#my follower count goes up but my activity goes down. circle of life i guess

[risingsunresistance]

on one hand i feel like this blog is way more dead than usual bc even my random posts are getting like 1-2 notes, which is fine but kinda unusual. on the other hand i know this blog is not dead bc my pictures of lechonk have 100 notes now jhdkfj

not as many skyblock enjoyers hanging around i guess

[jimlingss]

Maybe Baby Retreat

➜ Words: 12.7k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut

➜ Summary: In an attempt to conceive, Taehyung discovers a five day retreat dedicated to help with the impregnation process but you're fairly certain that the entire thing is a scam.

[Day One]   Taehyung should be fucking you.   It’s a bit crass to be grumbling that he’s not sticking his sperm in you, but your fertile window begins today and if he really wants a kid as much as he says he does, you wouldn’t be on a godforsaken bus.    The yellow school bus jumps and jolts as it goes down the jagged, unpaved road. Every bump is felt in the back by ten folds as you’re rocked from side to side on the seat and not on your husband’s dick. Said man is too busy singing along with the guide that’s living it up with a mic in hand and his voice on the intercom. He’s trying to bring up the morale, but you’re not having it.   Instead, you turn to the window and stare out at the empty countryside that stretches across the horizon. There’s not a car in sight and if you swear to god if you’re being shipped to a serial killer’s farmhouse, you’re dragging Taehyung down to hell with you.   “You’re frowning, sweetheart,” he says while leaning over to you, flashing a blazing grin much to your chagrin. “You know stress isn’t good for the baby.”   “It’s not like it matters. There is no baby.”   “Not yet.” Taehyung throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him as you scoff. You’re aware being a Debbie Downer isn’t going to help anyone but it’s hard to loosen up when you’re so on guard and skeptical about this whole thing. When you’re surrounded by noisy strangers who are all too overfamiliar.   You suppose it was your fault to begin with.   All those nights of staying up to read about tricks and tips of conceiving led Taehyung to discover the Baby Retreat. A five day sanctuary that ensures people will be able to conceive.    The moment you saw it, you were certain that the whole thing was a scam, but your sweet summer child husband was wholly convinced and no matter what you said, it wouldn’t change his mind.   “Who knows, it might actually work, right?! And if it doesn’t, then it looks fun anyway! When was the last time we had a vacation together?”   It’s also your fault for being so soft. You couldn’t shut Taehyung down when he was so enthusiastic, so here you are. You took off a week off work and on your fertile day, you’re shipped onto a school bus out into the middle of nowhere.   “Oh! Looks like we’re here, folks!” The vehicle slows as it turns into the gravel parking lot and the guide smiles as he peers out the windshield. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope you leave with a few buns in the oven! And if not, then don’t worry, you can still eat for two here!”   There’s a few snickers and once the bus parks, everyone gets up, slowly shuffling out and stretching their legs.   The air is sweltering hot and the sun beams down onto the back of your neck, making it uncomfortable to breathe. You’re panting with sweat built on your hairline as you drag your luggage through the grass. But no one seems bothered by it. Maybe because they’re excited that they’re here, they have the energy to fill the field with their chatter.    Even Taehyung is grinning and he’s a certified whiner when it comes to hot weather. The guy blasts the air conditioner during summer until it feels like it’s winter. Though you have an inkling it’s just a tactic so you can cuddle up to him for warmth before bed.   “Come on, slowpoke!” Taehyung breaks through your train of thought and then abandons you by running ahead like a hyperactive five year old.    “I’d be faster if you helped me!” Taehyung doesn’t hear you. You wonder if you married a child — but you suppose that’s why you called him the light of your life during your vows. Like Yoongi once said at the dinner reception, Taehyung’s excessive energy is indeed a double-edged sword.   You follow the stream of people to the center building, a modern wooden structure in the middle of the fifteen yurts that form a circle. It surprisingly looks alike to the advertisements, each with a porch and steps up to the door. The grass is verdant and pliant beneath your feet, the numerous trimmed trees around providing some nice shade and the flower beds give bright splashes of colour to the place. If this retreat wasn’t oddly centered around impregnation, you would’ve been convinced that it was a fancy camping resort.   “Welcome everyone! Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope the trip here wasn’t too bad!”   You finally join Taehyung’s side and look towards the stage in front of the main building. There’s a man with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks in a loose tunic and taupe pants. He stands next to a woman in a baggy poncho holding a ukulele for reasons beyond you.   “I see some familiar faces here! To all those already familiar with the Baby Retreat, welcome home. I’ll try to keep this short and simple, so you’re not too bored.” He claps his hands together with a bright smile. You look around at the crowd to see elated expressions. “My name is Park Jimin and this is my girlfriend, Song Hyunjin. A little about us, we’ve been together for over ten years and yes, we have an open relationship with each other, but that does not mean we aren’t in love with each other.”   He draws her in, nuzzling into her without shame and she giggles. “To our new faces, trust me, you’ll find out soon enough.”   Jimin pulls away with an enormous grin. “We haven’t had any children ourselves, but don’t worry. We’re reproductive endocrinologists with proper training and medical degrees. But we started this retreat four years ago to take a more unconventional approach to reproduction. And for the next five days, we have the honour of hopefully helping you ladies conceive and you males impregnate your partner!”   There’s some exchanged smiles and Taehyung looks at you with hopeful eyes. It feels better to hear these people aren’t uneducated and talking out of their ass, but you’re still unsure how to feel.   Hyunjin laughs. “Not only that, our goal is to help you relax and truly deepen your relationship with your partner. While we can’t promise a hundred percent success rate, hopefully you’ll leave this place feeling more refreshed than you did before. With that being said, please feel free to come up and ask us any questions. We’re very open people who are more than happy to help you in your process of expanding your wonderful families. There is nothing more beautiful than pregnancy and birth.”   She jumps off the stage and grabs a wooden crate. With a smile, she begins passing out packs.   Jimin continues, “For the next five days, we’ll be helping everyone improve their diets and exercise habits while getting plenty of vitamin D. What my lovely Hyunjin is handing out now are your survival kits!”    “For men, fenugreek supplements are given to improve your sperm counts and for the ladies, there are prenatal vitamins and folic acid. There’s also a guide to the activities provided around here and a map, some sunscreen and other knick-knacks to remember your time here. Don’t worry, we won’t bombard you with any pregnancy pamphlets or information. I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about that.”   It’s a bit refreshing to hear. You’ve been neck deep in research about conception that it’s been hard lately — another reason that you agreed to Taehyung’s whims.   “Are you the Kim family?” Hyunjin asks and when you confirm it, she hands both you and Taehyung cute pouches. You reluctantly take it, but when you thank her, she happily smiles. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat.”   The introduction drags on for a bit more before Hyunjin admits that it’s hot and that everyone’s probably tired, so the meeting ends and you open your pouch and find information on your yurt.   “Not too bad, right?”    Taehyung can tell by the look on your face as you gaze up at your white-tented yurt.   “We’ll see,” you mumble and he takes the luggage, following behind you. “I thought we were going to spend five days in an orange tent, so I guess this is better by default.”   “An orange tent?” He laughs. “But I showed you the commercial! Did you not pay attention?”   “People lie on advertisements all the time, Tae.”   But to your surprise, the interior of the yurt is even better than expected. It looks like a cozy cabin, wooden panel walls that separate the full kitchen from the full bathroom and provides some privacy to where the queen sized bed is. Light comes in from the top, filling the space with luminescence. There’s a mini-fridge filled with goods, plush towels set on the table with a personalized welcome card, down duvets that are soft to the touch.    And it’s wrecked the moment Taehyung jumps on the bed with his arms and legs wide open like a starfish. He rolls over and props his head up with his hand — in the position where he often asks you in a breathy voice to paint him like one of your french girls. And he uses the same voice on you now while wiggling his brows, “Wanna ruin the sheets with me?”   You burst out laughing, but it sounds all too tempting. He could probably dump a load in you within five minutes, though you’re not sure if anyone could hear you from the outside. “Didn’t they say there’s planned activities in an hour? What if we don’t show up.”   “It’s fine. People come here for one reason anyway.” There’s a pause. “To fuck.”   You roll your eyes, setting your suitcase next to the bed and you look at the nightstand to notice mineral oil lubricants. You’re mildly impressed at the details. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.”   “They won’t miss us.” Taehyung’s own attention is taken to a wooden basket on a shelf of the irregular shaped bookshelf and he comes over, only to grin when he sees what’s inside. “Honey. I think we should have some fun tonight.”   You turn around, wondering what he’s up to now. But any snarky remarks die on your tongue when you find a leather whip in his left hand and a ten inch, neon pink dildo in his other hand.   “Is that...even sanitary?!”    You can’t imagine how many people have used it.   “We can find out.” Taehyung fiddles around with it, pushes a button and the dildo begins to rotate, making the both of you laugh. “Honey, we gotta give them five stars on Yelp! They have a communal sex toy bin for us to use! We can’t get this anywhere else.”   “Oh god. I’d rather not share my sex toys with anyone.” The two of you are interrupted by muffled folk music that begins to leak inside and it persuades you to go out. “C’mon, we should go check out what they have. If we have to spend five days here, we might as well meet some other people too and be social or whatever.”   Taehyung grins, tossing the dildo back into the basket and joining your side. “You’re liking this place, aren’t you?”   “No. I just think the yurt’s half-decent.”   Taehyung can see right through you, but it’s a bit too early for the ‘told you so’ spiel so he holds back and the both of you step outside of the yurt. There’s a few people hanging around and the weather is more bearable as the sun slowly begins moving and setting over the horizon. You meet friendly newlyweds who are surprisingly having their honeymoon here.   “We just can’t wait to have kids,” Rose, the young twenty three year old, says as she embraces her husband, Hoseok. They’re no strangers to publish displays of affection, openly kissing up on each other. It would make you a bit uncomfortable if not for how touchy Taehyung is as well.   When you first got together all those years ago, your friends teased you about it but it’s been years since. No one’s a stranger to how you plop yourself down on Taehyung’s lap or how he might kiss you and then steal your food right off of your own plate.   “When we saw that the retreat offered a honeymoon package, we just couldn’t resist,” Hoseok says, but you’re not sure if he’s talking to you and Taehyung or his wife with how much he gazes at her. It’s a sweet sight though. You remember that honeymoon period.   “Remember when we were that young?” you ask as you leave to the other side, giving the couple some much needed privacy. It was obvious they weren’t up for more conversation with the way they’re shifting and staring at one another.   “When you were still hot? Yeah. I do—” Taehyung bursts out laughing when you jab him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! You’re still hot, okay? The hottest chick here and you’d make the hottest MILF too.”   “Damn straight.”   The pair of you also run into another couple that’s older and appears a lot more comfortable with the place. “Oh, this is actually our second time here! The first time gave us the four year old troublemaker running amok back at home.”   You blink in surprise, suddenly more interested in the conversation. “This place...worked for you?”   “It sure did.” The woman, Dahyun, smiles. “Some people didn’t have as much luck as we did, but we had so much fun last time that we knew we just had to come back. We were actually staying in your yurt last time.”   She points and you swivel your head over, intrigued. “Huh.” Taehyung raises a brow, noticing how engaged you are and the corner of his mouth tugs.   Her husband, Seokjin, chuckles heartily. “We thought it was time to give our son a younger brother, so here we are! Tonight’s the welcome party and just a word of advice, I really recommend getting some of that grilled salmon. It’s absolutely delicious.”   “Just let them eat whatever they want, Jin,” his wife sighs in exasperation.   “I’m just saying! I would’ve liked to know last time — I would’ve gotten two plates before they ran out.”   “This is why the doctor told you to eat less of everything. You ate more than I did when I was pregnant with Youngjae.”   “I can’t help that I’m eating for three! For your information, I’m carrying the entire family on these broad, broad shoulders of mine. Soon, I’ll have to start eating for four.”   Dahyun turns to you and Taehyung who are amused at their bickering. “I’m sorry. Please ignore him.”   It’s not a bad place, at least not so far. You weren’t sure what you were anticipating, but on the entire way here, you were worried that it was a scam your poor husband fell for. Luckily though, it seemed like the accommodation is good and the people around are friendly and welcoming, coming from different kinds of backgrounds and walks of life. It makes you feel better about not having internet connection or being murdered in the middle of the night.   The welcoming party turns out to be fairly nice too, and like Seokjin said, the food is delicious.   It’s a buffet style with tables set out, full of what Jimin declares is antioxidant-rich foods. He and Hyunjin go on a tangent about the benefits, how soy and estrogen foods have been limited, how there’s an emphasis on fruits, vegetables, carbohydrates, proteins and folic acid, and you’re sorely impressed at the attention to detail they provide.   “Oh my god. The salmon is amazing and have you tried these beans, Tae?!”   Taehyung laughs as he watches you eat, eyes lifted to look at you across the rounded table. “I thought you hated beans.”   “I do. But try it.” You lift your fork and he happily leans over, taking a bite. He swallows it down and smiles at how you stuff your cheeks.   After dinner, the pair of you gather with the rest to watch a few performances held on the main stage. Jimin introduces other staff members who sing, dance and Hyunjin even does a number with her ukulele, belting out some indie songs while standing bare feet.   It’s bizarre and a bit surreal to be sitting back in a lawn chair and watching some chick with flowers in her hair jump around and try to entertain you, but it’s not completely unwelcome. If anything, you were sort of having fun. The sun had set, making the weather milder. The breeze was warm against your cheeks and the fairy lights strung above were twinkling.   The whole atmosphere lulled you and with your head leaning on Taehyung’s shoulder, every blink became heavier and heavier. “This is nice,” you mutter and he catches it.   Your husband turns his head with a tiny smile. “Yeah?”   “Mhmh...”    You feel a wet kiss being planted at the top of your head and you decide to indulge, closing your eyes for just a moment. But the next time they open, you realize that the crowd has thinned, they’ve put on music on the stereo and Taehyung’s windbreaker is draped on top of you as a makeshift blanket.   “Hey there, sleepy head.” He grins at you when he notices your lashes fluttering. “Want me to carry you back to the yurt?”   “I’m fine.” It takes a second to get up and you stretch your arms out before the both of you make your way back to the yurt. There were a few younger couples lingering around and still taking in the scenery, but the years were catching up to you quickly and all you wanted was to dive into the sheets and satiate the rest of your sleepiness. “How long was I out for?”   “About half an hour?”   Taehyung fishes for the key and opens the door. “I didn’t even realize I was so tired.” You manage to kick off your shoes and beeline to the bathroom to brush your teeth.   “Of course, you were tired. You didn’t even sleep on the bus and for the past few days you’ve been up late doing research.”   You mumble incoherently, not having enough energy to argue with Taehyung and he grins, nudging you aside so he can grab his own toothbrush.    In the next ten minutes, it’s lights out. You’re rolled onto the bed, tucked into the warm sheets like a burrito, and Taehyung’s settled in as well. You hear his exhale and you allow your muscles to relax in the comfortable darkness. The exhaustion that’s been built from the entire day washes over you. But before you can drift off, in the quietness of the room, you remember.   And you reach out, arm stretched, feeling for your husband.   Taehyung hums when you tap his shoulder. You feel him shift and mumble, “What’s wrong?”   “I’m fertile,” you mutter with your eyes closed. “You need to stick your dick in me.”   He bursts out laughing and his arm slings over your abdomen. “It’s okay if we don’t have sex tonight, you know.”   You sigh, too fatigued to get up and do the job yourself. “We’re gonna miss our opportunity, Tae.”   A soft kiss is pressed to your temple, and you feel yourself losing the fight to keep your consciousness. “We’ll have other chances. Relax.”   “Relaxing….isn't gonna give us a baby.”   “No, but it will keep my current baby sane.”   After being together for so many years, Taehyung knows how to make his words sound sweet and enticing. And before you can even damn him for always catering to you and babying you, you’ve fallen asleep in his arms.

[Day Two]   Breakfast is as incredible as dinner was. There’s a full fruit platter that’s apparently all organic and a number of carbohydrates to fill yourself all the way to lunch. But you begin to regret eating so much with the scheduled activity that follows.   “Couples yoga is a way to build intimacy and trust with your partner.” Hyunjin and Jimin smile brilliantly and you wonder if they’re happy go lucky all the time. It must be fucking exhausting.   “Taehyung.” You nudge the man beside you who’s intently listening and he turns his head. “You know I’m not flexible at all.”   “Don’t worry.” He flashes a blazing grin. It’s way too early for this. “This is just for fun and I’ll catch you if anything.”   “No. Last time I tried doing yoga, I pulled a muscle in my thigh—”   “Oh look. They’re doing the first pose!” Your husband excitedly lugs you down and you’re forced to comply, crossing your legs and facing him.    It’s simple at first. There are basic poses with him leaning against you. Although it is hard to find a good balance considering how tall Taehyung is and even for being lanky, he’s quite a bit stronger than you are. But when Hyunjin and Jimin begin to twist themselves around and Jimin holds her up by the feet with a single hand, you know it’s impossible.   Unlike Taehyung, you never did cheerleading or any acrobatics.   “You’re going to drop me or I’m going to snap your spine, Tae!”   “Don’t you trust me?”   You look at your half-monkey, half-clown of a husband. “Do you really want to know the truth?”   The both of you collapse into a heaping mess before he can confirm or deny. He laughs and starts tickling you for not being able to listen until you’re begging him to stop before you look more like an idiot than you already do.   There’s a few couples who do a good job and you giggle when Taehyung mutters passive aggressive comments on how they’re teacher’s pets or that their form is awful. But there’s the fair share of other pairs who do as bad as you, namely Seokjin and Dahyun, the old couple from last night, bickering at being unable to do any poses.   You can’t say that couple’s yoga is particularly relaxing, but it’s silly and you find yourself having fun.   Hyunjin leads the cool down exercise and Taehyung nearly whacks you in the head with how he stretches. Your glare gains his exaggerated pout then cheesy smile. “Now as the very last cool down exercise, we’re going to take our partners by the hand.”   You mimic her and clasp Taehyung’s hands, awaiting further instructions.    “And we’re going to gaze into their eyes.” What? “Focus into the colour of their irises, how brown or blue or green they might be, or even the pattern of them. Sometimes we don’t truly look at one another like we should.”   “What are they even saying?” you mutter and the corner of Taehyung’s mouth twitches. In spite of how bizarre it is, you follow and stare into Taehyung’s rounded eyes. They’re brown. Like they’ve always been.   But you must admit, when the morning sunlight catches his irises at particular angles, the colour is a lighter shade than usual. They’re quite bright too.   “They say if we gaze into the eyes of someone we love, our heartbeat synchronizes together.”   What? Your brows furrow skeptically and you’re about to turn away, but suddenly Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin. “Don’t look away,” he commands with an authoritative voice and you swallow hard.   “Okay.” You focus your eyes to enlarge and focus. “I’m looking.”   You wonder if this is a staring contest, but even with his wolfish smile and being married for so long, Taehyung’s intent stare starts to make you feel vulnerable. You wonder if he’s always looked at you so affectionately. More importantly, you realize that even with all his dumb antics — like deciding to paint the fence green and then stopping halfway or ripping out the cabinets in the kitchen and never replacing them like he intended — you still love this sweet and kind dummy.   “Alright. Everyone can relax now,” Jimin announces softly as he claps and you finally blink a few times, eyes stinging from how you forced them open. “That’s the end of this session. Thank you for joining everyone.”   Yet, Taehyung holds your gaze a moment longer. And before you can pipe up and tell him it’s over, the man leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips. He smiles when he pulls away. “As much as sweat is a good look on you, I think it’s time to shower, Mrs. Kim.”   You scoff and he holds your hand with an enormous grin, dragging you back to the yurt.   The two of you hop into the shower together, a habit that Taehyung insists is to save water for the good of the environment, but you swear half the time, you end up wasting more than if either of you do it separately. You’re sure that right now is one of those times.   “Hey.” You turn around as he’s lathering up his shampoo.   “Hey, yourself.” He smiles and shifts towards the stream of water before screaming at how hot it is. Taehyung quickly adjusts it, dissipating the fog on the glass. “Why do you like bathing in molten lava, woman?”   “You always make it too cold.” You scoff, but don’t dwell on the argument as you lean into his backside. “Listen, should we get a quickie in?”   Taehyung frees himself of the soap and looks at you. “If we do, we’ll miss lunch and then the hike.”   “We’re going on a hike?!”   “Yep, so hurry up cause if we don’t get lunch, we’re not gonna make it!” He gets out of the shower, leaving you to be bludgeoned by the ice, cold water. You sigh in exasperation.   The purpose of coming here is to conceive, not go on a hike. But with how enthused he is, you begrudgingly join.   Afternoons are the worst out here. The sun is sweltering and there isn’t an ounce of a breeze or a wind. As a result, the heat stifles and lingers without dissipating, causing sweat to dampen your clothing and stick to the back of your neck. The weather exhausts you and you feel your creamy lunch pasta up your throat again as you lug your legs up the steep, rocky incline.    No matter how much you try to keep up, you fall behind from the group.   Taehyung twirls around with a big grin, mouth perfectly symmetrically. “Are you okay?”   “W-What does it look like?” you pant. It’s unfair that Taehyung works out once a year and treats his body like a candy trashcan but is still more fit than you are.    “I can carry you if you want.”   “You’re going to snap in half carrying me.” You pass him as he laughs.    You hear him catch up, feet skipping along like he’s playing hopscotch. Then suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted off the ground and you shriek, arms looping around Taehyung’s neck. You’re scooped up in his arms like he’s about to kick down the door into the bedroom, but instead, he starts sprinting up the path like a maniac.   “Taehyung!” you squeal and he laughs again.   “Isn’t this better?”   “Aren’t you tired?”   “If I say yes, you’re gonna think I’m trying to tell you to lose weight, but for the record, I like how soft you are.”   You roll your eyes, embarrassed as you pass a few couples, but none of them seem to find it bizarre and they even smile warmly at you and Taehyung. Yet, he starts to slow down tremendously after a few minutes, panting and sweating profusely. You ask him if he’s going to put you down yet, but you underestimate just how stubborn your dear husband is. Taehyung refuses until you’re up at the top of the trail, making it to where Jimin and Hyunjin are by the waterfall.    There, you’re finally on set on your feet again.   You pass him your water bottle. “Drink it before I’m the one dragging you down.”   He grins and downs it.   Up here, it’s much more refreshing and easier to breathe. There’s a tiny waterfall coming from the higher mountains and there are trees around to provide shade. When you squint, you can see the campsite at a distance with all the yurts.   “We should take some pictures!” Taehyung declares when he steadies his breath and pulls out his selfie stick from the hideous fanny pack that you still won’t admit is pretty convenient.   “Your mom is gonna want a copy so don’t pull any ugly faces, Tae.”   “My face is never ugly.” He tugs you beside him and snaps a few shots before reviewing them carefully. Taehyung always had an eye for these kinds of things. “We didn’t get a good angle of the water.”   “I can take it for you.”   “What’s the point if we’re not together?” His thick brows are furrowed, lips lopsided, sighing.   A matronly and friendly voice pipes up next to you, “Do you need any help?”   Dahyun is smiling with Seokjin beside her and Taehyung appears relieved. “Yes, please.”   She takes his phone as he folds back his selfie stick and she stands off to the side, capturing you and Taehyung smiling with his arm around you. “One. Two. Three. I’ll take another one.”   Dahyun changes the angle a bit and Taehyung leans over to pull on your cheek while you feign a glare at him. The second picture is taken while the woman and her husband laugh, endeared. “There we go. You can check them to see if they’re good.”   The phone is handed back and by Taehyung’s expression, it seems acceptable. “You two are too cute. When did you get married?”   “Oh, I think three years ago? Yeah. Three.”    It’s much longer than it actually feels. It seemed like it was a week ago when you first met in class and thought he was annoying. Like yesterday, he was supposed to propose at a fancy restaurant but failed when you found the ring box the night before — how he screamed at you to stop, but it was too late and he ended up going with it. They’ve all become memories that you cherish.   “We met back in school and dated a while before getting married.”   Dahyun smiles. “Have you decided how many kids you want yet?”   You hitch a thumb to Taehyung. “He wants four, but I’m fine with two.”   “The bigger the family, the better, right?” he says, looking up from the screen of his phone.   “Wait until you have kids, you’ll end up wanting more,” Seokjin chuckles, “That or you’ll want to give them all away, but personally, I could raise a whole football team if she’d let me.”   His wife jabs him in the ribs. “Yeah, because you’re not the one who has to give birth to them.”   “And that’s why you’re the boss of the house.” He pouts at her while the corners of his mouth tickle up into a smile, and she relents.   “Let’s be honest, the real boss of the house is our little troublemaker. I swear he took after all your bad traits.”   Seokjin gasps. “Excuse me, Youngjae is my most masterful creation...even if he painted all over our leather seats and popped our car tire with his batman toy.”   She shakes her head with a light sigh, but it’s hard to hide her beaming expression. “I should’ve known he would give me trouble when he went past the due date for two weeks.”   “T-two weeks?” you sputter.   Dahyun nods, finally having the sympathy she was trying to fish out of her husband. “My stomach was as big as a watermelon and I was in labour for fourteen hours before I ended up getting an emergency c-section and he came out a whopping ten pounds.”   Your head is swirling as you try to imagine a ten pound baby in this petite woman.   It almost seems like a horror story that’s waiting to be picked up by Hollywood.   “But honestly, the hardest part wasn’t the whole pregnancy or birthing process. It was afterwards.” Her exhale is long and fatigued. “Suddenly there’s another human being you’re responsible for and you have to take care of them while you’re still in recovery. I remember when Youngjae couldn’t stop crying in the middle of the night. I always had an idea that having kids was a lot of work, but you really don’t have time for yourself once they’re born, and not to mention my bladder was completely done for after the whole thing.”   “Alright, alright.” Her husband pulls her close. “I already know you’re a woman warrior. I saw it with my own eyes.”   Dahyun smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes and she turns to him, deadpanning, “No, you didn’t. You passed out half-way.”   “I was there in spirit,” Seokjin insists humorously.   Dahyun scoffs while Taehyung grins at their back and forth that’s reminiscent of his own dynamic with you. “But were they worth it?”   “Oh, a thousand percent,” Dahyun responds without needing a second to consider, expression softening. “Enough that I would want to do it all over again.”   She doesn’t get a chance to say much else when Jimin’s voice pierces through the chatter and everyone gathers together with the last stragglers who have finally made it up. “Thank you, everyone, for coming all the way up here. This is Serenity Falls that was actually…”   But his voice drowns out.   You linger on what Dahyun said, about child rearing and birthing, and there’s nothing that can be done to the uneasy emotion swelling inside of you.   The walk back down is silent. Done without a single complaint from you about the hot weather or how your feet ache. Taehyung notices, glancing at you several times. He doesn’t say anything until you’re back at the yurt.    “What’s wrong?”   You look at him from across the room. “Nothing, why?”   “You’ve just been quiet.”   “I just….” You inhale and decide to divulge him. “I was just thinking about what Dahyun and Seokjin were saying. Do you think we’re cut out for this, Taehyung?”   His head quirks to one side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”   “You and I can barely take care of ourselves.”   “That’s not true.”   “We forget to buy food all the time.”   “That makes midnight snack runs fun.” He grins.   You exhale an unsteady breath and Taehyung approaches you. He doesn’t mind how sweaty you are and wraps his arms around your waist. “We’ll figure it out. You said it yourself, right? One step at a time.”   “But what if it’s too much and you decide you don’t want to do it anymore? Or that...you don’t want to be with me?” He opens his mouth, but you keep going before he can jump in. It’s not just about you being self-conscious or needing reassurance. You’re simply trying to imagine the worst case scenario as realistically as you can. “Like when I’m still bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do.”   “I’ll still love you no matter the changes,” Taehyung murmurs earnestly, searching your expression. “Even if you’re bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do. I’ll use google to figure it out and get the baby to calm down and I’ll get you some chocolate and I’ll rub your feet.”   You scoff lightly. “You make it sound so easy.”   “Maybe because it won’t be as hard as you think. I’m great with kids and we got killer teamwork, you know, plus this baby’ll be the best project we’ve ever done together.”   “A project that’s gonna last us eighteen years.” You smile.   Taehyung laughs, the sound mellifluous in the room. “Which isn’t that long considering how fast time moves.”   You hum and encircle your arms around his neck. Taehyung gets the hint and leans in to seal your lips against his, slotting them together to kiss you the way he knows you like it.   It’s slow, comforting, an opportunity to revel in the softness of his lips. Taehyung gives you courage — he always has and when you break apart, smiling against each other, you feel worlds better than before. “I’m gonna start a bubble bath. You can join me if you want.”   It’s less of a suggestion and more of a demand, one Taehyung fully recognizes and makes him smile in amusement as you saunter away. Taking advantage of the tub in the bathroom, you lower the stopper of the drain and dump in the soap they offer. The water gets filled three quarters way with a layer of bubbles and you strip. You sigh as you get comfortable in the tub.   “Is it warm?”   Your husband leans against the doorway, arms crossed and the corner of his mouth curled.   “Uh-huh.” You loll your head on the edge of the tub and lift up your foot, watching the way the water cascades off your skin. “Are you not going to get in?”   “Maybe later,” Taehyung surprisingly replies. He rarely rejects any chance at jumping your bones when you’re being this forward about it. There’s no hike or lunch to catch that’s preventing him from having fun with you either. But as your husband walks out, you catch him unceremoniously stealing the clothes you have prepared and the stack of towels by the sink.   “What are you doing?”   “There’s no point in covering yourself up if I’m gonna strip you anyway.” He flashes a mischievous grin and you sigh, relenting in his antics. You simply lay back to enjoy the water, muscles relaxing and your brain that’s constantly in overdrive empties.   After ten minutes, your skin begins to wrinkle, so you drain the water and get out. But the moment you stand up, the cool air conditioning slams into you and your body starts to shiver.   “Taehyung!” you shout and hear silence. “At least give me a towel!”   Fortunately for you, there’s a smaller one on the rack he missed so you swipe at it and wrap your shoulders to protect yourself. But you’re still dripping wet and in need of your clothes, so you stomp out to find your ridiculous partner who’s apparently five years old and—   “HA!” Said man you’re searching for bursts out of the closet and you scream, startled half to death, nearly falling to the ground. Taehyung starts to laugh like a maniac.   “Are you serious?!” You gawk at him. “How long did you even wait there for?”   “Like five minutes ago.” The bastard wolfishly grins. “Worth it though.”   You cock a brow at him, sighing. “So that’s why you didn’t join me in the bath?”   “No. I didn’t join you, so I could do this.” He yanks the towel where your breasts meet, leaving you nude. Goosebumps rise all over your skin and your nipples harden in the frigid air.   You screech, arms trying to cover yourself. “Taehyung, it’s cold!” “I can warm you up,” he says but then runs away when he reads the glare on your face, giggling boyishly. It’s completely childish. If anyone was watching, you’d be mortified, but it’s been a long time since there was any shame in your marriage, so you stomp after him while nude.    You hunt the man down while he tries to evade by rounding the coffee table. It’s no longer about grabbing clothes or covering yourself up, it’s time for revenge.   Luckily, the yurt isn’t big enough to have a game of tag. You manage to reach him and you steal the opportunity to yank his pants down. Taehyung, mid-laugh, trips on his feet and stumbles on the carpet. You burst out giggles, looking at his ass in the air and he giggles too from the infectious sound bubbling up your throat.   “Oh, you’re gonna get it now,” He mutters in a low voice with half-lidded eyes and you scramble away with another shriek.   “You started it!” You jump onto the bed and Taehyung kicks off his pants. You don’t ask why he’s skipped out on wearing boxers, but you notice he’s already half-hard and that only makes you laugh louder.   He chases after you as you duck and steal his own tactic of rounding the coffee table. But unfortunately for you, Taehyung has always been destined to win with his longer legs. He catches you within two strides and snatches you as you scream. You’re thrown over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes and he smirks. “Caught you.”   “Taehyung! People are gonna hear!” You laugh in spite of being the one who’s making most of the noise and he tosses you onto the bed. Usually, you hate to be manhandled, but your husband’s the only exception to the rule.   “Let them hear.”   He hovers over you and the laughter dies down. Taehyung stares earnestly into your eyes and your breathing becomes shallow. But you don’t like to lose and as his wife of three years, you know his one, true weakness.    Your fingers lift to Taehyung’s armpits and he seizes when you start tickling him. You laugh when he does and once he doubles over, there’s an opening to the left, a perfect escape route. You steal the opportunity while you still have it and start to climb off the bed, but he regains his breath and grabs your ankle, tugging you back to him in one swift motion without even needing to try.    Taehyung grins. “God, you’re such a brat sometimes.”    “Yeah, and I know you like it.”   He grabs your wrists before you can make another tickle attack and pins it above your head. You can tell that there’s no more time for jokes or any more playing around, not when you can feel his hard cock against your stomach.   “You smell good,” he sighs into your neck, inhaling deeply. “Cherry blossom? Peony?”   “Strawberries,” you answer. “You smell like sweat.”   “You’re gonna end up like me anyway.” Taehyung smiles and leans in to kiss you. It isn’t shy or chaste. His tongue licks into your mouth and you exhale, a strangled moan muffled against his lips as you melt against him. He finally has you where he wants and you let him take control.   The pair of you swap spit for a few minutes until he releases your hands, allowing you to curl your fingers into his shoulders as he caresses your waist.    Taehyung eventually breaks away with a playful glint in his eyes. “You wanna try the toys?”   You both look at the basket half across the room and he rolls off of you. You get to your feet to inspect it for yourself and discover an array of colourful gadgets, some that you’ve tried before and others that you’re sure needs to have an instruction manual with it.    “I’m not putting any of these dildos in me, Tae. I don’t know where they’ve been.”   “I know.” He lays with his head propped up by his hand and you eye something at the bottom of the basket. You pull out a leather whip and look at him. “Ooh, a classic pick there, sweetheart.”   A whip seems more sanitary considering it doesn’t have to go in anyone’s orifices.   “Is it?” You approach with a tiny smile, staring down the innocent man. “Roll over.”   “What?”   “I’ll whip you.” You grin and he blinks at you. More often than not, you’re the more submissive one in bed, but the idea of having Taehyung crying out and the idea of you cackling at his pain has him immediately rolling face down in intrigue and you stepping up on the bed.   He turns his face to the side. “Do you know how to do it?”   “How hard can it be?” There’s a pause. “But tell me if it hurts.”   “The point is to make it hurt, Y/N.”   “Yeah, but I don’t want to hurt you-hurt you.”   “I can handle it.” Taehyung smirks and you scoff.    Even in this position, he’s trying to maintain his dominance.   You grip it tightly and don’t count. Simply, with a flick your wrist, you slam the whip across his backside. It makes a loud cracking sound and you hear Taehyung sharply inhale. His teeth grit and you freeze, watching his expression carefully.   “How was it?”   “Is my back split open?” he asks, trying to look over his shoulder.   “No.”   “I think I might have to go to the ER.” He sits up completely, overdramatic in the way he fumbles around and his tone filled with some mischief. “I think there’s internal bleeding. Or my spine is broken. I wouldn’t be surprised.”   “It’s fine, Tae.” you laugh. So much for telling you to go for it. But you already had an inkling Taehyung wasn’t one for receiving pain. After all, he’s still your whiny baby who only eats vanilla yogurt. “Not your thing?”   “Not my thing.” He takes the whip from your hand and tosses it across the room. “I have a better toy in mind.”   You’re about to remind him you’re not gonna put any of those communal toys inside of you, but he instead walks over to his suitcase and starts tearing some clear packaging open with something pink inside. You read the label — it’s a remote control vibrating egg.   Your brows furrow. “When did you get that?”   “Two days before we left. Amazon prime, babe.”   “So that’s what you were looking at when you told me you were doing some online shopping?”   “Precisely.” Taehyung grins and you’re not sure if you should be pleasantly surprised or in dismay since the two of you have already made a pact not to buy anything else online. The treadmill bought on an impulse is still taking up half the space of the living room.   Before you can think too much, Taehyung gets it open and comes over. He nudges your thighs to open and you lay back, leaning against the headboard. You’re not that wet yet, if at all, but it doesn’t stay that way when his long fingers rub against your clit in circles.    With his other hand, he strokes against your slit and then sinks his index finger in knuckle deep. You throw back your head, moaning his name at the intrusion while he remains silent, intently watching your pink cunt squeeze. Taehyung curls his finger and swallows hard. The sloppy sounds of your cunt fill the room and he hums in satisfaction.   “Okay. Ready?”   “Uh-huh.”   The head of the cold egg meets your folds and it slowly enters. While the toy might not be big or long, the girth stretches against your warm walls and you keen. Taehyung makes a low noise, encouraging you to take it. When it’s in, he smiles brilliantly. “Good job, sweetheart. You did it.”   “Now what?”   “This, of course.” Taehyung dangles the remote in front of you and then like a psycho, he ramps it up to the highest possible setting. Intense vibrations are felt through your body instantaneously and you cry, head knocked back against the headboard as your velvet walls squeeze and tremble.   “T-Taehyung!”   “Good?”   “I-It’s too much!” You’re completely at his mercy and he takes advantage of it, drinking you in with a wolfish smile. You’re unable to muster a glare at him, reduced to a complete mess while your center leaks and drips onto the sheet. Still, you try to reach over to the remote.   He dodges when you lunge at him. “Nu-uh.”   Luckily, you get a hold of your husband and climb over to him. His arm is extended straight up, laughing as you try to snatch it from him. He waves it inches away to mock you while enjoying the sight of you quivering on top of him. “T-Tae!”   “Okay, okay.” He laughs and transfers it into his other hand, about to turn the setting down a notch. But right at the moment you’re about to snag it for yourself, the remote flies out of his hand. It falls through the gap between the wall and the headboard.   It clatters to the ground.   “Oh shit.”   “Taehyung!”   “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He rolls off the mattress and looks underneath the bed before abruptly standing. “I’m going to need a long stick or something.”   He starts to look around the room, searching for a tool to grab the remote that’s out of reach, and you don’t know if you should suffocate him with a pillow or facepalm yourself hard enough to get knocked out into a coma.   You can pull out the egg yourself, but the violent vibrations were beginning to thrum pleasure through you, so as your useless husband goes fishing for the remote, you finish the job. Your fingers play with your clit, rubbing the bud as your slick drips down your thighs and you come hard on the toy.   The same moment light flashes beneath your eyelids and your toes curl, Taehyung grabs the remote with the help of a rolled brochure and shuts it off. The both of you are winded for different reasons.   “You know, I'd say that was pretty hot if not for how stressful that actually was.”   “You’re an idiot.” You tug the toy out of you and bat him over lazily, feeling spent on how hard you came. “Now dump some sperm in me, idiot.”   Taehyung has a cheesy grin and climbs over you. Despite the struggles of grabbing the toy’s remote, he’s fully hard from the noises you were making. “I’d tell you to ask more nicely, but I’ll let it go.”   He aligns the head of his weeping cock to your swollen cunt and leans his weight into you. He starts to push in and you whine, gripping his forearms. As wet as you are, Taehyung is still well-endowed — less girthy than the toy, but there’s a considerable length to him.    When he bottoms out, you can feel him all the way to your throat.   He tucks sweaty strands of hair behind your ear and kisses you. “Sorry about earlier.”   “’t’s okay. It was fun,” you admit and he smiles, starting to work up a good rhythm. You feel hot in your face with the pressure of his body on top of yours, hardened nipples brushing against his chest. Your cunt pulses and squeezes around his length. It draws Taehyung’s groans into your neck.   “F-Fuck. You’re so tight.”   It feels good and you know he’s reveling in the pleasure too. His eyes are shut tight, the scrunch made between his brows and it entices you to reach up and kiss him to which he sweetly indulges you. Your tongues twine as you pant against each other and Taehyung starts to lose his pacing.   He bends your knee, hitting you at a deeper angle as his strokes become increasingly frantic and quick. You egg him on and he groans once more before he thrusts himself as deep as he can go and cums. Ropes of white paint your walls, the head of his cock against your cervix and filling your cunt and womb up. You can feel some of it dribbling out, seeping past your folds and when Taehyung’s about to withdraw, you quickly grab his forearm.   “Wait. Just stay put for a second. I have to keep it in.”   He nods and kisses your lips. “Okay.”   Taehyung nestles into you, nuzzling into your neck and you hope this is the one.

[Day Three]   There were lots of activities and amenities offered and advertised by Jimin during the introduction of the retreat, but you realize you might’ve missed over the most important one of all.   “How does that feel?” the massage therapist asks as she works a knot out of your shoulders and smooths your skin with the oil.   “Amazing,” you murmur from the corner of your mouth, melted against the table.    Couples massages were something you always scoffed at, but holy shit, it’s absolutely paradise. With the breeze blowing through the pitched tent and the glowing humidifier releasing a fresh scent, you’ve never been more relaxed as all the stiffness is worked out of you.   You open your eyes to see Taehyung enjoying it as well — though not as much as you are since he’s quite ticklish. Sometimes, he squirms a bit too much and his massage therapist is at a loss of what to do.   But when it’s all done, you feel like you’re in a new body. “Oh my god. I think I’m more flexible than before. Look, Tae!”   You stretch your leg and he giggles at how happy your mood is. “If I knew you liked it this much, I would’ve signed us up for one at the spy near the gym.”   Your eyes are wide, catching the sunlight. “Do you think they’re as good as this place?”   Taehyung grins. “Probably.”   “We should go when we get back then. Oh, do you wanna check out the library?”   “Sure.”   You grab his hand, lacing your fingers together and he smiles to himself.    It’s a free day without many planned activities, giving you both an opportunity to look around the retreat for yourselves and take it easy. And the pair of you take full advantage of the opportunity. Since morning, you were lazing around the yurt and after breakfast and the massages, you decide to lay in one of the hammocks by the trees while Taehyung naps with you.    Said man hasn't seen you this stress free in a while, so he happily indulges you in all your wishes. Even when night falls and you step away from the stage where Hyunjin is performing again to stargaze. It’s an odd activity for you since mosquitoes love to especially swarm around you when given the chance and on numerous occasions, you’ve been a moth landing spot.   But tonight, the breeze is soft and gentle, and you don't feel any tickles on your skin that isn’t Taehyung’s hand grazing against yours. The grass is pliant beneath your feet and the fairy lights twinkle far away enough that its luminescence doesn’t obstruct. You knock your heads back to view the horizon, allowing the darkness to engulf you and the stars to emerge.   “Remember Bali?”   “When you lost your passport?”   “When we went stargazing with the tour group,” Taehyung corrects. “It still wasn’t as beautiful as this.”   “You think everything in front of you is the most beautiful thing you’ve seen. You said that about the Eiffel and then Tokyo Tower.”   He laughs. “Hey, my mind doesn’t change that often. You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.”   You scoff, looking away from the sky towards him with a pout. He always knows how to lay on the sappiness without needing to blink. Your dear husband has always been shameless in that aspect and you adore him for it. “So I’m a thing to you now?”   “You know that’s not what I mean.” He wraps his arms around your waist. The both of you stare up at the sky. “Is that the big dipper?”   You look at where he’s pointing to the large clusters of stars. “I can’t see it. Maybe that’s scorpio.”   “Nah, I don’t think so.” Taehyung tries guessing, “It might be taurus or gemini. Or libra.”   “Aren’t you just naming astrological signs now?”   “Maybe.” He grins. “I’m a capricorn.”   “Yes, I know.” You two of you clearly don’t know anything about constellations or how to find them, but it doesn’t make the moment any less enjoyable. Yet when your necks start to ache, he takes your hand and strolls down the path through the trees. “Taehyung. What if we get lost?”   None of you have your phones or any flashlights. There’s only the crescent moon giving off its light. “Don’t worry. I have a great sense of direction.”   “You and I both know that’s not true.”   “You have a great sense of direction, so we won’t get lost,” he says and you sigh without putting much of an argument up. Not when you knew he was headed to the lake you had peeked at earlier in the afternoon, and now it was shimmering with the moonlight, reflecting the starry horizon in its water.   There’s a certain kind of peacefulness, a serenity that you would never get back in the city or even the suburbs. Certainly not without light pollution or the occasional car whizzing past. Here, there is none of those noises, none of those distractions, just you and Taehyung savouring the view⁠—   “Hey.” But of course, your mischievous husband has to have ulterior motives for coming all the way here. And you know there are ulterior motives by that glint in his eye and the sly smile he has.   “What?”    “Wanna take a dip?”   Your brows shoot to your hairline. “Are you crazy? It’s probably freezing! What if we get hypothermia and die?”   “For the record, you’d make one beautiful angel. But I’ll warm you up before it gets to that point.” Taehyung grins and starts stripping, tugging his shirt right off his head. It’s always been like this — him proposing something out of your norm, you try to voice your concerns, and then you’re the one who’s diving head first into it without hesitation and end up having more fun than he does.   “God, it’s so cold!”    The moment the water touches your toes, you recoil. But you brace yourself and continue onward with your entire body shivering. It’s your first time skinny dipping ⁠— something normally reserved for rebellious teenagers and most certainly not for late twenty-some year olds. Yet neither of you have qualms, even if you’re shrieking and Taehyung is laughing and following behind you.   “It’s freezing, Taehyung!”   “Come here.” He pulls you to him so your backside is pressed to his front and you wonder how Taehyung can be so warm all the time. The pair of you get waist deep into it and you turn around to grip him. Your husband smiles and holds onto you, eventually going far enough that the water reaches your shoulders. “See? Isn’t this nice?”   You hum, gazing up at the stars and the moon, the sight reflected on the water and how you’re pressed to Taehyung. “Seems like the beginning of a horror movie.” He laughs and your feet try to reach down to find stability, but you realize you can’t touch the ground anymore and your grip on him tightens. “Walk back a bit, Tae.”   “Why?”   “You know I can’t swim.”   His mouth curls. “But I like how you’re holding onto me. I won’t let go,” he adds after a long pause, “if you beg me not to.”   Your arms immediately come to loop around his neck and your legs wrap around his waist, latching onto him in a vice grip like a koala does to a branch. “Taehyung! I’m not kidding.”   “Oh...oh!” The bastard pretends that he’s gonna let go of you and actually does for a split-second. He laughs at your panicked expression. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”   You feign a pointed glare that turns out to be more of a pout. “You’re lucky I like you.”   “You only like me?”   “Yeah and if you keep going, I’m going to demote you from husband to friend.”   Taehyung makes a pained, sharp sound. “Can’t let that happen then.” He suddenly hoists you up higher, grip secure on your thighs and smiles brilliantly while you scoff.   You savour the view and the warmth of his body heat, but you’re slightly distracted. “Do you think anyone’s gonna steal our clothes, Tae?” You squint at the small pile near the shore.   “Who would?”   “I don’t know. What if a bear comes from the bushes and takes them? We’ll have to walk back naked.”   “I’m pretty sure there aren’t bears here, Y/N. Stop overthinking it.” Taehyung suddenly grabs a hold of your chin and turns your head for you to look only at him. Then, he kisses you in a soft and gentle way before the tip of his tongue meets the seam of your lips. You happily oblige, parting them and allowing him access to your tongue and giving him a taste of you.   The man hums in satisfaction as soft smacking noises fill the surroundings. You lean into his firm frame while Taehyung’s large hands slinks from your thigh to the curve of your ass. You feel his thumb probe against your folds.   “T-Taehyung.” His hard length is beneath you and you grind down on him, feeling empty. It draws a groan from his throat.   After a moment, you get his cock inside of you. The stretch soothes the itch you had, filling your cunt deliciously. But unlike the movies, it’s not enough for you. The water washes away the lubricant, each stroke rough and the glide slower than you’d like. So you beg him and the both of you are dragged up onto the shore again.   You turn on all fours. The pebbles uncomfortably dig into your knees, but it’s a distraction that blurs into the background when Taehyung pounds into you. You feel all of him, his body heat against yours, each thrusting movement flicking off the droplets of water from your skin. And when Taehyung turns your head to kiss you while rubbing at your clit, you cum around his cock.   He finishes as you beg for it and Taehyung’s sticky fluids leak down your thighs on the trek back.

[Day Four]   Taehyung blinks blearily, slowly coming to consciousness. He scratches his bed head and groans at how his muscles ache. But when he turns his head, the other side of the bed is cold and empty. His eyes widen in confusion and he feels more awake than before.   He checks the time and realizes he slept in, a total of ten hours, which isn’t a surprise considering how last night’s rendezvous continued and was more intense than usual. What is unusually, however, is that you’re gone.   But he soon finds you outside. Bathing in the sun. Laying in a hammock. Napping with a book next to you.   Your eyes flutter open as his shadow covers your figure. The corner of his mouth pulls.   “Morning.”   You sheepishly grin. “Morning.”    “What time did you get up?”   “Like an hour ago. The breeze was nice so I thought I’d do some reading, but I guess I accidentally fell asleep.”   “Looks like you’ve gotten comfortable.” Taehyung’s enormous smile aches his cheeks. You’ve fallen in love with this place more than he has, but he doesn’t mind whatsoever. He loves watching you have fun.   The two of you have breakfast, inhaling in the food, and then head to a meditation class on the grass led by Hyunjin. Typically, Taehyung has to convince you to take part in such a session and you’d usually wave it off as a waste of time. But there are no qualms or an ounce of hesitation in your expression when you head over.   “Now breathe in, and out, a steady stream of breath. Think about all that you are grateful for. Everything that has made your life amazing, and let that positive energy surround you as the negative energy releases.”   But while you’re eager, Taehyung, on the other hand, finds out that meditation is not cut out for him. He’s bored out of his mind from the lack of stimulation. Time feels like it’s dragging on slower, each second a minute and a minute is an hour. Somehow, meditating makes him feel even more exhausted than before and his mind ends up wandering.   Taehyung thinks about how he’s really craving some fatty burgers instead of the organic oatmeal and yogurt he had — how hot the weather is — how it’s hard to breathe — how sweat sticks to his skin.   “Hold your breath for three seconds and release for three seconds.”   He sighs and peels back an eye to see you with your hands pressed together, concentrated in following instructions. The corner of his mouth tickles into a smile.   As bored as he is, it’s worth seeing you happy.   //   The more excited you are about something, the more you run around from place to place and Taehyung’s resorted to looking for you. Luckily, the resort is small, so he finds you in front of the main building, chatting to a certain brunette with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks.   “—heard that doggy actually works for some people, but for me, it doesn’t feel right...like…”   “The head of the cock isn’t right up against the cervix?” Jimin hums thoughtfully. “Have you tried angling your leg better? Sometimes you need to bend a bit and he needs to be leaning towards the side rather than just hovering straight on top.”   What.   Taehyung’s brows lift and he quickly approaches. Your face lights up when you see him. “Oh, hey.”   “I was looking for you.” Taehyung throws his arm over your shoulder and subtly tugs you into his chest. He looks at the other man, eyes narrowed in on him which he doesn’t seem to notice.   “Sorry, I was just caught up with Jimin.”   “What were you talking about?”   “What position is best for conception.” You blink innocently like it’s not a big deal you’re exploiting the details about your sex lives to another guy, and while he’s not embarrassed whatsoever, it was a bit too much information being shared for Taehyung’s liking. “Turns out elevating the hips might not help as much as we thought it does.”   “Huh.” Taehyung deadpans, “That’s interesting.”   “I know, right?” Your expression is bright, oblivious to his turmoil. At the same time, Hyunjin exits from the building in yet another flower crown and flowy skirt. She smiles at the both of you and joins Jimin’s side, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek and holding his hand.   “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important.”   You smile at her. “No, it’s okay.”   The woman nods and looks to her partner while her voice drops into a more private tone. “Just wanted to let you know that Taehoon and I are done.”   As if to validate her words, a timid yet tall man exits the building and they wave goodbye to one another before he walks off towards the parking lot. Jimin smiles. “Did you have fun?”   “Yeah. It was nice.”   Both you and Taehyung exchange expressions. He wonders if you’re thinking what he is or if he’s understanding the insinuations correctly.    As if they catch the inquisitive looks on your faces, they smile in a relaxed way. There’s no need to explain anything to either of you when you’re strangers, but they’re open enough and Hyunjin says, “Taehoon’s my second partner.”   “Second...partner?”    “Hyunjin and I are in an open relationship,” Jimin clarifies in a friendly manner. “It’s not really traditional, but it works well for us.”   “Oh.” Taehyung and you wordlessly bob your heads. He’s pretty sure they mentioned it during their introduction but it slipped his mind. They must get asked a lot of questions too since Hyunjin answers what he’s thinking, telling the both of you there’s not a lot of jealousy involved since they trust each other wholeheartedly and communicate a lot. And rather than finding it bizarre, you’re left intrigued. Taehyung notices as you walk away.   “Do you want an open relationship too?”   “You know it would never work for us.” You lean over, hugging his arm. “I’m too possessive for that.”   He laughs. “Then what about talking to Jimin about our sex positions?”   “He’s a professional.” You shrug. “I thought I could get helpful advice. Why?”   “Nothing, it’s just kind of weird.”    Jimin doesn’t look like a professional. He looks like just some dude in khaki shorts and a white shirt, obnoxiously bulging biceps, probably has rock hard abs, and he’s in an open relationship and clearly doesn’t mind chatting up you, aka Taehyung’s wife.   “Are you jealous?”   “What? No.” Taehyung scoffs, suddenly defensive and you give him that look like you know him better than that. “I just don’t think we don’t need to ask for help yet, and at least not about our positions. We’re gonna have a baby one way or another, Y/N. We just have to be patient.”   “Tell that to my dying eggs.” You walk off and Taehyung grins.   “My sperm’s strong enough that it’ll rescue your dying eggs.”   //   Evening eventually comes and you try to revel in the surrounding sights, the atmosphere of the entire place and the very cozy yurt you’ve grown to adore. It’s sad knowing that tomorrow you’ll have to depart from the resort. You regret not coming here with a more open mind. That way, you could’ve enjoyed and embraced this place much sooner.   “Actually, I’m kind of glad. I’m getting sick of them serving the same food.”   You’re shocked at your husband’s apathy. “But it’s antioxidant-rich—”   “I just want some fried chicken or a burger.”   You scoff. “That’s why the doctor told you to lower your blood sugar and you’re not even over forty yet.” But still, you’re taken aback that he’s not in love with the resort. “Out of everyone, I thought this would’ve been your haven. I was expecting you to beg me to build a cabin here or something to stay.”   Taehyung hums, leaning back into the chair. “I’m not saying the resort is bad. As long as I get to spend time with you, I like it. And I like that you like it.”   “Psh.” He always knows how to say the right thing, especially when he’s doing it absentmindedly and not trying to get something out of you. You lean over, hand lifting to squeeze his cheeks together and you turn his head to kiss him. Taehyung smiles at the soft and affectionate gesture. But you look at him with half-lidded eyes that mean more. “Wanna ditch?”   It’s the final celebration that Jimin and Hyunjin are happily hosting, but you don’t mind leaving for some more quality time with Taehyung, and he happily agrees.   The both of you sneak out of the crowd, stumbling back into the yurt, giggly and giddy like you’re still teenagers trying to be stealthy at midnight. Taehyung kisses you silly and soon, your back is hitting the mattress. He almost rips your dress with how hastily he tries to tear it off your head and you’re stuck for a moment until you manage to get it off.   But in spite of how childish your antics are or how Taehyung blows raspberries on your tummy, each one of his touches is intimate and loving. He holds your hips down and eats you out until you cum twice. Then you’re flipped onto your stomach with him on top of you — his cock is dug into your pussy, every draw and thrust delicious. Your walls pulse along his length and you moan his name and clutch the sheets with tight fists.   You relish in the pressure of his body pressed on top of yours as he pounds into you. It only takes a few minutes before he’s releasing into your womb, cumming hard enough that you feel it too.   He rolls off of you, spent, but you gather your energy and hold him down for a second round.   You’re a woman on a mission and you’re going to make sure you leave this resort with Kim Taehyung’s baby inside of you.

[Day Five]   The final day of the resort has arrived much to your dismay, and you feel sad enough to cry.   “Thank you so much for all you’ve done.”   “It’s our pleasure.” Hyunjin grins, her arms wrapped around Jimin’s. “We just hope you had a great time at our resort.”   “Yes, I really loved it.”   “Our doors are always open,” Jimin affirms. “If nothing’s stuck, you can always come back or if you’re ever looking for more siblings for the little one, you can come again too. We’re happy to welcome anyone that’s family back.”   You’re moved by their words and much to Taehyung’s dismay, you give a brief embrace to each of them. You also manage to see the newlywed couple, Hoseok and Rose, who are still smiling and somehow look even more in-love than when they arrived. Dahyun and Seokjin, as well, wish you luck on your adventures.    “We might be coming back real soon.” The woman sighs, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. “That husband of mine is planning to book another trip next month.”   “So soon?”   Dahyun nods with a long exhale. “I think he’s hoping I’m not pregnant so we can come here again.” Your laugh spurs on her own and you’re able to resonate with the hopelessness of husbands.   Everyone is boarding the same bus, but this is the last opportunity to gather when people are getting dropped off from different places. So you make sure to savour the moment, get your last goodbyes in, and Taehyung pulls out his phone to snap several pictures of you for keepsakes.   Then, the two of you board the bus with your luggage and settle in your seats.   “You know,” you pipe up and Taehyung turns to you. “Even if we didn’t conceive, it was still fun.”   He smiles while taking his hand. “Yeah? I’m glad.” Taehyung laces his fingers with yours and you lean your head on his shoulder as he, too, leans his head on top of yours.   The bus pulls out of the lot and onto the road. Jimin and Hyunjin wave with brilliant grins, and together, you and Taehyung watch the little resort become a particle in the distance.

[Epilogue]   This is terrible. Unexpected and spontaneous.   “I have bad news.” You’re leaning against the door frame of Taehyung’s office and at your tone of voice, your husband looks away from the computer screen with wide eyes.   “Are you divorcing me?”   “No.”   “Did you lose your job?”   “No.”   His entire body deflates in a sigh of relief and he leans back, hands grasping the armrests of his swivel chair. “Thank god because I just bought those new shake weights that were shown on TV.”   “Yea— wait. What?”   Taehyung’s bubbling laughter comes from his chest. “What is it?”   He doesn’t notice the stick in your hand, so you throw it at him. Luckily, Taehyung’s reflexes are still in good shape and he claps his hands together, catching the stick before it hits his head. But then his brows furrow in confusion.   “You’re probably going to need to wash your hands after that. I peed on it.”   He doesn’t answer. Your oblivious husband instead takes a long second to inspect the stick and his pupils dilate. He finally realizes what it is and looks carefully. In the meanwhile, you hitch your breath, feeling unsettled. But then the most enormous smile stretches into his cheeks.    It almost looks like his smile is about to break his face.   “You’re pregnant,” Taehyung murmurs.   “I sure am.”   He looks at you. And then the stick. Then he looks at you again. Taehyung searches your expression in alarm as your words echo back to him. “Why is this bad news? D-did you change your mind? Do you not want kids?”   You shake your head. “No. This is fantastic news. I just wanted an excuse to go to the retreat again.”   He laughs and exhales a long breath. Taehyung scoots his chair over using the heels of his feet and comes to you. He throws his arms around your torso in a secure embrace while his ear is pressed gently to the flat plane of your stomach that’ll soon swell in the coming months. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, woman.”   Taehyung’s brown eyes are lit with mirth and you ease into his hug as your fingers comb through his dark locks. Finally, you’re going to be parents. After waiting and hoping for so long, it was now on the horizon. There’s a sense of fear in you both, but you’re overwhelmed with euphoria and excitement.   “We can always go back for the next kid.”   “I haven’t even had this one yet and you’re already thinking of another.”   “I can’t help it.” Taehyung grins, looking up at you and you lean down to kiss his smile.   You have a feeling this baby’s going to be loved beyond belief.

[sitp-recs]

i saw your recent draco!pinning and oblivious!harry rec and wondered if you knew any either-pinning/other-oblivious rec with a lot of angst. buckets upon buckets of angst. thank you so much!!!!

Hello there! Oof this was hands down one of the hardest lists I’ve ever made. Angst can be so so subjective and I second guessed my picks for a long time, until I said “fuck it” and decided to include all stories that speak the most to me. I’ve read lots of angst over the years but these are the ones that come to mind when someone says “buckets of angst”.

I’m naming this list “angst with a (in 98% of the cases) happy ending” 😂 all of these hurt damn good and have lots of pining. I tried to include different flavors of angst too, so that everyone can find something for their tastes. And I left a few suggestions at the end - of fics that didn’t quite work for me but might be someone else’s jam. Hopefully I did a decent job. Enjoy!

Closure is a state of mind by @quicksilvermaid (2020, E, 12k) - bittersweet ending

After Harry's husband Charlie is killed, his Mind Healer recommends a Polyjuice therapy company, so Harry can see 'Charlie' again and find closure over his death.

Kissed by @potteresque-ire (2015, M, 12k)

Draco Malfoy was attacked by a rogue Dementor on the night of his Azkaban release. He self-exiled to Muggle London and opened a late-night chocolate shop called Kissed.

Voices From The Fog by @noeeon (2010, E, 13k)

After years of running away, Harry crosses paths with an all-too familiar face and follows him to Amsterdam.

And I Know the Spark by @firethesound (2014, E, 15k)

All Draco cares about is keeping Potter alive, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.

I'll never be your chosen one by @andithiel (2019, E, 15k)

Draco doesn't know what exactly he’s doing with Potter, he doesn't know how their unspoken agreement even started, and doesn't know where it will end. The only thing he knows is: he's not in love.

you've got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass (2018, M, 20k)

When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

In His Nature by create_serenity (2015, M, 20k)

Harry agreed to have sex with Draco once a month in order to keep him alive, what he didn’t agree to was Draco popping up all over the place and disrupting his life in more ways than one.

Tuxedo Angel by tryslora (2013, E, 25k)

Harry and Neville are looking for the infamous Dragon Lily, a Dark witch active throughout Europe and Asia. Instead, they find the Tuxedo Angel, a beautiful witch performing in Rome.

Exposure by GallaPlacidia (2020, M, 27k)

When Seamus uncovers Draco Malfoy's camboy profile, he, Harry and Ron decide to anonymously book a private show so as to humiliate him later.

Stain of Silence by brummell (2013, E, 28k)

After the war, Draco serves out his sentence in Harry Potter's house.

(The Piece) I was Missing All Along by lauren3210 (2014, E, 30k)

Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way.

Make Me a Headline (I Want to Be That Bold) by @dictacontrion (2015, E, 31k)

Draco never expected to see Harry doing that again. Especially with someone else, in a grainy photograph that's landed on his desk one Monday morning.

The Bucket List by GallaPlacidia (2020, NR, 32k)

Draco will die in six months if he can't get Harry Potter to fall in love with him. Since that's not going to happen, he might as well spend his last days working through his Bucket List.

On One's Knees by pir8fancier (2008, E, 33k)

The war is over and to the victors go the spoils.

All Roads by @korlaena, Saulaie (2019, M, 36k)

Draco hates his job at the Prophet. He hates it even more when he’s assigned to write an article on Harry Potter, who left the country three years ago after their falling out.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by @letteredlettered (2013, E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life.

As Souls From Bodies Steal by @femmequixotic (2012, E, 41k)

Hope may be found in the oddest of places, even in the bleakness of winter.

In The Red by @bixgirl1 (2018, E, 45k)

When Harry goes looking for a vampire at a Creature club, the second-to-last thing Harry expects is to find Malfoy working there.

Blood and Fire by @lqtraintracks (2017, E, 45k)

Harry has spent the last twelve years in Romania, not returning to England as often as he knows he should. It's complicated.

Of Fates Entwined: A Story of Love Lost and Found by taradiane (2014, E, 51k)

Harry Potter vanished without a trace from his home on a warm summer morning in June 2004.

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered (2012, E, 54k)

Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him.

You open always (petal by petal) by birdsofshore (2017, E, 65k)

Harry’s not the kind of person who pays for sex. He really isn’t. Until he is.

We Are Young (I'll Carry You Home Tonight) by @femmequixotic (2012, E, 68k)

Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement--and financial gain--of their circle of friends.

Super Rich Kids by trishjames (2020, E, 81k)

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite.

Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by lordhellebore (2013, E, 82k) - tw: major permanent disability, this one is sad af

When Harry is forced to form a Blood Bond with Draco Malfoy under threat of death, he thinks his future will consist of a cold home and sexual frustration.

Balance, Imperfect by bixgirl1 (2017, E, 91k)

When Harry sustains an injury in the line of work, he no longer knows how to navigate the life he loved, and finds help and solace from the most unexpected source.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (2019, E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (2020, E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

Grounds for Divorce by @tepre (2019, E, 122k)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

Bonus 1: short fics!

Hourglass Heart @bixgirl1 (2019, E, 5k)

It only happened once — depending on how Harry counted.

Packing the Flat by marguerite_26 (2012, E, 6k)

Months after their explosive break-up, Draco insists Harry return to their flat to remove his belongings.

hear me (with your whole body) by @teacup-tai (2020, E, 9k) - bittersweet ending

He would give it a go. See what it was like. He could always say no, right?

Bonus 2: other fics that suit your requirements. Mind the tags!

Unhook the Stars by jad (2012, E, 70k)

Seventy-thousand words of pornographic discourse between two boys-turned-men that still haven't learned how to communicate like normal people – with words.

A Big Black Sky by AlexMeg (2019, M, 90k)

Draco leans his head closer, biting the quiver out of his lips before he breathes a laden and shuddering exhale, and he whispers, "You are my star in a big black sky."

Another Mask Behind You by lettered (2014, E, 116k)

Draco is a high-end prostitute who hides his identity. Harry unknowingly hires him.

[an-annyeoing-writer]

vulnerability. – chap. 2.

Story info:

Pair: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Rating: +18 for mentions of s*x and violence (future chapters)

Genre: angst, smut

Chapter info:

Release date: 4th June 2021

Word count: 2 751

Warnings: mentions of criminal activity

Vulnerability Masterlist || Fanfiction Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Taglist:

@shesdreaminginoverdose @mybiasdashboard @marimsun @byuns-asscheeks @multi--kpop--fanfics @vunv @making-me-blush @skittlez-area512 @bloopbloopkai @byuns-asscheeks @baekyeonoreo @kimcarinaa

Please, always comment on the newest chapter if you wish to be added to/removed from the taglist. I will be also checking the tags, so if you're shy – feel free to leave a note this way.

Previous (Chap. 1.)

Chap. 2.

“What’s my name?”

“Baekhyun.”

“Wrong.”

A stroke of the riding crop over her chest makes the woman whimper. She’s older than him, but it doesn’t matter. Right now, everything about her – her age, name, wants and aversions – they’re all reduced to the leather collar around her neck.

“How are you to address me?”

“Master” she doesn’t hesitate.

The man does, though – he stares her down just for a few seconds, as if to judge her, before he speaks again.

“Good.”

Her gaze follows him as he walks slowly around her, observing her body’s reaction. She’s not to move, not to ask questions. She’s to accept it.

“I’m going to beat you with the crop now. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Bend over.”

* * *

The day was long, but Baekhyun found himself relieving stress in one of his favorite ways.

This time, he sat in The Queen of Spades alone, sipping whiskey and silently watching people around him, eventually ending up staring into the alcohol’s surface instead, until it disappeared entirely and there were only a few pieces of ice at the bottom left to look at. Once they melted, he’d drink them up as well – and it would probably happen, as he wasn’t about to leave anytime soon. There was not much to do.

His eyes landed on the small cut on the inside of his palm, placed next to the glass; the cut was still fresh, but not deep enough to require medical assistance, or even bandaging for that matter. Accidents happened – in some jobs more than in others. The best he could do was to make sure that accidents like this would not follow him back home.

He heard his phone vibrate, but it took him a few seconds to pick it up.

“Hello.”

“Hi there, Hyunie.”

The familiar voice made him sigh deeply with annoyance.

“You don’t sound happy to hear me,” the feminine voice on the other side spoke in slight offense.

“Sorry, it’s not your fault, Luna, I thought I’d be off for the night,” he admitted honestly; the woman’s presence was not something he minded much, but she wasn’t one who ever brought good news, so his mood instantly dropped the moment he heard her voice.

“Well, tonight you can rest, I have something for tomorrow, though.”

Baekhyun exhaled, already rubbing his temples.

“Spill it, I guess.”

“It’s an office. They have a very good security and our hacker couldn’t get in, so we need someone to go there and get some physical copies out, take a few pics and then leave them where they were. No footprints. We need the copies by Monday, and I’ll send someone to give you the details in person tomorrow.”

“Alright. I’ll be waiting.”

“One more thing.”

“What’s that?” He was ready to hang up; thinking became too tiring. But tomorrow; tomorrow, he’d consider this; now was his time off.

“You did leave footprints today, everyone knows. That you got in trouble, and the police were called. What if they recognize you?”

The man snorted in response.

“No way, I know our safety measures. I wouldn’t let them see my face. It was just an accident, okay. A harmless one. I know better and it won’t happen again” he elaborated, feigning confidence – anything just to make this conversation end.

“Are you sure it was harmless?” Luna was the most composed as she spoke, her voice completely ridden of emotions, and that was what started to worry him. As he knew, carelessness and light humor were typical of her, not this seriousness and solemnity.

“What do you mean?”

“The police have a sample of your blood” she finally spilled. “It wasn’t enough to extract your DNA, but it’s already something. Be careful next time, could you?”

His heart dropped. Confidence was gone.

“…Got it.”

“That’s all. Just take care of yourself, Hyunie.”

“Yeah…”

“Sleep well tonight. You have a long day ahead.” She made a quiet smooch sound.

“Goodnight, Luna.”

The line went dead.

For the next few minutes, Baekhyun stared straight ahead, seemingly deep in thought.

In fact, though, he was depleted of thoughts. He was stuck in the bubble of no thinking, no reasons, no emotions, as his brain processed the information it just gathered, but the process was happening outside of his consciousness.

He wished to stay in his thoughtless bubble for longer, but the thin barrier between his consciousness and his internal dialogue finally broke, and he was flooded with everything that he’d been keeping at bay ever since the conversation started.

And so, Byun Baekhyun started contemplating all the things that he preferred to keep away from himself, so as to not spiral into depression and frustration.

He chose a job, thinking, that the breach of law will give him the freedom he desperately wanted.

He ended up dependent on other people to the point where not even the law could protect him anymore; exactly the opposite – the law didn’t seem much of an obstacle anymore, in comparison to all the other things he got tangled in. It wasn’t a lifestyle that one could escape, and he’d learned it way too late.

He tried to achieve independence, but he became a pawn in other people’s hands, irrelevant to the big things happening around; trusted and respected, yet simply disposable at someone else’s command.

There was only one way he knew that could help him regain the sense of control.

And that was how Byun Baekhyun coped.

* * *

“Bend over.”

She obliges without a question, leaning over the table in front of her. Apparently, he’s interested in her behind, rather than the chest that was only a bit pink from the previous hits. She’s an obedient, but slightly frisky one, one that aims to please while also hoping for some pleasure for herself, getting bored easily, but also fussy if something goes not as she wants. Baekhyun breaks her spirit every time they meet, ridding her of any remaining selfishness.

But she enjoys the pain. He makes sure she enjoys nothing else.

The first hit makes her moan, rather than resist. Her skin is smooth, with no scars, and he makes sure it won’t stay this way for much longer, at least for the next few weeks that it will take to heal after he’s done.

The next few swats must feel nice as well, but then her voice falters and turns into quiet whimpers. She doesn’t try to move away, instead, she leans back, at least for the next few hits until it becomes too much and she tries to move away instead.

She doesn’t speak, and neither does he; the sound of the riding crop hitting her bottom mixes with her breath becoming strained and whines becoming louder from pain.

* * *

It was a few days later that Baekhyun sat again in his favorite, cozy area of The Queen of Spades, with a man taller, but younger than himself; it was not so difficult to be taller than Baekhyun, but at the age of 29, most of the people in his circle of closest friends were younger, while most of the ones in his work field were older, which was some sort of a good sign, meaning that he’s worth more than most people of his age.

29 years old – a confusing age. He should have had his life figured out by now, and, to some extent, he had – he knew what he was good at, and what he could do to slowly ensure himself a stable retirement. But to say he was pleased with his career of choice would probably be a misstatement. Yet, that was what he had, and that was what he needed to accept.

They sat on the leather couch that he usually occupied. The taller, bar-styled table and two chairs were on the right side of the couch – he usually used them when carrying on serious conversations. But currently, he was there just to rest, and so in use was the couch. He glanced at the man on his side – leaning his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder, looking fragile despite, in comparison to Baekhyun, being the stronger silhouette.

“Don’t fall asleep, Sehun.”

No answer came, and he didn’t feel a strong need to disturb the other’s rest. Maybe it wouldn’t be too appropriate to sleep in such a place, making an impression of getting drunk over the limits – which was not really the case, alcohol wasn’t the reason for Sehun’s tiredness – however, in fact, who was there to judge them? Especially with Baekhyun being a regular customer who knew everyone else with such a title; and most of them knew what he was up to as well, and why the people he came with usually were not in the most energetic moods.

The music playing in The Queen of Spadeswas usually quiet and climatic, R&B and jazz tunes mixed with the voices of people, and people coming here usually didn’t try stir the bar’s aura.

In fact, it was exactly the opposite.

The moment a person entered the bar, welcomed by the dim space of browns, beiges, woods, and crystals, their soul instantly filled with the calm atmosphere. The aesthetic and climate gave a clear cue, that intruding them wouldn’t be worth much; it was the best to accept and follow, to allow the place to create the unique experience.

“Sehun, are you sleeping?” Baekhyun glanced at the other, and the man only hummed lowly in response. Baekhyun’s shoulder began to cramp, so he gently lifted the other’s head and rested it on the couch’s backrest instead. Sehun instantly moved a little to adjust, but it didn’t seem like he’d want to get up anytime soon. Baekhyun eyed the bruises on his neck – slowly darkening fingerprints of his own.

The bar’s door suddenly opened, catching his attention with noise when the door accidentally hit the wall. Two girls walked in: one of them he saw come here a few times before, alone and not, and the other… well, the other he had not only seen before, but would most likely see in the future as well. What a coincidence.

[F/n] looked nothing like when he last saw her; primarily because, at the museum, she wore modest clothes that suited the situation. Now, in tight fitted pants and a loose shirt exposing a fair amount of cleavage, she looked way more like a girl of her age, similar to many others that came to the bar every day. If not for the fact he knew her, he wouldn’t have paid her much attention now; however, he did know a bit, and if not her appearance, then at least the personality behind it kept his eyes on her until she looked over her shoulder, sparing him a shy glance, as though either knowing he’s looking at her, or, at the very least, expecting him in the same place as he usually was – in fact, he guessed it would be the latter.

She smiled at him softly, and he reciprocated the smile, tension on his face dissipating; the smile grounded him, in a way, reminding him of the fact that, just as he could watch anyone now, he could also be watched. His presence also didn’t make her as tense as it did before, which was relieving – he started worrying if he didn’t go too far during their official first meeting. The word sensitive written on the page of his notebook wasn’t taken out of the blue. She was fragile, he could tell; not in a bad way – but he knew how his demeanor impacted her back then. But that was sort of a proof in itself, a proof of her determination, because despite this impact, she didn’t back out when she had the chance to.

He still felt that she’s not completely aware of what came with the lifestyle – hobby? activity? – that she was getting herself into. Yet, when he thought about it, how could anyone know that for sure, before they had a taste of what’s it like? If anything, he could give her a chance, he thought; a trial, to see if not only she’s in for her own indulgence, but if she can handle what he himself is interested in.

“Wazzup?” Sehun’s voice sounded by his side. The man was undoubtedly good at recognizing his changes in moods. When Baekhyun didn’t feel confident enough to say too much, it was usually Sehun who asked the questions, allowing him to spill out what was on his mind.

“Nothing much. There’s a girl, though, she wants to join” he explained slowly. Sehun’s face didn’t change at the statement.

“You want to take her?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Ah, so.”

“What do you think?” Baekhyun glanced down at the other; Sehun didn’t look at him, his eyes remained closed.

“Well, I don’t know her. But since Byeoli moved out, your circle’s been kind of empty. There’s me, Chaejang, Lisa… well, yeah, that’s it. You haven’t taken anyone new in a while, and old ones are leaving… Aren’t you getting bored?”

“I’m not bored with any of you.” The statement was simple, but meaningful; Sehun smiled softly at that.

“Well, but you seem to have a lot of free time now, and when you have too much free time, you do stupid things.”

Baekhyun scoffed.

“I mean it.” Sehun looked at him directly now. “You’re getting lonely. You need stimuli.”

To the last statement, there was no answer. The men sat there in silence for some more time, until the glasses became empty, until there was nothing more to sit there for, and until the night became so deep that it threatened with becoming the morning soon.

* * *

“Will this be all?”

“Yes, thank you.”

You gave the customer in front of you a bill with the price of his purchase – an average one, just some grocery; not like you paid it much attention – and took the calculated amount of cash from his hand. No change, no problem. You shared a warm smile, as warm as you could muster up at the late hour. It was one of the days when your natural shyness and introversion didn’t get in the way, and you could enjoy the few polite words exchanged with the people passing the store.

“Thank you, goodnight.”

Right as the door closed behind the man, your phone suddenly called and you reached under the counter, where some of your personal things rested during your shift, ready to reach for if necessary.

“Hello?”

“Hello. Am I disturbing you?” Your heart skipped at the familiarity of the voice. However, this time it wasn’t due to anxiety – you started to look forward to his response, and it was like butterflies in your stomach when you received one. You probably should save his number, though.

“Um… Not much” you replied honestly.

“Is your Friday afternoon free?”

“This Friday?” It was Wednesday, you consulted your imaginary calendar.

“Yeah” he replied shortly.

“Um… Sorry, I have the night shift. Saturday?” You counteroffered right away, not wanting him to take your response as a rejection.

“Won’t you be tired?”

“I’ll sleep it off before the afternoon. I’m used to it.” Your free hand fiddled nervously with the strap of your ID badge.

“Hm, okay then. Can we meet at The Queen of Spades? I live nearby too.”

“Where are we going?”

“To my place.” He hesitated for just a second or two. “Are you okay with that?”

The statement made all the cogs in your head move. You hesitated now, too.

Was it what you thought it was? You couldn’t be sure – it could have been just another one of the ordinary meetings, one to get to know each other better, one to pass free time. It was still soon – you didn’t expect it to happen so fast. Even in the span of the time that has passed ever since seeing him for the first time, till reaching this particular point – it still felt so fast, as though after all these years of hopeless yearning you weren’t ready for jumping into the deep end and bringing your dreams to life.

Yet, your instincts were at ease, no red flags, no suspicions. You didn’t feel a need to refuse, or to wait. What would happen if you did – wouldn’t you end up regretting it? Would you be stuck in your safe-zone forever? Although you felt naïve in your trust, you still trusted your instincts foremost.

So the answer came naturally.

“Yes. Yes, I’m in.”

* * *

Please, reblog if you enjoyed, it'll help me a bunch

Author's note: How's everyone doing~? I hope you're enjoying yourselves. Please let me know your thoughts on adding that little criminal thread! And, while waiting for the next update, consider checking out my masterlist~

Next (Chapter 3.)

[neverminditsnamjoon]

BTS Cuddling/Showing Affection (HCs)

In honor of Yoongi’s birthday, here is my first writing project for BTS! Massive thank you to @yoongisshadow​ for being my partner in crime, editor/proofreader, and providing some of the gifs!! Go follow her if you’re not already--she’s amazing!

Genre: Tooth-rotting fluff, rated PG

Word Count: ~1800

Jin

If he’s chilling on the couch, he likes when you put your head on his shoulder

That way he can rest his head against yours

Has definitely fallen asleep in this position (more than once)

He tends to sleep with his hands resting on his stomach

If you’re there, he’ll fold one of your hands under his, smiling serenely when you rub your fingers in circles over his tummy

If you’re laying in bed, he prefers to lay against your side, with a single arm thrown over your midsection

Will immediately wake up if you move

He enjoys other forms of cuddling as well

Like letting you rest with your head in his lap

“So you can look up and see my handsome face.”

He also loves hugs a ridiculous amount (have you seen those shoulders?? perfect for Hug!!)

Jin will find any excuse to hug you, and wraps his arms around you until he can literally feel you relax into him

Acts of service are his love language

So you best bet he’s gonna cook for you

If Jin doesn’t bring you food (and feed it to you himself) at least once a day, you get worried

You’re his go-to taste tester, and you get stupidly happy upon hearing Jin call to you from the kitchen, “Honey, come taste this for me.”

He owns a Kiss the Cook apron, and he will definitely enforce it

Yoongi

Yoongi shows affection by giving you nice gifts

Sometimes it’s a coffee, made just the way you like it

Sometimes it’s a $1300 Chanel necklace

There’s no telling lol

Whether it’s a four-dollar coffee or something extravagant, the gift is always presented with a shrug and a nonchalant expression

But when you kiss him and whisper your thanks, he’s all gums

“Bad Boy” doesn’t do PDA, at all. However-

He is known to fall asleep at random, and you usually happen to be sitting next to him when he does

Taehyung has an album on his phone just for pictures of Yoongi snoozing on your shoulder, his mouth open

Tae never posts them for fear of his own life, but he’s sent you a couple

One of them is your lockscreen

When it’s just the two of you, he relaxes a little more

It’s a subtle, quiet vulnerability, but you’ve learned to pick up on it

When he gives you a gummy smile after you’ve had a bad day, you know it means “I care about you”

When he brushes his fingers across your back, you know he’s saying “I love you”

When he asks, “are you cold?”, you know it’s an invitation to curl up into his side

His arm around your shoulder is enough to feel how much he enjoys your presence

You toss and turn in the night, but Yoongi is in the exact same place when you wake

“Of course he’ll be a rock in his next life,” you think to yourself. “He already sleeps like one.”

Hobi

Bangtan’s resident Aquarius isn’t always the best at showing his emotions via physical affection

So Hobi doesn’t do any mushy-gushy affection in public

Mostly, it’s just him always trying to make you laugh

Goofy dances, dumb jokes, and silly faces. Anything to see his girl smile :’)

Every once in a while, he’ll give you a colored drawing he made, giggling a cute amount when he sees you’re excited about it

When he’s really, really tired, Hobi gets cuddly

He loves laying on his back between your legs, with his arms resting on them

If he leans his head back against your chest, he can hear the soft thrum of your heartbeat

This sound lulls him to sleep without fail, and it’s the sole reason he gets enough rest sometimes

When you come home from a rough day at work, he holds his arms open to you and squeezes you tight

For a man who’s an actual wordsmith, he can get mighty tongue-tied around you

So he puts his most intimate confessions in his raps

No one will ever hear them, but he utters them quietly to you when he thinks you’re asleep

He goes beet red one night when you open your eyes and gaze up at him with more love than you thought you could ever feel

“You wrote that for me?”

He can only sputter and chuckle nervously in response, but you kiss him and say, “I love it.”

“I love you,” is his answer, accompanied by his brilliant smile

Namjoon

A very loving and sweet boyfriend, as we all can guess

Even being the leader of one of the biggest bands in the world, Joon manages to be a pillar of emotional support for you

He’s always sure to check in with you between practices and recording sessions, or when he’s away on tour

Has never forgotten a birthday or anniversary, treating you to a lovely dinner and flowers every time

He’s never afraid to show his affection for you wherever you happen to be

Sometimes it’s the weight of an arm slung over your shoulders, and a soft kiss pressed to the side of your head

The boys don’t even make fun of him for being affectionate, partly out of fear and partly out of respect because they can tell he loves you so much

When you’re out and about, it’s hand holding

One of your favorite memories is walking down the street downtown, window shopping and judging people together

You’re not sure how Joon makes hand-holding look and feel so cool, but he does

His love language is definitely words of affirmation, but he still likes getting you little gifts here and there, especially while he’s abroad

He knows better than to buy you anything breakable, for fear that it might not get to you in one piece lol

No matter what, they’re always thoughtful

Insists on being the big spoon all the time

So he can kiss the top of your head and wrap his arms around you to make you feel safe

Joon usually wakes up before you and makes breakfast, but on the rare occasion you get up first, he always comes looking for you

Just imagine a sleepy Namjoon waking up and calling out, “Baby?” when you get up before him :(

Jimin

This boy is constantly kissing you, holding your face with both hands and giggling

And he WILL pout if you’re not constantly kissing him too

Always has his arms around you, hugging you from the back with his chin resting on your shoulder

His favorite thing to do, to make you smile every time, is sweeping you along with him for a dance

Even if you’re not coordinated, he twirls you around the room, singing loudly until he sees you smile

“You’re doing great, baby!”

Jimin showers you with compliments every chance he gets

From your outfit to your hair, to your talents to your glowing personality, he’s got a smooth compliment for it

When you’re relaxing in the evenings together, and Jimin is extra snuggly, he’ll push you over onto the couch and lay on top of you

He thrives on skin-to-skin contact and doesn’t care who sees

Because Jimin is babie, and better yet, he’s YOUR baby

He can fall asleep in any position, as long as you’re snuggled up with him

Hands holding, arms around each other, whatever--it’s all good to Mochi

He prefers to be woken up by you, instead of any of the members, because he can get kisses from you with just a second of puppy dog eyes

Will shamelessly flirt with you regardless of setting, and has definitely made eyes at you while he’s on stage or interviewing

Lots of people have one or two love languages, but Park Jimin has all five

He brings you gifts after every trip, and at this point you have more stuffed animals than you can count

Taehyung

Also constantly kissing your face

Highkey loves it when you play with his hair (the man is basically a golden retriever)

He’s known to nuzzle his face into your neck, especially if he’s sleepy

Physical affection (giving and receiving) is the recipe for his happiness

Arms? Around you. Hands? Holding yours. Happy Tae? Check.

Tae is especially fond of giving you his clothes and accessories

If you look a bit chilly, Taehyung will immediately take off his coat and drape it around your shoulders

He’ll take off his hat or scarf and carefully place it on you, even sometimes giving you his necklaces and earrings

Loves doing activities together, whether it be cooking, video games, or being outside

As long as you’re nearby, Taehyung is having a blast

He’s particularly enthusiastic when it comes to supporting you in your career and passions

When you burst through the door yelling that you’ve gotten a promotion, Tae is all shrieking noises and throwing shoes

If you start a new hobby, Tae has pictures of whatever it is and has definitely shown them to everyone who will look

“Isn’t she great?”

When you’re alone together, he always serenades you

No matter the music you’re jamming to, Taehyung is dancing around you and singing it to you at full volume

When he’s sleepy or feeling down, Tae’s favorite way to snuggle is the two of you laying down facing each other

That way you can run your hands through his hair and he can whisper sweet nothings to you

Jungkook

Enjoys receiving affection more than giving, unless you’re completely alone

If it’s just the two of you, Koo will make grabby hands for you to come sit on his lap while he’s at his computer

He’ll pick up takeout and pat the seat next to him, asking you join him for dinner

His hands are literally always in your hair

Brushing, twirling, stroking

Sings to you ALL. THE. TIME.

Sometimes absentmindedly, but other times he’ll show you a song idea and sing it to you shyly

He laughs and blushes a little when you praise him for it

Koo loves drawing on your arms, if you’ll let him, because it reminds you of him

When you’re around others, he isn’t as lovey-dovey, but you notice a slight pout in his lips if you aren’t giving him enough attention

This can be quickly relieved by bumping your nose into his neck, or squeezing his arm gently

But the best part of Jungkook’s affection for you? The way you know he REALLY cares about you?

Homeboy actually responds to your texts.

I know, I can’t believe it either

Koo has been seen many times pulling his phone out during a break in practice and smiling to himself as he replies to your memes and check-ins

The rest of the guys clown the shit out of him for being so babie with you, but he takes it like a champ

Because you’re his girl, and he loves you so much

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

The Morning After - Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia

A/N: This is the second part of the smut prompt: Did we fu*k last night? I was really excited to continue this story and I hope you like it too. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking. 

You can read the first part HERE. :) 

Pairing: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F! Reader 

Warnings: 18 + NSFW Explicit (language, lingerie, kissing, oral (F! receiving), multiple orgasms, p in v sex, fluff) 

Word Count: 3.1K 

My Masterlist 

The Morning After 

Last Time...

You look at the text message again. The perfect night of passion with Santiago, and he doesn't even remember if you…The phone chimes again. 

Santiago Garcia: I'm a moron. I don't know why I said that. I know that we did. It was one of the most incredible moments of my life. 

You: Then what the fuck, Santiago?

Santiago Garcia: I want to take you to breakfast, on a date. It's the least you could do after bailing on me last night. 

You: Well, I'm not sure I want to. 

Santiago Garcia: Well, that makes this awkward. 

You: What? 

Knock Knock 

*******

You throw yourself off the bed, almost tripping as you run into the bathroom and squeeze toothpaste all over the brush and furiously start brushing your teeth. Throwing off your shirt and shorts, you trip over the edge of the mattress, reaching into the drawer and pulling out a new bra and panties in black lace. You didn't know if it would lead to a repeat of last night, but a good soldier is always prepared before they go into battle. 

Tossing a black silk robe around your shoulders and cinching the waist, you run to the door. Taking a few moments to collect yourself before reaching towards the handle. On the other side, Santiago leans against the door jam, arms crossed over his chest. Jeans hugging him closer than a glove, navy blue t-shirt tight across his chest, and that damn hat low on his forehead. He looks up at you through the veil of his lashes, and you feel yourself burn under his gaze. 

"Can I help you?" you feel a surge of confidence, and his smile falters for a moment before he leans down and picks up a white box tied with a pink string and a drink carrier with four cups. "What's all this?" you point to the items, and his smile grows. 

"I told you last night I wanted to see you again," he lifts up the items, "I brought breakfast. I thought we could talk unless I royally fucked everything up with that text." Part of you wants to slam the door in his face, but the deeper part of you thinks about the way he ran back to kiss you. The way his lips felt warm and soft against your own as he asked you not to run away. 

"Come in," you say quietly, and he smiles, passing the threshold and following you to the dining room. He opens the box, and your mouth waters; pastries and sweets of all kinds, almost bursting out of the box. "My god, how many people are you planning to feed?" 

He blushes, looking away and uncapping the cups. "I didn't know what you'd want most, so I got one of everything they had in the case. I also got a latte, cappuccino, black coffee, and apple cider. I'm not sure what you wanted." 

You pause, "Apple cider? How did you know I-" 

"You really think last night was the first time I noticed you, baby?" He steps closer, and your eyes widen, "I've noticed everything about you. How much you love apple cider, your favorite color, and how you like all your pens in a nice row at the top of your desk." His hand glides up to your waist and hovers over the string tied around your waist. "I also know you're not wearing any clothes under this sheer thing." 

You quickly look down and curse. "Fuck," you didn't mean to put on the sheer robe, just the silk one. You quickly turn and walk away from him towards your bedroom, but his whistle catches your attention, and you turn. 

He saunters over slowly, one hand running over his mouth, his eyes rake over your body. Each sound of his boot on the hardwoods, making you shiver as he gets closer and closer. "Where are you running off too?" His tone surprises you; the softness not expected compared to the heat in his eyes. 

"I need to change; I didn't mean for...I didn't mean to wear the sheer." His eyes look at you, and you bite your lip as he reaches a handout and strokes it over your ass, closing the last bit of difference. 

"Do you want me to go?" he whispers, and his lips are but a ghost upon your own. "I came here to have breakfast with you, to talk," he leans over and kisses your cheek, "to get to know you," he goes to the other cheek and places his soft, warm lips upon it. Leaning down towards your ear, "Tell me you haven't thought about last night. Because it's all, I've been thinking about since I finished my speech and realized you were gone." 

He pulls back, and you see a flash of hurt in his eyes before it's gone. Years of hiding his emotions from others building up his defenses. "Why did you leave?" The question hangs in the air for a moment, neither of you moving. 

"I- I didn't want to see how little I meant to you," there the words are out—the truth of why you had to leave him after that perfect moment. "I'd gone back in to grab my bag and coat, and you were talking to that other woman at the bar. I may have acted confident last night, but I don't do one-night stands." 

His hands cup your cheeks, and you let out a small sniffle begging yourself not to cry. "I guess I didn't help the situation with my text this morning." 

You let out a watery chuckle, "no, it most certainly did not. Did you...did you go home with her?"

"Do you think I would go home with another woman and then show up at your house bringing you breakfast?" He wipes the traitor tears that have begun to streak down your cheeks. "Baby, it's you. It's been you for months, ever since Frankie introduced us. I just...shit, I don't know how to date. I did this whole thing backward; I'd been working up the courage to ask you out, and then we had fucking mind-blowing sex in an alley, and now I'm telling you my feelings." 

"You really are hopeless." He stops and looks at you, his face drooping like you stepped on his favorite toy. "But I like you too." 

He's frozen, and you reach up and wave a hand in front of his face to get his attention. "Santiago?" He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each pad of your fingertips gently. The heat slowly rising as he finishes with your fingers and moves to your hand, your wrist, and up your arm until he finds your collarbone and places wet open mouth kisses. You whimper as he works higher to your neck and his hands drop down to the tie at your waist. "Can I take this off, baby?" You nod, and he moves to remove the tie pulling it apart at the waist and slipping it down your shoulders. 

He pulls away to look down, and his eyes turn darker as he drops the sheer robe to the ground. He circles you like a hawk, his hand creating a blazing path as it follows the curves of your body. Till he comes to stand before you, "Fuck, your so beautiful." You take his hat off his head and put it on your own. 

"Since we've already screwed up the order of things, why not just say what the hell and do it again?" His eyes are alight with mischief, and he pulls you close hands, kneading the flesh of your ass, your thong not leaving much to the imagination. Santi's an ass man, good to know. 

"On one condition," he's but a breath away from kissing you, and you just want him to finally kiss you. 

"What's that?" 

"The hat stays on." He crashes his lips onto your own, and you reciprocate tenfold. Both of you wound up tighter than a top as he slowly walks you backward until you hit the wall, hard. You whimper, and he pulls away, looking down at you in concern. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" 

"No," fuck this is embarrassing, "My back is just sore from…" His face splits into a shit eating grin, and you curse at how self-satisfied he looks. 

"From when I fucked my baby so good she came twice in the alley of a brewery on the night of my best friend's bachelor party?" 

You scoff, "No, from when some guy fucked me so good, he dug my back into the wall and made it sore." 

"How about I give you a massage?" His voice drops an octave as he pulls on your wrist, and you direct him to the bedroom. "Lay down on the bed, face down. Do you have any lotion or oil?" You go over to your little treasure trove of sexual delights, and he follows eagerly, pulling out a variety of items, including the warming oil. "Perfect, now strip." 

You turn and push him onto the bed, and he looks confused at you for a moment before his mouth drops open. You stand in the middle of the bedroom, moving your hips to a slow sensual rhythm in your head as you reach for the clasp on the bra, unsnapping it and giggling your chest forward to bring the straps down. His Adam's apple bobs as he watches your breasts sway as you step out of your panties bare before him. Approaching the bed, you move like your going to kiss him before you flop onto your stomach, giggling onto the bed. 

He laughs before his hand comes down to smack and knead your butt, leaning down and placing a kiss. You hear him squeeze the bottle of oil into his hands and rub them together to activate the warmth. Moaning as he finally touches the skin of your back and rubs them firmly down your spine. Fuck, he is good at giving massages; this might need to become a regular thing. You whimper as he works out a painful knot, and his breathing gets heavier as the slick begins to pool between your legs. 

"Shit, baby, those noises you make may become the death of me." You turn over, and he freezes hands poised above you as you look at him with lust ridden eyes. "Can I touch you here?" He hovers over your breasts, and you nod, biting your lip as he massages your breasts. The rough, calloused hands graze over your nipple before he leans down and captures one in his mouth. His eyes never leaving yours as he moves to the other, enveloping the hard nub into his mouth and sucking. 

He kisses his way back between the hollow of your breasts and then lower down your stomach. "Santi, you did that last night; let me taste you," you whine, and he tsks with his tongue coming back up to kiss your lips. 

"I love eating your sweet pussy; please don't deprive me of that. I want to see those beautiful lips wrapped around my cock but not right now. Let me taste you, baby, that's all I want." He licks your lips, and you open for him as you dance for dominance. "Up," he slaps the side of your ass, "I want you to ride my face, let me bury my tongue deep and taste you cum all over my tongue." Oh...fuck… "Plus my knees," he pauses and almost looks ashamed, "my knees can't take any more after last night." 

You sit up and cup his cheek, "My back and your knees, we make quite the pair, don't we?" He lets out a laugh, nodding, "Lay down, I will give you anything you want," he smiles, "within reason." 

He lays down on the bed, and you shift your knees to lay on either side of his head, holding onto the headboard to steady yourself, but he can't wait to pull you down. You let out a gasp as his tongue plunges inside you and licks broad stripes up and down your soaked cunt. "Santi," you whimper, and his fingers dig into your hips so you can't get away as he wrecks you with his mouth. You've always been vocal as you whimper, and moan, fingers digging into the headboard as he moves you forward and inserts a finger inside. "Oh my fuck," he adds a second and starts pumping into you, his other hand keeping you down. 

The pleasure is blinding as he works you faster, his tongue latching onto your clit and sucking hard. You cum all over his face as his tongue licks up every single drop, and you scream out his name. His palm holding tight to you to keep you down on him, lapping up every drop. He never stops, and you pant out his name and tap his hand holding you. "I want you inside me, fuck, for the love of god Santi," he lets go of your clit with a pop. 

"You can do it again, cum again for me, Querida," the smooth Spanish husky and deep as he gulps air before diving back in has you cumming again in no time flat. Your knuckles hurting from how hard you're digging into the headboard. 

He finally pulls his mouth away, and you tremble, hesitant to move, so you don't collapse and smother him in pussy. Although with Santiago, that would probably be a preferable way to go. You tremble as he takes one more wide lick of your pussy before shuffling out from under you, allowing you to collapse to the bed. You look up at him over the brim of his hat still on your head, and he smiles down at you before kissing you. You taste yourself on his tongue and moan into his mouth. "I want you to ride my cock baby, do you think you can do that?" 

"But Santi," you whine, "I want to suck your cock." He kisses your pouty lips softly and chuckles. 

"I plan to be around for a long time baby, there will be plenty of time for that. I want you to cum all over my cock, let me fill you so full you will be thinking of me every day for the next week." You bite your lip, running your hands through his hair and down his neck, cupping it. You feel a small line at the back of his neck, and you turn his head to see a scar. 

"What's this?" you ask, and his smile drops. 

"It's nothing," he tries to kiss you again, but you stop pulling away. 

"No more secrets," you cup his cheek, "Nothing will change the way I feel about you." 

"I had surgery about two years ago, my knees were already shot, but this surgery...it made everything worse. I'm worried that you are going to realize how broken I truly am and-" you cut him off with a kiss. 

"Nothing," you kiss him softly and push him down on the bed, "Absolutely nothing will change the way I feel about you. I'm choosing you. If your knees are shot, then you will have to lie there as I ride your cock, and your face, and suck your dick." 

The tears pool in his eyes, and you unbuckle his jeans and work them and his boxers down his legs and tossing them to the floor. "Take off your shirt," he lifts his arms and pulls off the navy t-shirt. The eye contact is intense, almost like you can see into his soul as you kiss each of his knees, his thighs, and the tip of his cock. 

"Get up here," he crooks one finger at you, and you crawl up his body, kissing him as you line him up with your entrance. Rubbing him through your slick. "Fuck, querida, you're so wet for me, aren't you? Such a good girl." The last word cracks as you impale yourself on him. 

Both of you moaning together as you take him deeper and deeper inside you. Until you are entirely seated on him, feeling that wonderful full feeling from the night before. You start slowly rocking your hips back and forth, each time hitting your clit deliciously. You begin to build up speed until your bouncing on his cock, tits bouncing in time with each thrust. "You look so goddamn beautiful wearing my hat and bouncing on my cock." 

"That's it. Be a good girl and ride me, baby," his hand comes and slaps the skin of your ass, and you groan, feeling the pleasure building. His other hand coming around to circle your clit. "Come on, coat my coat in all those delicious juices, baby. I want you to cum all over my cock." He plants his feet on the bed and starts fucking up into you, pounding your pussy. 

"Fuck, Santi, I'm gonna cum," you scream and clench around his cock as he praises you in English and Spanish cumming inside you almost instantly. He fills you so wholly, ropes of cum pouring inside you.

"Shit baby, I'm so sorry," he looks at you alarmed, "I didn't, I di-" 

"I have an IUD," you say him kissing him softly, and he returns it, letting out a breath. 

You pull off him, both of you groaning and collapse in his arms. "You know I really loved what we did in the alley last night, but this is better. I love just holding you like this." You sigh and giggle as your stomach grumbles. He laughs, "It looks like breakfast was a good idea. How about we bring that box in here and have some coffee and then do that again?" 

"I think that's a fantastic idea," you kiss him again and go grab the box, putting on the correct robe this time. 

************ 

Later 

Danger Zone rings throughout the room, and Santi reaches over your shoulder to his jeans on the floor, pulling out his phone. "Who's that?" you stretch and yawn, Santi keeping his other arm around you as he answers the phone. 

"Hello?" You hear the shouting on the other end and look at Santi, who looks just as alarmed. 

"FUCK, SHIT, I'M COMING! FUCK, I know! My tux is in the truck, don't worry, I will be there soon!" He hangs up the phone and stands up, reaching for his jeans. 

"Baby, we got to go," you sit up and watch him run around. 

"What's going on?" 

"It's two o'clock weddings in forty-five minutes! Frankie may really shoot me this time if I miss his wedding. I'm going to go get my tux, get dressed!" He runs out of the room, shirtless with his jeans unbuttoned. You sit there shocked before he is running back in, kneeling before you on the bed, "Will you be my date to the wedding?" 

"Of course," you shout, and he's kissing you again and running out the door. Life with Santiago will never be boring. 

 Should I make a part 3 where they go to the wedding together? Let me know. :)

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @heythere-mel​ @justanotherblonde23​ @artsymaddie​ @anetteaneta​ @lunarthoughts​ @aellynera​ @lucifer-​ @houseofthirst​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @chicken-ona-stick​ @agirllovespancakes​ @letoartreiides​ @revolution-starter​ @josepedropascal​ 

 Others who might be interested: @mrsparknuts​ @neverlandlibrarian​ @the-purity-pen​ @thestreamergirl​ 

[razorblade180]

Overall thoughts on V8? Assuming you didn't answer this already.

I meant to do a volume wrap up review but I got incredibly busy and it fell to the waste side. The thing about me judging RWBY I have to come at it from two angles or I won’t feel like I judged it appropriately. There’s the casual, first time seeing the episodes and seeing this through the lens as a casual watcher who probably only sees the episodes once or twice. But then there’s the other side to that coin. I review these episodes, write aus, theorize, check extended lore, listen to the music, etc; that means I have to go back and watch episodes several times for any given reason and that’s when you start noticing the holes or picking up on things you didn’t before.

As a casual watcher, I’d give this an 8/10. There’s plenty of moments where characters do things that got me excited and plot points I wanted explored. This volume actually gave a decent amount of things I wanted for quite some time and some things I didn’t know I needed. Certainly there are things I don’t like in this but I’m open and curious to see where RT takes their storie because it’s their story.

Okay, now as a someone who’s had to deep dive and take a step back multiple times for a variety of reasons. 6.5/10 maybe a 7/10 if I’m being generous. A lot of my problems with this volume are problems that aren’t new to RWBY and that’s just how surface layer portions of arcs are and how a variety of choices/bonds don’t exactly make sense with what we were previously shown, or they only make sense because the writers don’t want introduce other complexities even though they should be there realistically. I’ll give a couple examples of these and yes, I’m aware what I say doesn’t bother everyone but it bothers me.

Qrow was never angry at or brought up Robyn being the reason their airship crashed in the first place because she started the fight; which aids in Clover dying.

Emerald follows Cinder, not Salem. Even if Cinder is working under Salem, why would Emerald be so willingly to complete shift to the side that actively goes against Cinder? There’s been no grand revelation to make Emerald believe Cinder doesn’t give a damn about her. Leaving made sense because she was about to get tortured. Going full turncoat right now doesn’t. No change happened. Emerald always hated being near Salem but adored Cinder no matter the crimes and the show hasn’t done anything to switch that view point.

I’m happy Whitley and Weiss had a touching sibling moment that implies they’re okay and making/made up, but there was never a conversation about the actual problem and thoughts that had them at odds in the first place. Weiss saving his and Willow’s life shouldn’t be the thing that smooths things over. It would’ve been terrible if Weiss do something to save their life. Whitley helping Penny is okay I guess because he really had no reason to contribute but did anyways. Even so, a person doing a morally correct thing doesn’t automatically warrant the conflict between him and Weiss’s resolved.

We got Cinder’s backstory; it didn’t tell us anything about how she eventually came into contact with Salem. Honestly her back story felt more in line of her main goal through the series was an absolute freedom by the means of breaking down the systems that trapped and didn’t give a damn, rather than her quest for power. Yes you can argue gaining power means it’s easier to maintain her freedom to do whatever she wants but I personally think that’s a little off the mark when you gave her a story that involves her trapped by rules and time rather than being too physically weak to gain freedom.

This show has built up that the Schnee family has suffered various types of abuse because of Jacques and uses Weiss as a medium to build towards breaking free from that. Not just overcoming but confronting the abuse by cementing it’s place below you. We don’t really get that. There will never be a moment where the siblings and mother truly get to break out of Jacques grasps emotionally and then put him in his place because he’s dead! Yeah they never have to worry about him again but even last volume they showed Winter still having turmoil and being able to get strung along by him. We don’t even really know how Whitley perceived his father. It feels so lackluster. Then they care to mention how it’s Weiss’s idea to save him like it’s an empowering moment when in actuality, it would be against her character, values of a huntress, and morality to let a person die in cell when you’re the reason they’re in a cell! Letting him die in there would just terrible. I don’t even know why he wasn’t let out in that scene! He’s a coward! He’d follow their orders to save his skin. All he has to do is shut up and walk through a portal.

Ironwood and Oscar both knew they could remove that staff to use it and Atlas wouldn’t drop immediately. Why did nobody have any kind of compromise with one another since there’s nothing stopping them from using the staff for something and then putting it back? They had this morally gray thing going on which I liked but then they decided to make Ironwood go full evil. I’ve never had to say this before but the song he got in V7 and the character they made him be in V8 just don’t connect. I got upset listening to that song recently because I liked that Ironwood.

Clover’s importance. RT tried making a character who had no more than 9 minutes in the series and one meaningful line of dialogue into the cornerstone of a side plot. Clover is such a nothing character. Vine did more than Clover. They try to make him have such a profound impact to the people around him but we never see him bond with his team; Harriet specifically. We get one scene of Clover telling Qrow the kids are fortunate to have Qrow even if he doesn’t think so. First, I doubt Clover knows Qrow decided to get drunk in a ghost town and the kids nearly died and cellar while he did it so that compliment doesn’t hold much weight for me. Second, We see nothing meaningful between the two. V7 has a time skip and just expects viewers to be on board with Clover being this influential change on Qrow without showing anything outside of a witty remark and Clover flexing his semblance. I would’ve bought it more of Qrow almost relapsed and Clover stopped him then had a real meaningful conversation.

Ruby goes against Ironwood only to then want to do a plan that’s aligned to longer term thinking than even his, talks about how everyone should be working together, but then adds a part in her video to actively antagonize and vilify Ironwood. Afterwards, she wonders where everything went wrong and doesn’t think of a plan or do anything to immediately help either kingdom until the final hour between the ultimatum being made, to everything getting destroyed. The inciting incident was disagreeing Mantle should be left in favor of Atlas but the main character didn’t do anything to help Mantle 90% of the season and hindered Atlas’s safety up until the final plan.

Yang is used to be the devil’s advocate in a bunch of situations, but she’s wrong most of the time or her lines just don’t make any sense. They weren’t doing just fine before Atlas. They almost died every step of the way. The team didn’t beat a Leviathan; silver eyes and a robot take credit for that. Why would Blake think less of Yang for wanting to go save people immediately? Blake was never mad at anyone to begin with. Yang consistently calls out people for following orders as if it’s objectively wrong, but is never called out on the fact she hasn’t followed anybody’s orders but her own and added discourse to every situation. I get RT is making her ask questions because that’s what Raven told her to do, but all she’s really doing is picking fights and disobeying every order. Yang states to Ruby they accomplished more than they expected. That’s false, getting Oscar back is correcting a mistake caused by her own plan that she didn’t even complete.

It took 6 volumes before Yang had anything to do with the Summer Rose subplot again and 7 volumes before her and Ruby had a sister to sister conversations; 5 if you wanna count Yang telling Ruby to leave at the end of volume three. The reason I bring this up is because in V8 , they treat their argument as if it’s a big deal but then have every character say it wasn’t that big a deal; but then have two circle back to that conversation later after having neither character discuss to anybody that the argument actually did weigh on them. Yang doesn’t think about Ruby until she sees her again and the closest we get with Ruby is Blake reassuring her that people need her and how Blake admires her. I like that scene but it’s not the same as Ruby actually airing out the specific point that Yang said something that Ruby found hurtful. Vol8 in general people trying to comfort others but nobody ever actually addresses what made them uncomfortable to start with. Except Ren.

This one is a nitpicking but I’ll say it anyways. Penny getting hacked only served as a purpose to go to the vault, a thing Ironwood already wanted them to do. Nobody got her because she was hacked. You can’t even say her getting hacked is the leading factor to her actually dying because Penny became a vulnerable human afterwards that can’t be rebuilt. Pietro was gone, and already stated last volume he doesn’t have the aura to build Penny again. If she died as a robot then it’s still permanent death. No core, no Pietro, and no aura; hacking her was just to create a Hound reveal situation and make them go to the vault on a different set of terms. I’m not exactly upset with this, but I don’t understand why the extra steps. The Hound was hunting her anyways. I would’ve brought some kind of value if she hurt a friend and it caused them to potentially hinder the plan later on or remove them entirely. Penny could’ve rekt Yang and it only adds value to Yang getting one shot later. I don’t know. I’m rambling.

I think I’ve wasted enough people’s time. Honestly, I do like this volume. I’ve enjoyed a bunch of it. But there��s things that legitimately make me think it’s not as good others and makes V7 even worse.

[avengerscompound]

The Hamptons’ House: 2009 - 2

The Hamptons’ House:  A Iron Man Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a coffee with Ko-fi Word Count: 1803

Pairing:  Tony Stark x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of torture, illness, and PTSD

Synopsis: When Tony goes missing for three months in Afghanistan you grieve his death.  His subsequent return and outing as Iron Man means your first time seeing him in the Hamptons carries a lot of emotion and questions.

2009: Part 2

Tony woke just as the sun began to rise and he crawled out from between the pocket that you and Kurt had made around him.  He was reluctant to get up.  It was nice to wake up cuddled up with other people and he really relished his time with you.  He’d like to just lie there until you both woke and then spend the morning finding other reasons to stay in bed, but he had a few things to take care of before you woke, and it would be nice to take the time to watch the sunrise over the ocean.  He wasn’t completely sure he’d get another chance to see it.

He went to the workbench in his room.  It hadn’t changed much since he’d installed JARVIS.  The only new thing on there was the device he had made to check his blood toxicity level.

He’d known when he’d first made the miniaturized arc reactor having it embedded in his chest would be dangerous.  Palladium was toxic, but the toxins would kill him much slower than the pieces of shrapnel floating around in his chest so he’d hoped that he’d be able to find some alternative to the palladium, preferably before it killed him.  In the meantime, he was trying to live a little healthier.  He’d been drinking chlorophyll smoothies to try and negate the poisoning.

He pricked his finger and watched as the display lit up.

Blood Toxicity 06%.

Not too bad - he could work with that.  He would need to figure out how to get that under control though because at the rate it was going up, he was barely going to clear his next birthday.

He put the device aside and looked out the window.  He could worry about that later.  Now he had to worry about how he was going to tell you what had happened to him and how it was still not over.

He hadn’t really told anyone what had happened.  Not all of it anyway.  Some people knew parts.  Everyone knew he had been in the cave and about inventing the arc.  No one knew about the waterboarding or how from months after he got home when he got in the shower and the water hit his face - he would flinch.  Pepper, Rhodey, and some of SHIELD knew about Obidiah - but no one else.  No one knew about the dance with Pepper or how he’d realized he was falling in love with her and he was fairly certain she felt the same way.

He wanted to tell you.  You of all people wouldn’t hold any of it against him or pressure him to do something he wasn’t comfortable with.  It wasn’t going to be easy though.

“Tony?”

You spoke at barely above a whisper and yet the sound startled him in the quiet room.  He jumped a little and spun around in his chair.  Kurt still slept soundly, but you were sitting up, looking at him.  You’d pulled the sheet up to cover yourself but your breast was exposed.  He could see the look of worry on your face and a wave of guilt hit him.  He hated how upset you’d been last night.  He’d wished he could have protected you from that fear, and he had been grateful that he’d never actually started dating you in the first place.  He could only imagine how panicked you’d be if it had just been the two of you.

Tony’s automatic reaction was to smile.  It wasn’t real and he knew you’d see through it.  He hated using that smile on you, but it had become so natural to wear it.  When he realized what he was doing he let the facade fall again.  “Hey,” he whispered.  “Go back to sleep.  It’s early.”

You climbed out of bed and moved to him.  When you reached him, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close, resting his forehead on your bare chest.  “Why are you up?” You whispered.

“Guess I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted.  “Needed to get my thoughts in order.”

“Yeah?” You asked.  “Like what?”

He pulled back and looked up at you.  “Maybe we should go downstairs so we don’t wake, Kurt.”

You nodded and pulled away, going to your bag and pulling out a sleep shirt and a robe.  The two of you headed downstairs together.  The house was a hive of activity.  In the kitchen, the cooks were preparing breakfast-to-go for the party guests that were sleeping off the events of last night.  Tony paused just long enough to ask them to bring you something out to the patio before moving on.  There were maids and cleaners and Happy’s security team waking up people and moving them on as they cleaned up.  All over the living room and out on the deck people were blearily getting dressed and making their way to the buffet table that had been set up with tea, coffee, and juice and was being laden down with toast and breakfast sandwiches.

People called out happy birthday to him, but no one tried very hard to engage.  He was glad of that at least.  You followed him to the hammock and when he was comfortably lying in it, he pulled you down on top of him.

The sun was now a semi-circle on the horizon making the sky a mix of orange, pink, and purple.  You settled against him, resting your head on his shoulder, and staring out over the ocean with hooded eyes.  There was a pain in his chest where you were leaning against him.  He hurt most of the time since Afghanistan.  Having a hole carved out of your ribs and a battery shoved in where they used to be was bound to be painful.  Still, he took it.  Pain meant he was alive, and right now, that meant he was here with you.

“You gonna tell me everything?”  You asked quietly.

He rubbed your back and gave a small nod.  “Yeah,” he said.  “But I need you to promise me something, you can’t tell anyone.  Not Kurt.  Not some random friend you know who doesn’t know me.  Not Rhodey.  Especially not Rhodey.  He’ll just worry and get in my way and … I can’t do that to him.”

“You’re scaring me, Tony,” you said.

“Promise me, Cookie.  Promise me or I won’t tell you anything,” he said.

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  You looked up into his eyes and gave a small nod.  “I promise.  It stays between you and me.”

Tony kissed you softly and ran his palm up and down your back.  This was it.  He was going to unburden himself of everything and he hoped that you were the person he could do that with without regrets.

“I was making a sale in Afghanistan.  Obidiah had convinced me it was better if we did the demonstration on site.  I ate it up…”

Tony told you everything.  About how he’d been arguing with Rhodey before it happened.  How he’d been joking with the soldiers just before the explosion.  How he’d watched those soldiers die right in front of his eyes just before a bomb landed beside him with the Stark Industries’ logo on it and everything had gone black.

He told you about waking up with them making a recording for Obidiah (though he hadn’t known it at the time).  He told you about waking up again and how Yinsen had saved his life by putting a battery in his chest.  How he’d been asked to make more weapons and that when he refused they’d tortured him.  The fact that Yinsen kept trying to befriend him, and by the time Tony did trust the man, he’d already built the miniature arc reactor and had started making the metal suit.

He told you about fighting his way out.  Watching Yinsen die.  Blowing up as many of his own weapons as he could.  Rhodey finding him in the desert.  Deciding he was changing the direction of the company.  Of building a new arc reactor.  A new suit.  How Obidiah had been the one that ordered the hit.  How the man who had acted like his stand-in-father had stolen his heart right out of his chest and left him to die.  How Tony had ended up killing him with Pepper’s help and some secret government organization had covered it up.

He didn’t just tell you about the events that led him to become Iron Man though.  He’d also told you about the dance with Pepper and how he was definitely in love with her and that he was pretty sure she felt the same way but neither of them seemed to be willing to do anything about it.  He told you part of the reason why he wasn’t willing to move it forward was that the very device keeping him alive was also killing him and he didn’t have it in him to put her through losing him if they moved from being boss and employee to lovers.

He didn’t leave out one single thing.  The staff brought you both breakfast and left it on a table beside the hammock.  You both left it practically untouched as he spoke, just pausing to sip his chlorophyll smoothie or coffee briefly from time to time.  When he was done the house had cleared out and was almost completely clean, and the sun was up.  You were crying silently, tear tracks staining your cheeks.

“Oh, Tony,” you whispered.

“Please,” he said.  “I don’t want pity, okay?  I’m working on it.  You’re the only one I trust to tell all this to.”

“It’s so much, Tony,” you said.  “You need help.”

He sighed and pressed his lips to the top of your head.  “I promise, I can handle it.  And if it gets to the point that it’s too much, I’ll tell Rhodey.  But I invented this thing -” he tapped the casing on the arc, “- in a cave, under pressure, by myself.  I’m the best one to fix it.  If Rhodey and Pepper are worrying too much, it’ll just distract me.”

You frowned and nodded.  He tilted your chin up to face him.  “Now, you know,” he said.  “But the world out there isn’t part of what we have here.  Right?”

You nodded.  “Right.”

“So, we’re just going to do what we always do,” he said.  “Hang by the pool.  Relax.  Fuck.  Enjoy ourselves.  Right?”

“Right,” you agreed.  He smiled and leaned in and kissed you.  You hummed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

The sliding door opened and closed and he pulled back, looking over to see Kurt watching you both.

“Where’d you guys go?”  He asked.

Tony smirked and held out his hand.  “Why don’t you get over here and find out?”

// NEXT

[aliciameade]

Desperate Measures

Title: Desperate Measures Author: aliciameade Rating: M for MMMMutual Release Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: Mid-PP3. They are quarantined. Chloe and Beca have everything they need to weather the mandated period of social distancing and staying home: food, water, shelter, games, entertainment, and each other's company.

The one thing they don't have?

Much-needed privacy.

Also on AO3

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Chloe figures there are worse people she could be forced into isolation with than Beca Mitchell.

Like, of roughly 8 billion people on the planet, she has the best one to be quarantined with.

It helps that Amy was already shacking up with someone before the Mayor sent down his shelter in place orders. They have the apartment to themselves for the foreseeable future.

At this news, Beca had announced she would be taking over Amy’s bed for a week, and then it would be Chloe’s turn, so she and Chloe wouldn’t have to continue sharing the small, mostly uncomfortable pull-out sofa they’ve been living on for the past year. 

However, when it came time to go to bed, Chloe bit her tongue as Beca rolled her eyes and climbed into the shared bed, same as always.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Chloe watches her in her peripheral vision while they unwind from a day of doing nothing. Beca’s on her phone with only one of her AirPods in, the one on her right side, opposite Chloe. She can hear the tinny, empty sound of the music she’s listening to escaping that one earbud and it’s an odd comfort. Some version of normalcy in the world that’s been turned upside-down recently.

She reads until her eyelids grow too heavy. When she sets aside her book, Beca puts her phone away and they turn in for the night, together, like always.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

They’re on Day 13 when Chloe’s getting antsy. Not antsy from being home, though; they get outside often enough for fresh air. It’s quickly become her favorite thing to grab Beca’s hand and pull her out the door to go for a walk on the least populated streets they can find. Social distancing has only given Chloe more excuses to be closer to Beca than usual by using basic excuses such as, “I’m starved for physical interaction, Bec!”

But all the daily walks can’t quell a different kind of starvation.

Beca not going to work and Chloe never having privacy has resulted in little to no opportunities for Chloe to tend to her personal sexual needs.

And it’s not that she’s insatiable. She considers herself to have a normal, healthy libido and an active sex life. But her hormonal cycle is starting to kick into overdrive and it’s becoming difficult to ignore. She also has precious little to distract herself with, forcing her to fixate on her unexpected and involuntary celibacy.

She does sneak one quick personal session in while Beca showers a few feet away behind nothing but a patterned curtain. The riskiness amps up the hotness of it, as does the fact that she can so easily picture Beca nude and showering, but it’s quick and does little to satisfy her. In fact, it only makes it worse, to the point that she’s beginning to feel drunk with horniness.

It’s a shitty state to be in when you live with your best friend in an apartment with zero privacy.

Which is why she’s not surprised when the question falls from her foggy brain to her lips when they’re in bed doing their nightly domestic routine of reading together quietly after she’s stared at the same page of her book for 15 minutes.

“What’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done?”

She sees Beca’s face turn toward her. “Dude, what?”

“Like, in bed,” she says with a casual shrug. She keeps her eyes on her book as one does with any casual conversation. “You know, sex.”

“Yeah, I know, what kinky means,” Beca says with a hint of amusement in her voice. “You’re asking me this why?”

She turns the page in her book. She has no idea what it says. “Why not?”

“Because that’s pretty personal?”

She shrugs again and tries to quell her thoughts but fails. She’s horny and in bed with the one person she’s been genuinely attracted to for as long as she can remember. She’s also had a lot of time to think about how she and Beca could be passing their down-time. For example, taking turns going down on each other. Or simultaneously.

“I let someone handcuff me once,” Beca says after a few beats of silence. She mutters it under her breath but it reaches Chloe’s ears loud and clear.

She aims to keep her voice conversational. “Did you like it?”

Beca clears her throat. “Yeah. It was...good, I guess. What about you?”

Chloe doesn’t expect Beca to volley it back to her but is pleasantly surprised. “Ooh, yeah. I like being tied up.” She closes her book to glance at Beca who is staring intently at the screen of her phone, though her thumb isn’t scrolling through anything. “But I like to be the one doing the tying.”

Beca’s swallow is audible. “Cool.”

It makes Chloe chuckle. “Yeah. Cool.” She glances again and she can tell Beca’s blushing, the tiniest hint of pink coloring her cheeks and tips of her ears. “You know what I’ve always wanted to try?”

“No, but I bet you’re going to tell me.”

“Spanking.”

“Oh, my God,” Beca says, sounding thoroughly mortified. Not that that fazes Chloe at all.

“I mean, I’ve done it, but not like, really, done it, you know? Not like bent over a knee, counting them off kind of spanking.”

Beca seems to shrink in on herself. “Wow, yeah. I got it.”

“Oh, come on,” she says, amused by Beca’s bashfulness. She knows it’s mostly false; she’s seen Beca when she gets out of her head. Hell, she’s seen Beca have sex with a woman in a bar (not that Beca knows that; they were clearly trying to be discreet but they weren’t even in a booth; it was literally on a barstool with Beca’s hand under the woman’s skirt. Chloe remembers it clearly and thinks about it often.). She moves her foot over to kick at Beca’s. “I’m bored. Tell me something you want to try. Have you been spanked?”

Beca laughs and whips her head around to look at Chloe again. She’s smiling, but it’s one of her bright, biting, sarcastic smiles. “I am not drunk enough for this. Or, like, at all.”

“Just tell me,” she whines, putting on her famed puppy-dog eyes that she knows Beca can never say ‘no’ to. “Or maybe you’re the one who did the spanking,” she adds thoughtfully and watches as Beca drops her phone and covers her face with both hands with a groan. “No, you totally are the one who’d get spanked.”

“Fine,” Beca grits out and Chloe almost hops out of bed in excitement. “Just...turn off the fucking lights I am not sitting here talking about this like we’re meal planning for the week.”

“Done,” Chloe says, twisting around to turn off her bedside lamp while Beca does the same. She knew she’d be able to crack Beca; it never takes much.

“I’m going on record that I’m only having this conversation out of sheer boredom.”

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” Chloe says in her best Law & Order voice as she flips onto her side to face Beca.

“No, none of that,” Beca says swirling her finger at Chloe. “Eyes on the ceiling.”

“Fine,” Chloe sighs and rolls to her back to get comfortable and feels Beca doing the same. “Well?” she prompts after a few seconds of stillness and silence.

“Well, what?”

“Don’t act like you forgot. Answer the question.”

“Oh, my God.” Beca sounds exasperated. “Yes, okay?”

Chloe hadn’t expected that or the welcomed visions that accompany it. “Did you like it?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, “Yeah.” Chloe can tell she’s rolling her eyes with the answer.

“Blindfolds?”

“They’re fine.”

The hesitancy is shorter that time, which surprises Chloe. She wonders if it’s because it was a vanilla question or if Beca’s accepting the line of questioning and resigning herself to it. Or if Beca just didn’t have to think about it. “Role-play?”

“...What kind of role-play?”

The tone of Beca’s voice holds curiosity, and that curiosity makes Chloe’s heart skip a beat. “You tell me.”

Extended silence follows and she hears Beca sniff, a nervous tick Chloe knows well, before she answers. “I don’t know, like...student/teacher.”

Her heart thumps again. “Who did you role-play student/teacher with?”

Beca’s voice is direct. “We’re talking about what we’ve done, not who we did it with.”

“Okay, okay. Were you the student or the teacher?” She smiles, letting the images of Beca in a Catholic school girl uniform fill her brain. “You were totally the student.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, making Chloe laugh. “Why am I the one confessing everything?”

Chloe has already confessed a few things but she doesn’t argue. She’d rather keep talking about dirty things with Beca in the dark, in bed, right next to her. “I had a four-way once.”

She sees Beca’s head snap to the left to stare at her, breaking Beca’s own rule. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” she laughs.

She feels Beca’s eyes on her but doesn’t give in to the temptation to turn and look and Beca goes back to staring at the ceiling. “And it was all girls,” she decides to clarify. “I thought it would be complicated but we were just, like, in a circle head to toe. Well, more like mouth to—”

Beca interrupts her. “I get it.” 

She decides to embellish. “It was really hot. Like, one girl moaning? Hot. But three? At the same time? I came so—”

“Holy shit, I said I got it,” Beca interrupts again, sounding a bit winded. 

Chloe laughs and tries not to think about the fact that she knows her panties are growing wetter the longer this conversation goes on. “Okay, okay. Your turn.”

“Just give me a minute,” Beca grumbles.

Chloe keeps her thoughts to herself to let Beca think. Thoughts of what Beca might sound like when she moans. Of how hard she could make Beca come. Of what she tastes— 

“I had sex on the desk once.”

Chloe gasps; it’s her turn to snap her head to the right to stare at Beca’s profile in the darkness. “The no-sex-on-the-desk desk?!”

“Yeah,” Beca laughs. “It was bad, too. I just wanted to do it because I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Always the little rebel,” Chloe teases and she watches Beca roll her eyes and smile. “My turn to confess something.”

“Oh God, I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“I saw you fingering that blonde girl at the bar a few weeks ago.” She hadn’t meant to confess that, but there it was.

Beca turns to meet her eyes. “You did not!”

“I totally did,” Chloe laughs. “She was pretty. And came, like, super-fast. I’m impressed.”

“Wait, that she was pretty or that she came fast?”

“No, no,” she clarifies. “Of course you can get the pretty girls. I wasn’t surprised by that.”

“Just that I’m good at fucking them?”

Chloe wonders what her face looks like right now; probably all kinds of entertained and shocked. “No, I was impressed that you did it right there where everybody could see you.”

“Well, I mean, it wasn’t that obvious.”

“It was totes obvious,” she whispers. “But it was really hot.” She hadn’t meant to confess that either, but…

She sees the corner of Beca’s mouth twitch like she’s trying not to react. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” she replies as she decides it’s finally safe to turn onto her side rather than crane her neck to see Beca while they talk. “I could tell you really wanted her to feel good.”

“I mean, yeah,” Beca says, starting to smile like she’s proud until her mind catches up with the conversation. “Oh, my God you saw me having sex. We are not talking about that anymore.” She turns to stare at the ceiling once more. “I’ve never seen you have sex.”

It’s hard to separate what is amusement and what is arousal now, but there are ample amounts of both flowing through Chloe’s system. “That could be arranged.”

Beca’s eyes close and Chloe can tell she’s clenching her jaw even in the darkness. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” Chloe says thoughtfully. “But I did. I like being watched.”

She watches Beca swallow; it feels abnormally slow. “Voyeurism, huh?” 

“Mhm.” Something feels different suddenly, like when the air grows still and humid before a thunderstorm.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Beca adds. She sounds kind of breathless and Chloe can’t help but wonder if this conversation is turning Beca on the say way it’s turning her on. “You like to...perform.”

“Yes, I do.” She watches Beca for a few seconds; she seems fidgety. “What’s your favorite position?”

“I am not answering that,” Beca says, her most Beca-like laugh of awkwardness leaping out with the words.

“Oh, please. Who cares. I’ll tell you mine.” The level of need Chloe has to know the answer is not one she should have for her friend. But she can’t unpack that right now.

“You first.”

Chloe pushes back. “No, you first. It was my question.” 

She watches Beca pull a hand out from under their shared blankets to squeeze the bridge of her nose between her fingers. She says something but it’s unclear.

“What?”

Beca repeats herself but Chloe can only make out that it ends with the letter ‘d.’

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t hear—”

“From behind! I like it from behind, okay?” Beca literally shouts it before covering her face with both hands again. “Oh, my God, I want to die.”

The confession absolutely floors Chloe and she doesn’t stop herself from reaching over to pull one of Beca’s hands away from her face. “That’s really hot,” she says, words measured to not make Beca think she’s mocking her. It’s difficult, though; she’s so physically affected by Beca’s blurted answer that she feels lightheaded. Images swirl through her mind again like butterflies of Beca on her hands and knees looking over her shoulder as Chloe— 

“You said you’d answer it, too,” Beca says, voice tight with embarrassment and anxiety. “Hurry up and put me out of my misery.”

“Oh, right,” she says once she remembers to breathe. She’s sure her palm is sweating where it’s still resting against Beca’s arm. “I really like it when the girl is on my lap riding me. Fingers, strap, whatever.”

“That’s nice,” Beca says, voice breaking into some kind of a stressed squeak, her one free hand turning to cover both her eyes.

“And I like my hair being pulled.”

“I didn’t ask about that.”

Chloe shrugs but she doubts Beca can see it, still hiding her eyes the way she is. “You know, both of us being home every day, I haven’t been able to touch myself in a long time.” She’s starting to operate on adrenaline and arousal which is often a dangerous combination.

Beca mutters, “Oh, my God,” for the dozenth time of this conversation. “Do you need me to go stand in the hall? I can give you privacy.”

“Remember how I said I like being watched?” She bites her lip and watches Beca’s reaction.

It’s a full-body one. She squirms until she’s pulled her captive arm away from Chloe so she can drag the covers up and over her head. “Why are you like this?”

“Where are you going?” Chloe laughs as she tugs on the blanket. “You want a front-row seat?”

Beca whips the blanket off her face, wispy hairs floating for a few seconds from static electricity to stare at her. “Dude.”

“Dude,” Chloe parrots, grinning at her. “It’s just me. When is the last time you did it?”

“I cannot believe we’re having this conversation,” Beca says to herself. “I don’t know. Like, the other day, I guess.”

Chloe’s tickled by her honesty. “And where was I?”

“You went to get the mail,” Beca groans, though she doesn’t try to hide her face again. She just avoids eye contact instead.

“It takes, like, two minutes to run downstairs and back.” She just smiles wider. “So quick.”

“Dude, shut up!” Beca says with exasperation. “You literally just said we’re both always here it’s not like I get to do it as often as I’d like.”

Chloe hears her teeth click when she slams her jaw closed for once again revealing more than she had intended, though it’s exactly the kind of revelation Chloe was hoping for. “You know…” she starts.

“What is that tone? What is your voice doing?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Chloe says as she turns to her back to once again lay side by side with Beca. “But if we’re both wound up because we’re never alone to...relieve ourselves—”

“‘Relieve ourselves’ sounds like you mean peeing.”

“Wait, Beca, are you into golden showers?” she teases, just to watch Beca hit the roof again.

Instead, she’s met with nothing but a long, irritated exhale. “You were saying?” Beca surprisingly asks.

“Oh, right. We’re really good friends, right? And we have to share this place for however long. And we have needs. Well, I know I have needs—”

“I have needs,” Beca interjects. It makes Chloe’s eyebrows lift with much interest.

“We have needs. I know talking about all this stuff tonight got me all riled up—”

“It did?”

Chloe chances a glance at Beca, but her eyes are tightly closed. “Yeah,” she answers. “What about you?”

There’s a long pause, and then, “Yeah, I guess.”

It makes Chloe’s heart want to hammer right out of her chest. Beca’s admitting she’s turned on. Right now. In bed. With Chloe. “Then if you’re okay with it, maybe we just agree to…” She has to stop and wet her lips; she’s irritatingly nervous and she only gets nervous like this before a performance. (Well…) “Do you want to touch yourself?”

The painfully extended silence is very telling.

“Because I really want to touch myself right now,” she continues when Beca doesn’t answer. “Would that be okay?” 

Beca finally speaks. “How is that not weird?”

“Who says it’s weird?”

“I don’t know. People.”

“We’re the only people who will know. I don’t think it’s weird. I think it’s kind of sexy.” She leaves it at that. She can’t push it further; she’s on thin ice as it is. All she can do is wait and try to ignore the ache between her legs.

“Just...don’t look at me,” Beca huffs and Chloe sees her pointedly turn her face toward the wall.

“Deal,” Chloe says, basically squealing as she does as requested and turns away while she closes her eyes.

Her heart is beating so hard she barely hears Beca’s voice over it. “So, are we just, like, doing this? Or…?”

“Do you need me to say 3-2-1-go?”

Beca just sighs and Chloe giggles, but chooses to let her giggle turn into a sigh of her own as she slips her hand down the front of her pajama shorts.

How wet she is comes as no surprise to her, but her sensitivity is unexpected and a whimper she didn’t quite mean to release escapes.

“Oh, my God you’re really doing it,” Beca says next to her and Chloe feels her shifting around but keeps her eyes closed.

She can’t get a read on Beca’s tone; it sounds more surprised than anything, but it’s laced with something else. She strains her hearing to listen to Beca, to listen for any movement or a change in her breathing or any sign whatsoever that Chloe is not doing this alone.

She’d be okay if she was, though. It is extraordinarily hot that Beca agreed to it at all, that she decided to be okay to be present and inches away while Chloe touches herself and the wetness beneath her fingers is confirmation of that.

It’s easy to begin to lose herself in it, though Beca’s proximity remains at the forefront of her mind. She’s touch-starved and needy and it feels so good to finally be able to let her hands wander, to let her fingers stroke over and around her clit while her other hand pushes under her pajama top to tease a stiff nipple. To let herself moan and not worry about getting caught.

Every nerve in her body comes alive when she hears Beca’s breath hitch just the tiniest bit. 

She’s filled with a new kind of ache: to make Beca talk about what she might be doing on her side of the bed. It’s too soon for Beca, though. Chloe knows her well enough that everything Beca does has to be worked through in stages until she finds her comfort with it or abandons it altogether.

Instead, Chloe tries to offer encouragement through an embellished moan, but she doesn’t have to fake the pleasure. The very possibility that Beca is touching herself next to her is almost enough to bring on her climax and she has to grit her teeth for a moment or two and still her fingers to let the sudden rush of arousal subside. While she waits, she holds her breath and listens for Beca, for any confirmation that she really is touching herself. She can hear her breathing and it’s almost too even and slow, a little too nasal for it to be natural.

“You don’t have to be quiet,” she chances to say. 

“It’s not like you’re being loud.”

Chloe smiles to herself. “Is that a challenge?”

“No.”

“But does that mean you’re doing it?”

There’s another pause, and then, “Maybe.”

She can’t help the groan that comes with Beca’s admission. 

“You don’t have to sound like porn,” Beca says, actual amusement in her tone.

“Can’t help it,” Chloe says with a smile in her voice, too, as her head tips back and her fingers slip lower to tease her entrance. “This is super hot.”

She hears Beca kind of hum and Chloe thinks she’s doing it to agree or disagree but the hum breaks into a stilted, very brief moan.

“Oh, yeah, you’re doing it,” Chloe breathes, starting to throw what little caution she still has to the wind.

Beca’s only response is a stubborn kind of grunt that tells Chloe she should probably stop commenting on Beca’s actions. So she does and instead lets Beca know what she’s feeling, sighing and whimpering when she tugs on her own nipple, whining when she teases herself by not slipping inside yet.

Beca was right, earlier. Chloe does like performing, especially for Beca. Especially with her voice, but her body is an instrument in this as well, and she lets her hips start rocking up into her hand. She knows Beca will be able to feel it; they can’t so much as blink without it being felt by the other in their rickety bed.

She doesn’t expect Beca’s reaction to be so immediate, or so vocal, but it’s there: a light, airy, unrestrained moan.

She wonders what Beca’s doing. If her fingers are between her legs, inside or outside her pajama pants, if her hands are on her breasts or stomach or thighs. She wonders what Beca likes, how Beca likes to be worked up, to be touched, how she likes to touch herself. If it’s hard and fast or soft and slow. She knows Beca has a vibrator; Chloe found it once by accident when she was looking for a spare cord to charge her phone after forgetting hers at the office. She wants to know how she uses it.

She wants to know what Beca sounds like when she’s being taken from behind, how her back would be sweating when Chloe would drag her nails down it as she— 

A whispered curse slices through her thoughts and on instinct she turns her head to look.

She wishes she hadn’t; she wishes she’d prepared herself for what Beca would look like, eyes closed and lips parted as her head tips back further into her pillow. As her chest rises and falls with her quickened breathing. As the covers over her midsection move with subtle but distinct rhythm. She wasn’t supposed to look. She promised Beca she wouldn’t. But she did and she can’t help the moan that escapes at the sight.

She doesn’t expect Beca to do what she just did until they’re suddenly looking at each other. She readies herself for the moment to fall apart.

“You weren’t supposed to look at me,” Beca says instead, and, breathtakingly, it is clear she hasn’t stopped what she was doing.

“Oops,” Chloe breathes, stilling her fingers and hips for a moment to step her orgasm back again.

“This is hot.”

Chloe almost moans again. “So hot.”

“No, I mean…” Beca uses her free hand, the one not apparently between her legs, to push at the quilt that’s covering them both. “This is hot. Can it go away?”

Chloe has to close her eyes for a second before she nods. At least she has a warning this time, to be able to mentally prepare herself for what she’ll see when they both work together to push down and kick away the blanket until it’s in a crumpled heap at their feet. She whimpers when her eyes reopen because Beca’s right hand is down the front of her pants. Her shirt has ridden up—or was pushed up—past her navel and Chloe’s filled with the desire to kiss the soft skin there. She knows her own is displaced as well and doesn’t bother to fix it.

“Yeah, this is hot, too,” Beca says with a laugh that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is when it sounds so shy. Her eyes are closed again but they reopen after a few seconds, and she’s still facing Chloe.

Chloe can’t help but smile. “So hot,” she repeats.

Beca’s eyelashes flutter a few times before they close again. “This is…”

“Hot?” Chloe finishes.

She watches Beca’s lips tug into a small smile. “I’m not...I can’t…” She huffs instead of finishing her thought and Chloe connects the dots.

“Oh. Oh. Do you want me to put headphones on or something? Or I can move to the floor—”

A hand landing on her forearm, the one that is connected to the hand down her shorts, stops her. “No. Just...”

Chloe’s heart feels like it’s in her stomach. Physical contact wasn’t part of the deal and Beca just initiated it. “Just?” she says, hearing how tight her voice sounds. Her wrist also flexes as her hips tilt, need starting to overtake her again.

She watches Beca’s hips roll, too, as a moan escapes her. “Do that again.”

Beca wants to feel her moving.

“Like this?” she asks as she resumes her pace, her fingers sliding up and down as her hips lift and fall.

Beca licks her lips and nods. 

“God,” Chloe breathes as she watches Beca match her pace until they’re moving in sync. She wants to reach over and touch Beca. She wants Beca’s hand to follow her arm down until it’s her fingers playing with Chloe’s clit. She wants to watch as Beca starts to relax, the tension in her shoulders lessening even as her hand tightens around Chloe’s arm. 

Another quiet moan escapes Beca and Chloe echoes it. She allows her hips to speed up as she pushes her hand further down, down until she’s slipping a finger inside herself. It drags Beca’s hand down, too, and Chloe’s breath catches when she sees that Beca’s fingertips are actually beneath the elastic of Chloe’s shorts where she’s holding on to her arm.

Beca’s eyebrows knit like she’s thinking and a sudden, loud moan almost startles Chloe. She’s maybe realized what Chloe is doing and Chloe is more than okay with that. She moves in and out of herself slowly, exaggerating it for Beca’s benefit though the way it feels needs no theatrics. She’s letting every moan and whimper spill out that needs to because with each one she sees Beca’s hips cant upward sharply.

She wants Beca to look at her, to see what she’s doing to Chloe in the way Chloe can see what she’s doing to Beca, even in the darkness. How her cheeks are flushed and how her tongue flits over her lips and how...God, and how her nipples are so visibly hard beneath the thin material of her T-shirt.

Chloe wants to come. She wants to come so badly it hurts. For all her bravado in proposing this, she doesn’t know how that should play out. If she should bite her tongue and come quietly and modestly. If she should let her hips buck and her voice do what it wants.

She doesn’t get a choice in the matter as Beca’s eyes open and meet hers.

It sets Chloe off like lightning striking.

She comes before she finishes figuring out how to handle it so her climax is uncensored and full-volume. Unbridled and wild as her hips buck and Beca’s blunt fingernails dig into the soft underside of her arm. Her body throbs and she manages to open her eyes, just for a moment, and finds Beca watching her and wearing a look of absolute desperation.

Beca’s release seems to hit her as unexpectedly as Chloe’s and she watches in awe as Beca comes, eyes slamming closed as her body tenses. Her moans are muffled by the way she’s clenching her jaw, like she’s trying to be quiet. Then her body’s curling in on itself, knees drawing toward her chest as she breathes hard until it passes and her legs fall back to the bed.

The whole event nearly makes Chloe again but she’s too caught up in watching it to think to twitch her fingers. Instead, she watches Beca try to catch her breath. Her hand is still wrapped around Chloe’s forearm but it’s no longer clutching it. Beca seems to remember it’s there and loosens her grip as though to pull away but she just ends up dragging it higher a few inches before stopping again.

She watches the muscle in Beca’s jaw twitch a few times before she’s wetting her lips and swallowing. “Um…”

“Wow, Beca,” Chloe says as soon as Beca’s broken the moment.

“Just…” Beca finally, sadly, removes her hand from Chloe’s arm and uses it to hold her finger in the air to ask for a moment. Chloe’s hyper-aware that her other hand is still in her pants, as is her own, and she struggles to keep from staring even though Beca’s eyes are closed. “Gimme a minute.”

Chloe bites her lip and smiles, content to watch Beca return to herself. Chloe does slip her hand out of her shorts to rest wet fingers against her bare stomach

Finally, Beca opens her eyes and keeps them fixed firmly on the ceiling. “What did you mean by ‘wow’?” she asks.

Chloe smiles so big she knows Beca can see it out the corner of her eye. “You are so freaking hot,” she says with earnest.

“Oh, my God, I am not,” Beca huffs and Chloe watches her try to bring her hands to cover her face, including the one she’s just dragged out of her pants, only to stop short.

Chloe tries not to notice that she can see them glistening in the faint ambient light and instead giggles as she twists to grab a tissue from the box next to the bed to pass to her.

She just huffs again and though it’s too dark to measure levels of blushing, Chloe’s sure whatever flush she’s wearing just deepened as she snaps it out of Chloe’s hand to wipe at her hand until she’s crumpling it and tossing it to the floor.

“So totally hot,” Chloe edges once Beca doesn’t seem ready to blow her top with embarrassment.

“Chloe,” she groans with a roll of her eyes that finally lands them back on Chloe for the first time since her climax. “Don’t make this weird.”

“I’m not!” she laughs. “I came so hard watching you.”

“You weren’t supposed to look at me!” Beca screeches as she half-sits up until she’s turning onto her side and laying back down. Facing Chloe.

“Yeah, well, you were looking at me,” Chloe shrugs as she wiggles onto her side, too. “You totally got off on me watching you.”

Beca’s eyes go wide and she puffs her cheeks out in exasperation.

“And I thought I was the one into voyeurism,” she continues teasing. “Learn something new about yourself?”

Beca’s exhale is loud but brief. “Whatever.” She points at Chloe, narrowing her eyes. “We don’t talk about this.”

Chloe’s heart sinks, just a little. It had been fun to live in her fantasy if only for a few minutes. “Ever?” She knows she sounds sad and she’s not trying to manipulate Beca. “I mean, this thing is going to last another month at least,” she amends. “You aren’t going to want to do it again?”

“Right now?” Beca blurts.

“I didn’t mean right now,” Chloe smiles, though suddenly her body warms.

“Oh.”

“Unless you want to?”

“Well...a month is a long time,” Beca finally answers, a bit begrudgingly. “I’m good for now, though.”

Chloe feels her heart soar and has to stop herself from moving to tackle Beca. Any other night and she would do it without thinking. Tonight, though, it’s different. “So you admit it was hot,” she says, grinning.

Beca presses her lips together for a few seconds until she rolls her eyes again. “Fine, it was hot.”

“Told you,” Chloe smiles and she watches Beca start to smile, too, before it fades to something else. Something Chloe can’t label, but it’s there as Beca quietly looks at her. Something about it makes her heart start to race.

It feels a lot like Beca might be thinking about kissing her.

Chloe wets her lips automatically, the possibility already making her breath speed up, until Beca breaks eye contact and starts to move until she’s turned onto her right side, back to Chloe, the way she always sleeps.

Chloe uses it as an invitation to move in behind her, like always, to fit herself along Beca’s back and slip an arm around her waist. Beca’s body is warmer than usual and Chloe can’t help but tip her face closer to breathe her in and find comfort in the familiarity. She lets her closeness bring her lips to the shell of Beca’s ear, which she kisses lightly.

“Sleep well,” she says as she rests her head on the pillow they’re sharing.

“Pretty sure I will now,” Beca replies, her tone playfully wry.

It makes Chloe squeeze her around her middle and give her a jostle. “You’re welcome,” she teases.

Beca hums and pokes her butt backward to bump into Chloe. “You, too. G’night.”

Chloe knows she shouldn’t, but she can’t help herself. It’s too perfect. She pops her hips forward right into her ass. “So you like it from behind, huh?”

The only thing that keeps Beca from running out the door is Chloe’s hold on her waist as Chloe laughs until tears prick her eyes as Beca cusses her out with the most colorful language she knows until she finally gives up and goes limp.

“I hate you,” Beca says after a few seconds of breathing hard from trying to escape.

“Love you, too,” Chloe sing-songs as she presses a kiss to Beca’s shoulder. “Go to sleep.”

She hears Beca muttering something under her breath that sounds a lot like, “Whatever,” and she can’t help but smile as she closes her eyes, Beca in her arms.

The End (maybe...?) (it’s not)

[whumphoarder]

Beanimia

Summary: While Peter is visiting Tony and Morgan at the lake house for a long weekend, the six-year-old manages to accidentally break his nose. Unfortunately, Spider-Man's super-healing decides to go on holiday the same weekend that he does.

Word count: 3,877

Genre: Fluffy illness/injury, whump, hurt/comfort, humor

A/N: Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx and @sallyidss for beta-reading and to @awesomesockes for plot, summary, and title ideas <3

Link to read on Ao3

“So”—Tony snaps the single use ice pack to activate the chemicals and gives it a few shakes as he moves back over to the kitchen table—“which one of you is going to explain what happened here?”

Morgan shakes her head gravely side to side. “Peter didn’t catch the beans...”

“Well, to be fair,” Peter points out, his voice significantly more nasally than usual due to the wad of paper towels he’s pressing to his heavily bleeding nose, “you didn’t really warn me you were about to chuck a can of beans at my head.”

“But I did!” the six-year-old defends. “I said, ‘I’ll throw down the supplies.’”

“Supplies for what?” Tony questions. He passes Peter the ice pack, earning a grunt of thanks.

“For the mission,” Morgan explains as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We were playing superheroes and we needed to pack the supplies to take with us ‘cus we had to go fight the bad guys in space.”

“She’d been stockpiling stuff for the last couple days in the treehouse,” Peter goes on, “so she was just tossing everything down for me to put in the bag. Which, y’know, was fine for the stuffed animals and the walkie-talkies and the plastic lightsabers”—he gingerly touches the ice to his nose—“just not for a sixteen-ounce can of refried pintos.”

(Tony winces in sympathy.)

Morgan lets out an exasperated exhale. “Well, we had to bring something to eat—it’s a long way to Pluto.”  

Huffing out a laugh, Tony shakes his head slowly. “I guess it’s hardly Peter’s first experience getting injured before a mission officially even begins...” he muses. He grins at the teenager. “Remember when you tripped off the quinjet ramp and sprained your ankle two minutes after we landed?”

Peter rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed. “That was one time, Mr. Stark.”

“Memorable though,” Tony quips. He gestures to the kid’s messy face and sighs. “Alright, let’s see the damage.”

Reluctantly, Peter pulls the paper towels away and fresh blood starts to trickle down. There’s a cut at the bridge of his nose and it’s rapidly swelling, a dark bruise already starting to form under his eye.

Tony prods carefully at the break, making Peter wince. “Well, it’s definitely broken,” he reports after a moment, “but it seems pretty well-aligned at least. Nothing to reset.”

Peter lets out a short, breathy laugh. “Probably because it was already a little crooked from the last time I broke it. Guess she knocked it back.”

“So… I made it better?” Morgan asks hopefully.

Tony turns in his daughter’s direction. “Oh no, don’t you start thinking you’re off the hook here, Little Miss Budding Plastic Surgeon,” he says, holding up a stern finger. “You still need to be more careful where you’re chucking your beans.”

Peter snorts, then instantly seems to regret that as he groans and adjusts the ice pack on his face.

Morgan’s expression sobers and she drops her gaze down to her feet. “I just thought he would catch it. He always catches stuff when I throw it to him…”

Her comment gives Tony pause. Now that he thinks about it, it’s not the first time since Peter arrived at the lake house for their long weekend that the kid has seemed rather sluggish and off his game. He’d dozed through most of the drive over on Friday afternoon and then slept in until almost noon the next day. Even now, he can see the dark circles under Peter’s eyes and the pallor to his cheeks that can’t be completely explained by his current blood loss.

“It’s okay, Mo,” Peter reassures her with a small smile. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. It’ll be all better by morning, okay?”

Morgan perks up at that, so Tony pushes aside the twinge of worry in his gut. After all, Peter’s been taking seventeen credit hours at MIT this semester, not to mention his Boston vigilante activities and the additional part-time lab assistant gig he’s picked up; that’s enough to make anyone run a little ragged.

“Why don’t you two just watch a movie or something?” Tony suggests. “Give Peter’s nose a little time to sort itself out.”

Morgan and Peter agree, so Tony rustles up some of Peter’s super-strength painkillers and sets the kids up in the living room with some weird movie that Morgan inexplicably loves about a talking parrot whose biggest goal in life is to see the sun rise over the Grand Canyon. Before they even hit the fifteen minute mark, from out of the corner of his eye, Tony sees the ice pack slide down Peter’s face as the boy drifts off.

X

The combination of pain pills and the usual post-injury recovery time knocks Peter out and he sleeps straight through the rest of the movie. He’s still a little groggy and disoriented when Tony wakes him for dinner, but years of mentoring a reckless teenage superhero have taught the man that this is all par for the course.

Given that the pork chops Pepper left for them to reheat (before heading to her sister’s house for the weekend) require a bit more chewing than Peter’s face is up for at the moment, Tony whips the kid up a smoothie to drink instead.

Peter peers warily into the glass Tony hands him, swirling the green contents around. “What’s in here?”

Tony shrugs. “Whatever I found in the fridge. Blueberries, yogurt, scoop of protein powder, a banana, some spinach…”

“Ew, why would you drink spinach?” Morgan interrupts, her nose wrinkling up in disgust. “That’s gross.”

“Says the girl who put mayonnaise on her graham crackers last week,” Tony points out.

“It was good!” she defends.

Peter takes a cautious sip of the drink. He looks contemplative for second, then must have decided that he approves of the flavor because he just shrugs and proceeds to down about half the glass in a few gulps.

Morgan makes a dramatic gagging noise. Tony rolls his eyes and flicks her arm playfully.

“It’s actually really good,” Peter admits, lowering the cup back down. “Been awhile since I’ve had real vegetables.”

“Ugh, lucky,” Morgan groans as Tony adds a few pieces of asparagus to the little girl’s plate. “They’re the worst. Except for artichokes—those are good.”

“You like artichokes?” Peter questions.

“Uh huh.” She grins. “And turnips!”

“Well, Gerald likes turnips,” Tony clarifies, “and Morgan likes feeding them to him.”

This comment inspires Morgan to launch into a long-winded explanation of all the things she’s ever seen Gerald eat—from grass, to broccoli stalks, to a weird-looking bug—and which of those were his favorites. Peter nods along to her rambling, but seems far less engaged than usual and doesn’t even react when she mentions Gerald’s favorite type of cookie is double stuffed Oreo.

(Tony, on the other hand, interrupts at that point with a stern lecture for the six-year-old on what she can and cannot feed the alpaca moving forward.)

Once dinner is over, they all migrate back to the living room. Morgan wants to play Uno, and Peter obliges for a while, but his overall lack of focus persists.

“Peeeterrrr,” Morgan whines for the third time, poking his arm to snap him out of his daze. “It’s your turn again. You gotta draw two.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Peter takes two cards from the deck and adds them to his hand before reaching up to rub tiredly at his temples.

Tony’s brow furrows. “Headache?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Peter admits. “It’s not bad, just like… there.”

“Hm.” Tony nods. Turning to Morgan he says, “What do you say we finish this game up tomorrow?” Morgan’s face screws up and she looks like she’s about to protest before he adds, “Pretty sure there are some fudge-pops left in the freezer. I won’t tell Mommy if you don’t.”

Morgan drops her cards with an excited whoop and jumps up to run to the kitchen.

Tony gets to his feet to follow her. He glances back at Peter, who has sunk into the cushions with a relieved sigh. “Fudge-pop?” he offers.

Peter makes a non-committal noise in his throat. “I dunno. Think I might just head to bed.”

Tony glances at his watch. It’s just shy of eight o’clock—even Morgan doesn’t usually go to bed for another half hour. He knows Peter’s healing always takes a lot out of him, but he’s seen the kid looking less drowsy and out of it after getting slammed into the airport tarmac in Germany and cracking three ribs than he does at the moment. “Think you might be coming down with something?” he asks.

Peter shrugs once more, prompting Tony to press his hand to the kid’s forehead. He definitely isn’t detecting a fever—if anything, Peter’s skin is a little cold.

“What’s not feeling good?” Tony clarifies. “Head? Stomach? Throat?”

Peter hesitates a second. “Just… just my head I guess.” He sighs. “I think I’m just tired. Haven’t really been sleeping that great lately,” he confesses.

Tony’s forehead creases in concern. “Kid, you know May and I talked to you about overloading yourself your first year at school.”

“No, I go to bed,” Peter clarifies, “I just don’t always, like, sleep.”

“Why?” Tony’s frown deepens. “Are you having nightmares, or…?”

“No…” Peter exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that. I just can’t always, like, settle down? I don’t know—it’s really not that bad,” he quickly backtracks. “I think I just need a good night’s sleep. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

(Like an idiot, Tony believes him.)

“Alright, well, sleep well kid,” he says as Peter shuffles off to the guest room.

X

“Okay, so... this is a little weird,” Peter says as he enters the kitchen the next morning.

Tony glances up and blinks at the sight of Peter’s very swollen and now darkly bruised nose and cheekbone. He sets down the bowl of waffle batter he’s been whisking and moves over to get a closer look.

“What the hell, kid?” Tony mutters under his breath, running his fingertips carefully over the still-clearly-broken bone. “You once healed from a compound fracture overnight.” He pauses a beat. “Of your femur.”

“Eh...” Peter shrugs tiredly. “Super-healing isn’t really a science, is it?”

“Well it’s certainly not an art,” Tony retorts. He gestures to the kid’s nose. “Unless this is your Black-and-Blue Period, Picasso.”

Peter groans, sinking down onto one of the kitchen chairs. “That was almost as painful as my face,” he complains.

It’s clear the kid meant it as a joke, but that admission does nothing to alleviate Tony’s concern. He finds Peter a fresh ice pack and doses him out another painkiller before resuming making breakfast.

Somehow even a second night of sleep doesn’t seem to have restored much of the kid’s energy. Peter sits hunched forward with one elbow on the table to hold the ice to his face and has his phone resting in his lap. He scrolls idly through it, looking like he might nod off any second.

After a few minutes, the backdoor to the kitchen swings open and Morgan re-enters with pieces of hay still stuck to her boots.

“I gave Gerald two turnips,” she announces. “And he hummed at me and then he tried to steal my hat but I got it back ‘cept for the fuzzy thing.” She points at the red knit hat on her head, which is missing a pom-pom.

Tony groans as he ladles more waffle batter onto the iron. “He didn’t swallow it, did he? Because if that vet has to come out here one more time, I swear—”

“Peter!” Morgan blurts, suddenly noticing the boy at the table. He startles and looks up from his lap as the six-year-old runs over to him. “Your face looks so bad!”

Tony clears his throat. “Uh, Morgan, we don’t—”

“So, so, so, so bad,” she emphasizes, as tears well up in her eyes. She throws her arms around his waist. “I’m really r-really sorry!” she cries. “I didn’t m-mean to hit you with the beans!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Mo,” Peter assures, wrapping her in his arms. “It’s gonna heal really soon, okay? I’m a spider, remember? I always heal fast.”

“But sp-spiders don...don’t heal fast!” Morgan sobs into his chest. “You can squish ‘em re-really easy and they d-die if it gets too c-cold or if they get sprayed with bug killing stuff, an-and…”

Peter glances up and shoots his mentor a look of utter helplessness.

In return, Tony shrugs his shoulders in an exaggerated fashion. “Don’t look at me, kid. I’ve been wondering the same thing since we met.”

Still holding the crying child, Peter rolls his eyes at him.

“Kidding, kidding...” Tony says under his breath. He abandons the waffle iron and heads over to gather the sobbing six-year-old up into his arms. “Morgan, sweetheart, listen to me,” he says as he rubs her back gently. “Peter isn’t really a spider, okay? He’s actually more of a mutant.”

(Morgan only cries harder at that.)

Peter huffs out a short laugh and leans back against the chair. “Doing great, Mr. Stark.”

“...And because he’s a mutant,” Tony plows right along, “his DNA is different from ours and that’s why he usually heals freaky fast,” he explains over her tears as she buries her face in his shoulder. “Except it’s just being a little slow today, so we’re gonna just let him rest and eat some good food and that should help fix him up, okay?”

She hiccups a few times. “So he ju...just needs some w-waffles?” she manages to get out.

That jogs Tony’s memory. He spins around to see that the iron is still very much on and the waffle is starting to burn, smoke wafting up around the edges. “Ah shit,” he mutters.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Peter says, pushing himself quickly up from his seat. But the moment he gets to his feet, he staggers sideways and grips the table, his face draining of color.

“Pete?” Tony goes to set the still-sniffling six-year-old back down, but before he’s able to get her feet on the floor, Peter’s knees give out.

Tony curses and shoots a hand out just a second too late as Peter crumples first to his knees and then to the ground, landing directly on his already-injured face.

Morgan’s eyes go wide. “Daddy!” she shrieks.

Tony plops her down abruptly. “Go unplug the waffle maker, okay?” he instructs her as he drops to his knees next to Peter. He figures the last thing they need to add to the chaos is a smoke alarm.

Eyes still locked on the scene before her, Morgan nods and runs over to the counter to unplug the device. Meanwhile, Tony rolls Peter over onto his back and instantly grimaces at the sight. Besides the deathly pallor, the kid’s broken nose is definitely crooked now and fresh blood is streaming down.

“Is he… dead?” Morgan asks, horrified.

“No, no, of course not...” Tony presses two fingers to the pulse point in the boy’s neck, relieved to feel a strong, albeit fast, beat. “He just fainted—he’ll be fine,” he says, shaking the unconscious boy’s shoulder. 

“He looks dead,” Morgan whispers, still staring.

“Yeah, but he’s not,” Tony says firmly. Not wanting the blood to run down Peter’s throat, he continues to roll the kid over until he’s on his side in a sort of modified recovery position. “Pete, c’mon, this isn’t a good look,” he mutters, tapping Peter’s cheek. “We’re all getting enough trauma therapy as it is…”

Finally, the kid’s eyelids start fluttering open. “There you go, that’s it,” Tony praises when Peter blinks up at him. “You back with us yet?”

Peter groans and lets his eyes close again. “Do I ‘ave to be?”

“Yes,” Tony says curtly. He starts shaking Peter’s shoulder again, though gentler now. “I need to know how I’m taking you to Bruce—car or ambulance?”

“Ugh… How ‘bout neither?” Peter mumbles. He lifts a hand up tiredly to wipe a bit of blood off his upper lip. “‘M alright. Just got a lil’ dizzy…”

“Nope.” Worry is quickly taking over Tony, though it comes out in the form of briskness. “You’ve got sixty seconds to get off the floor or I’m choosing for you,” he declares, already pulling out his phone.

Morgan’s voice comes out small and quavering. “Peter...?”

Ultimately, that sound is what it takes to make Peter move. With Tony’s support, he pushes himself up and sits there for a moment, blinking wearily as blood trickles down from his nose. Tony sends Morgan to fetch a box of tissues and a clean shirt for Peter, then loads them both into the car for a little field trip.

X

“Anemia?” Peter repeats, incredulous.

The kid is sitting on an exam table at the SHIELD Medical base, his recently-reset nose now splinted. Meanwhile, Morgan sits in the chair beside Tony, entertaining herself with a handful of wooden tongue depressors and a roll of medical tape.

Bruce adjusts his glasses as he scans the results from Peter’s blood panel on his tablet. “Yeah, that’s what the tests are showing. Basically, it means that your body isn’t getting enough iron to produce hemoglobin, so it can’t carry oxygen effectively. This results in fatigue, lightheadedness, insomnia, headaches, shortness of breath, and—apparently in your case—a reduced healing factor.”

“But how did I get anemia?” Peter balks. “I’m Spider-Man.”

“Well, there are a few possible causes,” Bruce explains, “but based on several nutrient deficiencies I’m seeing in your bloodwork, my best guess is from your diet.”

“Ah.” A look of understanding flickers across Peter’s face for a second. “Yeah, okay, that checks out...” he mumbles.

“Wait, how exactly does that ‘check out’?” Tony asks.

Peter shrugs. “Well, I just… haven’t been eating the best food lately.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Doesn’t MIT’s cafeteria serve a pretty decent spread?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Peter allows. He rubs a hand at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just haven’t been really… uh, going there?”

Tony blinks at him. “Why the hell not?”

“That’s Mommy’s word,” Morgan pipes up without looking up from the two wooden sticks she’s connecting together with tape.

“I just don’t have a lot of time between my classes and job and stuff, and the cafeteria is all the way across campus,” Peter explains. “So I mostly just eat my own food.”

“Which would be…?” Bruce asks.

Peter hesitates. “Ramen,” he says after a moment. “The chicken flavor one.”

“Hm, okay…” Bruce nods, jotting this down on his tablet. “Not really the most nutritious option, but definitely a college staple. What else?”

Dropping his gaze to his lap, Peter starts picking at a piece of fuzz on his sweatshirt. “Uh… sometimes I get the beef one?”

Tony blinks at him. “Beef ramen?”

“I tried the lime chili shrimp one once. Not a fan.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Tony blinks again. “Peter, I’m paying for you to have three square meals a day at that college—not three styrofoam cups of dehydrated noodles.”

“I also eat granola bars,” Peter says. “And bagels.” He starts ticking foods off on his fingers. “Microwave burritos, yogurt, uh.... those little frozen chicken taquito thingies? But like, only if my roommate isn’t using the freezer for his weird cult ritual stuff. That’s why I usually stick to the soup.”

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves out a sigh. “Jesus take the wheel…”

“Oh! I had an apple last week!” Peter throws in.

Bruce runs a hand through his own hair, exhaling a carefully measured breath. “Okay, Peter, you know that you have an enhanced metabolism, right? That means you need to eat significantly more food than the average person.”

“Right, and I do!” Peter nods. “I always make sure I get enough calories.”

“And that’s good,” Bruce says, “but you also need to make sure you’re getting enough nutrients. Calories are just a part of that. With your unusual physiology, it’s especially important that you’re getting all the required vitamins and minerals to support the rapid regeneration of your cells, and a diet of cup noodles and bagels—”

“And frozen burritos,” Peter interrupts.

“—is simply not nutritionally dense enough for you,” Bruce finishes. “Not by a long shot.”

There’s a beat.

“Oh.”

“What does ‘nu-tri-tion-al-ly dense’ mean?” Morgan asks. Her tongue depressor creation has folded over itself and vaguely resembles a collapsed bridge now.

“It means Peter needs to eat more vegetables,” Tony butts in. “Just like you and Gerald.”

She sticks out her tongue. “Gross.”

“Alright, we’re gonna start you on some iron supplements,” Bruce addresses Peter. “But it might take a couple weeks to get your levels back up enough to reverse the anemia. I’m also going to give you a list of foods high in iron—things like dark leafy greens, broccoli, dried fruit, nuts, red meat, kidney beans—”

“NO BEANS,” the other three all declare in unison.

X

After hauling the kids back to the lake house, Tony sets Peter and Morgan up on the couch with another movie (Pirates of the Caribbean this time) and heads to the kitchen to fix them all some lunch. Potatoes and turnips are both high in iron, so he cooks and mashes up a big potful with some milk, butter, and salt, figuring that would be easy to chew without hurting the kid’s face too much. He scoops some into a bowl for Peter and then whips up another green smoothie for him to drink, as well as sandwiches for himself and Morgan. Once everything is ready, he piles it all onto a tray and heads back.

As he approaches the living room, Tony can already hear Morgan’s voice floating towards him in the falsetto stage-whisper she always uses when she’s voicing make-believe characters.

“Help me! Help me!” she cries. “Oh no, I’m falling!”

Tony stops in the room’s threshold to watch. The movie is still playing in the background, but neither kid seems to be watching. Instead, Peter is lying on his back on the sofa with his eyes closed, giggling quietly while Morgan kneels on the floor in front of the cushions, dancing a single M&M around the edges of the boy’s open mouth.

Suddenly, she drops the candy into his mouth with a dramatic gasp. “Noooo… the king has fallen into the pit! The anemia monster got him!” she cries.

“The anemia monster?” Tony asks in amusement.

Peter’s eyes snap open. “Uh, we were just playing a game.”

Morgan turns back to look at her dad, grinning. “Chocolate is on the list Uncle Bruce gave him!” she says, waving the piece of paper in Tony’s direction.

“Pretty sure that says dark chocolate,” Tony says, eyes narrowing at them as he crosses the room. “Not leftover M&Ms from the Christmas stash.”

Morgan’s face falls. “Aw…”

Tony sets the tray of food down on the coffee table. “Don't worry, kids,” he says, passing Peter the kale and fruit-rich protein smoothie. “Iron Man to the rescue.”

X

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Morgan Stark, M.D.

Dad Level: 3000

Long Distance Dadding

X

[lunar-jimin]

i am my mother’s child, i’ll love you til my breathing stops                                     i’ll love you til you call the cops on me

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: smut, tiny little glimpse of fluff, a lot of angst, stalker!reader, ex!namjoon

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: penetrative sex, softdom!namjoon (kinda), sub!reader (also kinda), quickie in a bathroom, lots of feelings, generally sad ones, this is fairly depressing, reader is stalker, so there’s that, also she has drunk sex with a stranger, but she propositions him so

Summary: It was your obsession with your job that drove him away. It’s your obsession with him that drives you.

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The world outside your window was dyed in the murky blue of four in the morning. You didn’t notice. Your eyes were glued to the glaring screen in front of you, begging for your undivided attention. Instead of working like you should be, you’re creeping through your ex’s Instagram page, desperate to know every minute detail of his life after you. The couple staring back at you from the screen made your stomach twist itself into knots. You had known he would move on, find someone to love him better than you could, but you never thought this would happen in a million years.

Engaged? Really? They had only been dating for a year, only a year and a half since he had left you, but sure enough, the giant diamond on her ring finger spoke for itself. Jealousy tore through you. You knew you didn’t deserve his affection, but that hadn't stopped you from holding on to the small glimmer of hope that one day you would find a way to be together again.

Despite it all, you had long ago admitted to yourself that she was a much better match for him. Your mutual friends would often regale you with their complaints of how clingy they were, how much they loved each other. The pictures of them that filled your feed testified to this. She made sure the world knew how much she loved him. A twinge of regret sparked in you when you thought of your own Instagram page, bare of any images of the two of you. You were never one for shoving your relationship into other people’s faces.

Your eyes flicked from the post to the clock in the corner of your screen and you groaned inside at the prospect of getting only two hours of sleep. Turning back to your computer, you noticed the tired burn in your eyes and the lethargy that spread throughout your limbs. With the last bit of energy you could muster, you drug yourself out of your way-too-comfy computer chair and into your welcoming bed. You fell asleep before you made it under the covers, still in your jeans.

The next thing you knew, your alarm was blaring out some loud pop song you had picked a long time ago and never bothered to change, uncouthly interrupting your precious slumber. Sitting you, you already began to feel the consequences of too little sleep: today was going to be a long one. You silently swore to yourself that you were going to fix your sleep schedule, before managing to drag yourself out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom. The warm water from your shower did little to wake you up, but it did sooth your tense muscles. A half an hour later, you were at the bus stop, apple in hand, trying valiantly to keep your eyes open.

Your morning passed quietly. Somehow words appeared on your screen, despite the fact that you didn’t recall typing them. You had never been more grateful for your lunch break in all your life. You wearily made the slow trek to the cafe three blocks down from your office. All you could think of was the toasty panini and cup of coffee calling your name. The apple you had gulped down for breakfast wasn’t doing much for you anymore.

The cafe cheerily greeted you with the smell of espresso and a warmth that comforted your bones. You had been coming here since you began your career as a journalist for the newspaper. You swore they made the best sandwiches in this hemisphere, and the shy barista, Jungkook, never failed to make you smile with one of his cheeky stories from college.

You quickly ordered before taking your usual spot by the window. You had only been sitting for three minutes when your day went from bad to terrible. You blinked twice when you saw him. You were sure it was an illusion, your lack of sleep finally taking its toll on your mental health. You close your eyes and count to ten, praying that he would be gone when you opened them again.

There was now way it was coincidence that he was here. There was no way that he could possibly have come to the same cafe you had been a patron at for five years by accident. There was no way.

You froze in place. You internally debated if you should get his attention. A large part of you wanted to leave before he saw you, have Jungkook sneak you out the back, but a small part of you wanted to run to him, take him in your arms, and promise to love him right. Instead, you sat there like a deer in headlights, letting fate take its course.

You hated that he looked better than the last days of your relationship. He had found his style again and he had cut his hair. He looked healthier, and you knew from your midnight ventures on his Instagram account that he had started to workout. You didn’t want to admit it, but you knew deep down that the toxicity of your relationship had been detrimental to his well-being.

The guilt was eating you up, when he turned to look at you. If you were frozen before, you were solid ice now: muscles locked up, eyes open wide. You gulped slowly, praying to whatever god was out there to make you invisible. Unfortunately, the gods weren’t having it today, and he gave you a quick wave and a smile before turning back to the menu.

You prayed that would be the entirety of your interaction, but five minutes you looked up from the phone you were taking refuge in, to find him walking towards your table.

"Do you mind if I sit down?"

His voice was deeper than you recalled

"Uh, yeah, sure."

You looked out the window in a desperate attempt to avoid conversation and eye-contact.

"How are you?"

You managed to look up at him.

"I'm fine."

You hoped that he wouldn’t see through the lie. You hoped he wouldn’t see the dark circles under your eyes and realize you still weren’t getting enough. You hoped he wouldn’t see the stain on your shirt and realize that you still couldn’t find the time to do basic chores. You hoped that somehow, he wouldn’t realize that you were just as addicted to work as when he left you. That you were still failing at being a person.

"That's good."

You gave a small smile.

"How 'bout you?"

"Pretty good."

He grinned. You guessed he was thinking about his engagement but was hesitant to bring it up in your presence.

"Good."

You took a sip of your coffee and looked out the window again, uncomfortable down to the soles of your feet.

"I, uh, have some big news that, uh, I wanted to share with you."

Maybe not so hesitant, and not here by accident. You raised an eyebrow.

"I'm, uh, engaged."

The sheepishness that poured over his face was almost adorable.

"Oh."

You were silent for a moment.

"Congrats then."

Behind his eyes, there was a glimmer of disappointment, as if some suppressed sadistic part of him wanted you to be hurt. You were glad that you came off as unbothered, even though your heart ached every time you thought of that stupid engagement post.

"I love her."

He was desperate. You were surprised. Namjoon was never petty, yet here he was trying to make you jealous. Had you really hurt him so badly?

"I would hope so."

You looked back out the window.

"She's really amazing. She cooks for me and goes on trips and she’s even going to quit her job to take care of our kids."

It would have hurt, if the chauvinistic ideals behind it hadn’t made you roll your eyes. But the point was still there: she was actively loving him, taking care of him, showing him that she wanted a future with him. That stung.

"Okay."

He looked at the window, resigning to the fact that he wasn't going to get a rise out of you. He should've known. You had never been very expressive of your emotions.

"I would have married you."

That made you flinch. A spark of delight ignited in his eye. Asshole.

"Okay."

"I loved you."

"I know."

"Did you love me?"

"I don't know."

A lie. You had loved him to the moon and back. Hell, you still loved him. But you wanted to hurt him just a little bit for making you sit through this torture.

"Oh."

A blow to his ego. If he wanted to parry, he best have come prepared.

"Have a good day then."

"Okay."

With that he left, without even bothering to pick up his order.

Before you knew what you were doing, you followed him out the door. You weren’t sure what had come over you, but you knew you were no longer in control of your being. You followed him one block after another, making sure you were far enough behind him that he wouldn’t notice you. You weren’t sure what you were seeking. Closure perhaps.

Soon, you found yourself standing outside a familiar, red, brick building. During your relationship, Namjoon had moved in with you, but still rented his apartment. In the beginning, you had stayed the night a few times. The apartment was small, but the view was to die for. You missed it.

He was already inside, but you knew which window was his. You stared up at it for a couple minutes, before something snapped inside you and you realized what you were doing. You felt nauseous, but that was quickly forgotten when you noticed the time. Panic shot through you, as you began to run back to the office. You could only hope that your boss wouldn’t notice your extended lunch break.

At first, it was a rare occurrence. Ever so often you would find yourself standing in front of those red bricks staring up at that window. Nothing would ever happen. You would just stare, part of you hoping to catch a glimpse of him and another part of you dreading the idea of ever seeing him again.

As your addiction to your job continued to consume you, it became a more frequent occurrence. Once a month turned to twice and then to once a week. Your mental health slowly deteriorated, until you were at risk of losing it completely. Somewhere in that time, you managed to pull yourself enough to end up at a shitty dive bar in the heart of the city with the few friends you had managed to keep. You weren’t that close to them. You doubt they knew your middle name or your birthday, but they were company you didn’t get much of that these days.

The beginning of your evening was spent slowly downing alcohol and catching up about the dullness of each of your existences. You spat out lies, hiding the fact that all your life was anymore was work and stalking your ex. You put on a front. You had other friends. You had been on dates but nothing had worked out yet. You had started dieting and working out. Lies, lies, lies.

Somewhere around your third beer, the fragile illusion you had created for yourself, came crashing down. You were well aware that these girls were friends with Namjoon and that they had undoubtedly received an invitation to his wedding, but while they were relatively sober they had been kind enough not to remind you. Now, however, their blood-alcohol levels were through the roof and as a consequence, they began to discuss the details of the wedding.

At some point, someone asked you what you were going to wear to the event. You stared at her dumbly before she realized what a stupid question it was and turned back to whoever she was talking to. You hadn't received an invitation to the wedding but a small part of you was glad.  You didn’t really want the reminder, and you wouldn’t go anyway, you weren't that masochistic.

Okay, so that wasn’t entirely true. There was a part of you that did want to go. A part of you that daydreamed of standing up in front of the entire church and begging him not to marry her. Begging him to come home with you. Begging him to love you again. But it was a stupid fantasy, and not one you should indulge in.

Lisa, the only person there who you really gave two shits about, turned to you and began to talk about your job again. When you let it slip that you had ran into Namjoon at lunch awhile ago, she looked like a little kid on Christmas. With her filter gone, she began to pester you with questions. Then she lit up.

“I have an idea.”

You internally groaned. Lisa was famous for her drunk ideas and none of them were ever good.

“You should come with me to the wedding as my plus one.”

Your eyes went wide.

“Lisa, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. You can get all dressed up and make him see what he’s missin’.”

It did sound tempting.

“Okay.”

You didn’t sound very sure, but Lisa was too drunk to care. She squealed before giving you a quick side hug and turning to talk to someone else. As the gravity of the situation hit you, you found yourself longing to forget everything. You threw back two shots of tequila before marching out onto the dance floor.

It didn't take long for some random stranger to come grind up on you, but you were too drunk and upset to care. In fact, feeling someone touch your body again was somewhat soothing. It didn't take long for your lips to find his and it didn't take much for you to convince him to come home with you.

You barely noticed saying goodbye to you friends as he dragged you out the door and into the back of an uber. You barely remembered anything else until you woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and a strange man in your bed.

It was the first time you had really seen him, too inebriated the night before to really notice his features. You didn't want to admit how similar they were. It was the dimples that gave it away. Even drunk, you still seemed to have a type.

He was adorable, lying there, so unaware of the rest of the world. It reminded you of your first date with Namjoon. While he began the night full of energy, he ended it passed out with his head in your lap.

5 Years Ago

You met him through mutual friends. He asked you out at a party and you still remember the red tinge on his cheeks to this day. You had developed a crush and you were delighted to oblige him.

Namjoon was a very simple man, and you didn't expect much more out of your date. Just dinner and a movie. However, he obviously wanted to impress you when he drove out of the city and to a beautiful flower field overlooking it. Halfway into your picnic dinner, he sheepishly confessed to having no cooking skills and that his best friend Jin had prepared your dinner. But that didn't matter, because for what Namjoon lacked in the culinary arts, he made up for with his mind. Namjoon blew you away with the shear capacity of his brain. He was obviously a nervous talker, and so you sat in awe as he spilt facts about whatever subject you were talking about.

"How do you know so much?"

"I don't know that much."

You gave him a look.

He sighed.

"I don't know, I just do. I consume information and I never really forget it. Most people find it annoying. At least that's what Jin tells me."

"It's adorable."

You both blushed.

"Thanks."

He looked sheepishly at his lap.

"So are you."

"What?"

You looked up at him confused.

"You're adorable too."

You're cheeks blazed scarlet.

When you mustered the courage to look at him, he was staring at your lips. His eyes quickly flitted back to yours when he noticed you looking at him. He coughed uncomfortably.

You weren't sure what came over you, but you found yourself tentatively placing your hand on his thigh. You looked at him nervously, while trying to muster the confidence to close the gap between you.

Luckily, you didn't need to. One second you were staring at his lips, the next they were on yours. You were happy to find that they were just as soft and plush as they looked. He moved rhythmically, and you prayed to god that you were as good of a kisser as he was.

Then the rain started. It was just a drizzle at first, but by the time you had packed up the picnic, it had begun to pour. You dashed to the car, soaked to the bone. When Namjoon pulled up to your apartment building, you invited him in to dry off. While his clothes were in the dryer, you started a movie, some cheesy rom-com. You weren't even thirty minutes in, when Namjoon fell asleep in your lap while you played with his hair.

The memory faded and instead of Namjoon, you found the mystery man whose name you didn't know. You woke him gently, offered him some coffee- which he declined- before sending him on his way. You weren't trying to be rude, but the longer you looked at him, the longer you were reminded of Joon, and you only had a limited capacity for heartache.

This time you didn't even bother to change out of sweats and a t-shirt. You must have looked like a mess as you rode the bus to the red-brick building. You were smart enough to bring a coffee and a book so that you had something to occupy yourself, as you sat on the bench across the street. You didn’t even look at the window anymore, just being this close to him was enough to satisfy your weird urge.

You had been sitting for an hour before he appeared. He didn't even glance your way. Your nerves twittered, praying that he wouldn’t see you. You quickly stored your book and coffee in your tote, before following him down the streets.

He led you downtown. You were always jealous of how close his apartment was to the hub of the city. The cars whizzed by you as you followed him down a boulevard of shops. Your heart stopped as you watched him walk into the jewelers. It made sense: he was getting married, rings were involved, but somehow this made it more real. He was investing thousands of dollars in this woman. He was investing his life.

The fact that it was the jewelers that you had visited back when you thought you were going to get married only made it worse. Your heart began to beat faster. Was he going to give her your ring?

3 Years Ago

"Which one do you like?"

You looked over the case carefully inspecting each ring for flaws. After five minutes, you pointed at a sapphire and diamond ring near the back. It was relatively simple, but that’s what drew you to it.

He smiled.

"Well, someday, when you're Mrs. Kim, that ring will be around your finger."

You grinned and lifted up to meet his lips.

"I love you."

"I love you more, Joonie."

"I seriously doubt that."

You giggled and followed him out the door for lunch.

As soon as he came out of the shop, you rushed in. You went straight for the case that you knew had held your precious band. It took you a minute to spot it, but when you did, you felt relief flood your body. It was still there, he wasn't forsaking you for her.

As the relief washed over you, you began to connect to reality again. You realized what you were doing. With it came the nausea. Coming back to reality was always painful. You hadn't deemed yourself a stalker yet, even know though you knew you should. The self-hatred followed you home, up the stairs and through your apartment door.

You didn't mean to follow him. Somehow, the part of you that still loved him (which was a larger part of you than you cared to admit), had gained the ability to control your actions, while the logical part of you sat in the backseat screaming. The shame continued to throb inside you as you curled up on your couch. You knew you needed to stop but you didn't know how.

You didn't and as the months passed you found yourself following him whenever you had spare time. You were careful, staying a good distance behind him. If he had noticed you, he didn't let you know. He seemed blissfully unaware. The worst part was that as you followed him, you began to realize he was truly happy: something you hadn't witnessed since the early days of your relationship.

At some point, you started bringing your camera along. You weren't sure how the pictures of him ended up on your camera roll, and then pinned to your bedroom wall. You would lay in bed at night, touching yourself with one hand, while another tightly grasped a photo of him.

In the morning, you would be so sick with yourself, you would vomit in the toilet. Three months passed like this before his dreaded wedding day arrived. The sane part of you didn't want to go, but the creepy, deviant part of you had more control, and thus you found yourself in front of the mirror in a simple sundress.

Lisa had attempted to convince you to wear a skimpy number in order to make Namjoon jealous, but you knew that Namjoon always found you sexier when you looked innocent. You had often teased him about it. So you settled for a simple floral piece and some kitten pumps.

When you walked into the venue you felt another twinge of jealousy at the grandeur. The church was old and gorgeous and you felt like a sinner just by existing in it. You sat in the back. Your nerves kept you calm enough to decide you didn't need Namjoon knowing about your presence just yet.

You blacked out for most of the ceremony. It was only when Lisa waved her hand in front of you that you realized that instead of witnessing the union of 'man and wife', you were busy daydreaming about said 'man' taking you in front of the whole church.

You stared out the window of Lisa's care wistfully as she drove to the reception. When you started to tear up, she pulled over in a park parking lot.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

You almost pulled it over, but the slight quiver in your voice gave you away.

"Sis, if you don't wanna go, we don't have too. We can just head to my apartment, order Chinese food, binge Netflix, and do facemasks."

It sounded so, so tempting, but you know you needed to make it through it. You needed to prove to the part of yourself that was going insane, that you didn't need him anymore.

You thought back to the day you came home from work to find his bags packed in the living room. You thought about the tears that streamed down your face as you tried, and failed, to convince him to stay, that you loved him more than your job.

He cried too, pulling you into a hug, the last one you would ever have. You remember how his chest, which was usually so strong and comforting, trembled against yours. How you weren't sure if the wet warmth on your cheek was from him or from you.

You must have stood like that for thirty minutes, before he pulled away, gave you a last kiss, grabbed his bags and left. It wasn't until later that evening that you discovered his letter.

My Love,

I don't want to do this, but I am no longer happy. We are no longer happy. There isn't much left to us in all reality. I love you to the moon and back, but I can't spend the rest of my life waiting for you to come home from work. I know it's important to you and I would never ask you to leave it, but I have a life to live too.

You made me so happy for such a long time, but you are a writer in the dark. You stay up all night on your computer and leave me with a cold empty bed. When I wake in the morning, you're gone. I can't stay in a relationship that barely exists.

Someday, when you feel like you can put your job aside for a family, call me. I'll be here because I love you. I love you so much, it makes it hard to breathe. Be happy for me.

Love,

Namjoon

And so here you were, in a passenger seat on the way to his wedding reception. Just a girl with a broken heart and a broken promise. You needed to go. You needed to see him. Confront him.

"Drive."

You sat through dinner, barely touching the food on your plate. You listened to your friends chatter away and make snarky comments through all the speeches. When the dancing started, you were hesitant to move, but Lisa dragged you to the edge of the dance floor and forced you to witness the first dance.

You spent most of it staring at the floor nursing a martini that was almost straight gin. You finally looked up at the end of the song, some cheesy pop shit you knew Namjoon loved, and locked eyes with him. His hand was delicately placed over her waste and you secretly wondered how many hours of practice it took for him to be able to dance to this song. The waltz was never his forte.

His stare never left you and as soon as the song was over, he whispered in her ear before walking straight at you. You drowned your drink quickly, praying the alcohol would be enough to get you through whatever was coming. He grabbed your arm without saying a word and dragged you out of the ballroom and into the nearest bathroom.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

His voice was harsh, but there was a touch of tenderness to it.

"Lisa made me come. I don't want to be here anymore than you want me."

"Bullshit!"

You raised an eyebrow at his retort, signaling that you knew he knew you were lying, but you weren't going to tell him the truth.

"I just can't deal with seeing you right now. Do you know what you being here is doing to me?"

You felt a spark of anger go off inside you. He had an issue with being here? That's swell and all, but he was the one who broke up with you. He was getting married, you being here should be nothing more than a footnote.

"I don't care, Namjoon, I don't care if you're hurt or not. I don't care if it's ruining your big day. You leaving ruined my life. I have spent the last year and a half dying because you're not in my bed when I wake up in the morning. And I know that I fucked up and that I needed to be there for you, but you left me without giving me the chance to change! You. Left. Me."

Somewhere in the middle of ranting, hot tears had begun to fall down your cheek and you were once again thankful that you had splurged on waterproof makeup.

"Don't act like such a victim. At least I know that the woman I'm marrying actually loves me."

His words fanned your little spark into a full blown flame and you raised your hand to slap him, but he grabbed your wrist before you could. You looked to his face expecting to see anger, but instead, his eyes showed a mixture of sadness and disappointment.

"I'm sorry." He said.

Next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, soft as you had remembered them. Shock ran through your body and you froze as he continued to kiss you slowly. When he realized you weren't responding, he pulled away, a faint blush apparent on his cheeks.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, you found his lips again. You immediately felt his body relax against yours as his arm snaked around your waste to pull you closer. A bittersweet feeling floated through you as you relished in his taste again. You hadn't realized how much you missed kissing him, how comforting he was.

Somewhere deep inside you was yelling that this was an illusion. That at some point he would have to leave the bathroom and go back to his new wife who would love him and give him children and grow old with him.But you squashed the voice, desperate to live in the moment. Desperate to believe that just for this time, he was yours. That you were his new wife, that you were going to have beautiful children and that in sixty years, you would be two old people stupidly in love.

The kissing quickly became messy and desperate. You unabashedly moaned to his mouth and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in his tongue. Your arms were wrapped around his neck in an attempt to keep him as close to you as possible, as if letting go would mean losing him forever.

He pulled away from you and looked you in the eyes.

"You always look so beautiful."

The comment was quiet and under his breath, but you heard him nonetheless, and warmth crept onto your cheek. Before you could respond, he picked you up and set you on the sink counter.

You welcomed him, as he stepped between your legs, returning his lips to yours. As his lips moved down your neck, his hand traced its way up your thigh, slowly moving your dress up your leg. You moaned as he began to trace circled in your inner thigh, feeling your underwear soaking through.

"Dear god, Joonie," you whine,"don't tease me."

The nickname slipped out without your awareness, but you noticed him pause subtly at the sound of it before returning to his ministrations. His lips returned to yours as he shifted your panties to the side and used his pointer finger to tease your clit.

You whined out at the sudden pleasure, legs tightening on his waist, trying to bring him closer. Trying to bring him home. When he slips a finger inside you, you throw your head back against the mirror. Your eyes squeeze shut, attention completely focused on the digit inside you.

Despite the time that had passed, he hadn't forgotten how to make you see white. With the exception of the man you had dragged back from the bar, you hadn’t been laid in forever, and as a result, you were incredibly sensitive. Right when he was about to tip you over the edge with no more than a finger, he pulled back, lust clouding his eyes, finger soaked.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?"

You whined at the old nickname, clenching your thighs together in a desperate attempt to relieve the ache between your thighs. Namjoon's hand drifted to the front of his slacks to massage the tent that had formed in them, while admiring your fucked out form slouched on the hotel bathroom sink.

"Answer my question baby."

A yes slips out of you and he grins like the devil.

"Look, at you, such a dirty girl, all fucked out in a public bathroom, desperate for me to fuck her."

Nothing had changed. He was still the tease who manipulated your body until you experienced cloud nine. And you were his good girl who obeyed every command, desperate to please.

You dipped your fingers into yourself in an attempt to stretch your pussy open for him, while he slowly dragged down his zipper, and pulled his cock out through the fly. Your memory served you well, but he still seemed bigger than you remembered. The tip was flushed red and dripping pre-cum. For a split second you were worried about him staining his slacks, before dashing your concern away to the depths of your consciousness.

You knew you should, but you felt no guilt for what you were about to do. As far as you were concerned, this was Namjoon’s mistake, not your’s. Sure, there was a beautiful bride dancing in the ballroom, and sure, she didn’t deserve this, but no matter what the certificate said, Namjoon would always be yours.

The realization hit you, as he kissed you again, moaning into your mouth as he rubbed the tip of his cock against you. There would always be a part of him that would belong to you. There would always be a part of his heart, no matter how small, that loved you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here, now, about to fuck you in the small, but beautiful bathroom, at his own wedding reception.

The notion made you feel powerful. Your hand quickly replaced his, and you gave him a few quick strokes before lining him up. You both moaned as his tip pressed into you. When he was fully inside, you couldn’t help but feel complete. Months of emptiness completely forgotten as he slowly pulled out before thrusting back in.

“Fuck, baby, I forgot how tight you were.”

Tears pricked in your eyes as he began to pick up pace, moving faster and faster. Despite trying hard to pretend like this moment could last forever, you knew that she would notice him missing soon, and that this moment was doomed to end. You squeezed your eye’s shut, tried to focus on the feeling of him drilling in and out of you.

It didn’t take long for his pace to become unsteady. You opened your eyes to find him staring at your face. You couldn’t read the look on his face, but it carried a strangely familiar emotion. It wasn’t until he reached down to rub quick circles on your clit that you realized what it was: love The realization had you coming around his cock. You screamed silently, tears finally falling down your face. He was close behind, burying his head in your neck as he filled you up one last time.

“I love you.”

The words were quiet. They were words that weren’t meant to be said out loud. They were words that would haunt him for the rest of his life. But they were the truth, and the truth deserved to be spoken.

“I love you too. I always will.”

You looked him in the eyes, while he softened inside you. There was a silent acknowledgement between you. An acknowledgement that neither of you wanted to admit. That you would never be together. That it would never work. That he was married.

So, while remaining completely silent, he slipped out of you, tucked himself into his slacks, fixed his hair and left. You sat there for minutes, tears rolling down your cheek. Finally, you gained enough energy to pull yourself off the sink, shift your panties back into place and walk back out into the world.

You quickly went to your table, grabbed your purse, and said goodbye to Lisa. If she smelled the sex, she didn’t say anything. When you were at the door, you looked back for half a second. He was dancing with her, laughing at something she said. He looked happy, and you prayed to God that he was.

That night you sat down at your computer and began to write your grand, tragic love story.

__________________

seven years later

You laughed as you walked out into the chill autumn air. Hoseok had that effect on you. Always had. He had just treated you to a wonderful celebration dinner in honor of your first best selling book, a novel about a woman unable to let go of her former love.

As you were about to leave your daughter tugged on his hand informing Hoseok of her need to go to the bathroom. Your husband gave you a quick kiss, before taking the four year old back inside. You stood on the sidewalk, breathing in the air and admiring the city lights, reflecting on how you got there.

A month after Namjoon’s wedding, you met Hoseok in a coffee shop you were writing at. You had hit it off pretty quickly, and two years later you were married. Your daughter, Marie, followed soon after. A month ago, your novel was finally published for the world. And so here you were, celebrating with the family that you loved so much.

“Hi.”

You looked up, startled.

“Namjoon,” you breathed, “what are you doing here?”

“I was, uh, going for a walk.”

Your gazed washed over him, and you noted that he didn’t look too good. His hair was long and unkempt, dark circles under his eyes, and his usual impeccable sense of style was thrown away for some sweats and a hoodie.

“Are you okay?”

You couldn’t help the concern that painted your face.

“I’ve been better.”

He gave you a sad smile.

“Oh?”

“We’re going through a rough patch. I think she wants to get a divorce.”

“Oh.”

At one point, those words would've made your year, but that part of you had died a long time ago.

“Maybe we could go out for a cup of coff-”

His words stopped when he saw the diamond and sapphire ring on your finger.

“Oh.”

His face fell. It was then that Hoseok decided to grace the two of you with his presence. Namjoon quickly looked from you, to Hoseok, to your daughter, as he slowly began to put the picture together.  He looked pained. You knew the look, the look of loss.

“Who’s this?”

Hoseok’s voice was cheery and you were once again grateful for your husband’s consistant happiness.

“An old friend. You take Marie to the car, and I’ll catch up with you in a sec.”

He nodded, happy to oblige. When he was out of earshot, you turned back to Namjoon.

“You were supposed to call.”

You stared blankly at him.

“What?” you finally ask.

“You were supposed to call when you were ready to have a family.”

You looked at him in shock.

“Namjoon, you got married.”

“I know, but I would’ve left her for you.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m not. I still love you. And you still love me. You promised me you would forever.”

“Well, it was a naive promise to make.”

He looked like he was about to cry.

“Look, Joon, go home. I know you loved your wife, and I’m willing to guess you still do. Relationships take work, you know that. You’ve alwayknown that. Show her that she means the world to you. Whatever’s going on, you can make it through it. Whatever part of you still loves me, kill it.”

He nods

“I have to go. But call me when you’re in a better spot, okay?”

You hand him a business card, before walking away into the night.

A month later, you get a text.

“We made it work. Coffee on Wednesday?”

You smiled.

series m.list       m.list

[anistarrose]

Missteps and Miscommunication (GF One-Shot)

Summary: Ford loses consciousness in the fight in the basement, and Stan knows exactly one thing: the being cheerfully offering to reconcile with him is not his brother.

Word Count: 2400

Warnings: Bill possession and some injuries (nothing graphic)

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/22059016

A Secret Santa gift for @usuallyherdragon! Despite the title, it’s actually fulfilling the request of hurt/comfort with a happy ending!

***

“You want me to get rid of this book? Fine! I'll get rid of it right now!”

“No! You don’t understand —”

Stan’s not even sure how it happens, but one moment Ford’s lunging for the journal like a starving wild animal, and the next, he has the book in his hands again but he’s lurching backwards as his legs collapse underneath him. His head hits a pipe half-buried in the ground, but he doesn’t even flinch from the pain. He just goes limp.

“FORD!” Is this my fault? Did I let go of the journal? Did I hurt him? “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay, I’m so fucking sorry —”

Ford’s body twitches, and a faint smile spreads across his face.

“No need to apologize!” he responds without opening his eyes. “We both got a little carried away — just like old times, eh?”

Stan’s heart pounds in his chest. All of his instincts are telling him to bolt.

“Uh… are you s-sure you’re okay?” he asks through chattering teeth. He buries his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, but they don’t feel any warmer.

“Of course! What’s a little head injury to me, Stanford Pines? I’ve got plenty of brain cells to spare!” His eyes still closed, Ford gets to his feet and turns around to face away from Stan. More quietly, he adds:

“If anything, I should be apologizing to you, my dear brother. I let my impulsiveness get the better of me and pushed you away, but really, I wouldn’t want to change the world with anyone else at my side.”

That brazen lie is all it takes to confirm Stan’s suspicions. This thing in front of him in the trenchcoat and glasses isn’t Ford, not anymore.

“Hitting my head gave me an epiphany,” Not-Ford prattles on, gesturing towards the portal. “I was so afraid of what my research could do if it was released into the world, and people with less noble intentions than I got their hands on it — but with your street smarts backing me up, I know we could change the world for the better! What do you say, Stanley?”

“I say you better turn around and face me right now,” Stan growls. “Open your goddamn eyes and turn around and look at me.”

Not-Ford’s limbs jerk unnaturally as he whirls around, blinking catlike yellow eyes as he shoots Stan a toothy grin.

“You caught on after all!” he exclaims. “Now we’ll get to have some real fun!”

Not-Ford feints to the left and Stan falls for it, raising his fists to block a punch that never comes as Not-Ford scampers towards the control panel instead.

“Get out of his body, you — you demon!” Stan shouts, giving chase.

“I’m just borrowing it!” Not-Ford whines. “He said I could!”

“Liar!” Stan makes a grab for the hem of Ford’s trenchcoat, but Not-Ford narrowly dodges out of the way, twisting one last key into the control panel as he darts across the basement.

“Careful, Stanley!” the demon jeers. “You wouldn’t want to hurt your brother! You might even push him into another dimension at this rate, if you’re not careful!”

He wants to turn the portal on, Stan realizes. And I can use that. I just have to find a way to make sure he can’t hurt Ford —

He twists the key back into its initial position and watches the light above it go out, then pulls the key out of the panel and waves it above his head. “Hey, body snatcher! Look what I’ve got!”

“What?! Put that back!”

“Try and catch me with it, sucker!”

Stan makes a break for the elevator room, and Not-Ford gives chase only to trip and fall on his face. Stan flinches, but takes a deep breath and throws open the door anyway, scouring the room for rope, electrical cords, anything that he could use to restrain Ford’s body while looking for a way to get rid of the demon.

His eyes come to rest on a mannequin stuffed in the corner to his left. It has a rope tied around its waist, and he kneels down to untangle the knots —

“Look what I found!” a too-cheery voice sings behind him, followed by the sound of a door being kicked open and a flame hissing to life.

Stan whirls around to find the demon wielding a blowtorch, its blue glow reflecting in Ford’s glasses and almost hiding those horrible slit-pupiled eyes.

“Let me strike a deal with you, Stanley! You help me turn the portal on, I’ll give you your brother back, and I’ll let the both of you live when I conquer this dimension! Heck, I’ll even give each of you your own continent to rule! I sure won’t need ‘em all when I’ve got the whole galaxy under my command!”

Back against the wall and staring down a grinning demon and a searing butane flame, Stan knows he’s cornered. But with a rope in one hand and a key in the other, he still has one last desperate idea.

“Well?” the demon asks. “Deal or no deal?”

“Go long!” Stan hurls the key over Not-Ford’s head and the demon dives backwards, dropping the blowtorch as he outstretches his arms —

Then the back of his shoulder slams into a red-hot sigil etched into the side of the desk, and his body spasms for several terrifying seconds before dual beams of yellow light fly out of his eyes and Ford slumps to the ground, unconscious.

***

The first thing Ford processes after waking up is the rope chafing around his wrists, restraining him as he attempts to bolt to his feet.

“Well, look who’s finally awake.”

“Go to hell, Bill!” Ford spits. “Why are you still —”

He blinks. “Stanley?”

“Oh, are you you again? I wasn’t sure.” Stan steps forward and puts a hand on Ford’s shoulder, stopping the chair Ford’s tied to from toppling over before leaning in close to take a look at Ford’s eyes. Then Stan nods, apparently satisfied.

“You know, actually telling me that you get possessed by a fucking demon when you’re unconscious would’ve been really helpful an hour ago.”

Ford allows himself one tiny sigh of relief. It’s good — better than Ford could’ve hoped for, really — that Stan has picked up on the nature of Ford’s predicament, but that doesn’t mean all is well. Far from it.

“Bill didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Nah, he was waving around a blowtorch for a minute or two, but I don’t think he really knew how to use the thing.” Noting what must’ve been a truly horrified expression on Ford’s face, Stan frowns. “Why do you care anyways?”

“Because — because you’re my brother?!” Ford splutters.

Stan looks away, and Ford can just sense that another argument is imminent, though he can’t imagine why. (Other than how he’d told Stan to get out of his house earlier, and how he’d certainly never given Stan any reasons over the past decade to believe that he did care, and… alright, he can imagine quite a few explanations why.)

“Look, Stanley, there are — there are a million more productive things we can, and should, be discussing right now. Did Bill do anything to the portal? If he did, I need you to untie me right this minute so I can get downstairs and make sure it doesn’t get activated —”

“He flipped a couple switches, but the thing didn’t look too active to me,” Stan answers quietly. “After I got you — er, your body — tied up, I went and switched back the settings to what I remembered them looking like when we first came downstairs. Half your damn diary was illegible, but one of the pages I could read helped with that.”

“Then — then I don’t know how you did it, but you probably just averted a universal apocalypse.” Ford takes a deep breath. “I really should still go down to double-check the portal’s status in the basement, but… I owe you an apology. I —”

“You really don’t,” Stan mumbles.

Ford tries several times to say something before finally managing: “Are you really still that determined to disagree with me about everything?!”

Stan slumps into the kitchen’s other chair, still not making eye contact. “You haven’t got the full story, Ford. How does your shoulder feel? Not great, I’m guessing.”

Ford grimaces. His shoulder admittedly feels horrible — he’d ignored it at first only because random injuries are a given whenever Bill is involved. “What happened?”

“It was an accident, I swear. I was just — just trying to distract the demon so he didn’t blowtorch my ass, but he backed up into this brand you had on the side of your desk, and —”

“A brand? You mean the protective sigil?!”

“You think I know what a protective sigil looks like? It had a circle, a diamond, some arrows —”

“And you said Bill backed into it on his own? You didn’t push him onto it?!”

“Yeah, but what difference does it make? It was still my fault —”

Ford tries and fails to hold in a delirious, sleep-deprived laugh. “Oh my god, Stan…”

Stan cringes. “Oh, just get it over with already! Tell me you never want to see my face again —”

“Are you kidding?” Ford asks. “Why would I say that after you just accomplished what I thought was impossible?!”

Stan’s jaw drops. “You’ve completely lost your mind, haven’t you.”

“Quite the opposite! My mind is safer than it’s ever been —” Ford pauses. “Although you wouldn’t have any way of knowing that, would you? I’m sorry. I should explain.”

“Yeah.” Stan buries his head in his hands. “You really should.”

“Let me start… near the beginning. I made a deal with a demon, which was incredibly foolhardy of me, even though he initially appeared to be more of a muse than a demon at the time, and… that deal allowed him to take over my body whenever I fell asleep.”

Ford waits for the mocking, the contempt, the ‘serves you right,’ but it never comes.

“Tough break,” is all Stan mutters, in a voice that doesn’t seem judgemental as much as it does numb.

“His ultimate goal was to use that portal, which he tricked me into creating, to open a rift to the dimension his physical form resides in,” Ford slowly goes on. “Such a rift would allow him to enter our world, and then do with it as he pleased. He’d be nigh-omnipotent here — hence my desperation to get rid of the journals that explained how to activate the portal. And that was why I called you here — but that was a mistake.”

Stan flinches, and Ford quickly adds: “I don’t mean asking for your help was a mistake! I mean it was a mistake to try and send you away — except it was that argument that led to Bill getting exorcised, which wouldn’t have happened otherwise, so — I don’t know. Maybe it was the right choice, but made for all the wrong reasons —”

“Exorcised?” Stan echoes. “That’s what the sigil did to Bill?”

“Exactly. Bill’s locked out of my body until the scars disappear… which might not ever happen, for all I know.” Momentarily forgetting he’s still tied up, Ford tries to rub his shoulder.

“Except I couldn’t just brand myself with it while I was awake,” he explains. “Bill had to come in contact with it of his own free will while possessing my body, or it wouldn’t work. At first, I’d planned to turn the house into a minefield of protective sigils in hope that Bill would stumble onto one of them, but it took so long to properly enchant the one on the desk that I gave up before preparing any others, and passed it off as a lost cause.”

“Holy shit.” Stan rubs his head. “…Well, guess you’ll want me to untie you now, huh.”

“That would be ideal, yes.”

Stan fumbles with the knots for a few moments of awkward silence before simply pulling out a pocketknife and cutting through the ropes. As Ford stretches his arms, Stan asks: “What are you going to do now?”

“Double-check the portal settings. Disassemble a few key components so they’re still repairable, but we can be sure we won’t have any more close calls. Then… god, I think I might actually be able to sleep after that. I can hardly believe it.”

“…Ford?” Stan asks, so quietly that Ford might not have heard it at all were the house not so silent otherwise.

“Yes?”

“Can I spend the night here? I mean, I don’t want to get in the way of your work saving the world and all that, but… it’s still snowing like crazy outside, and I don’t know how far the Stanmobile can make it —”

“You can stay as long as you need to,” Ford says, and instantly regrets it. Not because he doesn’t want Stanley to stay, but because need implies that the stay will only last a few nights at most. And as much as he’s tried to deny it for years, Ford is lonely.

“Okay. I’m gonna go grab some stuff from my car —”

“Actually, scratch that,” Ford interrupts, and Stan freezes like a deer in the headlights.

“What I meant to say was… you can stay as long as you like. And for all I know, that still may not be very long, because I haven’t been the best brother or even paid my goddamn heating bills, but… well, I’d like to catch up with you, if that’s — gah!”

The hug catches Ford off guard, leaving him gasping for breath

“I’d like that too, Sixer,” Stan whispers.

Ford hugs him back, and Stan finally manages a laugh. “Even if we have to tell stories while sitting around a goddamn bonfire so we don’t freeze to death. Seriously, why did you stop paying your heating bills?”

“It seemed like a good way to keep myself awake at the time…” Ford murmurs in the moments before drifting back to sleep right then and there, leaning on his brother’s shoulder in the middle of an empty kitchen.

[erintoknow]

leave no room for anything

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

You need cover, you need an alibi, and you need a place to plan and work out your next criminal action. What could go wrong from combining all that? [Survival]

[Read on AO3]

Another day, another spike of adrenaline courses through you as you dive feet first through a stack of boxes, sending crates of delicate electronic equipment everywhere. You can hear alarms sound around you as the factory goes into full alert, the clanging of barring gates. You grin under the mirror sheen of your helmet. That suits you fine, keep the small fry penned up and out of the way? You’re too kind.

The wall in front of you collapses into dust thanks to the nanovores and you tear through the office, grabbing at papers at random. What you take doesn’t actually matter at this point, compromising their records is the goal here.

Damage done, you refer to your map, dissolve another wall and follow your thread out, back to the main entrance.

The woman standing in your way gives you pause. You’d been psyching yourself up for a rematch against Chen, but no, its Lady Argent, hands at her sides and poised to rush you. A half-circle of rent-a-cop security goons behind her block you in. “A factory, Puppetmaster? What, they stop inviting you out to parties?” She smirks and hunches down, fingers lengthening into sharpened claws.

Your face twitches under your helmet. “Don’t read the papers, Argent? It’s Ghost.” You hiss. Your voice, filtered through your helmet has a hollow, flat sound. You take a quick count of Lady Argent’s back-up, who’s most pliable to tying up the rest. None of the officers seem to trust Argent. Good. That makes this easier.

The woman of steel looks unimpressed. “Can’t say I care what you call yourself.”

That does it.

One of the rent-a-cop’s guns goes off ‘prematurely’, firing wide to your left, the rest follow in blind panic as you dive to the side. Argent is too focused on you, but with the Rat-King’s help you’re able to pull the rest of the goof troop into your song, pulling their attention in random directions. One of the shots dings Argent in her shoulder, bouncing off to through ground and to her credit she doesn’t look for the culprit, making straight for you.

You run your hand along the ground as you move, leaving a split in the asphalt as the Nanovores chew through material. Lady Argent tries to cut you off so you encourage two of the goons to stumble into her way as you continue your circle around them. You can’t afford to move slow enough for a deep groove, but if this works as planned, all you need is to prime the cut.

If it works.

Argent huffs, shoving one of the men the side, only for another to conveniently take position between the two of you. “Get out of the way!” It doesn’t slow her down for long, but it’s enough for you to finish the circle. Under your helmet you grin, heart pounding.

All that’s left is the magic word. You give the Rat-King the command to pull the strings and yank everyone back in.

You dash forward and slide down, just under the swipe of her claws. She turns to stab down at you as you come to halt. You roll out of the way and kick her arm aside on your way back up.

You check to make sure everyone’s inside the circle you’ve carved through the asphalt. “Heads up.” is all the warning you give before an explosion rocks the ground under everyone’s feet. A furious Argent diving towards you finds only empty space underneath her, and you leap back as the asphalt caves in.

When the dust clears you risk taking a quick check of everyone’s mental state; a lot of fear and alarm, some pain, but the headcount is still the same. You think.

Hopefully.

You shake your head. Focus. Don’t get distracted. Stay in control. You watch Argent and the rest pick themselves up, clear rubble off their buddies. You have to harden your heart against it, remember who they are, what they represent. “Next time,” you call down, “remember my fucking name!”

Admittedly, Argent makes it easier. She’s staring up at you, a single silver middle finger outstretched.

You don’t like the way she’s eyeing one of the support columns. Can she climb her way out? You don’t intend to stick around and see, it’s time to make yourself scarce.

–––

Every super villain needs a secret lair. A base of operations. Somewhere you can plan your next move, keep mission critical materials. If Ariadne is going to be stuck playing retired civilian, it’s even more important to keep her as separated as you can from Ghost’s activities.

Eventually the day will come when you have to cast off that identity completely, but two years isn’t long enough to make you eager to resume a life of being actively on the run from a government agency. You need to gather more influence – and protection – if you’re going to ever unmask without it being an immediate disaster.

To that end… Ariadne needs a cover. She needs a job, co-workers, hobbies. A new wardrobe. You need Ortega to take a breather and ease off on trying worm her way in and fix every little aspect of your life.

So you’ll combine the two.

Technically a ‘Melissa Simone’ owns the computer repair shop you’re standing in front of. Ms. Simone also interviewed and hired yourself and the middle-aged lady with greying hair now manning the front counter.

You put a hand on the front door, hesitating. You keep putting this off but… guess you better ‘officially’ meet your new co-worker.

A bell chimes as you step inside. Old computer advertisements adorn the walls while parts and models are neatly stacked into three aisles across the open front half of the room. The building itself is on the older side. Hopefully a bit more use will get it looking properly run down enough to seem like it’s always been a repair shop here.

The woman at the counter looks up with a smile, a phone pressed to her ear. She holds a finger up as you approach.

You didn’t hire Marcie for her customer service skills. You hired her because she’s a terminally incurious middle-aged woman who fully intends to spend as much of her time talking to friends on the store phone or otherwise shirking her duties as much as possible.

Leaning an arm against the counter you wait for her to finish her current conversation, drumming your fingers against the wooden countertop. Watch the clock on the wall tick the seconds by. Finally she hangs up and turns back to you with a tired expression. “Alright, what do you want?”

You put on a sickly sweet smile. “My name is Ariadne Becker? Y–your um… co-worker?”

Marcie blinks, frowns, then flushes red. “Oh!” She hurries out from behind the counter, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought you were a customer.”

“I could tell.”

She puts her hand out and you give it a quick shake. “Are you really the only repairm–person here?”

“Eh.” You shrug, glancing at the beaded doorway to the back room. “If business ever picked up maybe it’d be worth hiring more.” Glance back to her, smile again. “For now, I’m it yeah. I don’t usually bother with – with um, the front entrance.”

“Well, if you ever need something from me, sweetie, you let old Marcie know, okay?”

You blink, not sure how to respond. She wasn’t this nice to Jane– ahem ‘Melissa Simone.’ “Uh. Y–yeah, sure. Thanks.” You cough. “Um… Ms. Simone gave you the – the rundown about the back right?”

Marcie looks at you, arching a skeptical eyebrow. “To stay the hell out? Yeah.” She leans in, “So… what are we fronting here sweetheart? Drugs? It’s drugs isn’t it.” She straightens her back with a dramatic sigh. “It’s always drugs.”

“I – what???” You stare at her. “W–we’re not – not ‘fronting’ anything!?”

She frowns. Is she… disappointed…!? “Oh? Really? Well. A job’s a job, I guess.”

“I… I just have a… very particular system. Okay?” You shove your hands into your pockets, looking away from her. Stare at the posters on the wall.

“Ah. You’re one of those.” One of those what? You can’t pick it up from her thoughts, just the sliding of her changing expectations. “Well, I’ll keep out of your hair, sweetie.” She steps aside, “It was nice to meet you Ariadne, dear.”

You walk past her in a daze. Push through the bed curtain into your ‘workshop.’ A central table has a pile of half-deconstructed computer cases, their silicon guts scattered haphazardly. A tool kit hangs from the wall alongside a clear plastic cabinet of replacement parts.

Hopefully the facade holds up. You don’t have much intention of actually doing computer repair work here. It’s more than a little concerning that Marcie of all people immediately jumped to the ‘criminal front’ explanation. Was hiring her a mistake? She doesn’t seem to actually care. Maybe you should go out of your way now and then to drum up business. Put some effort into looking legit.

Aside from the bathroom and breakroom, there’s one more room. Your actual workshop. The shop technically is built onto the side of an old warehouse. You’ve walled off most of the space, installed a hidden door, just inside next to the back door out.

You didn’t use up the entire warehouse. Just walled off a decent sized chunk. The rest has been dressed up. Mostly shelves of boxes full of bricks. Something that’ll pass at least cursory inspection.

The door slides open to your touch, keyed to your fingerprint. It springs back into place as you step past. The lights flicker on at low-power. Now here is where you can finally start to get shit done. Your armor is mounted to a secondary hidden compartment recessed into the far wall, next to a bed in case you need to crash or puppeteer Jane for a bit.

You’re particularly proud of the hiding place you’ve created for the Rat-King; an oversized lava lamp sits on the bedside table, a soft blue glow filling the room. Even if anyone breaks in here, anything of value will still be hidden. You’re not completely stupid.

One corner of the room is taken up by a bank of screens and a computer terminal. A system of motion detectors, CCTV, and trip alarms have been carefully set up over the past month in a two block radius around the shop. Nothing is coming near here without you getting some kind of record of it.

And then, last but not least, against one wall a full-length table stretches underneath a pristine corkboard.

Not pristine for long… You reach back into your pocket and pull out a wad of folded up, blood stained papers. The only thing you were able to salvage from the Marconi fiasco. Could have just pinned this while you were setting everything up, you guess.

But this feels more dramatic.

You grab a pin from the cork board and smooth out the creases with your other hand. Jam the paper to the middle of the board. A bill of sale for something called a ‘Regenerator.’ You don’t recognize the name of the buyer, but the listed seller is the personal assistant to Mayor Alvarez.

You pin a scattering of related articles next to the receipt, your prize from today’s factory theft. They’re all related to the sudden government take-over and closure of the regenerator’s parent company, PharmaCore.

What exactly is going on here; you have no idea. But it’s shady as shit, and that means it’s a point of attack. If you’re going to crack the damn city open, this is your starting point. You grab a pen and paper as you sit down at the desk.

You hum a tune under your breath as you work. Time to start planning out your next moves.

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 14

~*~Sebastian~*~

After what she said about knowing my normal wasn’t accountant normal, fans, and press I had a lot of questions. I wanted to know where she'd been, what she'd seen, and what she'd done. I wanted to hear tour stories. I really wanted to hear about the after parties. I’ve been to my share, but I was an outsider. If she's spending family holidays in fucking Hawaii she is most definitely not an outsider. I want to hear what goes on when no one else is there to see.

I went back to her Instagram to buy myself some time. I wondered why now? Why didn't she show me this sooner? Pretty instantly I realized that was bullshit. What was she supposed to do whip out her phone and say, "Look who I'm friends with”? I waited to talk about my job and friends because I didn't want that stuff to be a focus. I wanted her to get to know me apart from what I do. I think her reasoning is different. She didn't want me to think she’s a stalker, but wanted me to know she knew how to handle herself and had experience with what I was struggling to explain. Like she’d said, music and acting are different, but same enough to make this easier. Whatever this is or might be.

I wanted to scroll through her Instagram for hours. I didn't want to move from this bench where my arm was around her, she was leaning against me, and she was holding my hand. I need to know what perfume she wears. It's sweet, but not cloying. Right now, it smells like "get closer and breathe me in." Her thinking it creepy to follow me on IG after one date... well, she's right. Not that I would have noticed. Still, it's the thought that counts. It’s respectful of my privacy. Not needed since IG isn't private, but again, it's the thought that counts. Not surprising. She's been nothing but thoughtful.

I had to get up and move. I didn't want to move, but I had to get up and move. It was like last night with conversation and flirting moving back and forth, in and out. It was time to walk back a little or I was going to suggest leaving here and going back to her place. It's weird when what you want to do is also what you don't want to do. Why don't I want to, you ask? Because this is too good to rush.

The little girl definitely changed the atmosphere. I took a picture I'd text to Emma later. I wasn't really focusing on the Irish dancing. I try to stay in the moment, but I was all in my head. I stood behind her, a little to the side, where I could see her and put my hand on the small of her back.

It was taking a chance asking out a girl I'd met in a grocery store. I'd like to say that every new couple has to figure out their place in the other's world and with friends. And while that's true, it's very different. Take all that normal stuff I just mentioned and tack on paparazzi, people posting things on social media, or selling stories to tabloids. Press will try to get to her, find out about her. Even worse, my fans will. They can be worse than any tabloid. They hold definite opinions on my life and three times as many opinions about my love life. I've taken a big step back from social media for those reasons and how awful fans can be to each other. That's the worst. I can ignore what they say to me and about a girlfriend, it’s part of it. But when they fight each other, bully someone who did nothing but have an opinion about me different from theirs. I hate seeing those posts

It’s hard to explain how much the outside shit can affect relationships and subtly the things I do. Be it wearing earbuds or laughing off questions about relationships. It’s not about denial, it’s about protection. Emma's relationship with Ed clears out having to explain a lot. Now it’s at most a  conversation about specifics. She already has the framework. I breathed easier when I realized there was a framework. I don't have to teach her about celebrity life. I just have to teach her about me. How I handle things. Much easier.

I think it’s cool how we're both doing the same thing. Waiting for the right time to discuss situations instead of the contrived “We need to talk." Not too much of that anyway. We're letting conversation go off on its own, following where it leads, and reigning it in when needed. So, all the questions I had were going to have to wait. She'd let me know something private, trusted me with information on her. Outside at a crowded festival wasn’t the place for questions.

This was the place for fun and making memories. I came back to the moment when Alyson's group came on stage. I don't know if they were good, but it was fun to watch. We cheered when they finished and made our way in the direction the group had headed off stage. The girls were congratulating each other and their families were mixing in. Emma caught Alyson's eye, gave her a thumbs up, and we moved on.

Carnival rides were next. There were things which went in circles, swung back and forth, dropped out of the sky, and went fast. We rode them all. We screamed and laughed so much that my throat hurt. We took a break and hit the fun house. We were holding onto each other to make it through areas with moving floors, spinning tunnels, moving staircases, and a mirror maze. The haunted house was my favorite because Emma hid her face against my chest and held on tight. I was sorry to reach the end.

We grabbed some food and kept walking. We wound up back by the dance stage. Irish dancing was replaced with line dancing. The sun was down and the stage was full. I nodded in the stage's direction, "Can you do that?"

Emma laughed, "Sometimes. You?"

I shrugged and pulled her toward the stairs, "I guess we'll see."

We danced to country, hip-hop, and everything in between. Truthfully, neither of us were very good. I imagine previous attempts had been made with alcohol, which made us think we were better than we were. It was a lot of fun. Reminded me of yoga with more laughing and cursing. Only this time we weren't being glared at by other people.

No idea how long we were out there. The music ended with an announcement that square dancing was next and would start when the band was ready. We headed off the stage with everyone else. We were both breathing heavy. For me it was part exertion, part from near constant laughter, and part my date was hot as fuck.

Hot as fuck. Beautiful. Whatever. She kept pushing her hair back when it fell in her face. Her face and eyes were filled with joy when we were successful or so confused we nearly fell over. The way she moved her body to the music had me mesmerized. Part of why I’d found it so sexy was because she wasn't trying to be. She was having fun and letting loose. As much as I enjoyed last night, this was better. Maybe better isn't the right word. Like the island jukebox, just different. Last night was words and tonight was activity.

I held her hand behind me down the stairs. It was crowded and I turned to make sure she was with me, not getting stuck behind other people leaving. Emma jumped off the last step into my arms. Her arms wrapped around my neck and I held on around her waist. Her feet hung a few inches off the ground and I swung her a few times before letting her slide down my body. Very painful. She was close and left one hand on my shoulder, the other on my chest, "This has been so much fun, Seb."

I nodded, "It has. That was exhausting. Felt like another workout."

She nodded her agreement. I held onto her waist, not quite ready to let her go yet. "You ready to get out of here? Long walk to the vehicle."

"Yeah, and we have to pick up the window and the fish."

"Mmm, can’t forget the fish. Run by the grocery and get fish food."

We started walking, hadn't gotten too far before she had a suggestion, "It’s not too late. Would you want to watch a movie? Maybe some wine?"

I smiled broadly, "I would love that. I'm not ready for the night to end."

"Me neither."

I like knowing what's next. With our closeness tonight there's no doubt we'll be cuddled together on that couch. Something in the movie or us talking will pause. A pause that's perfect for a kiss. That's all I want. Anything else is topping on the ice cream.

Fish food and wine made for an interesting grocery trip. The guy checking us out looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I glanced at his name tag, "Trust me, Chris, it makes sense." He laughed.

In Emma's kitchen she tended to the fish, now named Mycroft, while I opened the wine. She handed me a pair of glasses and pointed toward the stairs. "I'm going to run to the bathroom. Pick out whatever movie you like."

I sat our glasses on the table next to the chaise and tucked myself in the corner. I went into her favorite collection and poked around. I picked a comedy and had it pulled up when she came back, "This ok?"

"Absolutely. Have you seen it?"

"I don't think so. I love everybody. Not sure how I missed it."

I hit play as she sat down close to me. I put my arm on the couch back, giving her an invitation. She tucked her feet underneath her and tucked herself in tight next to me. I took a deep breath, taking in the moment.

The next thing I remembered was waking up who knows how much later. The movie was back on the start screen, so at least two hours. I was still stretched out on the chaise. Emma was too. She was using my shoulder as a pillow and her leg was hooked over mine. Her arm lay on my chest and my arms were around her. I shifted my shoulder a little, trying to restore feeling to my fingers, but she stirred and I froze. Her face crinkled up a little then softened. At the same time her fingers flexed against my chest then relaxed.

I think I'm a good man. A good man in an interesting situation. A better man would carry her to her room and cover her with a blanket before leaving her a note and locking the door behind him. Saving them both from an awkward morning. Definitely sparring myself from questions from my mother about where I'd stayed the night.

I am not the better man.

I'm not even the next step down guy who leaves her on the couch under a cover, writes a note, and goes home.

I'm the good man who likes what's going on here. My hands are in safe zones and will stay there. I like the feel of her body warm against mine. I don't want to leave. I don't want to write a note. I want to go back to sleep, wake up and laugh our way through an awkward morning, and make plans what we're going to do after I finish helping mom move in.

In my sleepy state I decide I will never end up kissing her.

 Next time I woke up there was a wonderful smell of coffee filling the room. I stretched my arms high and turned to look in the kitchen. Emma, in last night’s clothes, was pouring two cups. She saw me stretching, "Good morning, sleepy head."

I stood, stretching again, "How long have you been up?"

She smiled and put the cups on the breakfast bar. “I woke up a little bit ago, but was so warm and comfortable I didn't get up. You make a good pillow."

I sat on the stool, reaching for my cup, "Thank you. You were a good blanket." I watched her cheeks pink with embarrassment. I couldn't have that. "Please, tell me I didn't fall asleep first?"

Emma shrugged, "It was close."

[itsakpopalypse]

Kim Inseong (SF9) Astrology : How He Loves

“You already know what’s coming... 😏 can you please do one of your wonderful astrology „how he loves“-posts for SF9‘s Inseong, thank youuu 😄😘 “ -  @randomkpopfiction 

A/N, for you my love, my bebe, anything ^_^  I hope you enjoy. who is cackling evilly in the distance? If you can hear it from where you are it’s definitely not me...

without further adieu 

STOP THAT’S CUTE

So!!!

He is a Cancer sun, Rising Libra, Aries Moon

so this is suuuper interesting. ALL THREE ARE CARDINAL SIGNS

in fact, his entire chart is HEAVILY cardinal

this is really interesting but we’ll talk more about that later. 

Libra and Aries are sister signs, meaning that they are euqal but opposite

Both are the Cardinal of their element, and they are both in the “Active” elements type

this is interesting because while Cancer is a sometimes too moody sign, 

Libra is very temperate and controlled, and Aries has passion and determination

this should be a nice balance for Cancer’s general “I’m upset so I can’t function” moments

honestly at first glance his chart made me go WHOAH

because his aspect design is.... elaborate

Libra rising suggests he is open, charismatic, talkative and open minded

when you first meet him he will be super easy to get along with and likely crack a lot of lighthearted jokes

Libra’s are a bit flirty... very flirty...

so are Aries.

so there is probably a good amount of that unintentionally

Like he one of those people you meet who just compliments everyone and seems like they are jokingly hitting on every one around them

they will hit on a broom if they think it’ll get a laugh

Cancer suns are ... Complex? 

deep thinkers, deep feelers. The Cardinal of  Water

their feelings are like an ocean

it can be sweeping and rough or calm on the surface, but underneath full of life and excitement

they are represented by the crab so that means he may have a tough shell to crack emotionally 

especially if he feels like those feelings are not something the people around him need to see or know

Lunar Aries are full of AFFECTION

but are picky with who it goes to

so if you are in that circle expect all the touches and joking and compliments

His mercury is also Cancer so his communication can become blocked if he is truly emotional

he might need to pull into himself and think about it before expressing himself

that’s healthy and good!

Venus in Gemini, combined with a Virgo mars is a really interesting balance

it means that while Gemini tends to be... flighty until it is fully sure that that’s “the one” and fears commitment, Virgo  Mars (Mars being somewhat more dominant for male expression of affection) Will be more slow moving and tempered

basically he may WANT to jump right in and right back out, but his Virgo mars will say, no, take your time and learn this person well before you jump in

and will act as a voice of reason when Gemini starts fearing that it’s being tied down

North node in Sagittarius suggests he is intellectual and adventurous at heart 

maybe the type to take you places you have never been 

sight seeing in whatever way you prefer, touring new cities, hiking, etc,

wants to build experiences with you, not just give you gifts

all together!!

The type to compliment you at the exact moment you are feeling unsure 

“That skirt makes your legs look a million miles long.”

“How did I get so lucky, seeing your smile every day??”

“You make me happier than I can express. Just by being you.”

little out of the blue moments

definitely holds your hand when you’re on a drive

points out something in the distance and talks about it’s beauty only to tell  you that you are far more beautiful

inside and out

compliments your abilities too!!

He has the inquisitive and collectors mind of Sagittarius and Aries, 

like if you stimulate him mentally he will bust a nut in his heart 

the biggest turn on for a Cancer sun with an Aries moon is someone who can keep up with them in Wit and keep them on track when they start to get too bogged down by details

physically I think he would be the very possessive type since Cancer does NOT like to share

I imagine that means sitting close isn’t close enough

his lap?? Perfect for sits

likes to whisper into your ear from behind

half cause it’s cute half to feel you shiver

plops his head on your shoulder and wraps his arms around  your middle, probably fiddling with your fingers while he does

nuzzles into your neck to make you giggle

CUTE

might make you turn around so you face him mid lap sits

so he can rock you back and forth and rub  your back with little pats and gentle scritches

what is that?? your thighs?

for his head to go on 

will grab your hand and place it in his hair and just stare until you get the idea

he wants you to reciprocate

do not, do not

do not give this type of attention to another member

will get jealous and pout and refuse to speak to you 

until 👀👀👀 guess you’ll find out below

18 + below,

SPICY TIME

Get your man, please

You knew this was coming

Remember what i said above, about Jealous Cancer?

GIRL

We knew a Gemini Venus means ALL THE KINKS

we know an Aries moon means PASSION AND CONTROL

we know a Cancer sun means JEALOUSY INTENSITY AND POSSESSIVE 

before anyone freaks, no , i don’t mean possessive like controlling or unhealthy, but in a relationship where it’s established that these traits can come into play time... expect it to come OR YOU WHATEVER

And we know mars in Virgo means RULES AND DETAILS

honey 

oh 

oh honey

good luck

honestly

He would ensure you felt safe first, you’d have really good communication about sex and kinks and what is and isn’t okay and then....

he’d be sure to follow through

look . 

I’m not saying he HAS to dom?

but that’s exactly what I am saying

It’s that low key way, though

like no one on the outside would know, or have to know, that he was that way

you’d seem to have an incredibly normal relationship

isn’t the type to have you in collars or bring the play outside the room ...

but inside?

he has a box full of treasures just for his baby

he has a list you have to go over 

When you have a bad day he lavishes you in touches and kisses

“Lay back baby, let me make it all better for you..“

When you’ve been bratty he has a punishment for you 

“Ass up, grab your ankles, and count until we get to 10, miss a number and you start back at 1.”

Most days he just wants to have you in full compliance, writhing under him knowing that he is the one who gets to see you like this, hear you like this

His Lilith being in Pisces tells me he wants you all his own forever, a love driven by intense feelings, no half measures in his love

Overstim will probably be his favorite kink

likes hearing you gasp, see your back arch like oooh

will drag the back of his fingertips from your neck down to between your breasts to make you shiver

the type of lover who drags out the pleasure over and over

sensation play is a big emphatic YES

wear a blindfold so he can caress you with ribbons and silk and feathers

maybe temperature play?

Anything that get’s him the most intense reactions

probably has a tally somewhere of how many times he’s made you come in one session and aims to beat it

if you find it he’s like *grin* yep

wanna try now??

Virgo likes lists okay?

The type who isn’t shy about adding toys of any kind 

if it means he gets to see you come apart again and again he is all for it

12/10 cuddles after

like you will not get away

the koalaing has begun

you’re his until he is done with them. 

or gets hungry whatever.

All in all, He would have days where the kinks weren’t as big of a part

quickies when you’re short on time, 

eating you on the counter top while breakfast cooks

that kind of stuff

but he lives for elaborate decadence

the type that makes your toes curl every time you think about it

and your heartbeat speed up if you see that counter again because....

ooooffff

Hi i hope you aren’t dead my love 

[yoshichao]

the Smashers and their Host Ch13 Preview

Series: Super Smash Bros.

Characters: Reader, Literally Everyone In Super Smash Bros Ultimate

Summary:  You're an inter-dimensional being that owns a huge estate situated on the cusp of spacetime. You've been asked to rent out your mansion for the upcoming Super Smash Bros. tournament. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Reader-Insert, Romantic & Platonic Harem, Comedy, Fluff, No Smut

Read the fic here!

[So after a year, I finally finished chapter 11... During my writer’s block, I actually started on what was then going to be chapter 12, but I’ve seen then squeezed another chapter between them in the plans. So, if all goes according to plan, this will be May’s update. Anyways, I feel like posting it so!! It’s not as meaty as the chapter 11 preview - this one is only about 2k words instead of a whopping 13k - but I hope you enjoy regardless!]

You can’t help but stare as the roller coaster above slowly reaches its peak before plummeting downwards, accompanied by a chorus of screams. Just watching the cars zip through loops and corkscrews makes your head spin, and you find yourself grateful that you aren’t on that particular ride. You don’t know if your heart could take it.

The repairs at the mansion finished with accompanying fanfare (well, in your head, at least) and you thought you’d be able to sit back and relax for a bit. Your new life had other plans, of course, and the Smashers were absolutely insatiable, so you had been invited to join them to an amusement park. Honestly, you should have declined - you wanted to! - but…

“Pleaaaaase?” Roy had been the one to ask you to join them, giving you puppy dog eyes as he held the brochure out. The park was in a place called Nimbasa City - recently expanded! grand re-opening! - which you recognized as a place in the Pokemon universe. 

“You know you can go without me, right?” you tried, still feeling worn out from all the Social Activities and babysitting you’ve been doing lately. The other day, you found DK using Pac-man as a bowling ball to “prank” anyone wandering the halls. Then the following day, you’re pretty sure Villager and Toon Link had a slingshot competition with the mansions’ windows. And then the day after that, Leaf helped you play detective to find out who was stealing all the speakers throughout the mansion, just to find Diddy Kong using them to create a “gaming set-up fit for a king”. 

Why.

Completely oblivious to your weariness, Roy’s expression remained enthusiastic, even when he gave you a mock-frown. “Sure, but, you said we would hang out together next time everyone was doing something!”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you did!”

Oh right, you did. You did say that after he wasn’t invited to the sleepover. Curse you and your desire to keep everyone happy! Now you have to go!

And so, after someone consulted Master Hand about building a temporary transporter directly to Nimbasa City, here you are.

“Whoa, it’s even cooler than in the pictures!” Roy, determined to take you up on your offer to spend time together, arrived via teleporter alongside you. While the mansion has been abuzz over another multiverse outing, you have no idea who actually intended on going. It’s already midday, so there are probably plenty of Smashers already here…

Pulling your gaze away from the roller coaster, you notice that your redheaded companion was also staring intently at the Rayquaza-themed deathtrap. His expression is strained, leading you to believe the both of you are thinking the same thing.

“Why don’t we start with getting something to eat?” you suggest, thinking of the safest option possible. Oh, but if you end up going on rides with a full stomach… Hm, maybe that’s not as safe as you thought. But Roy eagerly takes your suggestion and you have no choice but to follow him to the food court.

“That’s a great idea! I’m dying to see what kind of food this world has!”

You can’t help but agree, but his words have curiosity bubbling within you. “Have you never visited the Pokemon world before?”

“Only once, during Melee!” His grin is almost infectious, though it mellows out as he continues talking. “We never came out here during the last tournament season! ...Or at least, not while I was around.” Roy frowns a moment before putting on another smile, though this one seems a bit more forced. “Melee’s whole thing though was that we were travelling to a new universe for each round of the tournament. For the Pokemon world though, we took a blimp to the stadium, so we didn’t really get to explore…”

That’s right - you forgot Roy was technically only invited to one full tournament, so he wouldn’t have had as much time to relax and travel around with the others. It was only by popular demand that he was invited for the “extra” tournaments, appearing alongside Ryu as a secret opponent for the champions of the mini doubles tournament. They’d both go on to appear in the remaining tournaments and random matchups of the season. While that would have given him a few months to participate in fun activities with the others, you have to imagine a lot of that slows down during tournament season.

“But, a few Smashers and I snuck out between matches to check out the local town.” Roy continues his story sheepishly, smiling fondly at the memory. “And then we uh, went a bit too far… got lost in a cave… We made it back just in time for our next match, but Master Hand really gave us an earful…” He laughs awkwardly, and you find yourself snickering at the idea of Master Hand panicking when he discovered some of his hotshot superstars have gone missing. 

“Who all went with you?”

He counts them off on his fingers as he lists everyone. “Me, Pichu, Young Link, Popo, Nana... oh, and Ness. Pikachu ended up being the one who found us lost in the cave.”

You can just imagine the six of them running in circles trying to find the exit, just to have Pikachu show up and use its familiarity of the region to lead them out in mere minutes. 

...Huh. Funny, most of those six are Smashers that didn’t get invited back every year afterwards. And you remember there had once been rumours that Ness wasn’t going to be invited back to Brawl…

...Eh, probably just a coincidence. Master Hand wouldn’t exclude someone over an incident like that.

“I’m surprised Pikachu didn’t try to get you even more lost on purpose,” you say offhandedly. Roy’s expression is surprisingly contemplative.

“Nah, Pikachu used to be cool back then. Like, sure he liked to hype up the crowd, but outside of matches he was really chill.” He pauses. “I was surprised to find out he kind of became a jerk. Apparently he’s just been that way since the start of Brawl.”

“Really?” And here you thought the first tournament had been the catalyst to its inflated ego, where the electric rodent had won both the singles and the doubles tournaments that season. Pikachu’s record during Melee was pretty average… maybe something else happened between that and Brawl? An event none of the Smashers would have known about? 

Roy shrugs - he’s just in the dark about it as you are - and you notice you’ve arrived at the food court, signalling the end of the conversation. You spot a Pansage, a Panpour, and a Pansear behind a long counter. Pansage takes orders and hands them to the other two monkeys, who then proceed to rush around unnecessarily chaotically to put the order together. This seems like the type of environment where mistakes are easily made, but a lot of people seem to be eating food from here, so apparently they know what they’re doing…?

You end up ordering a Rawst Burger and a lemonade, while Roy gets a corn dog and a soda pop. On your way to finding somewhere to sit, you spot Falco getting his hot dog stolen by the Duck Hunt Dog. You’re glad he’s too far to notice you laughing.

“Look, there’s space at that table!” Your attention is brought back to Roy, who is pointing at a table with only one other person sitting at it. Coincidentally, the spiky blond haired dude there is someone you recognize as part of the Smash crew. Roy takes longer to recognize him - it’s not until you’ve both rounded the table to sit across from the swordsman that he addresses him.

“Oh hey, you’re that guy… uh, Rain, was it?”

When the blond looks up and you see his face, an involuntary snort arises from your throat as you try to hold back laughter.

“It’s Cloud. Cloud Strife.” Apparently they offer facepainting somewhere at the park, because Cloud’s face is covered in ink that resembles a bunny. When combined with his completely serious expression, you have to hide a smile behind your hand as you sit down. 

“Right, that’s it. I knew that.” Roy sits next to you, raising an eyebrow at the swordsman across from you two. “What’s on your face?”

“It’s a rabbit.”

“I guess someone is offering facepainting somewhere?” you clarify helpfully, and Roy’s face lights up in recognition.

“Oh! That sounds fun.” He looks to you with enthusiasm. “Hey, what animal do you think I should get? Heh, probably something fierce, like a lion, or--”

“A puppy,” you reply without hesitation, interrupting his own ideas. Roy looked shocked at your suggestion - almost even offended. Whoops. 

“A-A puppy? Not like… a bigger dog? A wolf, maybe…?”

“I think a puppy would suit you as well,” Cloud agrees. Roy’s jaw drops as he’s left struggling for an objection, but Cloud moves the conversation before he can say anything. “They also do portraits - look.”

He hands you a large rolled up piece of canvas paper that you’ve been curious about for awhile now before returning to picking at his funnel cake (mm, you gotta get one of those later). Roy leans into your personal space to take a look as you unroll it.

Oh my. That is certainly a caricature. 

Roy almost immediately lets out a laugh. “Wo-ow! That would explain your face.”

The canvas blocks your vision so you can’t see Cloud’s face, but you can hear him exhale deeply. Rolling the portrait back up, you place it down on the table.

“I like the style! The art is very clean.” You’ve seen a lot of skill levels in the art found in your mansion, so it’s pretty easy to think outside of “bad” and “good”. Then of course, there’s your own art to consider… yeesh. “I think the artist really captured your character.”

“That’s what I thought,” Cloud responds with a nod, relaxing in the seat. Roy snorts beside you, and you refrain from elbowing him quiet in favour of shooting him a wry look.

“What, you think you could do better?”

Your challenge seems to actually take him off guard, and he fumbles to regain his confidence. “Uh… pfft. Of course. Anyone could do that.” He tries to laugh confidently, but there’s a clear nervous edge to it. Refusing to show him mercy, you play along by feigning amazement.

“Really? Wow, I’d love to see that. Maybe we should have an art show back at the mansion! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“O-Ooh, I mean… You really think people would be interested in that…?”

Cloud recognizes the game you are playing and chimes in with an immediate “I would”. You do a gesture as if to say “see??”, smiling bright and devious until his resolve finally breaks.

“F-Fine! I’ll do it! But don’t say I didn’t warn you, cuz I’m… really good!!” His voice shakes with anxiety at the end, and it takes all you have not to burst out laughing. This is good. This is so good. You’ll have to file this “art show” idea away for down the road, so you can spring it on him again unexpectedly. Although, torture and humiliation aside, you actually suddenly are curious if any of the Smashers are secretly artists. 

“Yes! I’m looking forward to it!” With a grin, you end the conversation by finally picking up your burger and taking a bite into it. Huh, it tastes… fruity. Bitter. Wait, that must be because there are Rawst Berries used in it. Guess you should have seen this coming. You don’t hate it, but the taste has definitely taken you off-guard and you’re not sure you like the mix of meat and berry. 

You must have been making a face because Cloud slides his funnel cake plate halfway across the table. “Here. I probably won’t finish it anyways.”

Forgetting about his previous worries, Roy smiles and reaches for the plate. “Ooh, don’t mind if I do--” To his dismay, Cloud hits his hand away.

“I didn’t offer it to you.”

Roy looks torn. You’d feel bad for him if it wasn’t so funny. Likewise, you usually try to politely decline gifts so as to not seem greedy, but you are enjoying having fun at Roy’s expense. “Thanks!” You put down the burger and reach for a piece of the doughy, sugary treat. Ripping it off, you pop it in your mouth and audibly hum in delight. Hehe, you’re a real devil!! If you wanted to be really mean, you could mention how sad it is that Roy can’t know how good this is, but you are not that cruel. Not right now, at least.

Between stealing chunks of funnel cake and continuing to try finishing the burger (nnnnnope, still tastes weird!), you let your mind wander to thoughts regarding the swordsman across from you. Back in the day, Cloud was a popular request to join the tournament despite existing extremely far away from the bubble of universes Master Hand typically picked from. When he was announced as a surprise participant in the final Super Smash Bros. 4 season tournament, fans exploded with excitement. You were honestly surprised to see him on the list for the Ultimate roster - you hear that Cloud Strife is a tough guy to work with and that’s why he doesn’t make many multiverse appearances despite his popularity. Not even the heads of the more local Playstation All-Stars tournament could get him. Master Hand must have really pulled some strings to get him to participate in Smash not once, but twice.

[...and that is unfortunately all I have. See you next month for chapter 12!]