#which paused for a while before repeating the 'I... love you~' portion

[carriesthewind]

Oh dear.

So as some of you may know, I love to point and laugh at bad legal arguments. And as fun as legal dumpster fires are when they are made by people who aren’t lawyers but think this whole “law” thing seems pretty simple, it’s even funnier when an actual, barred attorney is the person dumping gallons of kerosene into the dumpster.

And oh boy folks, do I have a fun ride for y’all today. Come with me on this journey, as we watch a lawyer climb into the dumpster and deliberately pour kerosene all over himself, while a judge holds a match over his head.

The court listener link is here, for those who want to grab a few bowls of popcorn and read along.

For those of you who don’t enjoy reading legal briefs for cases you aren’t involved with on your day off (I can’t relate), I will go through the highlights here. I will screenshot and/or paraphrase the relevant portion of the briefs, and include a brief explainer of what’s going on (and why it’s very bad, but also extremely funny). (Also, I’m not going to repeat this throughout the whole write-up, so for the record: any statements I make about how the law or legal system works is referring exclusively to the U.S. (And since this is a federal case, we are even more specifically looking at U.S. federal law.) Also, I don’t know how you could construe any of this to be legal advice, but just in case: none of this is, is intended to be, or should be taken as, legal advice.)

First, let’s get just a quick background on the case, to help us follow along. In brief, this is a civil tort suit for personal injury based on defendant’s (alleged) negligence. The plaintiff is suing the defendant (an airline), because he says that he was injured when a flight attendant struck his knee with a metal cart, and the airline was negligent in letting this happen. The airline filed a motion to dismiss on the grounds that there is an international treaty that imposes a time bar for when these kind of cases can be brought against an airline, and the plaintiff filed this case too many years after the incident.

The fun begins when the plaintiff’s attorney filed an opposition to the motion to dismiss. (So far, a good and normal thing to do.) The opposition argues that the claim is not time-barred because 1) the time bar was tolled by the defendant’s bankruptcy proceedings (that is, the timer for the time limitation was paused when the defendant was in bankruptcy, and started again afterwords), and 2) the treaty’s time limit doesn’t apply to this case because the case was filed in state court before the state statute of limitations expired, and the state court has concurrent jurisdiction over this kind of case.

I’m struggling a bit to succinctly explain the second reason, and there’s a reason for that.

You see, the whole opposition reads a bit…oddly.

This is how the opposition begins its argument, and it’s…weird. The basic principle is...mostly correct here, but the actual standard is that when reviewing a motion to dismiss for failure to state a claim (which is what the defendant filed) the court must draw all reasonable factual inferences in the plaintiff’s favor. But even then, you don’t just put that standard in your opposition. You cite to a case that lays out the standard.

Because that’s how courts and the law work. The courts don’t operate just based on vibes. They follow statutory law (laws made by legislature) and case law (the decisions made by courts interpreting what those laws mean). You don't just submit a filing saying, "here's what the law is," without citing some authority to demonstrate that the law is what you say (or are arguing) it is.

Again, this isn’t wrong (although I'm not sure what it means by new arguments?), but it’s weird! And part of the reason it’s weird is that it is irrelevant to the defendant’s motion to dismiss. The defendant filed a motion stating that based on the facts in the complaint, the plaintiff has not stated a claim based on which relief can be granted, because the complaint is time barred by a treaty. There is no reason for this language to be in the opposition. It’s almost like they just asked a chatbot what the legal standards are for a motion to dismiss for a failure to state a claim, and just copied the answer into their brief without bother to double-check it.

The opposition then cites a bunch of cases which it claims support its position. We will skip them for now, as the defendant will respond to those citations in its reply brief.

The last thing in the brief is the signature of the lawyer who submitted the brief affirming that everything in the brief is true and correct. An extremely normal - required, even! - thing to do. This will surely not cause any problems for him later.

The next relevant filing is the defendant’s reply brief. Again, the existence of a reply brief in response to an opposition is extremely normal. The contents of this brief are…less so.

Beg pardon?

Just to be clear, this is not normal. It is normal to argue that the plaintiff’s cases are not relevant, or they aren’t applicable to this case, or you disagree with the interpretations, or whatever. It is not normal for the cases to appear to not exist.

Some highlights from the brief:

Quick lesson in how to read U.S. case citations! The italicized (or underlined) part at the beginning is the name of the case. If it is a trial court case, the plaintiff is listed first and the defendant second; if the case has been appealed, the person who lost at the lower court level (the petitioner/appellant) will be listed first, and the person who won at the lower level (the respondent/appellee) will be listed second. There are extremely specific rules about which words in these names are abbreviated, and how they are abbreviated. Next, you list the volume number and name of the reporter (the place where the case is published), again abbreviated according to very specific rules, then the page number that the case starts on. If you are citing a case for a specific quote or proposition, you then put a comma after the beginning page number, and list the page number(s) on which the quote or language you are relying on is located (this is called a “pincite”). Finally, you put in parenthesis the name of the court (if needed)(and again, abbreviated according to extremely specific rules) and the year the case was decided.

So the plaintiff’s response cited to Zicherman, which they said was a case from 2008 that was decided by the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals. However, the defendant was not able to find such a case. They were able to find a case with the same name (the same petitioner and respondent), but that case was decided by the U.S. Supreme Court in 1996, and the lower court cases associated with that case weren’t in the 11th circuit either. (The United States Reports is the only official reporter for the U.S. Supreme Court, and only includes SCOTUS decisions, so it’s not necessary to include the name of the court before the year it was decided.)

Just to be clear. The defendant’s brief is saying: the plaintiff cited and extensively quoted from these cases, and neither the cases nor the quotations appear to exist. These “cases” were not ancillary citations in the plaintiff’s brief. They were the authority it relied upon to make its arguments.

This is as close a lawyer can come, at this point in the proceedings, to saying, “opposing counsel made up a bunch of fake cases to lie to the court and pretend the law is something different than it is.”

That, “Putting aside that here is no page 598 in Kaiser Steel,” is delightfully petty lawyer speak for, “you are wrong on every possible thing there is to be wrong about.”

By page 5, the defendant has resorted to just listing all of the (apparently) made up cases in a footnote:

(skipping the citations to support this proposition)

This is where I return to my struggle to explain the opposition’s second reason why the motion to dismiss should not be granted. I struggled to explain the argument, because they failed to explain why the argument they were making (that plaintiffs can bring lawsuits against airlines in state court, and the state court have specific statutes of limitations for general negligence claims) was relevant to the question of whether the plaintiff’s specific claim against the airline was time barred by the treaty. Because 1) this case is in federal court, not state court, and 2) federal law - including treaties - preempts state law. Again, it’s almost like plaintiff’s attorney just typed a question about the time bar into a chatbot or something, and the machine, which wasn’t able to reason or actually analyze the issues, saw a question about the time to bring a lawsuit and just wrote up an answer about the statute of limitations.

We also end with a nice little lawyerly version of “you fucked up and we are going to destroy you.” The relief requested in the defendant’s original motion to dismiss was:

In their reply to the opposition, however:

“The circumstances” in this case, being the apparent fabrication of entire cases. Because courts tend to take that pretty seriously.

And the court took it seriously indeed. The defendant’s reply was docketed on March 15th of this year. On April 11th:

AKA: you have one week (an extremely prompt time frame for federal court) to prove to me that you didn’t just make up these cases.

On April 12th, the plaintiff’s attorney requests more time because he’s on vacation:

The judge grants the motion, but adds in another case that he forgot to include in his first order.

On April 25th, the plaintiff’s attorney files the following:

(And he lists the cases, with one exception, which he says is an unpublished decision.)

But he says of all of the cases except two, that the opinions…

Which is…nonsense?

First of all: if you cited a case, you had to get it from somewhere. Even unpublished opinions, if you are citing them in a brief, you are citing them because you pulled them off of westlaw or whatever. Which means you have access to the case and can annex it for the court. (There are even formal rules for how you cite unpublished opinions! And those rules include citing to where you pulled the damn case from!)

Secondly: remember that long digression I went into about how to read case citations? Remember that bit about how you include the name of the reporter (the place the case was published)? Yes, cases are published. They are printed in physical books, and they are published online in databases (e.g. lexis or westlaw). If the specific online database you are looking in does not have the case, you look somewhere else. If you have a judge telling you to get them a copy of the case Or Else, you track down a physical copy of the reporter if you need to and scan the damn thing yourself. You - literally - can’t just not have a copy of the case! (Especially published federal circuit court opinions, which multiple of these cases are! Those aren’t hard to find!)

And what kind of “online database” doesn’t include the entire opinion anyway? I’ve literally never heard of a case research database that only included partial opinions, because that wouldn’t be useful.

Maybe if we look at the attached annexed copies of the cases, that might give us some answers.

...

My friends, these things are just bizarre. With two exceptions, they aren’t submitted in any sort of conventional format. Even if you’ve never seen a legal opinion before, I think you can see the difference if you just glance through the filings. They are located at Docket entry #29 on Court Listener (April 25, 2023). Compare Attachments 6 and 8 (the real cases submitted in conventional format) to the other cases. Turning to the contents of the cases:

In the first one, the factual background is that a passenger sued an airline, then the airline filed a motion to dismiss (on grounds unrelated to the treaty's time bar), then the airline went into bankruptcy, then the airline won the motion to dismiss, then the passenger appealed. And the court is now considering that appeal. But then the opinion starts talking about how the passenger was in arbitration, and it seems to be treating the passenger like he is the one who filed for bankruptcy? It’s hallucinatory, even before you get to the legal arguments. The “Court of Appeals” is making a ruling overruling the district court’s dismissal based on the time bar, but according to the factual background, the case wasn’t dismissed based on the time bar, but on entirely other grounds? Was there some other proceeding where the claim was dismissed as time barred, and it’s just not mentioned in the factual background? How? Why? What is happening? Also it says Congress enacted the treaty? But, no? That’s…that’s not how treaties work? I mean, Congress did ratify the treaty? But they didn’t unilaterally make it!

In the second case, there’s an extended discussion of which treaty applies to the appellants claims, which is bizarre because there are two relevant treaties, and one replaced the other before the conduct at issue, so only the new treaty applies? There isn’t any discussion of the issue beyond that basic principle, so there is no reason there should be multiple paragraphs in the opinion explaining it over and over? Also, it keeps referring to the appellant as the plaintiff, for some reason? And it includes this absolutely hallucinatory sentence:

…the only part this that makes sense is that the argument is without merit. I’m not going to discuss the actual merits of the legal arguments in the opinion, because they are so bizarre and disjointed that even trying to describe them would require a Pepe Silvia-sized conspiracy board. Like the previous case, both the facts and the legal posture of the case change constantly, with seemingly no rhyme or reason.

The third one…oh boy. First, large portions of the “opinion” are individual paragraphs with quotations around the whole paragraph. What’s happening there? As far as the content of the opinion itself - I can’t. I mean that, I literally can’t. What is being discussed seems to change from paragraph to paragraph, much of it contradicting. It makes the first case seem linear and rational by comparison. The court finds it doesn’t have personal jurisdiction over the defendant so dismisses the case based on a lack of subject matter jurisdiction? But also the defendant hasn’t contested jurisdiction? And also the court does hold that it has both subject matter and personal jurisdiction over the defendant? And then it denies the motion to dismiss the case? Also, at one point it cites itself?

…also, even if this was a real case, it doesn’t stand for the propositions the plaintiff cited it for in their opposition? I’m not going to go into the weeds (honestly it’s so hallucinatory I’m not sure I could if I tried), but, for example, the plaintiff’s reply brief states that the court held “that the plaintiff was not required to bring their claim in federal court.” The U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia is a federal court, and there is no discussion of any filings in state courts. The closest the “opinion” comes is with the statement, “Therefore, Petersen’s argument that the state courts of Washington have concurrent jurisdiction is unavailing.” (This statement appears to be completely disconnected from anything before or after it, so I am unsure what it is supposed to mean.)

Moving on, case number four is allegedly a decision by the Court of Appeals of Texas. It includes the following line:

Honestly, the plaintiff’s attorney best defense at this point is that he wasn’t intentionally trying to mislead the court, because if he was doing this on purpose, he would have edited the cases to make them slightly more believable. (Context in case you’ve lost track: these documents are supposed to be copies of the opinions he is citing. The screenshoted line makes it clear that what he is actually citing is, at best, someone else’s summary of an "opinion". It would be like if a teacher asked a student to photocopy a chapter of a book and bring it into class, and instead the student brought in a copy of the cliffs notes summary of that chapter. Except that the book doesn’t even exist.)

The actual contents of the “opinion” are, as is now standard, absolutely bonkers. First, the court decides that it doesn’t have personal jurisdiction over Delta because “Delta did not purposefully avail itself of the benefits of conducting business in Texas.” This was despite the fact that the factual background already included that the appellant (sorry, the plaintiff, according to the “opinion”) flew on a Delta flight originating in Texas. Like, this is just wrong? It’s not even hallucinatory nonsense, it’s just facially incorrect legal analysis. Then the court starts discussing the treaty’s time bar, for some reason? Then it goes back to talking about personal jurisdiction, but now the trial court denied the defendant’s motion to dismiss for lack of personal jurisdiction, and the appellate court agrees with the trial court that it does have personal jurisdiction, even though this is the plaintiff’s appeal from the dismissal for lack of personal jurisdiction and the court already ruled it didn’t have personal jurisdiction? And even though on page 1, the plaintiff was injured during a flight from Texas to California, now on page 7 she was injured on a flight from Shanghai to Texas? Also the trial court has gone back in time (again) to grant the motion to dismiss that it previously denied?

Also, I’ve been trying to avoid pointing out the wonky text of these submissions, but:

Everything ok there?

Case number five is similar enough to number four that it’s not worth repeating myself.

Thank god, cases six and eight, as noted above, are real cases, so I’m going to skip them. The defendant alleges that the cases do not stand for the propositions the plaintiff cited them for, and I’m going to assume that is true, given the rest of this nonsense.

Case number seven looks legitimate on the surface. But neither the defendant nor I could find the case through any legitimate search mechanisms. The defendant looked up the purported docket numbers on PACER and found completely different cases; I was able to find a case with the name “Miller v. United Airlines, Inc.,” but it was for a different Ms. Miller, it was a California state case (not a Second Circuit federal case), it was decided on a different year, and the substance of the case was entirely different from the alleged opinion filed with the court.

On top of that, this might be the most morally reprehensible fake citation of them all? Because it is about the crash of United Airlines Flight 585, a real plane crash. Everyone on board - 25 people in total - was killed. 

The individual cited in this fake court case was not one of them.

I cannot imagine conducting myself in such a way where I would have to explain to a judge that I made up a fake case exploiting a real tragedy because I couldn’t be bothered to do actual legal research.

Now, I know you all have figured out what’s going on by now. And I want you to know that if your instincts are saying, “it seems like the lawyer should have just fallen on his sword and confessed that he relied on ChatGPT to write his original brief, rather than digging himself further into this hole”? Your instincts are absolutely correct.

Because obviously, the court was having none of this b.s. On May 4th, the court issued an order, beginning with the following sentence:

That is one of the worst possible opening sentences you can see in an order by the court in a situation like this. The only thing worse is when judges start quoting classic literature. If I was Mr. Peter LoDuca, counsel for the plaintiff, I would already be shitting my pants.

“I gave you an opportunity to either clear things up or come clean. Now I’m going to give you an opportunity to show why I should only come down on you like a pile of brinks, instead of a whole building.”

We are getting dangerously close to “quoting classic lit” territory here.

If I learned that the judge in my case called up the clerk of a circuit court just to confirm how full of shit I was, I would leave the legal profession forever. Also, the judge is now also putting quotes around “opinion.” When judges start getting openly sarcastic in their briefs, that means very very bad things are about to happen to someone.

So I’m guessing the delay between this filing and the court order was because the judge’s clerk was tasked with running down every single one of the additional fake citations included in the "opinions", just to make this sure this order (and the upcoming pile of bricks) are as thorough as possible.

If you are following along with Dracula Daily, the vibe here is roughly the same as the May 19th entry where Dracula demands Jonathan Harker write and pre-date letters stating he has left the castle and is on the way home.

Also, hey, what’s that footnote?

Wait, what?

Folks, it appears we may have notary fraud, on top of everything else! Anybody have bingo?

So on May 25, one day before the deadline, Mr. LoDuca filed his response. And oh boy, I hope ya’ll are ready for this.

Hey, what’s the name of that other attorney, “Steven Schwartz”? Where have I seen that name before…

...I ran out of room for images on this post. So I'm going to have to leave this as an accidental cliffhanger. Part 2 to follow once I refresh my tea.

[txemptress]

They call her an odd woman.

Because only an odd woman would spend hours and hours on end by the graveyards without the public knowing what she's doing there.

Because only an odd woman would be seen talking to herself like she is with someone but she is actually alone. Her lips always moving as though she is praying perhaps she was, that's just what the public speculated.

And because only an odd woman would love someone who has been dead for a near decade, someone who was barely her lover in the first place.

She is an odd woman in the eyes of the public. But to her, she is as normal as could be. delusional, perhaps, but still normal.

Fingers clenching the basket of food she brought with her, she gets off of the vehicle. Nodding towards those who were bypassing, she walks into the graveyards once more. She need not tell her servants anything, they know to wait there patiently and leave her be. Only they understand her situation which is private just as how she likes it.

She lays the picnic mat neatly on the moss covered ground as she sits on it and wipes off the dust that covered the gravestone she sits in front of.

Name. She smiles softly, tears pricking in her eyes. Today is the anniversary of his death. "Hello, Name. I brought your favourite food today, shall we eat?" She whispers hoarsely as she takes the food out of the basket, body trembling from the restraint to cry.

"Here." She takes out a little portion of food and faced it to the gravestone while she too takes a little portion. She eats quietly, the silence is deafening and it hurts her. "How is it? It's good, isn't it? The chef made it special for you." Her lips quiver but she stays strong. She will not show her tears.

She glances at the stone, the food before it was untouched. Of course it was. "Not hungry? It's okay, the chef will understand." She pulls the plate away from the stone and carefully packs it back in the basket. There's a pause before she continues to speak.

"Father and Mother miss you a lot. So does your brother." She says as she continues eating, "I miss you too. But I'm trying to stay strong for our Adrianna." Tears glisten in her eyes as she fights back their threatening release.

"Sometimes I see you in my room. I'm not sure if it's you, of course but I'm positive that it is." She gives out a heartbreaking laugh. "Adrianna says she sees you too, she says she misses you a lot." She adds afterwards, putting down the fork she was using to eat. "If only you were there to see her during her first dance, your brother danced her instead. But I think she would've wanted that you were the one to dance with her instead."

She remembers her daughter's words during that night. She had been crying, wanting her daddy instead of her uncle. But Name died years ago so it was impossible. She had tried reasoning by instead they had both found each other clinging onto one another, sobbing.

But, eventually, she did learn to enjoy her party. She was proud of her daughter's ability to mature quickly and make the best out of what she had.

She leans against the stone as her finger traces the engraved name on its face. "Why'd you have to die so soon?" She murmurs quietly. "You promised you'd be back safe and sound but you didn't. We had so many things we wanted to do together. A family to build." She blinks the tears away but it's futile as they began streaming down her tears.

"You promised..." She repeats, choking on the sobs that were escaping her lips. She continues sobbing and shaking uncontrollably while her hand clenches on the stone.

She wiped her tears away and presses a kiss on the stone, wiping her lips afterwards too. "I love you, Name. I still love you. I want you here with me. Please come back to me." She begs softly, even though she knew it was a futile pleading. Suddenly the wind blew breezily to her direction, as though it was an answer from her beloved.

It calms her immediately as her shaking draws to a slow stop. She softly sighs as she moves back, fixing the things. She stares back to the stone and gives a sad smile. "I'll try to visit you on the morrow again if I can."

She stands up, carrying the basket with her. She walks to the entrance of the graveyard where a guard is stationed. She nods to him before she walks out. The coachman waits by the vehicle. He saw her and immediately readied to leave. A step onto the vehicle and then she pauses. One more long glance towards the stone before she turns away and enters the vehicle. Her lips tremble as she hears herself echo two words.

"Goodbye, Name."

➷ ( characters ) — cayena hill , rudbeckia de borgia , psyche callista , penelope eckart , lesley vance , raiden ei , yor forger , mikasa ackerman , sasha braus. ❀

➷ ( tags ) — none. ‘ ask to be tagged ’. ❀

[ishouldgetatumbler]

"I'm going to be somewhat less strict than many of your teachers here. I am purely invested in your education, which means trying to meet you halfway. So if you have to go to the bathroom, get a drink, stretch your legs, whatever, just get up and go. Just come back okay? Passing this class will be very easy as long as you are in class for most of it."

And that was all the eye contact Danny could stand before his hand started to doodle and his eyes made a break for the page. He wrote the date on instinct; then stared at it. He erased the day, then paused. He erased the month, then wrote the correct date.

"Now for grading, exams are not as big of a deal on my class. Exams are about five percent of your grade. In addition homework isn't really... feasible? So don't worry about that. What will make a big chunk of grade is classwork, which is mostly answering when called on, raising your hand, asking questions, and showing up. Really just showing up and showing me all your lovely beautiful faces should be enough in my book, but for the stiffs upstairs you know-"

The teacher stopped, like they were expecting the class to laugh. It was silent. Danny was just drawing lines. Long, zagging, looping trailing lines. The teacher recovered swiftly.

"Chatty bunch. Well I guess that's fair, its first day jitters and all, and I am making it sound like this class is breeze, so what's the catch right? Most of your grade is tied up in what we're supposed to call 'labs' but I prefer to call it 'live practice.' I don't want you to get too worried about results, it's alot more about 'mucking in' as they say. Just show me you're making an effort and improving because, hey, we're all learning right?"

Squiggling lines has lost its therapeutic effect. Danny moved on to drawing his instructor farting while being struck by lightning, exclaiming "YOWCH!" His personal explanation was that they stank so much god saw fit to punish them.

"I know this class gets a bad reputation, and heck the entire business, especially in America, for those of you from there, but all I'm looking for is participation. And hey, guys, eyes here? I'm gonna get up on my soapbox here."

Danny looked up from his half completed drawing of himself as a demon-cat hybrid. He made eye contact with the glaring intensity of the instructor.

"Torture is important okay? You may not use it in your day to day life, but it teaches you important ways of thinking, and 'enhanced interrogation' as we're supposed to call it DOES work, but it's not a science and its not shopping for yoga pants. You can't repeat the same test on a different subject and get the same results, and its not one size fits all."

That was all Danny could take before his lunch made a run for it and he curled over his desk and covered his mouth with a clammy hand. His swirling, sloshing lines made his nausea only worse. Somehow he'd forgotten Vlad picked the school. The teacher on his paper exclaimed "YOWCH!"

"Teacher?"

"Yes, Mr...?"

"Wayne-Al Ghul"

Shoes tak-tak'ed on the floor as the instructor stepped back to the desk at the front of the room, and scrawled a check on the attendance.

"Yes Damian?" They asked finally.

"May I be excused on the basis of experience? I feel this introductory course has nothing to teach me." Damian said promptly and matter-of-factually.

The teacher sharply exhaled in amusement, then said "Well, like I said before, I believe we're all learning. Every year I teach this class I learn something new. Heck I have learned more teaching than I ever did in the business. Really, it's about approach. Everyone can learn something from someone else's approach, and even if it isn't mine or one of the ones I teach you, I am certain you can learn something from your classmates."

Danny was finally starting to figure out why he was so damn nauseous. The words were disgusting of course, but hearing yourself talked about like veal to be dissected and portioned guilt up an immunity to that. No, this was something more.

Ghosts are more like an ecosystem than a living thing. When you die, all your thoughts get split up up into a million different mini ghosts. When someone has all of their thoughts and emotions tied into one thing, they stay somewhat as they were after death, but most people break up. Those break ups leave some small amount of stragglers, who can't or haven't yet made it to the ghost zone.

The room was covered in little ghosts. Caked in them, floor to ceiling like the whole room is painted in a thin, semi-transparent sheen of death. He hadn't even noticed. He just assumed the paint was discolored.

"Ah, yes, you have a question Mr...?"

"Fowl."

"Ah, Artemis, I see you on my attendance sheet. Isn't that-"

"A girls name, yes. Why are we being taught to torture?" The small pale boy asked.

Internally, the nausea abated slightly: finally someone was asking sane questions. His rendition of himself as a demon cat smiled at him from the page.

"It's like having a lesson on how to smash a computer screen. Or a demonstration on how to burn fine art. Why use such wasteful destruction when a fine eye for detail will suss the computer's password, or the painting's secret?"

The teacher sighed before replying "because sometimes art is dangerous, and sometime you need to smash a computer. Assuming you already have all the tools to solve every problem in your future will do you no good."

Artemis snorted but did not offer a reply.

"Right. Do we have any questions that are not 'why do I have to take this stupid class?'"

The room was silent and coated in thin, viscous death.

"Great, I'm going to be passing out your packets, these will contain some practice quizzes and any of the reading for this semester. You'll get another packet in the winter and spring."

The teacher laid a thick stack of stapled papers on Danny's desk, then paused. Danny looked up in terror into their slightly excited face, as the hand on his desk pushed the packet out of the way and pulled out Danny's paper.

They nodded appropriately at the contents of the paper, then held it up for the class.

"See this?" they said, pointing to the drawing of themself being hit by lightning and flatulence, "even something like this indicates to me that you are invested, that you're paying attention and that you're thinking about what I'm saying."

"Is that a demon cat?" someone blurted out.

And that was all it took, the bottom fell out of Danny's stomach and he hurled.

[lizhly-writes]

welp. another weird au for you.

Dinner tonight was healthier than what Chen Lihua would grab on her own, but then again, dinner was always healthier when her brother was in charge. He was always better about eating well. Eating poorly, according to him, would mean that they’d have less energy to beat the shit out of people who were bothering them, which, well. Fair point.

“Eat more,” Chen Liwei said irritably, dumping a heaping portion of tomato eggs into her rice bowl. “You normally eat more than this, what’s wrong with you? Do you suddenly hate my cooking now? Hey, are you sick?”

Chen Lihua swallowed down the absolute first thing she wanted to say --- stop fussing, you’re never going to be Mom --- and instead said, “I’m just thinking, it’s not like I’m not eating at all.

“I didn’t know that you could think,” Chen Liwei sniped.

“I’m just thinking,” Chen Lihua repeated, “that we need to kill Shang Chun.”

Chen Liwei paused, halfway through bringing a teacup to his mouth. Deliberately, he set it down with a soft click. “Why are we killing Shang Chun?”

Shang Chun was one of their coworkers at the absurdly nice fancy restaurant that they worked at. A decent worker that got good tips because he was good at sweet-talking the rich people that ate there. Chen Lihua and Chen Liwei had both been annoyed by it --- both the groveling and by how well it actually worked. What was his secret into groveling his way into luxury? They’d both like to know, and Chen Lihua would absolutely try to smile her way into getting the answer if Shang Chun wasn’t scum.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” she said.

Chen Liwei scoffed. “If we killed everybody who looked at us weird, we’d be alone on this planet.”

This was true. A lot of people gave them weird looks. This was because they tended to have very strong opinions upon meeting either of the Chen twins. Unnaturally so, Chen Lihua had thought. She had spent some time wondering if they were cursed by the universe. Their relationships… never turned out great.

Speaking of which.

“Shang Chun likes you,” Chen Lihua said.

It was obvious enough. Longing looks, that eager way he stood to attention whenever Chen Liwei needed something. Shang Chun, out of all their coworkers, hung around Chen Liwei the most. He actually tried talking to Chen Liwei on a regular basis, despite the obvious downsides of Chen Liwei’s entire personality, and the one time he’d said something funny enough to make Chen Liwei laugh, Shang Chun had spent the rest of the day looking like he’d achieved nirvana.

It would be cute, if the Chen twins weren’t the Chen twins.

‘Like?’ That was too neutral of an emotion. ‘Love?’ As if they were that lucky.

There was no such thing as a happy ending for the Chen twins. Six years of disaster had taught them well.

“The fuck are you talking about,” Chen Liwei said, and then, a little more thoughtfully, “hmm.”

“And that’s why we have to kill him,” Chen Lihua said. “Before he starts with the crazy.”

It was nice being liked. Being loved, for a short while. People could be sweet, when they wanted to be, all beautiful words and gentle touches. It felt good, having someone think you were important, precious, the best thing in the world.

And then it would go horribly wrong.

Chen Liwei took it harder than Chen Lihua. For all that Chen Lihua was outwardly nicer, it was Chen Liwei that was the optimist. Chen Lihua found silver linings; it was a different thing than having hope. For all that he bitched, there was still that little tiny part of him that hoped things would be better. It was, oh, maybe about 2% of him, that hoped that maybe this time would be different --- that maybe their newest suitor wouldn’t turn into an obsessive maniac or die a horrible death.

It had never happened so far. Chen Liwei got so angry whenever people disappointed him like this. He was losing hope. Chen Lihua wished he would lose it quicker; the more he hoped, the more he was setting himself up for disappointment.

You took what the universe gave you. If it was some infatuated fool longing for their company for a few months, fine --- enjoy the attention while you could, and sharpen your axe for when it started going bad.

After all, the only people the Chen twins could ever trust were each other.

“Murder is illegal,” Chen Liwei said, one corner of his mouth turning down. He’d been fond of Shang Chun. Chen Lihua had been fond of Shang Chun, too, but she’d known better than to get attached.

“Aw, did you like him back,” Chen Lihua jeered, and ducked when he swatted at her head.

“Shut up, who likes who?” Chen Liwei snapped. “Fucking as if.”

“Getting so worked up when I say we need to kill him,” Chen Lihua said.

Chen Liwei snorts. “What, you've got a plan?”

“I’m just saying. It’s only illegal if we get caught.”

[drifting-wreckers]

See the Light, Chapter 6: But of All of the Demons I've Known

Cardinal Copia/Papa Emeritus IV x OFC: romance, drama, NSFW, 18+, MDNI, sort of doctor/patient

To say Evelyn was having an emotional roller coaster of a day would be to put it mildly. The heart-wrenching panic of realizing she was in love with Copia followed almost immediately by the realization that he loved her, as well…followed then by passion and then the ice cold bath that was the branded grucifix on her skin. She stared down at it, having since cleaned up but found herself staring at the puckered skin in the bathroom mirror. Copia watched her quietly, shirtless but with pants back on as he leaned against the door frame. The brand repeatedly drew his own eye downward, and he felt his palms burn and his dick twitch which subsequently made his jaw tighten. That was certainly not anything he had ever read about the Prime Movers before.

Evelyn schooled her breathing: in through the nose slowly, out through the mouth. On counts of five. She had already had her first panic attack in a long time earlier that day, she did not need another. While she had reviled at the thought of another woman as his Prime Mover, Evelyn had not even considered the role for herself. This was child birth and children, they were talking about, it was not a decision she took lightly. She hadn’t even decided if she had wanted children at all, having never been presented with a man who gave her an inkling to consider it. And now…it felt like that choice was taken away from her, and it made her squeamish.

She dropped the shirt she had pulled on – an old tee Copia had even forgotten he owned that just barely covered her ass – and gripped the edge of the countertop. Her gaze found his in the mirror and he quirked a forced smile.

“Well, eh…you didn’t want to see me with anyone else, so uh…I guess that helps?”

The withering glare she shot him made him wince. “Not. Funny.” She sighed and straightened before turning to lean back against the sink, arms crossed under her chest. “Have you ever heard of this happening?”

He echoed her sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. “The original texts talk about it, si, but as far as I know nobody has seen it actually happen in centuries.”

Her brow quirked. “Centuries.” She repeated and he echoed it once more. She ran her hand through her hair in exasperation. “And The Dark One had to choose now to make this a comeback?” she huffed. Their eyes met again and she exhaled another sigh. “Copia, I love you, believe me when I say I do…but…a Prime Mover? I haven’t even decided if I want children, yet…and now He’s the one who decides it for me?”

“Evelyn, amore, andra bene…It will be okay,” he murmured, closing the distance between them to cup her face gently. “We will figure this out…I will dig up everything that I can about the lore of Prime Movers, we do not have to worry about children until you decide you are ready…” he paused a moment. “If you decide.” He kissed her sweetly. “In the meantime, I will just have to keep my dick to myself, eh?”

At that, she finally cracked a smile, a genuine laugh passing her lips that made him grin, as well. “I think we’ll both have issues with you keeping your dick to yourself,” she teased and he groaned dramatically.

“Si, amore, you are too right…well…even The Old One, Himself, cannot penetrate condoms, no? At least until I figure out just how, uh…powerful this magic is.”

She allowed her smile to broaden, pressing a kiss to his lips once more. “Condoms are old faithful, after all. Protect against sexually transmitted diseases, pregnancy…a barrier between yourself and The Old One…”

His hands fell to her waist and he nodded. “Also, cara mia, do not underestimate the influence of the Prime Movers…you may not be too sure of the, uh…child, portion, but historically, they were powerful women who led alongside church leaders. And that,” he tapped the tip of her nose, “…you would be perfect for.”

She scrunched her nose and rested her forehead against his shoulder. “You’re taking this much better than I am.”

He chuckled and pulled her into a warm embrace. “I knew my feelings for you quite some time ago, cara mia…and while I do think raising children with you would be…” he paused, took in the flush on her cheeks and smiled quietly. “…anyway, I’m not the one with the weight of carrying and birthing a child…just supporting you through it should you decide to do just that.”

She groaned and shook her head. “You really have to be better at saying the wrong thing,” she mused, half-joking as he chuckled, hands coasting along her back.

“I will work on that, amore…”

“Uh, hey, Boss?”

Evelyn flinched, eyes wide as a third voice joined them, to which he shushed her gently. “It is just Aether Ghoul, it is okay.” He released her and exited the bathroom to find said ghoul standing in the middle of his office space. “What is it, Aether?”

“Uh, well-…” he paused, chin tilted up as he sniffed the air. His eyes widened, pupils sharp behind his mask as Evelyn rounded the corner and he promptly dropped to a knee. “A True Prime Mover,” he murmured with a level of awe that made her flush.

“W-what?”

Copia quirked a brow, looking between Evelyn and the ghoul. “Aether…how did you know this?”

“True Prime Movers carry a distinctive scent: The Old One mixed with their Papa, and something uniquely, uh…feminine…the older ghouls know it well, though we haven’t seen this in centuries.” He glanced up from Evelyn to Copia. “I thought I smelled an inkling of it on you the other day but I didn’t think it was possible.”

Evelyn sighed heavily and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Aether, please…get up. I’m a mess as it is, anyway…and now I have to know that the ghouls can all tell.”

Aether’s eerie grin was comical. “If it makes you feel any better, I think there’s only a few around the abbey that will actually know what they’re smelling…but anything you say, Boss Lady. We are all at your service.”

She drew her shoulders back. “Then make sure the ghouls that know don’t say any of this to anyone.” Aether felt his shoulders tighten, the weight of her order – as that was what it was – just as powerful as that of Copia’s. “Everyone should act like nothing is different until we get this…figured out.”

Pride permeated Copia’s chest, the way she spoke so commanding without her even realizing it. He and Aether exchanged glances and knowing smirks.

“I will pass that along as soon as I’m out of here, Boss Lady. But I did come here with some warning.”

Copia stepped forward again. “Warning?”

Aether winced. “Imperator is on the rampage…again. Looking for you mighty intently, if you know what I mean.”

The couple exchanged glances and Evelyn groaned. “Fuck,” she hissed, starting to move to grab her clothing, robes and mask scattered around the room. “Aether, do you think you’d be able to get me back to the infirmary without being seen?”

Copia frowned as the ghoul nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Amore mio, I should walk you-…” Not only had she cut him off, but he admittedly became momentarily distracted by her ass disappearing behind her own pants. He became aware of another set of eyes watching her in surprise, turned and spotted Aether before glaring sharply and shooing his gaze off her with a hand gesture.

“…no, C…Imperator is looking for you. Aether can get me back to the infirmary, and you can intercept her…wherever. The last thing she needs is to see us coming out of your room together…and with your paints smudged like that.”

Aether took in the smeared lines and smirked. “Boss Lady’s got a point, Boss…”

He cursed. “Shut up, Aether…fine.” Once she had dressed, her robes on and about to replace her mask, Copia stepped forward to press one more deep, slow kiss to her lips. “Te amo, amore mio… ti vedrò presto.”

The edge to her shoulders eased and she nodded slowly. “I will see you later, Papa.”

Evelyn and Aether made the cautious, roundabout trek back to the infirmary. The first part of their walk had been in companionable silence, though she could feel Aether glancing at her from the corner of his eye quite regularly.

“Aether…if you have something to ask or say, please just do it. I can feel you watching me and it’s getting unsettling.”

He laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Er, sorry…it’s just, uh…still amazing to me. I don’t think you fully appreciate just how much this means.”

She laughed in disbelief as she let her masked face tilt up into the sun as they crossed into the courtyard, eyes closing against the bright rays.

“I don’t think I do, Aether…I admit that. It’s…it’s hard to fathom, especially when I didn’t even know this was how Prime Movers were actually determined.”

Aether hummed thoughtfully. “You know…there’s been something about Copia since I met him…he’s just got a way about him and something that makes me think that The Dark One has had big plans for him.”

Her fingers twined together, deep in thought, but before she could formulate a response, she stumbled into a figure that radiated an uncomfortable amount of heat. She cursed on reflex and apologized as she found her balance and then her gaze met that of…another ghoul, considerably smaller than Aether. The amount of mischief he radiated was concerning, to say the least. His tail thrashed about in excitement. Aether almost groaned.

“Well, fuck me sideways, Aeth. We were right!” He circled her slowly and Evelyn could feel herself tensing. Her jaw clenched.

“Dew, don’t, seriously-…”

The Fire Ghoul paid him no heed. “Way to go Papa, though, right? I mean, c’mon…not only did he land a real Prime Mover,” Evelyn shushed him sharply, looking around the courtyard where a scant number of Siblings were strolling about, luckily far enough away that there was no way they were in hearing distance. “…but she’s a doctor, too!”

Aether also cautiously looked around. “Dew…you need to stop, I’m telling you-…”

Dewdrop paused on his path around her, head cocked as he peered into her mask. “I mean, I guess the only thing is she could be, kinda, y’know…fugly under all that. But if Cope is hittin’ that regularly, I guess not.”

Aether groaned and Evelyn sighed a “For fuck’s sake” as Dew started circling again.

“You know, though…I forget how good Lilith smells.” His nose trailed along the back of her shoulders from left to right. “That is…that scent…” His tone dropped, and his face leaned towards the crook of her neck.

“Alright, that’s enough,” she hissed, and her tone changed again. “Have some fucking respect, would you?” Both ghouls froze. “All this shit about Prime Movers and your ‘respect’ is to suggest I’m…fugly?” Dew wanted to laugh, because honestly, he did think it was a pretty good line…but the sound wouldn’t come out. “You should kneel to show some respect after all the shit that came out of your mouth.”

Abruptly, Dew was on his knees in front of her before he could blink. He stared up at her, dumbfounded, and, if he was honest, a little starry-eyed. Controlling a fire ghoul wasn’t exactly something easy and yet he couldn’t fight it even if he tried. Aether, on the other hand, was in hysterics as Evelyn stared down at the fire ghoul just as awed as Dew was. This power was definitely…different.

She could also feel the makings of a migraine starting and sighed.

“Just…keep your mouth shut, Dewdrop,” she hissed, glancing around the courtyard uncomfortably one more time. “Papa and I…are figuring things out. No one can know in the meantime.”

“Yes, ma’am…” When he realized he still couldn’t rise to his feet, he shuffled a bit. “Could I…could I maybe…get up now?”

She stared at him a moment and shrugged. “After that fugly comment, give it five more minutes and then you can go,” she muttered before side stepping around him to proceed back into the main abbey building. Dew muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “I deserved that, I guess” while Aether composed himself.

“For the record,” he started before leaning closer to Dew’s ear. “She is the exact opposite of fugly. Boss has it made. Her ass is-…”

“I heard that, Aether!”

~

AO3 Link

[bulgariansumo]

“Feel the beat and dance through the all night long,

Won’t you share this night? That’s what I feel for you,

It feels good, so I don’t wanna lose you...”

(Crystal Night, 1987)

[astaroth1357]

I don’t know if this’ll make the cut, but brothers with an MC wearing their (the brothers) clothes, and I’m talking full ensemble not just a random jacket or accessory (you can delete if you’re not comfortable of course)

So when left with the question of whether this was a full on clothing theft or a cosplay of some kind, I'm going with theft because that's just funnier to me. Just a little MC marching around in Beel's tent of an outfit… Hilarious. 🤭

MC Steals the Brothers’ Outfits

Lucifer 

It started out like any other morning, Lucifer woke up early in bed - as he always does - but when he rolled onto his side to stir the MC, he found their side of the bed empty… 

Normally, he’d have thrown up the alarm in an instant, but his mind was still groggy as he tried to recall what happened the night before… He could have sworn the MC slept over… unless…

MC: “Good morning, love.”

Their voice was enough to get him sitting up again and he uh… well he was not prepared for what he saw. The MC was sitting with their legs crossed at his desk, attempting to imitate his “I’m-in-Complete-Control-Here” energy as much as they possibly could, but with an added detail…

They were wearing his clothes. His favorite suit to be specific which was tailored to his much bigger frame, resulting in a frankly ridiculously ill-fitting look on their smaller human body...

MC: *picks up a poisoned apple off the desk, continuing their very best Lucifer-impression*  “You should get up, love. We have an early meeting today and we can’t keep Lord Diavolo waiting.”

The MC appeared to polish the apple with his sleeve for a moment before taking a bite, looking pleased with themselves before their eyes widened in complete horror. It only took a split second for them to spit the unchewed hunk of apple into a nearby waste basket and toss the apple away in panic.

MC: “Ah FUCK!! I forgot I can’t eat these!!! SHIT!!”

Their panic only grew as Lucifer could no longer hold in his laughter, the booming volume of which is enough to wake up all his brothers throughout the House.

MC: “Lucifer, don’t just sit there laughing!! Bring me some water or something!!! LUCIFER!!!”

Mammon

Look, Mammon always gets up late so not being able to find, like, any of his normal clothes was a serious problem! He’d already dug through half his closest and still couldn’t find anything!!

He had a photoshoot that he had to get to in less than hour and he still needed to take a shower, get dressed, get his stuff together, then bolt halfway across town before-

MC: *literally kicks open his door Kuzco-style* “Yo, yo, yo!! What’s up, Mammon??”

First off, the sudden loud bang of his door hitting the wall nearly scared him out of his skin, but before he could even yell at the MC for their weird entrance his brain had to process what they were wearing….

Good news! He found his missing clothes, the MC had thrown them on while he was sleeping - sunglasses and all - and now stood before him with a toothy grin on their face.

MC: “What's the problem, Mams? Lucifer got your tongu-EEEK!”

Apparently, they weren't expecting Mammon to literally lunge at them and capture them in a tight hug, practically lifting them off their feet with a laugh.

Mammon: “What'cha think your doin', MC?? I'm gonna need those back ya know?”

MC: *laughs loud and bright, throwing their arms around his neck* “I know, I know... But I wanted to surprise you!” *stops laughing suddenly and blinks* “Huh…”

Mammon watched the MC experimentally lift his glasses off their nose then put them back down, repeating the action several times before snickering.

Mammon: *frowns* “What's so funny?”

MC: “Nothing really but… Mammon, do you wear these just to make everything look like gold?”

Mammon actually had to pause before responding, pulling the MC closer with a devilish grin.

Mammon: “Nah… I ‘cause got all the gold I need right here~”

MC: *chuckles and nuzzles his cheek* “Nice save...”

Mammon: *his cheeks flush and he frowns* “I dunno what your talkin’ about... But could ya go put on a t-shirt or somethin’? They’re paying me big for this shoot and I really gotta go!”

Leviathan 

Another convention, another cosplay far too complex to ever hope to peel out of… Though Levi would never regret wearing his five piece Lord of Shadow cosplay, it’s a heavy thing and certainly not something he can change out of in a bathroom stall…

When he finally got back to the House, he wasn’t looking to do anything but drag his tired body back to his room and change into some more manageable clothes… but… well…

When Levi opened his door, he saw the MC sitting alone at his computer desk playing a game by themselves. That was all well and good but… WHY IN DIAVOLO’S BLACK HELL ARE THEY WEARING HIS CLOTHES???

When they heard the door, the MC whipped their head back and they both stared at each other in an awkward silence… His clothes didn’t even fit them right!-or maybe they did?? His mind was panicking because they had the collar of his shirt covering their mouth and it looked so moe it was actually ridiculous!

Levi: ……….

MC: ………….

MC: …. “I can explain.”

Levi: ……. “Y-yea?”

MC: “I was having trouble on this one level and you wouldn’t pick up the phone… so I thought ‘What would Levi do?’... and it escalated…”

Levi: “You think??”

Levi felt like he could die right there, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was from embarrassment or happiness… On the one hand, the MC was  literally trying to be him in order to get better at video games - which was flatteringly adorable… And on the other, the MC is pretty much cosplaying as him, right in front of him… and looked so damn cute doing it too… 

MC: “Is this weird…? This is weird. I’m sorry, I’ll go change-”

Levi: NO-agh! *he throws a hand over his own mouth, surprised by how loud he just shouted* … “U-uh… no it’s fine…”

MC: “Okay...?”

MC: “But could you put your phone down? I think you’ve been taking pictures for the past two minutes…”

Levi looked down at his hand and sure enough he unconsciously pulled out his phone in camera mode and has been spamming the “Capture” button long enough to have his thumb cramping...

Levi: “Oh.” *stops for a moment, then seems to second guess himself*

Levi: “Uh… just one more?”

Satan

When you share a house with Mammon, you grow accustomed to not being able to find things from time to time, but an entire outfit?? 

When he woke up one morning to find that he couldn't find any of his normal clothes, he blamed Mammon right off the bat… 

I guess in hindsight, what would Mammon want with his jacket? But anger doesn't always jump to the most rational conclusion, you know?

After searching for "long enough," Satan stormed out of his bedroom on a warpath. He didn't stop his march until he was banging on Mammon’s door with a closed fist!

Satan: “Mammon!! What did you do with my clothes you useless, money-grubbing asshole!?”

When he didn’t get a reply, likely because Mammon was hiding in his closet or something, he was about to kick the door in when he felt a tap on his shoulder...

When he turned his head, much to his surprise, he found his missing clothes!... They were on the MC - right down to the single sleeve - and the MC met his eyes with a mischievous grin…

They had a book in their hands he recalled seeing once at the library: "101 Ways to Prank Your Partner," open like they'd been reading down the hallway.

MC: … Page 47.

They winked at him before bolting back down the hallway in a fit of giggles and oooh, it was on now.

Satan spent the morning chasing the MC through the House, both laughing and dashing around in reckless abandon. He really needed his clothes back and he wouldn’t mind an extra hour or two with the MC when he got them… 😏

Asmodeus 

Asmo isn’t exactly a morning person… Though he forces himself awake so he can perform his wake-up routine, by the time he comes to the table it’s a hit-or-miss on how irritable he’s going to be...

Of course, his favorite outfit suddenly disappearing from his massive closet did not help his mood in the slightest!

Who would take his clothes?? Well, that’s not even a question - surely plenty of his devoted, adoring stans would kill to even have his scarf, so maybe the better question was, “How??” Lucifer keeps all the doors and windows magically sealed at night! (He would know, having been locked out on numerous occasions)

Asmo was tearing through his closet, wracking his brain for any place he might have left his beloved outfit, before he heard someone clear their throat by his bedroom door.

What greeted him was a lovely look at the MC wearing the missing clothing in question, even with all the grace and style he would himself!

Asmo: *jaw-drops* “MC???”

MC: *smirks at his delight and winks at him* “Looking for something?”

They strutted into the room with the confidence of a mock fashion model and took a silly vogue pose in front of the closet, barely holding in a fit of laughter from their actions.

MC: “… Or just at me?”

Asmo, of course, snatched them right up in his arms with a delighted squeal.

Asmo: “Oh. My. Diavolo!! MC, you look just gorgeous!!!- Because you look like me, of course.” 🤭

MC: *laughs and cups his cheeks to pull him closer* “Who wouldn't want to be you, Asmo?”

Asmo: “So true… But you’re already perfect, my love~” 😘

And he went on to prove that to them all morning long...

Beelzebub 

Beel didn't even get the chance to notice his clothes were missing. He had a tournament the night before and was sleeping even harder than Belphie that morning...

What woke him up was the smell of food: scrambled shadowhawk eggs, hellboar bacon, pancakes with nightshade syrup…. 

Beel's stomach had him sitting up long before his eyes ever opened, drawn in by his nose alone.

MC: “Beeeeel. Wake up!”

Beel's eyes dragged open at their request and what he found had his mouth watering... The MC had brought him a dining cart with a complete breakfast spread, brimming with portions only Beel could ever finish, but for once he wasn’t looking at the food.

The MC, for whatever reason, had decided to put on his clothes… And keep in mind that Beel's built like an ox compared to almost anybody. They were absolutely swimming under all that fabric (thank the Devil for his suspenders…) 

MC: “Congratulations!!!”

They throw their arms up excitedly, making the unzipped jacket balloon out like a parachute behind them… It's a remarkably cute image.

Beel: *blinks* “Oh.” *he gets a little pink, still very confused* “What did I do exactly…?”

MC: “You won the championship last night, remember? Or did you forget already??”

The MC takes a step to the side and begins pointing at the plates on the cart.

MC: “I thought we'd celebrate with some breakfast! I brought you eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, cereal-”

As they continued their list, Beel's hand naturally reached out towards the cart eagerly, before something finally clicked in his head. WHY were they wearing his clothes??

Beel: “Wait. MC, why are you wearing-...?”

MC *holds their hand up* “Hold on!”

MC: “-oatmeal, muffins, banana bread, annnd…” *they get onto the bed and plop down onto his lap with a grin*

MC: “Me! Congratulations, Beel!!”

They lean up to peck his cheek while his arms automatically wind around their waist. The combination of their scents already bringing out a different sort of hunger in him…

Let’s say if this is his reward, he'll never lose a game again. 😏

Belphegor 

Belphie was in the middle of his afterschool nap in the library. The day was exhausting, so he didn’t even bother changing uniforms… The couches there were comfortable and the space was quiet, really nothing should have woken him up...

But somehow, for whatever reason, something did. A tug… Something was chasing away his dreams by tugging on the cow pillow in his arms.

MC: “Beeelllppphie….”

The tugging did not cease and he half growled in response, still keeping his eyes firmly closed.

Belphie: “What now...?”

MC: “I need this…” *they tug on the corner of the pillow a little harder* “Can you let go please…?”

What kind of question is that?? No one takes away his favorite pillow!

Belphie: *hugs the pillow tighter* “Go away, I'm trying to nap…”

MC: “Noooo please…! I need it for something right now…!!”

They started really pulling on his pillow now and he only held on tighter in annoyance. Since they wouldn’t leave him alone, he finally opened his eyes.

Belphie: “MC! Why are… you..?”

His voice trailed off as he finally saw the MC standing there in his usual outfit. His cardigan was so long over their arms that they had to grasp his pillow through its sleeves...

While his drowsy mind tried to catch up, the MC snatched the pillow from his grasp with one swift yank.

MC: *grins* “Mine now!”

They turned to bolt out of the library, but Belphie snatched them by the waist and dragged them back to the couch with him.

Belphie: “Fine, but then I get a new pillow.” 😏

The MC yelped as he flopped on top of them, pulling them close like a body pillow and resting his head into the crook of their neck to enjoy the soothing smell of their scent mixed with his.

MC: “W-wait Belphie…!” *tries to wiggle out from under his surprisingly heavy deadweight* “I was just playing around…! Please don't fall asleep on me!!”

Belphie: *yawns and settles in, already drifting off* “Too late… G'night, MC…”

MC: “Belphie!!!” 😫

They could complain all they liked, he wasn’t going to let them go for a few hours. Cute or not, MC, nobody takes his pillow!

[majestyeverlasting]

Congratulations on your one month tumblr anniversary! Could you please write prompts 16 and 46 with fatws!Bucky x reader? Thank you! :)

♡ Hi, thank you so much! I appreciate you for waiting on me to write this. I had a lot of fun with it, so I hope you enjoy! To summarize, the reader gets to accompany Bucky on an assignment in Germany, and the two of them take advantage of the special housing arrangement they’re given on a private portion of the beach. You guys get to see a little dash of multilingual Bucky towards the end in a really sweet way. The whole thing is pretty cute overall.

♡ Prompt 16: “You’re not good at pretending to be asleep.”

♡ Prompt 46: “Stop making me laugh, I’m supposed to be angry with you.”

Once More

As the tide rolled in, a gentle breeze came with it. Each ebb and flow brought the lukewarm water of the bay running over your feet as your toes pressed into the soft sand. The seagulls gliding above seemed to be welcoming you as they released their throaty cries into the air. Aside from them and the gentle slosh of the bubbling tide, there were no immediate sounds; it was peaceful.

That portion of the beach was private, situated along the Bay of Kiel. It sat behind the small, white, house that you and Bucky were staying in for the week-long duration of his assignment. It was the first time in a while that you’d been able to accompany him because, for once, he and Sam were solely doing investigative work.

There would be no intense pursuits, no combat, no casualties. Just observing.

In the weeks prior, the Office of International Affairs in D.C. had received word that under-the-table negotiations were being proposed in the port city of Kiel. They needed eyes and ears on the ground to confirm whether or not such claims were valid. Because if they were, a major threat would be posed to European infrastructure and the millions who depended on it. So after housing arrangements were made, the three of you were flown into a private airport in Germany along with a couple of military agents.

It was a peculiar getaway, but a getaway no less.

You let out a small yelp when a pair of arms snaked around your waist from behind, squeezing gently. “Hey, pretty girl,” Bucky murmured into your ear, kissing it afterwards. “I saw you walk out here.”

As you relaxed, a thoughtful hum rose up your throat. “I figured you might’ve. You’re not very good at pretending to be asleep.”

Before you wandered out to the shoreline, Bucky had been laying on the wicker couch on the back porch, baby blue cushions beneath him. There were a pair of aviator sunglasses covering his eyes as his chest rose with steady breaths. You had paused to see if he was awake and would acknowledge you. The corners of his lips twitched upwards the slightest bit, which you almost considered calling him out for.

But when he didn’t show any other signs of being awake, you leaned down to press a light kiss to his forehead before heading down the steps, and onto the wooden walkway that led to the sand.

At your comment, Bucky chuckled and let his mouth move the spot beneath your ear, nipping gently.

You shivered, and said, “I should’ve pinched you.”

“That wouldn’t have been nice.” A smile was evident in his voice.

You shrugged with a small huff of laughter. The two of you then gazed out at the expanse of the bay. Ships sailed along the line of the horizon in the distance. The tide continued rolling in, though never rising quite above your knees.

“I love you,” he said eventually, his words competing with the seagulls.

“I love you too.” He coaxed you to turn to face him. When you did, you saw that the white button down he wore was unbuttoned and flowing in the calm wind.

Seamlessly, his flesh hand rose to cup your face and he connected his lips to yours. You could taste the lingering hint of Merlot on his tongue from when you two had shared a glass in the hour prior. Bucky kissed you slowly, and gently, yet still with passion. Had the tide not been lapping at your legs, you would have had reason to believe you were floating.

You chased his lips for a final peck when he started to pull away, making him smile. He looked handsome in the late afternoon sun and you allowed yourself to study his face. A few freckles lined his cheeks and you reached up to run your finger over them. Then your hand fell so that you could wrap your arms around him in an embrace. His secured around you in return.

It was getting closer to the time he had to meet up with Sam and the agents to eavesdrop on a meeting being held at a classified location near the Port of Kiel shipyard.

“You have to leave me soon, don’t you?” You asked, head resting on his shoulder.

“In another hour,” he confirmed. “I should be back before it gets too late.”

“Okay,” you murmured. “And you promise you guys will be safe?”

Bucky chuckled and gave you a squeeze. “We’ve done this kinda stuff once or twice, doll. We’ll be alright,” he said, a note of teasing to his tone. “But, yes. I promise.”

It was before midnight when he arrived back at the house. Late, but before midnight nonetheless. When he walked through the front door, you were laying on the couch in the living room, curled up in one of the fluffy blankets you’d packed. The TV glowed as it aired a nightly news report that had failed to grasp your full attention. You would’ve crawled into bed had you not been waiting for him.

The sight of his tall frame made you push yourself up to stand, the blanket slipping off you, and back down to the couch. You didn’t realize that a small smile had stretched across your face.

“See?” He said, smiling back. “Not too bad, right? Could’ve been later.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “How’d everything go?”

He ran a hand through his hair as he began to walk towards you. His boots thudded against the wooden planks of the floor. “Things are looking pretty good so far,” he began. There wasn’t anything discussed that raised reason for concern. We’ll see how things play out as we keep an eye out these next few days. That’ll determine everyone’s next move,” he explained, stopping a little ways in front of you. “How about you, pretty girl? What’d you get up to while I was gone?”

Nothing worth noting, you wanted to say. But you decided to tease him instead. “Oh, you know.” You shrugged. “A little bit of everything. Went out on the town, danced on a few tables, got whisked away by a stranger—electrifying stuff.”

A hint of a smirk appeared on Bucky’s face as he narrowed his eyes at you. “I don’t think you’d look this cozy after doing all that.” He began to take off his leather jacket, revealing a black T-shirt that accentuated the definition of his upper body. His vibranium arm almost seemed to blend into the dark fabric, making the gold streaks of accent stand out. Black was one of your favorite colors on him for that very reason.

But you weren’t done messing with him quite yet. “Maybe that’s what I want it to seem like.” You raised your brows in a challenge. Bucky stared at you for a few more beats before stalking off towards the master bedroom with a lighthearted roll of his eyes.

“Wait, no! Don’t leave.” You laughed, following after him.

Bucky didn’t react when you wrapped your arms around him in a jarring hug, forcing him to walk into the bedroom carting a portion of your weight as you attempted to slow his steps. The room was a modest space suited with a neutral color scheme. Lots of browns and creams with a couple pops of a pretty burnt orange. The full-sized bed was smaller than the two of you were used to, but the proximity that came along with sleeping in it hadn’t been too bad the previous night.

He tossed his jacket onto it.

“I was just kidding,” you said. “I was here the whole time. I went out back to watch the sunset, but I hardly did anything other than that. Just scrolled on my phone and read a little. And missed you.”

He finally laughed and pried your arms from around him. “I know, doll.” Then he smirked. “You’d probably fall if you actually tried dancing on a table.”

“Hey!” You lightly slapped his chest with the back of your hand. “I would not.” Bucky’s laughter dwindled when you pouted and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Oh, c’mon,” he said, moving to stand in front of you. “I was joking. You know I was.” You almost cracked a smile when he lifted your chin so you could meet his eyes.

“Ich liebe dich,” he stated. German for I love you.

“I have no idea what you just said.” That was a lie.

You let him pull you to your feet as his shoulders shook with amusement. “Yes you do,” he countered.

Then he took your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead, your nose, and peppered some across your cheeks in a way that pleasantly ghosted over your skin. In between them, he told you that he loved you in a few of the languages he spoke—the ones in which he knew you were familiar with the phrase. He even called you “pretty girl” in Russian before pecking your lips. The whole while, warmth spread through your face.

He smiled at the sight of the sparkle in your eyes. “Do I need to repeat anything, or did you understand?”

That drew a chuckle out of you, against your attempt and feigning indifference. “Stop making me laugh,” you whined in defeat. “I’m supposed to be angry with you.”

“And how’s that working out?”

“It’s not,” you muttered. “I love you too.”

And your lips met his once more.

-

Thanks for reading!

Click here for more fluffy Bucky stuff.

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: both non-sexual and sexual pet play, dom!jimin, sub!jk, sub!tae, handjob, yoongi and yn pretending like they don't wanna suck the souls out of each other, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mutual masturbation

A/N: welcome back to my best boys ;;;;-; this chapter is being cross-posted from ao3. in the future i'll try and upload in both places at the same time!

DAY TWENTY-THREE

It’s two blocks of pure ice that wake Taehyung up that Tuesday morning. Before he’s even really coherent, he’s hissing and tucking into a ball away from the cold.

“Puppy, shh, it’s just me.”

Even as those chilled items that Tae can tentatively identify as feet tuck between his bare legs, he goes lax and accepts the body that wraps around his curled back. “Minnie,” he mumbles, and it’s so quiet that the older boy probably doesn’t hear, but his grip tightens anyway. “‘What time ‘s it?”

“Early, I’m sorry.” Jimin’s voice, unlike his thawing toes, blows warm across the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Missed you.”

A sleepy smile of bliss crosses Taehyung’s face for exactly three seconds, at which point he recalls the fact that he didn’t go to sleep alone tonight. Shooting up so quickly that his shoulder catches Jimin’s chin, Taehyung peels his eyes open to see Jungkook, awkwardly hugging a pillow to his chest with his legs crossed.

He bites his lip, avoiding their gazes. “Sorry, I, uh, don’t mean to disturb.”

“Shoot.” Jimin rubs his face blearily. “I didn’t see you there, Jungkookie. I should go-”

“No, no, stay,” Taehyung begs hurriedly, launching himself back onto the mattress and wiggling himself back into the curve of Jimin’s front. “Jungkook, um, you can come cuddle too if you want. I like being middle spoon.”

The youngest gazes back and forth at them, never resting long enough for eye contact. His indecision is palpable, but there’s a pleased glimmer too. “Is that...okay with Jimin-hyung? I don’t wanna intrude.”

Jimin’s voice is soft, his eyes slipping closed as he eases his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck, arms snaking around his torso. “You can be a part of us too, Jungkookie.”

The words are perhaps more intimate than Jimin even realises, and in the vulnerable setting of a bed in the early morning hours, Jungkook’s hard swallow is audible, before he slowly puts the pillow aside and tucks his feet under the covers, slipping down. It’s not until Taehyung’s arm is his headrest and the other one provides a comforting weight low on his hips that he speaks up again. “Do you… do you mean that just for now, or… Or for good?”

“What do you think, Minnie?” Taehyung’s fingertips trace lazily over the bare skin that’s exposed by Jungkook’s shirt riding up. “Can we keep him?”

Jimin hums in affirmation. He’s just about asleep again, but Taehyung can feel his pleased smile against his shoulder. “Of course we can, puppy.”

The repeated nickname causes Taehyung’s heart to twitch just as his dick does. It’s no less endearing and special, but Jungkook is still perfectly awake and right there, and it feels a little confronting.

But Jungkook just chuckles, twisting around in Taehyung’s slack embrace to face him, eyes bright. “If you’re a puppy, what am I?”

Taehyung’s careful not to jostle Jimin. He’s begun snoring, nothing more audible than regular snuffling, but still Tae doesn’t want to disturb that rest. “What do you mean, Jungkookie?”

He scrunches his nose, thinking away. “Well, there’s Minnie and there’s puppy. I want a cute nickname too if I’m gonna be - you know - with you guys.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung begins haltingly, “Jimin calls me puppy because… God, it feels silly saying it out loud. He calls me puppy because sometimes when we’re together I go into puppyspace. You know; like petplay.”

“That’s not silly,” Jungkook says reflexively, even as his eyes widen and lips part. “What’s it like?”

“Puppyspace?” Taehyung asks. Jungkook nods eagerly, and the motion is transferred through Tae where they connect, making Jimin grunt and bury his nose deeper into the crook of his neck. “It’s so peaceful, Jungkookie. He takes care of me so I don’t have to think. I can nap and cuddle and play, without all of the stresses of life. It feels all warm and cosy, you know? I love it.”

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle in wonder, his fingers finding their way to Taehyung’s worn black sleepshirt, fiddling with the hem. “Can I try? How do you… how do you know if you can do it?”

Behind Taehyung, Jimin lets out a half-asleep groan, his nose pressing against the taller one’s back. “Of course you can try. Let’s just sleep for now, though? I’m sure Minnie can play with both of us later.”

It’s that promise that allows Jungkook to settle, nodding with a tentative hum and shifting down so that his head can rest in the crook of Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung falls back under like this, with a heartbeat thrumming against his back and soft, even breaths tickling his bared shoulder.

--

“Hobi?”

Hoseok pauses, frothed toothbrush clamped between his teeth. “Mmng?”

“I don’t-” you cut yourself off, clearing your throat to dislodge the thickness that distorts your voice. “Can we not tell them?”

He bends over to quickly spit out the majority of toothpaste, but when he stands upright to face you again there’s a smear on his chin. “Tell them what?”

You blink. “Last night. I just… I don’t want them to- to pity me or treat me like I’m glass or anything. I know it won’t happen again, it was just…” Shrugging hopelessly, you give up on trying to put words to it. “I don’t know.”

The dom remains silent for a few moments, lips pursed in thought. “The chicken must have been bad,” he concludes.

Bewildered, you cock your head to the side. “Huh? What chicken?”

“You and I went out for dinner at this fried chicken place, but when you got home last night it made you sick. That’s why you aren’t quite yourself today. I’ll get Yoongi-hyung to make some hangover soup.” His eyes are warm, pulling you into a comforting one-armed hug. “Just the chicken, that’s all. Yeah?”

You swallow down the swell of gratitude and instead bury yourself into his safe embrace. “Yeah. That’s all.”

To his credit, Yoongi doesn’t ask questions, pushing all his concern into his cooking. The doctor all but feeds you himself, hovering with a furrowed brow and a napkin. Strangely enough, his fussing goes a long way in cheering you up, and you let the events of yesterday wash away with the salty broth.

Hoseok hangs around for a while before going down to do some laundry, Namjoon briefly jumps in to steal a spoonful directly from the pan, eyes never leaving the novel he’s holding open with a single hand. Even Jungkook stumbles in blearily at one point, nose first, requesting an extra two bowls for Jimin and Taehyung as well.

You’re onto your second serving by the time it’s just Yoongi and you. He’s pulled up a chair beside you, cradling a coffee. “I got a text this morning, you know,” he begins gently. “I can ignore it if you’re not up to it.”

It takes you a moment to process his words, recalling Sejin’s instructions the day prior. “It’s your day, then?” He nods silently, scanning you for any reaction. You hum, spoon swirling lazily in the dregs of your breakfast. “I’m up to it,” you answer finally, “if you are.”

“Always,” Yoongi replies immediately, voice bared and soft. His hand passes over yours, squeezing briefly, before he stands up and clears the bowls from the table. “Aspirin is in the pantry if you need it, blue container.”

You give him your thanks, left alone as he disappears upstairs.

Grabbing a glass and pouring yourself some water, you track down the aspirin and take out two tablets, grimacing as the bitterness sticks to your tongue. While you may not actually be sick, a headache was beginning to bloom between your brows.

So much had happened in the past few days, you almost felt like you’d gotten whiplash. The early days of lounging around the house and chasing pleasure seemed so distant. Feelings tangled things up more each day, unraveling quicker than you can get a hold on them.

It wasn’t just you, either. You saw the way the guys looked at each other, how gentle they were, how thoughtful. It was in the little things. Jungkook’s laundry pile started featuring clothes from the other maknaes; Namjoon and Hoseok always sat so close together, even when there was room on the couch; Yoongi had started giving the others bigger portions when he cooked, even as his stayed the same. And Jin…

You startle when a door opens, glass almost slipping from your hands. It’s the unfilmed room across the stairs. You frown as a tall figure slips out, swamped in a massive pink hoodie that you’d never seen in the house before. A sleeve-covered hand reaches up to rub under the hood, dark hair poking out. Your breath catches. Jin…

He moves across the hall gingerly like his body aches, hand never leaving his face as he grumbles sleepily. For a split second, your mind entertains the thought of sprinting past before he sees you, avoiding the conflict that is no doubt upon you.

But only for a split second. Because the only thing worse than being confronted by him is not seeing him at all. You wait, instead, until he rolls his shoulders back, tipping his face to the ceiling to stretch out his spine. The hood falls back, exposing a serious case of bedhead, tired eyes, and sallow skin. But it’s Jin nonetheless, beautiful despite his apparent exhaustion, and your heart breaks again for being the one to cause this.

He notices you when his head comes back down from the stretch, and were you not in such despair you may have cracked a smile at the way he jumps. “Y/n…” he mumbles, voice barely audible.

Your mouth goes dry. Even if it wasn’t you don’t know what to say, simply bracing yourself for anger.

He doesn’t stiffen his features, however, simply watching you with melancholy eyes. “You look sad,” he says weakly.

Your heart is racing a hundred beats a second at just hearing him speak to you, and it takes you that much time just to process his words, eyes pricking sharply. “I am sad,” you reply honestly, blinking the wetness away. “You look tired,” you whisper in return.

His bottom lip trembles, before flattening tightly. Instead of responding verbally, he just nods.

The two of you sit in that silence for a while. Jin’s breathing is ragged, his eyes unfocused as they slip past you. You think you might be sick with the way your stomach flips.

Finally, you can’t stand the silence. “Are you still mad at-” you begin, but your words die in your throat as you’re enveloped tightly by him, clutching you so close that your chest constricts. The tensed breath you didn’t know you were holding rushes out of you with a sob, and your arms fly up to hug him back, just as tightly.

There’s nothing more than just a simple hug, but your heart is still full, almost overwhelmed by the cathartic relief of having him close to you again, his chin resting on the crown of your head, his hands rubbing circles on your back, the gentle sway as he rocks you in the hold.

It lasts for an eternity too short, and when he pulls away you feel untethered, already pining for that contact again.

His eyes are swimming, though you see the way he tightens his jaw to hold it back. “I’m devastated,” he admits, “but I miss you too much to ice you out like this. I need time but god, I don’t want space. Can you give me time?”

You’re nodding hastily, sniffing as your nose threatens to run. “Of course, Jin. I’ll be here. I… I think I-”

“Don’t-” he interrupts sharply, sucking in a shaky breath. “Don’t let now be the first time we say it. Later,” he promises.

We. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps, electricity thrumming along your nerves. You let that word settle you, repeating it in your head as Jin sends you a sad smile - but a smile nonetheless - and takes his leave, disappearing upstairs.

You decide to take a bath, in the end, letting yourself soak in the thought of “we” a little longer.

--

“So, what, we start barking? Chew on some sticks?”

Taehyung colours violently and Jimin sends Jungkook a sharp glare in rebuke. “Say less,” he scolds the youngest, before reaching up to run his fingers through Taehyung’s hair, breaking up the curls. “We just ease into it. Taehyung doesn’t use it for humiliation or anything like that, he just likes being taken care of. Isn’t that right, pup?”

Taehyung hums, eyes already fluttering as he leans his head into Jimin’s palm. The three of them had migrated onto Taehyung’s now-made bed after their breakfast after Jungkook once again mentioned wanting to try petplay.

Significantly larger than Jimin, Taehyung has to awkwardly shuffle down the mattress further to rest his head in Jimin’s lap, but Jungkook can immediately see the lines of stress that melt away once he does so. Jimin smooths his hand down to cup the younger’s chin, delicately stroking the soft flesh as if he were patting a sleepy dog.

“You’ll just watch for now,” Jimin instructs Jungkook without removing his gaze from Taehyung, “and if it feels right, you can join in. There are no expectations and no rules, only to respect the process and don’t disrupt Tae’s petspace. Got it?”

Jungkook swallows as Jimin chooses that point to lift his steeled gaze, brows high as he waits for Jungkook to agree. “Got it,” the youngest confirms. He gets comfy, tucking his feet under him and leaning up against the pillows.

“Such a lucky boy,” the dom begins with his voice like melted sugar. “Dogs aren’t meant to be up on the furniture. But you’ve been good lately, so I thought I’d treat you.”

Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed. He shuffles slightly, stretching one leg out until his ankle dangles off the edge of the mattress, but doesn’t audibly respond.

Jimin chuckles fondly through his nose, hand running down to rub up and down Taehyung’s clothed tummy, which is now facing upwards. “Oh, pup,” he coos, “you must be tired after the big walk. How about we rest for a bit, and we can play later?” Instead of waiting for a response, the dom just gasps like he’s forgotten something important. “Oh! Your collar! I must’ve taken it off when I took off the leash. Never mind; Jungkook, dear, could you get me the brush and collar out of the bedside table? Bottom drawer.”

It feels like the very particles in the air shift when Jungkook is ripped away from the observer role and into an active participant. He swallows away the dryness in his throat to little avail and nods, fumbling with the drawer handle and pulling out a barely-used hairbrush and velvet dog collar. “These?” he asks redundantly, nerves settling when Jimin gives him a pleased smile and holds out his hand.

“Alright, little puppy,” Jimin announces, his voice lilting easily back into the candyfloss tone that all owners used with their pets. “Let’s give you a brush before we put your collar back on. I don’t want your coat getting matted.”

Taehyung gives a small, throaty hum and lifts himself laboriously up onto his elbows, tipping his head up to his master. Jimin pats his cheek warmly and calls him a good boy, and Jungkook gets a front row seat to the beautiful sight of a sleepy, lusty Kim Taehyung going pink in the face, a shy smile twitching his lip.

‘Brushing his coat’ is just brushing his hair, but even Jungkook can see that the technique is slightly different. Jimin does it slowly, methodically, line by line from the front to the back, then reaching around to the nape of his neck to give it a good brushing there - Taehyung all but shivers at each swoop of the brush - even folding down each ear when he goes past. Watching it is nothing short of mesmerising, and Jungkook feels his spine tingle, wanting to feel it too.

Was it too soon to join? He could always ask for the brush later, he decided. Though even as he reached that conclusion, the thought was slipping out of his mind sand through fingers, hazier and hazier the more he listened to Jimin’s lull tone and watched his patient movements.

“There we go,” the dom whispers, passing the brush over one last time to settle all the curls in their rightful place, “much better now. Chin up, pup; time for your collar.”

Taehyung’s chin lifts the minutest of degrees. Jimin waits for a moment, but the brown-haired boy looks almost like he’s falling asleep on the spot, swaying slightly as his elbows prop him up.

“Silly me,” Jimin tuts with a smile, reaching out to manually adjust Taehyung how he wants him. “Doggies can’t understand human words, can they?” Like a proud parent, he turns to Jungkook, grin widening as he sees the state the boy is in. “I am trying to teach Tae-tae some commands. Sit, lie down, wait. Suck. He’s getting better.”

With that, the dom grabs the collar off the duvet and fiddles with the buckle, undoing it so that he can wrap it carefully around Taehyung’s neck. The process reminds Jungkook much of what happened when his parents put a collar on his childhood dog: slipping a finger under the material to test how snug it was, shifting it around until the small dangling pendant was to the front, giving it a little tug to ensure the buckle was on right.

At the gentle tug, Taehyung practically topples, going lax with his face down on Jimin’s thigh and snuggling down, breaths even. Jimin doesn’t comment on it, simply humming in acknowledgement and returning to softly stroking his back and shoulders. But he does glance over to Jungkook again, eyes glinting. “Do you wanna come a little closer, hm?”

At the invitation, Jungkook almost trips himself scooting over, wrapping his arms around one of Jimin’s and holding it to his chest. Seeing the tender moment shared between Taehyung and Jimin had made him feel positively touch-starved, desperate to feel some of that sweet attention.

Jimin’s eyes widen in bemusement before twisting his hand in Jungkook’s grip and giving his stomach a little scratch. “Goodness me, little energizer bunny, huh?”

Jungkook whines, recognising that higher-pitched voice. He was being talked to like a pet, and the thought made his insides hot. He presses his face against Jimin’s shoulder, feeling the heat on his skin there too.

“No need to get all shy on me now, bun,” Jimin teases. “I’ve already seen that little friend in your pants. Well, I suppose he’s not that little.”

Jungkook tightens his arms around Jimin’s one, wanting to rock his hips up to feel some friction. He just squirms instead, hoping his need is answered. “Jimin-hyung.”

Jimin sucks in a breath. “Can this bunny speak, hm?”

Jungkook blinks, the furnace inside him cooling for a moment. “Am I not… supposed to?”

“I’m not telling you off, I’m asking,” Jimin explains softly, cocking his head down at the potentially-sleeping Taehyung in his lap. “Tae-tae likes to be non-verbal. It’s just preference. Would you rather keep speaking?”

After a moment of thought, Jungkook nods, then props his chin up, sending Jimin his best puppy eyes. “Minnie, I need you,” he pleads in a small voice, writhing against him again.

Jungkook’s fingers curl when Jimin’s hand dips lower suddenly, grasping his length from over the fabric of his sleep shorts. The pleasure is like a bolt that shocks his whole body, and when Jimin strokes him once, the texture of the fabric increasing the friction, the guttural sound that falls from his lips is more animal than human.

Jimin just smiles placidly, patting the throbbing heat once. “Does it hurt, bun? Want me to make it go away?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook’s breath is shallow with excitement. This feels like new territory, relying fully on Jimin to relieve the ache, too helpless, too stupid to do anything about it himself, just a dumb bunny with a generous owner.

“You’re drooling, bun,” Jimin points out, voice raspy with arousal. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Jungkook feels fingers at the elastic band of his shorts before Jimin withdraws. He whines, a pout threatening to form, but the dom just runs his fingers and palm over Jungkook’s mouth and chin. Then, when his hand delves in and grips Jungkook, he’s slick with Jungkook’s own drool, the slide wet and hot and electric.

He moans, but saliva won’t stop gathering in the hollows of his mouth. It’s like it’s impossible to close it at all, every firm, purposeful stroke making it harder to do that basic function.

“Noisy boy,” Jimin scolds, though there’s no venom to his tone. “You might wake the puppy up, bun.”

With a strangled groan, Jungkook’s head flops down, his teeth banging against Jimin’s shoulder. A thought floats across his dazed mind, of pressing his teeth into skin, lovebites to colour the bronze.

But his teeth don’t sink into flesh. Fabric fills his mouth. Jimin’s shirt. His teeth don’t stop, though. On the contrary, he chews on the cotton, letting it muffle the sounds he can’t help but make.

“Oh, good boy,” Jimin praises warmly, his hand speeding up mercilessly to pitch Jungkook over the edge. There’s no foreplay, no kisses or teasing touches. His hard cock is a problem that his master is kind enough to solve, that Minnie-hyung is making go away, and he won’t stop until his bunny has finally-

When Jungkook comes, his whole body feels it like an earthquake. Every muscle jerks, pulses so that his toes curl and his core trembles, the drool soaking the fabric of Jimin’s shirt now until he feels it run down his own neck, blubbering through the waves of it.

Jimin slows down after the first burst of cum, but doesn’t stop, only tightening his grip like he’s milking every last drop out.

Once the tides of pleasure have dipped back down again, Jungkook goes boneless, whimpering until the hand finally leaves his softening, oversensitive cock.

He’s panting, all of his body weight on Jimin to stay upright, and it takes a few moments for his senses to properly return to him, his heart still beating erratically in his chest. “Oh, fuck.”

Jimin giggles elfishly, before reaching up to tap on Jungkook’s bottom lip with wet fingers. “You made such a mess, little bunny. Clean it up, now.”

Jungkook welcomes the digits, blinking blearily as the bitter tang of his own cum fills his mouth. He sucks Jimin’s fingers clean two at a time, swirling his tongue between them dutifully. It isn’t until he’s done and Jimin is praising him that he restores enough energy to sit up again.

Across from him, Jimin peels the soaking wet sleeve of his shirt off his shoulder, laughing softly in good humour even as his brows furrow at the weird feeling. Before Jungkook can offer up an apology, Jimin is stripping it off entirely, chucking it away and rubbing at his now-bared chest. “Much better,” he muses to himself. After a moment of letting Jungkook clear his head, Jimin turns to him, his dry hand returning to lazily card through Taehyung’s curls. “How was it, Jungkook?”

“Uh,” Jungkook replies eloquently, feeling the way his cock still throbs every few seconds in aftershocks. “Uh.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jimin states proudly, before sending Jungkook a serious gaze. “We’ll talk later, yeah? When your dick isn’t hanging out.”

Jungkook flushes, scrambles to tuck himself away, and the movement jostles the bed enough that Taehyung groans, craning his neck up with bleary eyes and rumpled hair.

The two sitting on the bed go silent. Jimin cocks his head to the side and cups Taehyung’s cheek. “Were you- Tae-tae, did you just have a nap in the middle of the scene?”

Taehyung beams sleepily, eyes still lidded. “Mm.”

“Tae! Are you out of petspace now?”

“Think so.” With a dramatically loud cry, Taehyung reaches an arm up into a deep, arching stretch, rubbing at his eyes once he’s done. “Mm, yeah, definitely. My foot has kinda gone dead too.”

As Taehyung sits up to rub at his foot, pressing his thumbs into the muscle, Jimin’s shoulders sink with a deep pout. “Tae-tae,” he whines again, “you know I like playing with puppy.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung replies easily, though it doesn’t sound like he is in the slightest, “I guess I just wanted to destress more than anything. I didn’t sleep so well last night.”

Jimin’s face softens, his complaints dissolved at Taehyung’s words. Without a verbal reply, he just reaches out, hooks his finger on the neckline of Taehyung’s shirt, and pulls him in for a kiss, humming into it slightly.

The movements, the touches are so natural and intimate that Jungkook feels like he’s intruding. It only lasts a moment before they break apart to go shower, but it’s enough time to sear the sight behind Jungkook’s eyelids. Maybe he’d been allowed to join them in their scenes, even cuddle with them, but he wasn’t a part of that bond that tied Jimin and Taehyung so strongly together. The thought sinks in his stomach, and he decides to skip the shower, getting dressed instead for a long workout downstairs.

--

When you knock on his door, Yoongi is at his desk, a pair of black-framed reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He glances up, an eyebrow lifting in mild surprise.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You muffle a smile at his domestic getup - a grey t-shirt hangs off, far too big for him but outlining his chest and strong shoulders nonetheless, and his long black sweatpants all but cover his bare feet, toes tapping the carpet unconsciously as he waits for your reply. “I’ve been informed that today is your day.”

“Ah, checking in to the Fuck Hotel, I see,” he quips casually, slipping his glasses of and shutting the lid of the laptop he was working on. “We do have one vacancy.”

“Is that so?” you say, unable to stop your grin as he stands up from his office chair and rolls his head back like an athlete warming up.

“Comes with a continental breakfast,” he assures, before ducking his head with a sheepish chuckle. “God, hyung is becoming a bad influence on my sense of humour.” With slightly pink cheeks, he stretches out a hand towards you, before jerking it back and freezing, fingers curled and tensed. “Wait. Shit.”

You frown, glancing down at yourself, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. “What is it?”

“Hm. I just remembered my prompt, is all.” He takes a step back with a thoughtful furrow of his brows, clenching his hands into fists and putting them behind himself. “Dammit, I was meant to think of a game plan but I got distracted sorting out- uh- client emails.”

“Was this a bad time?” you ask with a light laugh, even as you cast a guilty glance towards the laptop. A month in and he was still doing work?

“No! No, it’s fine, it’s just…” Wincing, Yoongi scratches at the back of his neck and takes another step back, gesturing down at himself, and at the messy work desk. “I’m not in sexy mode yet. I look like a stay-at-home dad trying to work out how to order groceries online while my toddler is finally having her 2pm nap.”

You pause before an incredulous laugh bubbles out of your throat. “Okay, first of all, I think stay-at-home dads are very sexy, and I happen to think that you are very sexy. Secondly, ‘her?’ Why was that whole analogy so specific?”

Yoongi huffs defensively, petulantly throwing himself down to sit on the bed with his legs splayed wide. “I used to have a life plan, okay? But that’s not relevant now. The point is, I haven’t worked out how to do a good scene. I don’t want to it to be disappointing. Or, god forbid, boring.”

Your frown just deepens. “It doesn’t need to be an elaborate setup, Yoongi. Just fuck me. Touch me, at least. I can’t believe we’re still both wearing all our clothes when I’ve been very explicit about my intentions.”

You don’t miss the wince that flutters across his face. “That’s kinda the issue. Touching you, I mean.”

“You don’t wanna touch me?”

“I-” Yoongi all but stomps his foot, teeth clenching in frustration. “Of course I fucking want to, but I have to stick to my prompt, Y/n.”

Your mouth drops open. “So your prompt is that we can’t even touch each other? Doesn’t exactly sound very appealing for a porn show.”

He clicks his tongue. “You can still touch me,” he corrects with a dry gaze.

Unconvinced, you narrow your eyes. “Isn’t that convenient?” you question rhetorically. “Gonna make me do all the work this week because you haven’t organised it in your planner yet, Doctor Min?”

He glares at your teasing tone. “Excuse me for trying to play the game properly.” You swallow as his eyes run down your body heavily, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips. “If I could touch you, trust me, I’d have you dripping by now.”

Your thighs tighten, but you force them not to move. The last thing you want him to know is that you’re just about dripping already. “Sounds to me like you’re just lazy.” He doesn’t react, watching you make up your mind. You suck in a breath to hype yourself. “If I walk away right now, you’ll get nothing. Not only will you lose your prompt, but you’ll be stuck with blue balls. But if you give in and fuck me already, then you’ll only lose the prompt.”

“Who says I’ll even have blue balls? I’m perfectly comfortable,” he fires back immediately, tipping his head to the side cockily.

“Oh, please,” you drawl, letting your eyes fall to the sizeable bulge beneath his sweatpants, “you aren’t that big soft. Don’t kid yourself. So do you wanna get off, or not?”

His gaze hardens to stone, jaw flexing. “I’m surprised you think I need you for that. Aside from the fact that there are six other people in this house, I brought a fleshlight from home for a reason.”

Now that is something you hadn’t expected him to say. You freeze from your spot in the doorway, feeling heat pulse between your legs. Your spark of resistance is quickly fading, overtaken by need, so you don’t hesitate in firing back while you can. “If you think your fleshlight is better than me, then that’s your loss. Enjoy the bunkbeds; I’m off to do what you’re too cowardly to.”

“Have fun, sweetheart,” he snips, one of his hands sneaking under his shirt to rub his lower abdomen, fingers slipping below the hem of his sweats. “Shut the door on your way out.”

Feeling like you’ve lost the argument (and a little too horny to care) you have your final say by slamming it, thumping your feet with every step down the hall to your room.

Once inside, it takes mere seconds to throw yourself onto your bed back-first and shove your hand down your pants. But then, before you even dip into your wetness, a thought strikes you.

Pulling your hand out and making your way to your desk, you use your other hand to clumsily type in your password, and open a browser. It doesn’t take long to navigate to the page with all the paid streams for your own show, and with a slight flush you select Yoongi’s bedroom, impatiently punching in your credit card details.

After an agonising wait, the payment is processed and you’re brought to a private livestreaming site, a single window open in front of you.

The angle itself is strange, making Yoongi’s room look larger than it was, but you’re surprised at just how high quality the video and sound is once you bring it to full screen and slip your headphones in your ears. Yoongi is hunched over his nightstand, and you can actually hear the wooden slide faintly in the background as he opens and closes a drawer, returning to his office chair with a seemingly-transparent fleshlight and a bottle of lube.

Something about watching him through a camera in the corner of his room feels so wrong, especially as he palms impatiently at the tent in his pants, uncapping the lube and pouring a generous amount into the opening of the toy. You’d never been much of a voyeur - or, at least, so you thought - but you couldn’t take your eyes off him, blinding slipping your hands down your pants but over your underwear, simply pressing down on your clit to ease some of the crying need.

Oddly, the lube pours down and begins to drip out the other side, creating a dark patch on his clothed thigh. The audio picks up Yoongi cursing, and there’s no further preamble before he’s using one hand to hook down his sweatpants and kick them off to pool on the floor. The motion causes his cock to jerk up onto his stomach, leaving a smear of precum on his grey shirt, visible only by a few pixels of darker grey.

He scoots a little down the seat of the chair and hitches a leg up over one of the arms, eyes slipping closed as the hand not holding the dripping fleshlight grips his own cock, thumb pressing at the head.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans lowly, the sound running through your headphones and straight down between your legs. His brows are furrowed like it’s almost paining him, but he hovers the opening of the fleshlight over his tip as if he’s trying to hold back.

Slowly, he lowers the toy down one inch at a time, until the lube is drooling over his cock. Finally, the transparent toy slips down over his cock and his hips jump off the chair, his knuckles white on the arm of the chair and the fleshlight as he growls and lifts it back off again.

The sight of him intentionally teasing himself is too erotic for you to stay unmoving, and you find yourself burning up, losing the headphones for a moment to shuffle out of your own clothes. You hurry as much as you can, grimacing at your sopping panties, but by the time you’re back in your chair with nothing but a bra and tuning back into the stream, Yoongi’s not even focused on his toy anymore.

It sits propped up on his thigh, with two of his fingers lazily, almost absentmindedly thrusting deeply inside of it to keep it steady as the rest of him swivels in his chair to open his laptop again.

You frown and squint at the tiny screen on the stream. Rows of fuzzy squares stack up, and while you can’t be certain the phallic shapes of some of the miniscule images inside them make you think he was on a sex toy website.

He quickly opens a new tab, however, and your heart begins to beat nervously as a familiar page comes up. One you’d been on just earlier.

With bated breath you wait, hands grasping at the meat of your thighs and clothed breast to hold off on touching between your legs just yet. Yoongi navigates the Bangasm page, going through the same payment process you did.

It isn’t until you’re met with a miniature version of your own room on his screen that you realise what’s happened. And it’s when Yoongi squints and leans in closer, before turning to face the camera directly with a bewildered look, that you know you’ve been caught.

Frozen, you watch the on-screen, Yoongi look back and forth twice, before slowly scooting his chair back on an angle to the table, so that the laptop is in eyeshot even as his body is facing the camera fully.

Your mouth is dry, but the fleshlight he picks up again is wet, so wet that his fingers glisten, almost slipping off the toy entirely. He holds it tightly, transferring it to his dominant hand and teasing the top over his tip, biting hard on his lip.

The squeeze you have on your thigh is almost painful as your core burns, but you’re too stunned still to move, watching him dance the opening of the fleshlight over his cock, never dipping it inside.

With a twitching grin and lusty eyes, he glances towards the laptop. Your whole body feels hot as you glance over your shoulder to the camera in your room, before looking back at the screen. He’s not moving, chest visibly heaving even as he stares patiently at the computer screen.

He’s… waiting for you.

With one strangled breath, you tilt your chair away from the desk, adjusting your own laptop in a similar setup to him. Eyes locked on the stream, terrified you’ll miss a single moment of him indulging himself, you let your fingers uncurl from your inner thigh and trail them down, wasting no time in automatically locating your clit, massaging around the small bud.

Pleasure flows through you like hot water, down to your toes. After holding out for so long, after being so aroused for so long, the simplest touch has your knees weak and your head lolled back against the headrest.

On screen, Yoongi’s grin widens, and he rewards you by lowering the fleshlight, the clear silicone making way for the tip of his cock. He doesn’t stop there like last time, though; instead, he slowly but surely plunges it all the way down until it’s flush with his pelvis. Your eyes fly open when the flushed head pops out the other side, and Yoongi clearly enjoys it too judging by the way he curses and grips it tight, practically panting.

Without really intending, your fingers dip down and slip inside, two already. You barely feel a stretch with how wet you are. Although the feeling of something inside you is nice, you know your fingers just aren’t enough, especially with the angle of you slumped back in your chair.

So, you chance one look back at the screen - Yoongi is using the tip of one finger to spread his precum around the glossed tip of his cock, but his eyes are firmly locked onto you - and walk on shaky legs to your closet, where an unassuming (and so far unused) black silk bag lies amongst your shoes.

The amount of time it takes for you to duck into the bathroom and quickly wash the silicone vibrator you have with soapy water feels like an eternity, and by the time you hurry back it isn’t the toy that’s vibrating.

Frowning, you hesitantly answer the call that’s coming through on your phone from a familiar contact.

Yoongi’s voice immediately fills the room as the pixelated version on the screen rests his phone on the side of his desk, not jerking but twisting the fleshlight in slow arcs around his cock. “Couldn’t get enough of me, hm?”

“Says the one calling me,” you offer back lightly, switching onto speaker mode so that you can settle back in your chair, “enjoying the view?”

“A little too uneventful for me yet, sweetheart,” he teases, and his breathy groan is timed with the Yoongi on the stream lifting the fleshlight up a little and plunging it down again. “How about you put that toy in your pretty little pussy for me. For us.”

You feel your core pulse at the reminder that it wasn’t just Yoongi on the stream. Any number of anonymous strangers could be tuned in right now, seeing you with your legs spread.

The only way to cope is to lean into it instead of shying away. You slide the black silicone toy through your folds to slick it up, sighing with every light pass over your clit. Once it’s as wet as you are, you press the slightly bulbous tip down until it slips inside you, immediately shivering at the feeling.

The toy is small enough that you don’t need any special prep, yet big enough that it was satisfying, and curved just right. It had been your old reliable long before coming on the show, and there’s something strangely familiar and comforting about feeling it fill you out as you push it in deeper.

“Fuck, there we go,” Yoongi praises, and you hear the wet smacking noise of him snapping his hips up into the toy. “I may not be able to touch you, but you’ll still call my name when you cum for me.”

Your toes curl, and you’re no longer able to focus on the stream, letting your eyes fall shut and your ears tune in to his voice alone as you work the toy in and out of you.

He doesn’t waste any time in joining you, and the resulting sounds that fill your room are obscene, him making no effort to muffle the gravelled curses and moans, nor the wet thwack of silicone that gives away his movements.

The noise is somehow even more thrilling than the sight, and the feeling of his eyes on you encourages you to speed your hand up, even reaching down to desperately rub at your clit with the flat of your fingers, shivering at the wave of pleasure that wracks through your body.

It’s not long before you hear Yoongi’s voice turn guttural and the pace of the flesh light pick up frantically.

You wrench your eyes open and gaze blearily at the computer screen just in time to watch the stream of white that spills up through the back end of the fleshlight and over Yoongi’s knuckles. As hot as the image is, you whine at being made to watch this through the pixels instead of in real life, and the thought of being right fucking across from him as he fell apart is enough to make you seize up in your chair, orgasm draining you thoroughly, with not enough force to squirt but dripping on the seat nonetheless.

You take the toy out once pleasure turns to the sharp tweak of oversensitivity and pant, fighting to catch your breath as your feet feel positively numb.

Coming down from your high, you almost forget the running phone call until you hear his voice come through the speaker again. “Have a shower and then come back down to my room. You’re sleeping with me tonight.”

The beeping tone leaves you alone in your room, and you loll your head back over the edge of the chair with an exhausted moan, not without a grin playing on your lips. You wouldn’t protest to that.

[yutafrita]

Through the Webs- CHAPTER EIGHT

"And through it all, I will fearlessly love you."

Sungchan x Reader (y/n pronouns are she/her)

Chapter Warnings: References to deceased parents, mild to graphic depictions of violence, mild psychological horror elements, spider(s), references to minor character death, slight references to homophobia, depictions of poor mental health institutions

Chapter Word Count: ~7.4K (oh my god)

Through the Webs Master List

Synopsis: Therapy. Medication. Wallow. Repeat. You have gotten the daily routine down pact. Your visions or “delusions” as the doc would say, haven’t helped you when it comes to recovering from your amnesia, though. What has helped are the times when Sungchan visits you in the hospital. He says he’s your best friend, and since no one else has visited, what else are you to believe? Certainly not your own delusions which keep telling you that the asylum is more than what it seems.

Tag List! @nini0620 @maleegayuh if you want to be added just send an ask or comment <3

Chapter Eight

It was strange to be outside and not on the run. The last time you were met with fresh air, you were on the run in the escape car and moved swiftly into the underground, until now. To be walking at a brisk pace outside felt wrong to you. A part of you (one that was terrifying) wanted to flee back down to the sewage with Sungchan, afraid of facing the monsters of the outside world. 

Sungchan and you laid quietly in each other arms on the broken cot, listening in agony to his watch tick the seconds away. You did your best to ignore the doubts in your mind and pressed forward through the forest, a silence still between you two. It was surreal that only an hour before you two were entangled and the closest you could possibly be, to only be walking in silence now as you followed the crude map Taeyong made for you.

“I wish we could use a flashlight,” you muttered. At this, you heard a helicopter flying overhead and sighed. This was why you couldn’t use flashlights. As Ten and Taeyong had mentioned beforehand, Capsik utilized the police forces helicopters to comb the city overhead, extending as far as the city limits would allow- which meant flying over there forest at night to look for any glimpse of life- especially while curfew was in effect.

“At least this means we’re close,” he was staying positive, and you appreciated that. The moonlight guided the first portion of your path. You walked in step with Sungchan, keeping your breathing hushed as you saw the occasional matching set of footprints in the forest floor. “These are certainly useful,” Sungchan noted. He had a look of guilt afterwards that you couldn’t quite piece together.

“Did I do something wrong?” You stopped in your tracks, your voice still low but full of irritation. You could hardly see as it was, but the moon light bounced off of his now wide eyes and he furiously shook his head.

“What do you mean? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me?” it came out whinier than you had hoped for.

He was quiet again before answering. “I wanted to take you on a real date. A proper date before... I’m a gentleman.” He started walking again and you followed closely now as he continued, “but you’re right. Shit can go south. I hate that I can’t fix this. I should be able to fix it.”

There it was. You grabbed his arm to stop him, struggling now to keep your voice down. “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“It’s all my fault,” he blurted out. 

Your heart dropped. “What did you say?”

He huffed, and you felt him tug his arm away. “I… I didn’t know he was one of Capsik’s men. I always spoke about you at work with the other teachers- I had a photo of you at my desk for fuck’s sake.”

Another pause as you heard his sniffle, his tears glistening in the moonlight as they started to stream down his cheeks.

“Capsik had figured out all of the secret identities of all the heroes by then except for yours. I guess he was between someone else and you… but hearing how I spoke about you…. He figured it out. It’s my fault.”

You were shocked. You had no idea Sungchan had this festering in his heart for so long. You balled your hand into a fist. Capsik had used Sungchan’s love for you against you and him. 

You struggled a bit with the lack of light, but eventually you maneuvered your hands to meet Sungchan’s face, swiping the tears under his eyes away.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” His voice was louder now and you gently hushed him, hoping to not attract the attention of any potential wandering wildlife.

“I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t,” his voice was low again, and he hung his head in your hands.

“But I do. This isn’t your fault. He would have figured it out one way or another.”

“I should have known better.”

“And how could you?” You asked, and Sungchan responded in silence, his eyes still looking away from you. “All we can do now is do our best to lock that motherfucker away.” Your teeth were gritted as you finished the sentence.

“I want to kill him.”

“No, you don’t,” you replied quickly. Sungchan was kind, his moral compass steadfast compared to your own occasional gray one.

“I wish I could,” he whispered this so low, that you doubted you could have heard him if you were not solely focused on him. His hands reached up and held yours against his face. “We need to go.”

You nodded, and started again down the forest, now hand in hand.

You had reached the parking lot after another twenty minutes, noticing the singular motorcycle left in a far off parking spot.

“Something probably happened to Kun’s or Taeyong’s ride,” Sungchan shrugged as you neared it, noting the two helmets left on top. “Do you wanna drive?”

You shook your head. “If I remember correctly, I only got my certification like, a month before I was locked up.”

Sungchan chuckled. “Barely. Okay, just hang on tight.”

He strapped his own backpack behind you, and after fidgeting with the helmet for a moment, you were off. 

You were in an odd state of bliss for the first few moments. It was something special for you to be able to walk in a forest, but it was an all new thrill to be going fast towards your home clinging to Sungchan’s back. There were several rounds of weird turns that Sungchan had to maneuver through, considering the one entrance point in the city without Capsik’s militia was in a small back alley, but he did so with the ease of an expert. You stared up at the sky above you. Being alive was one thing, but to be so close to freedom? This was a euphoric feeling.

The city skyline was noticeable within the first few moments of your departure from the forest parking lot, and the closer you got the brighter the city lights got and the thinner the forest to your sides got.

A few more winding roads, some of which weren’t on actual roads but rather dirt paths, and you slowed down into the alleyway. You noted the other similar bikes and smart car and nodded. The next instruction was to leave the vehicle in the alleyway- Renjun and Taeyong would manage getting rid of them as soon as you two arrived. Getting off the bike, you handed Sungchan his backpack. 

With your helmets still on, you started out of the alleyway and onto an empty street. Despite the dim streetlights and the darkness of the glass on the helmets, you were able to make out that you were in a warehouse district. Sungchan grabbed your hand, and you moved quickly down the street, moving towards the warehouse at the end of the block.

***

Sungchan was most against the ambush plan despite the hand he had in it. He was perched on an overlooking rooftop, mask covering the bottom half of his face as he utilized the binoculars to watch the entrance of the mayor’s house. He only agreed because he knew having a large number of people breaking curfew on the evening of the gala would offer a good veil of coverage.

Taking out his walkie talkie, he spoke, “Crowds are forming outside of the Mayoral Mansion with several guards outside. The guards don’t seem to be doing much despite the curfew being in effect for most citizens. Gala guest arrival seems to be staggering, over.”

“Ambush team is in place and ready for signal, over,” your voice was more clear than Sungchan’s was, coming from the earpiece Lisa had given you. Sungchan was gnawing on his bottom lip as he continued to fret over you and the plan- he knew boldness and the element of surprise was all you had on your side, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. Two rooftops away from him was Yangyang who was watching over the back of the mayoral mansion. Sungchan turned his binoculars over to check on his friend and sighed as he watched him eat an apple without a care in the world.

Meanwhile, you checked for the fifteenth time that your bullet proof vest was secure under your dark hoodie, your hands trembling after you answered your fiancé. Bouncing on your toes, you watched Ten pace the basement of the candy shop that sat across from the mayoral mansion. 

You all had hardly gotten any sleep the night before in the warehouse. There was no temperature regulation so you all huddled together for warmth in your sleeping bags on the concrete floors. When you headed to the candy shop, there were several times you all had to hide in garbage cans from Capsik’s men, or try to blend in with the crowds heading home for the evening. 

The candy shop was owned by a friend of Yangyang, Sungchan, Jaemin, and Renjun. “We used to play soccer with him,” Yangyang spoke happily of this old friend. 

“I also am the person who got you guys most of your food,” Jeno countered once he let you all in. Now, Jeno stood on the top of the stairs with his ears pressed to the basement door, watching the news on his phone as he did so.

“What’s taking them so long?” Jisoo huffed, climbing up and down the stairs with her arm braces fully tightened.

“Doyoung, Jennie, Lisa, Kun and Taeyong are probably going to give us the signal any second now,” Renjun tried to soothe her, his back against the basement wall as he typed quickly on a laptop screen. He was monitoring the few cameras you were able to access that gave some insight into the gala itself. The view wasn’t much, but the information was still valuable nonetheless.

“In five minutes… the ambush team makes their entrance, over,” Taeyong’s voice hissed into all of your ears in that moment as if Jisoo had managed to summon him. You all then crowded around Renjun, Jisoo and Jeno even moved off the stairs to watch the cameras over his shoulder. There was one camera that mattered most- the area behind the mayoral mansion where two armed guards stood watch with a sniper monitoring from the roof.

“Please work, please work, please work,” Ten muttered to himself, squeezing his hands tightly together as you all watched with bated breaths. Then, silently, the two guards collapsed to the floor in a daze, darts jutting out from their necks.

“Cut camera twelve, over,” Jennie’s voice came through as if she was gasping for air, but Renjun’s fingers quickly obliged as he typed away at the screen, watching as the camera cut to black.

“Rear ambush team is all clear to go, over,” Yangyang’s voice hummed into your earbuds along with a brief chewing sound before being cut. You all looked over to Renjun, Taeil, Rosé and Ten.

“Looks like it’s our time to shine,” despite the words themselves, you watched Ten’s bottom lip tremble nervously. While the dart guns he and his sisters worked on knocking out the guards, you knew he was anxious to conduct the next portion of the plan. Rosé and Renjun would be supporting Taeil and Ten enter the mansion from the back as the rest of you would enter from the front with the crowd. Having your main medic enter in a different path with two other powered beings would throw off Capsik and give you all easier access to her, you all hoped at least.

“See you on the other side,” you smiled, having spared everyone a small hug before they left the basement.

“It’s almost time,” Jaemin hooked an arm through yours and Jisoo, the three of you now hanging on to each other as Jeno still watched the news.

“You’re okay here alone Jeno? If things go south…” your voice trailed off, the air hanging on to your unspoken words. Jeno brushed them off.

“I have my own escape plan if anything, and hey, I always said I wanted to help. I just couldn’t abandon the store for so long,” he glanced upwards, seeming to mull over the thought of leaving a store he had been curating for years.

“Front ambush team- take your places, over,” Taeyong’s voice chimed into your ears again and you all nodded towards each other. Lifting the hoods of your jackets and securing your masks, Jeno waved you guys off as you headed up the stairs and into the store's main floor.

“Roger that,” you spoke as clearly as possible, staring at the back alley door as you waited for the rest of the team to enter. Really, you were waiting for Sungchan to descend safely from the rooftop and enter the store.

“Do you have a lot of web fluid stored?” Jaemin asked mindlessly, turning his head to stare at the alley door.

“I sure hope so, my spiders still can’t reach here,” you admitted, saddened by the fact that even Pauk wasn’t nearby to ease your anxieties.

Then, the door knob began to turn and you all held your breath as it slowly turned. In walked Yangyang with an apple core in his hand, his mask pulled all the way down.

“Does Jeno have a trashcan somewhere?” he asked mindlessly, moving behind the register to then toss the core into a trashcan there. You were nervous now, staring at the door. Then, it opened again to reveal Sungchan. Releasing the breath you were holding, you dentangled yourself from Jisoo and Jaemin, moving to quickly hug Sungchan.

“Why didn’t anyone greet me like that?” Yangyang huffed. Letting go of him, you studied his face to both make sure he was okay and also sear it into your memory. 

You watched Sungchan swallow a lump in his throat. He didn’t move his eyes from yours as he put on his earbuds, and pressed on the speak button, “front ambush team is moving in, over.”

***

The night before you were all kidnapped was very vivid now. You had received a letter from Capsik with seven simple words and an attached photograph: Come to me willingly, or he dies. The photo attached was taken of the window from yours and Sungchan’s balcony in your town home- one of you two kissing with the laser of a sniper pointed on his back. 

“You can’t go!” Sungchan had cried that night, his hand squeezing the letter as you piled any supplies or armor into your backpack.

“What choice do I have?” you shouted back, still rifling through your things.

“He’s going to kill you all,” Sungchan was crying now, and you remember looking away from him to dig through your things, too much of a coward to look him in the eyes. 

“It’s either me or…” you whimpered. “You have your parents, your brother. But Sungchan, you’re all I have. You can live without me, but I can’t live without you.”

***

Why were you remembering this all now? You chastised yourself as you walked out of the front door of the candy store, all with your hoodies up and moving through the small crowd. The last time you had all approached Capsik, it was at his own personal estate. You were still filled with the same feeling of dread, but this time you had Sungchan by your side, and this made all the difference for you.

Pressing the button of your earbuds, you said loud enough only for the mic to pick it up, “get the lights.”

“With pleasure,” you didn’t have to look over to know that Jaemin was smiling as he moved through the outskirts of the crowd and towards the nearest streetlamp.

“Let’s move,” Sungchan instructed, the four of you awkwardly pushing your way to the front of the crowd and where you remembered guards being stationed. Ramming into a gate stopped you, and you stared down at their shoes before you as you heard a sharp chuckle.

“Stay behind the gate, idiot,” the guard taunted. You stood still despite the shifting of the crowd, making sure to not respond. “Hey, I was talking to you,” there was a shove on your shoulder, but you held your ground, tightening your grip on the gate that stopped at your hip.

“We need ten seconds!” Lisa’s voice came in sharp in your ear, and you tighten your grip further. They had to have been taking care of the snipers on the roof that faced the front, and you gulped as the guard began shouting at you.

“Dumb bitch, look at me when I’m talking to you!” they grabbed at your hood then, shoving it off. “Oh, a dumb old bitch,” for a moment you forgot that you had laced webs into your hair. “Wait a minute…”

“Now!” your hands moved before you fully registered Lisa’s instructions, lifting your head up to surprise the guard and snagging the gun from the guards hand. Quickly, and with a height and a stealth you haven’t been able to properly use in months, you easily leapt over the barricade. As you did, you slammed the barrel of the gun over the head of the guard, knocking them out cold.

“Dihcara! She’s really here!” you heard your name coming through the crowd, attention changing quickly as the lights in the street shut off. You began to back up, in the dim light seeing the other four bodies of guards knocked out cold on the floor, your accomplices now on the same side of the gate as you.

“Get to the doors, I’ll open the gates,” you instructed into your mic, watching from the corners of your eyes as the other three shifted and started towards the door. You looked at the crowd, a small hush having formed amongst them. Despite the dim light offered thanks to Jaemin’s outage, you watched all eyes zero in on you.

“You’ll have your city back tonight. Count to 60, and follow behind us,” you instructed. Lifting your hands, your webs attached to several pieces of the gate, and you yanked them out of place to leave a wide gap for the crowd to move. They stood still, and a murmur started through the crowd- a murmur of counting.

You turned around, and rushed towards the door as Sungchan opened the front door to the grand entrance hall.

***

Having entered the grand hall of Capsik’s mansion on his estate, the five of you were forced onto your knees, each bound by unique handcuffs containing each of your weaknesses. You watched his shoes pace before you, your eyes blurry with tears.

“Since none of you are going to remember this, I have a right to say this,” his voice was gruff, and you felt the cold tip of a gun move under your chin. You whimpered slightly as you were forced to look into the eyes of the man who you believed was going to kill you.

***

You shook your head, trying to remove the memory from the forefront of your brain as you all rushed down the hallway. You didn’t have time to admire the insane decadence that lined the area, instead swiftly attaching guards to the walls to subsequently disarm them with your webs, your eyes having to move quickly to get your body to work.

You stood in front of the banquet hall doors. The four of you turned around, chuckling at the collection of knocked out guards lining the hall- several stuck to the wall, a few seemingly gut punched, and one or two being knocked out by Jaemin’s electricity. Then, the sound of a large crowd moving snapped you all back to the task at hand. You moved forward first and opened the door to the banquet hall, freezing as you all looked at the scene in front of you.

“What the fuck,” your mouth hung open as the banquet hall doors shut violently behind the three of you. You could hardly pay it much mind, and stared at the giant web created in the center of the room.

“Doyoung! Rosé!” Jisoo foolishly rushed forward towards the web that her siblings were sewn into.

“Jisoo sto-!” A web attached itself to the strong girl, snapping her hands together in thick webbing. You were trembling, and slowly you all turned your gaze upward to see Capsik at the center of the massive web, a smile on his face as he watched you stare at his web creation in fear.

“How adorable. You all thought tonight of all nights I wouldn’t enforce a curfew,” he chuckled, slinging a web out and snatching Jisoo up only to place her next to her thrashing siblings. Every part of the team who you thought had entered safely was wrapped up in Capsik’s web, and the three of you now standing were shaken, unable to move.

Cries sounded in the door behind you, but you couldn’t look back. You couldn’t look anywhere else but on the massive web.

***

“Your birth mother was one of my whores. I couldn’t have my wife knowing about my bastard, so once she gave birth I had her killed and a couple of lesbians adopted you. You are my kid.”

***

“Let them all go!” Sungchan shouted next to you, and you were snapped out from the memory that had been clawing its way into the forefront of your mind.

Capsik chuckled, looking away from the three of you to the struggling members of the crew in his web. “I thought that hacker you had would have been able to figure out the reused footage we were projecting from the inside of the mansion,” Capsik was speaking over the cries of agony coming from the hall. “Oh well. Now I can jail all of the city’s defectors, execute you all, and fully have this city under my thumb.”

You locked your knees as best as you could before you shouted, “and you’d kill your own child?”

With this, his laugh boomed, and you felt as if it shook the room. Slowly, he detached himself from his web, webbing himself gracefully so that he was on the floor of the ballroom and for everyone to gaze down at him. “You may be my child, but you had the same purpose as everyone else here-,” he glared around the room, making eye contact with Ten, Jisoo, Jaemin, and Taeil, “to serve the syndicate.”

With this, several muffled cries came from those trapped in the web, and you clenched your jaw. You needed this information, you needed it. 

“The doctors were easy to pay off, the kids were chosen at random and injected with serums. All were spread out in ages and births so that the doctors didn’t get caught- except you. When that whore had you, I knew that you would be vial number 67.”

“Vial 67?” you couldn’t stop yourself, this horrible revelation removing any veil of innocence you had regarding your powers.

Capsik chuckled, “what? You all thought the power you had just… worked? No, lots of lives were sacrificed,” he clicked his tongue, smiling at the horror that crossed your face, “and you all still had the nerve to not fulfill your duties. No matter. I just took your formulation and will create more powered beings of my own.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to waste them?” Sungchan stepped forward boldly, and you anxiously grabbed at his wrist to hold him back.

“You… you absolute thorn in my side,” Capsik growled, and quickly you shoved Sungchan out of the way, your body being wrapped in a web that wasn’t your own. You gripped onto the the base of the web, hand shaking as you quickly turned to Jaemin, eyes wide.

“I’ll just kill him after I kill you… although that won’t be fun,” Capsik taunted as you moved your other hand to your chest, begging Jaemin with a silent expression. 

Understanding dawned on Jaemin's eyes, and in a fluid motion, he shot his hand forward. The room was filled with a violent blinding light, and you were knocked onto the ground.

You knew Jaemin didn’t use his electricity beforehand for two reasons- if he had gotten Capsik while he was still connected to his web, it would kill everyone connected to it, and if he had tried getting Capsik before, the chances of missing were high.

Using the web Capsik had connecting you to him was Jaemin’s safest bet in electrocuting Capsik.

Your vision was blurring, figures seeming to move all around you until the bright light went out and the darkness swallowed you whole.

***

You hated being inside the house for too long. The rubber on the brace stopped most of the electricity from getting to you, at worst leaving you with an occasional tremor in your hand. After properly locking Capsik’s cronies from their positions of power, and freeing all the prisoners he had locked up, the town was slowly returning to a proper state of normalcy. 

When Sungchan brought you home after your brief hospital stay, you were overwhelmed. You found yourself touching every bit of furniture, gracing your fingers over the spine of every book on your shelves, and feeling all the clothes that were yours. Everything was a bit of a mess. Furniture was in awkward positions, some books were thrown about and it looked like your closet threw up. Capsik had his men effectively dig through all of your items, and according to Sungchan, all that was taken was a few laptops, “We’ll just have to clean a bit, but it’s no bother.” 

He started to notice how each day you would linger in the backyard a little longer. He also noticed how you were afraid to leave your home at all. 

“Where are you going?” you asked him after a few weeks. You stood by the front door, holding his wrist anxiously.

“My love, we are out of food.”

“Taeyong can’t pick some up?”

“He said he hates getting groceries and we need to be normal adults again,” Sungchan sighed.

You and Sungchan were having dinner outside again another night. It had warmed up but it was still painfully cold at night. Sungchan had tightened the scarf you gave him at the asylum, and continued eating the ramen you had made.

“Are you mad at me?” you muttered, your shoulders so hunched over the bowl that your ring clanked against your bowl. You would make fun of yourself for simply not moving the ring from its chain onto your finger, but you were too exhausted to do so.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because… because I said I don’t want to be a hero anymore. And because I never want to leave the house… and because I’m-.”

“Stop. I understand. I couldn’t be mad at you,” he lovingly pinched your cheek, and you halfheartedly smiled in return. 

“Can you believe Ten’s moving away?” This was your attempt at a normal conversation.

“I can’t. I mean, it makes sense in a way. He lived with Jennie and she’s moving in with Rosé, so if there was anytime for a big change, it was now,” Sungchan hummed, watching the steam rise from his bowl. You were quiet for a moment.

“I want to move too,” you choked out, tears racing down your cheeks.

“Hey, my love, why are you crying?” Sungchan placed the bowl of ramen on the rickety table he made for you a week ago, set his hands on the side of your face and swiped his thumb across your cheeks.

“I… I… know that your family is here. I can’t make you leave them,” you hung your head in his hands, and he furrowed his eyebrows. There was a pause, the only sound now being your sniffles and the wind. Your words hung between the two of you, and the ache you had been feeling in your chest since you came to this realization became an overwhelming pain as you cried in his hands.

“You’re not doing that,” Sungchan’s voice was stern. 

You blinked. “Huh?”

“You can break up with me because you don’t love me, or because I’m not what you need or even want. You can’t break up with me because you don’t want to separate me from… here. I refuse.”

“Sungchan, you love it here. You love your job-.”

“I love you. Do you know how many schools in the world would love to have a history teacher who also helps with extra curriculars?”

“I’m a burden,” you sobbed, your hands reaching up to cover your hands.

“You are a being with incredible powers, hell, you can carry me and two other people without struggling. If someone tries to rob us, you’ll be the one defending me. You are not a burden,” Sungchan ignored the stinging on his cheeks as he cradled your head.

“I… I love you,” you held his hands to your face, your eyes seeming to sparkle as they stared up at him.

“I love you too, always,” he pressed his lips to your forehead then, already mapping where in the world you both would go next.

You didn’t want to leave your home until a few things were finalized. You were petrified of this town. In your life before, with your memories, you knew you loved it at some point. You loved your job as Private Investigator, moonlighting as a hero, and being involved in the community. Now, every morning you woke up and every time Sungchan left the house you were always left in disarray. Not even speaking to your spiders was helpful anymore.

Let us help! Let us help! It would be a different group everyday, and each time in tears you would beg them to just leave you alone.

You took to knitting again. It was nice to do something with your hands when you found yourself on the phone with some people for hours. You loved Jisoo and Ten, but they loved to talk more than anything else. You could get pretty far in knitting projects in just one conversation with the pair. 

Conversations with Jaemin were pretty easy. He would simply go over his week, check in on you, say that you should come out of the house to see everyone, and end the conversation. Speaking with Taeil certainly depended on the mood you would catch him in. Sometimes he would not stop speaking for hours on end, but other days you could tell he was simply nodding along as you recounted videos you had seen about the redwood forest or whatever hike you were looking at that day.

One day you were on the phone with Ten, working on a sweater as you nodded along. “I found an apartment already, I’m so excited.”

“Have you decided where you’re moving to?”

“Seattle! It’s a little pricey but the job I have lined up should cover it.”

“Seattle… isn’t that by like, a bunch of National parks?”

“How would I know? I’m not into that nature shit,” he admitted, and you shrugged. “Hey, when are you going to plan your wedding?”

“Hm I should probably not cry when I step out of my front yard before I think about planning a wedding.”

“Fair point. How about this- everyday, sit in the front of the house for a minute or two. Just to start adjusting. Maybe have Sungchan drive you around for a few minutes,” he was oddly encouraging. “Push yourself, but don’t break yourself either. We’re all here for you.”

So, you started doing just that. Before Sungchan would leave for work, you anxiously started walking him to the car. You looked over your shoulder a little too much for your own liking, but Sungchan was so happy to see you somewhere that was not the backyard that he couldn’t help but beam at you.

Healing isn’t linear. Somedays would be easier for you than others. That first time you went to a cafe a few weeks after your call with Ten, you felt amazing- like a normal person again (despite the spiders in the walls cheering you on), but the following day the thought of stepping out the front of the house made you want to curl into a ball and not move. It wasn’t perfect, you were not perfect. You were certainly imperfect, but you had to just remind yourself that you are a whole person- warts and all. 

Your first time seeing everyone again was at Ten’s going away party several months after you started going outside again. Ten lived about a block away and after taking several shots of tequila and having Sungchan talk you up, you had managed to take the plunge and walk hand in hand outside to your friends house.

“Oh my god she’s here!” Ten cheered once you arrived at his apartment, and despite the deep anxiety budding in the pit of your stomach you let everyone wrap you in a tight, warm hug.

“For not wanting to leave the house you look great!” Jisoo charmed, smiling warmly as she looked you up and down. You knew it was because she was afraid you were going to hide away again, but you didn’t say anything.

“I’m happy you're here,” Jaemin’s simple worded greeting was enough to make small tears well in your eyes, but you batted them away as you greeted and spoke with the people you managed to get you out of the asylum in the first place. You loved them all in different ways, and some form of you felt like a weight was off your shoulders as you allowed yourself to leave your house and speak with your friends.

You knew what you needed to do above all else, though.

Both of your mothers ashes were perched by your TV in the living room. It took several rounds of emails with the principal, but you smiled in the school grounds as you watched Jisoo and Jaemin dig the hole while you and Taeil watched them affectionately. The schoolyard lacked much shade, something Sungchan always complained about, so you were able to get a tree donated to the school with the stipulation that the soil could contain the ashes of both your Moms.

The tree was a little thin, but with the proper care, you knew it would grow and be loved by the students seeking to cool down on the warmer days.

“This is going to be a nice tree,” Jaemin whistled, earning a nod from you and Jisoo. You continued to look over your shoulder, the anxiety of being trapped again still sending a chill down your spine, but you continued to push the fear down. The school bell rang and students began pouring out from the walls of the high school, and you watched as several stared at the four of you standing in the front lawn with shovels around a skinny tree.

“We should probably get going,” Jisoo noted the rise in your shoulders, but you shook your head.

“You guys can go, I’m gonna… go in and surprise Sungchan,” it was the part of your plan you were most nervous about. The halls of the school reminded you so much of the halls in the asylum with its white linoleum floors- but you knew it wasn’t the same. You could do this.

“Are you sure?” Taeil asked, eyebrows raised in concern. You nodded, thanking your friends for their help.

“We’re always here for you,” Jaemin reminded you.

“I’m here for you guys too, thank you again,” you meant it. You had a bond no one could break, and even though Ten wasn’t physically there anymore, you all still spoke with him constantly.

Walking through the emptying halls, you by memory wandered through the maze to where Sungchan’s class was, nodding at the students who waved at you. It was strange. Most of them referred to you as Dihncara, but that simply wasn’t you anymore.

Peeking through the classroom window, you watched Sungchan finish cleaning up his classroom for the school year, the sleeves of his button down rolled up as he took down posters from his wall. He was so enchanting. With a furrowed brow and a pencil tucked between his lips, he was checking between the posters he had taken down and whatever notes he had on his desk, taking the pen out to mark something. 

Clearing your throat, you entered the classroom and watched as he looked up. “Do you think I could earn some extra credit?”

“I’m not sure about that, you missed the whole school year,” he teased, moving from behind his desk to wrap you in his embrace. “What are you doing here?” he kissed the crown of your head and you smiled into his chest before looking up to meet his gaze.

“Well, I’m not sure how long it’ll take to grow, but I planted my Moms in the school yard.”

Sungchan raised a confused eyebrow. “You did what?”

“I know you’re always talking about the lack of trees around the school, and my Moms loved helping people… so… they’re helping the tree we donated to the front of the school grow.”

He smiled from ear to ear now, rushing out of the classroom with you in so that you could show him the tree in the schoolyard. Memories of the night of your escape flooded into your consciousness- the linoleum floors, the horrendous lighting, but also, Sungchan’s hand holding yours.

“I love it… it’s perfect,” he held you to his side, admiring the tree despite the small crowd of students staring at the two of you.

Sungchan began slowly prodding you over the next few weeks about planning your wedding. You two had been engaged for over a year and a half all together at that point, and while you began packing up your boxes and told people you were moving away, this was the one thing you had no idea how to handle.

“Do you want a big ceremony? It’s not something I ever pictured for myself, honestly. But if you want one Sungchan, we can have one.”

“I think I might have a better idea,” Sungchan told you one morning as you clumsily made your coffee. It was perfect. Well, anything Sungchan did was perfect to you- even the wobbly table in the backyard that saw less and less of you everyday.

Taeyong decided to help you with the last bits of your move, grumbling as he helped sell off the furniture you two longer wanted. 

“Oh, I found this,” you spoke casually as you dragged a rather heavy box out from your bedroom closet to where Taeyong sat in the living room. Sungchan was playing a game of soccer with Renjun, Yangyang, Jaemin and a few other old college friends, leaving the two of you to try and mend your friendship. 

“Hm?” Taeyong looked up from the box he was taping up, confused. Sungchan had begged both of you to speak normally again, but all Taeyong did was hold contempt for you, especially after the announcement that you and his brother would be moving away.

“I had some old files from our PI days. I figured you would need them. You’re doing a great job on your own,” you complimented, to which he shrugged. He flitted through some of the folders before you sat across from him.

“I’m sorry,” your voice was softer now. You had been racking your brain for months since your memories returned as to why Taeyong was still so angry with you. From your recollection, you and him were good friends- and then it hit you. “I didn’t say goodbye to you when I left for Capsik because I knew seeing both you and Sungchan would stop me.”

Taeyong stopped digging through the folder, his fingers frozen as he met your gaze. “You're damn right I would have stopped you… Sungchan…he…”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t know. He was destroyed. I had to watch him everyday stare at that stupid livestream blaming himself for what happened. You and I were friends, and I had to find out you willingly went to get tortured by Capsik by my brother and his sobbing. He was destroyed,” Taeyong raised his voice.

“And I would never hurt him on purpose. I did what I thought was best, and it’s done now,” you stayed firm in your conviction. “I want you and I to be friends again… for him.”

Taeyong narrowed his eyes on you, still not convinced. Still crouched, you dug into your back pocket, and with shaking hands you handed Taeyong the ticket you were hanging onto to give to him.

“Is this…?”

“I want to guarantee that you’ll visit us at least once,” you studied his face, watching as his expression softened. He was quiet for a while, and you thought for a moment that he refused to speak again. “We made sure the apartment has a spare room just for when you visit.”

“Of course I would visit you guys. I… I forgive you. Just don’t break his heart again,” Taeyong smiled, and you knew that he meant every word.

***

The only person who knew beforehand was Jisoo as she was the only one amongst you all who could actually keep a secret. You had invited everyone else under the pretense of a costume going away party. Sungchan dressed up in a tuxedo mask costume, and you dressed up as an angel in an all white cocktail dress and silver wings to boot. If it was a different party, you would have likely dressed as Sailor Moon to match your fiancé, but you felt the least you could do was dress in all white.

“I can’t believe you’re moving to Seattle! Ten is so excited,” Jennie chirped, her bunny ears awkwardly sitting on her head. Rosé noted this too, and readjusted the ears on her girlfriend's head.

“He’s already planned our first few weekends there,” you chuckled, squeezing the soda in your hand a little tighter than normal. You were just so nervous, and the lack of food in your stomach was not making your nerves any better. What if Sungchan realizes how much better than you he is? What if he realizes he was making a mistake?

You heard the music stop, and watched as Jisoo pulled a chair out from the dining room to stand at the center of the living room. She awkwardly adjusted her Zelda costume. “Everyone! I have an announcement to make!”

You felt a hand loop through your arm, and you looked up to see Sungchan smiling at you, his eyes bright behind his silly mask. ‘I love you,’ he mouthed, making your heart race. ‘I love you too,’ you mouthed back, excited butterflies now fluttering in your stomach.

“What’s the announcement?” Kun called, sounding annoyed. He and Jaemin were dressed up as Mario and Luigi, so his irritation was certainly stifled by the silly fake mustache he had on.

“IIIIII will be ordaining a weddingggg,” Jisoo lingered on her words, an excited smile on her face.

“And you’re telling us because…?” Doyoung was dressed up as Shanks from One piece, his annoyance much heavier than Kun’s was.

“Because… the wedding is happening right now!” She looked your way then, and you hurriedly placed the soda on the counter as you and Sungchan moved to the center in front of Jisoo.

“Surprise,” Sungchan cheered, squeezing your hand once you faced the other.

“Holy shit,” Taeyong whistled, “Mom and Dad are going to be pissed.”

“Shush!” Jennie chastised, turning back to you two with a teary smile in her eyes, “I am so happy for you guys.”

To be honest, those few moments of the actual ceremony were a whirlwind. All you could remember was Sungchan- the look in his eyes as he smiled at you, the way he lovingly placed the wedding band on your finger, and how his hands felt as you slipped his wedding band on.

“With the power vested in me and GetOrdainedFastMinistries.org, I now pronounce you as married. Sungchan, kiss your bride!” Jisoo was crying at this point. Sungchan lifted his hands and gently caressed your face, staring at you as if to savor the moment.

“Come on,” you teased, moving forward and closing the distance between your lips and his, fully wrapped by his arms and laughing into the kiss as you heard everyone around you whoop and holler.

“I love you,” Sungchan repeated, leaning his forehead against yours.

“I love you, too, Sungchan.”

[waka-chan-out]

Just Once

Hanamaki Takahiro x fem!reader

non-canonical timeskip.

word count: 3.5k

content warnings: makki’s pov. honestly this is pretty much just friends to lovers fluff with some healthy smut thrown in at the end. technically unprotected sex but no attention is called to it.

based on this request

Makki was sure you didn’t even realize you were half asleep, so when he shoved your shoulder you nearly jumped across the room.

“What the hell?” you yelped. He laughed and stood.

“Not on my watch! Sit up. Come on. I got you.”

He dragged you into a seated position and grabbed a bright pink energy drink from the fridge. He flopped back down in front of you and held out his hand.

“Drink this.”

You saw what he was holding and snorted.

“Why?”

“So you can stay up with me, stupid. You asked to sleep over. I expect fully conscious best friend bonding time.”

You rolled your eyes but took the can anyway.

“I asked to sleep over, not stay up all night,” you said, popping open the can. You held it up to your lips and took an experimental sip.

“How is it?” he asked. You winced and shook your shoulders.

“It tastes like drugged up cotton candy.” You held it up to your lips, then hesitated. “Am I supposed to feel it as it goes through my veins?”

“You are, actually. It’s great.” He picked up his own drink and nearly spilled it on the carpet before taking a long sip. Using your logic, his was a deliciously metallic green apple flavor.

You moved to set your drink down but Makki caught your hands in his own.

“Oh, no you don’t. Come on. Open.” He sat up to between your knees and tipped the drink back toward your lips. “I can sip. You gotta chug.”

You made a muffled sound in protest but let the liquid fall past your lips anyway, grumpily holding his gaze as you drained a good portion of the can. He set it down beside you and shot you what was supposed to be an innocent smile.

“You’re an idiot,” you said.

“Indeed. Feeling more awake?” he asked. You shrugged.

“I’m sure I will once the heart palpitations set in.”

“I know CPR. You’ll be fine.”

He settled back onto the floor and resumed staring at the ceiling. You had bought him one of those little constellation lights for his last birthday, and since it was freezing outside they were the best possible substitute for stargazing. You laid down next to him, fingers laced on your chest. Quiet music came from your phone in the corner, virtually untouched since you arrived hours earlier. Matsukawa always joked that when you hung out together it was like you entered a void, completely impossible to locate until you were separated, and he was right. With you here, this was the only room that existed. You were floating around in space and would be sucked out into nothing as soon as you tried to leave.

You rolled over and leaned against your hand.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked. Makki didn’t look at you. He didn’t need to.

“Matsukawa,” he said. You scoffed.

“Why? Making a tier list of our friend’s eyebrows?”

“Hair, actually. His curls give him a pretty big advantage.”

“They are nice, I’ll give you that. But not nice enough to make up for his shitty personality.”

It wasn’t nearly as fun ripping into him when he wasn’t there to defend himself, but you both laughed anyway.

Makki considered your words for a moment. In all honesty, Matsukawa would place pretty high on all of those lists. A humor list too. And probably an overall looks list. He was certainly the more popular in high school, and had only come more into his own since graduating.

“You know, I always thought Matsukawa was the better looking of the two of us.” The words slipped out before he could even consider stopping them. He froze and turned to you. To his surprise you were studying his face with the interest he might have expected from a doctor and their patient. When you didn’t respond, he realized he was nervous. Why, he didn’t know, but he really, really needed you to respond.

“I’ve never told anyone that before,” he breathed.

“Issei is handsome,” you said. Well, fuck.

“Good, good. These years of insecurity were warranted. Good to know.”

You smacked his shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up while I speak to you.” He laughed but held his tongue. You continued. “Issei is handsome, but you are too. Just in different ways. Neither is better or worse.”

He stared at you stupidly. “Thanks?”

“Don’t say it like it’s a question! I’m being serious.”

“I can tell. It’s just a funny compliment to get.”

“Well, think about it. The sunrise is beautiful. The sunset is beautiful. Two things can be totally different and equally lovely at the same time.”

He gazed at you, face scrunched and unable to decide between confusion and understanding.

“Do you get it?” you asked

“Yeah, yeah. I think so.” He paused and considered what you said. “So, which am I?” You made a face.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“It’s your metaphor!”

“You’re sunrise, dummy.” You ruffled his hair. “I thought you’d get that.”

He smiled. He could work with sunrise.

“So, which do you prefer?” he asked. “Sunrise or sunset?” You huffed a laugh and your eyes fell to the carpet, where you had started playing with a loose string.

“I try not to play favorites,” you said. He watched your face carefully. A small smile played on your lips, the same one that always appeared when you were alone with him. “But there’s a reason I don’t drag you outside as the sun is going down.”

He stared at you, and you stared right back. An unexpected but deeply familiar feeling settled in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with it, so he swallowed hard and returned to laying on his back. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for being honest.”

“I know. But for my own sake, thanks.”

Makki could feel your eyes scanning his face, but he kept his gaze trained on the ceiling.

“You know, you’re good looking too,” he said.

“Yeah? You come up with a fancy metaphor for me?”

He snorted and turned onto his side again. Your lips were curled into the prettiest shadow of a smile and he could feel his mouth going dry.

“I’m not good at talking like that. But you’re just so familiar.” He reached out and absentmindedly traced his fingers over the back of your hand. He tried his best to not look at your face, because he could feel his heating up and the warmth was making it hard to think straight. He stilled his hand and laid it on top of yours as was finally able to piece his thoughts together. “You feel like home.”

When he finally looked at you your lips were parted in surprise. He hadn’t expected that reaction. Was what he said been that outlandish? You had been friends forever. Of course he felt like that around you.

“Thank you, Makki,” you said. His mouth twitched into a smirk.

“You don’t need to thank me for being honest.” The repeated phrase forced a laugh out of you, but he couldn’t quite place the look on your face.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“You just did,” you teased. He rolled his eyes and scooted closer to show he was serious.

“Okay, okay,” you said. “Shoot.”

“Why don’t you call me by my given name?”

You scoffed.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not true! There has to be a reason.”

“It feels too special. I don’t want to use it like that.”

“You use Mattsun’s!”

“Yeah, well.”

He frowned, amused, and leaned in closer. You wrinkled your nose and tried to back away.

“Well, what?” he asked.

“I don’t know how to explain it! It’s just different. Too intimate.” You said the last part quietly, like you didn’t want him to hear it.

“So why can you use his ‘intimate’ name and not mine?”

“Because it feels different with you.”

“Why?”

You were staring at him, an apprehensive look on your face. He paused, and the new information finally clicked. Oh.

You both hesitated.

“Do you want me to say it or do you get it?” you whispered.

“I think I get it?”

You blew out a frustrated sigh and covered your face with your hands.

“Don’t say it like a question!”

“Fine, fine, fine. I genuinely think I get it but I don’t want to be presumptuous.”

“So you get it but you’re not going to do anything to show me that you get it?”

“See? You get it.”

“Makki!”

“What? You know I can’t turn it off.” He grinned. “It’s like an impulse.”

“You’re an impulsive ass?”

“I am. That’s why we fit so well together. You’re an impulsive ass tamer.”

You let out a surprised laugh.

“And what does that make Issei?”

Makki waved his hand dismissively.

“Oh, forget about him. I wanna focus on us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, us. I’m still on this given name bullshit.”

“God,” you groaned. “Can we move on to another topic?”

“Not until I’m sure that I know what I think I know.”

“Hanamaki Takahiro, I am going to end your bloodline.”

He perked up and pointed at your face.

“Ah! You said it! Now just say it on its own.”

“Hanamaki.��

“Fuck! No. Not that one.”

You stared at him seriously.

“Just try it!” he begged. “Then I’ll stop bugging you.”

“Forever?”

“Hell no, just about this.”

You groaned and rubbed your hands over your face. You took a deep breath and set your jaw.

“Just once?” you asked.

“Just once. Unless I want to hear it again.”

“If you’re going to be weird I’m not going to say it!”

“Fine! Fine. I’m shutting up.” He motioned like he was zipping up his lips and handing you the key. You laughed and pretended to take it, closing your hand into a fist and laying it between you.

“Okay.” You took a deep breath. He pretended not to notice the way it faltered on the way out. You looked him seriously in the eye.

“Takahiro.”

Shit.

He expected it to feel silly, so much hype up for something incredibly stupid. But it wasn’t. It felt a little too good to be silly. It felt really good. It felt right.

He held out his hand. Your brows pulled together until he pointed at your hand, then his face. You let out a ridiculous laugh and held two fingers close to his mouth, pretending to unzip his lips again. He caught your hand before you could fully pull it away, cradling it against his face.

“You know, that’s the prettiest anyone has ever said it.” He didn’t register the words that were forming until they were out and he was cringing, waiting for you to tell him to fuck off. Instead, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Don’t be embarrassing.”

“What? The more you say it the less strange it feels for both of us.” He scooted against the ground, bringing his body even closer to yours. “Do it again.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Takahiro.”

Fuck.

You sat in silence. You stared at each other, unwavering and perfectly comfortable, neither of you making any move to turn away. Makki broke the silence with a sharp breath.

“Can I try something?” he asked. You looked apprehensive but he went on. “If I totally misread the situation that’s fine, I won’t be offended. Just, can I?”

You shrugged.

“I don’t care.”

Well, shit. He was suddenly frozen.

You know what? No. You were one of his best friends. If he fucked up, you’d tell him, then you’d laugh about it, and best of all, you’d never ever tell Matsukawa. That was the kind of friend you were. You were perfect. You were his.

He pushed up on his elbow and leaned over you. He could see your eyes widen in surprise, then settle back into something nervous but not apprehensive. He was so close to you. At this distance he could feel every pull of your breath against his face. God, he could do this. If worst came to worst you could laugh about it and return to being best friends. He might die as he did this, but if he was honest, he was more likely going to die if he didn’t.

He reached up and ran a hand through your hair. Then, he cupped the side of your face, leaned in, and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours.

For a moment he panicked because you didn’t move. You were frozen against him, and he had fucked up so horribly he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to laugh it off.

Then you weren’t frozen and there was a hand buried in his hair, and he let out the most relieved sigh of his life.

He swore he could feel you smiling as he finally let himself move, lips shifting against yours like they had always been there. You fit against him so perfectly it almost surprised him, but only almost. You had always been in sync, ready to back him up with a joke or laugh or the end of a snarky comment that he couldn’t quite get out. You were his other half and it only made sense that your lips were made just for each other.

He planted a knee on the ground between your legs and propped himself up above you, shivering when your hands ran down his sides.

Makki knew he was a good kisser, but with the responsive, welcoming way your mouth moved against his, he became painfully aware that he had never experienced a truly great kiss until now. He felt your tongue nudge his lips and he parted them, letting you deepen the kiss. You tasted like the stupid cotton candy energy drink and the sweet, familiar breath of someone that he adored.

Your fingertips danced along his abdomen, then his hipbones, finally coming to rest just slightly dipped under the band of his pajama pants. There was no longer the hesitance of friendship in your hands, and when he cradled the back of your neck, he realized the feeling was affecting him too. You were trembling, and so was he, drunk on the feeling of a familiar but entirely new body. Playful touches couldn’t compare to harsh fingers grasping at whatever skin they could find, eliciting small sighs and dizzying gasps.

He dipped his head down and planted kisses along your jaw. Your hands closed into fists and you tipped your head back, letting his tongue move down to you neck. He might have been leaving hickies. He honestly didn’t know. All he cared about was absorbing as much of you as he could as quickly as possible.

You brought up your knees so he was sandwiched between your legs and he shuddered. He thought the kiss would be enough. Hell, he didn’t even think you’d receive it this enthusiastically. But he could feel that he was turned on, and you were definitely going to be able to tell if he didn’t slow down a little. He brought his lips back to yours and tried to lower the tension, ease up the pace, but then your legs were wrapped tightly around him, forcing him to grind against you.

Oh, fuck.

You grabbed his face on either side and licked into his mouth like you were trying to own him, and jesus he was starting to believe you did. His arms were braced on either side of you, desperately trying to keep him from completely melting, but it wasn’t working at all.

He was distantly aware that he was hard, but he didn’t think about it until one of your hands had left his face to paw at him through his pajamas. He gasped and felt you smile into the kiss, rubbing your palm up his length, nearly able to wrap your hand around him through the thin fabric. He pulled away from your lips and looked at you seriously, or as seriously as he could when his brain was actively trying to vacate his skull.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

You ground your hand harder against him.

“Getting shy on me, Takahiro?”

He let out a shaky breath and shook his head. You stared up at him with a smug smile and he had the urge to kiss it off your face.

“Shut up,” he grumbled. You smiled and pulled him down by the back of his neck.

“Make me.”

He cut off any further comment by connecting your lips, trying to fight off a grin. You managed to maneuver the front of his pajamas down and he gasped as the cool air hit him. He braced himself against the floor with an elbow and you used the moment of surprise to wrap your legs around him and lock his hips against you.

He ground against you once and was met with the sudden, dizzying realization that you weren’t wearing anything under your loose pajama shorts. He filed that information away for later, when he could sit down and ask himself just how many times you had laid beside him like that. One of your hands gripped his hair tighter as he pushed himself against you once more, trying to give you the opportunity to take the lead.

“Jesus,” you said suddenly, reaching down and taking hold of his length. “Just fuck me already.”

That sentence alone could have killed him, but his train of thought was derailed as you lined him up between your legs and held onto his shoulders, begging him to get closer. He readjusted his forearm on the floor above your head and pushed inside of you with one fluid motion.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed. He tipped his forehead against your face, trying to regain some semblance of self control as he withdrew and thrust forward again. The way you groaned and dug your fingertips into his back made that nearly impossible.

He set a slow, grinding pace, letting himself swim in your quiet moans before silencing them with a kiss. Your hands moved back to his hair, holding him close as your tongue met his. The motion felt so natural that he barely registered that you had only kissed for the first time a few minutes ago. It felt like you’d been his forever.

You broke the kiss but Makki kept his face pressed against yours.

“Takahiro,” you sighed. “A little faster.”

He nearly lost control of his body as he obeyed, quick breaths leaving his lips involuntarily with every movement. Your moans were driving him crazy. He wanted to taste them, drink in every bit of you until you were shaking beneath him. He captured your lips in a kiss again and shifted a hand between your legs, circling your clit as he continued thrusting into you.

The sound that left your throat was muffled against his lips, but he swore he would never forget it. Your breath was quick against his skin and the kiss became messier with every motion. One of your hands flew around his bicep, like you were trying to anchor yourself as he continued pushing into you.

Fuck, Makki was close. The harder you panted, the tighter your grip on him was, the faster he hurtled toward the edge. You were moaning into his mouth, and his fingers were moving faster between your legs, and his arm was cramping just a little bit from holding himself above you, but then you were breaking the kiss and your back was arching and holy shit.

Makki’s hips stuttered and he let out the most embarrassing, full-bodied groan he was capable of. He had to snap his other arm up to avoid collapsing on top of you. He stopped moving and basked in the little shocked breaths that left your body, even after you had stopped shaking. He rolled off of you and closed his eyes.

“Holy shit,” he said. Laughter cut through his words, but he could tell you were having the same problem as your chest heaved. He could see you rearranging your clothes out of the corner of his eye. You paused while readjusting your shirt.

“Makki, you gave me a hickie,” you said. He shoved your arm.

“You don’t get to call me Makki after I just made you come.”

You laughed loudly and flicked his head. He continued staring at the ceiling until he felt you turn over and lay a hand on his chest. He looked down and you were studying him, an amused expression on your face.

“Think Issei will know something’s up?” you asked.

“Of course,” he said. “He notices everything. But deny till you die, right?” You smiled and he pressed a long kiss to your lips, relishing the feeling of your breath dancing over his skin.

This was the only room in existence. You were the only person in the universe, and yours were the only lips he had ever kissed. Nothing mattered besides you and him, right now, exactly where you were supposed to be.

[hxseok-honee]

sundress || part 23

written portion under the cut!

sundress [part 23] || say it back

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : [you always end up stickin’ to me // somehow, somehow] stuck with me x the neighbourhood

taglist [open] :

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_________________________________

Wednesday, 01 December, 7:16pm

“How’d you get in?” Y/n’s standing in the doorway to her bedroom, peeking her head out and seeing that Yoongi’s almost at the top of the stairs. He’d texted her that he was here, but by the time she’d found her slippers, he was already inside Gryffindor Tower.

“Some first year let me in… I think he was scared shitless by the fact that I’m a Slytherin and on the brink of death.” He’s not wrong -- the closer Yoongi gets to her door, the more she can tell how out of it he is. He looks pale, dark circles sitting under his eyes like bruises. Dragging his feet, he’s holding back a yawn as he finally comes to a stop in front of her.

“You studied hard today.” It’s a simple observation, made mostly on the basis of how heavy his bag looks, filled with textbooks and notes he’d probably had to beg Jin for. Yoongi only nods, finally letting out the yawn he’s been fighting.

“Who knew you actually had to do work in order to pass your classes?” He gets like this every finals season, cramming and pulling all-nighters to make up for his absolute hatred of consistent studying. Y/n had long stopped scolding him for it, only leaving him to sleep undisturbed for the first few days of winter break once all the exams were over.

With a smile of comfort, Y/n reaches for him, taking one of his hands in both of hers and pulling him with her into her room. Before he can step fully inside, however, he’s putting his other hand on the door frame to stop himself, shaking his head. She shoots him a look of confusion.

“You’re not coming in?”

He shakes his head again, stepping back to stand safely outside in the little corridor. Y/n moves toward him, confusion written all over her face. Yoongi grins fondly at her.

“It’s better if I don’t.” Y/n knows what he’s trying to say -- that he’ll only distract her from studying and would rather leave her to do her work in peace. She appreciates how considerate he’s being, but it doesn’t mean she’s not a little disgruntled.

“But you came in last night.”

“Yeah, I did. And this morning you were scrambling to do last minute review.”

“I would have done that whether or not you’d stayed.” She’s lying, and they both know it. Yoongi’s well-aware of Y/n’s meticulously planned study schedule. He knows how flustered she gets when she doesn’t stick to it, but he’d been unable to resist her invitation to stay the night after a whole day of cramming for his own exams. He’d missed her so much yesterday -- just as much as the day before and just as much as today -- so he’d given in, thinking of nothing but being able to hold her while he slept.

But when he’d seen how crazed she’d been this morning, pacing her room frantically while she’d tried to absorb the information in her notes, he couldn’t help but feel guilty that she’d stopped studying last night to come to bed. So he’d spent the day building his mental strength, reminding himself again and again that he couldn’t say yes to her tonight. No matter how much he wants to.

“I promised myself I’d let you study.”

Y/n pouts when he says it, and it takes all of Yoongi’s self-control not to step into her room and agree to stay the night again, if only to put a smile on her face.

“But I finished all the important finals today. Yesterday was my Herbology thing, and today I had Transfiguration, and those were the hardest ones. I just have Potions tomorrow, which won’t be too bad -- and we have Charms on Friday, so we have to study for it together, anyway!” She’s searching for excuses at this point -- they’d already agreed to study for Charms tomorrow night, so there’s no reason Yoongi won’t see right through her flimsy arguments. But she can’t help wanting to keep him here.

Even though she’d admittedly been a bit stressed this morning about her exam, all day she’d only regretted not being able to stay in bed with him longer. He’d looked so pretty sleeping peacefully in her bed and equally pretty when he’d woken up confused and frazzled that she was across the room instead of next to him. If she’s honest, he’s all she’s thought about today.

Yoongi tilts his head and eyes her while she tries to come up with a reason for him to stay, his chest swelling in endearment.

“The last two days, you were totally fine and I was the mess -- what’s up with you? Did you miss me or something?”

She nods right away, not even bothering to hide it anymore.

“Yeah, I did -- so you should stay.” She feels her face warm when Yoongi snickers, clearly amused by how forward she’s being.

“You know I can’t — but I’ll stay tomorrow night when we study. How’s that?”

Y/n sighs, nodding because she knows he’s right, that she won’t finish studying tonight if he walks through that door. But then she shoots him a look, because he’d walked all the way up the stairs from the library to her room just to not stay, and Min Yoongi is fundamentally opposed to unnecessary physical exercise.

“Why’d you come all the way up here, then? Just to say hi?”

Yoongi snorts, nodding as he steps in close to her.

“To say hi… and to get this.” Leaning in, he sets his lips on hers, inhaling deeply because he’d really needed this today. When she snakes her arms up and around his neck, he smiles, only angling his head to fit his mouth against hers more comfortably.

It takes him a minute, but he finally pulls away, only going so far that his lips are still brushing against hers when he speaks to her, almost breathless.

“Yeah… that’s definitely what I came up here for…”

Y/n smiles, rolling her eyes fondly at him.

“You walked up all those stairs for a kiss?”

“It was one hell of a kiss — I feel like I can keep studying now.” Yoongi can’t help the bubble of laughter that escapes his chest when she leans her head forward on his shoulder and sighs, a quiet giggle slipping out.

“You’re an idiot.” He’s heard that line a million times, more often in the months they’d been pretending to date. But it warms him every time, because he knows she only says it when he’s making her smile against her will. When she can’t help but adore him. He’s quite fond of those three words, if he’s honest.

“I should go… you have to finish studying and get some sleep.”

Y/n lifts her head, frowning slightly. Yoongi leans in quickly, catching her lips just as she’s parting them to complain again. He kisses her once, and then again when she still looks like she has something to say. She opens her mouth one more time, but he can see that she wants to smile, so he knows she’s only pretending so she can get another kiss out of him. He gives her one anyway.

And then he steps back, prying her arms gently from around his neck and putting some distance between them — he can feel his willpower slipping away and he knows he needs to leave now before he ends up not leaving at all.

“I love you.” It comes out with the same tone he’d use to say goodbye, because he’s already backing away toward the stairs, but he’s waiting for a response before he fully turns and leaves. Y/n only leans against her door frame, watching him, so he stops. He refuses to leave until she repeats it back to him, something she’s clearly aware of, if the smirk on her face is anything to go by.

“Say it back, asshole.” He sounds so affronted that she can’t help but throw her head back and laugh, entirely amused by him. When she looks at him again, she sees that he’s feeling the exact opposite, a deadpan expression on his face while he waits.

She opens her mouth to echo the words back to him, because she’s not so terrible as to leave him hanging forever, but then she’s pausing. Because Hoseok’s words from Monday night are suddenly flashing through her mind.

Maybe you’re… actually attracted to him?

Y/n looks Yoongi over, taking in everything about him all at once — the way he’s standing, running his fingers through his hair while he shifts his weight back and forth on his legs. The way he runs two fingers over his collarbones, which he only does when he feels awkward. The way she can see the black ink of her name peeking through the white fabric of his uniform. The way his lips are just swollen enough from kissing her that she feels proud to have been the one to do that to him.

The way he’s looking at her right now, eyes full of bemusement because he’s wondering what she’s thinking about. He’s waiting patiently, because he really isn’t going to leave until she says it back to him. He never does. Just like he’s never left anything unfinished between them, always making certain, even if nothing else in their lives is going right, that at least they’re doing okay.

So, while she’s not quite sure what the difference between adoration and attraction is when it comes to Min Yoongi — while she’s not sure about Hobi’s speculation, that what she’s feeling is anything more than just the affection she’s always had for this boy in front of her — she is sure of one thing.

“Yeah… I love you, too…”

[lyricsofravensong]

The beat of a longing heart

• Jake x MC • hurt/comfort, fluff • ~ 1 675 words + a chat•

• request by Anon:  hey, i don't know how to start this ask but... well i got the news that my favorite drummer has passed away and i can't deal with it without thinking about jake comforting MC... i think this is weird and I must be mixing things up, but it's a comforting thought...you are my favorite writer on tumblr out of all the blogs and i am always happy to read your works so if you are accepting requests could you please write something about jake and mc? thank you😢❤️

• Your evening was supposed to be a sad song until the end, but then an unexpected melody appears from the rain.

A/N: Here it finally is! 🌠 Thank you for the request dear anon, I hope you're doing well. 💕 Sorry again for being so slow! 😖

I wasn't sure if you wished for a chat or a written story, so I combined them a little. :) I was really struggling with the editing but this is the best I can offer at the moment and I don't want to make you wait any longer. I hope so much I'm not letting you down and this story gives you the comfort you were missing. 💚

And thank you @dreamer-writer-fangirl for the encouragement! ❤

When you're happy, the beat of the music resonates with your cheerful heart; it dances and flutters in every corner of your body, making you feel powerful and alive.

When you're sad, the lyrics of the songs portray the pain your heart is aching with; they poke and stroke every inch of your bleeding soul, challenging and healing.

The song of your evening starts with a heavy sigh escaping from your lungs. Disappointment burns in your throat, but you swallow it down painfully. It's not Jake's fault that the theme of your day had been nothing but a repeating chorus of a sad song, and it seems like the evening is going to continue the manner. But you can't deny that the absence of his presence is one note more to the chord of your grief.

Rain sets the tune by hitting the roof with a sound that's reaching the rumbling measures of a thunderstorm. The ambience of it is making you even more anxious.

The beat comes in as a pulse of your longing heart, echoing in every cell of your body. Your mind is helplessly out of tune and can't keep up with the racing tempo.

You give up on tears as the rain makes a crescendo that covers the voice of your sobbing. Your thoughts are a swirling mess of unsettling beats, counting every person there is for you to miss. A wave of sorrow floods over your soul and the pouring rain invades your brain until your tears turn to raindrops. 

You cry for a long time and the static rhythm of the rain is like a stereo to your feelings.

At first, the careful knocking on the door gets lost in the mixed concert of percussion going on in your head. When it comes again stronger, you sit up slowly. You have no intention of answering it, a single glance at your tear-stained face in the mirror confirms that. You're sure that the intruder will give up quickly since who in their right mind would be outside in that weather. The doorbell rings once and is followed by the uplifting tone of your phone receiving a message. 

Your heartbeat drops tragically as you read the text Jake had sent.

Tension builds up as you hurry to the door without a second glance at the mirror. The beat of your heart drums in your ears when you yank the door open. And then - every sound goes silent. 

There's Jake, standing in the rain outside your door. His black hair is dripping wet as well as his hoodie of the same color. In contrast to them, he's holding a white plastic bag in his hand, phone in the other. Your eyes meet his and you stare at each other equally shocked. The shaken expression on Jake's face indicates that you look as awful as you felt a second ago. 

"I can't stop the rain, but… here I am. Ready to hold you," Jake says and a hint of embarrassment appears on his face. You follow his every move as he puts his phone in the pocket of his hoodie and then - trying to figure out what to do with his freed hand - runs his fingers through his wet hair. 

"I hope you're not bothered by me intruding like this," he mumbles awkwardly, making a shy glance towards you.

Words get caught in your throat and come out pitifully feeble, "Or course not, but… how?" Your voice breaks and you have to gasp for breath. "How? Why?"

There's a clear twitch on Jake's face by the tearful sound of your voice. For a minute he looks almost panicked as he struggles to find the next words.

"I was getting this when you texted me." He lifts the plastic bag so you can see the logo of a nearby Chinese restaurant. "Rain offers some cover so it's safer for me to be out. I was so insanely worried about you that my legs just carried me here."

Your mind is gradually catching up with the new tempo of this turn of events. Another wave of tears is blurring your eyes and you slap a hand over your mouth to cover the weird grin spreading on your face.

"And I'm glad they did," Jake continues, pulling the corner of his lips into a sympathetic smile. "I'd hate to think of you being alone like that."

You shake your head in disbelief at this unexpected change of key in the earlier flatness of your emotions. You let out a trembling breath. A new verse in the song of your evening starts when you sprint out in the rain and throw yourself into Jake's arms. You bury your face into his chest and let out the forceful sobs. Jake drops the bag on the ground and wraps his arms tightly around you. 

The drumming of the rain fades to the background as you stand in its shower, crying the whole record of your sorrows over Jake. He listens to it quietly and doesn’t let go even when you raise your hand to wipe your nose on your sleeve. Gradually your weeps quiet down along with the rain which is throwing the last separate drops on your already damped clothes. You rest your head on Jake’s shoulder and squeeze the back of his hoodie. 

“Have I ever told you why I like the rain?” his voice asks softly beside your ear. 

“No,” you sniffle. “I don’t believe you have.”

“I like it because it reminds me of you.”

“Why is that?” You raise your head to look at Jake’s face, forcing him to loosen his grip which he fixes by resting his hands behind your lower back. 

“It was pouring when I contacted you for the first time,” he smiles. “That was the day my life changed. For me, rain symbolizes the unpredictability of life. I feel like anything is possible on a rainy day.”

“That’s something you just proved to be true,” you laugh and brush a strand of hair aside from his forehead. Jake stares at your face with such intensity that you suddenly become very aware of your swollen eyes and runny nose. You blush and lower your head.

“I’m sorry about crying so much. I know I look hideous.”

Jake sets his hand gently on your cheek, making you look up at his face again as he examines yours even closer. 

“No, you’re still fascinating.” His whisper makes your heart sing with emotions you have never heard so vividly before. 

“My face is all swollen and full of tears…” you splutter in loss of words. 

Jake’s smile only widens and he wipes your cheeks tenderly with his fingers. “They’re just raindrops.”

You chuckle, “Then you can stop the rain after all.”

Tears of the sky are still dripping from the trees and corners of the roof all around you. They form an uneven rhythm of a harmony you’re now hearing differently; not as an echo of your pain, but more as a ballad for sadness.

But sadness is not the theme of your feelings anymore when you share the Chinese with Jake on the couch in your living room. No food has ever tasted so delicious as this slightly soaked and chill portion of noodles eaten straight from the container, taking turns of using the one pair of chopsticks Jake had with him.

The second verse of your evening is composed from comfort. After the food is finished and Jake’s drenched hoodie is drying on the back rest, you lean against his shoulder and slowly give lyrics for your sadness by telling him all about your previous distress. His t-shirt is wet too, but you forget it when his arm wraps around you, pulling you closer to his side. 

Jake's presence is a lot like music; without saying much he still makes you feel understood and healed. His comfort is mainly instrumental but filled with so many soothing nuances of warm touches and thoughtful nods. He is the melody your evening missed. He is the lyrics for your love and the stereo for your desire; resonating stronger than the drumming of the rain. He makes you believe that just like music, your feelings are also made to be shared with your loved ones. And as you let your head fall to his lap and turn on your back to meet the softness of his eyes, you realize that this one you love very much. 

Rain starts a new solo on the roof with full force as the song of this evening comes to the bridge. Jake bends down to you, his intention written clear on his face. Still he stops hesitantly right above your mouth, pausing the music just before the beat drops. But your heart is singing and you hit the play by reaching your hand behind his head and pulling him down to your lips. The kiss launches a full symphony inside you and every note makes you yearn for more. 

On a short rest between kisses you caress Jake’s cheek and say, “Now I hope it will never stop raining.”

“I thought you hated it,” Jake points out. 

“Not anymore,” you mumble while your attention is drawn to the way Jake’s mouth forms the words he speaks and how his lips are tuning into an amused smile. 

“What made you change your mind?” he asks. 

“No one in their right mind would go outside in that weather, so you have to wait here until the rain is over.” 

When you're in love, music understands your every feeling; the fluttering happiness, the aching yearning, and the healing comfort. All the lyrics tell the story of the two of you, of every smile and tear you’ve had. 

A perfect harmony is formed when two beats of two longning hearts meet each other in a beautiful duet. 

This song of your evening does not end yet, the music of your hearts continues beating in the calming dusk of a rainy day.

_____________________

It was actually raining every time I wrote this. 🤭☔

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper - Part 13

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem! Reader Warnings: Talk of parent death Length: 2.1k words Notes: Okay bitches here we go. I’ve got 3 kids doing online schooling, a desk chair that just broke while I was halfway through typing this out, a raging headache, and couldn’t be fucked to edit. I love you al, thank you for sticking with me and this little brain baby of mine. My guidance counselor from high school can suck my dick, “You’re not a creative writer, Cher, you should considering taking Home Ec as an elective instead” I digress....

Series Masterlist

"No." You glared at him and squeezed his hand harder, "You're doing that thing again.

Frankie's head whipped over to stare at you, shocked by your assertive tone.

"You're pulling away. You're stressed, out of your depth, don't know how to deal with it and so you're pulling away again-"

"You don't understand," Frankie interrupted you, shaking his head and trying to pull his hands out of your grasp. This only served to strengthen your resolve, and your grip on him.

"No." You declare again, trying to stay calm and have a mature conversation despite the tension and running emotions. "You told me to give you time to get your thoughts straight and vocalized. I can't do that if I'm not here to hear them. I can't understand your predicament if I leave. So," You moved so you're sitting cross-legged in front of him, making eye contact in an effort to show him he had your full attention. "Why don't you tell me what that phone call was about so we can start figuring it out, together."

The situation was more complex than you ever could have imagined. Frankie's ex-wife, Karla, had died. Her car had been hit by a drunk driver. Annie, thank the gods, hadn't been in the car at the time. Before she'd died at the hospital, Karla had managed to say a few words to the paramedics. At the time they didn't make sense, however, the paramedic had taken the time to write the words down and included the scrap of paper with the patient's chart. This evidence, as it turned out, had been monumental during the resulting legal battle for Annie, all of which took place without Frankie even being notified.

Child services, lawyers, extended family, and even doctors had been involved in the court proceedings. All arguing over the future of the six-year-old girl. All believing that they knew what was best for her, most believing that she should live with them, some having the gall to pretend that they weren't aware of the sizable life insurance payout she was about to receive.

Eight words. Eight simple, beautiful words whispered through the broken, bloody lips of a woman who knew she was about to die. A young girl's future was being held in suspense, and as fate would have it, a wise and sentimental judge was overseeing her case. Eight words were all it took to convince him that Annie's mother knew what was best for her own child.

"Francisco Morales. Trust with her, he's ready now."

From the time Frankie had received the phone call from Karla's family lawyer, the two of you had two days to prepare for Annie's arrival. Frankie worked his magic and erected a wall across the bedroom portion of his loft, allowing for the little girl to have some privacy but not feel like she was being closed in. 

He had fretted for a least twenty five minutes over colour swatches at Hank’s Hardware before coming to the conclusion that he should leave it white and have Annie chose her room colours once she had settled in. He bought himself a new couch, as well, that would convert into a bed and serve as his bedroom for the time being.

The conversation you never had a chance to have with him was still in the back of your mind, but you understood that moving in together as a couple was hard enough. Moving in together with a kid neither of you knew, whose life had just been turned upside down against her will, would be catastrophic. Instead, you focused on being as much of a rock for Frankie as you could.

You made a trip to the city and bought girls bedding, some stuffed animals, and a few little decorations to help Annie feel like the new space was special for her. You also thought to pick up comfort food that a kid might crave, knowing that when you were six the best way to your heart was chocolate. Just before you left the city, a sign caught your attention and had you swerving to change lanes, normally you'd feel slightly bad about your obnoxious driving but today you just waved your middle finger at the rear window in a mock salute.

The flower shop had so many bouquets and you had no idea what kind of flowers the little girl might like. You also had the morbid realization that bouquets might remind her of all the flowers she surely saw at Karla's funeral. Just as you began to second guess yourself, a stand near the back caught your eye and made you smile.

The day of her arrival came quicker than you felt prepared for, never mind how Frankie must be feeling. He hadn't had too much time to worry about how having his daughter would change his life, but once the two of you were standing in his driveway doing nothing but waiting, the nerves had finally settled in. You could see deep, calming breaths he was taking as they condensed into little clouds in the freezing air.

Grabbing his clenched fist, you felt his fingers relax enough to allow your gloved ones to slide through them.

"It's going to be weird for everyone, she's probably nervous too." You weren't sure if the words were reassuring or not but nervous talking seemed to be your forte so you ran with it. "I mean, she's probably sad that she's leaving everything and everyone she's always known, excited about moving to a new place, then feeling bad that she's feeling another emotion besides grief. It can be hard to juggle loss and hope. Just show her how much you love her and be honest about why you couldn't be with her before. Kids are smart and are aware of way more than adults give them credit for."

A few moments later a black sedan slowly crept up the driveway. You wanted to stay, to meet the little girl but had the feeling that Annie and Frankie were going to need time to figure out their relationship without another person in the mix. Suddenly having a new parent was going to be hard enough on the little girl, you were afraid that she might see you as trying to replace her mom and push you away.

Rubbing Frankie's back for one last show of reassurance, you kissed his shoulder then took a few steps back. You figured this was the best way to be there to support him but also staying in the background for the time being. Before the car could fully come to a stop, the rear door was flying open and, in a blur of movement, a little body was flying out of it towards Frankie. You know how people will say that there are times in their lives where important moments fly by so fast they barely have time to enjoy them? Well, this wasn't one of them.

As Annie barreled her way towards Frankie, you saw in slow motion how his handsome face went from being creased with worry, to eyebrow raised shock, to breaking out in a teary smile. He had just begun to crouch down and open his arms in anticipation of holding his little girl when instead she ran right past him and locked herself in one of the sheds.

Time continued to move in slow motion, making it all the more heartbreaking watching your boyfriend's face crumple, the tears of joy turn to tears of pain as he recovered from his initial excitement and realized that his child didn't want to see him.

Tiny, muffled sobs broke the moment and brought time, and the horrible situation, back into focus. The Child Protective Services worker who had accompanied Annie from California was calling apologies to Frankie while running after the little girl, trying not to slip in the snow in her hurry.

You wanted to go to him, to lend him some form of comfort, but you were also aware that some types of grief don't appreciate witnesses. Deciding to stick around and be helpful in the background, you made your way into the loft and started making coffee and sandwiches, foreseeing a longer stay for the caseworker than initially thought.

Nearly forty minutes had passed before you emerged again with food and drinks on a tray and the two adults were still talking to Annie through the cracks in the door. She had stubbornly refused to come out, demanding that she be returned to her home at once and that she hated snow.

Once you had set down the tray and cleared the snow off a picnic table, Frankie thanked you with a kiss to your temple and introduced you to Sharon after he convinced her to take a break from the negotiations. Sharon, who had been with Annie since the day of the accident, began filling Frankie in on what had happened to his daughter in the past month between sips of coffee. He was given a folder with notes from child psychologists, doctors, a letter from her maternal grandparents, and a journal Sharon had kept that described the ways Annie had been processing her grief.

While they talked, you decided to walk over and sit next to the door of the shed, laying a wool blanket down to protect your butt from the cold. You had no idea what to say to the girl but you figured she might like to be reassured she wasn't alone. Settling down, you dug into your own sandwich and hummed quietly to yourself.

You nearly choked on your next bite when you heard a soft voice singing along with the tune you'd chosen.

"Lavender blue, dilly dilly. Rosemary Green, if you are king dilly dilly, I'll be your queen."

After you'd repeated the song twice more, you stopped the tune and said softly,

"I've never heard those lyrics before, they're different from how I learned them."

A long pause followed, making you worry that you'd offended the child back into silence.

"How do you sing it?" Came the sweetest little voice, made all the more adorable with the barest hint of a lisp.

"We always sang, 'Lavender green', for one. Which never made any sense to me so I really like how you did it-"

"Yeah, cause lavender is another name for purple," she interrupted you with a matter-of-fact tone, "saying it's green is just weird!"

"Hmmm, it might be different," you conceded, seeing the opportunity for a lesson. "But either way you sing it, it's still a really pretty song, isn't it? Things can be different but it doesn't mean one is only good and one is only bad. Each version just had different good things."

Annie went silent again but this time you didn't worry about it, you knew she was thinking about what you said and needed time to apply it to what was happening right now. You eventually heard the shifting of metal and the creak of wood and had to will yourself to sit still and calm. The way you had let her approach you had worked so far, jumping up out of excitement could possibly erase all the progress you'd made so far.

Your patience was rewarded when Annie stepped out of the shed and lowered herself so that she was sitting on the blanket right next to you. Turning your head just enough to see her in your peripheral, you noticed how dull her eyes looked. Her hair was a mess and her skin looked pale for a kid who had been living under California's sun.

"My mommy is dead."

The way it was stated as a fact, with very little emotion, broke your heart. She was so little, so young, and so unable to fully grasp what kind of future had been ripped away from her.

"I know, I'm sorry that that happened to your mom."

"That man is my daddy." She was pointing at Frankie now, who was still engrossed in his conversation with Sharon.

"He's a pretty lucky guy to have you."

"That's the lady who has been taking care of me, she's been nice."

You were a bit out of your comfort zone with the conversation but there was no way in hell you were going drop it so you cautiously trudged on. Maybe verbalizing relationships and titles was helping her process?

"I'm very happy to hear that you've been staying with someone nice. Your dad is a really nice person, too, ya know? You should see the nice bedroom he's set up for you! I even helped him bake you an apple pie. Do you like apples? Or pie?" Her eyes went wide and a spark of happiness suddenly lit her face, making her appear more childlike than before.

"Is this an apple farm?" She practically squealed. “Like in My Little Pony?!”

Her outburst had finally drawn the attention of the other two adults, who were now only realizing that Annie had exited the shed. Frankie's heart skipped a beat at the sight of his two girls, beaming at each other. The twinge of jealousy from knowing that it had been you to draw her out was quickly squashed by how proud of you he was. He had been a little worried, although he hadn't voiced it, that his kid wouldn't take kindly to having a woman around but those fears were obviously for naught.

Part Fourteen 

[adorethedistance]

Baby Fever - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, discussion of reproduction, a child (no-)

Words: 2502

Summary: You and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own.

A/n: This was written in like three hours and I’m exhausted it’s skimmed at best but this is just something I’ve had in my mind and as y’all know by now, writing fics is how I retire my dreamland scenarios of romance. Enjoy my brain giving 82% of her all :)

“You ready, little one?” I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat. Owen and I had been wanting to plan a zoo date for the longest time, but never had the opportunity to until now; when Jer and Carolynn needed a well-deserved day of rest, and Charlie was back in Dieppe for the next month, that left Owen and me as the next in line to take care of 10-month-old baby Shada. The two parents hadn’t decided on a name until after she was born, so the rest of our friends got comfortable with referring to her as ‘baby Shada’ or ‘CJ’ short for ‘Care and Jer’s’ kid.

Owen and I left the house at 8:45 sharp to get to the park in a timely manner. We weren’t too concerned with arriving when the park opened seeing as it was a Wednesday morning in the middle of February. Children should be in school, non-actors should be in the office, and surely other young babies and new moms should be attending mommy and me yoga classes or something.

“Do you have the bag?” I ask, surveying the car for any loose items.

“Yeah, it’s on the floor. Do you want me to carry the bag or the baby first?”

“You babysit first. I can handle tickets.” Owen nods and gingerly unbuckles the car seat to scoop up the currently calm child and slip her into the black baby carrier we opted for instead of a stroller. I put on the backpack with all her baby items and some of our essential possessions, and together we walk to enter the park. CJ is smiling brightly as she takes in all the different sights and sounds of the entrance. The image is just too adorable, I have to make Owen stop under the giant sign to take a picture of the two of them. I send it to both parents as the first update of the day, knowing they won’t treasure the photo as much as I will, because they aren’t in love with Owen in the way that I am.

Owen and I have talked about kids before. Once, on our first date when he asked me if I had any names picked out, which I didn’t. And second, when I informed him we would be entrusted with the care of CJ the following week; it was when we began brainstorming activities to do with her that Owen brought up having our own kids. It took me by surprise that he used the word ‘when’ instead of ‘if’. A small language thing to pick up on, but a huge life thing to process. He talked about making memories with CJ and being the first ones to take her to the zoo, with the consent of her parents. Truth be told, I don’t love kids or the idea of kids in the way that Owen does, so I was a little hesitant to speak my mind. But I didn’t miss the way he held his hand on my stomach as we fell asleep that night. And I didn’t miss the hopeful glint in his eyes when I’d asked his opinion on a few names I liked the next morning.

“What do you wanna do first, CJ?” Owen’s question elicits an excited squeal from her as a response which makes the two of us laugh. I quickly snag a map from the front stand and survey our route options before I feel Owen’s right hand come to rest on my lower back. I glance up to see him peering at the map over my shoulder. My movement prompts him to face me and give me a soft, comforting smile. I feel like spending forever looking into Owen’s breathtaking eyes, but the baby strapped to his chest has other plans. She begins flailing wildly to convey all the excitement coursing through her little body. We laugh once more and Owen presses a quick kiss to her head, which messes up her hat’s placement on her head. I shake my head, stepping in front of my fiance, completely ignoring him. My tunnel vision hyperfocus is set on adjusting the brim of the bucket hat to protect baby Shada from the sun.

“There we go.” When I look back up Owen is staring at me with the softest closed mouth smile I’ve ever seen, “What?”

“Nothing. Where to, Mamacita?”

“Mamacita? Whatever. I say we take this path that way we can start with the elephants and condors, and that’ll take us to the polar bear cove.”

“Lead the way.”

Owen slips his hand in mine, interlacing our fingers and giving me an affirming squeeze. As we’re walking to the elephant exhibit, CJ’s happy mood means she must wave her tiny hand at every person we pass. Other parents with babies her same age, being the majority of the crowd that’s free on a Wednesday morning, smile and wave back to her. Along the front street, the initial entrance crowd begins to dwindle and there are fewer people for her to wave at. Then, a woman who’s probably in her late forties, early fifties sees CJ wave to her. The woman is wearing black pants, a soft maroon top, and a name tag that reads ‘Linda’. Judging by the fact that she gets to wear red instead of the familiar forest green, I can conclude she’s a higher up when it comes to her position here at the zoo.

“You guys are such a beautiful family.”

“Oh, we’re n-”

“Thank you!” Owen speaks over my refutation. The woman then begins to approach us, and I look up at my serious boyfriend in confusion. He whispers, “Let’s pretend. It’ll be fun.” I mean, I’m not much of an actor but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“How old is she?”

“10 months,” he answers seamlessly, using the back of his index finger to lovingly stroke CJ’s round cheek.

“She is just so darling, I’m sure you two must be very proud. They grow so fast, you know? I remember having little ones running around all the time and suddenly they’re off to college. Is she your first child?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one for now.” For now? Wow Owen, when you create a world you really live in it.

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts. They’re only babies for so long.” Linda smiles down and CJ once more before bidding me and Owen goodbye.

“For now?” I ask, incredulously when the woman is out of earshot.

“Yeah,” he shrugs playfully, “CJ’s so well behaved I’m sure we can manage another one.”

“Uh-huh. Are you aware she’s not actually our child?” Owen sighs out a smile and takes my hand as he begins on our trek to the elephant enclosure. When he speaks again, I nearly miss it from how quiet he’s talking,

“S’wishful thinking.”

“What did you just say?” I’m curious to see if he’ll repeat it to my face.

“I said it’s wishful thinking.”

“To have a second child to our nonexistent first child?”

“No,” he nudges my shoulder with his own as we walk, “To have a child period.”

“Nice try. Your baby fever isn’t gonna rub off on me so easily.” He scoffs out a laugh,

“It’s still early. We’ve got the whole day to fix that.” Seamlessly pulling Owen to a stop, I don’t pause our conversation as I step in front of him. My gaze doesn’t meet his eyes as I straighten CJ’s hat once more.

“Well, bear in mind we’re basically on the clock here, and CJ is a tiny person before she’s a persuasion tactic.” I lunge one foot back to make sure the hat is even, and that the baby can still see from under it. When I deem her hat positioning satisfactory, CJ smiles up at me at the same time that paints Owen’s flushed face. He holds his hand straight out in front of his body for me to take, and when I do, he pulls me in to clasp both hands together and rest them on my lower back. Minimal visitors in the zoo is definitely a perk as Owen’s far more physically affectionate without others around. I rest my hands on the portion of his chest that isn’t occupied by CJ’s happy demeanor.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out to be the mothering type. I’m just not… good with kids.”

“I understand your reluctance… but I’m gonna get you on board by the end of the day.”

“Yeah okay, Joyner. Whatever you say.”

Owen smiles down at me with a love as infinite as the number of stars in the universe. CJ squeals between us and I babble back at her in a higher pitch than my usual speaking voice. She squawks again and we go back and forth like this for a little while until she sticks her tongue out at me in between a smile. My jaw drops in a surprised, amused, and simultaneously offended manner, and I take her chubby little baby foot in my hand and squeeze gently, causing her to screech through fits of giggling.

“When did you learn how to do that? Owen, did you-” The words die on my tongue when I see the expression on Owen’s face. He’s wholly enamored and yet so smug at the same time. I feel my face heat up a little bit; I don’t even have to ask what he’s thinking.

“‘I’m just not good with kids’ my ass.”

“There are impressionable ears around. And I do not sound like that.”

“She’s not gonna remember any of this in a week, and yes. You do.” I glare at Owen with an expression of intolerance but my facade is crumbled as I can’t mask the growing smile he elicits by mimicking my expression.

“Let’s go you two.”

After what felt like an eternity we’ve finally made it to the elephant exhibit. The herd of African elephants are spread across the enclosure, some playing in water, some feeding from hay baskets, and a baby closely following it’s mother as she walks across the paddock. When Owen appears beside me

“Do you need a break? We can switch off and you carry the bag.”

“Sure.” I set the baby backpack on the bench behind us and unbuckle the fastenings of the carrier to prop CJ on the side of my hip. As we wait for Owen to take the carrier off his body, I walk her up to the wooden railing that surrounds the elephants’ enclosure. Of course, the sight ahead excites her and she begins bouncing on my side as a means of conveying her feelings. She makes a sound that I interpret as an interrogative before pointing to the animals.

“You see the elephants, CJ?”

“Uh-huh.” She lifts her tiny baby hand into the air and waves the best she can at the elephants, none of which are even looking our way.

“Are we waving? Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave with her and gauge her smile to be even bigger than when she’d stuck her tongue out two minutes ago.

“Hi ephants!” I freeze mid wave in shock. Did she just-?

“Did you just? Owen!”

“Yeah?” he calls from behind us, still getting all our things in order.

“Did Carolynn or Jeremy say what her first words were?”

“Uhhhh, no. They said she hasn’t been speaking words yet, just consonant sounds,” Owen leaves the items unattended seeing as there’s no one else around,  “Why?”

“CJ. Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave at the animals once more, praying that that wasn’t a fluke.

“Hi ephants.” Upon hearing her speak, Owen’s face holds the same expression as mine did just two seconds ago.

“Should we video it and send it to them or pretend it never happened so they can be the ones that hear her first words?”

“Take a video, or take a secret to our graves?” He pretends to weigh the options as if this is the most perilous decision we’ll ever make.

“You’re right, you’re right. Will you grab my phone for me?”

“Where is it?”

“My back pocket that the baby is currently sitting on.” I turn around to let Owen grab the device and unlock it for me.

“Should I just get you guys in the video or the elephants, too?”

“What are you talking about? Get in the video!” I scold him for trying to worm his way out of this memory. “Make yourself useful and revive your long lost vlogging skills.” Owen rolls his eyes but flips to the front facing camera and hits record all the same.

“Say ‘hi mom, hi dad’,” I direct CJ and she merely waves at me, not fully understanding the concept of vlogging at the ripe age of 10 months. “Update number 2: we’re at the elephant enclosure and CJ made some friends. Hey,” I speak quietly to capture her attention. “Can you say ‘hi elephants’?”

“Hi ephants!” She screams and then laughs, throwing her head back to make sure Owen is still present.

“A new word!” I cheer as Owen lowers my phone to stop the recording,

“New skill unlocked.” He hits stop and proceeds to trade me CJ for the phone for a quick second so I can send the video to the not exactly new parents.

“They’re gonna love this.” I click my phone off and tuck it back into my back pocket. Retrieving the baby carrier from the desolate bench, I slip it on to strap myself in before CJ. Once secured, I look up to take her from Owen but blink in surprise that they’re no longer standing in front of me. I turn slightly to my left to see CJ stumbling forward on wobbling legs whilst Owen keeps her standing. He removes his hands from her sides and allows her to grab a hold of both of his index fingers in either hand. Slowly, he walks her closer to where I’m standing one tiny step at a time.

The sight in front of me is so sweet there’s a strange feeling culminating in my chest. A micro trace of baby fever crosses my mind at the thought of Owen teaching our own baby to walk. The smile on his face is unlike anything I’ve seen before and the prospect of having kids suddenly becomes less dreary. I’ve always been afraid of being a bad parent, or messing up someone else’s life, but with Owen, all those fears disappear. Becoming a parent is no longer bleak; the thought of raising kids with someone as loving and enthusiastic as Owen, the world seems all that much brighter.

“Y/n,” he calls to get my attention, unaware I’ve been watching for the past few minutes. When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body, and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple, “I told you so.”

***

A/n: lawd help me I have been putting off so many requests to write self indulgent bs pls don’t hate me.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1 @joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @celestialmolina @lilyjoyner

[bobathirstaccount]

I was trying to write something shorter so of course I bust this out. 90 days until BoBF… 🤤

***

The Audience

Boba x fem!reader, crimelord!Boba, smutty smut

You guys are kinda mean to each other here, but you know you love it…

TW: unprotected sex

I wrote this while listening to Savage by Bahari feat BIA on repeat... check it out it’s such a good song!

Translations (Mando’a)

mesh’la - beautiful

***

“Kneel.”

You complied, both knees coming to rest on the dusty floor of the throne room. You looked up at him, his helmet impassive as it was intimidating. Boba Fett waved a hand dismissively, “Stand,” he overruled his assistant. You stood slowly, unsure and nerves maxed out.

“What is your reason I should give you what you want?”

“Huh?” Your mouth opened stupidly at his question.

“You’re going to ask me for something; why should I give it to you?”

“Well, I, uh..” you stumbled over your rehearsed words.

He sighed, bored. You panicked, “Wait! I uh, I’ll give you want you want for what I want.”

His helmet tilted, but he said nothing. Time seemed to stand still for a moment. Then it restarted and you stuttered, “I- people come here all day wanting things from you. But when do you get what you want?”

You weren’t all that confident in your womanly wiles, but you figured it was better than totally losing his attention. “You seem really bored… wouldn’t you like some entertainment? All I want is a few supplies for my colony… just some med packs and other small things…”

He leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees. “Hnnmm…” He seemed to be appraising you. You felt silly in your old clothes. He sat back. You gulped, preparing to be rejected. Fett raised his hand, “Leave us.” He waved everyone else off. They fell back deferentially. The room was suddenly occupied solely by the two of you. It felt too big.

“What sort of entertainment did you have in mind…” he asked, voice soft. You looked around nervously, feeling vulnerable and in over your head. You turned your gaze to him and decided to be bold. You had come this far. You shuffled up so that you were directly in front of the steps leading up to Fett’s throne. Looking up at his visor, you started to remove your clothing. He watched like a statue. You stopped when you were in your underwear, and stepped up to him. You knelt again, this time touching his knees with your hands as you sat there. He tilted his helmet down. You continued to look back, and ran your hands slowly up his powerful thighs. He grunted but did nothing else.

Slowly, you palmed him, slightly surprised to find him already hard under his pants. You nudged in between his legs and started to undo his clothing. Carefully, you pulled his cock out. Your eyes widened as you wondered what you had gotten yourself into. But you took him in your mouth readily and started to work him. His hand went lightly to your head as it bobbed up and down. “Such an eager little slut, aren’t you?” His gravelly voice was low with lust. You deep throated him, causing his hand to clench. “Think you are going to impress me with that?” He gripped the back of your head and started to thrust into your throat. You gagged but refused to back down. He released you and you came up for air. You ran your hands back down to his knees, then stood up. You started to remove your bra. He reached out with a gloved hand — you slapped it away lightly. “You think you deserve this?”

He grunted and looked up at you, apparently waiting. You slid your bra down your tits, revealing your nipples slowly. You discarded your bra over your shoulder then. You climbed into his lap and pressed your tits against his helmet. “You think just because you sit in this big chair you just get whatever you want?”

He rumbled low in his throat and his hands went to your ass. You felt him massaging you, exploring. You leaned back in his embrace and slid up into his lap, where his erection was waiting. You ground down onto him, your breasts on full display. He groaned and his hands went to your chest. One remained on a tit while the other slid up to your throat. He grabbed you and applied moderate pressure. You slid up and down his cock; your damp panties dragged along his skin. He moaned and squeezed your throat slightly more as he slid his other hand to your pussy. He simply tore off your underwear with one hand, tossing it away. He ground up into your wet heat, mumbling and groaning. You pulled up and again smooshed your tits into his helmet. He made an annoyed noise and gripped your hips with both hands.

“I know you want this pussy,” you cooed to him. “You need it.” He grunted again, and looked up at you. Curious, you suddenly grabbed his helmet. You paused, barely breathing. Had you gone too far? He didn’t stop you. You pulled up.

You met his gaze, which was hard, softened only slightly by desire. Licking your lips, you sank back into his lap, grinding into his hardness. “No more time for games, girlie,” Fett’s voice was rough. He stood and flipped you around so that you were on all fours on his throne. You stared at the back rest. His cock appeared at your entrance, and circled it slowly. You moaned softly and pushed back onto him. Needing no more encouragement, he slid into you easily. “So wet for me, mm? Did you come here wanting to get fucked? Do you like to take a crime lord’s cock?” He emphasized the last portion of his question with a hard thrust.

You looked over your shoulder as you spread your legs wider. “I came here to make a deal… so do I get my supplies?” He grunted, “Do you think you deserve it?” You huffed at his reuse of your question. He fucked you deep, hitting your g spot. You moaned, forgetting what you were talking about. You threw your head back, enjoying his cock. He picked up the pace, “If we’re making a deal then I want to keep… negotiating.” He stopped fucking you to bend over and nuzzle into the crook of your neck. He said into your ear, “What else do you want? There’s… more of you that I want.”

Feeling like you had the upper hand, your lips curled into a small smile. “If you’re a good boy, you can have more.” You pulled forward and turned around, splaying yourself out in his throne. He rumbled low in his throat as he looked at you. “Like what you see?”

“No one has ever sat in my throne before.”

You grinned, “This pussy got you whipped?”

He smiled for a moment before turning darker, “Get on your knees.” You complied, licking your lips. He took your jaw in his large hand, “Give me a reason to not punish you.”

“I already know you wanna have this,” you crooned, giving him big eyes. “So you know you’re gonna do what I want.” He smiled down at you, swiping a thumb across your lower lip. “You’re very cheeky.”

Brazenly, you pushed his hand away from your face. You licked the tip of his cock, “Maybe I just know what you need.” He huffed lightly and grabbed you by the jaw again. This time he shoved his cock in your mouth, “I have a better use for that mouth right now…” He began to thrust into your mouth, gripping the back of your head. You put your hands on his thighs, looking up at him sinfully.

“You like this hmm, pretty thing?” You felt yourself flush at the pet name. You moved your hands around his hips so that you were grabbing his ass, and relaxed your throat muscles so he could slide into you. Suddenly he dropped his hand and pulled out. Before you could react, he had grabbed you and flipped you over yourself so you were again on all fours staring at the back of his throne. You heard rustling and prepared yourself for his cock. Instead you felt his soft tongue tracing your folds. Caught off guard, you moaned throatily, gasping his surname. Two fingers ghosted around your entrance, making you weak in the knees. When they finally pushed inside, you were wild for him, “Fuck Fett, you know how to fuck.”

He made an amused noise before burrowing back into your wet heat, fingers still moving inside of you. “What a good girl you are, mesh’la…” He pulled away, tracing his fingers up your spine. When he got to your neck, he grabbed your harshly and penetrated you. You moaned through your teeth as he fucked you roughly. “You like it rough, mesh’la? I can give that to you.” He snapped his hips into you as you pushed back onto him hungrily.

“I like getting what I want,” you panted. He laughed, “You’ll get your supplies… but now tell me what else you want…”

You looked over your shoulder. “I wanna cum on this cock.”

He groaned his arousal before saying, “You think you earned it yet?” You gave him big, innocent eyes as you moaned to him, “How else am I supposed to handle such a big cock?” He grunted and paused deep inside of you, his chest heaving and his fingers digging into your neck. “Little slut, you’re gonna make me cum in your pussy. Would you like that?” You felt his cock twitch and smiled a slow smile. “You wanna cum in this tight pussy? What do you think that would cost you?” He groaned and started to fuck you again, grabbing the back of the throne. “I can afford it.”

You could tell he was close; his fucking was sloppy and needy. You decided to tease him. “Can you? You ever want something you can’t buy?”

He snorted, “Like what?” His hands tightened on the back of the throne.

“Maybe cumming in my pussy’s too expensive for you,” you cooed. His fucking hitched momentarily and his grip on your neck increased. “It’s all I want right now,” he panted.

“Maybe cumming in my pussy means you’re gonna supply my colony with all the meds we need… in perpetuity.”

He laughed, “You think your pussy is worth it?” You clenched around him, making him grunt and pause. “Say it,” you trilled, watching his face. He was straining to not cum. “I, ah,” Fett muttered. You slid up and down his cock slowly, “You wanna feel this hot, wet cunt around you as you cum?”

His hips stuttered. He made a strained noise before saying, “Your pussy is so good, I want to make you scream.” He pulled out abruptly and pulled you up into his arms. You felt like a rag doll he was so powerful. He sat in his throne with you straddling him. “If you fuck me so good I cum then you can have your med packs…” He looked up at you darkly. You smiled self assuredly before positioning yourself over his cock.

You let the folds of your pussy just touch his cock and waited. He tried to thrust up and you lifted yourself, hands on his shoulder. “No no, be a good boy,” you whispered to him. He stilled. You slid painstakingly slowly down onto his cock, drawing a long moan from Fett. Slowly, you started to grind on him, licking and kissing his throat. His hands went to your hips, where he squeezed you desperately.

“Impatient? Don’t worry, you’ll be cumming soon enough…” You continued to slowly grind, feeling his cock inside of you. Finally you started to fuck up and down on him, your tits bouncing as you did. You made a show of it, which he watched hungrily. Fett’s hands dropped to your knees as a groan escaped his lips. You looked at them, licking your own. You leaned forward and kissed him experimentally on the mouth. His hands went to your face, cupping it as he kissed you back. Surprised but pleased, you deepened the kiss, sliding your tongue past his teeth. The two of you kissed and fucked for a few moments, totally absorbed in the moment and each other.

Remembering why you were there, you broke the kiss and pulled away. “Where’re you going?” A blissed out Fett asked, his hands still cupping your face. You smiled despite yourself and leaned back in, kissing him lightly. Your hands went to his cuirass, the metal a cold reminder of reality. You swirled your hips as you fucked, making him moan against your mouth. You continued, feeling the needy urge to orgasm building in your pussy.

“Your cock is gonna make me cum, baby,” you murmured, pulling away to make eye contact. He returned your gaze with hooded, lusty eyes, “I wanna feel it.” You focused on chasing your high, feeling his cock drag along the walls of your pussy. He pulled you back in for another kiss. It lasted as you continued to fuck down on him, the sound of your fucking filling the room. But you didn’t care; you were beyond caring. All you could think of was your impending orgasm. The heat in your pussy burned over and engulfed your senses. It overwhelmed you, making your body slouch forward as you came, cunt spasming around Fett. He groaned his own release, gripping your body tightly and pulling you to himself. He held you in place and you felt his cock twitching inside of you.

Your skin tingled as you recovered from your tunnel vision inducing orgasm. You mumbled sweet nothings into his shoulder as he ran a hand over your head. Abruptly you sat up, remembering where you were. You were met with gentle eyes. “You really think so?” He rumbled softly, in response to your bedroom talk. You felt yourself flush.

“I mean, I…” You shifted your weight in his lap. “Yeah,” you sighed, embarrassed. A small smile ghosted on Fett’s lips. You pulled away, and feeling self conscious, looked around for your clothing. He released you, hands gently resting on your body as he watched you. You swallowed nervously in his lap. “So our business is concluded?” You blurted out. Fett ran a thumb over your bottom lip, “Yes,” he dropped his hand. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to be sexy, “Did I meet all the terms of our agreement?”

He huffed very softly, “Indeed. The supplies are yours.” He squeezed you, “What else can we negotiate for?”