#she needs a 10k year nap

[missmaymay13]

whiskers - l.hughes x fem!oc

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l.hughes x fem!oc | 10k

summary: whiskers was a quiet oasis for those who needed it. a place where everything else in the world just disappeared for a moment and you were able to just. breathe. what happens when a certain new jersey devil stumbles upon this place and can't leave?

masterlist

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The scent of freshly brewed espresso clung to Mallory White’s sweaters like a signature. No matter how many times she washed them, the faint aroma of dark roast and steamed milk lingered in the fibers, a soft, constant reminder of where she spent most of her waking hours. Whiskers—her aunt’s pride and joy—was tucked into a quiet street corner just off Ferry Street in Newark. It was the kind of place you only found if you were looking for it, or if you needed it in a way you couldn’t explain. A cutesy, whimsical blend of mismatched armchairs, crowded bookshelves, twinkle lights strung haphazardly across the ceiling, and window seats that always seemed to catch the best kind of sunlight. Cats draped themselves lazily over the tops of couches, curled in the corners of shelves, or pawed at the steam curling up from customer mugs. Every one of them was adoptable. Some stayed a day, some stayed months, but all of them came to know Mallory’s gentle voice and steady hands.

She’d been working there part-time for years, ever since her aunt offered her the job to help cover books and groceries while she finished school. Full-time student, part-time barista, amateur therapist to half the neighborhood regulars—Mallory made it work. She always had. Psychology fascinated her, not just the clinical definitions or brain chemistry, but the little things. The way people picked at napkins when they were nervous, how eyes darted when a lie teetered on someone’s tongue, the unconscious rituals of grief, of joy, of healing. People told her everything. She had a face for it—open, calm, curious without being invasive. The customers who wandered in during slow mornings often left with more than caffeine. Confessions, vent sessions, old wounds cracked open over chai lattes. Mallory listened the way the cats did—quietly, patiently, without judgment.

Her life was quiet, a patchwork of routines and late-night study sessions, paper deadlines, and morning coffee grinds. She lived in a tiny walk-up two blocks from Whiskers, a third-floor studio with crooked hardwood floors and plants crowding every windowsill. Her rescue tabby, Clementine, ruled the place like a queen, sprawled across textbooks or wedged herself into the sink just to make a point. Mallory found comfort in the familiar—her regulars, the way the sunlight always hit the front window just right around 4 PM, the hum of soft jazz that played through the speakers when the place began to wind down for the night. She had her favorite mugs, her favorite playlists, her favorite pens for annotating psychology textbooks. Everything in her world had a place, a rhythm. Even the chaos felt choreographed.

Newark had never seemed small to Mallory, even though she’d never left it for long. She’d traveled a bit—trips to Boston for conferences, the occasional weekend in Philly with friends—but New Jersey was in her bones. It was in the cadence of her voice, the way she knew what joint served the best pizza at 2 AM, the way she rolled her eyes when people asked why she hadn’t moved to the city yet. Newark was home. It was messy and overlooked and constantly changing, but so was she. Her childhood was rooted in its cracked sidewalks, her adolescence mapped across its diners and bookstores, her adulthood unfolding in the scent of espresso and the soft, low purr of content cats.

Whiskers was more than just a job. It was her second skin. She knew every creaky floorboard and which chair the orange tabby preferred for his midday naps. Her aunt, Nora, had turned the place into a refuge, and Mallory—without even realizing it—had become part of the soul of it. She knew when a regular was having a bad day by the way they stirred their coffee, knew how to distract a lonely heart with a stack of books and a napping kitten. On weekends, families came in just to sit and laugh and maybe fall in love with a pair of green eyes and a twitching tail. Mallory floated through it all with practiced ease, pouring lattes and restocking biscotti, recommending paperbacks and refilling water bowls.

Lately though, there’d been a tug in her chest. A sense that something—or someone—was coming. Something she couldn’t name. Maybe it was graduation looming closer, the unknown pressing in now that her final semester had started. Maybe it was the weight of a future she hadn't quite mapped out yet, pressing against the edges of her carefully ordered life. Or maybe it was the way Clementine had taken to sitting in the window every night, watching the sidewalk below like she was waiting for something. Her tail would flick, her eyes fixed, as if she knew something Mallory didn’t. It made her uneasy, but also… hopeful.

Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe it was everything.

Whatever it was, it was on its way.

__

Jack Hughes was not having a good season. On paper, the numbers weren’t bad—solid stats, some strong games, the kind of season that didn’t raise alarms. But under the surface, it was a different story. The pressure was relentless, an invisible weight pressing down on him every time he stepped onto the ice. Every game felt like a test he couldn’t afford to fail. Produce. Lead. Win. Repeat. There was no room for off nights, no space for mistakes. The joy—the spark that used to fuel him—was flickering dangerously low.

So that night, with the sky heavy and gray over Newark, Jack laced up his sneakers and left his apartment without a destination in mind. He needed to breathe. No fans. No expectations. Just air. The city buzzed around him—cars, voices, the clatter of life continuing at its own pace. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and walked, letting his mind wander, his steps aimless but searching.

That’s when he saw it.

Tucked away between a boarded-up corner store and a laundromat with flickering lights, there was a shopfront Jack swore hadn’t been there before. The windows glowed with soft amber light, and the sign above the door read simply: Whiskers. It was quaint, inviting, oddly out of place in the gritty stretch of street. A place that felt… safe. Like the Room of Requirement from Harry Potter if it catered to coffee snobs and cat lovers instead of stressed-out wizards.

He pushed open the door, and immediately, the scent of espresso and vanilla filled his lungs. Warmth wrapped around him like a blanket fresh from the dryer. The bell above the door chimed softly, and before he could fully take in the space, a cat—an elegant gray tabby with white paws and an air of dignified authority—padded over to greet him. She sat in front of him, blinking slowly, tail flicking once.

“Oh. Uh. Hi,” Jack muttered, crouching slightly as if unsure how to proceed. The cat continued to stare, unimpressed but accepting. Missy, as he’d later learn, had that effect on people.

Jack stood up and glanced around, wide-eyed. The place looked like a Pinterest board come to life—string lights, overstuffed chairs, cat beds tucked in every corner, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that made the air feel thick with stories. It was the last thing he expected to find on a quiet walk meant to clear his head. And yet, it felt like exactly where he was supposed to be.

He thought he was alone until he spotted her.

In the back corner of the café, nestled into the cushions of a sun-drenched window seat, sat a girl with strawberry-blonde hair pulled into a loose, practical knot. A half-dozen cats lounged around her like they’d claimed her as one of their own. One lay across her lap, another perched on the back of her chair, while two more batted lazily at the dangling strings of her hoodie. Her eyes were glued to the screen of her laptop, fingers tapping away in focused concentration.

Mallory White glanced up at the sound of the doorbell, expecting a regular, or maybe someone looking for directions. What she saw instead was a tall brunette standing near the entrance like he wasn’t sure if he’d stumbled into a dream or a fever-induced hallucination. His eyes were wide, darting around the shop, lips slightly parted in bewilderment. He looked both exhausted and in awe.

“First time?” she called out, voice light but kind. She already knew the answer.

Jack turned toward her, nodding slowly. “Yeah…”

She smiled, something soft blooming in her chest. There was always something beautiful about watching people find Whiskers for the first time—especially the ones who clearly needed it. They came in burdened, distracted, lost. And they stayed, because something about the place told them they were allowed to rest. To breathe.

And for Jack Hughes, that was exactly what was happening.

__

Jack approached the counter slowly, his gaze sweeping over the handwritten chalkboard menu, though his eyes weren’t really reading. The place still didn’t feel real. Like he’d slipped into some alternate version of Newark, one where life moved slower and smelled like cinnamon.

Mallory stood behind the counter now, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a cat—Oscar—draped around her shoulders like a fuzzy scarf. She gave Jack a smile that didn’t force anything out of him, just offered something steady. Comfort without pressure.

“What can I get you?” she asked, pulling a mug down from the shelf.

He blinked, momentarily thrown. “Uh. Just… coffee? I think?”

Mallory bit back a grin. “Bold order.”

Jack laughed softly—an unintentional sound, like it startled him. “Right. Sorry. I’m more of a… dog guy.”

Oscar meowed in protest from her shoulders. Mallory feigned offense. “You can’t just walk into a cat café and say something like that.”

“I know, I know,” he said, hands raised in surrender. “I’m already on thin ice, aren’t I?”

“Extremely,” she teased, but her tone was still light, welcoming. “Lucky for you, the cats are forgiving. Mostly. Missy already gave you a pass, so you’re basically in.”

Jack watched her pour the coffee with a kind of reverence, like the ritual of it was grounding him. Something simple. Something normal.

Mallory set the mug in front of him, her voice dipping into something softer. “You look like you needed to find this place.”

He looked up, startled—not because she was wrong, but because she’d said it out loud.

He didn’t answer right away. He just nodded, lips pressing into a tight line before he picked up the cup and took a slow sip.

Mallory didn’t press. She just moved around him with quiet ease, giving him space while staying close enough to offer more if he wanted it. Eventually, he found a seat by the window. The same one she’d been curled into earlier, now cleared of cats. Like they knew he needed it.

The hours slipped by.

They started talking slowly, in fits and starts—about nothing at first. The coffee. The cats. The weather. But Mallory had a way of asking questions that made Jack want to answer. And she listened—not like she was waiting for her turn to speak, but like she actually cared about the in-between moments. The pauses. The sighs.

Without realizing how or when, Jack started to talk. Really talk.

About the season. About the pressure. The weight of being expected to be everything, every night. About how he couldn’t even remember the last time he played just for fun. How even on good days, he felt like he was chasing something he couldn’t name. He didn’t mention who he was. He didn’t have to. Mallory never asked.

She just sat across from him, legs curled under her, sipping tea and nodding quietly. When he stopped, she’d offer a thought, something gentle and reflective that didn’t feel like advice but helped anyway.

It was effortless. Unscripted. Safe.

And somehow, in the middle of that cozy café with jazz humming low and cats circling their feet, Jack Hughes—hockey star, exhausted athlete, public figure—let himself breathe.

When he finally looked at the time, hours had passed. The sky outside had gone from moody gray to a soft indigo. The shop was even quieter now, a few lingering customers curling up in corners with books and content kittens. Mallory stood behind the counter again, cleaning up with a rhythm born from years of closing shifts and late-night routines.

Jack stood, stretching like he was waking from a dream.

“Thanks,” he said, voice low but real. “For… I don’t know. This.”

Mallory looked over, smiling like she knew exactly what he meant. “Come back whenever. Whiskers shows up when people need it—but once you find it, it’s easier to return.”

Jack nodded, lingering in the doorway for a second. Then he stepped out into the cool night air.

And for the first time in a long time, he smiled.

Not for a fan. Not for a camera. Not because he had to.

But because he wanted to.

__ Jack didn’t plan on going back to Whiskers.

Not really. It had felt like a one-time thing—some serendipitous stop on a bad day. But the next time the pressure swelled again, sitting on his chest like armor he couldn’t get off, his feet led him there without thinking. And when he opened the door, the same warm scent of coffee and cat fur greeted him like an old friend.

No one batted an eye when he came in. Missy trotted over to him again, dignified as ever, and gave his shoes a once-over before returning to her perch by the window. Mallory was already there, at her usual table in the corner, laptop open, hair pulled back, surrounded by open textbooks and cats who insisted on lying across her notes. She looked up when the bell chimed and gave him a soft, familiar smile. Like she’d been expecting him.

From then on, he became a regular.

He didn’t always talk. Some days, he didn’t even get coffee. He just… existed. Found the seat by the window and sat with whatever book he was working through, or nothing at all. Sometimes he stared out the glass, watched the city move in its chaotic rhythm while inside, everything was quiet. Safe. Still.

There were days he came after a loss, his body heavy and tired. Days he came before a game, needing to ground himself. And days where he just needed a reminder that there was more to the world than headlines and ice time. That there were places where no one needed anything from him.

Mallory didn’t pry. That was what he liked most. She always greeted him with that same smile, then returned to her work. Her energy was calm, a quiet presence that didn’t demand attention. He learned she was finishing up a psych degree, that she helped run the café with her aunt, that she was the kind of person who read three books at once and always had pens tucked behind both ears. He also learned she had a cat named Clementine who hated car rides and a soft spot for vanilla scones.

Their conversations were scattered and slow. Shared glances over their mugs. A dry joke exchanged when a customer knocked over a display. Quiet chuckles when a kitten decided Jack’s lap was the best nap spot. But mostly, they sat in silence.

The kind of silence that doesn’t need to be filled.

Jazz played low in the background. Mallory’s keys clicked against her laptop. The espresso machine hissed softly from the bar. A cat would leap from one chair to another. And Jack, for the first time in months, felt okay not saying a word. Just breathing. Just being.

That bond—unspoken but steady—grew in the spaces between the stillness. In the shared routines. She would slide him a drink without asking. He’d bring her a croissant from a bakery he found downtown. Neither of them acknowledged the softness curling between them. It just existed. Natural. Unrushed.

Whiskers became his sanctuary. A place untouched by expectation or fame. A place where he wasn’t Jack Hughes, hockey star.

Just Jack.

And in that little corner café with cats lounging in the sun and Mallory humming under her breath as she typed, Jack found something he hadn’t realized he’d been searching for:

Peace.

__

It didn’t take long for Luke to notice the shift.

At first, it was small things. Jack stopped snapping at reporters after games. He didn’t spend as much time glued to his phone, doom-scrolling between practices. He started showing up early to workouts. Smiling more. Laughing, even. And not the hollow, media-trained kind of laugh either—the real kind, the kind that lit up his face and softened the edges of his exhaustion.

And then came the disappearing.

Luke would be halfway through a lazy off-day, sprawled across the couch, and Jack would toss on a hoodie, grab his keys, and say, “I’m heading out for a bit.”

“To where?”

“Nowhere. Just… around.”

Luke arched an eyebrow. “That’s not a place, Jack.”

“I’m just going for a walk. Or maybe a drive.”

He never offered more than that. No details. No specifics. Just vague, noncommittal answers. And then he’d come back three hours later like someone had hit reset on his entire nervous system—relaxed, clear-eyed, a little too peaceful for someone playing in a pressure cooker like the NHL.

It was starting to freak Luke out.

One afternoon, after a tough practice and an even tougher media scrum, Jack came home humming. Humming. He dropped his bag, cracked open a bottle of water, and leaned in the doorway with the kind of serenity usually reserved for people on vacation or heavily medicated.

That was the final straw.

Luke narrowed his eyes. “Are you doing drugs?”

Jack choked on his water, coughing so hard he had to lean forward, hand braced on the wall. “What? Are you crazy? No! Jesus.”

“I don’t know, man!” Luke threw up his hands. “You disappear for hours with no explanation and come back looking like you just won a million dollars. Or just got laid. Or both.”

Jack just laughed, which only made Luke more suspicious.

“So where do you go?” he pressed.

“Nowhere.”

“Stop saying that. You can’t just ‘nowhere’ your way into this weird Zen state. I know you. You're like a caged animal half the time and now you're… this.”

Jack shrugged, trying to hide the way his lips twitched like they wanted to smile. “It’s not a big deal.”

“If it wasn’t a big deal, you’d tell me.”

That part wasn’t wrong. Jack could tell Luke. He probably should. But there was something about Whiskers he wasn’t ready to share yet. Something about that cozy little corner of the world that felt untouched by everything else in his life. He wasn’t ready to let anyone else in. Not even Luke.

So he gave another half-assed answer.

“Just a spot I found. Good coffee. That’s all.”

Luke squinted at him like he was trying to see through the lie. “You don’t even drink that much coffee.”

“Maybe I do now.”

Luke groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch. “You’re so annoying. Just admit you’re seeing someone.”

Jack didn’t respond.

He didn’t have to respond. His silence said enough.

Luke sat up slowly. “Wait. Are you?”

Jack finally met his gaze and smirked. “Didn’t say that.”

“You are! Oh my god, you’re totally sneaking off to see someone. That’s why you’ve been all floaty and weird.”

“There’s nothing weird about it.”

“Nothing weird about being in love with a barista and hiding her from your own brother?”

“I’m not—" Jack paused. "—in love.”

Luke raised both brows.

Jack shoved him with a pillow.

“Shut up.”

Luke grinned, already pulling out his phone. “I’m gonna figure this out.”

“No, you’re not,” Jack said, and for once, his tone was firm. “Not yet.”

There was a pause.

And then Luke looked at him, just a little softer. “Okay. I’ll drop it. For now.”

Because even he could see it—whatever Jack had found, it was helping. It was healing something.

And maybe, for now, that was enough.

_

The truth?

Jack had fallen in love.

He hadn’t said the words out loud. Not even to himself. But it was there—in the way his feet carried him to Whiskers without hesitation, in the way he looked at her like she held all the quiet parts of the world in her palms. In the way just being near her was enough to make his chest loosen and his breathing slow. He wasn’t ready to explain it to anyone, not even Luke. Especially not Luke.

So he kept it to himself. Kept her to himself.

Until that night.

It was late. The apartment looked like the aftermath of a storm. Hockey sticks leaned haphazardly against the wall, gear dumped across the floor in a way that suggested frustration more than forgetfulness. A half-empty protein shake sweated on the coffee table beside a crumpled game schedule. Luke slammed the front door so hard that a picture frame rattled on the wall. He didn’t say anything right away, just paced—his strides tight, erratic, jaw clenched hard enough to crack.

The Devils were out of playoff contention. And it had gutted him.

Jack watched from the hallway, arms folded, leaning against the doorframe like he wasn’t sure if now was the time to step in or stay out. Luke didn’t get mad like this—not usually. He was intense, sure. Emotional, absolutely. But this kind of fury? It felt heavy. Personal.

Jack didn't ask. He just said, “Get in the car.”

Luke frowned, thrown. “What?”

“I’m not asking. Just come with me.”

Something in Jack’s voice silenced him. A low, steady kind of calm that didn’t leave room for argument. So Luke grabbed a hoodie, still in his joggers and sneakers, and followed his brother out the door.

The drive was quiet. Newark passed them in streaks of streetlight and shadow, the car a cocoon of tension and unspoken words. Jack didn’t say where they were going. Luke didn’t ask. The only sound was the occasional click of the turn signal and the low hum of the tires against pavement.

When they pulled up to the quiet corner of the city, the streets were quieter. Whiskers sat tucked beneath a canopy of trees, its windows glowing golden against the dark like a secret waiting to be shared. The string lights on the awning flickered gently, casting soft halos across the brick sidewalk.

Luke squinted. “A café?”

Jack was already out of the car.

The second the bell above the door chimed, Luke was hit with a wall of warmth—coffee, cinnamon, faint vanilla. The soft lilt of jazz floated through the space. Cats lounged on cushions and curled in baskets tucked between bookshelves and furniture. Mismatched chairs, faded rugs, low lighting. The place looked like it had been pulled straight from a dream.

Behind the counter stood a girl. She had soft strawberry-blonde curls tied back loosely and wore a slouchy sweater that had definitely seen a few too many cat naps. A content gray tabby nestled in her arms like royalty.

Luke slowed his steps, eyes flicking from her to Jack. Was this her? The girl Jack had been seeing? She was gorgeous, effortlessly so, and clearly comfortable in this magical, cat-infested café. Luke felt a small, unexpected flicker of disappointment. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because it felt too… obvious. Too perfect.

Then Jack walked right past her.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jack said with a grin, reaching for the cat in her arms—the regal, unbothered Missy.

Mallory handed the cat over with a knowing smile.

Jack cradled Missy like she was made of glass, his entire demeanor shifting into something almost unrecognizable—softer, lighter, like someone had peeled all the pressure off his shoulders. He crossed the room, sank into his usual corner chair, and opened a book, Missy curling into his lap like she’d been waiting.

Luke stared.

That was the girl?

Jack didn’t even glance up. Just scratched behind Missy’s ears and exhaled like this was exactly where he was meant to be.

Then a voice called out, warm and curious.

“Hi J! Who’s this?”

Luke turned—and that’s when everything tilted.

Mallory was standing a few feet away now, closer. And suddenly, Luke saw her clearly. Her eyes, a shade of green that didn’t quite make sense. Her voice, melodic and kind. Her smile—soft, genuine, like she’d known you forever.

She extended a hand. “I’m Mallory. You must be the brother.”

“Yeah. Uh. Luke.”

She smiled and motioned for him to follow her to a small table near the window. He did.

And something shifted.

Mallory had a way of talking that didn’t feel like talking. It felt like being. Like she saw people the way they didn’t even see themselves. She asked about the game without pity, about his season without poking at wounds. Her voice was smooth, steady, laced with humor and grace. When she laughed, it was this low, genuine sound that settled something deep in his gut.

He didn’t even notice the time passing. Didn’t realize he was leaning in, actually smiling, until he caught his own reflection in the window and barely recognized himself.

Somewhere in the background, Jack flipped a page and shifted Missy on his lap.

He hadn’t said a word since they walked in.

Because he didn’t need to.

Whiskers did what it always did.

And Mallory—Mallory did the rest.

Luke leaned back, eyes still on her, and exhaled the weight of the entire season.

He got it now.

He really got it.

__

Luke started going back to Whiskers.

At first, it was innocent enough. Just a second visit. Then a third. Then one day he realized he was typing the address into his GPS without thinking. The café had imprinted itself on him—the warmth, the quiet, the smell of cinnamon and fresh espresso. But more than anything, it was her.

Mallory.

She was always there when he arrived, tucked into her favorite spot with a mug in one hand and her laptop open in front of her. Sometimes she was surrounded by cats, sometimes it was just her and the quiet music humming through the café. She always looked up when he came in. Always smiled. And Luke… yeah, he felt that.

Where Jack disappeared into Whiskers like it was a sanctuary, a place to go silent and still, Luke leaned into the space differently. He didn’t want to disappear—he wanted to see. To learn. To ask questions. And more than anything, he wanted to understand the girl who made a place like this feel like a refuge.

“Back again?” Mallory asked one morning, raising a brow as Luke approached the counter.

He grinned. “Addicted. To the coffee. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” She handed him a mug without asking what he wanted. She already knew.

He sat at the bar that day, watching her move through her rhythm—refilling the pastry case, whispering something to one of the cats, rearranging a stack of well-loved paperbacks. Everything she did had intention, but never felt rushed. She moved like someone who had nowhere else to be, even though Luke knew she probably had a dozen deadlines waiting.

“What are you studying?” he asked after a while, casually sipping his coffee.

She looked over, a little surprised. “Psychology.”

“Like… therapy?”

She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Something like that. I want to work with athletes, actually. Mental performance, pressure management, that kind of thing.”

Luke blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t expect that.”

“Didn’t peg me as someone who understands sports?” she teased.

“No, I didn’t peg you as someone who understands me,” he said, quieter than he meant to.

She looked at him for a long moment. And then she smiled. “Maybe I do.”

That was how it began.

He started showing up more often. Sometimes in the mornings, grabbing a corner table while she worked behind the bar. Sometimes in the late afternoons, when the light poured through the front window and caught the gold in her hair. They started talking more. Long conversations that drifted from childhood memories to late-night game rituals to their favorite kinds of cereal.

She asked questions. Real ones. And Luke found himself answering, actually wanting to answer. He told her about growing up in a hockey family, about Michigan, about the pressure of always being someone’s little brother. She listened like she hadn’t heard those things a thousand times before. Like they meant something.

And sometimes, she talked too.

She told him about Whiskers—how her aunt had started it as a little dream project, and how she’d helped build it into what it was. She talked about losing her parents young, about how her aunt had raised her, about how cats were easier to understand than people sometimes. She laughed when he confessed he was still a dog person, and even more when Missy curled up in his lap for the first time anyway.

Luke didn’t realize how often he was showing up until Jack called him out one night.

“You’re there more than I am,” he said, lounging on the couch with his book, Missy sprawled across his chest like a queen.

“Maybe I just like cats,” Luke offered.

Jack didn’t even look up. “Maybe you like Mallory.”

Luke didn’t respond.

He didn’t have to.

__

It took Luke a few weeks—okay, maybe closer to a month—to finally ask Mallory out. Not because he didn’t want to. God, he wanted to. But there was something about her that made him nervous in a way he wasn’t used to. She was grounded, graceful in her own soft chaos, and totally unaffected by who he was. She didn’t care about NHL stats or jersey numbers. She cared about whether he slept well, whether the cats had taken to him yet, whether he’d been kind to himself that week.

She saw through him, and he liked it.

So one quiet Thursday morning, when Whiskers was still waking up and the smell of cinnamon rolls hadn’t yet left the oven, Luke leaned on the counter and said, almost casually, “Hey, do you wanna grab dinner sometime? Like, just us?”

Mallory’s eyes lifted from her tablet, a smile already forming. “Like a date?”

He nodded. “Yeah. A date.”

She didn’t hesitate. “I’d love that.”

He didn’t dare take her to a coffee shop. No way. That felt too close to home, too close to Jack’s territory. Besides, it would be weird to take a barista to drink coffee, right?

So he went for the most classic, chaotic New Jersey move he could think of.

Pizza.

He picked her up that Saturday night wearing a hoodie and a nervous grin, and drove her twenty minutes outside the city to a tiny brick oven place tucked between a car wash and a liquor store. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was his spot. The one he’d found during his first year with the Devils. The kind of place where the booths were squeaky and the paper plates were flimsy, but the sauce was perfect and the crust had that exact amount of char only Jersey could do right.

Mallory eyed the storefront with an arched brow. “You’re taking a Jersey native to your favorite pizza joint? That’s bold.”

“I know,” he grinned, opening the door for her. “You’re either gonna be really impressed or never speak to me again.”

To his immense relief, she was impressed.

They shared a pie—half pepperoni, half plain—over a checkered tablecloth and canned soda. And it was easy. So easy. The conversation flowed like it always did with her—effortless, rich with little revelations and teasing jokes. She told him about how she once tried to make her own dough and ended up with a flour explosion in her apartment. He told her about the time Jack got into a screaming match with their mom over pineapple on pizza.

She laughed so hard she had to wipe tears from the corner of her eyes.

But it wasn’t just the laughter. It was her. Luke couldn’t stop watching her. The way her eyes lit up when she told stories. The way she listened—really listened—when he spoke. The way she saw the world with this quiet sympathy that made everything feel less sharp. Less scary. It was… admirable. Magnetic. And it was messing him up, in the best way.

He drove her home, walked her to her door, and lingered there with both hands shoved in his pockets, heart thudding like it was trying to leap from his chest.

“I had a really good time,” she said, voice soft.

“Me too.”

And when she leaned up and kissed him—quick, but sure—Luke felt like the entire world tilted into place.

Later that night, after Jack had already passed out on the couch with Missy on his chest and a documentary droning in the background, Luke stepped out onto the tiny balcony with his phone and scrolled through his contacts.

He called Quinn.

“Hey, you good?” Quinn asked after the first ring. “You never call unless something’s wrong.”

“No, it’s not— It’s not bad. I just… needed to talk to you.”

There was a pause on the other end, then the familiar sound of Quinn settling into a chair. “Shoot.”

Luke rubbed a hand down his face. “I think I’m in love. Like… really in love.”

Quinn didn’t laugh. Not at first. Just let that sentence sit for a moment before replying.

“With the girl from the cat café?” he said knowingly.

Luke blinked. “How do you—?”

“Jack talks in his sleep,” Quinn deadpanned. “Apparently a lot about Missy. And someone named Mallory.”

Luke laughed, the tension breaking like a dam.

Quinn chuckled too, but his voice stayed gentle. “So you and Jack are both in love, huh? One with the barista. One with the cat.”

“Don’t say that,” Luke groaned. “It’s not like that.”

Quinn was quiet for a beat. “You really like her?”

“Yeah,” Luke admitted, his voice quieter now. “I like the way she sees people. Like they’re all worth knowing. Like nothing is ever too broken. I don’t know how to explain it… She makes everything quieter.”

There was a smile in Quinn’s voice when he replied, “Sounds like she’s your Whiskers.”

Luke let that sink in. Yeah. Yeah, maybe she was.

“And what do I do?” he asked, suddenly young and unsure.

Quinn didn’t hesitate. “You hold on to it. You show up for her, the way she shows up for everyone else. And you tell her. Not with flowers or grand gestures. Just… honestly. You tell her when you’re ready.”

Luke looked up at the sky, the stars faint through the city haze. “Thanks, Q.”

“Anytime, little bro.”

Luke hung up, slid his phone into his pocket, and stood there in the quiet.

In love. In awe. In it—completely.

And somehow, not scared at all.

__

For all the time Jack and Luke spent at Whiskers, it had taken a few weeks before they formally met Nora—the soul behind the café, the woman who’d built it from scratch and passed down her love for quiet corners, cat cuddles, and warm mugs to her niece.

Nora was soft-spoken, but fierce in the most gentle way. She wore chunky knit cardigans and always smelled faintly of peppermint oil and flour. She had this way of looking at people that made them want to sit down and tell her things—stories, secrets, fears. Mallory was clearly her mirror image in spirit, molded by kindness and quiet strength.

“She’s the reason this place exists,” Mallory had told Luke one evening, her voice soft as they watched Nora teach a young couple how to coax a shy kitten out from under the armchair. “And honestly… probably the reason I exist the way I do.”

Nora wasn’t just Mallory’s aunt. She was her anchor.

So when Luke’s phone rang late one night, vibrating loud and angry against the nightstand, he answered without hesitation.

Mallory’s name flashed on the screen.

He answered with a sleepy, “Hey, Mal?” but was met only by ragged breathing.

“Mallory?” he said again, now sitting up straight, tension lacing his voice. On the other end, she was sobbing—hysterical, broken sounds that Luke had never heard from her before.

He was instantly alert. “Mallory—what’s wrong? Are you okay? What happened?”

But her words were tangled. Mumbled. Drenched in pain. Luke tried to focus, heart racing, trying to make sense of it.

Then, finally, through the tears: “Nora… she’s gone. Luke—she… she had a heart attack. They couldn’t—she—she didn’t make it.”

The words landed like ice water down his spine.

Without thinking, still holding the phone to his ear, Luke stumbled out of bed and crossed the hall. He shoved Jack’s shoulder once, then again, harder.

Jack startled awake, groggy and disoriented. “What the hell—?”

“Get up,” Luke said, his voice flat but shaking. “Something’s wrong.”

Jack sat up fast now, reading his brother’s face. The look in Luke’s eyes—he didn’t need more explanation.

“Mallory’s on the phone,” Luke said, his hand gripping the back of his neck. “It’s her aunt. Nora’s—she’s gone.”

Jack didn’t say a word. He just nodded, already pulling on sweatpants and grabbing his keys.

They didn’t speak in the car. Didn’t need to. The silence said enough.

When they got to the hospital, Mallory was sitting in one of those terrible plastic waiting chairs, curled into herself like she was trying to disappear. Her hair was pulled back in a messy knot, her hands trembling in her lap. She looked so small. So un-Mallory. Like her light had flickered and gone out.

Luke approached slowly, kneeling down in front of her.

She looked up.

And then she broke.

She folded into him with a sob so raw it felt like it tore through the sterile white walls of the ER. Luke wrapped his arms around her, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other anchored around her waist. She clung to him like he was the only solid thing left in the world.

Jack sat quietly beside them, eyes glassy but steady. He didn’t speak. Just placed a soft hand on her shoulder.

Mallory had always been the one who knew what to say. Who had the right words at the right moment, the kind of comfort that wrapped around you like a blanket. But now?

Now she had none.

And Luke knew—this was the moment that mattered most. Because what do you do when the strongest person you know is suddenly falling apart?

You hold them.

You show up.

You say nothing, but stay anyway.

Hours passed in quiet fragments. Nurses came and went. The waiting room emptied. Mallory stayed curled against Luke, her tears dried but her eyes vacant. Luke stroked her back gently, murmuring things he didn’t even know he was saying—soft nothings, reminders that he was there, that she wasn’t alone.

At some point, she whispered, “I don’t know how to do this without her.”

Luke tightened his hold.

“What would you say to me if it were the other way around?” he asked, voice low.

Mallory was quiet.

“You’d tell me it’s okay to fall apart. That I don’t have to be strong right now. That it’s okay to lean on someone. So lean on me.”

She didn’t answer. But she didn’t pull away either.

That was enough.

__

When the will was read, no one was surprised.

Nora had always made her intentions clear in the soft, matter-of-fact way only she could: Whiskers would belong to Mallory. It had been her safe place before it ever became her responsibility. The deed was signed over, fully paid off, wrapped in quiet generosity and love. No debts. No catches. Just a little corner of the world with her name on it now.

But standing behind the counter alone that first morning, Mallory felt twenty-two in a way she never had before.

The keys jingled in her hand as she unlocked the door, her reflection in the glass looking slightly too pale, slightly too tired. She could recite the opening checklist by heart. She knew how to balance the books, how to feed the cats, how to fold biscotti bags just right. But knowing and owning were two different things.

She was still a student. She was still grieving. And now, she was running a business.

Her older cousin, who had flown in from Oregon the moment the news hit, was the only reason she was holding it together at all. He’d taken over the official business side—taxes, inventory orders, payroll—and left Mallory to focus on keeping the doors open, the espresso flowing, and the regulars feeling like nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

Mallory pulled double shifts most days. Woke up at five to start the baking, stayed late after closing to do homework that never seemed to end. She hadn’t written a clean to-do list in weeks. The fridge at her apartment was empty. Clementine had started dragging her sock into the bed at night like a peace offering. And the exhaustion? It clung to her skin like sweat.

She didn’t complain, though. Because this place was hers now. And she had to make Nora proud.

Then one Thursday morning, after burning the muffins, forgetting to restock oat milk, and crying in the mop closet for twelve solid minutes, she stepped back behind the counter only to find two tall figures loitering near the espresso machine with entirely too much confidence.

“Morning, boss,” Luke said, already tying on one of the spare aprons.

Jack grinned beside him, flipping a bar towel over his shoulder. “We figured it’s time you trained us properly.”

Mallory blinked. “What?”

“You can’t get rid of us anyway,” Jack shrugged. “Might as well make us useful.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but Luke was already setting up the grinder with perfect form. “I Googled it,” he said with a wink. “We’re basically professionals.”

“I don’t—guys, you don’t have to do this.”

“We want to,” Luke said, voice softer now. “Let us help.”

Mallory stared at them for a beat, her eyes glassy from more than just sleep deprivation. She could argue. She could pretend she had it all under control. But she didn’t.

And God, it felt good to let someone hold part of the weight.

“Fine,” she said, grabbing a third apron and tossing it at Jack. “But if you mess up the espresso, you’re on bathroom cleaning duty for a month.”

Jack caught it midair. “Deal.”

From that day forward, the Hughes brothers became part of the Whiskers crew.

Luke handled the register—charming customers, flirting with old ladies, remembering people’s orders like it was second nature. Jack took on espresso duty with laser focus, determined to master the art of a perfect pour-over. They bickered constantly over music playlists, tripped over sleeping cats, and oversteamed milk more times than anyone could count.

But it didn’t matter.

Because Mallory wasn’t alone anymore.

They filled the café with laughter again. With extra hands and clumsy help and early morning coffee runs. Luke took over breakfast duty some mornings so she could sleep an extra hour. Jack learned how to do inventory. Mallory caught them reading How to Manage a Small Business for Dummies one night after closing and pretended not to cry.

Whiskers stayed open. And somehow, through the chaos and grief and spilled oat milk, it thrived.

Mallory often found herself pausing in the middle of it all—hands dusted in flour, hair pinned back, cats weaving through legs—just to watch the two of them. Luke flirting with a regular who was at least seventy. Jack trying to argue with Missy about which stool he was allowed to sit on.

She’d never imagined she’d love two hockey players like this. Like family. Like breath and comfort and sunrise.

The truth was, she didn’t just love the Hughes boys.

She needed them.

And they showed up for her in every way that mattered.

__

It had been weeks—months, even—since Mallory had a proper night off. The kind where she wasn’t multitasking between homework and baking, or replying to emails with flour on her cheek, or falling asleep on the café couch with Clementine purring on her chest and the sound of the espresso machine still buzzing in her ears.

Sure, Jack and Luke helped. Constantly. Relentlessly. But they were still professional athletes. There were away games, long practices, press responsibilities. And Mallory, in her ever selfless way, refused to let them take on more than they already were. Especially since they refused to accept even a dime in return for the hours they clocked in as honorary baristas.

So Luke Hughes made a plan.

A real one. An honest-to-God, no-half-measures, operation-code-named “Date Night.”

He got Jack on board first. That was easy. Jack was all in, especially when he heard it involved breaking and entering—technically—with the emergency key Mallory had given them months ago.

Then came the cousin. Mallory’s older cousin, who had become the business brain of Whiskers, gave them the official stamp of approval. As long as nothing caught fire and all the cats survived, they had a green light.

And finally, the recruits.

By midnight, the lights inside Whiskers flicked on one by one, the glow pooling across the dark sidewalk like a secret. Inside, a sight to behold: a squad of confused but eager New Jersey Devils players, sleeves rolled up and eyes wide as they stared at coffee beans, brewing guides, and—most intimidating of all—Missy, perched atop the counter like a very judgmental manager.

“Okay,” Luke clapped his hands. “If we can run power plays, we can run a damn espresso machine.”

“Speak for yourself,” Curtis muttered, already holding the milk steamer backwards.

Nico Hischier, ever the captain and certified coffee enthusiast, took his training very seriously. He had a notebook. He had questions. He had already pulled three sample shots to get his “ratios right.”

Jack, self-declared floor manager for the evening, barked out orders with Missy balanced like a loaf of bread in one arm. “Dawson, front of house. Jesper, you’re bussing tables. Don’t look at me like that—you’re tall, you can carry stuff. Nico, stop trying to make foam flowers and listen to Luke.”

“It’s a leaf!” Nico snapped.

“It’s a blob, bro.”

The chaos was immediate. Cats weaving between skates left by the front door, espresso dripping unevenly, someone accidentally knocking over a bag of biscotti.

But the effort? Impeccable.

Luke taught them everything he and Jack had learned. How to pull a shot, how to tamp the grounds just right, how to gently nudge a cat off the register without being mauled. They practiced for hours, growing a little more confident—if not a little more competent—by the minute.

By 3am, the café was spotless, the lights dimmed back to their usual glow, and the boys slipped out the door with high-fives and groggy laughs.

The next morning, Mallory showed up just before opening with dark circles under her eyes, a bag full of books, and the expectation of another long, exhausting day.

What she wasn’t expecting?

A gaggle of very tall, very smug hockey players already inside, all donning matching Whiskers aprons with varying degrees of confidence.

She blinked. “…What the hell?”

Luke popped up from behind the counter, grinning ear to ear. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Why are you here?”

Before she could even process the full scope of the invasion, Jack appeared beside her with Missy cradled in one arm and a clipboard in the other.

“Team’s here. We’ve got this. Go put on something cute. You’ve got plans.”

Mallory looked around, genuinely speechless. Nico was fiddling with the espresso machine (and yes, proudly presenting his latte art to Jesper, who clapped even though it still looked like a leaf-shaped blob). Dawson was carefully arranging the pastry case. A cat was curled up in Timo Meier’s lap while he read a children’s book aloud like it was his own kid.

It was absurd. Beautifully absurd.

Mallory opened her mouth to argue. To protest. To insist that this was her café, her responsibility, her weight to carry.

But then she looked at Luke.

He stood there by the door, coat in hand, holding it open like a promise.

And suddenly, her knees didn’t feel so steady.

So she let herself be led out into the morning air. They walked hand in hand down to the docks, the world still waking up, the air crisp and quiet around them. Luke didn’t talk much. He didn’t have to. He just walked beside her, thumb tracing soft circles over her knuckles.

They stopped at the edge of the pier. Boats rocked gently in their slips. The water glittered like glass.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said. “But you needed a break.”

She looked up at him, heart so full it almost hurt. “How do you always know?”

Luke gave a small, crooked smile and leaned in, brushing his nose against hers. “Because I read you like a book, remember?”

Mallory let out a breathy laugh, soft and full of wonder.

She kissed him.

And for a moment, the world held its breath.

Because she loved him. God, she really did.

And Luke?

Luke had known it long before now.

__

Whiskers was at max capacity—and Mallory was at her limit.

The café had quietly become one of the busiest fostering hubs in the city, thanks in no small part to the steady stream of attention it had been getting from hockey fans and latte art lovers alike. But lately? It was too much. Too many cats. Too few hands. Every time Mallory turned around, another furball needed medicine, food, or affection. She had tried to downsize, to slow adoptions until things were more manageable, but that only made the list grow longer.

And Jack? Jack was one tiny, blinking kitten away from adopting all of them.

“This one’s looking at me weird,” he said one evening, cradling a tabby in his hoodie like it was his newborn child. “I think he’s trying to tell me something.”

“Jack,” Mallory sighed.

“He said my soul is his home.”

“Jack.”

“He’s already named. Horatio.”

“JACK.”

But Luke didn’t laugh like he usually would. He watched from across the café, leaning against the counter, something quietly forming in the back of his mind. That night, Mallory passed out at the café desk again, face in a textbook, Clementine perched protectively on her shoulder. Luke tucked a blanket over her and pulled out his phone.

He had an idea.

And this time, he was going big.

Within a week, the Devils’ media team was involved. Actually, they were obsessed. Once Luke pitched the idea—an adoption event pairing each player with a foster cat—the social media interns practically burst into flames.

“It’s like… a cat draft.”

“No. No. It’s a cat red carpet.”

“Devils x Whiskers: Catwalk to Forever.”

“Stop, I’m going to cry.”

Plans moved fast. The team created promo posters. Luke personally organized the players, matching each one with a foster cat like it was fantasy hockey but furrier. The rules? Each player had to spend a few days bonding with their assigned cat, then debut them at the event in a themed outfit of their choice. Yes, even the cats had to be dressed up. Tastefully. Adorably.

Mallory didn’t know what hit her.

One minute she was trying to wrestle a tuxedo onto an uncooperative calico, and the next, she was watching Curtis Lazar strut down a mini red carpet holding a gray kitten in a sequined bow tie like it was a high-fashion handbag. Timo Meier wore matching sunglasses with his foster. Jack came out with “his” cat (Missy, obviously) in a black tutu and announced she was debuting her solo album.

But the true highlight?

Nico Hischier, cradling a shy orange tabby named Peanut Butter, who was dressed in a custom little captain’s jersey. Nico tried to act indifferent, but by the end of the night, he was lying on the floor feeding Peanut Butter treats and telling Jack, “He seems really chill. I mean… if no one else wants him, I guess he can come home with me.”

Jack screamed. Mallory cried. Missy blinked once in approval.

And somehow—miraculously—every single cat was adopted by the end of the night.

Families came, fans came, people who had never even heard of Whiskers until the Devils posted an Instagram reel of Jesper Bratt waltzing with a tabby kitten came.

And Luke?

Luke stayed in the background, smiling the whole time.

That night, after the café had been cleared out and the lights dimmed, Mallory found Luke sweeping glitter off the carpet.

She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes glassy.

“You did all of this.”

He shrugged. “You needed help.”

She stepped closer. “You got Nico to adopt a cat.”

“He loves Peanut Butter. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“And you—” she swallowed hard, emotion catching in her throat. “You made my whole heart feel so… full.”

Luke looked up at her, and for a moment, the whole café was still. The lights twinkled low, the faint scent of espresso and fresh catnip lingered in the air, and the boy who never really saw himself as anything more than a hockey player was suddenly the reason everything worked.

Mallory cupped his face in her hands and kissed him slow.

“You’re my Whiskers,” she whispered. “You know that?”

He smiled against her lips. “I was really hoping you'd say that.”

And from her cozy little café filled with love, fur, and far too much glitter—Mallory knew something with absolute certainty:

Luke Hughes wasn’t just the boy she loved.

He was home.

__

The morning after the adoption event was quiet.

For once, Whiskers didn’t open at its usual hour. A printed sign hung crookedly on the door, written in Mallory’s neat handwriting: Closed for the morning. Thank you for all the love. See you this afternoon.

Inside, the café was still. Sunlight filtered in through the front windows, scattering soft gold across the floorboards. A few of the permanent resident cats lounged in their usual spots—Missy on her throne of a cushion behind the counter, Clementine perched on the window ledge like a queen surveying her kingdom.

In the back, the tiny staff room smelled like fresh linens and vanilla. And in the corner, curled up together on the old loveseat that barely fit one person, let alone two, were Luke and Mallory.

She wore his Devils hoodie, sleeves swallowed over her hands. He wore a Whiskers apron that had definitely seen better days and smelled vaguely like cinnamon and cat treats. Their legs were tangled together, and Mallory’s head rested on his chest, rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breathing.

It had been a whirlwind—the red carpet, the press, the laughter, the chaos—and now there was only this: the quiet after.

Luke stirred first. He blinked slowly, taking in the way the light danced in Mallory’s hair, the way her fingers curled into the hem of his hoodie like she didn’t want to let go. He didn’t move. Didn’t want to.

His heart was full. His world was soft. And she was here.

Mallory shifted, murmuring sleepily, “Are the cats making coffee without us?”

He chuckled. “Missy’s working the register. I think she’s unionizing.”

She smiled against his chest. “Good. It’s about time someone did.”

They stayed like that for a while. No pressure to move, no rush to clean or prep or respond to emails. Just silence, interrupted occasionally by a distant purr or the creak of an old chair settling.

Eventually, Mallory sat up, stretching and yawning like one of the cats. Luke watched her, chin resting on his palm, totally, hopelessly gone.

She caught him staring.

“What?”

He just smiled. “Nothing. You’re just… glowing. You know that?”

Her cheeks pinked. “I think that’s exhaustion.”

“Nope. It’s joy. And cat hair.”

“Mostly cat hair,” she agreed, brushing a tuft from her sleeve.

He sat up, hands finding her waist, thumbs pressing into her sides gently. “I meant what I said yesterday,” he told her. “You’re it for me. You always have been. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never have to carry anything alone.”

Mallory’s eyes stung. The good kind of sting.

“I love you,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against his. “So much, it scares me sometimes.”

“Good,” Luke said. “That means we’re doing it right.”

A soft knock came from the front of the café.

They both froze.

Jack’s voice called out, muffled through the door. “If you’re decent, I brought muffins. If you’re not decent… I’m still coming in.”

Mallory snorted. Luke groaned.

But when they stood, when they opened the door and saw Jack standing there in sweats, holding a bakery bag in one hand and Missy tucked under the other like a furry football, Mallory smiled so wide it hurt her cheeks.

Because this was it.

Her home. Her people. Her peace.

And she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[trippinsorrows]

dreamland: yacht it up

authors note: this is essentially a part 2 to the tiktok live oneshot, except way longer with some other stuff sprinkled in that is lore and backstory.

also, if that scene feels a lil' off and different for them, they been together damn near 17 years atp. that part of their life has definitely evolved. lmao.

warnings: fluff and smut

words: 10k

It’s the slow, steady, and quiet rise and fall of Aroha’s chest that lets Roman know she’s fallen asleep. He looks down, soaking in the peaceful expression of her little face as she clutches one of her stuffed animals, soft breaths leaving her partially open mouth, turned into Roman’s body where she was only minutes prior engaged in the book he was reading her. 

He waits a good minute or two, wanting to ensure she’s entered that deep REM of sleep before carefully separating her, adjusting the blankets over her body. Roman lays the book on the nightstand and leans down to kiss her forehead, a gentle caress of her temple, his parting gesture before he quietly exits the cabin. 

A careful closing of the door as Roman walks over to the other side of the hall, lightly knocking on the door before opening. He’s met with the unsurprising sight of his twin boys sitting on either side of the king size bed, headsets on as they focus on the TV before them. 

“Ya’ll good?” A simple question. The most that’s required for the inarguably easiest of The Tribal Chief’s seven children. 

Koa is the one to answer, never taking his focus off the television. “Yup.”

Roman chuckles, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. “Ya’ll sure you don’t want to come up?”

“Is it time to eat?”

Roman rolls his eyes. “You already know the answer to that.” They just had lunch approximately an hour ago.

“We’ll come up when it’s time for dinner,” Koa takes over, quietly cursing at some obvious mishap with the game they’re playing. “Our social batteries need to be recharged.”

If there was ever a statement that Roman related to with his entirety, it’s that one. Granted, he often finds himself not struggling with socialization when it comes to his family, his kids, but he also understands Koa and Kai have a different, sometimes shorter fuse.

He also vividly recalls the argument they got into with Aroha earlier over who the fuck knows earlier, and arguments between the Littles often take a lot out of all three. Partially why Aroha went down so easily for her nap.

“Alright,” Roman kicks off the door, hand on the knob. “No hacking shit, either.” Grumbling requires him to double down. “You heard what I said.” 

“Fine,” Simultaneous expressions of forced, reluctant agreement. Roman shuts the door. 

That’s good enough for him.

Last, but certainly not least, he moves to the door of the last cabin in this section of the yacht. Three light knocks to the door, followed up with a quiet, “baby, you good?” 

The only response given is the somewhat loud sound of snoring from the other side. A small smile falls on his face. If there’s one thing he can always count on, it’s not only his middle daughter being able to fall asleep with the most ease but also staying asleep for what’s probably an abnormal amount of time. 

Rain, sleet, snow, hurricane, tornado, even being on a whole ass yacht, Samaria Reigns will always make time for her naps. 

Expected, as well, given they left relatively early, and she’d complained for almost fifteen minutes straight on the ride to the dock about him and Solana “rudely” interrupting her “mandatory beauty sleep.”

Whatever the fuck that meant. 

Satisfied with the younger of his kids being set and settled, Roman makes his way through the interior to the custom designed Hermes staircase that provides entrance to five separate decks, the fifth being the one where he’ll find the remainder of his family. 

And, he does.

Roman's' greeted by the sound of Spanish music blaring and the intense sunshine beaming down against his body, prompting him to lower his sunglasses from the top of his head, sitting them on the bridge of his nose. 

The sound of laughter is mixed in with the music, the small smile on Roman’s face growing ever so slightly at seeing his eldest children, Lina and Leya dancing along playfully with Solana. All wear broad, happy smiles, their laughter the chorus of his favorite song. 

The sound of whooping and a semi deep voice drags Roman’s focus to his firstborn son, Tama, who holds up a phone, recording himself, arm lifted and extended, clearly intending and succeeding in getting his sisters and mother in frame of said video.

Roman rolls his eyes, seeing the way Tama smirks and flexes for the camera. Let no one ever say that boy isn’t confident, borderline arrogant, but with many things he sees in his son, he can’t complain. 

Tama is every bit of him, in most ways, when he was fifteen. 

Like father, like son. 

The only difference being Roman has always been more subtle and somewhat quiet with his arrogance. Tama has never, and probably will never, be afraid to outwardly show and tell everyone exactly why he's exactly who he says he is.

Roman respects that in some ways. A lot of ways, maybe.

Recognizing that while his son is capturing the moment, his footage is more likely to have him as the star versus a shared showing of his siblings and mom, hence Roman walking over to the bar area where his camera sits. 

He grabs it, quickly adjusting the settings and swapping out the lens, opting for something better suited for the setting. And, the first snapped photo shows Solana laughing as she dances what he’s pretty sure is called bachata with Leya, Lina also now with her phone to record as well. Similar to her brother, she’s the star of her own film. 

Roman continues to snap photo after photo, stealing and cementing these moments of happiness, of bliss, with his family. It’s one of the reasons he enjoys taking them all out on the $200 million dollar superyacht he and Solana designed years prior. Nine cabins, multiple pools, fireplaces, a spa, a gym, and entertainment areas like an outdoor cinema and a dance floor. All designed solely for this purpose. To have these wholesome moments with their family. Just them, and the required crew, out on the beautiful waters, away from all the hustle and bustle of the land.

Peaceful.

It’s peaceful. 

And, in the life Roman Reigns lives, he’ll savor any and all semblance of peace.

Eventually, he’s spotted, first by his sweet Leya, her cheeks tinged with pink as she nervously laughs, hiding her face. “Daddy.”

It causes three sets of eyes to land on him, Tama smiling and the first to say, “make sure you get my good side, old man.”

“Get a good side, and then I’ll capture it.”

Lina whoops, making a sound, laughing, “Dad-1. Tama-0. Damn, bro, how you letting our old man clown you like that?”

Tama scoffs, lowering his arm, looking down at his phone. Probably to stop the recording. “Cause I respect my ancient elders.”

“Stop it,” Solana playfully scolds, slapping him on his arm. She shakes her head, lifting her hand to her forehead, a makeshift shield of sorts to obscure some of the sun’s rays. 

Lowering his camera, it’s only then Roman finds himself truly distracted by his fine ass wife as she walks in his direction. Her striped bikini leaves little to the imagination in a lot of ways. Appropriate to wear around the kids, but that naturally voluptuous body still manages to push the material to its max while leaving little to the imagination. 

Big, full breasts bouncing with each step, thick thighs rubbing together, hips swaying as he recalls the jiggle of her ass when she was dancing with their teenagers only minutes prior. Solana has always been absolutely stunning to him, but seven children later, her curves continue to tempt him in the best and worst ways.

Hence why they have seven children.

Approaching, she grabs a hold of his forearm. “Are they good?”

Roman nods, using the viewfinder to peruse some of the photos, including the ones Solana took of him and the kids earlier in the day. “She went down almost immediately. The boys are gaming, and Aria—”

“Out like a light?” Solana finishes and giggles. “At least we know she gets her proper amount of sleep.”

“Baby, she gets too much sleep. That shit can’t be normal.” Even without looking up from the camera, Roman knows his son well, prematurely interrupting what’s bound to be a smartass comment. “Say nothing.”

The sound of snickering from his twin girls confirms his suspicions. Another giggle from his wife, who he moves his arm around, pulling her against his solid body. “Look.”

She does so, smile broadening as he scrolls through the captured pictures. Solana gasps in awe, moving her arms around his waist. “You’re so good.” An appreciated compliment, but he’s more focused on the subjects versus the photo quality. “Sometimes, I wish….”

Her trailing off prompts him to look down. “What?”

Something flashes in her eyes as her smile shifts into something a little more subtle. “Nothing.” He’s visibly ready to push back, prompting her to lift her hand to his face. She says something in Spanish, leaning up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Come on.” 

Solana takes his hand and leads him over to the seating area where the kids are already sitting, sharing phone screens with one another. 

Roman feels Solana grab his hand, squeezing gently when he moves quickly to lower her onto his lap as he sits down on one of the chairs. Solana squeals when he places the camera down next to them in exchange for his hand moving down the small of her back to grasp at her ass.

“Damn,” he murmurs. This boat trip today might have to be cut short, or he’ll have to take advantage of the younger kids being occupied and his oldest able to keep themselves busy.

As if reading his thoughts, Solana glares playfully. “Stop it.”

“Yeah, not in front of us, please.” Lina scowls, shaking her head. She then looks at Solana while gesturing to Leya. “Hey, mommy. Sissy and I need to go shopping sometime in the next two weeks.” Lina’s scowl deepens, as does her voice that’s now filled with irritation. “I think we need to go up a cup size again.”

At that, Roman finds himself frowning and confused. “Ain’t we got enough cups at the damn house?” A bit of an unnecessary question, as he already knows the answer. With such a big family, they have two separate pantries. One for snacks, and one specifically for dishes and pots, also due to his wife’s passion for cooking and impressive collection of only the finest cookware.

“Yeah, a lot of them big ones, too,” Tama agrees, clearly just as innocently lost as his dad. Solana shakes her head, as Leya’s blush deepens, Lina being the one to answer in only a way Lina would answer. 

“We’re talking about boob cup sizes.” And if that wasn’t a horrific enough clarification, Lina just has to take it to the next level, grabbing her chest and gently shaking her breast. “Ya know, titties.”

“Jesus Christ, Lina” Roman is convinced these damn kids are trying to kill him. He just hasn’t been able to prove it yet. “I fucking get it, okay? Why you gotta talk about this shit now anyway?”

“Seriously,” Tama is now scowling, hand over his mouth like he’s about to throw up. Roman can relate. “I don’t wanna hear about that with my sisters.”

Leya is the one to giggle, partially amused by the whole thing as she shifts on the seat, tucking her legs under her bottom. “Why? It’s just human anatomy.”

“Just change the subject, please.” Roman is readying to rub his temples when Solana instead soothes him with a kiss to the bridge of his nose and finishing up said conversation.

“Of course, we’ll go next weekend. Samaria was asking the same, so she can come with us.”

“Mama!”

“Solana.”

Shared disgust and borderline contempt from father and son, neither of them wanting to think about the second youngest Reigns girl in that capacity. Especially Roman. He hates thinking about any of his kids growing up, especially his daughters. Truth be told, it still hasn’t really set in that they’re already sixteen years-old.

Sixteen.

Roman still feels like it was only yesterday he and Solana took them home from the hospital for the first time. And now, in just two years, they’ll be leaving for college. 

Fuck. 

“Fine.” Solana sucks her teeth, moving her arms around his neck as she successfully changes the subject. “Do you guys wanna do it now?”

Roman’s attention snaps to his wife. “Do what?”

“Oh yeah,” Leya agrees, her dad looking over at her now with transferred confusion. “We can? Since Roro and Aria are asleep.”

“And, we know the boys won’t interrupt,” Lina snorts.

“Do what?” Roman asks once more. It’s always irritated him to no end to be kept out of the loop of things. 

Tama smiles that shit eating grin, very similar to Roman’s smile, a rarity, but something that makes appearances every so often. “Part 2 of the Q and A for our TikTok page.”

And, right away, Roman is wishing he hadn’t even asked. “Shit, you still wanna do that?”

Lina nods, smiling with excitement, fidgeting on her seat while laying out the stats. “Daddy, that video with you and mommy is our most watched one on our whole channel. Over 5 million views, like 20 thousand comments. Add in sissy, and you won’t even have to pay for our college.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tama scoffs, muttering something about wanting his “full inheritance.”

Roman doesn’t even have time to address his son. That’s a later problem. “Ya’ll really wanna do that now?” He scowls, just now really taking in and realizing his fine ass wife isn’t the only one dressed in a barely there bikini. Both his daughters, his minor daughters are wearing bikinis, which is fine, because it’s only them. But, going Live or whatever on their TikTok shit will mean they’re exposed to thousands, maybe more, seeing them so…indecent. 

And, that’s the shit he really dislikes. 

“You should change first.”

Lina, not to his surprise whatsoever, is the one to push back. She motions around. “Why? We’re outside on a yacht, wearing bathing suits, what’s the issue?” And, because she’s every bit his daughter, she can’t not point out, “just because you’re dressed like it’s winter doesn’t mean we have to be, too.”

Roman rolls his eyes. Never mind the fact Solana herself made a comment about his black long sleeved shirt earlier. Fact of the matter is he’ll take his shirt off if and when he wants to, and he doesn’t want to, so they can deal. 

Back to Lina’s initial question, he answers without much thought and all honesty, “cause I don’t want the internet people seeing ya’ll half dressed.” 

Tama snorts. “Internet people.” The fifteen year-old shakes his head, texting on his phone. “Dad is low key the funniest person ever.”

Lina, however, remains committed to her stance. “Daddy, have you not seen my Instagram?”

Roman frowns. “I thought you deleted it.” 

Lina’s attitude is dampened by the realization she’s talked too much, evident when Leya subtly elbows her and Tama shoots her a ‘shut up’ look. All of which is not missed upon The Tribal Chief.

“Why can’t I find your account anymore, Catalina?” Roman asks, all three of his teens looking away. “So, none of ya’ll know how to speak?” Still, silence. “I asked ya’ll a question.” Because while he addressed it to his oldest, anyone able to provide him with an answer is eligible to answer, and it's plain as day each holds the capability of doing just that.

“Honey, you were….” Solana moves her hand to the back of his head, stroking the hair on the nape of his neck, an act often done when she’s trying to comfort or calm him down. “You were threatening people in their comments.”

Roman scowls, practically offended. Not really. Only slightly. “Only the people who deserved it.”

Leya’s eyes widen. “Our classmates, daddy?”

God forbid, Roman takes some accountability for earning, what he’s sure now, is a block from all three of his kids that are on social media, as it also dawns on him he hasn't seen Leya or Tama's posts in some time, either. “Those fuckers looked too damn old to be in high school. How do I even know they go to ya’ll school? Especially that ugly ass lil' boy who needs Proactive.”

Tama and Leya share a look of confusion over a reference far beyond their time as their sister and father go back and forth with each other like a tennis match between Serena and Venus Williams. “Jared is my lab partner, daddy," she answers, throwing her hands up. “And, he’s gay.” 

“Allegedly.”

“Oh my goodness,” Solana groans, grabbing him by his beard, stroking his grayed out hair. “Roman, it’s fine. I still monitor their pages—”

“Wait,” he frowns. “They didn’t block you, too?”

“We could never block, mama,” Tama refutes, as if Roman even suggesting as such was an insult.

A look of unabashed incredulity. “But, you can block me?”

“Well, yes,” Lina answers as if it’s the most simplest thing in the world. “You were doing too much.”

“Damn kids get on my fucking nerves,” he grumbles, his pride more insulted than anything. How come Solana gets to see their pages but he can’t? Fucking unfair, biased ass children.

He makes a mental note to ask Koa and Kai help him regain access. He'll just buy them more computer equipment or some shit in exchange.

“We love you, too, daddy,” Leya smiles, making a heart with her hands. He won’t outwardly show it, but it helps. None of his kids have the level of hold that Leya does over him. Not even Aroha, in some instances. It’s always been something about her that can make him feel even just slightly better on the worst of days.

A gift she inherited from her mother, clearly. 

As with most things, Roman groans and complains but still ends up agreeing to do this part 2 his kids have been hounding him about since the last Live apparently “blew up.” Though, he makes it clear this is his last, something that doesn’t seem to be believed by, well, any of them.

Not even his wife.

Traitor. 

Less than twenty minutes later, some repositioning of where everyone was sitting so Solana is next to her husband, with Lina and Ley also still sitting together but the gap closed so they’ll be in frame of the backup phone Tama is using to go live.

“Alright, we are live from—well, a yacht,” is his introduction as he stands with his arms spread, smile still just as wide, the wind whipping against the loose strands of his long black hair that escaped the bun he usually keeps it in, similar to his dad. “You know, that rich boy shit.”

“Tama.” A name drop from his parents, both for different reasons. Solana, for his language. For Roman, a reason he explains in no unclear terms.

“I’m rich. You’re poor. Don't get it twisted.”

Snickering from his sisters, Tama’s scowl faltering as he easily redirects focus. “As ya’ll can see, we got the biggest hater alive and first long-term nursing home escapee with us today.” He sucks his teeth, feigning annoyance only to smile happily. “But, also our beautiful mama, and…” He trails off, allowing Lina to do the honors.

“My sissy,” she squeals, holding and hugging Leya who offers a small wave adjoined with her usual shy smile. “Hi,” Leya greets, laughing nervously, shifting on the seat. 

OMG MY SHOW IS ON!

Waitttt, not an unexpected Q and A!

Awww, that’s so sweet ya’ll do family stuff like that. 🥰

I’ve literally never seen an entire family be so damn fine. Lawd. 

Stop, I’ve been waitinggg for this like you don’t even knowwww.

“Okay.” Tama claps, gesturing around and offering explanation. “So, we’re having a family boat day, and since our little siblings are off doing them, we figure why not do the part 2 ya’ll been hounding us for since the first video.”

“And since we didn’t get to some of the frequently asked questions, we’ll try to answer those as well as some of the other questions specifically for Leya,” Lina offers, looking at her parents and twin for some type of confirmation that they’re ready.

“Let’s just get this shit over with.”

“Daddy,” Leya and Lina scold in synch, the younger of the twins serving as a mini Solana as she warns him, “be nice.” 

Stop. Cause Roman is so damn funny! 😂

Now why ya’ll keep making this man do this shit? 🥲

Solana is soooo pretty. Geesh.

This might sound stupid, but I never realized just how different Lina and Leya look. Like, they’re twins, but they look different? Does that make any sense?

Lina, reading some of the comments, catches one and uses it as a starting point. “That’s actually something I get asked a lot. If sissy and I are identical or fraternal twins, and we are….” She looks over at Leya, letting her answer.

“Identical,” Leya smiles and giggles, nervously pushing a ringlet behind her ear. “But, I think because we are so different, that makes it seem like we’re fraternal.”

A statement that no one disagrees with. One look at the girls, and it’s obvious they’re twins, but a few minutes into conversation, one can see the stark differences. Even with assessing their apparel, Leya dressing in more traditional “girly” outfits. Lots of pink and dresses. Lina, if wearing a dress, bound to show an amount of skin that has her dad reaching for his medication.

“And, I guess since we’re on it, one of the things ya’ll ask a lot about, too, is what it’s like being a twin,” Lina recites the question she’s seen pop up at least a hundred times, offering the initial answer. “I won’t speak for my sissy, but I can say for me, Leya is my absolute best friend. Like, familial soulmate. I could never do life without her. I know you guys are so used to seeing me with Tama all the time, and that’s my partner in crime for life, but sissy?” She shakes her head. “My other half.”

Solana and Leya are both pouting, clearly choked up from Lina’s rare display of vulnerability. “Catalina.” Leya whines, hugging her sister from the side. “I love you.” 

“Love you too, sissy,” Lina blows her sister a kiss, looking over at her brother, signaling him to take over once more.

“Alright, sappy stuff out the way, let’s get into more of these questions.” Tama has his phone out now, the list of questions in front of him. “Oooh, this one’s good.” He looks over at his parents. “How many tattoos do ya’ll have?”

Solana makes a face at the same time Roman scoffs. She’s the first to answer, frowning almost. “I don’t even know, to be honest.” She lifts her arms just enough, turning them inward to expose her inner forearms, providing an unobscured view of her inked skin. “I have butterfly tattoos for all my kids, my husband, and our late dog.” She gestures to her side. “I have a matching tattoo with some of my best girlfriends who are like sisters.” Her hand hovers over her clavicle. “Another tattoo for my husband.” Solana gestures to the space below the back of her neck. “Another one back there.” She stops, having to think. “One that my sister-in-law and I got together. Another shared one with girlfriends.” Solana looks over at Roman, somewhat asking, “I think that’s it.”

He nods, agreeing, offering a much simpler explanation. “Full sleeve on both arms. Chest. Back. And all of my tattoos are almost entirely tribal along with my family’s names included in various parts.” Nothing beyond that, which is expected. Roman is a man of few words when more is not required, and participating in a Q an A for his teenagers’ social media platform isn’t an exception for that.

Solana laughs quietly, apologizing, “sorry, that wasn’t a number, but we have a lot, I suppose.”

“Close enough, mama,” Tama shrugs, asking the latter portion. “And, the other part was if you would be okay with us getting tattoos someday?”

Roman tackles that one. “As long as you let us know, so you can use our tattooist and not some random incompetent person, we don’t care.”

Solana nods, offering while speaking more to the viewers. “Yeah, I mean, it would feel a bit hypocritical if we wouldn’t approve of them having tattoos when we ourselves have them, you know?”

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is how you do good parenting. 👆🏽

I genuinely love and appreciate how fair your parents are. 

I love how their tattoos all have meaning. 🥺

Wish more parents could be like ya’ll’s tbh. 

“We’ve all talked about it actually,” Leya partially surprises the group by speaking up, nervously fiddling with the strap of her bikini top. “The three of us getting a matching tattoo once we’re all 18.”

“What are ya’ll gonna get?” Roman asks, clearly intrigued, Solana beside him emoting the same interest. 

“Haven’t decided yet,” Lina answers. “But, we’ll run it by you before we do so.”

“I want lips on my neck,” Tama smirks, earning an eye roll from his father and a scowl from his mom.

“Don’t come up in my house with that shit,” Roman warns, making his son laugh.

Tama’s grin is shit-eating. “Come on, OTC, you not gon’ support me?”

“Not when you’re doing stupid shit like that.” 

“Honey, please,” Solana scolds lightly, moving her hand to Roman’s knee. “Be nice.”

“Naw, mommy, he’s right. We can’t have Tama out here embarrassing our family like that,” Lina backs up her dad, shaking her head. “It’s bad enough he’s the family hoe.”

“You really wanna—never mind,” Tama stops himself. As much as they all like to joke around each other, he recognizes not everything needs to be put online. And even hinting at something like his sister liking to date around could invite all kinds of hateful comments. He doesn’t want to put her through that and won’t. “Anyway, moving on.”

Lmaooo this whole family is so funny, I swear. 😂😂😂

This deadass is better than cable. 😭

Getting a tattoo of lips on your neck is so tacky, I’m sorry. 🙄

It’s always so cute how Solana is trying to reign in that mean ass husband of hers. 

“Leya, what sports, if any, do you play?” Tama reads off the question, looking over at his sister who is once again visibly nervous at having the attention on herself. 

“I’m on the dance team at school, but that’s it,” she answers, smiling shyly while gesturing to her nearby siblings. “Sissy and Tama have always been the sporty ones.”

“Our younger brothers also play sports, but Leya, our middle sister, and our baby sister aren't really into sports like that.”

Roman chuckles. “Especially the middle one.”

“We tried.” The faintest hint of an amused smile on Solana’s face as she looks up at her husband. “Our youngest and middle just don’t like sports.” 

That one sentence evokes laughter from the teens, Tama being the one to share bits and pieces of what they’re all thinking of.

“Dad tried to get our middle sister to give at least one sport a chance last year, so she picked soccer, and it was the funniest thing ever,” Tama runs his hand over his face, vividly recalling that iconic and hilarious day.

“At the one and only game she played in, she was literally just standing there posing for the photographer, ran in the opposite direction when the ball was coming towards her, was picking daisies.” Lina wipes at her eyes, tears forming from the comedy of it all. “It was honestly the best day ever.”

Leya giggles. “Didn’t she ask when the next game was?”

“Never,” Roman answers, shaking his head. “I told her never. Had us all up there early to watch her literally do nothing.”

“Not true, daddy, she was serving in them photos,” Lina counters with a snort. If there’s one thing her little sister will have, it’s sass. She sees a lot of herself in Aria sometimes, especially as she gets older.

LMAO not the baby picking flowers during a whole ass game! 😂

Oooh, I know Roman was irritated as hell. 😫

It’s giving ya’ll should have just left lil ma’am alone.’ 

Ya’ll need to start recording shit or something. This is comedy GOLD. 🤣

Where are ya’ll? 👀

“On our family's yacht,” Tama answers, gesturing around with his arms. “On top of the world.”

Perusing the comments, he's met with mostly playful comments of jealousy and questions about his parents openness towards adoption. But, as always with the internet, there’s the few sour patches that seek to only spew negativity and hatred.

I heard that their mom was an escort who got pregnant to trap the dad, and he just got stuck with her.

@/user???? What the hell? Where did you even hear that?

Saw it on a gossip website. 

@/user I believe it. The mom looks the type. Shame the daughters will probably go down the same route. Look at how they’re all dressed. Like sluts.

Lina is too preoccupied, going through her list of questions, sharing it with Leya to see what she wants to answer next, that she doesn’t see the hateful, libelous, judgmental conversation. But, he does, and that’s more than enough.

The complete shift in Tama’s voice and expression draws the attention of his family. If there was any doubt about how much he's like his father, it's squashed as anger overtakes his features. Straight up Roman. “Hey, look, ya’ll can miss me with that disrespectful shit. Say what you want about me, but keep my sisters’ and mama’s name out ya’ fucking mouths.” 

The profanity isn’t something that earns a warning comment from Solana, as she knows her son well enough to know Tama only really curses in front of her when something’s really irked him or he’s extremely upset, the latter of which seems to be the case.

And, Lina, true to Lina nature, doesn’t even need to know the context to back her brother up. “Cause the tea is ya’ll would never say it to our faces. Period.”

Never. That’s what helps both the hotheaded teens maintain their composure when it comes to the online bullshit that comes with having their platform sometimes. People only say the shit they do, because they can hide behind keyboards and burner accounts. Never would they be bold enough to spew such vitriol in front of them.

Not without getting they ass beat, of course. 

and that is how you shut shit down. 👆🏽

I love how Tama doesn’t play about his mom and sisters. You can tell Roman taught him right.

Idk wtf that other user is talking about. Just looking for attention.🥴 I live in the same city as them, and it’s a known fact their parents' marriage was a business arrangement, and they ended up falling in love. 

@/user Oooh anything else you can share?

@/user What you see on here is pretty much what you get. Roman doesn’t play about his family, and everyone around town knows Lina and Tama are just mini him’s. Messing with them has never turned out well for anyone…

“What did they say?” Come’s Roman’s deep voice. Similar to his son, all business. 

Solana moves her hand to his biceps, subtly moving it up and down to comfort him, murmuring something indecipherable for the viewers.

“It’s not worth it,” Leya’s comment is aimed towards both her siblings and her dad, a small nod shared between herself and her mom, the calmer of the five. “Let’s just keep going.” 

A heavy sigh from both the men, followed by a quiet ‘okay’ from Tama. Nothing from Roman. He’ll most likely follow up when the Live ends or when they get home in the evening. 

He’s never been the best with letting things lie.

Not when it comes to his kids. 

“What about this one,” Lina starts, reading off the question aimed towards her parents. “What’s it like having so many kids with such different ages?”

Solana looks at Roman, partially wondering if he wants to tackle a chunk of this one while also speaking aloud. “I don’t know if I agree that you all have such different ages.”

“Yeah, the gaps aren't excessively wide,” Roman nods, somewhat surprising his wife and kids at his willingness to answer. "And, it’s always a lot in some way, but we make it work.” 

“I think what also helps is how the kids naturally group up,” Solana adds, gesturing to her eldest set. “These three have always been close, but also, even with that, there's still our baby child who’s so much younger than the rest of the kids, so it can be a little difficult with her sometimes.”

Solana shifts on the seat, speaking more directly to the viewers, her discomfort waning by the minute. 

“I have to remind my older kids sometimes, even Roman if he’s not very happy about her having more than one playdate a week, Lina, Leya, and Tama all have each other. Our twin boys are two peas in a pod, best friends. Our middle daughter bounces back and forth between them and the OG’s. But, our baby child doesn’t have that.” She shakes her head, continuing to clarify. “She doesn’t really have a sibling that she has that best friend type bond with because she’s so much younger than everyone else, so yes, there are definitely times I’m sure they’d love for her to leave them alone, but we can’t have her friends at our house all the time, so there are occasions where somebody has to play with her.” The smallest smile and little shrug. “My husband and I do what we can, but it’s not uncommon for her to want to play with her brothers and sisters.”

“Us. Not our little brothers,” Tama points out, earning a small groan from Lina.

“No, life is so much easier when our parents don’t try to force them to interact.”

Leya pouts, lightly protesting. “Mommy and daddy don’t force them.”

Wait, what’s the story there? 🥲

Random, but Solana calling ya’ll little sister the baby child is so cute. 🥹

How old is the youngest?

@/user 6, I think.  

God forgive me, but I been focused this whole Live on how damn fine ya’ll mama and daddy is. LAWD. ��

I know it’s big, too. I just know it.

YA’LL PLEASE. 😭😭😭

Lol is there a story there?

Tama chuckles, catching the last comment. “The Littles—that’s what we call our youngest three siblings—have never gotten along. They’re always going at it.”

Solana nods, unable to disagree. 

“We talk about this a lot, actually.” She motions to Roman who shakes his head, clearly recalling one of several shouting matches between his youngest set of kids. “We don’t know what happened, because these three have always been so close. Always.” She sighs. “Our youngest three, though? I feel like they’ve been at odds since they were old enough to talk.”

“Because they were,” Roman grunts, running a hand over his face. “I think it’s their different personalities as well as the age difference.”

Leya frowns, offering agreement. “The Littles go at it a lot, sadly.”

“Definitely what dad said. Our baby sister is rainbows and sunshine, but our little brothers are just like our dad. Mean as hell.”

“Tamasa.”

“Sorry, mama.”

“But, they can be mean sometimes, mommy,” Lina moans, shrugging. “So can daddy, and we still love him.” She sucks her teeth, glancing at the time in the corner of her phone, knowing it’s only a matter of time before Samaria or Aroha wake up. “Okay, let’s do a few more.”

And, they do, a mixture of questions for Roman and Solana, Leya, the family as a whole, even requests for videos down the road. 

Roman wasn’t with that last part.

“How do you guys manage such good parenting?” Tama reads the question, no trace of humor in voice, as he honestly and vulnerably shares, “I’d say best instead of good.”

Solana smiles warmly. “Thank you, baby.” She takes a breath, looking once again at Roman. “I can take this one?” He nods, hand on the small of her back, rubbing small circles. “Umm…we just really do our best to keep an open door, non-judgmental policy with all of our kids. We’ve always strived to make sure they know there’s nothing they can’t talk to us about. Nothing at all.” Something felt and shared by every Reigns' kid, from the youngest to the oldest. “But, mostly, Roman and I agreed, back when I was still pregnant with Lina and Leya, that we weren’t going to be like our parents.” She motions to herself with one hand and her husband with the other. “I won’t speak for him, but I had a very.…traumatic childhood, with a lot of abuse, so I essentially worked to give them everything that I didn’t get, and I’d like to think it’s worked so far.”

“It has, mommy,” Leya murmurs, offering a warm smile. “It really has.”

“You guys really are the best.” A sentiment shared by Tama as well who nods in agreement. 

“Thanks, ya’ll,” Roman’s deep voice sounds. Appreciative. Content. Moved. 

Awwww. You can see how much the kids love their parents. 

It’s obvious RoSo have the best parenting style, cause look how great and close they all are.

Noooo, who was hurting on our mom, guys? 😭

More parents should utilize similar approaches. Listening to your kids is so important.

Wish they were my parents…. 

Tama clears his throat. “Alright, enough of all the sentiment stuff.” Roman chuckles, as the women shake their heads. “Now for the final and most important question.” A dramatic pause that makes sense for the dramatic teen. “Who are your favorites of all the kids?”

A shared eye roll between mother and father, Roman announcing, “yeah, we’re done with this shit.”

“We gotta give the people what they want!”

“I don’t give a fuck about the people.”

“Daddy,” Leya lightly scolds, Lina with a small, knowing smile on her face. 

The eldest looks towards the viewers. “And, this is why we don’t do this sort of thing more often.” 

That man really don’t be giving a fuck lmaooo

Ya’ll omg Roman really is a real life Squidward. 🥴

He’s such a damn mood.

Nooo, we gotta do it again soon. These Lives are always so much fun!

“Your sisters will probably be up soon anyway, guys,” Solana reminds, and she’s not wrong. It’s about time not only for the boys to be pulled from their self-imposed isolation, their sisters to arise from their slumber, but Solana to get started on dinner as well. And, she’ll most likely need some sort of help, even if she won’t ask for it. 

It’s only when she stands up and stretches, readying to leave, Roman standing with her, his hands moving down to grasp and squeeze her ass, Solana giggling and playfully slapping his chest that the comments take yet another turn. 

Goddamn! Ya’ll mama got some ass on her!!!! 👀👀👀👀

@/user some? She got ALL the ass. 🤯

To say she’s had seven kids, that body is TEA.

Someone said it on the last Live, but it must be jam, cause jelly don’t shake like that. 😩

Alexa, play “Thick” by 2 Chainz. 🍑

Not to be that person, but does anyone know how she got those scars? We obviously see the one on her face, but I had no idea they were all over her body as well….

@/user to my knowledge, they’ve never commented on it, but given she just mentioned abuse during her childhood, my guess would be from that 🥺

Roman and Solana engage in brief, quiet conversation, the Tribal Chief nodding as he lowers his sunglasses and nods, stepping aside so Solana can walk past him. She looks back once more, waving and offering a cheerful, “bye” to the viewers only to be cut off by her husband slapping her ass. “Roman!”

He says nothing, nor does he offer any sort of parting term, instead walking behind his wife as they head towards the staircase, clearly aiming to go check on the other kids.

Stopppp. That lil interaction between them. 🥹

He might be a dick, but it’s plain as day that man love the hell out of his wife. 🤷🏽‍♀️

That height difference omggg. Either she’s super little, or he’s big asf.

@/user both. Been in the same room as both. She’s short asf, and he’s even bigger in person.

Wait, cause he even walks like it’s heavy. 😶

@/user that’s cause it is. 

But, checking on the kids only provides the same situation Roman left them in, Aria and Roro still knocked out and the boys gaming. Nothing new to see. However, instead of rejoining the teens, or even leading her to the kitchen to get started on dinner, Roman takes her hand, guiding her to their cabin.

A small smile sets on her face. 

Solana knows as soon as he shuts, and locks, the door exactly what he wants. 

The smallest smile on her face, taking in his big frame as he moves towards her. “The kids—”

“Littles are occupied,” is his easy counter. Standing in front of her, his hand lifts, finger trailing down the exposed skin of her shoulder. “So are the big ones.”

She makes a sound. “You sure?”

He, too, makes a sound, accompanied by him stepping closer, vanishing that distance between them. Roman’s hands move behind her, landing on her ass. “Very.”

Her palms rest on his chest, fingers crumpling the material of his black shirt. “So, what should we do?”

A deep chuckle as he squeezes her ass, Solana hissing in response. He smirks. “I think you know exactly what we should do.”

Her smile widens, and she wastes no time sliding her hands up and behind his neck, pulling down, smashing her lips onto his. Hungry, needy, desperate almost, kissing is always an art, a song and dance of sorts. Lips moving with equal fervor, hands grasping and exploring, groping. A moan into his mouth makes Roman’s dick jerk in his shorts. 

Backing and guiding her against the bed, he only allows a brief respite in their passionate makeup for Solana to push his shirt up his body, forcing him to rid himself of it entirely. Hazy, lustful eyes take in his shirtless frame, Solana’s short nails raking across his six pack. 

Roman’s jaw clenches as his wife starts to trail her lips down his chest, starting with his throat, moving downward. His eyes shut, head lolled back, only to stop when her fingers move to his waistband. He looks down, their eyes locking, his own lip darting out to wet his bottom lip.

Roman gently shakes his head, instead guiding her back up, his gaze darkening. “Need to taste you…”

Receiving is never an unpleasant time, but giving…giving is more for him than anything, and two days without any sort of sexual contact has Roman craving and borderline yearning. 

He needs her.

Solana steps back, mouth parted, eyes never leaving his. An undisturbed moment of locked eye contact, or it would be, but not for the fact that she reaches behind her back with both hands, his dick twitching once more watching the thin straps of her bikini top tumbling down, eventually falling to the floor. 

Salivation is the result of her breast, heavy, big, perfect, exposed to him. No time is wasted in Roman quickly pronouncing onto her, mouth latching onto her chocolate nipples. 

“Ro….” Solana’s moan is accompanied by her hand at the back of his neck, fingers undoing the hair tie, freeing his silky mane as he sucks on her breast. Her hand rakes through his hair, massaging his scalp the same way his free hand massages and kneads her other breast.

Roman has always been an attentive and appreciative lover, but her breasts have always seemed to sit high at the top of his adoration list. Feeling that building throbbing between her legs, she tugs his head back, her lips back on his as he hikes her up on his waist and leads them to the king size bed.

He lowers them both down at the same time, never once breaking their kiss even as his hands maneuver down her body, thick fingers peeling back the top of her bikini bottoms and dipping into that sacred space.

“Shit, baby,” he curses, fingers toying and playing with her slick. “Barely touched you…”

“It doesn’t take much,” is her sheepish reply, kissing the bridge of his nose as he teases a knuckle near her gushy, sensitive opening. “Ro…”

His gaze and voice deepen, fingers continuing to collect her arousal. Arousal that practically drips from that same finger he pulls from inside her and dips into his mouth. Her throat dries at the same time he asks, almost pained, “you gon’ let me eat it?”

Her answer is pushing his head down and inching up the bed to remove her bottoms. Roman’s smirk is hidden as he steals another opportunity to leave a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses down her warm body, hands squeezing the pudge of her stomach, path detoured only slightly as he kisses across the horizontal line of her C-Section scar. 

Solana licks her lips, reaching for the pillow behind her, her body lifted by those same strong hands as he tugs her bottoms off, ridding him of the only thing keeping him from his destination. 

And, finally, arrival. 

Solana learned a long time ago that Roman’s consistent, constant, overt willingness to go down on her is always about her pleasure, yes, but also, his as well. Countless sexual encounters marked by her literally having, or trying at least, to push him away as he continues to suck on her clit even as her body practically shakes from the intensity of her orgasm serving as all the data to support the undeniable truth. 

He’s a pleaser through and through, and even after so many years together, that hasn't changed.

“Baby…” Her head is thrusted back into the pillow, her fingers raking through his scalp, his hand placed on her stomach keeping her steady as he sucks, laps, and feasts on her like a man starved. 

And, in many ways, he most certainly is.

Solana struggles to keep her volume down, just the thought of any of her children knowing what’s happening between their parents a thing of parental nightmares. But, it’s difficult with how good he’s making her feel. How he always makes her feel.

“Roman, please—” She groans, body writhing and snaking, that same feeling bubbling and escalating. Overwhelming, tears pooling in her eyes as pulling him toward her shifts into her trying to inch away from him. A fruitless act. He only tugs her closer, the space between his mouth and her pussy nonexistent. If he’s drowning, it’s self-induced. 

Self harm. Or, self love.

Solana has to reach for one of the pillows behind her, using it as a barrier and holding space for the groan—and moan—that escapes her mouth as he evokes a soul snatching orgasm from her. The black and stars and kaleidoscope of colors is her only visible sight as she keeps that pillow over her face until she trusts herself enough to remove it. Until she’s certain her sounds of unadulterated pleasure remain within the safe confines of their probably-should-be-soundproofed-at-some-point bedroom.  

“Could never get tired of that.” Clearly. Solana lifts the pillow from her face just in time to feel his wet lips reversing his previous trail, another detour taken as he presses her big breast together, eyes lighting up like one of their children on Christmas morning. “So damn fine…”

Solana silences him by kissing him once more, moaning at the taste of herself on his full, swollen lips. She tugs his body against hers, fingers scrambling down to his waistband.

She gasps, his mouth moving from her mouth to that delicious, sensitive spot on her neck, sucking, leaving his mark, a reminder to all just who she belongs to.

Who she’ll always belong to.

His boxers are the next to go, Solana unsurprised at how he springs free with equal need. She palms him, pussy clenching at the feeling of him hot, heavy, and rock hard in her hand.

She strokes him, thumb ghosting over the tip of his thick dickhead, collecting the pre-cum already spilling over. He jerks in her palm as gentle caressing transitions into her jerking him. “Fuck, baby….”

“Exactly,” she breathes. Solana lifts her hand from him, feeling him against her inner thigh, to cup his face. Eyes locked, determined, unwavering, a simple request. “Fuck me, papi.”

It’s such a stark difference that she too struggles with processing. Just how once upon a time, so long ago, sex was a thing they constantly had to navigate together. Starting with working up to him touching her body to the constant requests for consent as they made love to doing so without the need for Solana to provide approval every step along the way. 

Over the years, their sex life has continued to evolve, grown stronger, somehow even better despite them not being as young as they used to be. And, that’s included the different type of sexual interactions. For the most part, Solana enjoys making love with her husband, missionary a position she could never tire of, that intimate, consistent eye contact as they become one. 

But, sometimes….sometimes, she doesn’t want that. Doesn’t necessarily need that. Sometimes….sometimes, she just wants to be fucked.

And, right now, that’s exactly what she wants. 

It’s something her husband doesn’t need to be told twice.

One minute he’s on top of her, the next, she’s on her hands and knees, Roman working to position her. 

His deep groan sounds from behind as he slaps her ass, Solana moaning and head lolling once more. “Look at all this ass.” Yet another moan from the feel of him jiggling her ass cheeks and dragging his massive dick up and down her slick opening. “How wet you are for me.” She gasps, the tip of him teasing her tight hole. “This all for me, pretty girl?”

“Always,” she whimpers, wiggling her ass against him. “Ro, please—”

Solana groans, fingers digging into the crumpled, wet, messy sheets underneath her as he gradually inches inside of her. “You want papi to fuck you?” 

“Yes, papi, please.” She’s not beyond begging, never will be when it comes to this. It’s too good. She spent too long being deprived of a happy, healthy sex life and to now have one with her better half means she’ll never be above anything that will keep and sustain that.

“Whatever makes my pretty girl happy.” Roman’s deep voice is tinged with desire and a hint of humor as he continues to work his big dick inside of her. “Shit,” he curses. “All these years, and you’re still so tight for me, sweetheart.”

Her response is to continue to push her ass back against him, wanting, needing all of him. It’s a stretch that will probably never go away but one she typically tends to crave when they go too long without this. Without being with him in this way. A sort of intimacy she once thought never attainable and now something that’s a regular.

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, fully sheathed inside her. “So fucking beautiful…”

Praise and affirmation. A constant. Roman is many things with her, but it's especially in the bedroom where he always prioritizes her. Makes her feel special, cherished, wanted, and loved in a way that she can’t explain. Just knows it feels amazing. 

Just like the way he’s fucking into her.

“Just like that, Roman,” she moans, face into the pillow, a loud groan falling out her mouth. “Oh my God.”

His big hands remain planted on her hips as he drives into her. “Too much, baby?” A question that doesn’t require an answer, Roman intentionally slowing his thrusts. “Naw….I know exactly what my pretty girl can take, don’t I?”

She nods, already knowing almost immediately what’s gonna come. Roman jerks her up, her back against his chest, his dick digging deeper in her, prompting her jaw to slack, her pleasure extrapolating. 

Solana looks over her shoulder, holding onto his forearms, as her husband presses kisses alongside the side of her face. “You gotta talk to me, baby. Let me hear that sweet voice while I fuck this sweet pussy.” 

“I love it,” she moans, eyes fluttering, breathing against him. “I love you.” 

Because, she does. Because her life is exactly what it is now because of him. It’s all because of him, and there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for him, no depth of love that hasn’t been scaled or explored. It’s all there, every inch of it venturedand claimed. She loves him in every possible sense of the word, and nothing could ever change that. 

Ever.

A shared sentiment as he kisses her, sloppy, wet, perfect. “I love you, too, Sol. Always.”

They’d go longer if they could. One round was something that seemed inconceivable to her husband who’s always had the highest sex drive a person could have, but with several children, many of which still needing a lot of their attention, both Roman and Solana know it unwise to risk it.

They’ve already scarred their oldest children being exposed to adult time and would rather not add to the victim tally. It’s why afterwards, Solana is in her favorite non-sexually intimate position, her naked body sprawled across her husband’s, his hand moving up and down her back, soothing and comforting. 

His fingers occasionally brush atop the bottom of her lotus tattoo inked at the top of her back.. She still remembers the day she got it, the emotions that accompanied, before, after, and during. She also remembers the ambivalence experienced by her husband. Such a specific and impactful thing. His difficulty in fucking her from behind, a position they worked so hard to achieve, and seeing that tattoo. For her, a reminder of her perseverance. For him, a reminder of her violation.

It took time, but like most of the challenges they’ve encountered over many years of being together, it was something they worked through.

At this point in her life, Solana isn’t sure there’s not much they can’t work through. 

“You okay?” His deep voice breaks her from her thoughts. Solana lifts her head, continuing to trace the outlines of his tattooed chest. 

“Yeah,” she answers, kissing his pectoral muscle. “I’m good.” 

Better than that. Life has continued, for the most part, to be on the upward path for her, and it all started with the man underneath her. Her marriage to him ended up being the best thing ever for the both of them, opening the door and carving the path to the life they have and the beautiful family they’ve created. 

Family…

Solana would never tell him. She knows her dramatic ass husband would go onto a whole long rant, pacing across the floor, hand on his hip, demanding her to take a test to relieve him of his nerves. 

But, sometimes, especially near the end of the act, when he’s finishing inside her, as he always does, she thinks about it. Wonders. Imagines what it would be like if maybe, just maybe, they had another baby.

If Aroha had a sibling “closer” in age to her, a thought that’s almost immediately shot down by a variety of strong, logical reasons. The main being that that would only create yet another situation of their baby child having an age gap with the other siblings. Another baby would mean at least a seven year age difference between Aroha and her younger sibling. The smallest distance in ages compared to the other children.

Not to mention the selfishness that comes with that thought. Solana and Roman aren’t as young as they used to be. Far from it. Welcoming another baby in their forties and fifties just feels selfish, especially considering Roman’s borderline midlife crisis and that situation last year. It would be wrong to do that to him. 

Then there’s lunacy that is having another another child when they already have seven.

Seven.

But ultimately, the fact that almost seven years have passed without a pregnancy, Solana spending almost her entire thirties being pregnant and having the bulk of her children is confirmation enough that even if she did want to actually try for one last baby, her biological clock won’t allow it.

That time has come and passed.

Hence why it just remains a thought, a fleeting, maybe even silly little thought.

“Baby….” Pulled from her thoughts once more, she frowns seeing his partial scowl, the crinkle near his eyes, all telltales for when he’s deep in thought. “What were you going to say earl—”

“Move out my way big back!”

“Better than having them big ass ears like daddy!”

And just like that, the mood is entirely shifted with the sound of Aria and Lina from outside the safe confines of their bedroom. A small, amused smile on Solana’s face as Roman throws his head back against the pillow and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Every single time.”

Leya’s shocked, disapproving gasp. “Sissy!”

Tama trying to play peacemaker, de-escalating what is a rarity. For the most part, Samaria gets along fine with her sisters, but when issues do arise, they’re typically between herself and Catalina. Mostly over Aria wanting to borrow Lina’s, well, anything. Solana would bet any money that’s what started the bickering. Aria asked to use something, and Lina said no. “Aye, ya’ll stop talking to each other like that, alright?”

Aroha’s sweet voice, partially muffled, most likely because she’s being held by Leya, face buried in her shoulder as she holds onto her big sister, still partially sleepy. “You’re gonna wake up mommy and daddy.”

Kai scoffs. “Like they’re sleep.”

“What else would they be doing?” Aria’s innocent question is met with silence followed by a set of mortified sounds.

Koa scoffs, audibly disgusted. “That’s so gross!”

Kai expresses agreement, her baby boy probably scowling, looking just like his daddy. “Aren’t there enough of us already?”

It’s almost comical to Solana how she can so clearly visualize the entire humorous scene without even seeing it unfold. Also, ironic words coming from her theatrical daughter. “You guys are so dramatic. Mommy and daddy are too old to have any more children.”

“But, not too old to fuck apparently—”

“Tamasa!” The sound of grunting, most likely from Lina punching him on his arm. 

And, then the worst thing ever, sweet Aroha asking with unalloyed innocence. “What does ‘fuck’ mean?”

At that, Roman snaps, breaking his silence, loud voice projecting past the barrier of the locked door. “Didn’t I tell ya’ll to stop cussing in front of your damn sister?” Solana presses her face into his chest, hiding her smile. An ironic statement.

A grumbled apology followed by snickering from her other kids.

“We’ll be out in a couple minutes, okay?” Solana also breaks her silence, offering what she knows is what has brought all of their children to their room. “And, yes, I’ll get started on dinner.”

Grumbling instantly shifts into sounds of relief and excitement, making her giggle.

Her kids are a hoot. 

But, she wouldn't have it any other way. She wouldn't have any of it any other way.

As the children start to disperse, the sound of Tama murmuring, most likely to Lina and Leya. “I thought sex drives were typically low in old people.”

"Tama!"

[gaming-thoughts-by-an-idiot]

Fable 2, once more!

"Today I found out there's two ways you can get flies around you... by having sex without a condom aka u get STDs, AND if you're corrupt... which I am currently cuz im making everyone give me 100% in rent"

"Holy shit, I soon got 10k! I went from like 5k... wait, does it keep going when the xbox is off? That's not possible... right? I gotta google"

"Yes... yes I do"

"OH MY GOD. FUCK. IM ON THE LOWEST, IM ALL THE WAY CORRUPT OMG"

"After 10 hours of napping, I got 20k almost 30k muhahaha"

"Alright, I need a husband"

"Are all the monks bisexual?"

"Cmere baby"

Rob: its not a bad house

Me: it cost 10k its perfect stfu

"HOW DO WE HAVE SEX WHAT"

"Okay apparently the house made me evil... gotta evict some people"

"Wow, my husband just said HE doesn't care bout my looks, but his friends make fun of him... I bet his friends also wanna bone me"

"Purification? This is the house for us"

"Alright, I'm a mom now"

"God, I feel so bad for Theresa... this isnt the last time she's gonna read those cards"

"Game made my daughter have the name Becky, and it makes me think of spy x family, so I like it"

"Yeees...yes... love me, child"

"Oh crap, I threw up on my child"

"Juuust gonna sleep a lot so people think I'm pure"

"Oh my god, there's so many people who love me"

"AH"

Rob: I hope our love lasts longer than my parents

Me: WHAT

"Speechless"

"Damn, monks are horny"

"Fiiine we can have sex"

Extra salted peanuts: two peanuts were walking down the street, and then they were assaulted. They deserved it

Me: WHY WHAT DID THEY DO???

"Sooo, apparently if you buy lots of houses, log out of xbox live, set your date to several years and then start the game, I can get a lot of money? Let's do it"

"Okay idk how to sign out of live, so let's skip that"

"I managed to get off live"

"... okay I can't set date"

"Nevermind I set the date"

"Let's see if this works also this hack is so sad cuz it was posted 15 years ago, aka 2008, and they were like 'the highest u can set the time to is 2024' like ow, that's now"

"I'm so excited"

"It didnt work :("

"IT WORKED IT WORKED YO IT FUCKING WORKED I HAD 7K AND NOW I HAVE 59425 OMFG"

"It says I'm in Feb, so I'll do Jan 2025, idk if I have to but I'll turn on and off xbox"

"wait... am I stupid? Oh god I am... I should do Dec"

"51k wow... I now have 111225 coins, just amazing"

"Now I'm setting the time back cuz it's gonna stress me"

"Alrighty, behold me, buying all the houses hehe"

Me: I have a lot of money!

The villages: so that means you're gonna lower the rents right?

Me: :)

The villages: ... right?

"I just need to buy all the houses and before, ya know I leave, I'll put them down to like less than 50%"

"Wow... I don't have enough money to do buy the pub... I thought I had like a lot of money now aww"

"I set my title to 'dog lover' and idk if I uh like it"

[annieintheaair]

Wherever you are, I hope that you'll find me. Whenever it is, I hope we're meant to be. Oh, we've been searching for something so perfect. Just hold on, I know that you'll find me.

This past week at work has been really challenging, but I am so thankful for my amazing coworkers who make even the worst days not so bad.

Thursday morning I had to drop off my car at Volvo after work. Even though they typically don't do loaners for the 10k service, they let me have one so I could go home. I was so tired, as usual, and just wanted to sleep.

At home, I changed into yoga clothes, thinking I'd go to Fort Worth for my class but then decided I was too tired to go anywhere. Instead, I allowed myself to rest for the morning and then ran to Trader Joe's to get some groceries since I hadn't had food in my house in literally weeks. Unfortunately, it wasn't the most productive trip since I mainly bought dog treats and wine. I've been following this sommelier on Instagram and she does some really cool wine and Trader Joe's pairings. I tried to find one wine I liked before but TJ's was out of stock and another she suggested, they had the brand but not the same type. It was a pretty disappointing visit to TJ's.

I had a pretty lazy afternoon and then had to leave early for work to pick up my car before the dealership closed at 7pm. Since I didn't want to drive all the way home, I found a yoga class to go to near the airport. It was a yin class, which was super relaxing and the perfect way to start my evening. I was feeling pretty zen after that.

The yoga place was in a really cool area that I had never ventured out to before. Not only do I want to go to that yoga class again but I went online to look at apartments to see if maybe I'd like to move there instead of going back to my old town. Maybe something new and closer to the airport would be better for me?

That night I worked a trip to OKC, which was delayed until 12:30am on Friday morning. It was yet another long night with little sleep. I had a good crew, which made it a little better, but of course, still meant that Friday I would be exhausted.

Friday morning I napped before heading to yoga at noon. I will really miss Stephanie's class when I move. It is one of the only things that has helped me through this past year here. I had a relatively lazy afternoon and crawled into bed around 6pm to sleep until about 8pm so I'd be well rested.

Friday night was yet another delay. It has been the trend lately. Spring flying in DFW is always a nightmare. I did have a great crew though, which helped.

Saturday I was committed to yoga so I napped for maybe an hour before going to slow flow at 10:30am. I made a detour to Popshelf to get a few things and then picked up a Rebel from Dutch Bro's since I desperately needed it.

On my way home, I ended up grabbing a poké bowl for lunch since they were giving 20% off for Mother's Day.

I napped on my couch in the afternoon and had high hopes of going out and doing something until the weather started to get crappy and I chose to stay home and drink wine on my couch instead.

I ended up staying up late last night since I can never go to sleep early after working nights nearly every day. The storms were crazy all night. The thunder was so loud that my house literally shook. I read on Facebook that a house in the neighborhood behind mine got struck by lightning and I heard a ton of horns honking this morning and then lots of fire trucks and ambulances so it sounded like there was a car accident nearby.

I really wanted to go to church in Fort Worth this morning but the flooding was so bad that I decided to stay home and sleep in. Kirby woke me up early to go outside but I went back to bed right away. I didn't sleep well all night since I was having some seriously bad nightmares about my ex and his family.

I had every intention of calling out sick from work today but instead, my flight was canceled. No one called me all day to tell me until about an hour before sign in when my phone rang. I ignored it and they didn't leave a voicemail. I think they were trying to get me to work something else out of desperation but I was already sipping on an espresso martini so I was in for the night.

I started watching a new show called Expats tonight. I was enjoying it until one of the main characters jumped off of a boat and decided to swim under the boat and got stuck for a hot minute. My anxiety was so bad that I had to get up off my couch and walk away. I felt like I couldn't breathe. Between losing my car in the flood last year and losing Dan when he drowned in 2022, I've never been more afraid of water. That scene is what made me decide to make an espresso martini.

My friend Jackie sent me a video when she drove by the neighborhood I want to move to. It sucks that the move-ins have been delayed but it's looking really cute and I'm praying that works out if it's what's meant to be.

Tomorrow night I jump back into another busy week at work. Working a ton each week hasn't been that bad, aside from the delays. Once I see my paychecks after this, I might become addicted to working a ton. Add in a raise and some retro pay and maybe I'll actually be able to get my life back on track.

xoxo

Annie

[ask-thedawnseekers]

“i’m going to wrap you in blankets and fight anybody who tries to touch you.”

// @forgottnseccnd

(Solana problem needs one of them 10k naps anyways. )

"That would be wonderful, I think. It's been a while since I could rest properly." She downed the rest of her coffee and sighed.

"If only I had the time, there's so many things to do today."

But the sound of a nap was almost enough to make her want to put her work aside and crawl into bed for the next year.

[themculibrary]

Bruce/Sam Masterlist

It's Too Cold For This (ao3) - Shadowstar T, 2k

Summary: After an explosion at an AIM facility scatters the Avengers, Sam and Hulk have to find somewhere to regroup for the night.

Kids Will Be Kids (ao3) - GoringWriting N/R, 64k

Summary: The Avengers have been invited to Asgard to a feast in their honor. Too bad they don't know a feast on Asgard lasts for several days. Days that Loki spends vanishing to places unknown. Will the avengers care enough to find out where their unwanted member is or will Loki manage to keep his kids a secret from them.

Layin' Down the Pipe (ao3) - Symone_Nicole E, 10k

Summary: Natasha always thought Sam Wilson looked familiar when she first met him, but she couldn't place it. Until one day she figured it out and she decided to share with everyone to relieve the awkward tensions. What's the worst that can happen?

Lazy Morning (ao3) - Shadowstar T, 668

Summary: Sam enjoys a quiet moment after waking with his husband.

Of Gift Giving and Nap Taking (ao3) - Shadowstar T, 1k

Summary: Sam has questions, but the conversation goes differently than he expected.

Pining Is Good For The Heart (Shut up Natasha it is) (ao3) - MyNameIsSam T, 5k

Summary: Clint has a habit of marathoning shows after battles. During his after-battle marathon he finds out something no one on the team knows about Tony.

Or

Where Tony really isn’t keeping a secret, he can’t say no to Clint, and there is a sad lack of explosions.

Renewal (ao3) - AshSPN E, 1k

Summary: Bruce and Sam have been married for over 8 years now. The kids are off at the Tower and they decide they need some time to renew their marriage.

Start. Stop. Start again. (ao3) - himboplantdad T, 2k

Summary: Congratulations to my favorite Sam Wilson and Bruce Banner variants on their wedding. Every day I adore you both, and every day I find more ways to do so. This is from Tico to you, and writing it was an absolute pleasure <3

Who Are You Sam Wilson? (ao3) - Jeniouis M, 8k (WIP)

Summary: There was something about this omega that caught his eye, that captured his heart.

Bruce is left wondering just who this omega was.

You and Me Could Have a Whole Lot of History (ao3) - lovelyirony T, 1k

Summary: They get a new history professor. Bruce has a crush and also thinks that college professors have no right looking as good as Dr. Wilson does.

[1800dojaejung]

Familiar Hauntings | KNJ

⤷ Summary: You and Namjoon have worked hard to become expert paranormal investigators. You’ve successfully investigated and exorcised a number of demons and ghosts all over the world and your followers believe in you enough to keep you confident and going. That’s why when you get a call about a family with a teenage daughter experiencing traumatizing hauntings, you and your team don’t think twice about going to help.

It isn’t until you get there do you realize that you may be in over your heads when you come face to face with a familiar evil. It’s going to take more effort than you thought you’d need to get rid of this sinister force before it destroys an innocent family, and even you.

⤷ Pairing: Demonologist!Namjoon x Clairvoyant F!reader

⤷ Film/Franchise: The Conjuring

⤷ Genre/AU: Thriller, horror-ish, angst, established relationship au, supernatural au

⤷ Rating: PG15

⤷ Warnings: Demons and ghosts, violence, possessions, profanity, mention of blood, mentions of death (nothing too graphic though!)

⤷ Words: 10k

⤷ Note: Written for the Bangtan Cinema: Horror Night collab!! Thank you a million times to @the-boy-meets-evil​ for betaing this in only a few hours! You’re literally the best ❤️ And thank you to @rkivian​ for this bomb ass banner!! I asked for something spooky with Joon in glasses and Kiri delivered!! 😍

Horror is my favorite movie genre, but I quickly found out how hard it is to write 🥴 It’s a whole different set of skills that I don’t think I have down very well, but it was fun to try - especially to pay homage to my favorite horror series!

I’m trying really hard to finish up my remaining collab fics for the year because I have more writing plans for 2023 so please bear with me y’all!! 🖤

“Ugh, that flight was so much more cramped than I remember,” Namjoon complains, rubbing his sore neck.

“Do we have enough time to grab something to eat before the hotel?” Mingyu questions.

“We have just enough time for a drive-through stop before dropping our stuff at the hotel and heading to the assignment.” Your assistant Jeongyeon reads off of her phone. “The Jacksons live fifteen minutes away so the ride won’t be too long.”

“Hey, everyone, we just landed here in the U.S. Say hi to everyone!” Jungkook, bringing up the rear of your group, catches up to walk in front of the four of you, panning the camera around. You wave, giving the camera a tired smile.

“Jeongyeon, can you tell us about the family we’ll be helping today?” When you’re all in your taxi, Jungkook turns the camera towards the woman as she’s triple checking the address for the hotel.

“The Jacksons, a family of five from New York,” she begins, barely missing a beat. “Their teenage daughter Siobhan has been experiencing what they believe to be a haunting for the past three months. She’s claiming to hear and see things that none of the family saw until a month ago. They experienced the usual: things moving when no one touched them, doors slamming, even voices in the house that aren’t any of the family members.” Jeongyeon pauses swiping the page on her tablet before continuing.

“The last month has been the most troubling. She’s been waking up with bruises and small cuts all over her body. She’s also been sleeping for days straight and the family can’t wake her up. It’s at random sometimes when she’s napping or sleeping. It’s to the point where she tries to stay up as long as she can which she can barely do anymore.”

“Do you think this thing is trying to take her body or something?” Mingyu asks you and Namjoon.

Namjoon shrugs. “It’s likely. Just hearing the story on the surface, it’s definitely something trying to possess her or take her soul. The question really is just what it is and what exactly it wants.”

“They have two other kids too - a nineteen-year-old son and a seven-year-old daughter, so they’re even more nervous that this entity will attach to them too.” When Jeongyeon reminds you of that, your nerves spike. You’ve had to help other families with multiple kids and a demon can try and possess multiple people at once. It makes this situation go from a normal emergency to an even more dire one.

Jungkook continues to prattle on to your audience about New York while you take the time to yourself to mentally prepare not only for your job but also to be mindful of the camera and your virtual audience as well.

At times, you can’t believe the way that so many people on the internet tune into your videos to watch you and Namjoon use your gifts to save people’s lives. You didn’t start online, showing people that you have the power to communicate with demons and ghosts and Namjoon didn’t become an exorcist and demonologist to be famous.

The gift of clairvoyance came to you as young as five. Sightings of ghosts started to be as normal as seeing alive people. It took a while for you to realize that everyone around you wasn’t like you - your family and friends couldn’t speak to the old woman that lived in your living room in your childhood home. No one else could hear the little girl crying in the back of your school bus in third grade; no one except you.

For years your parents were concerned for you and your sanity and you couldn’t say you blame them. Your mom stuck by you though and even today, while she doesn’t know how you even acquired this gift, she supports you. Your father, on the other hand, died a nonbeliever when you entered middle school and even though you still wish he was here today to see what you’ve done with this “disturbing part of you” as he called it, you’re surrounded by nothing but support now.

It did take years admittedly, for you to find anyone who supported you as much as Namjoon though. When you moved to Korea for college, he caught your eye immediately. Something about him was different than anyone you’ve ever met and he felt the same. It didn’t take long for you to share this part of yourself that was private. Even though you’d lost countless friends and partners because of it, Namjoon didn’t even bat an eye when you told him there was a spirit in the stairwell of his dorm building.

“I knew there was something!” He had practically yelled, nearly getting you kicked out of the library. He didn’t have the same gift as you but he could always feel the presence of things no one can see. It’s what made him obsessed with the supernatural and the afterlife, wanting to know more about the things he sensed.

It was when you were close to graduation and you’d been inseparable since your first year that he broached the idea of becoming paranormal investigators and learning how to do exorcisms. You’d never thought about it, but it made sense. Both of you felt as though you can be doing more with what you know about demons and ghosts and so you agreed.

Things fell into place after that. You learned how to do exorcisms from a friend of your mother’s in the church. Neither you nor Namjoon are religious people, so you took what you learned from there and spent another year tweaking it to fit more into what you both believe in. You still remember being laughed at by a former friend who also believed in the supernatural for wanting to do exorcisms with crystals and spells instead of the bible, but it’s what felt right to you.

You felt even more secure in that decision when you and Namjoon performed your first exorcism. A friend from your office job at the time was complaining about her cousin’s son who was acting so differently.

“Different how?” You’d asked and she explained that he’d often sleep a lot all day, have extreme mood swings, and would even talk and engage with empty rooms. He was being written off as puberty and maybe schizophrenia, but something in you disagreed.

To your surprise, the mother agreed to let you and Namjoon visit her son and see how he was doing. She was so desperate on the phone when you got her number from your co-worker. She babbled about how she felt insane at even contemplating something like possession but every doctor she’d taken him to said all of his tests were fine and there was nothing they could do.

That’s how you and Namjoon discovered a low-level demon was possessing the boy. It took you two days to gather the necessary spells and crystals to banish the demon, but with shaking hands and nervousness you still can’t quite describe, you banished the demon within the child. The sheer relief in the little boy’s eyes is still one that you can never get out of your head. He cried, his mother cried, and you cried because holy shit you just exorcised a demon out of a kid.

Namjoon retold your experiences on his blog and on a demonology Reddit forum he frequented and miraculously, someone in Busan found his post and truly believed him, messaging him, begging for his help.

That was your second exorcism. Then there was a couple in Gangnam. Then a family in Daegu. Then came the emails from Japan, and Europe and then in just three years, you and Namjoon were getting inquiries from all over the world. His blog had turned into both that and your website where people could reach out and ask for you to help their spouses, their parents, their children, and anyone that they care about that was being haunted somehow.

The two of you were busier than you could keep up with and you knew you needed more help and more equipment to be able to detect entities more effectively. That alone took another six months of research and interviews to gather a team of people you trusted and could help.

Jeongyeon was first. She was formerly an assistant to other celebrities and idols but left due to the high-maintenance attitudes. She says she loves working for you and Namjoon more than anyone else because you were just normal people who just so happened to have a following and liked helping people. You know that you’re not supposed to be overtly friendly with people who work with you, but Jeongyeon is admittedly your best friend and keeps you in line when you get too emotional or forgetful.

Jungkook and Mingyu were next. They were best friends and were fascinated by demons and what you and Namjoon do, in addition to being fans. When they saw Namjoon’s post about looking for a team to put together, they wasted no time in messaging him to meet. You only needed one additional person to help work the camera and the equipment you could finally afford to buy, but the of them were a package deal and were passionate about one day doing what you do, so you brought them on.

The five of you have been a team for the last year and you and Namjoon quickly found that you now couldn’t be nearly as successful and efficient without them.

With your bags safely in your hotel and the group fed and sufficiently briefed on the family, you pull up to the house. The suburban neighborhood is quiet and the house in front of you is a brick two-story home. The front yard is normal, with a tree in the front and the lawn decently manicured. There’s a small garden and two cars parked in the driveway.

From the outside, the house is completely normal and no one driving by would ever suspect there’s a dark, evil cloud hanging heavily over it that you can feel as soon as you start up the walkway.

Namjoon rings the doorbell and takes your hand, already feeling how uneasy you are.

The door opens only seconds later, a couple looking expectantly at your group. “Mr. and Mrs. Jackson?” The woman nods hesitantly and you give them a smile that you hope is reassuring.

“Thank you so much for coming, please come in,” the husband says, the couple stepping aside and ushering you all into the house. The atmosphere of the home is so cold and frail compared to how warmly decorated it is with knick-knacks and family photos everywhere. Your eyes take in one particular photo showing the family of five standing in front of Cinderella’s castle at Disney, their smiles wide and jubilant.

A stark contrast to the solemn looks you were greeted with.

“Where are your children?” You ask, turning back to the parents.

“Oh, Siobhan’s upstairs. Our son and other daughter are at my mom’s while we, uh… do this.” Mrs. Jackson wrings her hands as she speaks, glancing back at her husband.

“That’s good. These things tend to work best when there are fewer people involved.” The couple shares a look at Namjoon’s words before ushering all of you into the living room. This space is also decorated with mementos and feels just as rigid.

“So, uh, how exactly will this work?” Mr. Jackson asks, glancing at you and the rest of your team.

“Well, Namjoon, Jeongyeon, and I will talk to Siobhan and get to know a little more about what’s going on. We have the information you gave us of course, but talking to her may give us a better idea as to what we’re dealing with. Jungkook and Mingyu will use some of our equipment around the house and see if they can pick up anything that may be roaming around.” You point to the two men that wave as they unpack some of their gear.

Mrs. Jackson gives everyone a watery smile before zooming in on you. “Rich and I have done a lot of research on you guys. You’ve helped a lot of people over the years and you seem to always know how to get rid of whatever is…haunting people.”

“That’s right. We do our best.”

“We were still skeptical, but we want to trust you. No one else has been able to help. We went to every church in the county and damn near the state before emailing you. They all either didn’t believe us or couldn’t do anything at all. We just want our daughter to be safe.” Her voice cracks at the end of her words and her husband pulls her into a hug.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jackson -”

“Please, call us Rich and Mona.”

Namjoon nods. “Rich and Mona, I promise you we’re going to do everything we can. We’ve had a few occasions where we’ve been up against some forces that we needed to call in reinforcements for, but we would never leave a client without help. You can count on us.”

You and the team then spread out to jump into your work. Mona leads you up to Siobhan’s room and stays in the hall as you knock.

“Come in,” The voice is quiet but you still hear it.

Siobhan Jackson is seventeen years old but looks much younger in person. She’s hunched over at her desk chair, a large sweatshirt draped on her with her laptop illuminating her tired expression as she stares blankly at it. Her curls are in a bun, tendrils of hair hanging around her face.

She looks up and meets your expression, brown eyes full of exhaustion and something else sad that you can’t quite place, but you know it’s a form of sadness. The room is stifling, something in the air filling your lungs as soon as you inhale. You don’t know what it is, but you know it’s there and you know it’s not good.

“Hi, Siobhan. I’m Y/n. This is my husband Namjoon.”

“Hi.” Her voice is soft and her tone is low.

“I suppose you know why we’re here.” She nods. “Would you mind if we asked you some questions? We’ve heard from your parents, but I’d like to hear from you.”

She nods and waves you the three of you on. You and Namjoon sit on the long ottoman at the end of her bed while Jeongyeon takes her vanity chair, tablet at the ready. Siobhan’s laptop is open to YouTube, but it’s just sitting on the homepage.

“Um, well, when we moved here, I knew something was weird in the house, especially my room. Everyone said it was just because I was homesick but I knew I was right. He popped up when I turned seventeen and was nice to me at first. It sounds weird, I know, but he was someone I could talk to since I don’t have too many friends at school.

I thought he just was lonely too and wanted someone to be friends or whatever with, but then my eighteenth birthday happened and he got mean. He’d tell me how my family doesn’t love me and how no one at school likes me and how there was nothing left for me here and why should I stick around.” Her voice cracks at these words, making you frown. The memories of a similar experience with a demon when you were her age crop up, but you will it away. You need to concentrate on Siobhan.

“Did he make any offers or propositions to you?”

“Yeah, he um, he wants me to go with him. I don’t know where, but like, he wants me to be his bride.” She says it with disgust, which is relieving. You’ve run into more people than you’d like that considered being possessed willingly or who were disillusioned into believing that their entity cared for them. Siobhan doesn’t seem to be a victim in that sense so there’s still time to save her.

“Okay. And do you know anything else about him?”

She looks visibly flustered, her tan skin turning the lightest shade of red. “Oh, yeah, um, at first he was just a voice, but then he showed up in front of me. He doesn’t look like a demon or anything. He looks a lot like my favorite singer.”

Frowning you glance at Jeongyeon who has been jotting down her words on her tablet.

“And who’s that?”

“Um, Park Jimin.” Siobhan gestures around the room and you finally notice the sheer amount of posters of the K-Pop singer on her walls.

“That’s nothing to be ashamed about. Demons are sneaky and will use anything they can to make us let our guard down. Just remember it’s all a trick and he just wants to hurt you.”

“I know. I just want him to go away.” Her shoulders sag as she picks at a stray string on her sweater sleeve.

“Of course you do,” Namjoon chimes in. “And he will. Is there anything else we need to know? Anything helps so that we can do a little more research and try to find his name.”

Siobhan looks to the ceiling, thinking of anything else to add. “Um, he’s mostly in my room. Like, he can go all over the house obviously since he keeps terrorizing everyone, but he spends most of his time in here.”

“Makes sense. You’re what he wants so he’s going to stick by you. We’ll have to draw him out and also do the banishment spell in here then.”

You and Namjoon share a look and get up, ready to go see what the rest of the team found.

“Um, Mrs. Kim?” Siobhan’s timid voice squeaks up before you’re out of the room.

“Yes?”

“Do I have anything to do? Like I don’t know how this works.”

“You don’t need to do anything. We’ll be casting a banishment spell once we draw the demon out then we’ll cleanse the room and house when he’s gone to clear a lot of the dark aura that he’s cast. It isn’t that crazy. Most of the entities we banish go with a minimal fight. All you have to do is stay back and let us take care of it.” You hope your voice offers her some ease and it seems to work as she gives you the first smile you’ve seen since you entered her room.

The rest of the day is spent researching and setting up equipment. Jungkook and Mingyu have EMF meters, digital thermometers, and infrared cameras around the house and they also have a few motion-activated cameras near Siobhan’s room and scattered around elsewhere.

You and Namjoon have been flipping through your archives to get a sense of who this demon is. He’s some sort of love or lust demon, wanting to make Siobhan his bride. This narrows it down, but not nearly enough to be able to pinpoint him yet. There are far more entities that desire a human soul as a partner out there than people may realize.

The majority of demons that want a human soul or vessel will play any mind games they have the power to use to manipulate their target. It’s all textbook 101 demon behavior so far, so you have to wait to catch a glimpse of something on one of the cameras around and maybe make out the demon’s form to help figure out who it is.

“So are we doing the usual thing here when we find out who this demon is?” Mingyu plops into the kitchen chair next to you, peering over your shoulder at your laptop screen.

“Likely, yes. What the family has described sounds like a normal love-hungry entity. We have to try and draw him out in Siobhan’s room, then immediately we’ll need to start a banishment spell. Depending on who it is we can decide which crystals we may need for the ritual and then go from there.”

“Do you think we’ll need anything extra?”

“Unless this demon surprises us, I don’t think so.”

You ignore the nagging feeling in your gut that something about this job feels off and chalk it up to casual nerves, opting to proceed as usual.

Hours tick by with no movement in the house. You’ve done the most research you can and are just waiting for some signs in the house. This is the most normal part of what you do - sitting around and playing the waiting game.

When it’s nearly midnight and you’ve been in the house almost all night, you decide to call it quits and go back to the hotel until tomorrow. Sometimes the entities know when someone like you are in the house and attempt to hide their presence as long as they can, but they always make an appearance eventually.

The next morning, when you’re back in the house, you find out your hunch was correct. The various cameras you left around the house were able to pick up something walking around last night while the family slept.

“The images are hard to decipher. This is definitely not a person, but we can’t tell who or what.” Jungkook explains as he points to the shots on his screen.

The image from the motion detector camera shows a blur that’s dark, misty grey, and is tall - very tall - but you can’t make out much more. The infrared findings picked up massive cold spots moving around the house, specifically around Siobhan’s room. You stare at it, a vision clouding your mind at that moment.

It’s Siobhan, even if this is a particularly murky vision. She’s flailing around uncontrollably on the ground, looking as though she’s fighting for air. Her screams echo in your ears, loud and desperate.

“Y/n?!” Namjoon’s voice rips you from your vision as you blink, trying to clear the blur.

“What?”

“You were gasping as if you couldn’t breathe and you started yelling” He’s concerned, his eyebrows scrunching up on his forehead.

You hadn’t even realized that what was happening to Siobhan in your vision was happening to you at the same time. After retelling what you saw, you feel a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Do you think it was a warning?” Namjoon questions.

“Maybe. Clearly whatever’s in the house knows we’re here and has something to say about it.”

You mull Namjoon’s words over and realize how right he is. This entity knows more about you than you know about it at this point. It was showing you what it can do and there’s nothing you can do about it. It can take Siobhan over or harm her at any moment. Entities have infiltrated your psyche before to broadcast their twisted desires to you, but this time feels especially sinister, with unmeasurable unease washing over you.

“We don’t know his name yet but we have to try to draw him out at least. We can get him out and try to banish him with a general spell.”

Namjoon shares a skeptical look with everyone else in the room at your words. “But if we don’t know his name will it even work? You know that we need the name of the entity to for sure banish it.”

“I know, but we can’t afford to wait on when he wants to fully make himself known. He knows we’re here and isn’t happy about it so we need to at least be around him and I can probably find out myself.”

Reluctantly, everyone agrees as you start to move and prepare for the banishment. You all move fluidly, used to working together like this to prepare everything. You rifle through your bag, sifting through your crystals until you find a handful that should work.

Jungkook, Mingyu, and Jeongyeon work to set up tripods for your normal filming cameras - two in the corner pointing towards the middle of the room where Siobhan sits. Jeongyeon then makes a thick line of salt in the doorway to the bedroom and around the sills of the two locked windows.

“As soon as we draw him out, you’ll head straight for the door and shut it behind you to be safe, okay? Don’t come in here unless we tell you to.” Siobhan nods at your instructions. Given that this demon has his sights set on her, you’re having her stick around for now as you see if you can get him to so himself. I’m going to go into a meditation state so I can enter what’s called the in-between to try and see if he’s here and we just can’t see him in our world. Hopefully, he’s more likely to be spotted with you here.”

“Everyone ready?” You pose the question to the room and get collective answers of agreement.

With you in front of Siobhan, you take a deep breath and fish your aquamarine crystal out of your bag. The small blue stone has always aided in clearing your mind and letting you focus on everything in a room with you, which includes any being, whether of this world or another.

Namjoon begins reciting a summoning spell from behind you, calling the demon out into the open while you center yourself. Quickly, you fall into a standing meditation, your body feeling lighter. When you slowly open your eyes, the room around you becomes hazy as if covered in a light film. You can hear Namjoon, his voice is muffled behind you as you take in your surroundings.

At first, everything around you looks as it does normally. It’s not until your eyes land on a hand mirror on Siobhan’s desk that you see something out of the ordinary. Upon approaching it, you watch as it glows red - the telltale sign that it’s haunted.

You move to grab it, but as soon as your hand makes contact with the handle, it burns and you pull your hand back with a hiss. While holding your breath, you approach it, peering down to peek into the reflection.

All at once the sensation of ice water being poured over you hits and you reel backward. You hadn’t even noticed this familiar mirror in the room. You remember feeling the stifling feeling when you first entered the bedroom yesterday, but not once could you have guessed that this would be the source of the negativity.  

“Hey, Y/n. Long time no see.” The deep, gritty voice speaks from the mirror and it immediately has you stumbling and knocking you back from the in-between.

Your eyes pop open and you see Namjoon in front of you, looking worried.

“Siobhan, downstairs!” She scrambles up out of her chair at your words without a second thought and rushes past you. Jeongyeon holds the door open for her, then shuts it tight.

“Joon, we need to -”

The loud sound of someone clearing their throat on the other side of Siobhan’s room stops you. Everyone turns to look and sees him sitting on her desk with his legs perfectly crossed.

He looks just like the posters lining Siobhan’s wall. Same touseled dark hair, round cheeks, and soft smile but it’s not him. This demon can take the form of whatever he pleases; usually the appearance of whatever his latest victim pleases. You know this to be true because you remember this very same voice coming from the body of your teenage crush, sitting in your room when you were the same age as her. How could you have been so stupid not to put the pieces together? Sure what she’s been experiencing is typical of near possessions but you just knew the air in this house was especially foreboding and oh-so-familiar. You’d even missed the hand mirror sitting on her vanity.

“What are you doing here?” Your words are sharp and you hope they sound as vicious as they did in your head.

The demon throws his head back to laugh, and it only serves to frustrate you more. “What do you think, Y/n? I’m still looking for a bride. Would you believe after all these years, I haven’t been able to find anyone like you? But, Siobhan, well she’s different. She reminds me so much of you.” He grins at you, clearly wanting to provoke you.

Namjoon shifts behind you, his hand grabbing your arm to bring you closer.

“Y/n, do you know this demon?” You nod. You wish you didn’t. You’ve spent more than a decade pushing him out of your mind and yet here he is, as smug as he was when he haunted you in your bedroom all those years ago.

“Namjoon, get the banishing spell ready.” You hear him rustling behind you, flipping through the pages of his spellbook. “Jungkook, Mingyu, get your crystals ready - we’re going to need your help.”

“You can do whatever it is you want. You can’t get rid of me.” The demon laughs from across the room.

“I did once.”

He stands to his feet and stretches, seemingly uncaring about your words.

“Little girl, that was simply a fluke. I won’t let you cast me away again.” His red eyes bore into yours but you refuse to back down. You grip the black tourmaline crystal that always hangs around your neck, your other hand already reaching into your shoulder bag to swap out the crystals in hand.

With his spell book in hand, Namjoon sidles up next to you. Jungkook and Mingyu stand on either side of the two of you, staring back at the demon.

“This won’t take long.” You fish a flew fluorite crystals out of your bag. “Jungkook, grab your smoky quartz. Mingyu, you get your shungite. We need to get him out and keep him out.”

“What’s his name?” Namjoon asks once he’s ready.

You glare at the demon’s smug face and watch as he puts his hands in his pockets. You want to believe you can do this but his confidence is a bit jarring.

“Asmodeus.” At the sound of his name, the demon’s grin only widens, all of his sharp teeth on display now. Your husband lets out a small gasp from next to you but quickly recovers as he begins to recite the spell.

Jungkook and Mingyu join him, reciting the words after him under their breaths. Gripping your crystals, you hold them up toward the demon, repeating his name over and over again. The furniture in the room begins to wobble and an unknown wind picks up.

“Give it a rest already!” Asmodeus calls out, stumbling backward. His wings unfurl and he crouches in response, planting his feet on the carpet.

Namjoon only gets louder as do Jungkook and Mingyu. With most other demons, you and Namjoon can banish them yourselves, but you know this one. You can barely recall how you had the strength to banish him from your life at seventeen, but you’ve always accepted that you had been lucky when you did it alone after researching him, but something tells you this won’t be so easy.

“Asmodeus!” You yell sternly, rubbing the bumpy, purple-ish crystals around in your hand. The combination of the crystals along with knowing the demon’s name and the banishing spell should be enough. It should, but you can see Asmodeus is only getting seemingly more and more agitated.

He’s frowning now, eyes darting between all of you as none of you relent. The wind in the room picks up as you watch one of Siobhan’s lamps go flying across the room, whizzing in front of you.

“It’s not going to fucking work! I will be taking that girl with me!” The demon growls, eyes blazing as he flaps his wings and hovers in the air. You take a step back but continue.

Everything else happens faster than you can account for. Asmodeus crosses his arms around his body making an x-shape before uncrossing them, sending everything around the room airborne. Papers, books, and stuffed animals whirl around the room and you duck to avoid them. Jungkook grunts from your side as a shoe hits him in the leg, but he only falters for a second. When you all duck to avoid Siobhan’s nightstand smashing into the wall, Asmodeus dashes through the air across the room.

He soars over your head and you can only watch in panic as he goes careening into Jeongyeon.

“Jeongyeon!” You sprint forward, intending to grab her arm, but you’re not quick enough. You can only watch in horror as the demon crashes through the door, sending Jeongyeon flying with it as both the tattered wood and her tumble through the air and backward toward the top of the stairs. She lands back first on the door and it slides down, tumbling to the first floor.

The four of you scramble out of the room and down the stairs to her side.

“Jeongyeon?! Jeongyeon can you hear me?!” You lean down to listen to her breathe. “She’s still breathing. Someone call an ambulance!”

Mingyu quickly grabs his phone, dialing 911 next to you. Namjoon is across from you and surveys the room, the demon is nowhere to be found. The Jacksons are huddled in the entryway to the living room while Jungkook talks with them, assumedly doing damage control. An occasional cut or scrape or even getting shoved by an entity is one thing, but tumbling down a flight of stairs is another.

“Y/n the doctor says she’ll be fine. She’s just bruised and her arm is sprained. She said she was lucky the door broke her fall. It could’ve been really bad if she’d gone down with nothing behind her.”

“Fuck, Joon I know, I just feel terrible. I should’ve known that we’d need help. He was so smug and confident - why didn’t I know that he was stronger?!”

You’re pacing outside of Jeongyeon’s hospital room. She suffered a concussion on top of the sprain, but she’ll bounce back. You glance in through the door that’s been left ajar as she talks to the doctor inside. The guilt is still strong though. Mingyu and Jungkook stayed at the house with the Jacksons. Asmodeus will only be more agitated at this point and could attempt to possess Siohan at any time. You and Namjoon will need to get back soon, but you needed to be sure Jeongyeon is alright.

Namjoon comes over and grabs your shoulders, stopping you mid-stride. “Y/n, hey, it’s okay. You couldn’t have possibly known for sure. I remember you telling me about being haunted when you were a teenager, but you couldn’t have known for sure it was him. Besides, it’s been over a decade.”

Letting out a tired whimper, you fall into his arms, burying your head in his chest. “What do we do? Do we need more help?”

“Already taken care of. Remember Yoongi?”

“Min Yoongi? The guy that you met in that demon subreddit?”

“Yeah. He’s here in the city for a friend’s wedding, but I texted him on the way and he agreed to meet us at the Jacksons’ tomorrow morning. He’s going to help us banish Asmodeus. I think with someone as knowledgeable as him we can do it. We also need to do a little more research ourselves before we get back in there and do this.”

Sighing, you lift your head to look up at him. “We have to get rid of him. I know what he’s like - I know what Siobhan is going through. We have to help her, Joon.”

Your husband gives you his infamous sweet, dimpled smile.

“Everything’ll be okay, Y/n. We’ll help her and I’m going to keep you safe, I promise.” Namjoon leans down to gently kiss you, reassurance and warmth spread through you at the softness of his lips. These moments with Namjoon almost make you feel like a normal couple living a normal life. Almost.

The doctor comes out of Jeongyeon’s room then and you pull away reluctantly.

“She’s still okay, right?” You ask as soon as she joins you in the hallway.

“She is. Her concussion isn’t too much of a concern, she just needs to take it easy. You can go in and see her if you want.” You return the doctor’s friendly smile and rush in, pulling Namjoon behind you.

“Jeongyeon!” She’s sitting up in bed, looking out the window. She looks tired, and you can see the bruising on her arm that’s not in a sling, but overall she still smiles at you. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright. Sore, but that’s the worst of it.”

“Well, tomorrow we’ll make sure you’re comfortable at the hotel with everything you need before heading out.”

She shakes her head, immediately shutting that down. “No way. I’m coming with you.”

“But your arm is-”

“It’s just a sprain.”

“You shouldn’t move it much.”

“I won’t! Plus, I’m ambidextrous so I can do everything else as normal.”

Frowning, you place your hand over hers. “This could get dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

She flips her hand over to hold yours. “I knew what I was getting into when I took this job. Danger comes with the territory. I promise I’ll be fine and I can keep going.”

The two of you have a short staredown, your nervous expression meeting her reassuring one. Reluctantly, you agree with the rule that she works the camera and does not help with any of the equipment.

She agrees and it’s not long until she’s discharged and you’re able to go back to the hotel and regroup. You already know Namjoon wants to question you more about Asmodeus, but he’s kind enough to leave it be for now. You need the rest of the day to prepare for the next banishment attempt. With you being so familiar with this demon, it’s succeeded in rattling you in a way you’re not quite used to.

Min Yoongi is only two years older than Namjoon, but he’s still had much more experience. He was lucky enough to start studying demonology earlier in his life and was able to learn exorcisms much more quickly due to an uncle that happened to do the same line of work. He and Namjoon met online a handful of years ago and have met in person a few times. Usually, they just hang out for fun but this is the first time Yoongi will be helping you with a job.

“So you've banished him before?” Yoongi questions, sitting across from you at the kitchen table. He’s met you all at the Jacksons’ home in the morning. He’d done more research on Asmodeus as did Namjoon so they’d have more knowledge, but you’d had yet to give your full personal testimonial until now.

“Yeah. Long story short, we moved into a new house when I was fifteen. It’s actually in a town not too far from here. I knew something was weird about my room the day we moved in. I remember hearing voices and feeling a presence and it all traced back to that old mirror that was under a floorboard in my room. It wasn’t until my seventeenth birthday that Asmodeus revealed himself. He was in the form of my crush at the time and -”

“Who was it?”

Jungkook interrupts your story with the question.

“Who was what?”

“Who was your crush at the time?” Jeongyeon flicks him on the shoulder and he groans. “What?!”

“This is what you want to ask?”

“Just to help visualize it!”

“It was Omarion,” you roll your eyes at him as he and Mingyu snicker from next to him. “Anyway, he was nice to me just like Siobhan, then I turned eighteen and he told me wanted me to be his bride. I refused and so he started tormenting me. Destroying our house, scaring the shit out of us. He even killed our family dog and uh - he possessed me briefly.” You gulp at the memory. “The pain of having yourself violated in the form of possession is one I can’t describe. It’s cold, it hurts, and it feels so utterly lonely. Like you’re watching everything through your own eyes but you’re trapped in an empty room that feels so claustrophobic.”

“How old is he?” Mingyu questions.

“Thousands of years old,” Namjoon answers for you, noticing how retelling this story is making you uncomfortable. “According to what I’ve found on him, he’s been doing this for centuries even. He’s a demon of greed and lust and he preys on women hoping to take them from their bodies and take them with him for eternity. Think of it like he’s a screwed-up Hades and Persephone-like situation. He seems to get banished here and there and that mirror is definitely how he gets access to our world, but that’s as far as he gets banished to and it seems to only be temporary. The mirror itself just gets passed from thrift store to thrift store, getting picked up by unsuspecting people. Siobhan found it at a Goodwill a few years ago which is when this all started for her.”

“But we want to banish him for good this time,” You say matter-of-factly. “That’s where you come in, Yoongi. We need help with the spell since we need to do a different one to get rid of him for good. We want to send him away, but make sure he can’t pop up again. He’s one of the stronger forces we’ve dealt with and we need the manpower. We also need to narrow down the right crystals - stronger ones. Once he’s gone, we’ll take the mirror back to Korea with us and store it away so he can’t even come back if he wanted to.”

Yoongi takes off the backpack he’s wearing at your words and opens it, revealing a bunch of shimmering crystals.

“I brought some that I thought could come in handy. I was researching him yesterday and think these could do the trick.” You sort through the bag, recognizing the various crystals and nodding.

“Thank you! I think we could use most of these. He’s strong but he’s certainly not unbeatable.”

“When are you doing this?” Siobhan asks from the corner of the room. She and her parents have been here the whole time listening to you all go back and forth.

“Tonight. It’s best not to wait too long since we just had this run-in. We need to stay on top of him now that he’s shown himself. We’ll get him.”

It takes the rest of the day for everyone to prepare for the second banishment. Mingyu and Jungkook go over the spell over and over again for practice while you all prepare the basement. Asmodeus was able to leave Siobhan’s bedroom before, but if you trap him in the basement he can’t leave so easily.

You all work together to remove as much furniture from the room as you can so you don’t have any flying objects hurling at you again. With it being a bigger space, you need a few more cameras and Jeongyeon spreads the salt along the basement stairs and at the bottom to try and ensure he won’t be able to go anywhere. The basement is finished with an attached bathroom where Siobhan and Jeongyeon will take cover once Asmodeus shows himself again. The mirror sits in the middle of the room on the floor.

Wasting no time, you all get into position again, calling him out to him to show himself. He does it rather quickly but in the form of destruction.

“You can’t beat me!” Asmodeus bellow as all around the room, the ceiling and walls thump as if he’s zipping around the room punching every surface he comes in contact with. He’s going to show himself soon since he’s trapped.

“Asmodeus! Show yourself!” You scream at him, watching the ball of grey smoke bounce around the room before beelining for the mirror. Before it hits the mirror, the demon veers to the left at the last minute, knocking into Siobhan and sending her backward.

“Siobhan!” The girl flails around on the floor, gasping and scratching at the air.

“He’s possessing her! Someone put a salt circle around her now!” Yoongi directs, pointing at Siobhan’s figure. Jeongyeon acts first having been the last one with the salt and hurries to make a circle around the girl before she finally settles down, lying flat on her back for a brief moment. In the next blink, she shoots upright, head whipping around in your direction and hissing.

“Oh, fuck,” you catch Jungkook mumble from next to you.

“Recite the spell, now!” Yoongi calls, thumbing through his notebook.

Namjoon, Yoongi, Jungkook, and Mingyu surround Asmodeus, chanting in unison, crystals held out in front of them as they go.

Your feet are planted in front of the demon, watching as the gusts of wind enveloping you all turn grey and pick up faster. It doesn’t disturb the salt circle since it’s acting as an invisible wall, but you can see the demon getting increasingly agitated.

“Asmodeus! Leave this place and never return!” You bellow with as much bass as you can muster. You’re not nervous as before, only angry. Angry that you have to face this entity once more, but you will get rid of him for good.

The house shakes underneath your feet and Asmodeus roars at you, serpent tongue on full display, but you refuse to back down. He seems to sense your unwavering confidence as his eyes dart around the group. Siobhan’s shoulders slump before she starts to choke and gasp. Her eyes begin to bulge and her lips start to pale. He’s choking her from the inside out.

“No!” He’s going to kill her as he goes out - you can tell it just from the way her body is struggling for air. “Let her go!” Screeching at him, you step closer, holding out the palm-sized black jasper. Asmodeus hisses, Siobhan’s fist tightening, wheezing more.

He’s supposed to be getting weaker, not able to still have the strength to do this. Wracking your brain you try and think of something. All of the men in the room are still chanting at the demon, which is at least weakening him enough that he can’t break through the barrier, but you need to distract him. Take his attention off of hurting Siobhan long enough to allow the chance to finally send him away.

“Stop it and take me instead!” The words tumble out before you can think and it immediately catches the demon’s attention.

Blown-out pupils meet yours, studying you. “Just like that? You’re finally ready to be mine?” He asks through Siobhan’s choked tone.

You bite your tongue and nod, hoping you can convince him. Demons may be tricky, but in your line of work you’ve learned, they can be extremely gullible most of the time especially when you dangle something they want the most in front of them. Out of the corner of your eye, Namjoon stares, trying to get your attention. He’s steadfast in his words but you didn’t discuss this as a backup plan.

“Say it. Tell me you want to be my bride.”

Gripping your crystals so tight in your hand that it hurts, you mumble out the words he wants to hear. You need to let him start to possess you. That will be when the rest of his powers are the weakest and his guard will be down so he’ll finally banish away.

“Get rid of this salt circle then. And tell these idiots to stop babbling at me.”

“Do as he says!”

“But, Y/n-”

“Please, Mingyu just listen to him.” You stare at him, your eyes flickering to each one of them, Namjoon last. The only thing you can hope for is that he knows what your plan is. As soon as Asmodeus begins possessing you they need to start chanting again.

Your husband gives you a curt nod and tries to inconspicuously meet the gaze of the three other men to communicate with them as well.

On shaky legs you approach Asmodeus, the demon smirking sickly at you, waiting patiently to be released. You gingerly reach a foot out and swipe away a portion of the salt. As soon as it's gone, Siobhan’s hand comes out to grab your arm, dark eyes boring into yours.

Suddenly, her body starts to spasm, the hand gripping you tightening its hold. Her eyes roll to the back of her head as her back arches almost painfully. She lets out a scream, making you wince at the frequency, and then as quickly as it happened, it’s over. Siobhan falls to the ground in front of you, knocked out cold.

“Siobhan!” Moving to kneel, you intend to check her pulse, but you’re stopped by another grasp of your arm. When you’ve spun around, you’re finally faced with Asmodeous’ true form once again.

He’s seemingly eight feet tall, covered in what you can only describe as jet-black scales, his bat-like wings looking far bigger than they had in his fake form. Large, pointed ears pivot in your direction along with blazing red eyes and menacing teeth. The demon’s face can only be described as resembling a storybook goblin, complete with a long nose and wrinkly features. His black, spiraled horns look sharp enough to cut you as do his long, spindly fingers and pointy claws. Seeing him in front of you brings you back to the night in your room when you banished him all alone. You had nearly been in tears and ready to piss yourself, but this time, you feel a confidence you lacked then.

“Hello, my dear.” His claws trace down your arm and you have to hold your breath. “Don’t look so upset. You’re going to love it with me. Much more than with him.” Asmodeus sneers over your shoulder at Namjoon and you don’t have to see your husband’s face to know it is sure to be filled with fury.

His hands are as cold as ice and he brings both hands up to cup your face. You keep your hands at your side, fists clenched. The demon gives you one more grin as he begins. Pins and needles shoot through you in an instant, making you scream. Your eyelids flutter, but you fight to keep them open. Asmodeus’ crimson eyes almost hurt to look at as they glow as your limbs start to feel heavy.

Namjoon’s voice booms nearby, starting to recite the banishment spell. The others follow suit, their voices sounding much louder than before. The demon in front of you pulls away from you momentarily, yelling loud enough that your ears begin ringing. He closes his eyes for a split second, but it’s enough time that you can break out of the trance he attempted to put you under. Swiftly, you reach up, wrapping your arms around the demon to keep him in place. You press the black jasper into his back, making him screech again and tumble backward with you still wrapped around him.

Namjoon is at your side in a flash, followed closely by Jungkook and they work to hold him down as they speak. Mingyu and Yoongi follow, holding down the rest of him.

The demon flails underneath you all but isn’t getting away which means he’s much weaker than before. The grey, smokey wind that he emits fills the room again, whipping faster and faster. Asmodeus growls and the house shakes again. In the corner of the room, it sounds like the walls are cracking, but none of you relent.

“Asmodeus!” You yell, right in his face. “Leave this place! Forever!” You shove the black jasper into his stomach and he shrieks again. You watch as the demon underneath you begins turning into the same grey smoke that circles your head. Hist legs are first followed by the arm currently in Jungkook’s grasp.

“You lying bitch!” The demon spits at you, rage that you’ve never seen written across his ugly face. He’s only an arm, a head, and a torso at this point, and right before he starts to lose his last remaining limb, he uses the remainder of his strength to bring his hands up, claws spread out, ready to inflict damage.

You notice too late, and can only watch as he swings his hand at you.

Before he makes contact with you, Namjoon is in front of you, shielding your body from the attack and you can only watch in horror as the demon’s razer-like claws slash across Namjoon’s chest. Blood splatters out, spraying the demon right before he vanishes completely, a final shriek ringing in the air as he turns to complete smoke, which then wafts up into the air and evaporates.

The room is silent for only a second, giving you long enough to register what just happened.

“Namjoon!” The scream that leaves your lips sounds almost foreign as you scramble to your husband’s side. You roll him over, watching the blood seep from the deep slashes in his skin. He doesn’t move and his eyes don’t open but you can see his injured chest rise and fall, albeit slowly. Yanking off your sweatshirt, you press it to his wounds, attempting to stop the bleeding.

Around you, everyone is rushing. You think you hear Jungkook’s voice talking into his phone, telling whoever is on the other line the address for the Jackson’s house. Yoongi and Mingyu get to work cleansing the room and Jeongyeon gingerly wraps up the mirror, securing it in a small locked box. Tears blur your vision as you whimper his name, begging him to wake up.

Everything is white noise to you - Namjoon is your only focus. Making sure he’s okay, checking his pulse. The ambulance arrives after what feels like hours and moves you away to take him. You follow close behind, waving in Jeongyeon’s direction when she says they’ll be right behind you and the ambulance. You don’t take any notice of the way you’re shivering in your tank top as the October air fills the back of the ambulance. You’ll brave the cold to be by Namjoon’s side.

Being in another hospital room in the same week is a record for you. Namjoon is still asleep and has been since he was attacked. The steady beep of the lifeline machine has lulled you to sleep the past two nights you spent curled up in the uncomfortable recliner by his side. Everyone has been by since he’s been admitted. Jeongyeon insisted on staying with you but you sent her back to the hotel to rest.

It’s early when you check the bedside clock, getting up from your curled position to stretch. Namjoon is still asleep when you look at him, his breathing even and quiet.

You quickly duck into the bathroom in the room to brush your teeth and wash your face. Namjoon should be waking up any time now and even after all these years, you want to look good for him.

“Hi, Y/n.” Siobhan’s voice startles you when you leave the bathroom. She, along with her parents and their other two children are all standing in the doorway of the room.

“Oh hi, how are you doing?”

“Much better. Last night was the most restful sleep we’ve had in months.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Siobhan surprises you by rushing over and pulling you into a hug. Her siblings follow suit and hug you as well. They’re all thanking you and all you can do is say you’re welcome. Her parents hug you next, giving you more thank yous and telling you how grateful they are.

They stay with you for a few minutes to talk about Namjoon and how he’s doing. He’s still asleep as you gaze at him, taking in his beautiful features, feeling the lurch in your heart when you think of the way he smiles at you and how he says your name.

As if noticing the shift in your mood upon talking about your husband, Mona announces it’s time to leave and they all say their goodbyes. You walk them to the door and before they leave, Siobhan turns to you once more and grabs your hand.

“Seriously, thank you again.” She says it quieter and you can hear the sincerity in her words. You squeeze her hand in return and watch as the family leaves.

After they’re gone, it’s quiet again and you feel yourself starting to feel a new sadness wash over you - the sorrow of missing and worrying for Namjoon, but that’s cut short upon arrival when you turn around.

Namjoon is struggling to sit up in bed, wincing to himself.

“Joon!” You rush over to the bed, holding a pillow behind him as he leans up, settling back.

“Hey.” Tears well as you grab his hand, bringing it up to your lips.

“You’re awake.”

“I’m awake,” he rasps. His voice sounds hoarse, so you hurry to grab the water pitcher next to the bed and pour him a cup. After you hold it to help him drink, you set the cup down and go back to holding his hand. “Was someone just here? When I was starting to come to I thought I heard other voices.”

“The Jacksons just left. They stopped by to thank us and see how you were doing. How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted. I’m ready to go home and sleep in my own bed.”

“Not so fast. You’ve been asleep for two days straight and your whole torso is wrapped in bandages. He didn’t do any fatal damage, but you lost a lot of blood.” A sniffle slips out and Namjoon notices.

“Hey, hey I’m okay though. The demon’s gone and I’m alive and you’re safe.” Even in a hospital bed with an injury of his caliber, he’s still your strong, level-headed, loving husband. As carefully as you can, you lean over the bed to kiss him. “Wait, wait, I have crusty unconscious breath!” He tries to turn his head away with minimal effort.

“Don’t care.” You murmur as your lips meet in a long, closed-mouth kiss. His lips are just as pillowy and comforting as always.

When you pull away, the two of you share a sigh.

“I’ll go let the doctors know you’re up. They’ll want to check on you and I’m sure they’ll know when we can go home.” Reluctantly, you let his hand go and head to the door.

“Hey, Y/n,” you stop when Namjoon calls your name.

“Yeah?”

“I think when we get home it’s about time we go on vacation. I think I need some time in the sun, on a beach somewhere. Far away from anything demon related.”

With a smile, you nod. “Sounds like a plan.” Your husband blows you a tired kiss on your way out and it makes your heart soar as usual.

You hum to yourself as you leave the room, heart, full of ease and love. You all haven’t taken a vacation in probably a year, so it’s something that is desperately needed.

While waiting for a nurse to return to the nurses' station, your phone beeps with an email notification.

EXORCIST INQUIRY!!

The words are in all caps and even read loudly to your eyes. With a sigh, you open the email and skim it. Your team is needed as soon as possible in California to help a woman’s son who, as she described, is behaving “just like Regan from The Exorcist!!”

You mull over the next steps before typing out a response to the woman, informing her that you had an emergency in New York, but will attempt to get to them soon. You let her know that you’ll know for sure by end of the day and will give her more information.

Jeongyeon also receives your emails and you already know she’s going to text you soon about how you should be resting with Namjoon, but you’re prepared for her nagging. Namjoon will be disappointed that a seaside vacation will need to take a backseat for now.

As long as demons and ghosts still break through to our world, the work of a paranormal investigator is truly never done.

[iplaywithstring]

So, I might be "in remission" with my ME/CFS.

it's in quotes because I don't actually know the criteria and I haven't talked to my doctor about it.

I had remission before - right after I was diagnosed in 2010, I started feeling better. Better as in I had been sleeping/resting/not active for about 18 hrs a day and then over the period of about two weeks I felt better and told my doctor my symptoms were gone. I was warned it could come back at any time, but I didn't listen. I did more and more and within a year I had taken up power lifting (2011). Shortly after that (fall 2012) I got a part time job. Within a few months (summer 2013) symptoms came back, I had to quit my job, and things got progressively worse.

There have been times since 2013 that I have been housebound. There have been times when I had about 4-6 "active" hours a day (where "active" meant anything from being on my feet to just being upright). After starting treatment for endometriosis I went through the diagnostic process a second time with the same results in 2017. I was prescribed stimulants to take as-needed on days when I needed to function in 2018.

Since 2019, I have been getting better at pacing - understanding my limits, not pushing myself, and actually resting. Early 2020, my husband went to Europe for 5 weeks, and I managed to take care of myself and my kids and the house without crashing (and did volunteer work!). When things shut down, I was able to sleep, rest, and be active according to how I felt instead of basing my activity on outside pressures. I really learned what pacing was and where my limits were.

in the fall of 2021 I went back to school - two days a week on site and two days a week online classes from home. Aside from a few bad days and not really leaving the house on the weekends, I managed without crashing. I started my full time on the job training three weeks ago (although full disclosure - I haven't actually worked full time - I've been sent home early at least once a week (because not all clients are comfortable having a student sit in on meetings) so it's not quite full time, but a lot more activity than I have been doing).

I'm waiting for the crash, but it hasn't happened. My husband reminds me that I'm not doing anything in the evenings - couch lump most of the time - but I am still doing a lot. Twice this week I was close to 10k steps, and I wake up the next day expecting to feel awful and I.....don't. My mind is working, my muscles and joints are....well, ok, they're sore, but OTC meds are taking care of it. My digestive system is working (this is a big deal!). I haven't had insomnia or other sleep difficulties. I haven't had random nausea or dizzyness or inability to function.

A friend of mine has reminded me that I'm likely riding on a lot of adrenaline, and she's not wrong, but I would expect the weekends to be bad if that was what was keeping me going. Instead, I'm...fine? Like today is Saturday and I woke up on my own around 8 and instead of napping in the afternoon I went for a 3k walk (slowly, on flat ground) - this is after doing some cleaning. And then I spent the rest of the day mostly sitting/reclining and feeling pretty tired. But just tired, not ill, not sensitive to sound, not having temperature regulation problems, just sitting on the couch relaxing (ok, under a blanket, but still, no chills or blue lips).

So now I'm wondering if I've actually just been faking for the past 10 years or if I was actually just lazy and wasting my life, or if I'm going to wake up one day and just be a mess. This is really happy and exciting news, but I feel really......insecure? about the whole thing. Last time I had a remission I went to therapy because it brought up a ton of things I had to work through - identity issues, who I am, what I want, etc. - and in the end it was positive but it was definitely a crisis point.

I want to believe that I am just understanding my limits and somehow not going past my ability, but it's really hard not to bounce back and forth between "oh no when am I going to crash" and "obviously I'm a fraud". It's been a trip, folks.

[thedamageofherdays]

This week's [23-08-2021 - 29-08-2021] reading log is here! I read a lot again this week and I feel like it's a lovely variety of fics. Most fics are Stucky like usual, but there's at least one other ship. I am constantly amazed by the talent people have in this fandom! There was one fic I read on Tumblr that I can't seem to find unfortunately, but when I do I'll make sure to reblog and rec it 💕

Favourites are marked with a 🌻

When life gives you lemons by moonthejedi394 @moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 40k words, Mature] (12/15 chapters available)

Or 13 Terrible Things to Do With Lemons Other Than Making Lemonade

Steve Rogers is a home health nurse. He works for an agency, which assigned him to the aging Winifred Barnes, the one and only Silent Era Hollywood darling. As her needs increased, she requested the agency assign Steve to her full-time. She could pay for it, so she got it. Steve then moved in with her, becoming her caregiver; he cooked, he cleaned, he managed her medications, he made sure she was comfortable.

Winifred's children treated him less than ideally. He was the help, after all. And then Steve had the audacity to go and turn out to be eldest son James Barnes's soulmate. No one saw that coming.

The Masseur and the Assassin by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 17k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes needed a vacation from his job. What he found was a happy ending.

The Words Breathe by buckbarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

All Steve has to do is keep his promise. When he doesn’t, Bucky gets mouthy.

Soft by this_wayward_life @wayward-lives [Stucky, 2k words, Explicit]

The last time he'd seen Bucky he'd looked unhealthy, with pallid skin and greasy, lanky hair. Now, Bucky shone; his hair was thick and silky, his skin a deep bronze from spending so much time outside. He was softer, too; the hard muscle that used to cover him was now replaced by soft fat, his body still strong, but in a more mundane way. His thighs were thicker, his ass plumper, and when he'd pulled Steve into the river Steve had noticed the pudge on his stomach.

Seeing Bucky so happy, well-fed and shining, was a bit of a kick in the face. For all the years they'd known each other, he'd never seen Bucky so... care-free. Now that Bucky was putting on weight, his middle soft and his body malleable, it sent a bolt of arousal through Steve every time he noticed the curves of Bucky's body.

Or: Bucky put on a bit of weight in Wakanda, and Steve is Not Coping.

🌻 Revive Another Side of Me by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Steve’s never lived in a world without Bucky, and he’s not living now. It takes them a while, much too long, to get that awaited rest, a little slice of peace after the dust has settled.Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are inseparable, history remembers. But they’re not men of the past quite yet.

🌻 imagine being loved by me by spacebuck @spacebuck [Stucky, 20k words, Explicit]

Just after 1am - a few hours after he posted today’s photo - he hears the tell-tale sound of a twitter message. Bucky grabs his phone, not checking who it’s from as he opens it because it’s probably one of his mutuals yelling at him as per usual. When he actually looks at his phone, though, it’s not Natasha

The ‘verified’ check stares back at him for a long moment before he can even bring himself to process the name on his screen. Steve Rogers is messaging him. Or, he reasons, a very good fake. The handle looks right though, not that Bucky knows. Not that Bucky has Captain’s America’s tweets set up as notifications, or that Bucky’s own display name is set to captain america’s bitch. Not at all.

Hey, the first message says. It’s Steve.

🌻 JB’s Complete Lube Services by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

People just didn’t approach Captain America and proposition him. Although, sometimes Steve wished they would; even the pinnacle of virtue and justice needed to get dicked down from time to time.

Or, the one where Steve has the hots for a mechanic and decides to be proactive in getting that dick.

If it had to be someone by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky had known since he was a child that he didn’t have a choice in who he married, but he’d thought he had more time before the day arrived.

Miscalculations by christywantspizza @christywantspizza [Ransom Drysdale/Reader, 6k words, Explicit]

Ransom tries to get you to sleep with him by less than honorable means. You give him what he wants, just not how he wants it.

How to Seduce a Writer by obsessivereader [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

What's a determined master strategist going to do when the oblivious writer he's trying to woo keeps missing all the clues?

He doesn’t think it’s because he hadn’t signaled his own interest to Bucky. He’s pretty much done everything short of hitting Bucky over the head with semaphore flags by this point. There’s no way Bucky could’ve missed them. Unless… There’d been that one link he’d stumbled upon when he’d googled ‘how to talk to a writer’. It’d been written by a writer, who’d been candid about how oblivious writers could be, and how someone could go about seducing one. An idea starts to form. It’s ridiculous, but at this point, he’s willing to go with ridiculous, since subtle wasn’t getting him anywhere.

🌻 Pod Bless America by Deisderium @deisderium [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

Bucky can't believe his favorite podficcer recorded his newest fanfic AU of the show Commandos. He's even more surprised when the customer who busts him listening to fic while he's working in the office supply store turns out to be that podficcer.

* The guy—maybe bi_shield?—took his phone, looked down at the screen, and smiled. "Yeah, that one's mine," he said with no evidence of embarrassment. "It was a good one." He handed the phone back to Bucky.

"I wrote it," Bucky croaked.

take a bite by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 7k words, Mature]

"I’d never let anyone freeze to death.” Steve gives a big sigh and flutters his lashes. “All that blood gone to waste.”

Bucky’s lips turn down and his nose scrunches up a little. “I want to be grossed out, but…”

“But you get it.” Steve gives him a pointed look. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can appreciate how juicy blood is.”

*

Or: Vampire Steve saves newly-turned werewolf Bucky from a snowstorm.

Leaving the Shield Behind by BuckyAboveEverything [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

“So, on one hand, we have Steve Rogers - hunk, genius, animal lover. Buys you waffles and overpriced coffee. 100% wholesome all-American boy.”

“And, on the other hand, we have Capsicle – twink, smart-ass, fanboy. Reads your stories and sends you fanart. Possibly a pervert or a serial killer.”

Bucky groaned.

“I am 100% certain I am 0% sure of what to do."

Bucky Barnes, full-time copywriter and free-time fanfic writer, struggles to choose between two equally-attractive suitors, only to find that he doesn’t have to after all.

* Based on a true story *

Cap's Book Corner by Neche [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

Recluse Author Bucky Barns stumbles into fanboy Steve Rogers bookstore one day...

Cat Nap by galwednesday @galwednesday [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Objectively, losing the Bucharest safehouse and its contents was the least of Bucky’s problems. The balding agent he’d seen directing the raid was apparently affiliated with SHIELD, which was a shadowy government agency that made representatives from other shadowy government agencies suddenly remember urgent appointments when Bucky tried to bribe, threaten, and otherwise shake them down for information on what the hell SHIELD might want with a former brainwashed assassin. Dodging SHIELD should be his number one priority.

Subjectively, he wanted his fucking cat back.

at any given moment by honeypuffed [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

Steve and Bucky find out that everyone thinks they're sleeping together.

Brought to Brightness by eyres [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

🌻 Nokken Wood by leveragehunters @leveragehunters [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

When Sam's friend needs a house-sitter for his place in the country, Steve jumps at the chance. Six months rent-free to do nothing but draw and paint and wander the countryside, looking for inspiration? It was like a dream. But when he gets lost in a storm and nearly falls into a pond he starts to rethink the whole like a dream aspect of life in the country. And when a red-eyed, sharp-clawed, silver-fanged creature rises out of the darkness, Steve is one hundred percent certain the dream's morphed into a nightmare.

...until it gives him a cup of tea.

(Inspired partly by this prompt a supernatural creature is supposed to scare you but instead it gives you a cup of tea and a blanket because you're having a bad day and you keep coming back and partly by this painting.)

Professional Pride by galwednesday [Stucky, 700 words, Teen]

Bucky is having a very good day, until he turns around and finds himself face-to-face with Captain America.

“Oh shit,” he blurts before he can stop himself, and Captain America blinks at him. “Hey, hi, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Here, at New York’s Pride parade, surrounded by thousands of happy screaming people wearing rainbows and sometimes not much else. What is he doing here? Is he on guard duty or something? Was he just on a mission and happened to be passing by on his way back?

He’s in uniform but with the cowl loose around his neck, so when he rubs the back of his head it fluffs up his matted hair. “I, uh. I saw one of your–temporary tattoos?” Captain fucking America says, like it’s a question.

The A-bridged Guide to Trolling by galwednesday [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I don’t have any money.”

Oh no, now the girl looked upset. Her eyes were huge and her lip was wobbling. Bucky tried to think fast despite the oh shit oh shit oh shit looping through his head.

“That’s okay,” Bucky said gently. “I don’t need money. We can figure out another kind of toll.”

The girl frowned at him. “Like what?”

Bucky scratched his head, trying to think of something a kid was certain to have on hand. “Do you know any jokes?”

(Fantasy AU in which Steve is a hedge witch with a green thumb, Bucky is a bridge troll who's new in town, and knock-knock jokes are a viable form of currency.)

It's a bittersweet ending (if you know what I mean) by relenafanel [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I’ll see you around, Steve,” Bucky answers with a smirk, moving away from the counter with a wink.

Steve watches him go. Bucky’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans coated in something to give the appearance of leather. It’s impossible to not watch him go.

stuck on you by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

Decision-Making in Relationships (Paid Research Opportunity!) by castiowl [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Clint looked thoughtfully at the flyer. “I guess your actual roommate wouldn’t be down with it?”

Bucky frowned. “Have you met Steve Rogers?”

no way out but through by hollimichele [Stucky, 9k words, Teen]

Steve never sees it coming.

you got blood on your hands (and i know it's mine) by nighimpossible [Stucky, 3k words, Teen]

Bucky refuses to see Steve after his deprogramming.

Like What You See by daisymondays [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

For all the time Bucky’s spent fantasizing about meeting Captain America, he’d never imagined it would be while posing nude in front of a drawing class.

🌻 A Real Boy by itsnotbleak [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

It took the Winter Soldier three weeks to remember that human beings needed to sleep and eat.

It took Steve far too long to realise the Winter Soldier was sleeping in his bed.

Amapola by chaya [Stucky, 830 words, Teen]

Total fluff. Bucky's recovering nicely. Steve's oblivious. Sometimes it's best to set aside subtlety for action.

Knocking Boots With Sugar by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 4k words, Explicit]

In between summers at college, Steve Rogers wants a new adventure beyond his lonely life in Brooklyn. He ends up in West Texas working on a dude ranch where Bucky Barnes is a long-time employee. When Bucky offers to buy Steve a drink, they end up drunk on tequila and making out in public. For the rest of the summer, they're inseparable. As the summer draws to a close, Steve realizes he doesn't want to leave.

Rogers and Associate by roe87 @jro616 [Stucky, 7k words, Teen]

When they first meet, Bucky is a hooker and Steve is a cop. She's been arrested, but Steve lets her off.

Years pass and they maintain a casual friendship, seeing each other out on the streets most nights.

Though he later makes detective, Steve loses faith in the system and quits his job.

He wants to set up as a private investigator, and he asks Bucky if she'd be his assistant.

Just in time by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky knew the apartment he was renting was old fashioned, but walking in the front door and finding himself transported back to 1938 was not on the list of things he had prepared himself for.

🌻 You Like What's in My Head by dontcallmebree [Stucky, 15k words, Explicit] (with art by @kocuria)

Bucky can’t decide if Steve’s a tough nut to crack or incredibly easy. The timbre of his voice, a low and almost amused, “Sure, kid,” when Bucky asks for a drink feels like something gripping him on the back of his neck.

He thinks this might be one of those moments in life he’ll pinpoint in the future and either curse at for dooming himself, or remember fondly with pride.

He’s right. Bucky Barnes blunders through falling in love with Commander Rogers and tries to find a deeper meaning behind the expensive gifts and thorough fucking.

Can I Sit Here? by BuckyFrickenBarnes [Stucky, 962 words, General]

Bucky has unusual methods for getting rid of his writer's block.

Or, Bucky needs that table.

Workplace Romance by BuckyFricken Barnes [Stucky, 1k words, General]

Bucky is under the impression that his boss hates him.

Or,

Steve needs to get better at dealing with his feelings.

🌻 1-800-MAYTAG by Miss Plum @misspluckyplum [Stucky, 1k words, Explicit]

Bucky just wants to get some housework done. It gets out of hand fast. Silly little fluff and smut romp with snarky stucky boys.

Eyes of the Forest by Lordelannette [Stucky, 7k words, Explicit] (2/8 chapters available)

When Omega Bucky Barnes comes to Eagle Lake, it was in search of wolves, a creature that had not been seen in the area for decades.

What he finds instead is Steve Rogers, a handsome, though quiet Alpha who seems to be everywhere in the forest.

[lightdancer1]

As a reminder in my ATLA-verse there are a few universal deities

The most obvious is Raava, though the Avatar's going by the same name as the Order spirit is not something generally known 10,000 years later and there's an association of Raava as a Spenta Mainyu against Vaatu the Angra Mainyu. Not all Avatars are fully aware of the Raava connection, either, and the more directly they are, the more immense their powers are as the most powerful Avatars are fully aware of the connection and can go full Wrath of God when they need to.

Vaatu as the counter-Avatar/Chaos spirit is referred to under a variety of hidden/occult names, in the Fire Nation as Amatsu-Mikaboshi, in the Water Tribes as Niddhogg, in the main nod to the Norse element of the Northern Water Tribes (and thus in a sense to all of them), in the Earth Kingdom and the Air Nation as Mara. Only the most foolhardy invoke Vaatu by name as it's held to have bad elements to it, and it does, even with Vaatu sleeping in the world-tree for a 10K year nap.

Agni, Tui, and La are all called by the same names across the Four Nations. In the Earth Kingdom's lore La is the most distant figure and Tui is held to be male, not female, even when the spirit IS female and La is male, in a loose sense as humans would perceive it (and far more complicated re: spirits and the reality that La is the ocean as Tui is the literal ball of rock in orbit around Tianxia). In the Water Tribes La has elements of Poseidon and Ran in Indo-European lore in being a powerful if capricious entity as the capacity of the Ocean to be a dick is well-known and hence the importance of revering and honoring Ocean so Ocean doesn't dick for shits and giggles.

In a few of my AUs that 'do the tides command the ship' line leads La to go full Poseidon and jerk Azula around as a means of wielding her against the Fire Nation for extra spite.

Agni likewise is nothing close to benevolent in any tradition, due to incorporating the capital punishment aspects and the legacies of the old Sun Warrior flower wars. The Daystar is not a universally benevolent force, nor is she seen as such. She embodies the nobility and the bloodthirsty aspects of Firebending and has a very Nahua duality about her, as do the other Fire Nation deities.

Yama incorporates elements of the Hindu and Buddhist deities of death as well as Hades and Hel. The main element like Hades is that he is seemingly the most passive of the major deities.....because he knows that everyone dies, in the end, and that he will be able to claim them when and as he wishes. The element of Hel is that there is a myth seen in each of the four cultures where he is a relative of Agni's cast down into the land of the dead for being born with overtly sinister traits of perpetual decay (in the Fire Nation it incorporates elements of the tale of Izanami and Izanagi) and that like Yama he weighs and assigns reincarnation and its fates, as well as presiding over kinder realms of the afterlife and the places where the souls that fucked up badly go to get raked over the coals and a shitty reincarnation before working their way back to human.

As an irony and a nod to the Buddhist aspects of the Air Nomads, it's the deity embodying the reincarnation cycle and Dhukka that happens to be the main Air contribution to the major pantheons.

The major Earth deities are Oma and Shu, the twin Love and Sex deities, who represent, along with the other major deities of the Earth Kingdom's pantheon the fuller elements of human emotion that Earthbending in some ways restricts but is always there all the same.

[swissmissficrecs]

Hi! How about voyeur NSY or friends find out about Johnlock? Or some funny Johnlock that you've enjoyed? Thanks!

Reply:

This is asked for all the time, and as such @inevitably-johnlocked has some fairly comprehensive lists. No need for me to double up on the effort, so here they are:

Lestrade or the Yard Finds Out Part 2 (with links to several previous lists)

Then I'll add these two since I don't see them on those lists:

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (114K, E, Johnlock) Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? (It's just one brief scene at the end, which probably explains why it's not mentioned on those other lists.)

Alternative Facts by SwissMiss (10K, E, Johnlock) It was so nice to see they'd finally got things sorted. After all they'd been through, they deserved to be happy. (Or: Five times people imagine what John and Sherlock get up to in the bedroom, and one time we see what they really get up to.)

Plus I have this list I made a while back for Victorian-era fics:

ACD Mycroft finds out about Johnlock

And for the second part of your ask, here are a few recent funny fics:

Human Behavior by lurikko (21K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock wakes up after a nap and finds that sixty-five years have passed. Also, there's a human living in his apartment.

Incontrovertible Proof by ArwaMachine (14K, T, Johnlock) John likes Sherlock's purple shirt. Sherlock is determined to find out why.

The Impenetrable Mind Palace of Muggle Sherlock Holmes by suitesamba (19K, M, Johnlock, Snarry) Sherlock is obsessed with the new neighbor - the one who's rented Mrs. Hudson's flat while she spends a year abroad. There's something odd about the amiable man, but Sherlock just can't put his finger on it. And when has Sherlock Holmes ever failed at deducing someone? (Note: This was once marked as complete, but has returned to WIP status.)

And some older funny fic lists:

Fics to cheer you up (includes links to 2 other humor lists)

Funny Johnlock

#Humor tag on my rec blog

[rebelliouslala]

A Man Who Plays Volleyball.

happy birthday my beloved little anime boy, Ushijima Wakatoshi!

summary and warnings!: OC!Yuri-Chan (they are there as you, the reader!) x Wakatoshi, fix it fic! Shiratorizawa wins to go to the Nationals; angst, descriptions of parental abuse, descriptions of anxiety, flashbacks, a form of s/lf h/rm, accidental cause to injury, unwanted touching, a creepy guy, divorce drama, this story describes the suppression of men’s mental health, a good spoonful of fluff at the end

word count; ~10k words

a/n: this was SUPER rushed. but, i love him. you have no idea how much i saw myself in satori. in wakatoshi. i love shiratorizawa. may this alternate universe make the original ushijima wakatoshi smile :)

The Shiratorizawa volleyball player, Ushijima Wakatoshi walked home. He carried his volleyball clothes in a duffel bag. He wore a white hoodie with a purple outline. It said, printed, “Ushijima #1” on the back. He walked in silence. Because he preferred it. He felt tired.

The Miracle Boy felt tired. The crickets in the warm farm fields began to buzz with the swift wind that came from behind. He closed his eyes and stopped. He softly smiled as he looked up at the cloudy autumn sky. The sun was setting.

How long has he waited for this day; His eyes, to anyone else, would be dull. But that day, after his battle against Karasuno, they sparkled like freshly oiled olives. His hairdo was gently ruffled as a train passed by to his left, and he took a deep breath. He pumped his fist as a tear went down his cheek.

“I won.”

Once the Miracle Boy arrived home; He placed away his uniform in a laundry machine, and gently sucked on a popsicle. He blinked a few times, watching the machine churn and churn and churn and churn and churn and churn and- His lower back ached. He leaned against the wall, continuing to gently bite the tip. Satori once called him insane for biting ice cream.

“Doesn’t it hurt?!” Satori cried during their summer training. Wakatoshi had offered his land to use for training. Coach Washijo had taken the offer with happiness. He had bit his thick popsicle in response. “No.”

Wakatoshi turned to a sob from the threshold. There sat on its diaper ass one of the Ushijima twins, Kazane, who blinked. She had a straight bob and palm green eyes. She whined.

The boy sighed. He gently bent down and picked her up. She babbled stupidly and gripped at his hair, then whined more for his popsicle. “No.” He continued to bite it and he frowned as Kazane started to whimper. Wakatoshi now began to bounce her and he looked at his uniform as it continued to wash. She stopped making noises and instead clung onto him.

“Wakatoshi? Wakatoshi have you seen—?” He let his mother find him as she sighed. She had straight black hair, one that was in a messy bun since she gave birth to the twins.

“Hello Oka-san.”

“Wakatoshi, you know she can’t have ice cream!” She said, exasperated.

“I know that. She is trying to take it.” He continued biting it.

“Here, gimme,” Ms. Ushijima took Kazane, and let her soft cry in her neck. Wakatoshi simply continued to look at the swirl of his clothes. “I called your father.”

Wakatoshi turned, and he blinked. Once. Twice. His eyebrows furrowed, but he straightened himself up. “Is he not busy?”

“Yeah, but you know, it’s nice because you‘re going to Nationals-, isn’t that what you wanted, Wakatoshi?”

The boy sucked on the stick as the machine stopped. He went down to take the uniform, and began to fold. “Yes.”

She sighed, “Stop acting dramatic. I know you’re happy. Oh- I also invited your girlfriend over.” Wakatoshi now walked past his mother, and his baby sister as he went to his room. He hung his shirt and pants. Ms. Ushijima followed him, “I suggest you wear some nice formal wear, got it? And I want you both in the family room.”

“I was thinking of a nice berry bush, a purely platonic meeting. In the back—?”

“Ugh, fine. Whatever. Sure. Remember to change Mayumi’s diapers.”

Yuri had met Wakatoshi at the side door of his house. Yuri hopped up and gave him a kiss to his jawline. “Good afternoon, ‘Toshi-Chan!”

Wakatoshi blushed. He held his cheek. “Afternoon, my flower.”

The wind that messed up Yuri’s hair passed, and Wakatoshi with no hesitation helped them fix it, after a soft question if he could. He gently petted their hair back.

The couple sat peacefully in the bushes. Yuri, after the wind, then went to the strawberry bushes and started to pick. They hummed as they put them in a small bucket, as Wakatoshi instructed them to, and rinsed them in a bucket his Grandfather made. After that, they handed the small fat berry to his hand, as he cut off the top part of the berry.

“The leaves are edible, but are annoying to the throat. It’s better to mush them together, since they have good properties for the body.” Wakatoshi explained. Yuri giggled in response, continuing to pick a few more, with a here and there bite to the smallest one.

Yuri might even turn around, and coo, “Look at this, ‘Toshi-Chan! Aw, it’s no bigger than my thumb!” At which Wakatoshi leaned over, uncomfortably on the small blanket his Mother gave him, before nodding. “Do you want to name it? Like a child?”

“Oh great idea! How about, hmm, Plate!”

“Hm?”

“Because strawberries, and plate berries!”

“Ah.” Wakatoshi nodded, and he gave them a small side of the mushed leaves. “This should be enough for both of us. Do you think so?”

“Mhm! Oh, how are the twins?”

Wakatoshi leaned back and took a deep breath. Kazane cried so much he had to wake up Grandmother Nijiko for it. She complained loudly, but went over and in a few hours the silence was gone. Mayumi singlehandedly ate the rest of the prepared milk bottles his Mother made. Wakatoshi lost approximately 3.26 hours of sleep. “They are well.” He said.

“Oh! They’re the cutest!! With their little soft lettuce cheeks-! I can’t wait until I can feed them little berries!” Yuri popped one in their mouth.

“Mayumi-tan loves blueberries. Especially playing with them. Kazane-tan prefers spitting the strawberry seeds in my hair.”

“No wonder you take so many showers, Wakatoshi-Chan!” He ate a bit of the mush, and he looked above at the clouds. Yuri laid next to him, and dipped their finger in the mush.

“Satori-kun told me- you- uh, you got mad. I was wondering where you were after the game.”

“We had to celebrate. Besides that, I could not charge my phone. The TV crew took up all the outlets.”

“Aw, bummer! But still, Wakatoshi-Chan~,” Yuri poked his side. He twitched in response. “You got mad. It was a close game.”

Wakatoshi ate another strawberry dipped in mush. “I won. Do not worry. I am okay.” Yuri laid on their stomach and pouted. “Promise?”

“I would never lie to you, Yuri-Chan.”

“Good. Then critique me on my violin, okay!”

He nodded, as Yuri brought out their violin case. Being best friends with Satori, all sorts of little stickers were on it, especially a large Pokémon one. Wakatoshi crossed his legs as Yuri took their violin out, and their bow. They hummed quietly, tuning the violin and hastily rubbing rosin on the bow. They used the bow on the violin, once- twice -the first made Wakatoshi fear the twins would wake up from their nap- before Yuri played.

The Swan.

Wakatoshi laid back. Yuri closed their eyes, leaning into their instrument, and played. The wind picked up again. And Wakatoshi closed his eyes.

Yuri and he met in freshman year. Wakatoshi saw Yuri come in, shy.

“I am so sorry! I thought this was the auditorium.” Wakatoshi had just worked out. He assumed in their vision, this would be attractive and more romantic. To him he felt more comfortable and relaxed.

“It’s a few more blocks down. But I believe the Coach will not allow music.” Seeing Yuri’s jolt of embarrassment, Wakatoshi added, “But I believe outside is a perfect place to play. I would help you, but I know the plants shall tell you what to do.”

And here, as the wind guided Yuri’s fingers, their bow, the soft and intimate touches to the strings, did Wakatoshi hear how his advice had really counted. From Day 1 to Day Now, their improvement let him smile quietly in pride. They were perfect.

After a few days of waiting for a response from Wakatoshi’s father, it was settled and official. He would join them that night for dinner.

Yuri held onto Wakatoshi’s arm, their middle finger writing characters he could not decipher. He looked around at Grandmother Nijiko holding the twins. Kazane was in a little blue robe and Mayumi in red. His mother opened the door to the wardrobe for Wakatoshi. He wore a tight white shirt, and black sleek pants. He observed a royal purple kimono.

Yuri gulped as they watched his mother gently pinch his ear, “Nuh uh, do the Atlantic Blue.”

“I believe it is Pacific Blue.” Wakatoshi responded as he took that instead, and dawned it. He helped Yuri with their kimono.

“Wow, your family is like, really traditional, Wakatoshi,” they said quietly, looking at Wakatoshi.

“It’s my father’s arrival. Oka-san likes it like this.” He paused, before he continued to help them put it on, “and Oba-san, of course.”

Wakatoshi could not admit it, but he did appreciate it too. The clan was well, they just valued the importance of continuing to be perfect. It was only in their strict rules he did not want his new siblings to be subjected to. Wakatoshi glanced at his left hand. as he tied Yuri’s pink clothes together.

“‘Toshi, remember to smile.” Ms. Ushijima reminded him.

Wakatoshi grimaced. “Yes Oka-san.”

Yuri squeezed his hand, and looked up at him. He gently smiled back.

“Yuri-kun, make sure Wakatoshi doesn’t go on about volleyball again!” Grandmother Nijiko said. His smile faded.

His mother went from the twins, to going to him and attacking his stance.

Ms. Ushijima went on her tippy toes, muttering and complaining about his height, then how his hair was so dry, how he needed to use lotion more, and how filthy he was.

Yuri only stared at their feet. The Ushijimas stared at Wakatoshi, having his mother flick his ear and pinch at his stomach. “Stop eating so much rice! Obviously this sport isn’t putting off enough weight, eh?”

The doorbell rang. Finally, Wakatoshi took a gulp of fresh air as his mother went to the door.

It opened. Wakatoshi couldn’t stop smiling.

Everything seemed to blur and fade into each other. Wakatoshi took his coat. Yuri was taken away. The twins began to cry and whine for food. Ms. Ushijima said nothing.

The dining room in the Ushijima home was tiny. The dinner table was small, made of driftwood from Wakatoshi’s great grandfather. The clinking of dishes were mixed in with the twins crying. Yuri sat uncomfortably. Wakatoshi only ate as he looked at his father.

Mr. Utsui Takashi barely had hair- he was balding. He had a curly like stubble though, and he had developed an annoying, wheezing-like cough after inhaling any sort of food. It seemed his vision got worse, since he had thought the twins were identical. He had to take a double take to Yuri and Wakatoshi before laughing and embracing him tightly. His hands were disgusting. He smelled of fish and B.O.

But Wakatoshi put his face in his neck, and embraced him thrice as tightly once he had seen him minutes ago. Wakatoshi nearly lifted his father from the ground. Now, as Wakatoshi picked at his small serving of possibly 382 pieces of rice and steak, he watched his father talk to Yuri.

“Ah, Wakatoshi, she is so cute! Ooh~,” he pinched Yuri’s cheek who giggled and thanked him, a little awkward. Wakatoshi ate his steak, a little curve on his lips from their interaction.

“Utsui-san, I am so excited! I cannot believe you came all this way, because ‘Toshi-chan is going to nationals!” Yuri smiled.

Wakatoshi’s grandmother stopped feeding the twins and sighed. “It’s not why he came.”

The young man felt the steak he swallowed start to froth in his mouth. He forced it down, and turned to his father. “What is the news that you have?”

“I got fired from my job.” Mr. Utsui said, a little weak. “Well, they laid us off—,”

Ms. Ushijima stood up and gathered the plates. “Your father is coming back to live with us until he finds something good. Hopefully in Tokyo so he can move out again.”

“Y-yes...” Mr. Utsui slouched, but he continued to eat his rice.

Wakatoshi ate his steak, and he quietly let his mother take it as he looked at Yuri’s hand. “Will you be taking care of the twins, then?” he said.

Mr. Utsui opened his mouth, a little confused, but he only sighed, “Ah- well yes. I will. I am also discussing that matter with your mother.”

“Do you need to go to court for it?” Wakatoshi continued to sit as Yuri held onto him, adjusting their feet from the long period of sitting on them.

“No, Oba-san will handle the matters.”

Wakatoshi nodded, and quietly asked his grandmother to be excused. Once she nodded, she eyed his left hand as he helped Yuri up.

“Your lover cannot go. I need to ask them some things as well.”

“Oba-san.” Wakatoshi bowed his head, “they need to stretch out their feet.”

“I don’t care. Sit by me, Yuri-tan.” Yuri looked back, and shooed Wakatoshi off. He bowed, only slightly, before sliding open the doors, and going outside.

The Ushijima Land stretched for only a couple of square acres. Wakatoshi sat down awkwardly by the lake.

It was technically a marsh but his mother never liked him calling it that. He fondly remembered how he invited his team here to train. Goshiki nearly passed out in the fields further West, if Grandmother Nijiko had not taken care of him. Wakatoshi smiled remembering how she pinched his cheeks and cooed, “Goshiki-Bo.”

“Wakatoshi.” He turned, slightly, and Mr. Utsui sat down next to him with a bit of difficulty. “Ah, what a nice night, hm?” he tried to hide his cough.

“Yes.” the young man said.

Mr. Utsui sighed, tapping his fingers and looking off at the side, towards the stars. “H-How is Shiratorizawa?”

“We won against Karasuno a few days ago. My team and I are going to nationals.”

Mr. Utsui smiled. “Ah, perfect, perfect, good for you. I’m happy that it makes you happy.” Wakatoshi looked down. He did not feel anything. The dream that had woken him up this morning has scared him. He had no idea why. “You trained hard for this, hm?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad my son has come all this way. You’ve gotten so big and strong! Tell me, do the twins bother you? I hope the farm work isn't too much either. But you’re 18 now, and-,”

Wakatoshi stood up. He took a deep breath. He simply took off his kimono.

Mr. Utsui blinked. “‘Toshi?”

“I’m going for a run.” The boy ran without a word to his father. He was glad Mr. Utsui didn’t follow. Because Wakatoshi began to cry.

After a good ten minute run, Wakatoshi took yet another shower once he got back. He now wore his pajamas. A big shirt he had been gifted once from Mr. Utsui, and Pokemon themed pants he got from Satori a year ago.

Wakatoshi went to the entrance of his home, holding Yuri’s hands. It was time to say goodbye to Yuri-Chan. “Your Grandma is so weird.” they giggled, trying to hush their voice. That made no sense to him, really. Grandmother Nijiko heard everything.

“She is my blood. I got it from her.” Yuri giggled and kissed him softly, and he did in return. “You’re so weird~,”

“Yes.” He wanted to go inside already. He needed to think of what the matter was with his father. But he needed to also stall for Yuri to feel safe.

“Heh, okay, tomorrow is my practice.” They pulled him close and cooed, “I’ll see you?”

“Of course.” He stared at their features. He remembered hearing a few opposing volleyball players try to bully Yuri. He made sure they lost within two sets. For Yuri was like a flower to Wakatoshi- they had a timeless beauty. He loved staring at the shape of their eyes, how their nose scrunched ever so slightly when they smiled, and especially, when their irises dilated. He never felt such an intense feeling pull himself toward her.

They hugged him tightly. “Love you, ‘Toshi-Chan.”

“I love you too.”

After another kiss, Yuri-Chan’s aunt pulled up in her car. With another wave, Yuri had disappeared from his grasp. Wakatoshi was all alone.

☆彡

The Last Set. Wakatoshi took his stance as one of the outer blockers. He watched the ball be served by the Karasuno Crows. The Samurai Crow, Asahi, paused before spiking, causing Wakatoshi to miss his timing on the block. On the next turn, when Kenjiro sets, Wakatoshi returns his point as he spikes against the block. In games, he lets Satori do the blocking, since he is better. Wakatoshi is smart, he has no doubt about that in this sport, but he knows his teammate’s instinctual guess is better than anything. When Satori went left, Wakatoshi followed and blocked it correctly. He quietly nodded as Satori beamed with pride.

After another few more scores, Wakatoshi blinked at the sudden point Karasuno took. His eyebrows were raised as he drank his water. He was surprised by the new attack Karasuno made. Never in his years of volleyball research, of play, did he believe it could work against his strong team, or actually score. They were extremely fearless.

Wakatoshi frowned at himself when Reon missed. But now he can make a point to honor him, and also win back the lead. As he spiked, he spotted the little short Libero, the Lightning Bolt Crow Yu. He frowned, and he spiked quickly to his left. It was quick, causing a jolt of pain to his shoulder, but it did the trick for them to get a point.

Despite that, the Blond Crow, Kei, tried to go against him. Which made him annoyed. This tiny blocker, tried to go against his immeasurable strength? Wakatoshi huffed quietly. 

Wakatoshi hated how Kei knew how to one touch, how to time his spikes perfectly. But he didn’t even have the strength like Satori did. He was just a wannabe Satori. And no one is like Satori. And such thoughts, that the young man had, made his strength greater with the stress of the Blond Crow. Kei made a grave mistake. Pissing off the Miracle Boy.

With the next point to be made, and with his new power up that Kei unknowingly gave Wakatoshi, the Miracle Boy then, out of pure anger, made sure he could not play. Using his entire body weight, he made sure that Kei was out. Against Kei’s perfect block, Wakatoshi had spiked so hard to Kei’s right fingers, he heard the crack.

As Wakatoshi landed, he turned away. He had scored. And Kei would be gone.

After Karasuno’s kerfuffle of Kei’s condition, now Wakatoshi could serve. Now that the Blond Crow was gone, just a few more points were made by him and Wakatoshi could see Father.

“Bring it!” Karasuno yelled.

Bring it? Wakatoshi thought. How amusing. He will. He threw the ball up, jumped, and struck it hard. The Samurai Crow hit it in the air, his skin turning red from impact. Typical. Karasuno was playing yet another synchronized attack. But Wakatoshi saw how Satori eyed Sugawara’s shoes, and jumped immediately. The Captain relaxed at seeing Satori’s correct guess, and watched. He watched Satori glare down at the boy, a blush blooming on his pale cheeks. Wakatoshi could not help but smirk to himself as well.

The Eagles were soaring far above the Crows.

The Last Set. Wakatoshi, being a not loud person, clapped for Satori as the rest of his team screamed. Satori’s blocks were always one to be celebrated. His skills were amazing, and were an important asset to the team.

After switching sides, Wakatoshi served. But he can feel himself getting tired, as he jumped he got a blurry vision and hit the ball to the net. He makes a genuine apology, deciding to let his team do some more of the heavy lifting. After all, the Blond Crow was gone.

But seeing the Chibi-Chan, Shoyo Hinata, Wakatoshi stood taller. He scowled at the boy. Kenjiro sensed his anger, and set the ball to the Ace. Now he spiked it down. But no. As if the boy was blessed only with his speed, he saw, in awe, how the boy caught the damn ball with his face. Satori missed his spike, the two comrades tched at the boy. Wakatoshi could feel his and Satori’s hatred at the boy’s talentless smile. Even more so, what made Wakatoshi steam further was that Shoyo still scored points. Not only was he reckless, he always just went for his head. It made the Ace sick to his stomach. Ungrateful runt.

Wakatoshi had not doubted he wouldn’t win, but now he wanted to crush the small boy. He wanted to win just as bad as he did.

After the next loss, due to Satori’s overthinking, Wakatoshi tried not to chuckle at seeing Satori get yelled at by the Coach. Despite the hilarity, now the Captain had to make up for Satori’s lost concentration. Right now he couldn’t depend on him. Right now he needs to win. Even if Satori can’t pick up his slack.

The first years’ reckless quick attack. Wakatoshi hated it. Speed was all he had. Nothing like the great rival Wakatoshi had expected him to be; no, just Stupid, Small, Sly Shoyo.

Wakatoshi can hear Yuri-Chan cheer loudly from the bleachers with his school. He heard his school cheer proudly after Eita’s no touch serve, only to find Karasuno's ridiculous cheering. Now he turned around, to his team, and he furrowed his brows. He looked upon their glistening faces. “We Shall Finish This.” Now all of Shiratorizawa sang aloud. Perfect. A traditional song. A traditional strength of his. He will beat all of Karasuno, if he has to, to the ground.

Wakatoshi watched as Shoyo reflected his spike, and made what should’ve been his point, theirs. He never wanted anything more than to crush Shoyo as he did to Kei. He clenched his fists and turned away.

Goshiki talked. Gushed about the Shrimp. “Can you believe it, Wakatoshi? It’s like his speed can power through your strength!” The Ace said nothing in response.

Stupid Shoyo....he shouldn’t have done that at all.

Goshiki was trying to prove himself, to help Wakatoshi’s previous loss- Wakatoshi felt like he was trying to watch paint dry.

In retaliation, Wakatoshi hit hard against the New Crow despite the Samurai Crow’s time block that he copied from the Blond Crow. But now he felt his arm throb. Store. He would need to wait until he can use all of his strength to beat them. To finish this. But first, Wakatoshi needed to calm himself down.

He needed a replacement.

Wakatoshi turned to the smaller, youngest member. He put his hand on his shoulder, and made strong eye contact. “Goshiki. Do not panic, you have much talent. Let us finish this.”

Wakatoshi moved out of the way, and he caught his breath. Goshiki made a great point. As he planned. As he should. So he can finish beautifully. It was often like the paintings his Uncle Hideaki would make, little colors mixing in, adding up to the pine forests next to the Ushijima Acres. What Goshiki did was pure art. With a serve to get them back in the lead. With Goshiki’s now flared ego, Wakatoshi knew he could lead this. He had successfully stored up enough energy, and calmed himself down- 

A tie.

He noticed Coach staring at him. As Captain, as Ace, as a Volleyball Player. He needed to win for him as well. He lowered his stance. Kenjiro made the set to, The Traditional Wakatoshi, The Traditional Strength, The God, spiked hard to the Libero Crow. The ball flew past.

One More Point. Wakatoshi heard. One More Point. Because they are stronger.

But who came running back? Just as they were winning, for one more point. The Blond Crow had flown back to the game.

The Last Set. 15 Shiratorizawa. 14 Karasuno.

Wakatoshi wanted to crush his dreams, and now his other fingers. Yunohama came in, but Satori read failed on a part of the play against Tobio. Wakatoshi wanted to say something to the Blond Crow. But he realized he did not despise him like Shoyo. Only found him as an obstacle to crush.

Wakatoshi reminded Kenjiro. “Use me mercilessly.” He had enough stamina. He needed to be ready to beat the dreams of these foolish crows. As Reon made the ball go up, Wakatoshi struck Kenjiro’s fake set, right at Kei. He stared him down during their fall. He felt himself puff out his chest. He talked with his glowing eyes, as if saying, I can beat you.

Wakatoshi needed to serve again, but at the stupid Libero. He felt his thighs shake as he readied himself. He leaped up high, and hit the net to fool them.

But it didn’t work.

Satori couldn’t block the return attack. And now Karasuno was in the lead. Despite how hard Wakatoshi used his strength to get through the Blond Crow. During Coach’s timeout, Wakatoshi squeezed the pouches the twins had packed for him. Every game. Every practice. The twins packed him a little juice pouch.

He relaxed. His legs really needed to sit. A lot. Despite how tired he was from that run, he caught his breath. Kenjiro asked if he can still be used. He saw his teammate’s red, exhausted faces. This game was worrying them. Karasuno was in the lead.

Wakatoshi agreed with a warm smile. Because now he can win, with real, strong teamwork. Everyone depended on him. “Use me.”

On the court, the Libero saved it from the Samurai crow’s attack. Meaning he can serve, and he- It didn’t count. He tried to push it far. But his shoulder ached. Stupid Shoyo. Too late. He was too quick. Wakatoshi felt his muscles ache, like quiet screams.

This time, he spiked inside. Stupid Shoyo.

Wakatoshi was breathing heavily. But, he looked up, and grunted out of happiness. Stupid Shoyo!! He thought to himself.

Reon served. But, Shoyo made the next point.

Stupid Shoyo.

Wakatoshi smiled though, when Shoyo tried to quick attack, and Satori blocked it. But he didn’t grimace out of disappointment. He only kept thinking.

Stupid Shoyo.

Wakatoshi watched the ball on the next attack. He watched Hinata not jump. His legs froze. Stupid Shoyo. He congratulated Goshiki on the new point, with a nod as he went to the net.

He watched the ball slowly fall as a new play began. Another point-

The Libero. Wakatoshi felt the ball slip through his block. He hated the feeling as he grimaced at the passing and quick sting to his pinky. Wakatoshi stood and watched the Blond Crow figure out their attacks, he couldn’t help but now feel the same sense of annoyance as with Shoyo. He needed to truly show them who was going to win.

The Last Set. Hinata served. They do a minus tempo back attack. Shoyo spiked at Taichi. When he failed, Wakatoshi picked it up and yelled at his server. It’s time. Merciless Attack.

He wanted to hit. He wanted to hit Stupid Shoyo’s face so hard. Kenjiro noted Wakatoshi’s burning fury. Goshiki whimpered under his breath as he ran. But Wakatoshi flew up, and he spiked it to three blockers. But he spiked it right at their setter.

No point. The ball went up.

His nose flared, and he grunted underneath his breath.

Those crows.

Those.

Those damn crows.

THOSE BASTARD CROWS DARED DEFY HIM. HE HAD NEVER FELT SUCH HEAT IN HIS BODY; AS IF LAVA HAD BEEN SPURTING OUT OF HIM IN RAGE. SUCH ANGER INSIDE HIM AS HE SAW THE KARASUNO CROWS WEAKLY FIGHT; SUCH ANGER INSIDE HIM AS HE SAW THE KARASUNO WEAKLY TRY AND CONTINUE TO FIGHT AGAINST HIS STRENGTH. HE WAS PINNING THEM DOWN.

THE BALD CROW PICKED IT UP. CHANCE BALL.

WAKATOSHI COULDN’T STOP. HE NEEDED TO FIGHT.

STUPID SHOYO NEEDED TO LOSE!

This time, Shoyo flew up in the all out quick attack. Wakatoshi saw the ball. Where it went. Down. On his side. He felt his throat being choked, by someone.

Beneath him.

Wakatoshi saw it. He shook Shoyo’s hand and walked away. His face was grim. He saw Coach;s face staring at Shoyo. He noted how Satori was painted, with a tear falling down his face. How Goshiki sobbed. Reon staring at his hand. The Libero panting, his face a bright red.

Wakatoshi heard it. A flat thanks. No one spoke. Except the single mutter, “I thought we couldn’t lose.”

Wakatoshi smelled the salt, he saw the youngest shake and cry, hugging his broad body. A single, disappointed turn from the Coach. A flat, “hit 100 serves when we get back.”

“Wakatoshi, didn’t you get mad?” Satori asked.

Wakatoshi felt his body relax. His inner thigh was being stretched out. He paused. “I wanted to say I am stronger than them. Isn’t that childish? I wanted to say it.”

“Childish reasons are what drives us. What a great game.” A pause. “I’m quitting volleyball. I’m going to watch you on TV and brag about how we were best friends.” Satori giggled. “It’ll be fun to be interviewed about you when you get big and famous!”

21 Karasuno. 19 Shiratorizawa.

He turned away to the bright smiles of the first year duo. The Great Eagles had lost their feathers.

Wakatoshi woke up with a gasp as he held his throat. He panted, beads of sweat dripping down his bare chest. He groaned quietly, and he held his head.

It was a dream. A Dream.

Stupid Shoyo...he had invaded his dreams. And Wakatoshi looked at his left hand. He held the trophy.

He had held the trophy. Not the Karasuno Crows. He did. He touched it. And no one else could ever take that feeling away from him.

Wakatoshi turned on the bath again in his personal restroom, and got in. He sat in complete silence, and he filled the bucket with water. He dumped it upon himself. It was cold. He let his body shiver. He let himself sink as he weakly washed himself.

He heard his dad snore a few rooms down. But the worst thing that Wakatoshi did that night was cry.

☆彡

Wakatoshi knocked on the door to Coach Washijo’s room. “Wakatoshi-kun, come in.”

The boy walked inside, and blinked softly. He wore his school uniform, freshly ironed. “Coach Washijo. May I sit down?”

“Of course.” Wakatoshi pulled out the chair, and sat, he looked at his feet. Coach Washijo sighed, and he looked to the windows. “You know it, hm?”

Wakatoshi nodded. “We do not deserve this trophy.”

“I am already surprised you finished your punishment. I am extremely disappointed by the fact you brought the Chibi-Chan on our school grounds before. And for the game itself, Captain.”

Wakatoshi moved the chairs aside and he got on his knees, bowing his head. “I do not deserve the title as Captain.”

“Neither does anyone else on the team, son. But, I was the one who called you in here,” Coach Washijo went to him, and tapped his back. Wakatoshi slowly got up, and looked down. “I am proud. Don’t tell the others this, Wakatoshi-kun. That was a close game. I need you to practice with everyone. Get everyone ready for the Nationals. You deserve it.”

Wakatoshi bowed. “Thank you, Coach.”

As he left, his mind became fogged. How, how could he have even let himself be seen like that? Coach knew. Coach and he are the only ones, only ones who know the Karasunos were so, so so close to becoming the winners.

So.

Close.

Wakatoshi turned to the restroom quickly, and he began to breathe heavily. He loosened his tie as he stared into the sink. That close. Two points away from his dreams, his father, everything he had known into the sink, washed away because of Shoyo. 

“STUPID SHOYO!”

With the force of thunder, he punched the mirror. He panted, and looked at his reflection. The mirror didn’t shatter. The boy sighed as he turned on the sink, and washed his face. He rinsed it, as the water turned hot. Hot. Hot. Hot-

He held onto the sink, gasping for air. He remembered it. He remembered his mother scrubbing him fiercely with a wood scrubber. “Wakatoshi you need to start scrubbing!” She picked at his hair. “You need to start getting off those dead skin cells!” She ripped off anything that came off him. “Or else no one will like you! You wanna end up like your Dad? I married him out of pity! He was supposed to give me money!”

Wakatoshi held onto the sink, panting again as he washed his face. No. No he did not want to be like his father. Injured. No, that's why he ate well. He treated his body well. Run no less than five laps around the acres. Avoid the tree stump to the right. He could never, ever end up like his dad. 

He threw his head up and panted as he stared at himself. His skin was pink. He felt nothing on his skin. He only sighed. He grabbed the paper towels and wiped his face. He started to cry.

He was so close to ending up like his Dad. Like Tooru. No. He is strong. He got to Nationals.

He’s living his true, and only dream.

Then why is The Miracle Boy panicking?

☆彡

The lunch room was bustled, filled with happy and chattering students from the game that happened a week ago. The chefs served sushi today. Yuri was away in the auditorium for practice.

Wakatoshi ate with his team. Satori smiled. “Wow! Did Yuri give you good luck concerts for their concert, Wakatoshi-kun?”

“No.” he responded, eating a salmon roll after.

Eita sighed, “Well, I hear they’re playing with that new transfer, Choboyo-kun.”

Wakatoshi looked up, and scowled. “Oh.”

“Ooh, Eita-kun you’re going to get Wakatoshi-kun so angry!!” Satori laughed. 

Wakatoshi continued to eat, and he frowned as he looked down. It was one of his worst flaws. Jealousy. Shoyo. Tooru. Despite how they collapsed, how they looked up in anger, he knew they still probably had nice days. Tooru probably was nice with his nephew. Shoyo had hugged his best friends. Wakatoshi had his teammates and the twins. Yuri and he had been dating for a year, four months, and 27 days. The thought of Yuri being with another boy, of course it was rational he would get upset.

Besides, Yuri never told him of anything remotely close to the concert for that night. He continued to eat. He would tell them later.

☆彡

Wakatoshi slammed the ball against the ball in a beat. One two, one two three. He remembered the beat from a lullaby his Uncle Ushijima Hideaki sang to him. He threw the ball up, and ran, staring at the ball. He wanted nothing more, like Left Handing Hideaki, than to show his strength. He hit the other side of the net.

Satori, Goshiki, and Kenjiro were across Wakatoshi. Taichi and Eita were with Wakatoshi. He watched as Satori took the first hit, giving Kenjiro time to serve to Goshiki. Wakatoshi moved with Taichi to go for a block. Wakatoshi jumped early, but blocked Goshiki’s spike.

“One touch!” Taichi yelled. He jumped down, as Wakatoshi quickly caught the ball and moved it up. Eita made a pretty decent set. Wakatoshi did not want to upset him by saying it was much too far from the net, but he jumped.

Satori jumped perfectly. A great timing block. 

Wakatoshi froze. He saw Satori’s crazy blood red eyes flash into the Blond Crow. Wakatoshi smacked down the ball.

“FUCK!”

The game stopped, and everyone went to Satori’s hand. He winced quietly, and he flexed his middle finger. His comrades gasped out of grotesque. “Wakatoshi-kun! Shit-, you do scare me!”

“Sorry.” Wakatoshi panted. He was sweaty. He was sticky and sweaty. He wanted to shower.

“Is everything—?” Coach Saito started.

“Let’s put Hayato in while we practice.” Wakatoshi grabbed the ball, walking over. “We need to make sure we win the next game.”

“Captain, we did win.” Goshiki gently took Satori close, wrapping his fingers with a tape.

Wakatoshi scowled. He didn’t want to admit to his comrades they barely won. Stupid Shoyo almost took away their name of the Great Eagles. But he turned away. “One more game, then Eita and I shall take Satori to Nurse Yui.”

Everyone gave a hesitant agreement. Wakatoshi sighed, he banged the ball against the wooden ground. He looked across the net.

Six players in black and orange uniforms. Goshiki’s hair had faded to the Captain Crow. The foolish Lightning Libero Crow. Kenjiro looked so much like Tobio.

Wakatoshi twitched. He threw the ball up. Not again. Not again. He leaped into the air, and he felt- no he saw Goshiki move. Shoyo. He spiked hard, past Hayato, past Goshiki’s defense, so hard the ball had flown to the ceiling, and had gotten stuck in a beam.

Wakatoshi panted, his muscles spasming, and he looked at Goshiki with anger. He showed him. He showed him he is the strongest. He showed him no matter how hard he would train like Tooru he would not—

Satori gripped his arm. Wakatoshi stopped breathing. His best friend frowned. “Wakatoshi. You won.”

☆彡

Yuri smiled and they held Wakatoshi’s hand. They had been wandering the neighborhood for awhile, and now Yuri was just beginning to look at the music stores and babbling about their new deep desire for something about a gem. They said it would make the music sound crystal clear.

“Is it not clear already?” The boy asked.

“Silly! No!! It needs to be perfect for the concert!”

The concert. Wakatoshi followed them around, and after the eighth story about how they loved little stuffed animals, he asked, “Who is Choboyo?”

“And- huh? Oh! Choboyo-Senpai! He’s in university, so he offered to play with me! He’s a little bit much though...”

Wakatoshi went closer as Yuri continued in telling their story. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yuri looked over and sighed. “Because look at you! Wakatoshi-Chan, you’re slouching. Don’t worry, he’s only in the background of my performance for tomorrow. Now come on! Chin up~! I need to pick out a good outfit for tomorrow! I wanted you to help!”

Wakatoshi was too tired to disagree, despite him having promised his mother to babysit the twins. That morning. He knew Grandmother Nijiko would tell Ms. Ushijima, and he knew he would be subjected to the marsh cleaning, but, seeing Yuri’s smile as they picked out a strawberry shirt for their suit, was enough for him to think;

 “Who cares?”

Wakatoshi was benched. Coach Saito had explained to Wakatoshi that he had to maintain his speed before he could be put back on the court. Which was perfect. During lunch, privately, he practiced. It was better for him then.

No more Karasuno Crows.

But tonight, the concert hall had changed. However, Wakatoshi's face was non wipeable of his scowl. He wore a hand me down of Mr. Utsui’s suit. It smelled horrible. It was stiff.

“Ah~, Yuri-kun!” Choboyo was indeed a young man, with a stubble, messy and sleek white hair, his eyes a never-ending black.

Wakatoshi scowled as he watched Yuri hug him. Yuri wore a lovely green suit, their hair pulled back.

They were so beautiful.

“Choboyo! This is my boyfriend, Ushijima Wakatoshi. He’s a volleyball player- He’s going to the National Championship!”

The young men stared at each other. Wakatoshi nodded. “Good luck.”

“We say break a leg, actually.” He only despised him even more, now. “Come on, Yuri,” Wakatoshi eyed his hand. His right hand lingered on Yuri’s waist, on their shoulders, and on their hands.

Wakatoshi sighed to himself.

Yuri turned. “Is something wrong?” Choboyo also looked, raising a white eyebrow of his. Wakatoshi gripped his fists and he scowled at Choboyo.

“You like Yuri-Chan. My partner.”

“Wakatoshi—!”

“I won’t lie.” Choboyo took his hands off Yuri, “They’re very attractive.”

Wakatoshi widened his eyes. He didn’t expect the man to just admit it. It was almost like he was trying to be a pervert.

“E-excuse us,” Yuri put a hand to Choboyo’s chest. “I-I’ll be right there.” Yuri sighed as Choboyo smirked to himself, kissed their hand, and walked away.

Wakatoshi stepped closer. “Do you not see this? He’s a pervert.”

“It’s one performance,” Yuri said, rubbing their arm. “Don’t you realize this is why I’ve been asking you to be with me? W-why I’ve been playing more around you, and not practicing here? I know.” 

He blinked. He wanted to say something. Anything. He gulped. He blinked. “Yuri-Chan. I do not think you should play with him.”

Yuri looked up with teary eyes. “If you’re not going to be here to support me right now, I-I want you to leave. I can’t do this right now, ‘Toshi. I want to take a break.”

He gulped. “Yuri, perhaps you should think straight. D-don’t—.”

“I’ll see you around.” They turned around, and just like that, Wakatoshi again, was alone.

☆彡

Wakatoshi locked the door behind him. He sat on his bed. It creaked. Across the hall, he heard the twins.

The twins.

He got up as fast as he could, and he went to their room. Everything in the room was painted pink, and had little birds that twittered happily with the characters of bird songs next to their beaks. The room was split into Mayumi’s play space, and then Kazane’s.

Wakatoshi squatted down. 

The twins were on the floor, Mayumi’s foot was in her mouth. Kazane was trying to climb back in her crib. Her left hand was on the crib. Wakatoshi picked up Kazane, and started to hum.

Before he had heard his mother and father fight, he actually wanted to sing. He remembered seeing his father’s sisters all perform and sing. It made him stare in awe. The twirling of their batons, of their voices, their silks. Wakatoshi adored it. He once thought of himself there, dancing.

It was Grandfather Ushijima Touma who frowned at catching him. “Nijiko.” he had stated firmly. “He is pretending to be a daughter.” Wakatoshi had never felt such pain as he did that evening.

But being an artist was worse. That was when they discovered he had a tendency to write with his left hand. Just like the exiled Uncle Hideaki. He was supposedly in Germany.

“You had let him draw?!” cried Ms. Ushijima. Her parents stood next to her. She gripped his hand. “Does this look right to you? Huh, Takashi?!” 

It was only his father. Little, nothing for brains, Mr. Utsui, who stood in front of his son. “He’s just a boy! He’ll use it for-for something great! You just wait!”

Wakatoshi picked up Mayumi as well, and began to hum. He began to quietly sing the lullaby. An old song. It was about change. About the discovery of an island. About how the tide changed with each roll onto the warm sand. Yes, everything to the nude eye was the same, but change happened. With tradition, came slow, but sure, change.

He lifted his baby sisters above him. He teared up. “This forbidden, new world, on a summer day we meet.” Mayumi was the only one awake now. He hummed as he knelt beside her. “On a summer day, we will meet again, Imoto-san.”

“Wakatoshi?” The boy turned, with teary eyes as Mayumi drifted into sleep. Mr. Utsui stood there, his mouth slack open. He closed it. “I didn’t know you sang.”

“Me either.” Wakatoshi stood up.

Mr. Utsui looked away, “Ah- well, Wakatoshi, why don’t we go outside?” He nodded and stood, awkwardly following him outside.

The sun was setting to the west of the Ushijima Acres. Wakatoshi sat on an old swing. Mr. Utsui sat next to him. Wakatoshi made sure not to look at his father; for he smelled horribly.

“Son, I- well, I have some news about you and your sisters.” Wakatoshi looked at him. Mr. Utsui had gained many splotches of white on his face, and wrinkles.

“Yes?”

“I got a job out of Miyagi Prefecture. I’m taking the twins with me. You will continue to live with your mother.”

Wakatoshi paused. He looked out at the sunset. “No.”

Mr. Utsui wheezed out of his age, “I beg your pardon?”

“You have not been here for the divorce. You were not there for Oka-san when she gave birth. You were not there to take care of the girls. You were not even here for me.” Wakatoshi looked at the sun, and it disappeared.

“You do not deserve the twins.”

The boy got up, before he stopped. His shirt was caught on something. He tugged. To no avail. He tugged and he- Wakatoshi had stumbled, back, he was trying to regain himself.

But everything flashed.

Yuri. 

Kazane. 

Mayumi. 

Mr. Utsui.

Ms. Ushijima.

Grandmother Nijiko

Grandfather Touma.

Kei.

Shoyo.

Himself.

Wakatoshi had fallen into the marsh, and he had passed out into the water.

☆彡

Wakatoshi awoke, to Kazane biting his finger. He gasped, and he groaned. He began to gently flex his body, and groan again. “O-oka-san-?”

“Hold still.” Ms. Ushijima scrubbed his body. “You nearly drowned in the lake. Ugh, look at the water! Oka-san!” she cried. She wore a bra- she never wore such things. Sweatpants?

Were Satori’s theories true? Did alternate universes exist?

“Oka-san- agh- I-I cannot-,”

Ms. Ushijima smacked his face. Satori was wrong, alternate universes did not exist. “Still, I said! You banged up your knee pretty badly.”

Wakatoshi sat up, practically leapt up, but he moaned loudly in pain. “N-No, no. No-  O-oka-san- please- I can’t-!”

“Shut up, you’ll heal if you sit still!”

Wakatoshi looked up, and started to cry. “I-I won’t win. Oka-san,” he hugged her, he cried in her neck. “I-I won't a-able to play! I’ll fail at nationals! Tell me!!” He held her tightly as he looked at her.

Ms. Ushijima stared down at her son.

Wakatoshi had clear snot on his upper lip. His tears were salty, and stained his cheeks as they dripped down into the tub. He was only in his bare underwear. The water was marshy. He had a rose colored bruise blossom on his knee.

Ms. Ushijima took his chin. “Listen to me, Wakatoshi. If you sit absolutely still, I’ll see what I can do. Just,” she heard the baby whimper.

“O-oni. . .” one of the twins started to cry.

Wakatoshi sniffled, and he looked at Kazane. Ms. Ushijima gave the baby to him. “Kazane-kun, go comfort your Oni-tan.”

“Oni~!” Kazane wrapped her chubby arms around him, then Mayumi as Ms. Ushijima placed her on him. Mayumi, adorably, finished her sister��s sentence, “tan!”

Wakatoshi smiled, and he softly cried, as Ms. Ushijima lifted up his right leg. “It’s alright, Wakatoshi-tan, I’m here.” She held it with care, and repeated, quietly as she wet some rags, “I’m here.”

☆彡

It was the night of the concert. Wakatoshi wore his school outfit, despite it being the weekend. He told his parents it’s on school grounds. They did not argue.

Goshiki found out about his injury. He had gotten the word out. Wakatoshi had been numb the entire night. He went to bed the night before, sleeping with his sisters in their room. He had awoken to their stuffed animals on his face.

Mr. Utsui chuckled about how their first word was for their elder brother. Grandmother Nijiko spoke nothing as she ate breakfast with him.

Satori sat next to Wakatoshi, wearing a hoodie, and he smiled. “Yuri-kun looks awfully pretty today, huh Wakatoshi-kun~?”

Wakatoshi said nothing. He only looked down. Strangely, he did not want to get up this morning. He did not want to do anything. He felt as if he should retire from life.

The Miracle Boy was supposed to be strong.

Never to get hurt.

And yet, here he was. Pathetically existing next to his family. He did not even mention to them that Yuri did not love him anymore. He did not tell anyone, either, of his sisters moving away from him.

They sat on his lap though, pacifiers in their mouths.

“Wakatoshi-kun, your sisters are so so so cute!” Satori laughed as he picked up Mayumi. She began to whine, aher pigtails bouncing as her blue eyes stared at Satori in fury. She fussed before Wakatoshi gently put her on his lap.

“She does not like to be held from under the arms. Only by her stomach, Despite her being ticklish there, she loves it.”

Satori smiled softly. “You love them a lot. Were they there for you when-?”

Wakatoshi nodded. “Yes. They were born right after. Oka-san was tired. They kept me company.” He paused. “I do not know what to do without them.”

Satori sighed softly, “I understand.”

The lights dimmed. A hush over the audience. The auditorium was huge and packed.

Yuri, and Choboyo came out. Yuri was so uncomfortable. Their eyes looked down at the ground. Choboyo grabbed the microphone. “Thank you, everyone, for our performance tonight! I gotta say- Yuri has something great planned out!”

The two turned to the middle of the stage. Yuri nodded. They held a different violin. It was not theirs.

Choboyo went to his grand piano proudly, and he looked at Yuri’s body, then at their eyes. They both looked at each other, finally, nodded and looked away. After a few seconds, Choboyo started off.

Wakatoshi hated it. He pounded a key, then followed it as if he was trying to sing a love song for Yuri.

Despite the famous classical song, it was still the one Yuri had played what seemed like eons ago. The Swan.

Here it went by the Carnival of Animals.

But Wakatoshi knew what Yuri was trying to replicate. But their music, their bow, the sound made Wakatoshi cringe.

It was not the joy, peaceful, calm song Yuri played in the land. Here, mixed in with Choboyo’s romantic noise; was their song of sorrow. They focused, as if on the music, and not on their own play.

Wakatoshi looked down. Two birds. One defeated. Another attack for more.

The song ended.

Wakatoshi clapped, his hands smacking like thunder, and Yuri looked at him, just for a moment. They went backstage, and the next duo came out. The song was the infamous Clair De Lune.

“Wakatoshi?”

He looked at his dad beside him. Mr. Utsui showered the night before due to falling in the marsh to save Wakatoshi. He had done his hair. He had also shaved.

“Your mother and I talked, we decided that I’ll live here. After my first paycheck I’ll get a good car, so I can drive in and out of the Prefecture. And, son?” Mr. Utsui moved in closer.

Wakatoshi suddenly teared up. When he was little, he remembered exactly how his father smelled when he protected him from the traditional rules that had ached his once frail bones.

Like hot sand.

Mr. Utsui, in that moment, murmured into Wakatoshi’s ear, as the song had ended, “I am so proud you got into Nationals. Keep working hard. Keep getting stronger for us.”

As Wakatoshi’s hot tears fell, he whispered, looking at his father, “T-Thank you, Oto-san.”

☆彡

Wakatoshi had bounced the ball. He stood firmly on his right leg. He breathed in deeply. He eyed his friend across from him, and Mr. Utsui who held the twins. Mayumi was on the sand, babbling and trying to eat it.

“Imoto-san, do not try to eat the sand, okay?” Wakatoshi looked across to his sister.

“Oni~!” Kazane cried with a laugh.

Wakatoshi chuckled, and he gently bounced the ball. The sand underneath his sneakers. His deep and panting breath. He looked at his friend with a soft smile.

Satori panted himself, his red hair sticking to his forehead. He only smiled widely with happiness.

Wakatoshi breathed deeply, and calmed himself.

Satori and he, underneath the midnight moon.

Wakatoshi served. Satori dived under and threw the ball up, before spiking. Wakatoshi, with great speed, blocked and Satori read him. Satori gathered himself again to throw the ball, set, then spike. Now Wakatoshi served it to himself, and he quickly set it. He now went to the left, and spiked hard right. Satori tried to follow for a moment, before he watched the ball slam beside him. Satori, however, blocked enough to make a dump. Wakatoshi nodded.

A great defense.

Satori smiled with a small breath of relief, “Wakatoshi-kun, I love playing with you, but you scare me.”

The young man smiled as he went underneath the net to get it. “I try my best to be a Strong Monster as well.”

“How scary!” Satori gasped, and Wakatoshi took the ball. He spun the ball as Mr. Utsui cheered happily.

“Go Wakatoshi-kun!”

“Are you okay? I know your dad is back.” Satori said quietly.

Wakatoshi turned around. “It’s okay. I-I’m not happy he is back.”

Satori widened his eyes. “Oh?”

Wakatoshi sat beside him against the barn. The Ushijima space was so peaceful now. Not in a flash as he usually saw it. Wakatoshi took a deep breath again. “He came to announce he lost his job. He told me he was happy and I was happy. Not that he was proud.” Wakatoshi began to practice throwing the ball up and setting, as if it was instinct. “I was thinking. I am not happy. We nearly lost, Satori.”

His friend looked up at the stars. “I wanted to quit after that game.”

Wakatoshi stopped. He looked at his friend. “But you have so much—,”

“Those memories won’t stop flowing. Once we win nationals, Wakatoshi-kun, that’s when I’ll stop. Seeing your smile hold that big, big trophy, that’s when I’ll quit. Because then you won’t need me, and I won’t need you anymore.” Satori smiled. “I love you.”

Wakatoshi opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it. He closed his eyes, before he looked at Satori. “I love you too, Satori. Thank you for being by my side.”

They both, slowly, turned to gaze at the stars.

“So, you’ll recommend me for a movie interview, right Wakatoshi-kun?”

“Perhaps.”

☆彡

Snow drifted down. It fell against Yuri’s umbrella.

“Wait!”

Yuri stopped walking, and took out their earbuds as they turned around. They widened their eyes. “Wakatoshi-ch-? What are you- Why are you running?” Yuri started.

Wakatoshi winced, and he sighed. He hid a huge dandelion bouquet behind his back, with a small box.

“Yuri-Chan.” the young man panted, “I-I am not the strongest. I lost a lot of things in the past few days. I gained some of them back.” He showed the bouquet, and the box.

“I should have focused on you, my flower. On your music. I went to your concert. You did not practice, did you? It is alright. I do not want to jump back to our relationship if you are not ready. I believe we should go back to the beginning, Yuri-Chan. If you like, we can go back to my farm, and I can listen to you play, and play, and play until we fall asleep.”

Wakatoshi, after a moment, opened the box. There was Yuri’s dream sapphire blue rosin. One swipe, said the ad on it, and the bow is brand new.

“I will always love you. But I was not okay. Now, if you take me back, I will be. Then I will never break that promise.”

Yuri looked at his big tearful eyes. “I love you, stupid!” Yuri cried and they jumped on him, tackling him. The couple held each other, with laughter and deep chuckles as they cuddled close in the soft winter wind. In an act of warmth, Yuri hugged. In an act of love, Wakatoshi kissed. 

The couple was late for their classes that morning.

☆彡

Wakatoshi rinsed his face in the sink, lightly with cold water. Goshiki stood beside him by making faces. Reon patted the youngster’s back, and laughed. Eita instructed, but also listened to Kenjiro. Satori sang to himself.

The clinking of the lights above the young man began to go into a rhythm. His eyes tilted up, and he blinked. Once. Twice. And again.

He, and his teammates, were in a full purple volleyball outfit. The Number One on his shirt was bold white. His muscles flexed gently when he looked at his short olive hair. His eyes glimmered seeing where he was. How he was there.

The young man smiled to himself.

“Great Eagles.” The young man who played volleyball said, “Let’s finish this.”

[kvj-novels]

Senku x fem named!reader

Hello! I’m currently obsessed with Dr. Stone and in love with a leek-haired man sO i kinda wanted to write a fanfic and in literally 12 hours I’ve written 10k+ words and I’m not even done yet oops

Rating: this chapter is E for everyone though there is some mild language

Warnings: this fic has elements of smut and a mention of eating disorders THIS CHAPTER DOES NOT CONTAIN THE CONTENT WITH THESE WARNINGS.

Summary: Imogen has been awakened from petrification but she suffers from amnesia upon waking up. Senku and Taiju - her lover and childhood friend (respectively) before the petrification - must do their best to help her recall her past life.

Smut summary: soft sex, first time, no warnings but very NSFW.

Chapter One

The first thing I felt was a cracking, like my skin was peeling off. My mind was waking up from a deep slumber as this feeling continued. I desperately wanted to scratch but my limbs wouldn’t move.  A crack of sunlight blinded me and all at once I felt my body release from some  kind of shell. The cracking and itching stopped. I opened my eyes. 

Two kind faces stared at me. 

The second thing I felt was the cold breeze on my skin. I looked around for a moment, noting the forest of trees before settling back on the kind faces.  The last thing I felt before I suddenly felt everything all at once, was the need to vomit. I turned, doubling over on to my hands and knees and hurled at the ground behind me. 

“Oh my,” a woman spoke. “take it easy.” She put a hand on my back. “You’ve been asleep for a long time. This reaction is common so don’t be scared.” A cloth came into my view, I took it and wiped my mouth, then turned back to the two people.  A woman with blonde hair and green eyes.  A man with black hair and brown eyes. He grinned at me, apparently unphased by my horrible first impression.  “I’m Chrome.” He said, then pointed to the woman. “This is Ruri.” She smiled and waved. “I know this all probably seems much different from what you last remember, do you have any questions?” I stared blankly. “Where...am I?” My throat burned as I spoke. The acid from the vomit still lining my throat.  “You’re in Japan.” She said. “Though it has been 3,700 years from the last time you saw it.” “Do you have a name?” The man named Chrome asked.  I opened my mouth to spit out my name because of course I had one.

Didn’t I?

I closed my mouth, my teeth clamping together. I couldn’t remember.  The smiles on the two strangers faces faded. Ruri put a hand on my shoulder.  “Do you remember what happened to you?” She asked.  I looked down to think. A pile of rock surrounded my feet and a vague memory of a green light crawled into my head. Nothing more.  I shook my head.  “We should go back,” Ruri said to the man.  “Oh, but we have two more on schedule to wake up.” Chrome responded.  “But we’ve never encountered something like this, Chrome. Senku would know what to do and I don’t want to frighten her any more.” Chrome thought for a moment. “You’re right. Let’s head back to camp for the others and we’ll leave for home from there.” Ruri turned back to me, her kind smile lighting up her face again. “Will you trust us? We’ll take you home and have our friend help you. He’ll cure your mind I promise.” I didn’t see why I couldn’t trust them. I shook my head and took the woman’s hand when she offered it to me.  “What would you like us to call you until you can remember your real name?” She asked. They walked together and I followed, my bare feet stumbling over the forest floor.  “I..I don’t know.” “Mm, I say we call you Emerald.” Chrome said, a hand on his chin. I looked over at him confused.  “Your eyes,” he clarified. “they’re a very deep green like an emerald.” Then he smiled. “Emmy for short if you like.” I nodded. “Emerald is fine, it’s kinda pretty.” I gave a half hearted smile. We walked together for a while until we made it to a camp. Chrome was enthusiastically telling me about their adventures. Unpetrifying people. Fighting off villains.  It all sounded a bit ridiculous. But Ruri confirmed everything. And with a much more solemn attitude. Only because of her did I actually think Chrome’s tales were true.  At the camp a handful of people sat around a fire. Some food was cooking over the flame.  “These are people that we unpetrified just before you. They only just woke up themselves. One only since this morning.” Ruri said quietly, stopping a few yards away from the camp. “Do they all remember?” She shook her head. “We’ve not had anyone who didn’t remember.” I frowned a bit.  “Don’t worry!” She said in a voice that was desperate to keep someone happy. “I’m sure Senku can give you the cure all drug to help.” She brushed a strand of my hair back behind my ear and led me into the camp.  “Emerald!” A woman called out. “Chrome says that’s your name right?” I gave a tentative nod. “Come sit with me, we’ve got dinner cooked.” I sat by the fire with her, definitely grateful for some food. She handed me a bowl and looking down at it, the sight filled me with a warmth.  I smiled, almost crying.  “What’s wrong?” The woman asked.  “I know this food...” I said softly. “Ramen...I remember it.” “That’s great, Emerald!” Ruri said as she sat down with us. “Maybe things will come back slowly, just give it time.” “What’s the matter?” The woman asked, still confused.  “Emerald doesn’t remember what happened to her and nor does she know her real name.” Ruri said.  “Amnesia?” The woman said. “Damn...that’s gonna be rough.” I sat quietly and ate the ramen, listening to the people talk. They all introduced themselves differently throughout dinner.  The men were Hiro, Benni and Jackson. The woman who offered me food was Hinata.  Once dinner was finished, Chrome announced that we would be leaving for home once we got everything packed up. He said we weren’t too far and if we could manage, we’d be there by morning.  The group agreed.  “What’s the hurry for?” Hiro asked.  “We need to get Emerald to Senku.” He simply said. I did my best to help everyone pack up but I had no clue what went where. And my body seemed pretty sluggish. Ruri had the most patience with me. She only smiled and said it was alright.  We set out very shortly after eating. Everything was packed tightly into backpacks that the men carried. Chrome was leading the party through the forest. He never faltered even as the sun set and night time creeped in.  Several hours into the journey we came to a small clearing in the forest. Chrome stopped. “Grab the blankets and take a bit of a break.” He said. “It’s getting pretty cold tonight so rest up and warm up for a few hours. We’ll begin again after that.” The men passed out the blankets but kept everything else packed. Chrome started a small fire to help everyone warm up a bit. I sat by the fire with the blanket. My body was tired but my brain was running at a thousand miles per hour. I wanted to sleep but every time I closed my eyes I remembered the darkness that I was only just brought out of and without even realizing, my eyes would be open again. Staring at the flames.  Some time went by and Chrome woke from his nap. He woke everyone else, put out the fire and we began again. 

With the moon setting in the horizon I saw a village in the distance lit up by small flames on a tall pole. We were close.

*********

Tag list: @viskafrer @bee-cakes Please DM me if you like to be added to the tag list!

[clouditae]

D*ck-N-Out

Taehyung x reader | 18+ | oneshot | fast food worker au | smut | fluff | swearing

Lovely banner maker: @chillingtae

Lovely beta: @jinned​

Word count: 10k

Sometimes you never know how much you’re craving something until you get that first taste, and you’re tasting plenty in the back of your local In-N-Out restaurant

Fast F*cking Food Masterlist

You pull into your parent’s driveway, their red brick and blackish gray shingles looking like it did when you left for college two years ago. It’s not big compared to the other houses, but when you first moved in at the age of thirteen, it was the biggest house you’ve ever lived in. Now, it’s just a home that contains so many memories, you hope your parents never move. 

Turning off the ignition, you gather your bag and phone before exiting your car. The second you step out you can hear your mom’s high pitch cheers as you turn to watch her run down the steps and towards you with arms wide open. She’s smiling wide and happily as she brings you into the tightest hug you’ve ever been in.

“My baby’s home,” she cries, swaying the two of you side to side.

You let out a choked laugh as you pat her back. “Hi, Mom.”

She separates from you, cupping your cheeks as she plants your face full of kisses. “I’ve missed you so much,” she says.

“I’ve missed you, too,” you tell her, relieved she finally let you go long enough for your dad to bring you into a warm hug that isn’t tight like your mom’s. “Hi, Dad.”

He places a kiss at the top of your head as he mumbles, “Hi, sweetie.” As the two of you break your hug, he adds, "Let's get your bags." You watch him as he goes to the back of your trunk and opens it, pulling out your large suitcase and two smaller bags. You go to help him, but your mom is eager to take you inside and talk your ear off about everything you've already heard over the phone.

"How was your drive? Did you eat breakfast already? Lunch? I heard Theo came back into town as well. Did you see him along the way?" she pries, leading you into the living room and into the spacious kitchen where she plants you on the wooden chair at the table. She gets to work on getting you something to drink and most likely a snack.

Theo. One of the boys from high school you know, but more importantly, he’s the son of your mom’s best friend whom she has known for years. Your mom always wanted you and Theo to get together. She consistently tried her best to get you to go on dates together when they would come over for dinner, or the three of you would be over at their place. Even Mrs. Bonet tried her best a few times because she absolutely adored you. The funny thing is, the two of you did give it a shot at the good ol’ age of fourteen. Clearly the two of you weren't ready to date yet, but with the ideas your moms gave, the two of you couldn't help but see. It didn't work back then, and it won't work now.

"I didn't see him. I haven't seen him since we graduated," you say slightly irritated, looking towards the front door to see your dad place your luggage next to the front door as he closes it and makes his way towards the two of you. He takes a seat across from you as your mom places two glasses of water in front of the both of you.

"Well that's a shame. Especially when the two of you go to the same university," she mumbles, taking a seat next to your dad as she rests her arms on the table. Theo, Theo, Theo—you might as well date him if it’ll mean never having her push you two together so hard. "So, tell me everything," she says with enthusiasm, changing the subject completely and bringing you out of your rant. 

By the time you're done telling her the same story she's heard every day, you grab your luggage and make your way towards your old bedroom. You unpack and message a few friends of yours before taking a quick nap. It isn't until you hear a knock at your door that you wake up to the sky turning a pinkish orange. The door opens and your mom's head pops in. "Are you hungry?"

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you give a small nod as you sit up. "Yeah. What did you make?"

"I haven't gone shopping, so I was wondering if you were in the mood for some In-N-Out."

"In-N-Out?" Your hand drops to your lap as you frown in confusion. "That's here?"

The door fully opens as she enters the room with excitement in her eyes. "Yes! They opened it about a month ago, and it's always packed, but it's really good!" She claps her hands with glee. "Would you like that for dinner?"

You can tell she really wants you to have it, and you've heard a lot of people talk about it as they open up restaurants in neighboring cities. So, you nod, climbing out of your bed as you reply, "I'll go get it."

"That's okay, sweetie. You drove for four hours already, you don't need to drive for the rest of the day," she says, as you begin to put on your shoes and grab your wallet.

"It's fine, Mom. I haven't been here for almost a year. I want to see what's changed and where this new fast food place is at." You decide, walking with her out of your room and down the hall towards the front door. "Just send me the address and what you want."

After a few more minutes of back and forth conversations, you finally managed to get on the road and follow the directions to the new restaurant. You take the familiar roads you've taken since you were a kid. Things have upgraded and changed over the past year, but the familiarity of certain stores and spots you’ve hung out at have stayed the same. Down this street you had your first kiss with a boy named Seungi. You remember the two of you sitting at a bench eating ice cream in a somewhat awkward silence. The two of you had nothing to say really, until he broke that silence saying you had leftover ice cream on your lips. Before you could wipe it, he leaned in and kissed you. It was the cutest first kiss. A memory you will never forget.

 Little pieces of memories flood your thoughts as you continue down the road until the GPS instructs you to turn right at the upcoming stop light.

In the strip mall, you can see an unfamiliar building nestled at the corner next to a McDonalds. The line for In-N-Out is exactly like your parents explained it to be. Long. You pull into the lot and, with your eyes, follow the line of cars waiting to have their orders taken until you find the back of the line, several stores down. Letting out a sigh, you blast the AC, pull out your phone and begin to reply to your group chat of friends.

[Thursday, August 6th, 6:25pm] Ahyeon: We're meeting up right? We have to! All of us are finally in town!!!

[Thursday, August 6th, 6:26pm] Kim: Yes! There’s a reunion party at Toby’s place. Everyone is going so we should meet up there and see everyone we actually liked in high school. I hope the popular ones look like garbage.

[Thursday, August 7th, 6:28pm] Bean: I’m sooo down. Y/N definitely needs to go! She’s the only single one in this group and needs to find a bf or at least get laid

[Thursday, August 7th, 6:29pm] Lain: Single Y/N needs to get pussy tingled~

You send a message to argue your reason for being single. College is more important to you, and your roommate is failing her classes because she’s always with her boyfriend and skipping classes. You’re not looking to do that. 

You agree to meeting up at the party as the line moves ever so slowly. It’s about twenty minutes later of texting the group and defending yourself as much as possible, inching the car forward, that you’re finally at the speaker. The menu is extremely short. Three meal items to choose from—to which they’re basically all the same with an exception of do you want cheese, no cheese, or a double pattie, and a few side items to get. So which one do you want? One, two or three?

"Welcome to Dick-N-Out can I take your order?" the voice says through the speaker.

You blink a few times, registering if the guy on the speaker just said dick. "I'm sorry?"

"Welcome to In-N-Out. Can I take your order?" he repeats.

“Oh. Uh”–you glance at the paper your mom gave you of their orders and read it to him. They have jungle fries? Why is it a secret? Taking quick glances at the menu, you quickly pick your order and let him know you’re done with his three item menu. He repeats it back, tells you the price before you scoot your car forward, being short of reaching the first window due to the car in front of you preventing you from going further. Quickly digging in your wallet for your money, you realize you're a few dollars short and decide on using your card. The car in front of you moves forward and so do you, pulling to a stop at the first window.

You can’t see the man's face as he has his back to you, appearing to be talking with someone in the back before he turns his attention towards you. And you swear you feel like you are going to throw up right then and there. To your surprise, a familiar face opens the small window, a look of boredom written all over his sculpted face, dark brown eyes dull and annoyed to be here. Taehyung. “Twenty-One even,” he says, deep voice silky and sending a familiar warmth throughout your body.

You hand him a card, watching him carefully, but not obviously as you wonder if he remembers you the way you instantly remember him. You’ve known him since middle school, and you’ve been in almost every class with him all through high school–hell you were even his project partner once. But he’s Taehyung. He was the most popular guy in school and always had the girls and guys–everyone swooning over him. You happen to have been one of those people swooning over him. He won’t remember you–you weren’t popular in high school and you’re definitely not his type. Girls like Allison are his type: pretty blonde with that cute smile and bubbly personality. You’re not his type, so of course he won’t remember you. You were just another girl in a sea of others.

“Here you go,” he says, cutting you off from your thoughts. You take the card and thank him, doing your best to not sound dejected from your own comments. “Have a nice night,” he says before closing the window and going back to work at taking another customer’s order.

Yup. Another girl.

After getting your food and drinks, you thank the worker before taking off and heading back to the house. You’re going to have to call your friends tonight to ask them about Taehyung. You could have sworn he went off to some university in New York or something, so why is he working here when his parents are loaded and he has money from working with his dad? So many questions and not enough time to ask on this short ten minute drive.

You're lying in bed after finishing dinner and watching a movie with your parents. You can’t deny that the food was good. You also can’t deny that you’re shocked they don’t put salt on the fries but on the side in little packets for you to put on. In your honest opinion they taste better without it, and there’s a lot they give you.

What you can’t get over is life playing a little game on you within those few minutes of talking with your friends since leaving the drive thru. First they tease you for being single and saying you need to have sex like you haven’t had sex in years–in your defense, it’s only been a year and it’s not eating you up like people say it should. You got busy with school and just don’t have time to find a fling. Then at the speaker you could have sworn you heard him say Dick-N-Out instead of In-N-Out. You weren’t imagining it because you suddenly got in the mood to be dicked down. And then Taehyung, your crush of four plus years is working the drive thru and taking your order. What kind of messed up game is that?

You tried to get a hold of your friends, but they were busy and said they’ll all get together for a call either tomorrow night or the next morning. So, you’ll have to wait to spill the beans as to what happened at In-N-Out today. For now you can just scroll through social media to find out what he’s been up to. Find out if he’s still with Allison or not. God you hope not. She’s nice and everything, but she is the biggest bitch you’ve ever met.

Clicking on the app almost everyone is on, you begin your research. You don’t know his username so you’ll have to go through friends of friends to find him, but who first? You click on Emi’s, her being the most active and social out of the group, she’s bound to be friends with half the school. You scroll through her friend’s list until you find Mason, captain of the soccer team. Well, former captain. He was good friends with the quarterback of the football team. Clicking on him, bits and pieces of memories of him come back. He was super sweet, something you don’t expect when it comes to the quarterback after so many stereotypical movies involving them. Jason Seagull, he called himself–strange name, but people loved it. Continuing, you go further and further into the sea of popular students you know until you find her. 

Allison.

There’s no way she’s not friends with Taehyung, so you click on her profile, browsing through her page. There’s photos of her at the beach, some sappy ‘I love my life’ crap for the caption, a few photos of her with her friends you recognize, and very little of her at her university–something she bragged about your final year in school. All because it’s an Ivy League. There’s no photos of her and Taehyung within the past year, so your guess is that they’re not together. You keep scrolling and scrolling until you find a photo that you’ve been looking for but still makes your heart jump.

Taehyung and Allison are at some party, people in the background as he carries her on his back. She has her arms wrapped around his neck loosely, her cheek pressed against his as they both smile widely and looking perfect. He still looks the same now as he did in the photo you're staring at. Chestnut curls falling over his forehead and brushing along the tip of his ears, dark brown eyes always a mystery you wish to uncover, and a boxy grin plastered on his face. You didn't see his smile, but you know it's always there when he's happy.

Reading her post on it, you click on his tagged name, feeling your heart race as it takes you to his page. There's photos of him everywhere; the beach, a cafe, at an art museum and so many more places. You continue to scroll down until you find a photo of him at what looks like his university. So, he's still going to school, and your guess is his school ends earlier than yours. You're nosy for another fifteen minutes until exhaustion kicks in and you're slowly falling into a deep slumber.

It's been over a week since you've been home and you're currently getting ready for the party your friends have been pestering you to go to. You'd prefer to meet them at one of their houses, but they're dedicated to partying together. They want to see everyone from high school and see you at the same time. You really don't have a choice but to agree.

Jumping into your jeans, buttoning and zipping it closed, you do a once over in the mirror. Deciding you look great, you slip on a pair of boots, grab your bag that matches your black top, and head out your bedroom. You head towards the living room where your parents sit on the sofa watching a movie. They look over their shoulder when you say, "Okay. I'll be back later tonight. I might stay at Bean's tonight, but I'll let you guys know later." As you grab your key off the hook you say your goodbyes and head out the door.

Closing the front door and locking it, you can hear a car pull up beside the curb. There's a honk as you turn around to see a familiar dark green car parked in front of your house. All four doors open and your friends pile out of the car cheering as they run to you and bring you into a group hug. You chuckle as you greet your friends, finally separating from them to get a clear view of their faces. Ahyeon, Lainey, Emi, Bean and Kim look like they did when you six graduated high school. Beautiful, young and full of life.

"Y/N, you look as beautiful as ever!" Kim says, cupping your cheeks and squeezing them.

"You guys look amazing, too," you compliment, rubbing your cheeks lightly when she finally let go.

"Ready to party?" Emi asks, wiggling her body in excitement.

"Let's party!" Lainey cheers, grabbing you and Bean's hands, dragging you towards Bean's car. The other girls cheer as they follow, all six of you pilling into the car. With the music blasting, the vehicle starts forward and towards the destination.

It takes around half an hour to get to the party where there are cars lined up and down the street, people standing outside the house, laughing and chatting. It takes Bean a minute to find a spot to park her car, but she finally manages to get a spot rather close to the house. Getting out, you fix your top clear of wrinkles as you drape your bag on your shoulder and follow your group of excited friends. Ahyeon loops an arm through yours as she smiles at you and walks alongside you down the sidewalk.

As you reach the party house, you immediately see a few faces you recognize. They notice your group and smile, a loud "hello" can be heard over the blasting music. You try your best to say hi as you're dragged into the building, the music louder than you thought. The pop music is blaring through the house, the vibrations running up your body through your feet and your eardrums rattle with every beat. Everything smelled of alcohol, sweat and there’s a faint smell of pizza. There are dozens of bodies within the confined spaces of the house. You can see them lining the stairs, the hallway and a few heading out the back door. 

“Let’s party!” Bean screams, grabbing hold of an excited Lainey as the two make their way through the large crowd and towards the kitchen where the alcohol must be. You shake your head as the rest of your group laughs and the four of you follow in suit. Reaching the kitchen and the line of ice chests that held all types of alcohol, Bean passes out bottles that she knows each one of you likes. 

Kim takes a light pink one, the words “Soju” written in fine print on the bottle as Emi happily takes a dark green bottle muttering, “Finally, someone has class in this place,” as she twists the cap to her gin and tonic. You watch as Ahyun eyes Kim’s drink curiously before requesting the drink, Bean happily giving your friend the same beverage.

Lainey is digging through the fridge for a bit before she triumphantly pulls out a carton of chocolate milk. “I’ve got the goods,” she calls out in satisfaction. 

Finally, Bean digs further into the ice chest before pulling out two bottles of Svedka and hands you one. You take it, reading the title again. It’s strawberry lemonade flavored Vodka. It looks like the bottle should be split between people, but you happily twist the cap open knowing she has no intention of sharing hers and expects the same from you and you hold out the glass towards the center for a “cheers!” before taking a swig of the rather delicious content. 

It doesn’t take long before you surprisingly finish your first bottle, not feeling much yet as you toss the cap to your second into the bucket pile of bottle caps and head outside for some fresh air. In the far off distance of the backyard, you can see a table with two empty chairs. Everyone who is in the backyard is swimming in the pool, sitting at the available chairs closer to the stereo and cases of alcohol. 

Making your way around the pool and running people, you walk past the small rose garden the owner of the house created. You hope no drunk idiot ruins such beauty. Taking a seat at the table, you take another drink of your beverage, feeling the cool liquid slide down your throat, your cheeks warm and slightly pink. As you watch the partygoers dance the night away, you begin to think of where they were in high school. Who was the jock, the cheerleader, the band kid and so on. It amazes you how people don’t see that status now—how the once popular girl is holding hands with the basketball player, their smiles bright and happy. 

You feel a tinge of jealousy as another couple practically go at it in the corner of the yard, their hands all over each other while a few people yell at them to take it somewhere else. You never took a chance at dating in school because you were so focused on finishing with the highest grades possible. You got valedictorian, a 4.0 GPA and wanted to get into the best school possible and enjoy life in college. You did… to an extent. You haven’t had a boyfriend in a while and, much to your dismay at agreeing with your friends, you haven’t had a fling in longer time than that. Being home could mean having that chance to go crazy. The question is whether you’ll do it or not.

A figure appears at the chair next to you. You look up and see Taehyung standing there, a half empty bottle in his hand. He’s looking off at the partygoers as he asks, “This seat taken?” 

“No,” you reply, voice small and can be barely heard over the blaring speakers. 

Taehyung takes a seat, his attention finally on you as he takes another swig of his bottle—its content now a quarter full. His eyes are half lidded, cheeks a shade of pink and smells of a woodsy spring lingers around him with a mixture of alcohol. He sets his beverage on the table and asks, “Didn’t I see you at the drive-thru the other day?”

You stumble over your words, taken by surprise. He actually recognized you. “Uh, yeah. That was me,” you answer, voice still small and not as confident as you hope it would be. 

“We went to Bayside,” he states matter of factly—tone not even showing a hint of questioning. 

"Yeah," you begin, shifting in your seat a bit, "we did. We had art together our senior year."

He's quiet for a moment as he studies you, his eyes looking from your eyes to a different body part on your face. You wonder if he's trying to remember seeing you in class. He sat at the back to the right while you sat at the front on the left side of class. You could never get a good look at him through all the students sitting in between, so Taehyung definitely could not see you.

"We had math the year before that, too." You think back for a moment, trying to remember if he's right. "You sat in the middle by Nathan," he informs, and then it clicks. He's right. The two of you had math together. He sat in the front—three people in front of you. You're honestly surprised he remembers that.

"Yeah," you mutter, tone clearly shocked.

He grabs his bottle and takes a final drink. "Why do you sound so shocked?"

"I-uh-I just wasn't expecting you to remember something like that," you confess.

He hums. "It's hard to forget someone like you," he says, standing up from his seat. "I'm gonna go grab another one. You want another?" he asks, gesturing to your beverage.

"Oh-uh, yes please," you answer. You watch him make his way towards the house, giving small nods to the people who greeted him in slurs. As he disappears, his comment lingers in your thoughts. What does he mean by you being hard to forget? Is that a good thing or a bad thing? You’re not sober enough to think hard on this, but you can’t help but wonder what he means. Maybe you should ask.

“Here you go,” Taehyung says, interrupting your thoughts. Blinking, you take the bottle, watching him as he uncaps his drink and takes a seat. “Which school did you end up choosing?”

“What?” How much does he know about you? Is it possible that he’s guessing you decided to go to college? 

“You talked a lot with your friend”—he snaps his finger, eyes looking above you in thought as he tries to remember a name—“I can’t remember her name—she’s blonde, hair short to her shoulders…”

“Bean?” you question, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah. Bean,” he confirms, leaning back in his seat. “You talked a lot with her during art about the universities you applied to. You’re super smart, so I’m wondering which school you decided to go to.” 

Seems like he just knows a lot more than you thought. Hell, you never thought he’d take interest in your options when you first applied, let alone ask about it now. 

“I decided to go to Sloan,” you answer, finishing your drink in your hand before placing it on the table and grabbing your new one. “What about you?”

He rubs his eye slowly, clearly tired and drunk. “I stuck around and went to Bayside, but I just transferred, so I’m heading to Seatree in January.” 

Your brows raise in surprise. “Congratulations,” you tell him. “That’s a difficult school to get into.” Seatree is number three in ranking of Ivy Leagues—better than the one here. Getting into a university like that takes a lot of hard work. You hold out your bottle towards him. “To your acceptance,” you say.

He brings his drink to yours, clinking it and says, “To you getting out of here.”

The two of you talk for a while. You talk about high school, the professors you hate, what your future goals are, and so much more. You’ve never had a conversation last this long with Taehyung. You’re enjoying every bit of it. 

He chuckles shaking his head. “He just pulled his pants down and that was it,” he says. 

You laugh, wiping a fallen tear from the corner of your eye. “I can’t believe he did that. All to avoid having to take a final?”

“Yup. That bastard made up a lie and got a way with it. He took the final later and had enough time to study and pass the class.” He finishes his last bottle, placing it on the corner of the table filled with the rest of the empty glasses you two created. “There are so many more stories I can tell you,” he adds, shaking his head at all the stories that are possibly running through his mind right now.

“I’d love to hear them,” you slur, smiling like the biggest idiot in the world. You would love to have been there for half the stories he’s already told you. 

He smiles his heart winning smile and states, “It’s a shame we didn’t talk in high school. There are so many stories I could have told you that I don’t remember.” 

Your smile lessens to a small one. You look down at your empty bottle. “You and I are from two different worlds, the platform to connect us doesn’t exist.”

He hums in disagreement, earning your attention. You watch him as he looks from the crowd slowly growing smaller, then he looks towards you. “Talking with you would have been worth it.” 

Your mouth opens lightly, obviously surprised by his statement. What does he mean by that? That sentence has a lot of conclusions, and you don’t know which one to take. You’re too intoxicated to deal with these questions right now—especially when he’s saying all these words that make your heart flutter and bring up familiar feelings you had forgotten all those years ago when you graduated high school and never saw Taehyung again.

Maybe you should ask him on a date. Ask him to one night where it’s just the two of you like you wanted to when you first realized your feelings for him. Maybe today will be the day where he says ‘yes’.

“Y/N!” Kim’s voice calls from across the yard. You look towards her and the rest of your friends. “We’re leaving,” she yells, hands cupped over her mouth. 

You get up, grabbing as many empty bottles as you can. “Guess it’s time for me to go,” you tell him when you can carry no more. “Nice talk,” you add. Saying your ‘goodbye’ you turn and leave, making your way towards the waiting group. 

“I’m always working night shifts,” he shouts. You stop in your tracks and turn to look at him. He looks confidently drunk as he says, “I always close alone—best time to visit.” 

You’re grateful for your already red cheeks because you are blushing so hard right now. You say nothing and turn around, closing the gap between you and your friends. They all eye you with smirks on their faces. 

“Was our little Y/N hanging out with Taehyung?” Ahyeon teases, waving her finger at you. 

“From what I saw, Taehyung was flirting with her,” Lainey adds, her brows raising in a knowing manner. 

“He wasn’t flirting,” you counter, shaking your head as you head towards the barrels running along the wall of the back of the house. “He was being polite.” You dump all the bottles in one of the empty barrels. 

“He basically told you when he gets off work. He’s waiting for you to show up and give him the best sex of his life,” Bean states, crossing her arms over her chest. She knows you best, but she doesn’t know Taehyung, and he is definitely not waiting for you to have sex with him. 

You roll your eyes in slight annoyance. “Who’s driving?” 

“I am, party pooper,” Lainey answers, tone clearly bummed you’re not letting them have their fun with teasing. 

“Let’s order pizza and watch movies,” you say, hoping your suggestion will bring the group’s mood up a little. Thankfully it does and Lainey drives you all to Bean’s house where you have your own party in her basement and finally crash around sunrise. 

You’re debating with yourself as you lie in bed on a Wednesday afternoon. The sun is setting, giving your room an orange like glow to the white walls. Since you last saw your friends, and after their constant drunk teasing—well, besides Lainey who only drank chocolate milk the entire party, you are honestly considering whether you should go back to In-N-Out and see what happens with Taehyung. 

Sure you almost asked him out, but you were completely drunk and had so much more confidence than you do now. You’re sober and practically pushing away those thoughts. 

If fate wants you to go and ask him out, then it needs to appear before you now and tell you to do it. Yup. Fate needs to hurry up and show you this sign.

Your stomach growls, interrupting your thoughts. Climbing out of bed, you head out of your room and towards the kitchen. Your parents went to a party with their friends, so they'll be coming home late. You're on your own for dinner. Opening the fridge, your eyes scan for something to eat. You stand there for a bit, but nothing looks appealing. A small realization hits.

Is this the sign? Is this the sign telling you to go to In-N-Out?

You contemplate for a bit, trying to think of excuses to not go and see him, but you're not convincing yourself hard enough. In fact, you're telling yourself to dress up and head over there and see him.

The next thing you know, you're in your room looking for something cute to wear. You grab a mustard yellow sweater and light blue jeans. Slipping them on, you begin to do your make-up over and over until you're satisfied with it and you almost believe a professional did it rather than you. You went light on the eyes with a bit of brown and yellow eyeshadow and the darkest red lipstick you have. Fixing your hair just a bit, you're finally satisfied with yourself and get up from your vanity chair and go to your closet to grab a grey coat that stops close to your ankles. You dig further into your closet until you find a pair of forest green colored heeled boots and put them on. When everything is complete you do a once over in the mirror before heading out your room and down the hall.

Grabbing your bag and keys, you head out the front door, locking it and entering your car. Putting your car in reverse, you drive out of your driveway and down the street towards Taehyung's workplace.

What are you going to say when you get there? Are you just going to ask him out immediately? Strike up a conversation at first, get him interested in the conversation and then ask him out? What are you going to do? Say? What's the startup topic you're going to begin with?

With all the thoughts running through your mind, you didn't even realize that you made it to the restaurant and you're currently in the parking lot staring at the building a few feet away from where you're parked. You take in a few deep breaths and gather up the courage to exit your car. With your bag's strap draped over your shoulder, you clutch it tightly and begin your walk across the parking lot and towards the entrance doors.

When you enter the building, it's not as packed as you thought it would be. Your guess is because it's almost ten o'clock and no one really has dinner around this time. Walking up to the cash register, Taehyung is nowhere to be seen. Is today his day off? Did you fuck up already?

The man behind the cash register looks you up and down, making you suddenly aware of how fancy your outfit is at a fast food restaurant. You're suddenly self conscious, but you play it off like you wore this with purpose. You could have just gotten off work—what's it to him? You give the man your order and hand him your change, accepting the receipt and cup before heading towards the drink dispenser.

After filling your cup, you find a seat at the back corner next to the window, looking out onto the parking lot. Finally taking notice of your surroundings after realizing that Taehyung isn't here, you realize that the drive thru is the shortest you've ever seen. You were so wrapped up in your fear of attempting to ask Taehyung out that you finally realize that you're way overdressed. You feel ridiculous for dressing up to go to a fast food restaurant and order food.

"Order number eighty-seven," a worker calls, and you get up from your chair and head towards the front. Stepping up to the counter and grabbing your tray, someone says, "Nice outfit." You look up from your food and at the person standing in front of you on the other side of the counter to see Taehyung. He's wearing a white collared shirt with the In-N-Out logo on it, and a tug boat hat with the logo on it as well.

Why does he look so damn good in it?

"Thank you," you mumble, looking away feeling suddenly shy.

"Enjoy your meal," he says, earning back your attention. "You look cute by the way," he adds before turning away and disappearing into the back, and as you watch him disappear, he’s wearing white pants with a red, short apron. You can’t help but admire his ass until it’s gone. 

Taking your tray, you head to your seat and begin to eat your extremely late dinner. As you eat you begin to debate with yourself once again. Are you supposed to wait until closing time for him? That's three hours from here. How slow do you need to eat for it to be closing time? Will it just be him or will his coworkers be here as well? 

In the end you finish your meal and leave immediately after. You didn't have the courage to stick around.

You're back again, dressed less fancy and currently crossing the parking lot to the entrance doors. 

It's been a couple of days since you were last here, but you gathered the courage and came back to do what you couldn't do last time. You even came at a later time so that you don't have to wait over three hours for him to get off. 

You enter the building and stand behind the person currently having their order taken. You look towards the  back to see if you can spot him anywhere. So far you don't see him. 

"I can help next in line," the cashier says, and your gaze is towards her as you step up to her register. You give her your order, hand her the change and take the receipt. "We'll call you when your order is ready," she tells you as you thank her and head to fill your cup. 

You wait at your table for a few minutes eyeing the back in hopes of seeing Taehyung. Even when your name is called you still don't see him. It takes you a good fifteen minutes to realize that Taehyung isn't working today and you leave the building with low hopes.

You're back again! This time he has to be working and you can’t leave either! Walking inside the restaurant, you immediately notice Taehyung working the register, staring down and messing with the keys. You exhale, mentally motivating yourself and make your way over to him. 

When you reach him, he looks up at you and smiles, sending a million butterflies to flutter in your stomach. “Third time’s the charm—” You interrupt him.

“Let’s go on a date,” you tell him, gathering all the courage you have tonight. He’s grinning now as he says nothing but stare at you, and you suddenly lose all that courage as you mumble, “O-only if you want to.” 

“Are you going to stay this time?” he asks, resting his palms at the edge of the counter and leans forward just a bit. “I don’t want to end my shift and not see you here. Again.” 

A light blush creeps across your cheeks. “I’ll stay,” you answer, playing with the bottom of your red shirt. 

“Okay,” he says, standing up and begins to press buttons before opening and closing the tray to the register, reaching down and placing a cup on the counter in front of you. “On the house.” He goes to the back and you grab the cup, heading to fill it with your choice of drink. 

After receiving your food, you eat in silence, and about ten minutes after you began eating, you watch as several employees leave the building. They chat amongst each other clearly happy to leave an hour before closing. 

An hour? Where are they going? You look to the front and see no one. Is Taehyung still here? He didn’t leave you, right? That would be a fucked up move if he did—

The lights cut out, with only back up lights filling the dim room. A figure appears from the back, walking around the counter and towards the glass doors. It takes a bit for your eyes to adjust but you eventually realize it’s Taehyung as he locks the doors. You hear the keys jingle before he places them in his apron pocket. You swallow a lump in your throat as he walks over to your table, taking a seat across from you. 

“You in the mood to start this date now? My shift ended early.” 

You can’t help but giggle. “I’m okay with starting now,” you reply, grabbing a fry and taking a bite out of it. 

He smiles a familiar boxy smile. “Good. So, since our last conversation, I managed to come up with a few more questions.”

You hum. “Shoot.” 

He adjusts in his seat, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. “I always thought you and Bonet were a secret thing.” 

You cock your head to the side in confusion. “Me and Theo?” You shake your head this time and correct, “We did go out once, but it didn’t work out.” 

“Why? Too young?” he implores. 

“That, and he had a crush on August. They’ve been dating since August and Theo came out around the same time,” you comment. He nods in acknowledgement. “Now I have a question for you,” you say. 

He chuckles. “Shoot,” he repeats. 

“Why are the jungle fries a secret?” you inquire, taking a drink from your red and white cup. 

He furrows his brows. “That’s your question?”

“Are you avoiding the question?” You raise your brows, fighting back a smile.

He can only sigh. “It’s not on the menu, but it is online and we do make it if asked. That’s why it’s a secret.” 

“That’s a strange reason,” you comment, taking a bite out of your burger.

“My turn,” he says, and so the two of you spend almost an hour basically playing 20 Questions. Finally he asks, “Walk with me while I make sure everything is ready for tomorrow before we head out?” 

“Sure,” you agree, picking up your tray and getting up from your seat to dump it in the trash, placing the tray on the shelf above the trash can. 

Following him behind the counter, you scan the back with eager eyes. From all the movies and shows you’ve seen revolving around working at a fast food restaurant, it looks almost the same. Stations for each employee to focus on, fridges for cold items and trays full of vegetables. Taehyung is busy double checking everything, and as you watch him, you can’t help but think of all the possibilities he could have working the night shift. 

“Have you ever had sex back here?” you blurt out, full of curiosity, but not really thinking of what you just asked. 

You watch as he turns to look at you in surprise. “You’re curious as to whether I had sex back here or not?”

You shrug. “I’d be surprised if you did,” you state.

He shakes his head and turns his attention back to the items in front of him. “I have,” he answers, and your mouth opens slightly in shock. “Had to delete the footage because I realized the camera caught us.” 

“No way,” you mutter, voice clearly surprised. 

He laughs, “There are a lot of rumors that’s happened on BTS.” 

“Like what?” you implore, taking a step towards him.

“There’s this weird dude that works at Arby’s who is way too dedicated to his job. He’s a sign spinner— the cowboy at the corner. People say he fucks people in bushes,” he tells you. 

"No way," you say in disbelief. "There's no way someone would be sneaky enough to have sex in a bush out in the open. Cars drive by, and no one has seen them?" 

"He has yet to be caught." Taehyung shakes his head in his own disbelief.

"So, everyone is having sex in their workplace it seems," you comment, watching him as places everything back where he found them. 

He walks further towards the back with you following after, stating, "I only know of Arby's and obviously here. McDonald's, Starbucks and the rest of the places I don't know if they're as creative as we are." 

"Creative," you repeat with a chuckle. 

He stops in his track at the back room where you can see the first window where people pay for their food to your left, and a closed door to your right with a small gold plaque with a sign 'manager' printed on it. 

"You feel like seeing the creativity I can come up with?" He asks, a brow raised in a questioning yet teasing manner. 

You can't help but laugh a little louder. "You can trick your manager once, but you're not getting off trying to be "creative" a second time," you tell him, using air quotes for his term of being dirty in a fast food restaurant.

He grabs his hat and tosses it up behind you. You follow the cap as it flies across the hall and catches perfectly the camera facing the two of you. Your head whips back towards him as he stands there with his arms crossed over his chest. “Your move, sweet.” 

With warmed cheeks, you utter, “There’s no way…” 

“Whatever you want to do, I’ll play along. If you’d rather go on a date at a park or just chill in the car, okay.” He takes a step closer, his body inches from you, breath fanning your lips as he adds, “If you want to get creative, I’m more than happy to do it.” His eyes glance to your lips before going back up to your wide-eyed ones. “Your call.” 

You feel like you’re about to burst with how close he is. You can see his eyes so clearly—the lust that’s hidden beneath those chocolate colored eyes. The hunger that’s looming over you, teasing you and sending chills throughout your body. He’s not even touching you, yet you can feel his hands brush along your skin with a hot trail following after. You want this just as much as he does. 

So what’s stopping you?

Crashing your lips to his, you grab a hold of his shirt and bring his body as close as possible to yours. Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to cup your cheeks and kiss you with as much need as you. Lips move along each other with hunger, teeth biting bottom lips, tongues grazing along flesh, begging for entrance. 

The two of you are not patient at all as he helps you remove your top, quickly doing the same with his own. He cups your clothed breasts, squeezing and groping roughly as his tongue swirls around yours, his hot breath making your skin feel sweaty. 

You run your hands through his hair, pulling roughly, earning a groan from him as his hands travel behind you to unclasp your bra. Releasing your grip on his locks, you take your bra off and drop it to the ground, the kiss breaking as his lips travel down to your neck, biting and licking until he reaches your breasts. He plays with one with his hand while the other is occupied with his mouth, his tongue creating circles around your nipple, teeth biting and sucking. You moan, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling. He pinches your other nipple just as hard as he’s biting it. 

“Tae—” Your words catch in your throat as he switches, his fingers pinching your already sensitive tip and biting the other. “Go further,” you beg, watching him as he breaks away from your breasts to look at you. “I need your tongue.” 

He grins a cheeky grin. “Your wish is my command,” he tells you before getting to his knees in front of you. He sure does take his time with removing your pants as you had already removed your shoes. Grabbing the waistband to your jeans, he slowly lowers them down until they’re at your ankles. You’re quicker than he is and completely remove them by using your feet to hold one side down while the other foot struggles to be free. You kick them to the side once they’re no longer around your ankles. 

“Eager I see,” he comments, but he doesn’t give you time to respond as he leans forward and bits your core through your panties. You let out a small gasp, spreading your legs out more for him. He bites and prods with his finger your clothed core, trailing his finger down between your slit. You can’t help but shutter, closing your eyes, enjoying the feeling of it. 

You want more, but you wait. You wait for a small build up he’s creating for you until you’re moving your hips against his finger. Finally, he takes a hold of your underwear and pulls it down. Lifting one leg, he completely removes them and turns his attention back to your naked body. He grabs your leg and lifts it onto his shoulder, spreading your legs as far as he can without you falling over. 

He doesn’t waist anytime getting to work eating you out. Taehyung starts by licking your bead, earning small hip thrusts from the sudden touch. Little moans escape your lips as you throw your head back, your back arching as he swirls his tongue around your clit, his fingers playing between your folds. You cry out his name as he begins to suck, your body jerking, hands gripping his hair and pulling his head closer to your womanhood. 

You’re grinding yourself against his mouth when he finally stops his fingers at your entrance and inserts two digits, sending you closer to your orgasm. His fingers thrust into you, curling and hitting your g-spot with such ferocity that your body is shaking and hunched over, saying his name like a mantra. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down as he finger fucks the life out of you. His mouth never takes a break as he flicks, sucks and swirls around your swollen bean. 

You’ve never been with someone as well practiced as Taehyung. He doesn’t stop his movements as he gets you to your high, white spots invading your vision, breath catching in your throat, toes curling and body spasming so hard that when you’ve finished your orgasm, you fall to your knees in front of him. He catches you and you sit on his leg.  

Panting roughly, you barely whisper, “Oh my God.” 

Taehyung chuckles. “Are you okay?”

You look up at him, your juices glistening from the light in the kitchen around his lips. You clean it off him with your hand. “That was amazing,” you comment, your hand trailing down his chest. 

He shrugs. “I’ve got years of practice under my belt.” 

You laugh at his statement, shaking your head. “Well, it’s only fair I repay you,” you say, getting to your feet and he does the same. You push him against the wall at the opposite end of the hall, his eyes are full of lust again when you gaze at him. His hands reach for your face, but you stop them from reaching you, adding, “Ah-ah. We’re going to see how long you last before you touch me.” 

He groans, “You repay me by not letting me touch you? That’s unfair, babygirl.” 

You grin. “Life is never fair,” you tell him, getting to your knees and focusing your attention on his bulge hidden beneath his white pants. You unbutton and unzip his jeans, gazing your eyes up to see him staring intently at you. He sticks his tongue out to lick his lower lips, his eyes full of hunger like you’re his prey and he’s ready to pounce. 

You grab both his pants and waistband to his boxers and slowly drag them down until they are at his ankles. His member is hard and almost hits your lips when it sprung free. Your eyes widen at its size, mouth watering at the sight of it, and your core getting wet all over again at the thought of it pounding you into oblivion. 

“Remember,” you begin, the tips of your fingers brushing along his penis, “No touching.” You stick your tongue out and lick his tip, his body jerking from the sensation. 

Your tongue circles around his tip, deep, heavy breaths can be heard coming from Taehyung. You can see his hand clench into a fist next to him. He wants you to do more—touch you and guide you where he wants you to be, but he’s resisting so hard. So, you take the desperate hint and take him fully into your mouth, earning a low growl from him. 

“Your mouth is so warm,” he says in a husky tone. “Fuck.” 

You swirl your tongue around him as you bring your head back and then push forward again, taking him as deep as you can. You continue to bob your head back and forth, sucking on his tip every now and then as he moans in pleasure, his hands going up into his hair or balling into fists at his sides. He curses under his ragged breaths, thrusting his hips to meet you at a faster pace. 

You release him from your mouth, grabbing his shaft and lifting it up to place your lips on his balls, your mouth opening to grab what you can and suck. Taehyung is moaning louder and cursing more than he was earlier. His legs shake from the pleasure he can’t contain. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—I can’t take it anymore,” he grunts, reaching his hand down to grab yours holding his girth. He helps you to your feet, quickly getting his feet out of his boxers and jeans, and pushes you backwards until your back is against the cold, tiled walls. You can’t help but gasp at the feeling of it. “I need to be in you, Y/N. I need to feel you,” he pleads, his lips brushing along yours, his member pressing against your walls in a desperate attempt to feel warmth between your legs. 

“Please,” you say, lifting a leg up and he takes a hold of it, lifting it higher as his other hand lines himself at your entrance and finally pushes in. The both of you let out moans, kissing each other desperately. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight and wet,” he groans, pulling himself out and then pushing back in. “You’re so warm. Shit—I don’t know how long I can last. You feel amazing, babygirl.” 

You grab his free hand and bring it to your lips. Taking his middle finger, you put it in your mouth, sucking on it and swirling your tongue around it as if it were his shaft. “Fuck me,” you command, biting his finger just a bit. 

“Oh, baby. I’m going to make your legs feel like jelly,” he murmurs, thrusting into you roughly. Your gasp is caught in your throat as he thrusts deeply into you, giving you no time to catch your breath as he fucks you without a second thought. His finger leaves your mouth, trailing down your body and to your breast to squeeze it as his mouth latches onto your neck. 

You feel a small pain on your neck from him biting your skin, a soft touch from his hand fondling your boob and immense pleasure as he enters you with a rhythmed pace. You claw his back, clutch his hair as you moan in the empty building, your voice louder than the hums of the freezer that can be heard somewhere in the kitchen. 

“Oh my God, yes. Don’t stop, Tae—right there,” you ramble, arching your back as he hits your sensitive spot. “Fuck yes, right there.” 

He grips your thigh tightly, breathing heavily into your neck as sweat drips down both of your bodies. You can feel a hickey growing as he sucks on your skin where your shoulder and neck meet. He doesn’t care and neither do you as you try your best to thrust your hips to meet his fast pace, desperately wanting to reach your orgasm. 

“Please touch me,” you beg, gripping his shoulders for balance as your right leg, keeping you up, is shaking. “I’m so close,” you rasp.

His hand that was once fondling your breast is immediately trailing down between your bodies and to your delicate bead. He presses his fingers to it and begins his circular motion, creating a friction your body cannot take. You let out a cry as you wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly, shutting your eyes as your high gets closer and closer. 

“Fuck I’m about to come,” Taehyung grunts.

“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” you whisper harshly, the sound of skin slapping against each other, his skin peeling away from yours every time he thrusts out of you. His grunts get louder, thrusts no longer at a pace you’re familiar with. He’s just about there and so are you. 

He picks up the speed as fast as he can with his hand and it does just the trick. You’re screaming out his name as you fall into your orgasm, trying your best not to bite him as hard as you are right now. Taehyung is cursing louder and faster as he continues his thrusts and finally goes still. 

The two of you hold one another for a moment with panting breaths before Taehyung interrupts, “Some first date, huh?”

You can’t help but chuckle. “I think the rest of the dates won’t top this one.” 

Taehyung leans back to look at you, his chestnut curls sticking to his forehead. “Every date we go on from here on out will always top the one before.” 

“You sound so confident,” you mumble, your stomach fluttering at the determined look in his eyes.

“I’ve wanted you since we were in middle school. Now that I have you, I’m not letting you go any time soon,” he tells you with so much determination you can’t help but feel a blush rise and blend in with your already reddened cheeks. 

“You’ve wanted me?”

“Why do you look so surprised?”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Because you’re Taehyung. Every girl wanted to be with you. You could have anyone and I’m pretty sure you did—” 

“When there’s someone who catches your attention, it’s hard to look at anyone else,” he states, lowering your leg and holding your waist to keep you still. Your legs feel like they’re about to give out on you. “Let me show you. Let me prove to you how much I wanted your attention.” 

You’re reluctant. You feel like this is a joke, but as you stare into Taehyung’s eyes, you can’t help but feel like he’s telling the truth. Has he always wanted you and you were too blind to see it?

“Okay,” you mutter. “Show me.” 

[Saturday, August 19th, 1:30am] Me: So...

[Saturday, August 19th, 1:31am] Bean: Oh! She lives!

[Saturday, August 19th, 1:31am] Ahyeon: Where have you been Y/N! We’ve been texting all day!

[Saturday, August 19th, 1:32am] Me: I was… with Taehyung

[Saturday, August 19th, 1:33am] Kim: NO WAY

[Saturday, August 19th, 1:33am] Emi: This late?? You didn’t…

[randomficsandshit]

Bellarke Fic Rec

*NONE OF THESE FICS ARE MINE*

Please do not forget. I have not written any of these. I’m simply recommending favorites of mine over the years. If you love something, send the author your love, not me :) and if any links don’t work, send me a message and I’ll see what i can do, this is a pretty old list 

There's A Nap For That 

Word Count: 6k+

AU. Based on that post: "If you both agree to take a nap instead of going out, it’s a date." Or: The one where Bellamy and Clarke keep taking naps together. You know, platonically. See also: Let Them Rest.

If You Wear A Dress and Have an Animal Sidekick, You Are a Princess

Word Count: 3k+

AU. Bellamy can't not take care of every animal he sees, and Clarke can't not find it endearing.

*Mouth Like Heaven, Kisses Like Stars

Word Count: 4k+

His eyebrows are knitted together in a slight frown, the kind he usually gets when he’s trying to work out a difficult problem. Finally, he meets her eyes again and says, almost hesitantly underneath his mask of bravado, “Well, I’m always here to lend a helping hand if you need it, princess.” Clarke actually chokes this time, and it feels like all the breath has been knocked out of her. -or, the time when everything goes downhill and bellamy just goes down.

Wingwoman 

Word Count: 1k+

AU. Clarke didn't think she'd need a wingwoman at the park playground when she's babysitting her one-year-old niece, but then Bellamy Blake strolls up, and Amelia rises to the occasion, luckily for her.

When Love Hits (Better Make It Worth The Fall)

Word Count: 4k+

AU. (She's All That) Four times Clarke gets hit on the head (+1 time she doesn't) during her last semester of high school, and every single time, Bellamy Blake is somehow involved.

All This Time

Word Count: 5k+

AU. Four times Bellamy innocently kisses Clarke, + one time he doesn't.

Take This Heart

Word Count: ~

clarke moves into bellamy's room. this is both soft and full of disdain for clarke's terrible... everything in season 3

You're Cool On The Internet, At Least

Word Count: 9k+

AU. Look, Clarke will not dwell on this. She will not get flustered just because a possibly cute guy on Facebook apparently shares her views on what constitutes a terrible person.

(Or: Clarke meets Bellamy on Facebook. They hit it off.)

(One of my personal favs)

We Came Out On Top

Word Count: 11k+

AU. “How can you guys be all like this and then be at each other’s throats during trivia night?” “Because it’s trivia night,” both Bellamy and Clarke said at the same time, sharing the same why don’t you get it tone. Bellamy, Clarke, and the trivia night rivalries only they care about.

She Does What The Night Does To The Day

Word Count: 5k+

AU. He assumes she would just giggle and continue petting him while saying how pretty he is, but instead, she pulls back with what might have been a leer had she not been three sheets to the wind, and says, “Your body is 65% water and I’m thirsty.” And then if that wasn’t bad enough, she stumbles out of his arms and fucking winks at him. Or at least he thinks it’s a wink. She used both eyes instead of one. or, the one where Bellamy is woefully and terribly oblivious.

The Giant Squid's Got Nothing On You

Word Count: 6k+

AU. Objectively, Clarke knows she’s probably right, but she still can’t help but lift her chin determinedly and say, “He is not going to find it.” She can barely hear her scoff in reply over the din of the cafe. “Yeah right,” says Raven, “The internet is forever, Clarke Griffin. He will find it eventually.” or, Clarke finds her new muse at the local cafe

Alone Together 

Word Count: 11k+

AU. Clarke shows up at Bellamy’s apartment at exactly two minutes to midnight on a Thursday. He's not sure how she ends up staying the night — or why he doesn't turn her away, when it happens again. And again.

Cold As The Wind Blows (so hold me in your arms)

Word Count: 3k+

AU. Clarke gets trapped in the storage room overnight, but at least she's not by herself.

Tequila Regrets

Word Count: 6k+

AU. Clarke and Bellamy have been roommates for a while, and Clarke has been in love with him for almost as long, but when she finds out that his terror of a boss has marked him as her next conquest, Clarke offers to pose as his fake girlfriend for the staff Christmas party to scare her off. She did not think this all the way through.

Mutual

Word Count: 6k+

AU. As acts of rebellion go, Clarke knows that getting a tumblr is both minor and pathetic. But it's her secret, her own tiny, online space where no one knows she's Clarke Griffin, Hollywood A-lister. She's just some nobody with like five followers and opinions no one cares about. And then she makes a friend.

Wish On Everything

Word Count: 11k+

AU. It's not as if Bellamy wanted anything bad to happen to his mother. All he wanted was to get custody of his little sister, so he'd know she was taken care of. And after eight years, he's basically given up all hope of that. Then his mother does die, and social services tells him he gets Octavia.

Legs Crossed Towards Each Other 

Word Count: 7k+

It starts with Raven wanting to set up Mr. Sinclair, out of what are probably genuinely good intentions. It's everyone else who turns it into a massive headache for Bellamy.

What The Hell Is The Catch? 

Word Count: 6k+

Bellamy gets tickets to take his AP US History kids to Hamilton, and Clarke figures he's going to need a chaperone. She's happy to help out. And if he says she owes him for it? Totally worth it.

If You Wanna Reach Me

Word Count: 5k+

AU. Clarke: So yeah, in the dream it's like We're in New York, I think. I'm not really sure, but you know how it is when it's a dream and you just know something. So we're in New York.

Jasper: whos we??????

Clarke: Most of us, I think? It's always kind of hard to remember when it's a dream. Like I just thought "everyone's here!" but I mostly interacted with Bellamy.

Raven: did u mean: real life

Time Enough For Rocking When We're Old

Word Count: 14k+

boston > boston/camb/brook > housing > apts by owner $2-300 Roxbury small room in 3-br 1-bath house, spouse preferred (Roxbury) Pair of siblings looking for housemate. Due to extenuating circumstances I will share with interested parties, I would prefer a roommate who is willing to get married for legitimate personal reasons that do not include sex or anything sketchy. If not interested in marriage, room still available for $300/month plus utilities. Pets okay, no smokers, NO DRUG USE. Please don't just email me to tell me this is fucked up, I know it is, you really don't have to tell me. If you are interested in the marriage part, a female spouse is preferred, but male would be okay too. I promise I will explain this if you really want details, but I'm not putting it online. Serious inquiries only.

Must Love Intersectionality 

Word Count: 2k+

AU. Bellamy hates his stupid history of colonialism class, until he makes a friend. Weirdly, the friend isn't actually in his class, they just share the same desk and like to write angry notes about the patriarchy. Bellamy's a fan.

Regardless Of Warnings, The Future Doesn't Scare Me At All

Word Count: 20k+

AU. 2 Chapters. After an argument with her mother about her unplanned pregnancy, Clarke Griffin ends up back in the small town where her father used to live, spilling her sob story to a sympathetic bartender. And then, somehow, she ends up moving in with the bartender and her brother.

(You Might Find) You Get What You Need

Word Count: 20k+

AU. Clarke needs a date to her ex's sister's wedding, and she's at the point of hiring someone off the internet when Octavia points out that her brother is always looking for money. So Clarke takes him instead.

Just As You Are 

Word Count: 10k+

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single Clarke Griffin in need of a Latin tutorial partner will always end up paired with Bellamy Blake.

I've Been Dreaming Of You From The Other Side (I Know You So Well)

Word Count: 17k+

AU. Ten years ago, Clarke found out she had superpowers. Now she's all ready to start a new life: English teacher by day, vigilante by night. All she has to do is figure out how to be a superhero, avoid getting caught and shipped off by mandatory metahuman registration, and not strangle the stupid history teacher down the hall. It'll be fun.

She's Touching His Chest Now, He Takes Off Her Dress Now

Word Count: 26k+

If Clarke had thought arguments could actually lead to switching bodies with someone, she wouldn't have been surprised this one really did. But since that's actually impossible, waking up as Bellamy Blake is still a shock.

I Know That Fortune Is Waiting To Be Kind

Word Count: 20k+

When Bellamy is eleven, his mother dies, and he finds out his father was a prince, which makes him a prince too, albeit a bastard prince. And when he's twelve, his family decides he would be a good candidate for marriage to Princess Clarke of Arcadia. Princess Clarke thinks so too, but only because he agrees to come back in ten years and help her make sure the wedding never takes place. It seems like a really good deal, when he's twelve.

And Dream How Wonderful Your Life Will Be

Word Count: 19k+

Clarke has known Bellamy Blake for two months when she finds out two completely unexpected things about him: he's married, and he has an eight-year-old son. He's also getting a divorce and he needs a roommate, and she's got a spot. It's complicated.

One Deep Breath and One Big Step

Word Count: 17k+

Clarke Griffin has been groomed for Ark University and Sigma Kappa Upsilon sorority since she was a kid, and she's a little annoyed to discover, upon getting to college, that she really does like Sig-Kap. That she wants to pledge. There's just this weird thing where they don't seem to like her new friend Bellamy.

Write What You Know

Word Count: 13k+

Bellamy understands every individual choice that got him to this point. He started writing erotica to make some extra money, he didn't correct the assumption that he was a woman, made up some facts about his new persona, and now his publisher wants him to start making public appearances, so he needs someone to be that persona. And Clarke really is the logical choice. It all makes sense to him, when he thinks about it, but he will admit it is incredibly weird. Luckily, Clarke's still got his back.

When Can I See You Again? 

Word Count: 13k+

Bellamy doesn't recognize a lot of people he meets at conventions, even if he's met them a lot. It's just hard to keep track. But the girl who comes once or twice a year is pretty easy to remember. And that's before her foster mom shows up in a panic because she took a bus to Vegas alone. After that happens, it's basically all over.

But They Ain't Doing It Right

Word Count: 14k+

“So,” he begins, running a hand through his hair. It’s a lost cause trying to work it back into some semblance of order. “What is this?” “What do you mean?” He doesn’t meet her eye when he says, “Once is a mistake, twice is a pattern,” too busy picking at a loose thread in his hem. “Wanna go three times and just make it a habit?” she jokes weakly, and his head snaps back up, eyes boring into hers. She flushes under the intensity of his gaze. “Actually,” he begins slowly, “That doesn’t sound that bad.” or, the friends with benefits au that got away from me

Phone A Friend

Word Count: 7k+

Clarke does not ask Bellamy for tips on having a threesome because she's hoping to have a threesome with him. He's just the only person she knows personally who has actually had a threesome, so he seems like her best resource. And when the opportunity to have a threesome with him presents itself, it's not like she's going to just say no.

I'm Swept Away and My Heart Ensnared 

Word Count: 15k+

Raven hums low in her throat. “Well, at least Bellamy can make it up in time. So you won’t get too axe murdered.” Clarke wrinkles her nose, leaning on the banister of the upstairs porch. From here she can see the ocean, just a five minute walk away, and she breathes in brine soaked air. “He’s still coming?” “What do you mean if he’s still coming? He didn’t say anything otherwise.” She shifts from foot to foot, feeling herself colour slightly even though there’s no one there to see her. “I just assumed that because you and Miller couldn’t make it up anymore he wouldn’t come today.” “Why the hell did you think that?” “Because Bellamy and I aren’t exactly friends, Raven." or, Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin don't really like each other. Or at least that's what they tell themselves.

Afraid To Call This Place Our Own 

Word Count: 22k+ 

(Single mom!Clarke and Teacher!Bellamy, with the usual angsty shenanigans.)

And Are We There Yet (Home) 

Word Count: 2k+

A Bellamy POV and mini sequel to afraid to call this place our own. (this shit made me cry) 

Bloodstains and Innocence: A Clarke Griffin Mystery

Word Count: 27k+

Police Chief Clarke Griffin knows three things: 1) Charles Pike is dead. 2) Octavia Blake is the prime suspect. 3) Bellamy Blake a giant pain in the ass with no business being involved in a murder investigation, and yet here he is, working the case alongside her. A hurricane is approaching the sleepy little island of Arkadia, NC as evidence begins to mount against Octavia and Clarke wrestles with her increasingly complicated relationship with Bellamy, all while trying to answer one simple question: Who killed Charles Pike?

Is There An IUD That Can Stop The Image of You and Me? 

Word Count: 8k+

It's probably impossible to be friends with benefits with someone who might not even count as a friend, but "lab partners with benefits" isn't a thing yet. So that's probably the right term. Whatever it is, Clarke's enjoying it. As long as she ignores the whole feelings thing.

I’m Gonna Leave You Anyway

Word Count: 65k+

Modern AU inspired by the show You're the Worst, where Bellamy and Clarke hook up after a wedding.

                  And You Can Have This Heart To Break

Word Count: 37k+

Clarke knows she's being a little over-dramatic in her complaining about having to move to Maine, but it does seem pretty unreasonable of her mother to drag her to a small town in the middle of nowhere for the three months between high-school graduation and her starting college. As it turns out, the summer is great. It's just the summer ending that's the problem.

Museums and Mistletoe 

Word Count: 1k+

Clarke buys Bellamy a museum ticket for Christmas and he acts like it’s the best gift he’s ever received. She buys one for herself too, because she knows none of their other friends have the time to go—finding a day they can all get together to exchange gifts is hard enough—and if it gets her an uninterrupted afternoon with her best friend and all around favorite asshole, she’s definitely not complaining.

When In Brome

Word Count: 57k+

Octavia is the one who tells Clarke about "Untitled Gladiator Project," because she thinks Bellamy wants to be on it, and also thinks Clarke is the one who will be able to convince him to do it. Plus, it turns out Clarke actually needs to be involved, because all of the gladiators are required to have girlfriends with them, and, honestly, the more she hears about it, the more of a mess it seems like. On the other hand, it sounds kind of hilarious, and definitely right up Bellamy's alley, so there's probably no harm in trying out. It might be fun.

It’s All Internet Interaction

Word Count: 11k+

Bellamy is less than pleased when soap opera star Clarke Griffin lands the lead role in the Callister reboot. So, naturally, he writes about it. It’s not supposed to blow up. She’s not supposed to respond to it either, but here they are.

Just Dive Right In (And Follow My Lead)

Word Count: 24k+

Clarke Griffin needs a partner. Bellamy Blake just happens to walk into her rink. (Or: Bellamy and Clarke as ice dancing partners, training together through the years to the Olympics.)

Sleight Of Hand

Word Count: 56k+

Notorious criminal prodigy Bellamy Blake has been tasked with a seemingly impossible heist. Luckily enough, he just might have the right crew for it. *Personal Favorite*

And Then We Were Chasing Comets

Word Count: 21k+

If you told Clarke Griffin that she would become best friends with the resident black sheep of Arkadia, she would have difficulty believing it, let alone the fact that he apparently wrote an entire book about her. (Or: Clarke and Bellamy through the years, as childhood best friends.)

See Me In Hindsight 

Word Count: 16k+

“You’re kind of a mess,” He says mildly. “Thanks captain obvious.” The corners of his mouth twitch a little, like he’s holding back a smile. She is not remotely pleased by that. Not at all. Or, the one where they're project partners and maybe, perhaps, friends. (And maybe, perhaps, more.)

Challenge Accepted

Word Count: 30k+

He doesn't even like Clarke Griffin, he's pretty sure he hates how easy everything has come to her. So imagine his surprise when he finds himself at their office party looking through dick pics on her phone. “You can do better, Princess. In fact, I can do better.” As soon as she turns to him with raised eyebrows and an open mouthed grin he knows he’s said too much but she’s not going to let it drop. “Oh really, you think you can do better, Blake?” And he's never backed down from a challenge in his life.

Found Myself In A Second 

Word Count: 5k+

The one where Clarke finds a lost wallet belonging to one Bellamy Blake.

Every Rose Can Sting You 

Word Count: 15k+

Clarke expected to encounter annoying guys when she got forced into becoming the Bachelorette, but she didn't realise that the most annoying of them all would be the head cameraman. Because seriously, Bellamy Blake is a total prick. It's a good thing there's absolutely no chance of her ever actually liking him, because boy, would that be inconvenient…

Choking On Your Alibis 

Word Count: 7k+

Bellamy gets a girlfriend and Clarke handles it spectacularly well

[nanowrimo]

10 Tips for Writing With a Busy Schedule

Whether it's school, work, or family that’s got you strapped for time, fear not! Long time Wrimo Josalyn McAllister is here today to share her advice to help you find time to finish your novel on even the tightest of schedules.

I first heard about NaNoWriMo at my local library. I had recently decided to become a stay-at-home mom and my daughter was five months old. She required all my attention most of the time, then lay sleeping in her crib for a couple hours each day, leaving me alone in an empty house. I would set her down for her nap and then run to the computer and type furiously until she woke up. I was able to complete all 50,000 words and I felt so good about myself.

Three more kids and a couple part-time jobs later, I no longer have glorious uninterrupted nap times to write. However, I have published my first novel (which started out as a NaNo project), and won NaNo 8 more times. I’ve learned a few things over the years:

1. Abandon your dreams. 

Well, not all of them, but definitely your vision of uninterrupted writing time with motivational music playing and a cup of tea alongside you. If you wait for that moment, you won’t finish. There will be a few of those moments, but not 50,000 words worth of them.

2. Use the odds and ends of time.  

David McCullough describes an early American doctor who was also a painter and biologist. “When asked how it was that he could do so much and accomplish so much, he said, “I’ve learned to use every one of all the odds and ends of the time.” 

3. Do what works for you. 

I’d heard of writers who don’t realize time is passing because they’re “in the zone.” That has never happened to me. Shorter, fifteen-ish minute bursts make me a lot more productive. Figure out what works best for you and do it. Don’t try to fit into some mold of what a “writer” does.

4. Outline. 

For years I thought of myself as a pantser, chaffing at the restriction of an outline. Then I wrote a mystery novel and had to outline so the end would make sense. It was the easiest 50,000 words I’ve ever written. It was amazing not to have to sit for a while and think about what should happen next. Even a pantser can write down a list of essential scenes. Don’t be afraid to skip around in your story.

5. Write more words than you need each day but don’t burn yourself out.

I’ve seen people do 10k in one day, then not write anything else. I’ve also seen people do exactly 1667 words each day, then miss a day and get so discouraged that they quit.

6. Don’t edit. 

Even if you’ve written the dumbest sentence in the history of human language, leave it and move on. Edit in December.

7. Make it fun. 

My friends and I used to book a cabin to do twenty-four hours of writing. We ate tons of junk food and would ask each other for ideas when we got stuck. It was lovely. 

8. Find what motivates you. 

Try reading The Four Tendencies by Gretchen Rubin. 

9. Turn off your internet. 

I used to end up down rabbit holes for hours “fact checking.” This can be valuable to the creative process but sucks up a lot of time. Turn off your internet until you get your words written. If you want to fact check later, just highlight the sentence in your document so you can come back to it. 

10. Don’t be negative about your work or anyone else’s. 

Creativity and negativity don’t mix.

Happy writing!

Josalyn McAllister recently released her debut novel, Love Over Easy, in May. She has participated in NaNoWriMo for eleven years. In her spare time, she raises four children, volunteers at her church, celebrates every holiday conceived by man and blogs on her website josalynmcallister.com. You can follow her on Instagram @josalynmcallister.