#my first intake was fine ish

[katebeckets]

[mypoisonedvine]

𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓸𝓯 𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓼 | billy knight x reader

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 | it feels like a lifetime ago, but you knew billy once. when a stranger calls you from a hospital, you're ready to drop everything to be at his side again.

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 | 2.7k

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | 18+ adult content (no smut but just mature in general), violence mentions, inpatient psychiatric care, implied abuse and abusive childhoods, fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol consumption and possibly drug use, technically kind of platonic but also kind of not... it's complicated

please let me know if you guys want a part 2 to this, I'm not sure if there's enough demand for it but I got a few requests recently for a billy knight fic <3

Perhaps it was part of your role as the self-elected leader of the unit, but you tried to introduce yourself to every new intake. 

You’d been here the longest of anyone now, everyone you met when you arrived had been discharged, and you felt it was your duty to do for these new kids what Rory back on your first day did for you: come by your room and tell you that everything was going to be okay.

You leaned in the open doorway, and the new kid was doing what they’re usually doing when you show up: sitting on the edge of their unmade bed, sheets folded beside them, staring at the wall.  He wasn’t as dazed as some of them— he must not have put up a fight so he didn’t get any tranqs— but you could see the gears turning in his head as he considered everything that led him to this point, locked in a psych ward possibly against his will.  No one actually chooses to be here… some just accept it once they arrive, and some do not.

He wasn’t completely freaking out or trashing the place, though, so that was a good sign.

It took him a minute to notice you, and when he did, he shot you a slightly skittish look with those massive brown eyes he had, nearly hidden by a mess of blonde-ish curls.

"What are you in for?" you asked, raising your wrist to display the white plastic band with a smirk.

He barely glanced at it, before wrapping his fingers around his own wrist to cover the label.  He was bouncing his leg rapidly, staring forward with bloodshot eyes, the kind you get from not sleeping well for months.

"You'll sleep better here," you promised, and he stopped moving his leg, looking up at you again, and you smiled.  "Night meds have something that help you sleep.  It's not that strong, won't knock you out right away, but it helps.  I swear I never had my eyes shut for eight hours straight 'til I got here."

As you laughed politely, he glanced up and down at you.  "What's your name?" he asked quickly.

You stepped forward and told him as you gingerly sat beside him on the bed.  He nodded a little when he heard it, you almost wondered if you'd heard him say 'pretty' under his breath.  "What's yours?" you asked.

"Billy," he answered.  "I mean, William, but that's what everyone calls me.  Y-you could call me something else if you wan'."

You smiled.  "I think Billy will be just fine, unless you'd like me to call you something else."

"Billy's okay," he agreed, wiping under his nose with his knuckles as he looked at you for a second.  "It's not that bad here, then?"

You shook your head.  "It's my favorite so far.  Easily one of my top ten juvenile mandatory inpatient psychiatric facilities."

Billy snorted as he smiled and looked down, and you smiled too.  "You're funny," he decided.

"Yeah?" you grinned.

"Yeah," he hummed.  "A-and…"

"Mm?" you encouraged softly, but he didn't go on.  "And… mad?  Strange?  Stunningly gorgeous?"

You were just joking on the last one, but it seemed to throw him off, and he shook his head as he laughed breathily at you.  "Mad, definitely mad," he decided.

"Well, Billy," you leaned in closer, resting a hand on his shoulder as he looked at it and then you with watery eyes, "we're all mad here."

xx

"Miss, do you know a William Knight?"

You clutched your phone tighter as you held it to your ear; you'd wondered if you'd ever hear that name again.  “Billy?  Yes, I—” you couldn't decide if you should say know or knew.  “Yes.  Is everything alright?  Why are you calling?”

“We found your name in his wallet.  An old hospital ID bracelet.”

You smiled.  How could he have kept that rotting old thing for all these years?

“We were hoping to find someone who could come talk to him.  He's being treated at St. Agnes' now for stab wounds.”

You gasped.  "Oh my god— is he okay?"

"Yes, he'll be fine,” the voice on the other end of the call assured.  “He's awake now, medicated, a little disoriented but… frankly, he's in a better state now than he was before the attack.  He was quite psychotic and dysregulated."

You chewed your lip.  "Wait— before the attack?  How did you… who is this?"

"My name is Cormoran Strike, Billy is a client of mine."

"I hope you're a therapist, Mr. Strike."

"I'm a detective."

You shut your eyes and sighed.

"Can you come to the hospital?" he asked.

"O-of course.  I'm leaving work now, I should be there before the half-hour."

xx

“Thank you for calling me,” you sighed as you stood in front of Cormoran and his assistant, Robin.

“The hospital was running out of options for next-of-kin to contact,” Cormoran explained.  “We figured you must be a good friend.”

You smiled.  “Well, I am.  But we haven’t spoken in over ten years.”

They both gave you a shocked look, and glanced at each other.

“Not since I gave him that wristband you found,” you admitted with a laugh.

“But you came on such short notice,” Robin recalled.

“Certain people will always be in your life,” you explained, “no matter how long you go without seeing them.  Billy and I lost contact after I was discharged from that hospital, but we made a promise to never forget each other.  I knew we were keeping it, all this time…”

As you looked down at the floor for a minute, cheeks warming, you felt that nervous feeling growing in your stomach— the one you’d had since you hopped in the car.  It was intimidating to imagine seeing him again.  You were expecting, on some level, to walk around that corner and see the same boy you saw sitting on his bed way back then; you almost felt like the girl that had introduced yourself to him, too.  But so much had changed since then— even if you felt in your heart that some things hadn’t.  You could only hope that he felt the same way.

“Can I see him now?” you asked quietly.

“Yes,” Cormoran nodded, “but know that he might be a little disengaged— he’s still coming off of anesthesia and other medications.”

You nodded, another mumbled thank you before you stepped past them and leaned past the corner.  You smiled as soon as you saw him, even though he looked rougher than you’d hoped for.  Time hadn’t been especially kind to him, but he was real, he was here, he was a grown man— which, after everything he’d been through, just growing up was an achievement.  You were so proud that he’d made it this far.

He didn’t see you yet, still staring forward at the row of chairs across from him, elbows resting on his knees.  "We've simply got to stop meeting like this," you grinned.

He looked at you, and seemed to recognize you in a moment before suddenly becoming concerned.  "You're not staying here, are you?" he asked quickly.

"No, I'm only visiting," you assured.

"Oh," he sighed, relaxing a bit as you approached him and sat next to him on a chair.  "Who are you here to see?"

You couldn't help but laugh softly, though you didn't answer the question, instead reaching up to rest your hand on his.  "How are you feeling?"

He breathed out heavily.  "I'm better.  But things haven't been so good."

You nodded.  "So I've heard… a friend of yours called me, said you got hurt?"

He chewed his lip for a moment; you loved that after over a decade, he barely questioned your presence, he just started talking.  Of course, the cocktail of pills he was on at the moment likely contributed to that, but you knew part of it was the bond you had as well.  Some things really don’t change.  “Yeah,” he finally agreed to your question.  “But m’okay now.  They gave me some things to make the bad thoughts go away.”

“That’s good,” you hummed, “it’s so scary when you’re having bad thoughts, but you’re not bad.”

He raised his hand to his mouth where he started to chew on his thumb, but you reached forward and gently moved it back down again, making him glance at you.  “I remember you told me that before,” he replied quietly.  “When we lived in the same place.”

It almost seemed like he remembered it better as a feeling rather than a real experience; like he recognized you without really knowing how you met.  “I did tell you that,” you agreed.  “You remember that, right?  We stayed in a place called O—”

“Oak Hill,” he interrupted, “yeah.  You visited me on my very first day.”

“And you called me mad,” you remembered with a laugh.  “Thought it was pretty rich coming from you.”

“I— I didn’t want to call you that.  I was gonna say something else,” he remembered, looking away, forcing you to lean in closer.

“What?  What did you want to say then?” you pressed.

“I… well,” he stalled as he ran his hand over his hair, ruffling it slightly— a nervous tic you remembered.  “I wanted to call you pretty.”

You smiled a bit, glancing down.  “You thought I was pretty when you met me?”

"Always thought you were pretty," he said quietly, looking at you with that scared puppy look like he thought he might be doing something wrong by admitting that.  "Did we kiss or did I just imagine it?  I mean, I know I imagined it, I just can't remember if that night by the creek was real."

You smiled.  "If you imagined it then so did I.  I remember it, too."

He nodded, smiling a little, and your heart melted just to see it again— that smile.  It was nothing compared to the wide grins and belly laughs you remembered, but it was a good start.

"I told you to find me again when we were both back on the other side," you remembered.  "Did you ever look me up, try to ring me?"

He crossed his arms slightly, looking down into his lap, before shaking his head.

"Well, I'm glad that we've seen each other again," you decided.  "I really hoped you were doing so well… I'm sorry to hear you've had a tough go of it since then.  I was always thinking of you, but I guess it didn't help."

"Thinking of you helped me," he countered, and your chest filled with a gasp and with hope.  "I, er… I figured you'd find someone better than me."

You delicately reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear, toying lightly with one of his loose wavy strands.  "You've brushed your curls out," you noticed with a slight pout.

"Y-yeah," he mumbled, reaching up to touch his hair self-consciously.  "I got sick of 'em, looked like a clown—"

"No, your hair was so nice," you insisted, "I loved your curls."

His cheeks seemed to tint as he gave you a tiny smile.  "Nah…" 

"And you've got a beard now," you noticed too, making him laugh and brush your hand away as you rubbed his face for a second.  "You're so… scruffy."

"Look like a stray dog, I reckon," he shrugged.

"No, Billy, you look good," you assured.

He turned his head to look at you, really, for the first time.  His eyes were big, of course, that warm brown like a blanket over your shoulders.  It took you right back— to those months in the ward with him, to that night by the creek where he kissed you and held you close and you thought that was it, that you and him would be together and nothing else mattered.

But you saw the darkness under his eyes too, the lines at the corners, and you could only imagine how tired he was.  As you reached up to brush your hands over his face, he caught a glimpse of the ring on your hand.

He held your hand so delicately, guiding it back so he could see your fingers, and smiled as he pinched the diamond between two fingers to get a better look at it.  "Who's the lucky bloke, then?"

"His name's George," you answered, smiling back at him.  

"Is he a footballer?"

You snorted.  "Heavens, no— he's an architect.  What makes you think he's a footballer?"

"Always thought you'd marry one."

You scrunched up your nose as you shoved him on the shoulder.  "Shut up!" you whined.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I dunno," he shrugged as he laughed.  "Just… pretty girls who like attention always end up with footballers.  It was that or Prince Harry."

"Oh my god," you rolled your eyes. "What about you, have you got a girlfriend?"

His eyes got a little sadder and he glanced down.  "N-no… I was seeing a girl for a while, but… she left."

"I'm sorry," you sighed, "I was hoping you had someone to take care of you…"

"W-well, there's my brother…"

You stiffened up; you still remembered the things he told you about his brother all those years ago in the facility.  His idea of 'taking care' of Billy made you concerned.  "Do you know when they'll discharge you?"

"Eh?" he mumbled.  "Oh, no… maybe today."

"Well, I'm gonna leave you my number," you promised, "and address.  I'll leave a little money too so you can take a taxi to my place—"

He started to shake his head, his lips pursing.  "Y'don't have to do that for me—"

"But I really want to, Billy," you assured.  "If you'd like to come over, we'd love to have you for dinner."

"I-I did look you up once," he admitted suddenly.  "I wanted to call you— I really did, but… I guess I was afraid of what you'd think.  You always told me to do something with my life."

You smiled and pet his head, combing your fingers through his hair.  "I just want you to be okay, Billy, s'all I ever wanted."

He nodded quickly, glancing away.

"Will I see you around then?" you pressed.

"Yeah— maybe we can grab a pint or something."

You didn't have the heart to tell him you couldn't drink on your meds; and you sighed, knowing if he was drinking then he was probably not on meds and obviously not staying sober.  But this could be a new start, if whoever operated on him gave him more than just painkillers; who knew how long he’d been unmedicated (or, knowing him, self-medicating), but you’d learned from a lot of breakdowns that it’s never too late to begin again.

You allowed yourself to touch his hair one more time, gently twirling a lock of light brown around your fingers, before you took the paper out of your purse along with a pen and hastily wrote your home and cell numbers, your address, even how to contact your office.  You folded it up with some bills and gave them to him.

“Keep these in your pocket for later,” you instructed, and he took them with a slightly shaky hand to shove into his jeans pocket.  

He watched you as you stood up.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” you prompted, but he suddenly stood up and faced you.  He was taller, and you looked up at him for a moment before he quickly pulled you into an embrace; it was sort of stilted and uncomfortable even though it wasn’t really awkward in of itself, and you relaxed into him as you reciprocated the hug.

“I missed you,” he breathed against the top of your head, and you heard him take a deep inhale.  “You smell the same.”

You smiled and pressed your face harder against his chest through the soft t-shirt.  “You smell like hospital,” you admitted with a laugh.  

He let you go, but you would’ve let him hold you for hours.  “You have to go,” he noticed, sniffling as he rubbed under his nose.  “But I’ll call.  I really will this time.”

You smiled.  “I’m counting on it, Billy.”

[phiralovesloki]

April-ish Goals

So, March was kind of another bust. Residual COVID exhaustion, plus spouse got sick again, and littlest has once again decided that sleep is for the week. So April will be more about fine-tuning and getting back to where I was. No new goals.

I managed to bathe the kids about twice a week, which is still way better than I'd been doing, and I worked out about once a week. So I will try to keep up the twice a week for the kids' baths and maybe up my workouts to twice a week. But otherwise, just still keep trying with those.

I did not eat well this month either, so it's time to try to hop back on that wagon. I really don't want to take meds to manage my blood sugar, not because I feel like doing it "naturally" is better, or because I love denying myself food I enjoy, or anything like that. It's just that I already take 3 different meds daily and I don't want to add to it if I don't have to. So back to reducing my sugar intake. Luckily, I had my little Easter treat yesterday (4 Cadbury Creme eggs in a row) and should be good for a while.

The house is not a complete disaster, but I need to get back into the swing of things with it. Primarily, I need to get back to dropping the kids off at school and then immediately doing my daily chores. Today I had to take littlest to a doctor's appointment during that time, but tomorrow, I will try again.

Teeth are doing great, though! Still going strong on that goal, and I'm very proud of myself.

Gonna ditch the "getting rid of stuff" goal for now. I need to settle back into the groove with everything else first.

[sunnyyangie]

SORRY IM YAPPING SO MUCH TO U HDFGHSDG lmk if you'd rather me reply in the comments or smth instead of sending a new ask every time i wouldn't be bothered at all 🙏

but OMG THEIR EDITORS i have literally sat there crying laughing at their variety stuff bc they are TEWWWW funny

and OH NO im glad you were able to fix it and i hope it stays in place but also PIT?? i would go insane... i honestly wish i got pit tickets but the friends im going with aren't into them enough to spend that money but i was so willing to D: i just dont know anyone else that likes piwon like that sigh </3 oh and i'm also 5'2 if GA wasn't seated i think i would d!3

BUT YES I'LL SHOW U FOR SURE i'll even send any good concert pics i get (theo for u ofc) but i am on the second level and my camera quality is kinda ass so we'll see .

and STOP I WAS ON MERCARI AND EBAY FOR LIKE A WEEK STRAIGHT JUST STARING AT INTAK PCS AND MY FRIEND ONLY GOT ME ONE AS PAYMENT FOR ME GETTING HER AN ART PRINT SET THAT SHE WANTED LOL

NOOO YOURE OKAY HAHSH i love yapping and listening to ppl yap ! talking to ppl on here is nice 🥹and either is fine i dont really mind!! <3

no literally stomach hurting from laughing so hard funny😭😭

yeah i had pit in toronto last year which was my first time having pit for a concert (i also went to lollapalooza in 22 with ga so like in a way second time w pit (btw lolla is not for the weak yall)) which was insane idk i was close to the side barricade which was nice (esp when they walked past for swagger omfg theyre so beautiful up close) and was maybe like 10th ish row?? idk there was some moving around and cramped for pit so i couldnt rlly tell

PLUS i had platform heels (first time wearing them) which hurt like HELL after but worth it bc im pretty short too

AH thank u i will also be supplying u my pics from the shows too (im going to gov ball and la) and la second row from main stage AHH dont ask the price bc dynamic pricing got me so trust

also you can try to go into settings for ur camera and up the quality! it takes more storage tho but thats what i do

SO REAL i mainly use insta for pcs for piwon idk maybe i should look into mercari again and ebay hmm. BUT ALSO NO I SHOUDLNT bc i have no money omfg

[cloveroctobers]

can you do some headcanons on what it would be like to be Jordan and Olivia (all American)’s sister and to be a teen mom and to just be part of the whole vortex friend group? Loved ur Layla headcanons <33 Sorry this is hella specific and worded weird 😭 English is not my first language

BAKER SIBLINGS x3

A/N: glad you enjoyed them! + Your English is just fine👌🏾💜 & this ended up being a little more focused on Ada’s relationship with the twins actually and their childhood 😅 + I also was unsure how to end it, which I’m sure you’ll be able to tell once you get to the bottom lol.

WARNINGS: some possible triggering subject matters related to ED are mentioned somewhere down below. + GIF SEARCH IS ALWAYS DONE BY GOOGLE & BELONGS TO: @bakerolivia

・❥・ੈ✩‧₊˚ ・❥ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ・❥・ੈ✩‧₊˚ ・❥ ੈ✩‧

Ada Baker, also know as little Baker would be the baby sibling to the baker twins ofc.

Two years behind to be exact.

Current age as of season 5: 17/18? —Since the writers never have a consistent timeline/time frame— but it’s been brought to my attention due to the one of the episodes that Jordan is 19 so Olivia is also 19.

They’re both born in April, making them Aries babies

Two year old Jordan was not thrilled having another sister, which Laura and Billy found funny considering how close he ended up being to Ada.

Back then? They heavily got on each other’s nerves.

Ada is a cancer (born in late June) and although reserved/Stand off-ish to some, her closest friends and family know just how goofy she is just like the baker’s all can be.

She snorts when she laughs for one.

She’s also the first one to break out into dance moves with their dad Billy once he gets into his two-step routine or soul train moves, regardless of who’s watching, she loves laughing and dancing with that bald headed man.

Quiet yet sweet and temperamental all wrapped in one. First they’re sour, then they’re sweet—is definitely Ada!

The youngest sib is actually the most protective imo—she’ll throw hands for any of her sibs and will insert herself into any of their fights if need be.

Most of the time she’s open to seeing different perspectives but all hats are off when it goes to those that start shit with her big brother and sister.

Jordan and Ada are the fighters whereas Liv is more so on the verbal part, the girl is slick with her words but don’t underestimate—Liv has a mean uppercut and back hand. Have you seen those long arms?!

Was the “chubby” sibling growing up so lots of bullying was going on and kids also liked to pick on her freckles? How dumb! which resulted in fights and a few suspensions or detentions—older baker’s included.

Ada never had a reason to experience body dysmorphia (even when her own grandmother would make shady comments to Laura when they visited her for the weekend) until other kids started making it a big deal. 

She hit puberty early and the immaturity seemed to only increase due to being top heavy and not shaped so thinly like her mother or older sister.

Lots of depression, anger, wearing baggy clothing, and limiting their food intake became a thing during her middle school years and she became the first out of the family to seek therapy.

Billy didn’t think it was necessary, feeling that his daughter should just talk to him, his wife, or her siblings as the answer. It took some convincing and it wasn’t until Billy picked up on some unhealthy habits—like barely eating, purging, fainting from lack of nutrients, and seeing her constantly step on the scale three x a day, did he finally come around.

Then she took up kick-boxing which helped a lot along with her hobby of creating her own coraline inspired dolls and obsession with stop motion animation films.

She wasn’t as athletic as Jordan and she remembered being forced to attend dance classes as a kid with Liv but it ultimately wasn’t her thing.

Ofc sports were encouraged in the baker household and softball was a thing for awhile before kickboxing, “but you’re excellent at softball why would you want to give it up?” Billy asked an eight year old Ada who just shrugged her shoulders in the backseat after a game, “it’s boring daddy and I don’t want to do it anymore.” He was always softhearted for his baby girls so he didn’t pushed it but he became even more excited when Ada picked up kickboxing—not for the reason behind it though!

Ada’s kicks were insane!

“Ada, What’s the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done?” Olivia asked while the siblings decided to do a sibling tag for Liv’s Instagram.

The twins awaited Ada’s answer as she sat in between them and snorted, “probably get pregnant.”

Olivia nodded her head with her lips pushed out, lightly laughing as she returned her attention back to her phone, “Oop.”

“Well that’s all folks.” Jordan gave a two finger salute while Ada shrugged at the camera, a smirk on her lips.

It’s not like she purposely went out and got pregnant at fifteen but it was the first thing that came to mind—although there was probably a small list—she can be straight forward sometimes.

She went to Liv first with this huge secret, wanting her big sis to be there with her while she took the two tests from her Tongan boyfriend, who sneakily stole one from his older sister and bought the other.

“You better not be pranking me, Ada. This is serious.” Liv paced the floor while Ada was in the bathroom, tending to business.

“Why would I joke about this? You saw how much I was shaking when I told you.”

Liv sighed, knowing she was right. She was shocked that Ada even thought this was a possibility, eyes wide and almost gagging at the image of her sister being involved with her annoying jock boyfriend who didn’t even look sixteen.

But she also felt pride that Ada came to her first about this whole ordeal. The baker family was slowly getting better at paying more attention to each other and communicating so this actually means a lot that Ada trusted Liv with this secret.

With Liv reading the two pink lines for her and the second almost screaming: pregnant. she held onto her baby sister who fell into tears over this new change of direction her life was about to unfold.

Laura was told next before Ada’s bf at the time and Laura had the same reaction as liv: wide eyes and mouth agape before she rounded off questions: “how could you be so irresponsible? You’re only a child yourself! We’re making you an appointment first thing tomorrow morning to see how far along you are and your best options!”

Laura was just as upset as Ada but it was evident the girl was scared at the mere fact that she was having a child and that her family would probably disown her. Laura could see it in her child’s low-set damp eyes and with the way Liv was trying to be a mediator, she sighed trying to collect her thoughts, calming down.

Eventually Laura squeezed Ada to her chest, telling her that everything will be figured out and not to speak a word of it to her father until after the appointment.

Jordan found out anyways since her bf blurted it out one night when they ran into each other at this restaurant and Jordan roughed the younger boy up a bit for even “joking” about his sister like that before it was broken up.

Jordan invaded Ada’s privacy, going through her room to get some answers and when he did… he never could keep a secret—he brought it right to their father.

Billy and Jordan were heavily disappointed and said some very hurtful things that Laura immediately stepped in, her mommy bear instincts firing off at the two men in the house. “What’s the matter with you two? This is your daughter, your sister! To think what the both of you said to her was even remotely okay, tells me you don’t respect her as a person and I won’t stand for either of you speaking to her like that!”

Ada gave them both the silent treatment for a month until a sit down was demanded by Laura and Liv.

Apologies were made and life went on but that didn’t mean the wound wasn’t still there.

Ada rarely forgot much.

To be pregnant by your first love changed everything for Ada Baker. To have a bf so supportive, more supportive than her own father and brother meant a lot and she swore she was going to be with this guy forever.

Until he moved back to New Zealand, finding it selfish that her bf’s family just up and left knowing he had a child.

Which made things even harder for Ada. Juggling school—the gossip and the work load, the absence of her bf in raising their child together, simply being a teen mom was extremely hard, the change of her body after birth, she thought about old habits until she looked into the replica of her own hooded eyes that she handed down to her child, reminding Ada that she had to be better for her.

Everyday was a daily struggle but one thing is extremely true: Ada loved her daughter, dearly.

The little girl easily gained the number one spot for “best friend”

She loved having matching outfits with her and socializing with her who easily babbled back before she really learned how to speak.

Although Ada’s teenage years changed because of her daughter, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like without her vocal, smart, and active child.

It got a smidge easier as Ada’s baby got older, allowing her to spend more time with the vortex and her own set of friends. She became less needy but still adored Ada just the same.

There’s no other way to describe a child running up to you to give you the biggest hug after a long day 🥹

Attending high school, homework, work, and tending to a two year old before and after—majority of the time depending what time Ada got off. She was super thankful that Mama Laura stepped in most of the time along with the vortex. Ask her how she does it? Barely.

She gets frustrated with her child’s father since he’s not physically here to help and a FaceTime can only do so much.

I feel like the vortex wouldn’t exclude Ada as much as they got older. They’ve all been friends since childhood and she was always viewed as, “Little Bunny Baker” or simply “Little baker.”

The bunny stood for: Ada’s obsession with bunnies back when she was in elementary school.

The bakers never got into owning a cat or a dog. It was always a hamster or a fish since the family was usually always on the go.

Which resulted in Jordan accidentally k*lling Ada’s pet Bunny, leaving it outside in its cage during a heatwave in the hills while they were heading to the Grand Canyon one summer.

Ada would have done it herself and sure it was her responsibility but being rushed out of the house with a father like billy at the crack of dawn—Billy, Liv, and Ada left for the airport early to catch a morning flight since Laura couldn’t get off work until the afternoon and would be taking the evening flight with Jordan

Ada begged jordan on the phone to do it for her as they made it to the airport and Jordan said he would

Laura double checked with Jordan before they were also rushing out of the house to their car service and Jordan swore he did…

Until they came back and you can guess what was left for Ada there.

That was the last time she ever forgot to do something. Shout-out to childhood trauma!

anyways it wasn’t necessarily anything personal with the vortex, it’s just that she was a little young and they were older and they were the “cooler.” She was just kinda “weird” kid with glasses and freckles who wasn’t into what other kids were into. You know how that goes as the younger sibling…

JJ was probably the only one that didn’t make Ada feel some type of way as a kid. Always the big heart that one and Ada would be lying if she said a teeny crush wasn’t formed—back then!

Layla was sorta nice too, being Olivia’s glamorous best friend and all but Ada didn’t miss how they gossiped about her sometimes when Ada left the room—which resulted in Ada calling Liv out on it.

The screaming matches between those two growing up? It makes complete sense why Ada’s daughter has a set of strong vocal cords on her.

But hey that was all childhood stuff! As they got older, there was no need for the excluding of Ada Baker. She was just as much family as Jordan and Olivia.

If she’s down to party, she’s hitting up JJ and knows how to have a good time but knows her limit. Full on compliments from the long haired blond whenever he see’s her and he may or may not get a dance with her. “C’mon! None of that I don’t dance, crap!” “Okay, JJ! Just keep your hands where I can see them.” “Forsure! I’m a total gentleman, just ask all my lady lovers.” “This is where I leave you.” “Awww c’mon! I’m just giving a reference!”

She wasn’t the closest with asher, even when he dated Liv after Layla. She honestly didn’t approve of the relationship but Liv wasn’t trying to hear that. They actually shared some words here and there but now? They speak to each other much calmer now that he’s having a baby and is full of questions. Ada’s actually befriended Jaimee/Jaymee quite easily and Asher just wanted to get along with everyone that was cool with his gf.

Asher is the one constantly asking questions whereas Jaimee just tends to go with the flow. He’ll even text Ada at odd hours asking questions just to be hit with, “Asher, it’s midnight. Go to bed or I’ll cancel your ass again.” “Okay but before you consider doing that! What does colic mean again?” “Sorry but…Google is free.” “Who needs google when I have the real thing here?” “👋🏽” “hello?”

I’d say she’s probably closest with Jaimee and maybe Patience. They’re usually the two she’s hanging out with while the rest of the vortex maybe busy and if she isn’t dragged to hang with Jordayla (mostly by the request of Layla) and Liv or isn’t hanging out with her daughter or her own group tbh.

How does she feel about jordayla? It wasn’t much of a shock to her (or anyone) that this was a thing. Everyone knew and they failed so horribly to “hide it.”

They were all in each other’s faces like no one else was in the room at the baker’s household

“Well this is disturbing.” Ada mumbled to her mom, popping a zucchini slice in her mouth while she bounced her giggling daughter on one hip. Which earned a shush from Laura and a cackle from Liv.

Overall she may shit-talk the relationship but she’s happy that her brother found true love again after Simone and she definitely drags Jordan for proposing but is all smiles when Layla actually asks her to be a bridesmaid with a gift way down the line.

She’s a spelivia shipper, always rooting for them and she was always fond of Spencer the more he came around…kinda liking the idea that he may have biologically been a brother. Ada wouldn’t have minded another brother and Spencer seemed to become that regardless of blood and she liked how he always looked out for everyone (a gift and a curse!), especially Liv.

With Spencer came coop and just like Asher, Ada also had her ups and downs in their friendship but most of the time they got along and kinda had to since they all lived together.

Ada Baker is ultimately type 4, “the individualist,”(“Fours want to be unique and to experience deep, authentic emotions. Type Fours fear they are flawed and are overly focused on how they are different from other people”) when it comes to the vortex and basically life.

🍋 🐚🍋🐚🍋🐚🍋🐚🍋🐚🍋🐚🍋🐚🍋🐚

Continue along with my summer anthology prompts here.

[omg-snakes]

what schedule do you feed your corn snakes on (particularly babies, but i would like to know about juveniles and adults as well since ideally mine will grow up to be one eventually), and how do you determine the size and amount of m.ice they get each time? i've seen lots of different schedule guidelines, some going by the snake''s length and some by weight, and i don't know which is the best to try and follow. like one site says until 15g they should be fed a p.inky every 4-5 days, but another site says they should be fed every 5-7 days until they're over 18 inches long and only says a feeder the size of the thickest part of the snake's body. i really want the best for my snake as she grows but i have no idea what the best guideline to follow is :(

Hey friend!

This is definitely something that gets easier with experience, and hopefully I can give you some guidelines to help make things easier while you get accustomed to your snake's needs.

For babies, I feed every 4-6 days or thereabouts. While I do aim for 5 days on the dot it doesn't always pan out in real life. Baby snakes are tough little critters, though, and an extra 24-48 hours of waiting for a meal on occasion isn't going to cause them to shrivel up. As long as meals are generally consistent, they'll be fine. I personally feed every 5 (ish) days for the first six months of life, and then if they're up to large pinkies by this point I gradually stretch their meals to every 7 (ish) days. Little guys and late starters will get more frequent meals until everybody's on the same growth trajectory. Subadults eat every 7 days until their fourth birthday, and then once they're adults they'll eat every 10-14 days for males and nonbreeding females and every 7 days for breeding females. Sometimes they get pushed a few days or even skip a meal entirely. If they're in shed, sometimes I'll elect not to offer. As long as meals are generally consistent with only occasional deviations, they'll be perfectly fine.

I tend to feed by weight since that's a little more easy to measure than length. Most snakes don't appreciate being stretched out against a measuring tape anyway. Also I suck at estimating so I ignore the "1x - 1.5x body width" thing. There are online tools to allow you to measure a snake coiled up if you take a photo of them next to a ruler but honestly who has time for all that? Just get a $10 kitchen scale and live your best life.

Baby snakes can take up to 20% of their body weight in a single meal. This means that a 10 gram baby can eat a 2 gram pinky without any trouble. A 20 gram baby can eat a 4 gram large pinky or small fuzzy or two 2 gram pinkies, etc. I recommend offering two smaller prey items for a few meals before stepping up to a single larger prey.

After they get up to fuzzies, start scaling that caloric intake back a bit to about 15%, and keep an eye on their body condition. Most adults need about 10% of their body weight per meal but it depends on their condition and metabolism. It's not a one-size-fits-all situation. Just like dogs and cats and humans, we all have different metabolisms and different individual caloric needs. As you get more familiar with your snake, you'll learn to read their body language and understand their metabolism and how best to maintain a healthy body condition.

I know so many people, even big-name breeders, who have obese corn snakes or who overfeed or "power-feed" snakes to get them to breeding size by their third birthday. Growth is about sustained health, not about making the biggest possible snake in the least amount of time. Corn snakes should be strong, long, and lean, with straight sides and a curved back like a loaf of banana bread. Some snakes will be more active or have a naturally faster metabolism and need more food, and some snakes will be naturally more lazy and need a little less. As you get to know them, you'll have a good idea of where they fall on the spectrum and adjust your husbandry to meet their individual need.

I recommend taking a look at some corn snake body condition guides to get an idea of what is "too thin" versus "too fat" and try to keep your snake right in the middle. Are they looking a tad lean after a shed or during the summer months on their regular diet? Increase prey size slightly or reduce time between meals. Are they looking a little pudgy? Decrease prey size, reduce meal frequency, and offer enrichment activities that encourage your snake to move and use their muscles.

If you're feeling unsure, never be afraid to pop your snake and/or their meal on the scale and give yourself some peace of mind.

You got this!

[geminai-ramblez]

❝EYES LIKE YOURS ARE HARD TO COME BY❞

It wasn't normal to see a short body run on top of rooftops, flipping in ways that no normal person should be able to, and have a voice that silently - and yet loudly - proclaims its excitement.

Izuku tried to stay quiet as he got near Yushiro's place, but he couldn't help the excitement, relief, and euphoria he felt. Flashes of Yushiro hit him in waves, and the smile—grin—widened as he landed near the window that was lit.

Tanjiro would've liked to knock on the door, but there was no time. Even if it seemed like they had all the time in the world to contact one another.

After a small intake of breath, he landed on the narrow window sill and knocked on the glass gently. The window opened quickly, and emerald green eyes saw lavender for the very first time.

A lot of emotions arose underneath his skin: distrust, indifference, fear, happiness, and elation. He stopped himself from doing something embarrassing, but his waterworks were kinda of inevitable. Thankfully, he didn't cry, yet he was close. Very, very close.

"Yushiro-San," Izuku murmured in older-ish Japanese, "Tanjiro—or do you prefer Izuku?" asked Yushiro in the same language. While Yushiro wouldn't care if Tanjiro, or is it Izuku(?), wanted to use his older name or current name, he still deserves, at least, some respect.

"Tanjiro... will be fine," Izuku informed as he entered inside the small apartment, "Pardon for the intrusion," he added belatedly. "It's a bit late for that," remarked Yushiro as he closed up the window and currents.

A meow caught Izuku's attention and when he looked in the direction of where he heard it, he was surprised just a bit to see Chachamaru. "So, Chachamaru survived?" Izuku asked, Chachamaru walked up to Izuku with its tail up and purred happily while rubbing on Izuku.

"Humans aren't the only ones to become demons, you know?" Yushiro muttered while glaring at Chachamaru that hasn't changed much in attitude after all these years.

"Oh," Izuku said, feeling a bit stupid about—well, everything—his head wasn't in the right place right now, but he shooed away those thoughts and looked at Yushiro.

Yushiro glanced back—analyzing this reincarnation—one of the first things that, in Yushiro's opinion, was ironic, was that Tanjiro was green. Not like green as if he were sick but his hair and eyes were actually green in color. Much like the checkered haori, he wore back then.

Another thing he noticed when he opened the window was the wave of emotions that he felt in Tanjiro. Every human being, even demons, gave off a chemical that showed how they felt. What Tanjiro felt was a huge contradiction that Yushiro couldn't decipher on his own, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth that Tanjiro, of all people, felt fear towards him.

Something was off about him. It's something Yushiro was very certain about.

Both men had a stare-off and, surprisingly, it was Yushiro who broke it. Usually, it was Tanjiro since he tended to speak a lot, but it was Yushiro who asked first, "Are you going to spill or did you come here for a get-together?" Yushiro said blankly.

It took a second, a second longer than Tanjiro would've spoken, but he answered—simple and straightforward—not kind or warm like how he would've spoken.

"Sorry, just something in my mind," Tanjiro answered. He sat on the couch and took a small, deep breath, looking at Yushiro with undecipherable eyes, and it threw Yushiro off-guard. It helped further make this reincarnation suspicious, but something in Yushiro's head told him to just, 'Wait, wait. He'll say something. Just wait: be patient.'

In Izuku's head, the storm of emotions grew to be insufferable. Genya never met Yushiro, so it's obvious that he was distrustful towards the demon, but feeling indifferent and nervous and happy at the same time was really messing him—them—up. It took a second, but they spoke. They all spoke up so that Yushiro could help them with their current issue.

"You've already caught on to how I act," Tanjiro started, "and it's inevitable to hide this as some sort of odd quirk or attitude change I've picked up due to the environment I grew up in this quirked society. You have questions... and I will answer them the best I can regarding me."

"You know, you sound very formal," Yushiro said quickly, "Way too formal even for yourself, Kamado Tanjiro."

Izuku blinked but chuckled a bit, "Ah, my apologies," Kanao said instinctively, but they continued on; "Is it that odd of me to speak like that?"

"Definitely," Yushiro said without hesitation. "What's up with you? It looks like someone kicked your pet and damned your mother." One thing that hasn't changed was Yushiro calling him out—guess some things just never change.

"A lot of things," Izuku replied nonchalantly, unnerving Yushiro, 'Great, did he become depressed or something? I know I'm a doctor but not a therapist.'

"If you came here to rant about your problems, seek professional help-"

"I'm not just Tanjiro," Izuku cut him off quickly, "What?" Yushiro murmured, observing Tanjiro—no, not just Tanjiro—in disbelief. "I'm not just Tanjiro, Yushiro-San..." Izuku said quietly.

His emerald eyes dulling in colour too quickly for Yushiro's liking, "It's complicating and will sound absurd -"

"When was something more absurd than creatures that were similar in human nature and special abilities?" Joked Yushiro to get some hint of life in Tanjiro's(?) eyes.

It did work, somewhat, but that glint—full of sadness and grief and unresolved horrors was evident—still remained. Yushiro disliked it. "Heh, but it will sound—more absurd than... than demons," Tanjiro said calmly, like something that would've come to be revealed without an option to say 'yes' or 'no.'

"Well?" Yushiro prompted, curiosity—no matter how wrong it felt—was killing the cat, "As I said, I'm not just Kamado Tanjiro, so I'll introduce myself properly."

'Properly?' thought Yushiro.

"It's nice to meet you properly, Yushiro-San. I'm Agatsuma Zenitsu," the yellow, thunder breather that fought a newly formed Uppermoon Six rung a bell in Yushiro's head, 'So, two—no, three—souls sharing a body? How's that-'

"Hashibira Inosuke," the boar head, "Kamado Nezuko," the voice—their voice—sounded a bit more feminine, "Kamado Tanjiro," just a bit—just a moment—did it actually sound like Tanjiro, "Shinazugawa Genya," Yushiro didn't know who that was immediately but - the surname... the name sounded familiar.

'Oh,' Yushiro quickly realized why, 'He died: the Wind Pillar's little brother,' no wonder he didn't have a face to recognize because the boy was already dead due to a Uppermoon. And that fact... well, it was empty, "And Tsuyuri Kanao," finished Tanjiro—or is it Nezuko? Zenitsu?

"Wait," Yushiro put the thought of the Wind Pillar's little brother behind him and focused on the now. The answer to his main question regarding Tanjiro, and yet it wasn't just Tanjiro here; it was like six other people, the majority he recognized but never further got to know for many reasons. He only kept in contact with the Kamados and only the Kamados after the war. He was talking to six people—six souls—that he knew and didn't know at the same time, "How did- how...?"

Izuku looked at Yushiro in sympathy because neither he—nor they— knew how their existence came to be. He was an abnormality. A mistake that was given a chance to see the world from many perspectives simultaneously.

They wanted to give Yushiro a proper explanation, but there wasn't one. At least one that gave a definite answer to how they came to be. Izuku didn't know how one body could host multiple souls, different lives that arrived at the same, and just go on with its day.

But he guessed that those who didn't remember had the luxury of not being in their position. It was complicated and lonely being in their shoes. The constant flashbacks of not one life but another, a lost family, ostracized, constant reminders of failing people, horrors that no—normal—human being should remember or even try... So many things happening at the same time.

It's a miracle that they are even alive now. They lasted this long despite and... at least the comfort of one another—helped soothe the loud voice inside Izuku's mind from taking over... and doing the unforgivable.

Izuku breathed in and out and looked at Yushiro, "I hope we can get along, Yushiro-San," uttered the amalgamation of souls.

[luveline]

requester wanted to be anon! i tried my best and didn’t want to get too specific in case I made an error. i hope this is okay! tw: disordered eating, negative self talk

"And did you finish lunch?" Peter asks, head poking in the cupboard over the countertop, looking for something to make for dinner.

"Mostly," you say.

He turns his head, peering over his shoulder at you. You're sitting at the dinner table, looking antsy. That's not a very fair indicator of your mood; the kitchen always makes you restless.

"What counts as mostly, sweetheart?"

"I didn't eat the grilled cheese."

"But all the soup?"

"Yup."

He turns back to the cupboard, thinking. He has no clue what to make. "That's good." He holds in the 'well done' that naturally wants to tack on the end.

"What's for dinner?"

He bites his lip. "What do you want?"

He knows your very first instinct is to say nothing. He can hear the little intake of breath as your mouth opens like it might slip out. You clear your throat instead. "What's our options?"

"Nothing interesting here. How 'bout we go get something?"

"Like takeout?" you ask anxiously.

"No, not if you don't want it. We can go to the grocery store, get something nice. Yeah?" he asks, closing the cupboard door with a finality.

He turns, leans on the countertop as you think it over. He knows giving you the choice is his best play tonight when you're not feeling your best.

You're wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, angling your face so he can't quite see it, an agony for him, tapping your socked heel against the floor over and over and over.

"I don't really want to go out," you admit.

He leans back on his elbows. "You wanna talk about it?"

"I feel like… puffy. Like I look weird." You don't say fat. He knows that's what you mean.

Peter doesn't care if you're fat. He couldn't care less about your weight, period, but he worries when you get like this because you're hurting about it, and because you struggle to eat during it.

"You're not 'puffy'."

"I'm not not puffy."

"You're perfect."

"I'm fat."

He frowns at you not because he thinks fat is a bad word, but because you've internalised it as an insult. That it's a placeholder for wrong in your head, unconscious thinking wrapped so tightly around your thoughts it has you skipping meals and hiding in too-big clothing.

"You're beautiful," he says. "You look beautiful. But if you don't want to go out that's fine. I'm a pretty good cook, you know."

You smile at him begrudgingly. "I know you are."

Boosted immeasurably by your smile he pulls open the fridge and starts pulling out whatever fresh (ish) vegetables you have left.

"Come on, pretty girl," he says, dumping the vegetables in a colander to wash. "I need your lovely hands. You're on chopping duty for me while I make the rice. We'll have minestrone."

You join him at the counter, looking embarrassed.

He pulls the rice cooker from under the sink and sets it on the counter, allowing himself a good, long look at you as you push up your sleeves to wash the vegetables.

You tip dripping broccoli and lettuce and carrots out on the wooden chopping board, a knife in your hand before you notice he's paused in action.

"What?" you ask suspiciously.

He approaches slowly to avoid an accidental stabbing and pulls your head towards his mouth so he can kiss your hairline. "You're beautiful. You have to know that."

You roll your eyes and turn away from him, a bashfulness in your stance as you duck your head. He doesn't let up, fingers running down your naked arm to catch your wrist, which he also brings to his mouth for a bathing of kisses.

He hopes you can feel the pride and love in each one.

[itcanbegoodagain]

What I would want Peeta to say and do to me if I was Katniss, is how I think this deserves to be summed up.

Word Count: 1971

Rating: 18+. Mature, but not explicit. Sexytimes after the break.

Sliding down into the tub, I allow the sweet smell of the soap to engulf me, my eyes falling shut as the warm water creeps up my skin. My aching muscles relax, the tension seeping out of them as quickly as it appeared. The first week or two of hunting in the snow is always harder than I’m anticipating it to be. But I’ll be just fine.

I know Peeta’s home when I hear his gait on the creaking, wooden stairs. Deciding to stay put, I wait for him to find me in the bathroom. He’s home a little early today. Oh, lucky wife am I.

And, truly, I am. There is no better man out there than Peeta. So when he gently knocks on the door, I smile to myself. “You can come in.” My head falls back to rest on the lip of the tub, providing me with a better vantage point to see him.

The door pushes open slowly, and Peeta steps through, shutting the door behind him. Not necessary, since we’re the only ones that live in this house. But no complaints here. Just observations.

“Hi baby,” he says, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms across his chest. There is a slight uptilt to his lips, one that usually indicates a particular line of thinking. I wonder what I’m in for.

I take this chance to stare at him, lazily moving my gaze head to toe, as I know he is sizing me up, too. I avoid the urge to shift my legs together too soon, anticipating the exquisite touch of his hands that’s sure to come.

He’s wearing his normal dark-wash trousers, a long-sleeved shirt in lieu of his usual attire. The tip of his nose is just the littlest bit red. The snow gets to bakers, too, then. Briefly, I wonder what the cold of his nose would feel like while his lips make their way up my thighs. I do know how his body feels, though, as I take in the way his shirt hugs in all the perfect places.

“Hi baby,” I repeat back softly, not wanting to raise my voice too much for fear of bursting this liminal moment we’ve created. It could go very different ways. I know which way I want it to go, and if I know anything about him, I know what he wants, too.

Neither of us moves to break eye contact. Peeta does, however, slowly peel off the counter, walking around the end of the tub to kneel on the ground next to me. His arms rise up to rest on the edge, his fingertips barely brushing the water.

We haven’t lost eye contact this entire time, so when he licks his lips and says what he does next, I am malleable. Pliable. Putty, in his hands only.

“You look very beautiful today,” he says. Normal words, predictable words, but the way he says it - the way he looks at me as he says it - mouthwatering.

Desperation. That’s the thing in my throat that won’t let any other words get out. Desperation to touch, to be touched, which I can see reflected in Peeta’s face, the slight trembling of his fingers.

“You know, these bathrooms really are too large. Look, I take up only half the tub!” I tell him.

He grins. “I have to disagree. There’s only room for one kickass woman in the tub.”

I hum. Trail my fingers, dripping warm water, through my hair. “Too bad. That kickass woman was hoping she’d have someone come join her.”

This is what really catches him. His voice, usually honey-sweet, is strained, just enough to be noticeable. “In that case, I think I might know someone.”

I take a deep breath, surveying him for another moment. “Well, tell him to come my way.”

With that in the air, he finally, finally kisses me. Kisses me with the force of someone who’s been holding back just long enough that they’re about to splinter. His fingers, the tips wet from resting in the water, find their way into my hair, his thumb tilting my head up beneath the chin. Already, he is biting and tugging at my lip with his teeth, which is one of the things he’s best at. Or maybe I just like it.

The kiss is both quenching and provoking. Yes, I finally can taste the love and lust on his lips, but it only makes me want him more. That’s how it works with us. Has since basically day one, though I was blind to it for a while.

Peeta stops for a moment, close enough that we are still sharing the same air. “How can I help you, my dear?” he asks, voice more rattled than before, as one of his hands dips into the water. His fingers find and, gently, scratch along the sensitive skin at my knee. I shiver, despite the warm water. He grins, noticing the gooseflesh that’s appeared on my skin at his mere touch.

A sharp intake of breath fills my lungs, and it takes me a moment to answer. “First, you’re in an unfair amount of clothes.”

He nods his head, pulling his arm out of the water to grab the hem of his shirt and yank it off, the cuff damp where the water had almost reached the sleeve after he rolled it up. His trousers quickly follow, though his undershorts stay on for now. “What else?”

In response, I stand up, careful not to send water pouring over the edge. Peeta stands as well, reaching over to grab a towel and stepping closer to wrap it around me. His hands pause on my shoulders, holding the towel in place around me. He raises his eyebrows. Next?

I send him the best, most flirty smile I can muster. It's never been my strong suit. Then I remove the towel, allowing him to keep it. The moment he realizes my intentions, it’s discarded to the floor, easily and gladly forgotten. In his eyes, I can tell he wants to touch me, desperately, but I make him wait just a little longer.

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, one of such need and desire, that it sends a flash of pride through me. Turning a man on is so much more fun than I ever thought it could be. It makes you feel powerful, even if it’s just one person for one moment.

But with Peeta, there are so many moments like that. He praises, he worships me, but it’s never over the top. It is always in the actions: letting me fall asleep in his lap, leaving breakfast on the table, placing kisses along my skin after I have been well and truly tumbled. Doing as much as he can to please me. Yes, indeed. I am a lucky wife.

After I’ve planted myself on the bathroom counter, the edge lining up dangerously with the part of me that is Peeta’s next destination, he is on his knees again. He begins his ministrations slowly, each brush of his fingers or lips on my skin like an electric shock. My skin is so, so sensitive, and he is so, so gentle. There’s nothing better.

By the time he reaches my knees, he has scooted closer, his shoulderblades now between my legs to give him the proper access he requires. Each touch of his mouth to my skin makes it harder not to move, but I try my best. As he nears the top of my thighs, he takes one leg and throws it over his shoulder, carelessly, I would say, if it were anyone else.

“So,” he begins, frequently pausing to occupy his mouth in less talkative ways, “there is so much time left, so many things to do.” His tongue traces a thin line up the most sensitive part of my inner thigh. I gasp, eyes falling shut, hips beginning to squirm. One of his hands pushes back on my hipbone, his fingertips pressing into the skin just hard enough to leave marks. Marks for him to see, later. Maddening. “Where shall I begin?”

I realize, maybe two seconds too late, that he is genuinely asking. “Katniss, baby,” he continues, his rough voice sounding heavenly from between my legs. “Tell me how to help.” To emphasize his point, he flips my other leg over his shoulder, effectively trapping himself between and beneath me.

I gasp again, trying to get the words out. In a moment of clarity, I’m able to string together these words: “Kiss me.”

He hums, running his hands over my hips, back and forth. “From down here?”

Smartass. “Not on my lips,” I manage.

He grins, a fiercely boyish grin that I sometimes forget he’s capable of. “I see. Well, since you asked so nicely…”

I choke out a laugh. “Right. As if you didn’t come home with it already in mind.”

He laughs too, but doesn’t allow it to linger for long. “You got me there.” He says this one moment, and the next, his face is hidden and his mouth and tongue are doing such extraordinary things, and, god, his nose -

Well. I hit the nail on the head with that one.

My fingers curl into his hair, urging him on as I push him closer. I can feel his grin, so I give a sharp tug on the hair I have in hand as recompense. This pulls another sound out of his throat, a gasp out of his mouth. Both feel lovely, situated where he is. So I continue to pull at his hair when he needs some humbling.

It's breathless, it's wonderful, it's only the beginning. I'm trembling, grateful to be sitting, as he makes his way up my body. Lingering kisses on my hips, along my stomach, up my chest. He stays at my neck for a while, paying particular attention there, surely leaving behind bruises that can easily be covered by a turtleneck in this cool weather.

--

A good chunk of time passes before I'm able to drag his lips back to mine, feeling like I might die if I don't get to kiss him right this second. He happily obliges, as he knows that he is good with his mouth. In several different regards. But who's keeping track? Certainly, certainly not me.

My hands, itching to touch his skin, smooth down his shoulders, wrapping around his back, pulling him even closer. Now, he is standing again, my legs circling his waist. Our bodies are pressed together at their most intimate places, though his undershorts are still on. Slowly, I run one of my hands down his side, making sure to take my time, before sliding the tips of my fingers below his waistband. I don't move them, I don't try to take his boxers off, I just let them rest there. Let Peeta give me this incredulous, sex-addled smirk.

"Yes?" I ask. "Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. I'm just thinking..." he trails off for a moment, leaving me to fill in the blank. "Well, you know, it's not only the tubs that are too big for one person. The showers are, too. Haven't you noticed?"

Tapping my chin, I pretend to ponder his question. "Truly? I haven't. Do you care to show me?"

He swoops in for another kiss, this one full of teeth and lips and pressure. He steals my breath away. "Gladly," he says, grinning, hauling me off the counter.

With a quick turn of the knobs, the warm spray of water begins falling from the shower head, and, truthfully, there is no way to describe what happens next. No way to describe it other than really, really good sex.

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

Patch Me Up

Pairing - Vampire!Diluc x Fem!Reader

Warnings - 18+ NSFW, Blood kink obviously, marking kink, biting kink, sharp teeth BARK BARK, fingering, semi public sex??? I mean you guys were in a different room but it was still in a public establishment lol,

Word Count - 1.9k

Other Comments - Bro this idea was just way way way too good to pass up shout out to the anon who requested this because you know what's up; you got some good ass taste. And yes this does have Twilight vibes, what about it.

Ask - VAMPIRE DILUC SMUT I FUCKING BEG YOU

Diluc was a very secluded man, always keeping up thick walls, borderline impossible to penetrate; but there was something about you. You enraptured him, always wearing a bright kind smile when you saw him. Most people found his stand off-ish personality jarring, to which they regarded him with side eyes and cold shoulders unless asking for alcohol.

He looked forward to when you would come into his tavern, it was easy to spark up conversation. You quickly became one of his regulars when you first came into the tavern a few months ago. At first he regarded you with the same cold yet professional tone he regarded most of his customers with; but when you weren’t put off by it and asked how his day had been he was surprised to say the least. After that it was always a high point of his day asking you how your adventures were.

Today was different. You strolled into the tavern at your usual time, but when that door opened a strong delicious scent washed over Diluc. It made his mouth water and his throat burn. When he looked up to see what was going on, to see the cause of his bodily reactions, he saw you limping in; bruises and cuts covering your exhausted body. This was bad. You smelled way too good.

Diluc’s hands became clammy under his gloves, and a sheen of sweat formed on his forehead. He wanted- no, needed, to taste you. To drink you. You smelled almost candy-like, similar to when all of the sweet flowers came to bloom; but better. Diluc’s fists curled into tight balls behind the counter as you approached. He wanted to tell you to leave, to stop walking towards him, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

Were it anyone else and he would’ve quickly been able to shut down the issue by telling them to go see someone who could patch them up first, but this was you. There was something else too, something in the back of his mind. He was worried for you.

“Hey, how’s my favorite bartender doing?” Your voice was raspy, from what exactly Diluc didn’t know, but he wasn’t surprised from seeing your current state. Something in him warmed when you said that though.

“Uh, fine. More importantly, shouldn’t Barbara be patching you up? Why are you in my tavern bleeding on my floors.” Diluc tried to make his voice harsh, but it came out more sarcastic and joking. You chuckled in response to his statement.

“What, you can’t help me?” Diluc stiffened. You wanted him to help you? Why? He has shown no knowledge of medicine, let alone any real concern for you.

“I have no knowledge of medicine, why would you want me to patch you up?” Diluc was more than confused. There were so many other people you knew who were so much more capable of helping you. He was starting to get irritated, not particularly by you, but by your scent. It was driving him crazy and he was surprised he was able to keep his composure as well as he was right now.

“Listen you need to get help before you come in and drink (y/n). Not only are you obviously tired and hurt, you smell.” Shit. Shit you were gonna get suspicious of him and-

“No shit I smell! I’ve been sweating up a storm fighting things, Master Diluc.” Diluc was taken aback by your words, which seemed to be a running theme tonight. You just wouldn’t stop saying the oddest things.

“You’re not going to leave unless I help you, aren’t you?” You smiled victoriously as you shook your head ‘no’. Diluc sighed, as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He just had to get through this, then everything would stop. All the saliva, the burning of his throat, the sweating, the desire for you.

It was only when Diluc retrieved a few bandages from the emergency kit he had prepared and he began bandaging up your various cuts, did he notice just how attractive you were. Diluc had removed his gloves, and your skin was so soft under his surprisingly delicate fingers. He wanted to make sure he didn’t cause any discomfort to you, so he treated you like a thin sheet of glass.

There was a softness to him that he didn’t think existed anymore. He didn’t think he was capable of being so gentle with someone. You somehow brought out the best in him, in just the short time you’ve known each other. He never thought he would be able to get so close to someone again. Fuck he really liked you.

“Diluc, you don’t have to be so gentle with me; clearly I can take a beating.” A chuckle rumbled deep in the man’s chest, his crimson eyes never leaving the injury he was dressing.

“Pardon me for wanting you to be comfortable.” You giggled, and it was the most melodic noise he’d ever heard. He wanted to hear you laugh more.

Despite the soft atmosphere, there was still something primal deep within Diluc. He could feel it grow with the more time he spent taking in your delicious scent. If Diluc could blush, he was sure his face would be deep red by now. He wanted to take you right here and now, in the cellar where he kept all his beverages that weren’t needed behind the counter. He delicately moved some of your hair out of your face so he could get to a small scrape on your left cheek. He saw a blush rise to the high points of your cheeks, which only egged on his desire for you. All he could do was stare deep into your eyes. You were breathtaking.

Within seconds both or your lips collided together in a heated kiss. It was fierce and heartfelt. His hands grabbed at your body for purchase, and vice versa. It had the both of you panting, with each intake of oxygen you sent wafted over him stronger than ever before; you were like an addictive perfume. Without thinking Diluc pulled away, staring at your flushed face.

“Let me taste you, fuck I need to mark you up. Make you mine.” You nodded your head feverishly. Diluc’s mouth attacked your neck within seconds of your response, and suddenly his teeth punctured your skin. You blood landed on his tongue and he was addicted. You were his new favourite drug. You tasted exactly like he’d imagine, sweet and light; something he’d never get enough of.

“D..Diluc what-” Before you could finish your sentence, Diluc’s mouth unlatched from your neck, some of your blood smudged at the corner of his mouth.

“Shit (y/n) I apologize, you just.. Fuck you taste so good. I mean you smell so sweet but you taste even better I couldn’t control myself.”

“Diluc, are you like a vampire or something?” You chuckled a little, voice still a little breathy. By the tone of your voice, Diluc knew you meant that as a joke but when he didn’t respond the look on your face changed. The silence weighed heavy on top of Diluc, borderline suffocating. Diluc couldn’t meet your gaze.

“Keep going.” Your voice was soft, just above a whisper, as you moved your head to expose your neck even more. Diluc’s gaze snapped back up immediately to yours, then down to your neck. Then his gaze drifted further down. He was hard.

He attacked your neck once more, getting taken away but how good you tasted. After a few moments, a small moan escaped your lips, so quiet that Diluc would’ve missed it were he not have been hyper aware of your breathing. Once again Diluc’s mouth left your neck, but this time his hands started to roam down towards your pants. He stopped just before unbuttoning them.

“Is… is this alright (y/n)?” You didn’t even respond verbally, just nodding enthusiastically before gripping onto his shoulders. Without anymore hesitation Diluc unbuttoned your pants and almost ripped them off of you. He quickly pinned up against the wall of the cellar, as he pulled your panties to the side and rubbed your clit. Your breath hitched in your throat, before a low moan escaped your lips.

Fueled on by your noise, Diluc retracted his hand from your clit and shoved two of his fingers into your already sopping cunt.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet already.” His fingers worked you open, as his dick strained against his uncomfortably tight slacks. He was becoming impatient, but he wanted to make sure you were nice and open so he didn’t hurt you. After a few more minutes of fingering, he could tell you were starting to become impatient as well.

“Diluc please, I need you. I need to feel you deep. Ah fuck Diluc please.” The strain in your voice when you said please shot straight to his dick, and who was he to refuse you? A dark smile graced his usually stoic features, and you shivered with anticipation. Diluc pulled his fingers out of you, before he licked his fingers clean. Everything about you was just so fucking delicious. Soon enough Diluc freed his hard cock from his pants. There was precum beading on the tip.

He picked you up, lifting you over his cock, before slowly lowering you down. Once you were finally sat right at the base of his dick, your back was once again pressed up against the wall, as he started to finally thrust in and out of you. It was slow for only a few moments, before he began a punishing pace. His hand had already gone to cover your mouth, muffling your loud moans. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to last long, you were so tight, but it seemed you were in a similar boat, as your walls constricted around him.

Your moans were growing in volume and pitch as you got closer and closer to the edge, and Diluc’s breathing was becoming labored, letting out low groans and growls. Before either of you knew it, both of you were cumming. Before you could finish, Diluc sunk his teeth into your neck one more time. He rocked both of you through your orgasms, before pulling away and setting you back down on the ground. He made sure to keep an arm around you though, just in case your legs decided to give out.

Slowly but surely both of you began to dress yourselves again; attempting to make yourselves presentable. After a few moments of silence, you spoke.

“So you’re a vampire. Do you have any cool powers?” You had a lopsided smile on your face, as Diluc chuckled and softly nudged your shoulder. You really were something else.

[bangtae-sohotddaeng]

nugatory | p.jm. | drabble

pairing: jimin x reader (ft. taehyung)

rating: m (18+)

genre: smut | angst | college!au

summary: Park Jimin is many things. Park Jimin is a responsible, smart, handsome and musically talented Taekwondo black belt. Park Jimin is Kim Taehyung's best friend. Park Jimin is a good friend. Park Jimin is a compulsive matchmaker. Park Jimin is many things – but he is not the guy you should be sitting in a car with, right now.

warnings: swearing + sexual situations (nudity, semi-public sexual acts in a car, fingering, penetrative sex) + possible allusions to some infidelity if you squint?

word count: 3.2 k

note: y��all. i couldn’t let butter!jimin keep ruining my life without acting out a bit, could i? this one started off as a pwp, but then i ended up combining it with a plot i had in my head for a while, and this turned into more plot and less porn, but. i’m okay with that, tbh. also! i’ve used one my older styles of writing (going back to 2016-ish) with this one. hope you all like it~ 🥺💜

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

Park Jimin is many things.

He is an astoundingly handsome, cheerful – and yet somehow mysterious – psychology major that you shared Freshman year's communications class with. He is the only rich kid among the majority on campus that doesn't flaunt his wealth to scholarship kids like you. He is kind, helpful, generous – did you mention handsome? – perfectly athletic and perfectly aesthetic.

Park Jimin is a responsible, smart, handsome and musically talented Taekwondo black belt.

He is also someone that gets excited at the prospect of claw machines at fairs. He is also someone that looks at the universe with galaxies in his eyes. He is also someone that doesn’t realize he will always be more exquisite than any art his best friend might ever create.

Park Jimin is Kim Taehyung's best friend.

He is the guy that stood next to Kim Taehyung when Taehyung asked you to the Freshman dance. He is the guy that told you Kim Taehyung has the most gigantic crush on you. He is the guy that set you up on the first of your many dates with Kim Taehyung.

Park Jimin is a good friend.

Park Jimin is a compulsive matchmaker.

Park Jimin is many things – but he is not the guy you should be sitting in a car with, right now.

"You really don't have to worry about me, Jimin," you mumble, eyes flickering all over his face – you always tend to drink him up the best you can, whenever you can. “I know I stupidly called you here, but I was just in shock. I’m okay, now. I’ll be fine.”

"No, I do have to worry." His fingers thread through his hair, your eyes hopelessly follow. "This was stupid and reckless of Tae. I'm sure he'll come back to his senses soon."

You blink. Jimin really has absolutely no grasp of this situation. But he obviously thinks he knows everything, which is making this conversation progressively difficult.

(His muscles bulging beneath his jeans and the t-shirt he wears are a contributing factor in making this conversation difficult, too, you won't lie.)

You breathe out, partly to collect your thoughts, and partly because you've been inhaling too much of his heady cologne and it’s making you think about—

Things. 

It's making you think about things. That you should have no business thinking about. Because you and his best friend have been going on dates. The same best friend who is currently, as you speak, on a date with someone else. Alluding to the reason why you have called up Park Jimin to see you in a confused panic, after ten, at night, at your place.

"Taehyung – he, um. He didn't see us going anywhere. We'd been on nine dates, but… He said he didn't think I was actually as into him as he is into me. He didn't want to go on like that." 

Jimin’s lips part. His brows hike up. You shrug, forcing your gaze away from the gloss on his lips.

���It’s been that way for a while. We were barely even texting. I think he has concluded that I don’t like him like that.”

Jimin rests his forearm on the steering wheel, almost leaning over the center console to catch your gaze. "Do you?"

His eyes pull you in like always and you're lost, just staring into their depths, as your mind ceases to think up thoughts that don't involve you and him naked and tangled up with each other in—

"Sweetheart?"

Your intake of breath is sharp, short and cold. Your insides are just as warm, turning everything in your head into incomprehensible mush. "Y–y–yeah?"

"Are you into Taehyung the way he is into you?" he whispers, and you follow the shape of his lips as they move. “Because you must know, he’s liked for a whole semester.”

You lick your lips, mindlessly nod, and then reach out with a finger to trace his cupid's bow. He doesn't pull away, he doesn't even flinch. "What do you think?"

His warm breath washes over your fingertip as you press it against his lower lip. His body jolts when your nail rims the plush cushion. "I… think he's my bestest friend in the world and he's basically in love with you…"

You shake your head, and your other hand travels past the console to grip his thigh. Your nails dig in. His breath catches. "He's on a date with someone else, as we're speaking."

"I just—he was so into you, I thought you'd be good for each other." 

Past the cloud of, well, something incomprehensible, there is disappointment in Jimin's gaze. And that is how you know he means it. You shouldn't be surprised, really, because Park Jimin always means everything he does, he doesn't have a single conniving bone in his body, but you still are. Part of you has hoped against hope that he set you up with Taehyung to get closer to you, himself. Which – sounds like a really flawed plan and doesn't really make much sense, now that you think about it.

But you still hoped.

Now—

Now, though. Now you know otherwise.

"How can I be good for someone else when I have never even been good for me?" you don't know why you confessed to that, but the words just tumble out of you and you let them. "I'm a mess, Jimin," you whisper, accentuating your point by massaging his lower lip by your index finger. "I destroy people, and I nearly destroy myself in the process. I am an emotional and psychological train wreck. He's better off without me. Anybody would be better off without me."

Jimin grips your hand on his thigh with his own. “Not anybody,” he murmurs, and through his furrowed brows and muddled eyes, you catch an emotion you have been well acquainted with for years, now.

Longing.

Your heartbeat picks up as Jimin massages small circles on the back of your hand. You remove your other hand from his face.

“Yes, Jimin, anybody,” you say with conviction, even as you desperately hope for him to offer himself up as an alternative. “Everything is a wreck inside of my head. I can’t do relationships, I can’t even date someone without messing up.”

His pupils expand and his tongue flicks at his lower lip. His hand tightens in a grip on your other hand. His gorgeously bleached hair curl over the side of his head. "You don’t have to date, then.”

You scoff. “Taehyung would never go for—”

“I’m not talking about Taehyung,” Jimin’s voice comes out three octaves lower. “And you’re not talking about just anybody.”

You nearly stop breathing as he brings his free hand to your face, pushes a tendril of your hair behind your ear and traces a knuckle down the side of your face, your jaw, to hold your chin.

“You say you’re not good for you. Can you try to be good for me, then?" He pulls your face closer to his. “Would you let me save you from destroying yourself? Let me try to take care of the wreckage, hmm?”

Your body spasms when he reaches for the hand you’d retracted, pecks your finger before pulling it into his mouth. His tongue swirls, his teeth scrape and his eyes roll back as he sucks. He lets go with a pop. 

Boy, would you let him take care of whatever he wants.

"Can you, sweetheart? Can you be good for me?" He sounds like he’s at the brink of something, just teetering on the edge, waiting for you to flick a finger before he free-falls.

Well. You’ve been teetering for years now.

"I want to be.” You don’t sound like yourself when you speak.

And you don't sound like yourself when he pulls you on top of him. You don’t sound like yourself when your back hits the wheel, your thighs cage his, your hands instinctively twirl in his hair, and –

Your core presses up against his length. 

He's hard and straining against his tighter than sin jeans. You claw at his t-shirt. He takes it off in a swift, smooth motion — agile and rhythmic in everything he does.

You don’t feel like yourself when your eyes feast him. Because how could you ever get this lucky? How could you ever get to feel Park Jimin’s shirtless self beneath you? You had long since succumbed to your destiny of perishing in pining.

And yet, here you are.

You lean back to marvel at his toned, chiseled angles, you let your fingers smooth over every groove and crevice and line of sinew muscle you can reach. You trace his tight abdomen, nails scraping at the last of his eight-pack before veering towards his toned v-line. You shiver at the dark promises it leads to, looking up to meet his eye. And you shiver more when his feral gaze catches you.

Then he pulls you into a kiss and you're lost.

He tastes like stale coffee and breath mints and bad decisions –

He tastes delicious.

His tongue plunders your mouth, teeth bite into your lips—he pulls, pushes, drinks up, feasts. You throw your all into the kiss, meeting him in the middle with your tongue swirling with his, teeth latching on to suck at it. He groans into your mouth – all loud, and guttural and manly. And then he stops. Pulls away.

His wholly black eyes dig into yours. His lips are wet, swollen and bitten. You did that.

"You have to at least talk to him—"

"I have another important business to tend to, currently."

You grind against him and make your point. He bites down on his lip. His arms snake around your waist to cage you against him, he pulls you down on him. 

You don't recognize yourself when you moan.

Your shirt is off, your shorts are pulled down and your panties are pushed to a side—

"You can never tell him." Park Jimin glides two fingers over your wetness, making a bigger mess of you. "Never."

You don't intend to, because what you do with Park Jimin in your apartment's parking lot at eleven pm on a Saturday night is nobody's business but yours. 

His fingers part your entrance and slide in you abruptly, and you see stars. Your head tilts back on a long, drawn out moan, Jimin’s fingers picking up pace inside you. You rock on his hand, you claw at his arm, you desperately latch onto his shoulders and rest your forehead against his to ground yourself. He watches you with his half shuttered eyes threatening to eat you up whole. 

His lips press into yours, tongue swiping through your mouth, curling up behind your teeth – it's messy, it's sloppy, it's the most arousing kiss of your life.

His lips drag down the column of your neck, tongue licking at the sweat droplets quickly gathering above your collarbones, his fingers curl inside you, his teeth latch onto your shoulder.

You explode under his thumb's press against your clit and sob into his neck when he drags its nail over the sensitive bud. “Jimin, Jimin, too much~ ah!”

He presses some buttons in his fancy car and his seat inclines. He pulls you to the backseat with him. “You okay?” he breathes on your face, hovering inches above you.

“Never been better,” you truthfully breathe back, heart coiling in your chest at the radiant grin he rewards you with in response.

A blast of hot air hits your forehead, your thighs and your shins. You jump, realizing he has turned some sort of hot air blower on. “For privacy,” he says, gesturing to the rapidly fogging windows, and then flicks a switch to make the air stop.

You both gaze at each other. Your eyes flicker all over his face to save every last bit of it to memory. You self-consciously swallow when you see him do the same. “Jimin…”

He leans down to sponge a kiss to your sternum, and then your hips buck into his as his tongue licks a path on the wells of your breasts peeking above your bra. A breathless moan leaves you when he scrapes his teeth over your cloth covered nipple.

You both pause for a moment, wide eyes locking in surprise.

And then you’re ravenous.

He strips you bare when you tug at his belt, and you rush to return the favor. You struggle with getting his boxers past his plump ass as he grips onto your flesh, peppering bites down your hips, squeezes your boobs, licks at your nipples—

You grip him, warm and heavy, and glide your thumb over the leaking tip. His head falls into your nape, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. “Jimin, ple~ase,” you moan.

He plucks out a golden foil from his wallet, meeting your eyes as he tears the packet and rolls the condom onto himself. 

Your hands are pinned next to your head in a flash, his tongue teases your pulse point, teeth toy with your earlobe, and you writhe in want under him, eyes watering at the sweet torture.

And then he fills you up with a single thrust.

You freeze on a gasp.

His hair hangs over his eyes, irises lost to the lust storming in his pupils, his mouth gapes open, his chest is heaving.

“You good?” His voice is deeper than the ocean.

You've never been more turned on in your life.

He hisses at your frantic nod. “Words.”

“Yes. Yes, oh my God, Jimin, move—”

He thrusts into you at an unforgiving pace. Your whole world literally tilts off its axis as he meets that spot inside of you, and your body wrings beneath him, twisting up to hold onto some buoy to ground you, but he is unrelenting even as you grip at his neck — his teeth encase his lower lip, brows furrow and eyelids flutter as he drives deep into you.

You groan at the sight, moving your hips to meet him. You rock with him, never catching your breath, and your nails just dig dig dig into his meaty back, drawing patterns all over the smooth, delicious surface.

Your release closes in on you, and you chase it with your mouth clamping onto Jimin’s neck, your eyes screwed shut as you groan into his skin, until—

He draws back, standing on his knees above you like goddamn Adonis in this goddamn huge SUV of his, and the sight of sweat droplets trailing down his neck, framing his pecs and racing down his tight abs has your whine of protest dying in your throat as you gawk. His lips are parted as he breathes, a couple of sweat soaked hair strands sticking to his brow, and his eyes — 

Oh God, his eyes have an animalistic gleam in them as he hooks his arms beneath your knees, and drags your hips to him.

You cry out when he enters you at this angle, every thrust pushing at what feels like your cervix, and the pleasure is so blinding it's almost painful. One of his hands maneuvers to your center, a finger rubbing at your clit, and you yelp out a distorted version of his name, completely unwarned when waves over waves of hot, sweet, toe curling climax crash into you.

Jimin chases you into completion, his broken moan of your name filtering to you through the post-orgasmic buzzing in your head. His lips connect with yours as he relaxes your legs. You both pant into each other's mouth after two, lethargic, sticky kisses.

Your sweaty bodies make a disgusting sound when you detach, and both of you scowl together, laughing when you catch each other’s expressions. You sit up on jelly legs, barely able to sit on your ass when your sensitive center protests. 

You both dress up in silence, although you don’t feel it to be awkward in the least.

You’re still mulling over how to frame in words what you have felt for him for nearly three years, how to tell him and even what to tell him when you’re such a relationship-phobe, when Jimin releases a long sigh.

You look up in surprise. That was not a contented sound. It was one of… was it defeat?

Jimin looks at you with a serious face.

Your heart plummets.

One of the many things that make up Park Jimin is also his brutal morality. And right now, you can see it in his face that he thinks he’s done something wrong. Your shoulders hunch up in subconscious defense — you will not say a word, you decide.

“Taehyung is my best friend in this entire world,” he begins, stomping firmly on any remaining embers of hope left in your chest. “He can never, ever, ever know this happened, okay?”

You give a numb nod.

“I’m sure he’ll come back around and try to talk to you again. If that happens, don’t feel like you owe me anything, okay?”

You look up to find Jimin’s eyes searching your face. He looks so soft and grave and sad, that it hurts to look at him. You look down and nod again.

“I — I feel like you two will happen, you know, when the time is finally right.” His words sound stiff. Practiced, even. “Don’t let this come in the way of that.”

Even though you decided you wouldn’t say anything, your mouth is nearly bubbling with too much to say, at this point. You take a deep breath. “And what if he doesn’t come back. What then, Jimin?”

Jimin looks at you with wide, clueless eyes. “He…will. At some point.”

“And what about until he comes back? Am I expected to wait around?”

Something crumples in his expressions. “No, of course not. You can do whatever you want. Even after he comes back, you don’t owe anybody anything.”

“Whatever I want, you say?” you ask him quietly, your heart thudding in your throat.

Jimin swallows, obviously catching on. “I mean…I guess?”

“You guess?”

He licks his lips and his gaze zeroes in on yours. “Whatever you want, yes. Certainly.”

“Great.” You take his acquiescence for what it is, and grab his wrist. “Okay, then. Until he comes back, right?”

Jimin nods, haltingly, gaze switching between your hand and your eyes. “Right.”

You feign a smile you don’t actually feel because something about this doesn’t sit right with you. This boy, you realize, deserves a lot more than being someone’s dirty little secret. He is Park Jimin, after all, a guy that is so many things that you could never run out of listing them and— 

Park Jimin is a gorgeous celestial metaphor in himself.

Because he may look at the universe with galaxies in his eyes, but he is your only galaxy, and all your stars shine at you through him when he smiles. 

Park Jimin is many things — but he is not the guy you want to just casually fuck.

But your pathetic self would take anything he would allow.

And so you pull his hand and stumble out of his SUV, sharing shy glances with him as you pull him with you up the stairs, all the way to your dorms.

Park Jimin is many things—

To you.

nugatory (adj.) – worth nothing or of little value.

[hyunjilicious]

a helping hand [henry cavill] - part 3

A/n: I know it took me ages, and I'm sorry, but it's finally here!! I don't know when part 4 will be up, but I know the plot, and by the time you finish reading this, you'll know it too!! Filth is coming. Also, since I posted the first 2 parts weeks ago, under the cut you'll find a small summary of what happened so far! Ofc, I'm linking the previous parts as well! Have fun reading, sorry for taking me so long, and please, don't hesitate to tell me what you thought! (I’ll reblog it with the taglist, otherwise it doesn’t show up in the tags!)

Summary: after Henry lost it during a fit of jealousy, he sneaked into your apartment, his actions having some very different repercussions from what he initially intended. SMUT 3.9k

Warnings: please be over 18!!! mentions of smut, masturbation (male receiving), sightly/some somnophilia, stalker-ish/obsessed Henry, cum play if you squint and ofc, mentions of filming and sharing pornographic material. 18+ please!!!!

You can find part 1 here and part 2 here!

Quick recap: Henry's crush on his very sweet and younger neighbour (you lol) grew into something else when you asked him for help with taking some pictures for your onlyfans account. Following this, your relationship reached a very teasing level, which prompted Henry to take matters into his own hands, even if that meant crossing some lines. So when he found out that you and a specific man from your past were on a voice call, he just had to know what exactly was being discussed. This jealousy fit had him using his spare key to enter your apartment and eavesdrop, and this is where chapter 2 ends. Have fun reading the next part!!!

“No” you sighed, waving your arms around, desperate to get your point across. But it was mostly useless, nothing even remotely decent would ever manage to penetrate Steve’s thick skull. He was a dumbass with a heart of gold, so you couldn’t even blame him for messing things up on purpose, you just learned the hard way not to take his advice under any circumstance. “No, Steve. I won’t do that. Not a chance!”

“Hun-” he scoffed, rolling his eyes as a smirk showed up on his lips, “When have I ever been wrong?”

“Really!?” you giggled and then sighed, “Listen, I gotta go to the bathroom and you’d better forget about this topic by the time I come back”

“Wait, wait. Ok, fine. Scratch that” Steve laughed, stopping you from getting up, “When have I ever been wrong on purpose?”

“Listen, I know you’re just trying to help” you smiled, “But I don’t think your experience in seducing girls with daddy issues benefits my situation in any kind of way”

“‘Course it does! I can give you some perspective!”

“Perspective on what?” you mocked, playfully frowning at him through the screen on your laptop, “You and Henry have nothing in common”

“The dick for one” Steve joked but when he saw you roll your eyes, he became serious, “I’m just tryin to help you hook up with the guy! That’s all”

“See!?” you laughed, already exasperated by the conversation, “I’m not trying to hook up with him, I want something more…”

Your sentence was cut short by the sound of a door closing. Your blood ran cold and your hands froze, eyes staring blankly into the camera.

“Y/n?” Steve asked with worry, “What’s wrong?”

“Wait here” you mumbled, pushing the laptop off of you and rushing to the door of your bedroom. You pressed your ear against it, and listened closely, the sound of a lock being turned chilling you to your bones. With shaky hands, you stumbled your way back to your bed, and looked into the camera, directly at a somewhat already worried Steve. “I gotta go-”

“Wait-” Steve tried to ask, “Are you-”

“Yeah, I’m fine, talk to you later” you hurriedly mumbled before ending the call. Your fingers flew across the screen of your phone, finding Henry’s name and pressing the green button in the blink of an eye.

And had he not been this utterly stupid and reckless, none of this would have happened. His impulsivity got the best of him, and panic rushed through his veins when he heard you were about to head to the bathroom. Pressure did him no good, and the first thing that came to mind at that point was to bolt out of there, knowing there was absolutely no way to explain what he was doing in your apartment. But his shaky hands were of no help, and the dexterity he earlier proved himself capable of was nowhere to be found. However, he didn’t care. He just stormed out, happy to finally breathe again as soon as he was out of your apartment - but when his phone vibrated in his pocket, he felt like dying all over again.

With your heart beating inside your throat, you grabbed your bedside lamp into your free hand, and curled yourself into a ball in the corner of your room, opposite to the door, the sound of the ongoing call being the only thing you heard over the loud buzz in your ears.

“Yeah?” Henry’s voice rang loudly when he finally answered, making you all but jump with fright.

Had you paid more attention, you’d have noticed he too sounded out of breath, but you were too out of it to tell. All you could think about was the psycho what was at your door.

“Henry-” you cried, voice shaky as the intake of air was no longer satisfying. You were hyperventilating, sweating from every pore, scared out of your mind.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice more stern now. “Y/n? Are you ok?”

“Yeah- yeah…” you said on autopilot, mind on standby. “No…” You whimpered, “Henry, can you- I think someone is trying to break into my house, I-”

“What!?” he gasped, “I’m sure no one-”

“Henry!” you cried into the phone, “Can you please look through your peephole? Please?”

He sounded confused, but you didn’t have to ask him twice. You heard a bit of shuffling before his voice reached your ears again, “There’s no one there, there’s no one at your door, you can relax”

“No-” you whimpered, unable to calm down, “Henry, please-!”

“I’m coming over right now,” he said.

“No! No, what if they’re still in the hallway?”

“There’s no one there, love” Henry tried to reassure you. When you heard him unlock the door of his apartment your heart stopped, but after that, everything was quiet. 

“Are you ok?” you muttered, wiping your nose with your sleeve.

“Yes, love. I’m fine” Henry lightly chuckled, “I’m at your door, can you open up?”

“No” you scoffed, “What if someone got in?”

“No one got in” he tried to explain, but your adrenaline soaked brain refused to comply.

“Henry, take the spare key I gave you” you suggested, “And grab a knife”

Seeing how affected and terrified you were, Henry didn’t argue with you anymore. In a matter of seconds, you heard the door of your apartment being unlocked, Henry assuring you through the phone that it was him. When he walked inside, you remained hidden in your spot. He checked the kitchen and the living room, coming up to finally enter the bedroom. When your eyes landed on his massive frame, you breathed out relieved and rushed to him, throwing yourself into his arms. There was no other place on Earth you felt as safe as you did when he was holding you.

“Shh, you’re ok, you’re good” Henry cooed, cradling you to his chest, “I got you, baby, ok? I’m here”

But there was no stopping you. You broke down entirely, holding onto him as your legs gave in, turning into a mess. Henry carried you to the bed, sitting you down and allowing you to calm down at your own pace.

“I’m here, ok?” he asked again, rubbing your back, “I won’t let anything happen to you, Y/n, you know that. You’re safe, I got you”

It was impossible to tell just how long it took you to fully calm down, but it was safe to say that it would have taken hours longer had Henry not been there with you. When you were finally able to properly breathe again and hold a conversation, you looked up at him, big doe eyes hoping to convince him without too much of a fuss. “Can you stay here with me, please? I can’t be alone right now”

With nothing but sympathy in his eyes, Henry leaned down and kissed your forehead, “Don’t you think it would be better if we went over to my place instead?”

“No” you shook your head, “And leave the apartment unattended? I don’t think that’s a good idea”

His heart broke. Being his usual, impulsive self, Henry managed to break you down and terrify you to your core. As much as he wanted to reassure you everything would be fine, he couldn’t. He couldn’t just tell you it was him who broke into your apartment in the middle of a jealousy breakdown. So, he settled for the second best option, and really, he couldn’t complain.

It was late in the afternoon on a Sunday, no locksmith on the clock. Seeing how you’d have to wait until the next morning, he was more than happy to spend that time with you.

As time started to pass, you also started to relax. 

The day slowly wilted a way, as both you and Henry made yourselves busy around your apartment. He wasted a couple of hours installing games on your school laptop as you took a bath, he then cooked you dinner, and by the time the night rolled around, you were your usual bubbly self again. And after watching and laughing your hearts out at Jack Nicholson in As Good As It Gets, sleep started to creep up on you.

Henry placed one of your kitchen chairs under the doorknob before turning to give you a massive hug, “No one can get in, darling. I promise”

“Thank god you live across the hall” you confessed, snaking your arms under his hoodie as you gathered yourself as close to him as possible. “What would I have done otherwise?”

“You don’t have to worry about that” Henry kissed your forehead, “I’ll always be here when you need me”

And in that moment, right there, stopping yourself from kissing him turned out to be the most difficult thing you ever had to do. Instead, you settled for his cheek, before hiding your face against his shoulder. “I’ll always be here for you too”

“Thank you, angel” Henry breathed out.

There really was nothing on this earth you loved more than this man. 

Getting ready to go to sleep, you changed in your pajamas, while all Henry did was take off his hoodie. With your toothbrush lodged between your teeth, you lingered in the door frame, watching the muscles of his back flex as he bent down and put his phone down to charge.

Toothpaste and drool could very well have dribbled down your chin as you stood and gawked, only releasing you were staring when Henry turned around and a smile made its way up his lips. “Yes?” he laughed, but all you did was look him up and down, before returning to the bathroom with a shake of your head.

“Oh, Y/n?” Henry called again, following you, “Where can I find a blanket or some sheets?”

First you squinted, but then you decided it would be best if you just finished brushing your teeth before anything else. After rinsing your mouth, you turned to look at him, utterly unamused. “What for?”

“So I don’t have to sleep on leather?”

“You’re sleeping with me” you rolled your eyes, grabbing his elbow and dragging him into the bathroom so he could get ready for bed too. “Not up for discussion”

“Ok” Henry chuckled, looking at you in the mirror. “But I snore”

As if that would make you reconsider. You walked away and into your room, settling under the covers, without another word. About 10 minutes later, Henry joined you.

He fit in like a piece of puzzle and you didn’t even try to keep yourself from cuddling into his side. Sinking his head down between the multitude of pillows on your bed, you giggled, crawling on top of him. Without thinking too much about it, you kissed your way down his neck, peppering tens of kisses against his naked chest. You felt his heartbeat under your palm as he breathed in and out slowly, smiling down at you as he enjoyed the view.

“Thanks for doing this for me” you mumbled, rubbing your hand up and down his chiseled abdomen.

“Really, Y/n” Henry said, wrapping his arms around you, “There’s no need to thank me. Plus, you think I’m not enjoying this?”

“Oh shut up” you giggled. The amount of small talk that followed turned out to be exactly what you needed in order to allow your eyes to peacefully close. Despite the events of earlier in the evening, you now felt safer than ever before.

It was just a matter of time until soft snores started escaping past your lips, your chest rising and falling every so softly as you drifted out of consciousness.

But Henry’s mind was nowhere near relaxed enough to drift off. No. You were too close to him, too innocent and vulnerable for him to just let this moment pass. The way you had just thrown one of your legs over his lap drove him insane - your bare thigh too accessible to him.

At first, he just tested the waters. A peck to the top of your head, and a small caress against the back of your hand. You were completely out, and that accentuated his need further.

Slowly moving his free arm down his body, Henry brushed his fingers over his clothed member, grunting out loud when he felt the sensibility in his tip. He bit into his bottom lip out of need to keep quiet, teasing himself just a little as he struggled to decide how to go about things. With the way you were laying right now, it was next to impossible for him to free himself without moving you. And even though at the beginning he tried to avoid that, when you stirred in your sleep, your body rubbing up against his, he lost all kinds of patience.

As softly as he could, Henry pushed your leg back, just a little. Even in your sleep, you craved his touch, as when you felt movement, you involuntarily shuffled closer, but much to his relief, your legs remained on the mattress.

Eagerness controlled his actions as he pushed his pants down his thighs, propping his hips up with difficulty. When his underwear was pulled down and his cock sprung free, Henry hissed with unmatched satisfaction. With his hand wrapped around his base and his eyes on you, he swallowed thickly, his heart beating out of his chest with a demented sense of bliss.

"My baby-" Henry cooed, rubbing his lips across your hairline as he started stroking his cock.

His movements were slow but not calculated in any way. His brain was occupied, forcing his hand to work on muscle memory. But still, he teased himself, rubbing his thumb across his slit just like he liked to think you would. 

The fear of getting caught was at an all time high as you stirred again. He froze for a second, "That's my good girl-" Henry whispered, looking down at your sleeping frame. As much as he wanted you to take an active part in this, he knew better than to risk it. 

It was getting more and more difficult to breathe, his back sweating profusely as he pumped himself closer to the edge. His hips bucked, causing the bed frame to creak. Instantly, he stilled, eyes on you, but all you did was rub your cheek against his chest, completely unaware of your surroundings.

"I'm so close for you, my darling" Henry groaned, his throat paper dry as the words left his lips. All he could hear was his own breathing and the unmistakable perverse sound of slapping skin, but still, even above all of that, you kept on peacefully snoring. 

The arm Henry looped around your frame was now traveling lower, his palm exploring your side until he reached your ass. He softly gripped a handful of your bum, squeezing hard enough to make up for the struggle of not allowing himself to finish too early. But it was reckless and maybe he shouldn't have done so, as his touch all but woke you up. 

Still overwhelmed with sleep, you barely pushed yourself up, eyes closed as you slightly changed your position. You were now laying higher up his body, your head almost falling off his shoulder. Your breathing tickled the side of his neck as you snaked your arm up and looped it around his frame. Biting down hard on his bottom hip, Henry felt ridiculous amounts of blood rush to the tip of his cock as you refused to settle already.

Rubbing the tip of your nose across his jugular, still mostly out but not fully, you peaked your eyes open, “Henry-?”

“Y- yeah?” he swallowed thickly, freezing in his spot.

“Why’re you awake?” you mumbled.

“Just woke up- had a weird dream, that’s all”

You believed the lie without an ounce of doubt, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Yes” he whispered, “But in the morning. Sorry I woke you up, go back to sleep, darling”

“Ok” you sighed, kissed his bare shoulder and allowed yourself to drift off again.

Henry licked his lips in a haze, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as sweat worked his entire body. God, how he regretted getting himself in his position, but his cock was full on hard, all but leaking at the tip, not so patiently waiting to receive any kind of attention again. He sucked in a deep breath, eyes on you to make sure you were asleep. 

His heart skipped a beat as your mouth popped open, but your light snores came as the strongest form of reassurance, and he resumed his work. The anxiety of getting caught fueled him, and the heels of his feet dug into the mattress, his hips bucking upwards as he furiously pumped his cock.

It was all getting too much. He was close. Henry threw his head back trying to suppress a moan, but he miserably failed. A choked back wail escaped his now dry lips as his whole body tensed. He squeezed you closer, his fingers lewdly digging into the sweet flesh of your ass. He was crossing many lines but that didn't stop him. He didn't see things clear anymore. His chest heaved, rushing up and down as he fisted his cock, biting into his lower lip as he watched your peaceful expression. 

It was pure, dumb luck that he managed to spot a pack of napkins laying on the night stand mere seconds before he came. His juices eagerly ran down his shaft as he flew through his orgasm, his saviour napkin proving almost useless. 

Coming down from his high, he all but managed to calm down, but his mind was still set. He would never get enough of you. And no matter how many times he'd cum, he'd still be down to go again. You had that power over him.

"Fuck…" Henry panted. And in the blur of the moment he created, he didn't even stop to process his thoughts. Gathering the few droplets of cum that landed on his stomach, he brought his hand up to your face, his thumb rubbing across your lips. 

In that moment, then and there, when you unconsciously wrapped your lips around his finger, he almost lost it all over again. 

"Holy-" he cried again, kissing your forehead. As eager and willing as he was to keep going, Henry stopped himself. He tucked the napkins next to the foot of the bed, pulled his pants back up his hips and settled under the covers. 

Sleep didn't come easy, but he eventually drifted off. Unfortunately, the clock had almost struck 3am by the time he closed his eyes, and no later than 6:15, your alarm went off.

"No" you protested, wiggling around in search of your phone. "No school- no, thank you"

Eyes closed and cheek squished into the pillow, Henry raised his arm and found the phone with ease, handing it to you without a word.

Squinting under the bright light of the screen, you dismissed the alarm and snuggled back into Henry's chest, his arms wrapping around your body in an instant.

And as heavenly as this felt, it only lasted for about 5 minutes, until your alarm went off again. 

"Just turn it off" Henry laughed, kissing your forehead, "I'll wake you up after I make breakfast"

"You don't have to" you protested, throwing in a whine or two as you curled yourself around him.

"I want to"

"No"

"Y/n…"

"Ok fine" you sighed, "Thank you"

"No need darling" Henry chuckled and stood up. He once again pecked the top of your head and then he was gone. About one second and a half later, you were asleep again, only to complain when Henry woke you up.

"It's 7" he stated, gathering the blanket in his arms and allowing the cold air to reach your body.

"Give it back" you cried.

"Is that how it's gonna be?" Henry threatened, and despite his dominating tone, you still refused to take him seriously. When you hid your face between the pillows, he deeply sighed, but satisfaction was still audible in his tone. "Fine then"

Taking you completely by surprise, Henry bent down and gathered you in his arms, throwing you over his shoulder with absolute ease.

"Henry-" you yelled, "The fuck-"

"Not gonna be late, Y/n" Henry laughed, "Not on my watch"

"God" you giggled along and allowed yourself to be carried to the kitchen. 

As soon as he walked out of the bedroom, a delicious smell reached your nose. It was probably the first real breakfast you'd had in weeks, so you weren't going to complain anymore. Fresh coffee, toast, avocado, pancakes, hard boiled eggs and a multitude of veggies and fruit awaited on the table.

"I didn't even know I had all this food in my house"

"You didn't-" Henry shook his head, sitting down beside you, "Grabbed them from my place"

"You shouldn't have, but thank you"

"No need" he assured you, "Dig in"

When you were done, and right before you headed to the bathroom to get ready, you turned to him again. "Do you know the number of any locksmiths? I really wanna change the locks"

Following a quick Google search, Henry found a multitude of ads, and after choosing the most trustworthy looking one, he dialed the number as you patiently waited beside him.

Everything seemed to go perfectly well, until he frowned, "No, today pl- [...] No, I'm not locked out of my- [...] You sure-? Ok, ok fine. Ok, tomorrow, first thing, ok, thanks"

"They can't come today?" you pouted as soon as he hung up.

"No, I'm sorry" Henry shook his head, and seeing the disappointment plastered on your face, he spoke up again. "I can stay one more night, if you want to. I'll sleep in the living room-"

"What? No" you scoffed, "It's not that…"

"What is it then?" he questioned, starting to get worried.

You hesitated. "Its no-"

"Don't tell me it's nothing" Henry commanded, pointing a finger at you. A smile appeared at the corner of your lips as you rolled your eyes.

"Ok, fine. I just- I just had to film today for the- you know… That's all, but I can do it some other day"

Henry didn't answer until a smirk tilted the corner of his lips upwards. "Or I could help you?"

"Help me?" you gawked.

"Yeah" he nonchalantly shrugged, "Helped you once before, didn't I?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah" he smiled, "Only if you me want to, of course"

Your knees weakened and your heart was beating in all the wrong ways, so all you managed to do was giggle and shake your head in disbelief. "Well, yeah... I want to"

How were you going to tell him that the video was supposed to be of you fucking yourself with a baby pink dildo? And how exactly was he going to help? You had a long day ahead of you and the ridiculous amounts of school work you had to get done in the meantime didn't allow you to give these questions any kind of priority. All you wanted was for the evening to come around already even if you sweated profusely just at the thought of what was to come.

[floorbe]

“Together” Kiyotaka Ishimaru x Reader

Warnings: depressed and su!cial thoughts, implications of se!f harm, angst, hurt/comfort, happy-ish ending 

Summary: Taka finds you at your worst. 

Pairing: Kiyotaka Ishimaru x GN!reader, could be seen as romantic or platonic

Fandom: Danganronpa

Word count: 1,590

You’ve lost count of how long you’ve been here, sitting on the floor beside your bed, staring at nothing. How long had the lights been off; how long had you been stuck watching the inky blackness in place of your room? The silence is deafening, complimentary to the blindness of the dark. You hear only the sound of your heartbeat echoing throughout your body, as if mocking the fact that you’re still alive; that you still have to suffer through your dumb, pathetic little life.

It’d be so easy, too. It’d be so, so easy to get up, to go outside and finish what you’d been forced into starting. But the heavy ache in your bones prevents you yet again, forcing you to listen to the rush of your blood as you stare into the dark void. Forcing you to stay where no one wants you. Selfish, your mind hisses, selfish, selfish for forcing everyone to deal with you when you know they’d be happier without you. 

There’s a knock on your door before you can mull on the thought. It doesn’t matter, you decide; if you don’t say anything they’ll go away under the assumption that you’re asleep. Your mind tells you this as if you’d considered answering in the first place. 

There’s another knock. You feel a thread of anger unravel in your chest at the annoying insistence. Why can’t people understand that you don’t want to see them? Why do you constantly have to put on a facade to please other people because they’re too stubborn to allow you to rot here like you want to? 

There’s another knock, and you actually clench your fists at this one. Any movement is better than none, you try to reason, though it’s the fact that you had to move at all because some stupid, annoying, dense-

“Y/N?”

...It’s Taka. Of course It’s Taka.

The person who you most don’t want to see you in this state, and now he’s knocking at your door. Great. Wonderful, in fact. What even drove him to come here in the first place? You vaguely remember a few dings coming from your phone a while ago before you’d turned it off, throwing it across the room in frustration at the incessant noise. Still, you’ve neglected to answer texts for longer than this without any worry from anyone.

“Y/N, I’m going to come in in a moment, if that’s okay.” 

It’s not okay, actually, but you have no energy to say otherwise, and your tongue feels like lead in your mouth anyway, silencing any other motive. Your hand twitches as you consider moving positions to actually feign sleep, readying itself to hoist you onto the bed. You instead slump further back against the bed frame. Who cares if he sees you like this? 

You! your mind screams at you futilely, you care, you idiot! But it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore. If he sees you like this, then fine. You’re exhausted from hiding it and irritated that you feel like you have to in the first place because someone else invaded your space. Someone interrupted you in your privacy, and you have to collect yourself? Fuck that. You’re tired of heeding to other people because they can’t take a hint. 

A sudden light cracks through the blackness you’d been enveloped in, and it’s only then that you realize just how much your head aches. You squeeze your eyes shut as the light disrupts your thoughts, forcing it’s way into your unused eyes and sending a stab of pain through your already pounding head. You faintly hear a light gasp, and a quick shuffle of footsteps before the light fades. 

“A-are you okay?” you hear him murmur, and his voice travels across the room as you slide your eyes open to greet the pitch darkness again. You swallow thickly as you mull over a response, already feeling a pang of guilt for forcing him to see you like this despite any previous annoyance. He’s worried, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this because of that. A lamp flickers on from your bedside table, but it quickly dims as he switches it to its lowest setting. You watch his boots come into view before he sits down in front of you, biting his lip as his eyes flick over your form, “You-... you weren’t answering my texts, and you seemed off today, s-so I... I got worried...” 

“It’s fine,” you mutter, averting your gaze from his as your mouth twitches into a scowl. But it’s not fine, it’s never been fine, and it’s obvious from the way your eyes are sunken, how your cheeks are irritated from the tears that’d long since dried, how your arms are littered from scratches that he’s seemingly finally realizing aren’t actually from you being clumsy like you’d preached for months. You watch him take in your state, and you don’t fail to notice how his breath hitches, and how his eyes gain a new shine of unshed tears as he finally deciphers your feelings after lingering on your freshly battered arms. 

You can see him bite his lip as his hands twitch, as if considering something in his head. He seems to decide to take the risk, because the next thing you know he’s gently grasping your shoulders and pulling you forward. You slump forward into him like a rag doll, and you can feel the weight of his arms as he coils them around you tightly. His mouth presses into your shoulder, and you can just barely feel him trembling. 

“I... I want you here,” he settles on, voice breaking as he intakes sharply. You don’t ask how he knows, even if you want to out of the sudden anger that sparks inside you. How does he know how you feel? How does he suddenly know everything when you’ve said nothing? But you know how, because it’s written on your body, it’s been written on your body. It’s been written in how your gaze lingers on that steep edge just a moment too long, how you’ve glared at yourself in mirrors when you thought nobody was looking, how you’ve slowly distanced yourself from everyone around you... It’s just that he’s only now putting the pieces together. 

Your vision blurs, and before you can comprehend it there are tears sliding down your face. You feel your throat start to close as you hiccup on air, squeezing your eyes shut as you clench your fists still hanging by your side. “Why?” it tumbles from your lips before you can think, and with it comes the rest of the sobs you’ve been unknowingly holding back. 

He tightens his grip on you as you finally latch back onto him, burying your face in his shoulder as you shake violently. “B-because I care about you,” he sobs out, voice wavering. “I-I love o-our study sessions, and our movie nights, a-and-” his voice breaks off as you let out a loud sob, and he bawls into your shoulder. 

“I l-love talking t-to you, a-and- and- I-” he cuts off again as you press your face further into his uniform, shuddering. You feel your chest tighten at his reassurances, and you bite your lip harshly to try and collect yourself. The doubts that had seemed so solid, so real and immediate before, weaken just slightly. It’s what you needed to hear: Taka telling you once again that you’re important to him.

And then you apologize to him through your tearful voice. You apologize for him walking in on you like this, for making him have to console you, Hell, for having these feelings at all- he doesn’t deserve to put up with this- with you. He denies all of it, shaking his head firmly against your shirt as he assures you through his tears that it’s okay, it’s okay, he’s here for you, now; you don’t have to hide because he’s not leaving. 

“W-we’re together,” he tells you, his voice struggling to come out steady as he pulls back to look into your eyes, “W-we- we’ve been th-through so much t-together, a-and I’m not leaving.” His eyebrows are furrowed deeply, his lip trembling as he tightens his grip on your shirt, his eyes shimmering with tears as they roll down his face. 

They’re words you didn’t know you needed to hear; reassurances that you never thought you deserved in the first place. You’d always reminded yourself that eventually everyone would leave, that he’d leave, once you got too much to handle, or once they found someone better, someone to replace you. But sitting here, feeling Taka’s fingers dig into your arms and seeing his tear stained cheeks, for once you think you can believe him. And you finally think you understand that he needs you just as much as you need him, because if he didn’t he wouldn’t be here right now, checking in on you, cradling you in his arms, crying for you. 

It brings a new wave of tears to your eyes, and you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut as you choke out sobs. You lurch forward to cling to him again, and he easily returns the close embrace as you both collapse against each other once again. It’s not fine, you decide, but being here with you and Taka tucked into each other makes everything seem manageable until it is fine, because at least you’re together in this. Just like you always have been, just as you always will be.

[jtrbluv]

hell-ish | pjm

summary: can be read as a separate oneshot or a continuation of ‘we’re not really strangers’“

“But do you remember when we went on a field trip to that amusement park in 8th grade? Around halloween time? … Yeah, I think that’s the moment I pretty much fell in love with you.“

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, humor, establisedrelationship!au

word count: 7.7k+

warnings: profanity (they are beyond terrified), inaccurate depictions of amusement park shenanigans, neurotic clowns (but they’re acting)

A/N: IM SO SRY ITS LITERALLY NOT EVEN HALLOWEEN ANYMORE GOODBYE DD; in my defense they typically have these typa things open after halloween ends... miss rona just isn’t allowing it this year ofc ;w; a special thanks to @viopera​ , @koushiningg​, and @bangtans-peaceful-piegon​ for letting me use their likeness, i love u all. and i hope you enjoy this late halloween fic right before thanksgiving break!

The car rolls to a smooth stop. The man in the driver’s seat puts the car into park—turning towards you while placing a reassuring hand on your thigh.

“Hey,” he says, a small close-lipped grin painting across his features, “you excited?”

You reposition in your seat so you can face him, or more specifically, your best-friend-turned-lover—the sight of him smiling causes you to elicit one of your own, your nerves slightly subsiding.

“I am actually,” you admit, “how long has it been? Six? Seven years?”

“Around there I think, but we should probably get going. The lines are probably going to be stupid long like always,” he suggests, his hand leaving your thigh only to ruffle the hair on top of your head, "Here's to new memories Y/N."

You step out onto the pavement—the crisp, cold night air nipping at your cheeks and nose. The cooler temperature serving as a reminder that winter was yet to come and autumn was about to come to a close. You form an O-shape with your mouth, exhaling sharply and seeing your own breath swirling and blending into the air around you.

Footsteps approach you from the side as you shut the car door. Your head whips around to see Jimin walking towards you with a dopey grin plastered on his face. In response, your eyes playfully loll back, a stream of air huffing out of your nose.

You shift your focus back towards in front of you, eyeing the roller coaster that intimidatingly loomed beyond the fence of the park, the drop tower that appeared just as high, and the other neighboring attractions that towered significantly enough to be seen from afar. The whole stretch of the park emitted a red glow, from what you could assume was from the large-scale lighting and technology that was spread out across the expanse.

A soft hand slides its way from your forearm down to your palm, intertwining all in one smooth motion. It was warm and comforting much unlike your frozen, almost entirely numb ones.

“Someone’s a little cold aren’t they,” he teases, using his other hand to attempt to rub more warmth into yours.

“You know my hands are chronically cold,” you pointedly whine, causing small clouds of air to shoot out of his mouth and nose due to his laughter.

He locks the car and you two begin making your way towards the entrance—from what seemed like a mile, in reality, was only a block away. There was practically no gap in between the two of you the entire time, taking advantage of each other’s body heat amidst the numbingly cold weather.

The wait wasn't too shabby, but you knew it was because time always seemed to pass by so much faster when you were with him, most of the pastime consisting of talking about how your past week has been, the fuckton of assignments you two had gotten, and the dangerously high intakes of caffeine you two had consumed as per usual.

The conversation ceased after a while, and it was just the two of you pressed side to side in comfortable silence, hands still intertwined. It was interesting to see such a vast variety of ages all around you—the most common age range were teenagers or people of the same age as the two of you, which wasn’t a surprise. After getting past the ticket booth and security check, you

two finally make it inside.

The first thing you notice is the large, antique carousel that hadn’t changed in the tiniest bit since the last time you were here.

The meticulously decorated entrance—brought to life by the fire torches, heavy-duty fog machines that didn't allow one to see after 10 feet ahead of them, bright lights that were replaced by either no lights at all or a faint red tint, and just the whole ambiance—had greatly juxtaposed the simplicity and familiarity of the carousel that stood in the eye of it all.

The heat of the fire torches allow you to regain some warmth back into your body—you create a small gap in between you and Jimin, in which he pouts and lifts your intertwined hands up to his face, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand.

“So, where do you wanna go first?” He asks, swinging your arm back and forth after passing through the gates.

“I’m fine with whatever,” you enunciate a bit loudly, the usual noises of amusement park shenanigans hindering your hearing.

“You sure about that?”

You click your tongue, “Jimin please, I’m a college student now, not a puny 8th grader anymore,” you argue, watching him turn away as he tries to stifle his laughter, “I swear!”

“Alright! Alright! I’ll believe you,” he eventually caves, frantically waving his hand to dismiss your concerns, “But I won’t believe you until I see it.”

“Oh, so we’re gonna play that game huh,” you retort, brows furrowing as a smirk creeps across your face, “Alright, so what do you think about riding that?” You ask innocently, motioning up towards the drop tower that forced one to crane their neck all the way back just to see the top.

You break your focus as you look back down and turn towards him to gauge his reaction. His jaw dropping down to his knees—eyes widened in complete bafflement and horror.

“Y/N. I am literally going to fucking die if I ride that shit. Oh my god.”

“What do you mean? It’s totally safe! I’ve been on it so many times.” You attempt to console him, knowing it’s futile because of the piercing glare he gives you right after you say that.

“And that’s supposed to make it better how?!"

You soothingly rub the back of his hand in an attempt to ease his nerves, “Of course I won’t push you if you don’t want to, you know.”

He sighs, “Well, now you’re just making me sound like a puny 8th grader.”

“I can assure you that you very much, are not Chim.” And he smirks at that, tightening his grip on your hand, making you wish that you didn't give him that ego boost in the first place because he surely didn’t need any more of that.

You take some time to mull over your options, but instead, go with whatever your gut feeling was initially leaning towards, “Okay, so what if every time you take me to a house, I have to take you on a ride. You get to choose the house and I get to choose the ride.”

He nods in acknowledgment, “I’m listening.”

“Does that sound valid?” You inquire.

He bites on his bottom lip, taking a moment to quickly cogitate between the options you had given him, and at last, he nods, "It sounds like a win-win."

"Or a lose-lose." You chuckle, and he mirrors.

He shakes his head, “I know you like rollercoasters and all that scary shit, but there’s also a ton of stuff that they’ve added since we’ve last been here.” He replies, thinking out loud, while making you feel more content with your decision, “You got a deal ma’am.” He affirms at last—releasing his grip to offer you his hand to seal the deal, in which you confirm resolutely by shaking it.

Just like he said, the amusement park most definitely stepped up their game ever since you both were middle schoolers, navigating the large expanse with a bunch of other measly and equally puny peers.

The deeper you two make your way into the park, the more themed attractions lined the path. At this point, you could barely make out the bottom half of your legs due to the thickness of the fog. Actors were running around left and right—faces decorated with FX makeup that you could barely discern because of the dim lighting—effectively scaring others, clear by the amount of ear-splitting shrieks you've heard in the past ten minutes that was enough to make your eardrums burst.

Jimin takes note of your slight tenseness. He wasn't oblivious and he knew that you were trying to feign nonchalance—but the razor-tight grip on his hand and lack of chatter on your end was saying otherwise. But just like everything you do, he thought it was cute anyway.

He promptly squeezes your hand, making you turn to face him, "Do you want the first pick?"

You hum, "You can have it if you want."

"Are you sure?"

"Yess," you drag out exasperatedly, "how many times do I have to tell you that I'll be perf– !" You abruptly halt as a zombie (that very much isn't real is what you keep reminding yourself) whizzes past you, brushing against your shoulder and making you jump and trip over your own two feet.

The man beside you is quick to react—leaping in front of you with his arms out so you could fall into his grasp. And you do, gripping his arms to better steady yourself and stand up. As you attempt to straighten yourself out, your head sinks into his chest, laughter erupting out of the two of you to the point where his knees almost give out.

You detach yourself from his chest, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes from laughing so goddamn much. Finally regaining your poise, you immediately slip your fingers back in between his. He cards a hand through his locks with his remaining hand while taking deep breaths.

While tugging him away from where you two were standing to avoid another ruckus... granted that you were at a haunted amusement park, you shout into foggy air, "I'm fine, I'll be fine Jimin! Let's go!", hoping that maybe if you spoke it out into the world, you could manifest it into being true.

Well, weren’t you wrong.

-

A rare and near impossible feat is what you were able to accomplish: forcing Jimin to make a decision. Despite him already being a trademark libra, you always believed that one of his most standout and consistent libra-esque traits was the fact that he was so indecisive. To which had resulted in him forcing you to make decisions instead of him most of the time, whether they had been trivial or not.

The moment you realized that this "feat" wasn’t much of a feat, after all, was when you two had finally reached the entrance of the first haunted attraction he had chosen, his impulsive and most likely ulterior-motivated driven decision causing you to retract all preceding moments in which where you were being stubborn and indignant in him making the first pick.

Just your luck, his explanation behind his decision (and your almost near-death experience) is that he says and you quote, “Start off with a bang! We get the worst over with now so it’s all smooth sailing for the rest of the night. Trust me.”

For some context, you had a very  rational fear of clowns. The year of 2016 was already bad enough as it was—a time in which you had gotten out of your first serious relationship, afterward giving yourself the most horrendous haircut in your entire life because you were emotionally strung and the scissors… well they just happened to be within an arm’s reach.

Later on in said year when you had become a junior and assignments had been piling up higher and higher without any shits given whatsoever, your minuscule fear of clowns had been blown out of all proportions—ultimately fueled by the number of clown sightings around your town and one altercation that you still think about until this day. Four years later, you can still vividly recall the time where you were coming home after studying all day at the local library and on the other side of the street, you had spotted a clown—feet planted to the cement sidewalk, body immobile besides their head that would keep its focus on you as you continuously made your way down the street. As you began to quicken up your pace, the clown began to reciprocate your actions from across the way, and you came to the conclusion that you didn’t really wanna die that night so you sprinted the entire rest of the way home.

And here you two were, at the front of the line standing behind the black curtain entrance—next to a rugged wood sign with the words, CLOWNEUROTICS, inscribed with a dripping, rich red liquid which you surmise was fake blood and not Kool-Aid.

“I cannot believe I let you have the first pick and you do this to me” You quip, chewing the chapped skin of your lips, breath shallow and bated.

“Y/N, you’ll be just fine. I’ll be here right beside you, remember?” he assures you once more, giving you another tight squeeze on your hand.

The curtains swish open, the employee in a simple all-black ensemble motioning the two of you to come inside. You close your eyes, taking one deep and steady inhale before stepping in.

You can barely make out your surroundings, let alone Jimin, who was standing right beside you. The worker’s voice hollers over the deafening noises of the tent. “Follow the path, don’t go backwards, or else you'll hold up the line. And you see that green light?” He asks while pointing to the tiny green bulb that was down the hallway in front of you, “Take a right from there.”

Jimin replies, knowing that you’re too fear-stricken to form coherent sentences at the moment, “Alright, thanks.”

The man nods, and Jimin tugs on your hand as he begins to walk forward. You follow closely behind, reminding yourself to take breaths before you flat out lose consciousness.

As you reach the end of the hallway and the green light bulb the man mentioned, Jimin pauses and turns around to stand in front of you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, I know you hate my guts right now, but I’m sorry in advance and just know that I love you, okay? You have full permission to torture me after this.” He reassures with a wide grin.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” you grumble, lips downturned and head hanging low.

You feel his soft lips graze over your cheek, leaving a chaste peck before giving you an airy, irresistible smile that you can’t really help but relent, even though it already feels like your heart is about to implode on itself.

Taking a right, the setting of the attraction comes into periphery. White walls and floors—reminiscent of a hospital, are tainted with blood, a disarray of medical equipment, and severed body parts. You take notice of the vacant hospital beds, sheets crumpled and stained with red. Framed pictures of medical staff were hanging by loose nails, glass shattered, bloody splatters and smears all over the frames, walls, and white tile.

You two reach a doorway, next to one of the hinges was a sign that clearly said, Psychiatric Ward. Well, I guess that explains the neurotics part.

In an attempt to swallow down some of the fear in your throat, you tighten your grip on Jimin’s hand while opting to slither your remaining hand around his bicep.

He takes notice of your actions that were propelled by your increasing fear, and naturally, he can’t help but feel bad, “Hey, you know I’d never let anything happen to you.” He tells you, shaking you out of your slight daze, “You can hold onto me the whole time and stick your head in my shoulder just like you did years ago, I won’t mind,” he teases while booping your nose.

“Alright, let’s just get this over with, please.” You huff out, determined to somehow put on maybe not a brave, but a braver face than what he expects from you.

You manage to fail in a whopping, record-breaking, ten seconds of going inside.

The first jumpscare was so entirely predictable—the thunderous pounds against the wall, the trudging and supposedly neurotic clowns (although clowns are already neurotic enough as they are) had all built up suspense until a head of a clown had shot up from around the corner. Their usual clown features distorted with gashes in their skin and blood dribbling out of the corners of their mouth, clothes ripped and stained. Your entire body violently spasms, a shrill shriek, and an embarrassingly long string of curses leave your lips in a matter of mere seconds.

You don’t even notice the man you’re holding onto folding over in laughter because the clown is still very much still following you even after you turn the corner, but before you can recalibrate and trek forward another clown materializes just sparse inches at your side. Your entire body forcefully jerks back, knocking into Jimin, but the force doesn’t phase him in the slightest as he swiftly brings his arms around your frame to prevent you from falling back.

Next to you, the man’s laughter hasn’t ceased a bit the entire time, and as you quickly dash forward and away from the clowns that you oh-so-wanted to knock a tooth out of, while clinging onto his side, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “Hanging in there?”

“I think I’m gonna murder you before I murder any of these clowns.”

“Noted!” he chimes while playfully bumping his head into yours.

As you two turn another corner, the sight of more clowns banging against vacant windows on either side of you has you wincing, and you could swear you could feel your left eye start to involuntarily twitch. You come to the indubitable realization that amidst dozens of clowns, you are evidently the biggest one here.

The sounds that blaringly elicit from your lips are the nearing equivalent to keyboard smashes with a variety of curse words in between. In short, if you had a swear jar, you’d be practically penniless at this point.

The clowns are quick to take note of your cowardly conduct, using it to their advantage and targeting you specifically—reaching and intruding so eerily close that you’re almost convinced that they’re actually touching you. You cower in their presence, squirming and sinking deeper and deeper into Jimin’s hold as you make your way down the path.

Beads of cold sweat began to assert their own path down your forehead—heart ricocheting against the walls of your chest, straining the cords of your throat because of your never-ending shouts and shrieks of terror upon terror. Your whole body was convulsing and shivering without fault, even when accompanied by the body heat of the man next to you, the harsh lighting of the overhead lights, and the lack of ventilation in this shoddy tent proved to be no match against your bodily functions that were going completely haywire. If you were an Amazon package, you would have a large ‘Caution: Handle With Care’ sign slapped right onto the box.

The pea-sized amount of pride that remains within you is the only thing stopping you from completely losing your shit.

Jimin's laughter—airy and unwavering, tickling the shell of your ear was the only thing keeping you grounded, serving as a constant reminder that at the very least when you might have lost all your pride and composure, you still had him by your side.

Without much forethought, he continues to lay kisses along your temple, clutching you close to his chest and keeping you upright as your knees constantly buckled under the weight of your looming fear, crumbling composure, and the grisly clowns that were most definitely preying on your downfall.

The ten-minute duration—which to you, had felt like a whole lifetime-and-a-half had finally come to a close. Once you were able to discern what you thought was the exit of the tent—the small opening leading to what had looked like signs of civilization, you booked it without hesitation, hastily tugging Jimin with you to the point where he nearly tramples over his own feet and crashes to the floor due to the sheer and sudden force.

You two finally pass through the exit. Feeling as if you had just ran a timed mile in five minutes, your body caves immediately—hunching over, briskly bringing your hands to your knees to support your deteriorating physiological state. The sound of your heavy breathing gets disrupted by Jimin’s laughter. You stand up, straightening yourself out when you realize that other people were starting to make their way towards the exit too, and you two were clearly blocking the way out.

Jimin takes you by the wrist and swiftly pulls you aside as more people start to trickle out of the tent. You two lean against the metal fence, comfortably silent as he lets you catch your breath.

You huff out, taking deep exhales as you speak, "Holy fuck, what even was that?"

"The funniest thing I have ever seen," he shoots back with a smile, slightly breathless as well.

You blink rapidly, body slumping against the fence, still completely cynical and disbelieving in what you had experienced. Biting the inside of your cheek so hard you're pretty sure you left teeth marks, you wipe your sweat with the hem of your sleeve.

"You okay?" he asks softly, closing the gap in between the two of you.

You nod, affirming your composure in hopes that it would solidify it for real. Giving him a smile to ease the nerves you knew he had, you visibly saw his smile widen, and with that, you ruffle his hair, take his hand into your own, and walk a few steps forward before announcing brazenly into the chilly autumn wind,

"Drop zone time."

"Y/N PLEASE—!"

-

"Don't do this, anything else but this please." He pleads, lips jutting out while childishly tugging on your sleeve.

You groan, "Bub, we had a deal."

He presses his lip together, "I know... but just look at that! How does that even look remotely safe enough for one to ride?" He tries to reason with you, staring up at the attraction that he believes should not even be labeled as an 'attraction' in the first place.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head, "If it was that much of a safety hazard, it wouldn't even exist Chim."

"I will never understand why people ride this out of enjoyment and pleasure. This is insane," he says, his eyes trailing to the long line of people behind the two of you.

"It's three seconds, I swear. Three seconds compared to my ten minutes of cussing and wanting to punch a clown in the face is very reasonable in my opinion. You’ll be just fine, I’ll hold your hand the whole time," you add on.

He quietly freezes in place—eyes fixated on the tower, hands leaving the fabric of your sweater. You feel his warm hand come in contact with yours, the back of his hand grazing your knuckles. Lacing your fingers in between his, he meets your eyes, giving you a timid, lopsided grin. A silent affirmation that had said more than words could’ve. I trust you but I’m still scared shitless.

“You guys are next,” the worker announces, opening the gate and gesturing you two to come inside. Jimin’s smile dissipates, face contorting into a look of mortification at the man’s words—eyes widening to the size of what would be considered as utter shock and lips curling into a form of disgust.

Tugging lightly at his hand, he whips his head towards you, waiting to speak until you two have passed the gate, “Y/N, I’m literally gonna piss my pants like I’m not even joking.”

“Jimin!” you say in a hushed yell, “Please don’t, I know your pride is too precious to you for you to annihilate it by pissing on a ride that even kids go on.”

He scoffs, “Okay fine… but we’re getting churros after this.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, smiling at his tone, “Why would I argue against churros?”

“Hello, miss? Come this way, please,” another worker greets, leading the two of you to two vacant spots of the ride where you presume were going to be yours.

You nod, making your way towards the two seats, hearing Jimin splutter incoherent words and sounds from behind your shoulder.

He immediately plops into the innermost spot, refusing to be on the outermost seat that only had one accompanying seat on one side, albeit it truly didn’t matter. And of course, you don’t tell him that.

Smiling at his overt signs of apprehension, you slide into the spot next to him, beginning to put on the seatbelt over your lap.

Drumming his fingers on his knees, he already has his seatbelt buckled and his over-the-shoulder restraints locked and secured into place.

“Ugh, can these things go any tighter! I can still move under here,” he tuts, vigorously trying to push the restraints closer to his body, yet his attempts are proven to be in vain.

“Bub, they still want you to be able to breathe,” you remind him with a small giggle, your head popping out of the U-shaped bar to look over at him—his brows knit in concentration, nose scrunched, lips tucked into his mouth.

In a final attempt, you hear the man beside you take a sharp and deep inhale, only to hear a tiny click emit from the restraint shortly afterward.

He releases his bated breath, only to come to the realization that he can’t extend his stomach all the way forward, the bar forcing it to come short. He splutters, bringing his hand to cover his face while he coughs only to realize that his arm can’t fully reach around the bar to meet his face.

You watch this entire scene unfold out in front of you—wishing you could do something to help the poor guy, but you already knew your attempts would be pointless in the end as your arms are physically incapable of extending that far. You sink back into your seat to make sure he doesn’t see the fact that you were trying so hard not to laugh.

“Jimin, deep breaths, in and out,” you instruct him as the worker starts to make their rounds around the ride, double-checking for seatbelts and secured restraints.

“Y/N, that’s the problem, I can’t.”

“Try scooting back into your seat,” the worker suggests to Jimin, giving him an empathetic smile.

“What do you mean–oh, erm, thank you.”

She nods, shaking Jimin’s restraint a little more energetically to reassure the man of his safety.

As she leaves, he says to you, “Y/N, I can’t believe you convinced me to go on this.”

“Me too, honestly. I’m really proud of you Chim.” You admit, reaching out a hand towards him in which he takes.

“Three seconds, right?” He reiterates.

“Give or take, yeah.”

“Y/N—!”

Your seats suddenly clatter, signaling the start of your long ascent. Jimin’s grip on your hand tightens substantially, causing you to groan out in pain.

He quickly takes note of the noise, loosening his grip ever so slightly, “Oh my god, sor- oh fucking hell, there’s no going back now?!”

You chomp down on your bottom lip before another sound could escape your mouth—his grip on your hand tightening the higher you two go, “No, no you’re fine, it’s okay..”

“HOLY SHIT WHY ARE WE ALREADY THIS HIGH UP?!” He yelps, kicking his feet against the air—people’s heads starting to look as small as ants, the rest of the park coming into view as if you were experiencing it from a drone’s point of view.

“Dumbass, don’t look down!”

“It’s too late–what the hell, why can I see the whole damn city from here?!” He sticks his head out of his restraint, looking up and trying to find the top, “wHen the FUCK does this shit stop please, Y/N, I cAn’T do this?!?!”

“Chim. Breathe. Deep, steady breaths, okay?” You say while audibly taking breaths so he can do the same.

“Okay, okay,” he says, voice cracking but following suit.

After you think that he finally manages to get a grip on himself, you decide to try to take his mind off the situation at hand, “Jimin, look at the view.”

His breath softens as he begins to take in his surroundings. He could see everything. To him, it feels as if he had the city in the palm of his hand. The rollercoasters that reside next to the tower were practically reaching eye-level to him, and despite the lack of color due to the theme of the park, he thought it was mesmerizing anyway. He marvels at the fact that he could even see past the park—catching a glimpse of the cars zooming on the main highway, minute specks of light emitting from the windows of skyscrapers, people living in their own little worlds in each one, And of course, the envy of it all, the night sky—the dark depth littered with a multitude of stars in their own little patterns and worlds of their own as well.

The overhead speakers trumpet, ripping Jimin out of his trance-like state, “Welcome to the drop zone brave newcomers. I hope you’ve had an enjoyable trip on the way up here. And I hope that your descent is just as enjoyable as well. We will be dropping in... “

Jimin heaves out, “Now that’s just plain rude at this point.”

“Ten.”

“Are you okay?”

He scoffs. “What kind of question is that Y/N?!”

“Nine.”

“Jimin, you’ll be just fine,” You reassure for the umpteenth time.

“I swear if this is longer than three seconds–”

“Eight.”

He frantically kicks the air. “Fucking hell! I can’t believe I’m doing this right now, I miss the ground.”

“Seven.”

“We’ll be back down to earth sooner than you think, I’m telling you.”

“Six.”

“Oh my fucking god, oh my fuck–!”

“Five.”

“Oh fuck, holy shit–!”

“Jimin, I’ll be right beside you–”

“Four.”

“–the whole way.”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD?!”

“Thre–!”

Before the countdown can finish, you two plummet, plunging down at great speeds—a feral-sounding squawk leaving Jimin’s lips when it all happens.

He squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to see what was going on—letting go of your hand, he opts to hold onto the other handlebar on the restraint instead. His breath is caught in his throat, the ride is moving so fast that he can’t even produce any noise, let alone move his body.

Just like you have been saying this whole night, the ride ends in a blink of an eye. Or more specifically, three seconds, give or take.

Jimin slumps in his seat—fingers still curled so tightly around the handlebars that his knuckles turn pale.

You stick your head out of your restraint, craning your neck to look at him beside you, “Jimin, it’s done, it’s over.”

“Are you sure?” He mumbles.

“Open your eyes.”

His head slowly rises, eyes remaining shut. Cracking one eye slightly open, he loosens his grip on the handlebars before opening his eyes and letting out a deep sigh of relief.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" You beam, waiting for the restraints to be lifted.

"I wouldn't know, I had my eyes closed the whole time," he shyly admits, lifting the restraint off of him and unbuckling his seatbelt.

You two jump out of your seats, heading towards the gate and bidding the drop tower goodbye, juxtaposing afterthoughts lingering in the air.

"That felt so weird, I don't know if I wasn't able to move or if there wasn't enough time for me to react," he chuckles dryly while twining his hand with yours once again.

You smile, "Probably a little bit of both," you suggest, eyes scanning the park for any signs of a churro stand, "but hey, you survived!"

He smiles at that, teeth out and all, "We both did," he assures earnestly, "and now as an incentive, we are getting churros."

Your eyes light up—the sight of the bright neon sign being the next destination of the night. Jimin notices your sudden reaction, quickly looking in the same direction as you and pinpointing the small churro stand from afar.

To your luck, the line isn't very long—people are most likely preoccupied with the multitude of attractions that are only going to be available for this appropriate time of the year, taking advantage of the opportunity before having to wait for an entire year before getting to experience it all over again. But you and Jimin weren't like most people, and you two strongly believed that churros should be indulged in at any time during any situation. And right now, it was being utilized as a form of consolation, just in the shape of a deep-fried pastry sprinkled with cinnamon sugar.

After obtaining your consolation desserts, you two resume your journey around the park. Too preoccupied indulging in your churro, you’re temporarily able to block out the commotion that was occurring around you, keeping four out of five senses focused on said churro and churro only. 

“You feel better?” You ask, taking a brief moment to dust off all the cinnamon and sugar off the corners of your mouth. 

“Mmhmph,” he incoherently mumbles, after shoving half a churro into his mouth. He abruptly pauses, cheeks puffed up and eyes wide, realizing he can’t talk and instead he nods with a grin as wide as his mouth would allow him to stretch out. 

You giggle at his actions, taking your focus off of him to take another bite. 

A few moments later, when most of your churros noticeably nowhere to be seen, you ask, “Where should we go next?”

He cinches his brows together, “We probably shouldn’t go on anything to extreme, considering we just ate. How about the ferris wheel?” He suggests, pointing to the attraction that was standing in front of the two of you. 

You nod, “You’re right, these workers already go through enough. And we shouldn’t add cleaning vomit to the list.”

He chuckles, “Agreed. Let’s go, the line is pretty short!” He exclaims jubilantly, flashing you a mega-watt grin while pulling you along with him towards the gated entrance. 

Leaning against the gate, you two wait for the round of riders that were currently riding to finish, mindlessly scrolling on your phones to pass the time. 

The gate entrance opens, tearing your focus off of your phone and back to reality. The enormous and dazzling neon wheel that stood boldly enveloped your vision in replacement of your dim and dark-mode setted phone screen, making you blink a few times to adjust to its harsh hues. 

One of the carts comes to a halt, doors releasing as the group of friends inside it begin to grab their belongings and head out. The worker in charge motions you to step inside after they leave, the two of you following suit. When you two become situated and seated, they press a few buttons on their control panel, the doors promptly swinging close. A few brief seconds after, the cart jolts before moving just enough so the other people behind you could board onto the next cart.

The carts reminded you of the teacup ride at Disneyland—built in a circular shape, seats lined around the border with a small gap made for the entrance door, but of course, it was void of steering wheels in the middle. Now that would just be a recipe for disaster, and a solid segue into Jimin vomiting all over you.

He nudges your leg, “It’s so funny to me.”

You turn to him, “What is?”

“Out of all things to do while being here, and we’re riding the ferris wheel,” he beams, a light chuckle leaving his lips, “I don’t know whether to pity us or not.”

“All my pride has left me already and I’m okay with it,” you tut, lips unwillingly curling upward as you replayed the scenes of what had happened earlier at the drop zone, “I wouldn’t talk too much if I were you Mr. ‘I’m gonna piss my pants.” You tease, poking him in the side.

He scoffs, squirming slightly where you poked him, “I am still proud of myself, I didn’t think I was gonna make it up there.”

You turn away, holding in your laughter, “I didn’t think you were either.”

“Hey! Don’t even get me started on you,” he says, nose scrunching and brows furrowing, “those poor clowns were about to get their noses punched in if it wasn’t for me being there. I think your screams and threats were starting to scare them more than they were scaring me.” He fires back, giggles erupting in his throat and interrupting his words.

“I’m not even gonna argue against that. We are so sad,” you say—laughter flaring up in your chest as well, the two of you keeling over so hard the cart begins to swing back and forth.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Easy there,” Jimin yelps as you two take notice of the movement and immediately cease your actions, hands grabbing the ends of the cart to try to stabilize it. 

Just as your cart has moved up enough for you to start seeing an overhead view of the park, he whips his phone out before saying, “Lemme take a picture of you, the view is so nice here.”

As he whips out his phone, you scoot to the other end of the cart as he brings his phone up to his face and focuses it on you. Naturally, you bring your hand up, hand changing to a trademark peace sign as you flashed a smile for the camera. He brings his phone down many lock screen worthy pictures later, happy with the result evident from the grin etched onto his face. 

“Your turn,” you say, motioning you two switch spots as you take your phone out of your pocket. 

Jimin, infuriatingly photogenic, simply sits while staring off into the distance, jaw on full display as you begin to rapidly snap pictures. Hearing your camera clicks he changes his position—turning towards you as the chilly wind blows through his hair, eyes crinkling and dazzling smile on full display that you can’t help but smile at the familiar yet all too breathtaking sight. 

Placing your phone in your lap, you scoot closer to him—leaning your back against his shoulder, you prop your legs up onto the seats. Turning towards you, he snakes his arms around your waist as his chest comes in contact with your back. You let yourself sink deeper into his grasp, conforming into his body as warmth spreads to your fingertips. Your head lulls back, falling into the space right below his collarbones as you stroke the back of his hands gingerly with the pad of your thumbs. He rests his chin on top of your head, the two of you simply admiring the view below. 

The ride still hasn’t started—people still boarding the ride as the carts momentarily halt and move from time to time. 

Not long after, your cart reaches the very top. 

Head peering over the edge, he turns back, “See, why did we have to go on the drop tower when we could’ve went here instead,” he grumbles, the peak of the tower standing nearly just as tall as the highest point of the ferris wheel to the point where you could stare directly ahead of you without tilting your head.

“Well that takes all the fun out of it,” you tease, making him frown, “Hey! You keep forgetting what you made me go through before that. Don’t think I’ve gotten over it that quickly.”

Looking displeased at your answer, he quirks a brow, “You seemed to be fine when we were riding the tower.”

“What can I say, you make a very good distraction.”

“I think I could say the same for you,” he proposes, “I swear I saw some of those clowns turn away and start laughing every time you threatened them. I was like ‘Yes! That’s my feisty girlfriend!” he cheers, pumping his fists into the air. You cower down in embarrassment, grinning to yourself while trying to swat his arm away. 

“I feel so burned out already though,” you say, head falling back into his chest, “I think it’s ‘cause we’re here at night.” 

“And because you track-starred your way through that entire maze,” he adds.

“That too.”

“I feel it too, we did more walking than anything else to be honest.” He says, which is very much true. The drop tower was all the way on the other side of the park and the churro stand took you guys a whole twenty minutes just to find. 

You hum, “Should we head out after this then?”

He rests his cheek on top of your head, “Yeah, if you want to.”

“I feel bad though, it feels like we just got here,” you admit, chuckling into his arm. 

He shakes his head, hands reaching over to play with the ends of your hair, “Don’t feel bad, I think we’re still hungover because of midterms. And besides, I’m hungry and I don’t wanna eat a ten dollar hotdog after just eating a stale ten dollar churro.”

“Yeah, we can just eat one dollar ramen, we’re still college students above everything.”

And you truly couldn’t argue with that. “Of course.”

Taking your hands off of his, you prop a hand onto the cart to sit yourself up onto the seats. He releases his hold on you, his arms returning back to his sides as the warmth of your body dissipates to his dismay. 

You adjust your sitting position so you could face him—reaching out to take one of his hands into your own. Your eyes bore into his, gazing into the pools of honey that were his irises. The view is slightly obscured as his eyes crinkle.

He smiles, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You don’t even register that he’s speaking to you until he leans in slightly, his features starting to appear bigger as he starts to close the gap between you two. You shake your head once he gets so close in proximity that you could see each crinkle that etches themself on the sides of his eyes each time he grins. 

Your eyes flicker to his lips, taking notice of the action as you quickly revert back to his eyes. He smirks

“Thank you for taking me here,” you say as your eyes intently gaze into his once more, “above all the trepidation we’ve put each other through tonight, at least we’re here together.”

He nods, gratitude evident without him having to utter a single word. It’s as if time is frozen, everything around you stagnant and still, eyes boring into each other because nothing could just quite compare to this. Not even the surreal view of the city or the ability to see all the bustle within the amusement park or even the stars that littered the sky. 

You press your lips against his. Although you initiated the action, the sensation of his lips against yours, regardless of how natural, sends a flurry of shockwaves down your spine. Your body tingles—as if you’re floating and the cart you were sitting on wasn’t even there to support you. 

And he kisses you back. His lips are warm, welcoming, and comforting—like wrapping yourself in your favorite blanket in the comforts of your bed, the indescribable bliss as the fabric consumes your body and runs over your skin. 

Kissing him felt even more blissful than that.

The kiss isn’t fervent, but it’s full of longing. It’s as if he’s communicating to you, through the way his lips mesh against yours, that he plans on making up for all the lost time. Time that could’ve been spent doing things like kissing you, loving you wholeheartedly and unashamedly, was spent pining for each other with the label of being ‘best friends’ standing in the way for far too long. He wants to make up for it just as much as you do. 

He slides his hand under the crevice of your knee, pulling you closer to him as he continues to kiss you. You bring your hand up to his neck, entangling your fingers into his hair as you lightly scratched at the surface of his scalp. 

He kisses you like he’ll never get to again, which isn’t completely false—the fact that you two were so high up in the air to the point where the stars look tangible, basking in each other’s presence and each other’s presence only. 

Frustrated at the abnormal layout of the seating, he hooks his arms under your legs—hoisting you up and placing you in his lap so you were straddling him—incognizant of how the cart was starting to dip due to the unequal distribution of weight. 

The gesture makes you squeak, and you can start to feel him smile against your lips. Before you could do anything else, the cart totters—rocking a few times before moving, signaling that the ferris wheel is finally beginning its journey. 

“Oh fuck—!”

“Oh shit—!”

The two of you immediately detach from each other as you take notice of the unbalance, hurriedly leaping onto opposite sides of the cart while gripping onto the sides for dear life, the cart rocking back and forth at a concerning extent. You sneak glances at each other, your faces painted with the same expression of shock and distress.  

Seconds pass and the cart steadies—laughter instantaneously taking over the two of you.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” he says, a little breathless while his body hunched over his seat.

“Remind me the next time we kiss to check if we’re less than a foot above the ground first,” you tease, playfully swatting his knee.

He grabs your hand, pressing a kiss onto your knuckles before shaking your intertwined hands up in the air—obnoxiously shouting into the frigid autumn wind, “Yes chief!” 

-

-

-

MASTERLIST

[lonelyreputation]

Ready

A/N: Hello hi!!! I’m slowly making my way through all my requests! I have like four-ish docs left! Thank you for being patient and dealing with my wonky writing process 🥴 I appreciate you all 🥰

Request: hi, can you write about shawn being there for his wife during labor? like he’s holding her hand through the contractions and whispering how amazing she’s doing while pushing? if you don’t have time i understand. thank you 💗

Also!! I did my best to research giving birth and the stages so this is all based on articles and I may have ~tweaked some stuff I’m not really sure BUT I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless!!! 

Warnings: Giving birth, swearing

WC: 3.3K // Fluff

“You sure you don’t want me to get it for you?”  

You waved your hands in front of Aaliyah, “Even though I’m pregnant,” you took a deep breath, pushing one hand on the sofa’s cushion as oen rested on your very round stomach, “I can get myself a water.”

“Shawn said––”

“Shawn is upstairs on a phone call,” you rolled your eyes as you leaned forward to pick up your water glass from the coffee table, “Oof.” You squinted an eye shut as you felt a pain in your lower back.

Aaliyah stood up from the couch, taking the water glass from your hand, “Are you alright?”

You waved her off for the second time, “Fine, just some back pain.”

“Do you want me to get––”

“No,” you shot her a glare, and took the water glass from her hand, “I don’t need him for everything.”

Aaliyah followed you into the kitchen as you went to the sink to fill up your water.  Once your glass was filled to the top, you shut the faucet off, and turned to see Aaliyah leaning against the kitchen island with a pointed look on her face.  You let out a sigh, knowing exactly what the next words out of her mouth were going to be.

“Y/n, your due date is literally in two days you could have this baby at any moment.”

You moved one of the stools back to sit on and placed a caring hand on top of Aaliyah’s, “I appreciate the concern, but I’m fi––Ouch.” You scrunched your eyebrows as a hand automatically went to your stomach.

“What was that?”

You let out a deep breath, the pain prolonging for a moment, before you shook your head, “Just a little pai––pain.”

“Y/n…” Aaliyah’s tone was one of warning, but the smile on her face was growing, “Do I need to interrupt Shawn’s phone call?”

You continued to shake your head, grinding your teeth together, “It’s been happening sporadically throughout the day––”

“You’ve been having contractions and didn’t say anything?” Her eyes bulged out of her head.

“They are not contractions,” You sucked a deep breath in through your nose and slowly let it out, “Braxton-Hicks are co––common.”

Aaliyah’s smile was beaming ear to ear, having an inclination that she would soon be an Aunt.  You stayed sitting at the island in silence as Aaliyah looked at you with a gleam, just as bright as her smile, in her eyes.  

While you couldn’t wait to welcome your child into the world, you were absolutely petrified of everything that came with raising a child.  You were responsible for another person’s life. You had to enroll them in school, make sure they made friends, help them find a passion in life, and teach them lessons in hopes they take them and make smart decisions.

It wouldn’t be you and Shawn against the world anymore; it would be you, Shawn, and your baby.

Two days is still two days, you thought to yourself, this baby isn’t coming out yet.

You pushed yourself back from the island, and just when your feet hit the floor, your eyes widened as you felt something wet trickle down your leg.  You didn’t have to look down to know what just happened.

“Aaliyah,” your high-pitched nervous voice only made her smile more, “Interrupt Shawn’s phone call, please.”

Your sister-in-law didn’t need to be told twice before she was running up the stairs, calling out Shawn’s name before she even knocked on the door to his office.  Being alone in the kitchen with fluids trickling down your leg, signaling that your water broke, left you terrified.  This would be the last time you stood in your kitchen alone because the next time you would have your baby with you.

The harsh steps of Aaliyah and Shawn bolting down the wooden stairs didn’t break you from the trance you found yourself under because all that was floating through your mind was, holy shit, I’m going to be a mom.

“Hey,” Shawn’s gentle voice snapped you out of your paralyzed state.  He gently took hold of both of your hands and gave them a light squeeze, “Breathe.” You didn’t realize that your breaths were shaky, close to hyperventilation, but you tried to match the pace of Shawn’s even breathing.

Aaliyah walked over to you with a wet cloth and a dry one, cleaning up the spillage, as Shawn smiled ear-to-ear, “Ready?”

Ready…That one word held so many sub-questions you didn’t even know where to begin.  Were you ready to start a new chapter of your life? Ready to add to your little family? Ready to take care of a child with the love of your life?

“I––I’m scared,” your chin wobbled as you felt tears well up in your eyes.  There was not a doubt in your mind that you were ready to start a family with Shawn, but you were so scared of messing up.

“I’ll be with you––”

You cut him off with a sharp intake of breath as you gripped his hand as you felt another pain rip through your stomach.

“I think you should go to the hospital,” Aaliyah looked at you with concerned eyes as she held out the hospital bag you and Shawn had prepped a few weeks ago.

Shawn took the bag and slung it over his shoulder, “Hospital, yeah, of course.”  He ran a hand through his curls as his eyes darted around the kitchen, “Aaliyah, can you drive?”

Dangling his keys between her thumb and pointer finger, Aaliyah smiled, “Figured you wouldn’t be sane enough to drive.”

With a hand still in yours, Shawn placed his free hand gently on your lower back, slowly walking out to the car with you.  He kept mumbling how he couldn’t believe that this was happening, that he remembered it like yesterday when you told him you were pregnant, and of course, he repeated how much he loved you.

While your contractions were still spaced out, they were more painful, and you were sure you cracked a few bones in Shawn’s hand, but he was all smiles as he called your parents, and his parents, to let them know you two were on your way to the hospital.

Aaliyah dropped the two of you off at the front doors to the Emergency Room, as she went to go park the car, and much like how Shawn held your hand when you left the front doors of your house, he did the same as the two of you walked through the doors of the hospital.  

The next time you would be outside you would be taking your kid home.

Everything was becoming all too real.  You always fantasized about having a child of your own, and when you met Shawn you knew you wanted to have his kids, but back then it was just thought.  It was a romanticized thought of having something––someone––that you both created.  Even while you were pregnant, it didn’t seem real.  Nothing seemed real until this moment and you had never felt this amount of terror in any situation before.

“Y/n, hey,” Shawn’s eyes were wide with concern, “You have to calm down, everything’s gonna be okay, everything will be––”

You shook your head rapidly as a few tears leaked from the corner of your eyes, “I can’t––Shawn, I can’t do this.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together, “I am absolutely positive that you can do this,” his face softened with a smile as he cradled your cheek in his hand, the pads of his thumbs wiping away the tears on your cheek, “As much as I want to tell you how strong you are, I think you really need a doct––”

And like the time in the kitchen, you slightly hunched over with one hand clutching Shawn’s, as the other went to your stomach, as an unbearable pain shot through your whole body.  Shawn’s eyes widened larger than you had ever seen them as he tried to hurriedly rush you to the front desk.

“Hi, my wife––” Shawn was interrupted by you letting out a whimper of pain as he talked to the front desk woman, “––She’s giving birth so we need a doctor––Like, now.”

You peaked through your eyelashes in your hunched position and saw the front desk woman sweetly smile at you and tell you as Shawn recited your information for a wrist band.  All you wanted to do was glare at her.

Once the band was placed on your wrist a doctor and a few nurses came out with a gurney.  You shot your head over to Shawn, not liking the idea of being wheeled into the maternity ward, but just like every moment of uncertainty before, he squeezed your hand in reassurance.

The doctor introduced themself, and the rest of the people on their team, before helping you up into the gurney, and asking you questions about your contractions and other medical inquiries that Shawn tried to answer to the best of his abilities.  You did your best to answer through your gritted teeth and sharp pains in your stomach, but Shawn’s hand had never left yours since the moment you stepped foot into this hospital, so that provided you with some comfort.

After you were brought back into a private room, Shawn helped you change into the gown that was provided, and then the doctor came back in to measure your cervix.  And your mouth was left hung open when he said you were only halfway dilated.  With your contractions lasting a few hours, you assumed you would almost be ready to have your baby by the time you got to the hospital.

“Oh, no,” the doctor laughed, “Television really doesn’t give an accurate representation.  New mom’s usually always have a longer birthing process––The early part of your first stage could be anywhere from six to twelve hours––”

“Twelve hours?” You leaned up on the hospital bed as the beeping of the heart rate monitor began to increase.

The doctor took a moment to read the screen before chuckling, “Everyone is different.”

You felt your palms begin to sweat as you looked over at Shawn, “I’m not ready,” you felt more tears start to cloud your vision, “I can’t––”

“You can,” Shawn’s voice was stern, he spoke with so much determination in his voice that, for a split second, you did believe in yourself, “This is what all these nine months have been leading up to.  I have never loved you more in my life,” his voice wavered at the end of his sentence, “So believe me when I say that you can do this.”

Shawn’s words were starting to break through to you; you were starting to feel like maybe you could get through this treacherous process of bringing a life into this world if he was by your side.

The doctor told you that you could walk through the halls if you were up for it, and that people could come and visit you, but when it was time to give birth, you were only allowed three extra people in the room.  And soon after that, your parents had walked into your room, your mom already had tears free falling down her face as she peppered kisses along the top of your head.  

They were in the room for about an hour, congratulating the both of you as soon-to-be parents, and then came in Shawn’s parents and Aaliyah.  Just like your mom, Karen was full on sobbing when she saw laid eyes upon you in a hospital gown, as Shawn soothingly rubbed his fingers on the top of your hand.

Aaliyah still had a grin spread on her face, much like earlier in the day before she interrupted Shawn’s phone call on your behalf.  And like your parents, they were the room for a little over an hour, before leaving the two of you, wanting to give you and Shawn some time alone before the extra addition to your family came along.

You mustered up the strength to walk around the halls of the hospital.  But you didn’t last long as you felt your contractions grow stronger.  You clutched onto Shawn’s arm, as he practically dragged you back to the room, and he pressed the call button for the doctor.

Within seconds, the doctor was in the room, and you were trying to hold back the screams of pain you felt bubble up in the back of your throat, the pain of your contractions happening more frequently and lasting longer.

The doctor measured your cervix again, and when he said you were at eight centimeters, you started to cry.  There was no possible way you could handle the pain of dilating two more centimeters.  You wanted to give up, turn back, but realistically that was not an option.

Shawn requested the doctor to go into the waiting room and bring back both of your mom’s, as those were the extra people, save for Shawn, that you wanted in the room as you gave birth.  A few minutes later, your mom and Karen hurriedly walked into the room with concern clearly written on their faces.

Karen got you a cup of ice chips as your mother went to your other side to hold your hand.

You squeezed your eyes tight as you felt another contraction rip through your body, you turned your head toward Shawn, as you tried to muffle your shout.  You felt hot, nauseous, and in more pain than you had felt in your entire life.  If this was only eight centimeters dilated you sure as hell didn’t want to know what it felt like to push a whole baby out of you.

Shawn’s hand was still held tightly in your grasp as he sat up from his chair and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Shawn, this is––”

“If you say you can’t do this one more time––”

“You’re not the one who’s about to push a fucking baby out from their vagina.”

In any normal circumstance, a harsh quip like that would’ve started a petty argument, but Shawn’s eyes only looked at you with admiration as he let out a laugh, “You sound like you’re giving birth.”

You shut your eyes, trying to relax yourself, but you were in so much pain and everything was getting on your last nerve.  As if on cue, the doctor walked back into your room, and the nurse who had been in the room watching over you gave him an update.  The only thing you heard from the nurse as a pain, that came so forcefully––it felt as if it was tearing apart your body from the inside out––was that you were almost at ten centimeters.

“Get this fucking kid out of me,” you cried through the pain.

Your mother shushed you, Karen offered you a sympathetic smile, and Shawn thought it was necessary to crack a joke.

“Hey, that’s my kid you’re talking about.”

You glared at him, “And I will never give you another fucking kid again––Argh––Shawn Mendes I hate you so much––”

“I love you too––”

“I hate you so fucking much––Ah!”

“Ten centimeters,” you heard the doctor say from the bottom of the bed.  They peaked their head around your bent knees, “Ready to push?”

As much as you wanted to meet your baby, and as much as you wanted them out of you, you shook your head no.  You continued to shake your head no as more tears slipped past your eyes and another shout of pain escaped your lips.

Shawn tried to squeeze your hand in reassurance, but with your hand gripping onto him so tight, his hand was numb.  So, instead, he placed his other hand on your shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “I’m right here.  Holding your hand.  You have me.”

You looked up at him through your blurry vision. While you wanted to strangle him for putting you through this, his words resonated deep within your soul that you could physically feel his love for you through his words.

“I’ll never leave your side,” Shawn whispered as he wiped your tears away, “Now, are you ready to push?”

And for the first time that day, you nodded your head yes.

“On three,” you faintly heard the doctor instruct you, but all you focused on was Shawn whispering his own soft count down until your first push.

“I,” one, “love,” two, “you,” three, ”now push.”

You clamped your mouth shut, gripped Shawn’s hand until your knuckles turned three shades lighter, and pushed.  Pushing was worse than any contraction you felt and you wished you could go back to that pain.  But once your first push was done, and your muscles relaxed for a little bit, the doctor was giving you a warning that you were going to have to push again on three.

You looked up at your husband with fear in your eyes, who was already looking down at you, but before you could verbalize your fears, the number three was said and you started to involuntarily push.  

You let out a cry as Shawn stroked the hair on top of your head, “You’re doing so well––Incredible––” another push, “––You’re the strongest woman I know––” another push, “––There’s no one else I’d want to start a family with––”

“The baby’s crowning!”

“You hear that?” Shawn wiped away a few of your tears as you heard him get choked up, “They can see the head of our baby.”

You knew you still had more work to do, but you were exhausted, all of the physical and emotional pain was catching up to you.  But when the doctor said push, you leaned forward, focusing on Shawn rubbing your back, and pushed.

Shawn’s voice was the only thing that got you through giving birth.  But when another sound––one of a cry––filled a void in the room you didn’t know was there, it gave you a new sense of purpose.  

“One more!”

“I,” one, “love,” two, “you both,” his last words were rushed together, three, “now push.”

And as you squeezed both your mom’s and Shawn’s hand so hard––that you were sure they would need to go to get x-ray’s for broken bones––you suddenly felt all of the pressure lifted from your lower half as you fell back on the bed.  You dropped your death grip on both your mom and Shawn’s hand, but Shawn didn’t let go of your hand as you saw the doctor hold up the most beautiful baby you had ever laid eyes on.

“Say hello to your baby girl.”

Your mouth was hung open in awe as the doctor placed your baby––your child with Shawn––on your chest for skin to skin contact.  After all the pain you went through, and the tears you shed, you would do it all over again just for this moment.  This first little moment with your baby girl pressed to you, her cries sounding like music to your ears, as you felt Shawn’s tears fall on your skin as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You looked up at him with your own tears in your eyes, “Ready?”

Looking into his tear-filled amber eyes, you saw him look down at your daughter, with an amount of love that was beyond how he ever looked at you.  And you knew that he was already planning his future with his daughter: seeing her first steps, driving her to guitar lessons even when she didn’t want to go, eating ice-cream with her all night when she would inevitably go through her first heartbreak, and then seeing the pure joy in her eyes when she would eventually get into her first choice school––Even though that was 18 years in the future––she was his daughter, and he knew that she was destined for great things.

And with a sniffle, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips and then to his daughter’s head, “Ready.”

Tag List: @fallinallincurls @alina--jpeg @adelaidestreets @5-seconds-of-mendes @particularnarry @now-that-i-saw-u @turtoix​ @shawnsmutal @vinylmendes @mendesficsxbombay @lights-on-mendes @illuminatepotter @shawnmendez

[unmaskedagain]

Marinette: Iron Man’s Minion: Rising

Over 30 people sent me ask requesting a sequel. I usually don’t do sequels. Its messy and rarely as good as the first. Hoepfully, you like this.

           Tony just sighed at sight four kids and his robot picketing his workshop. Rhodey just looked overly pleased. The sun was had rose. He had just finished up for the day. Only to be met with… whatever the hell this was.

           Honestly, he hadn’t thought they were serious. At least he didn’t think Peter was serious. Peter was the sweet one; 90 percent of time, he followed Tony’s rules to the letter, never giving too much problems.

           …Harley, on the hand, liked to start shit.

“What we want?” Harley called again.

“No curfews!” The other three, Peter, Riri, and Marinette yelled.

           Riri liked to instigate.

           As for Marinette, Tony was certain at this point, she just wanted to see the world burn.

“When do we want it?!”

“Now!”

           Dummy beamed loudly. A little sign in his claw.

           Tony pinched his nose, “I swear to god, Harley.”

           Harley smirked, “He says our sugar intake should be limited. I say we want candy. I say Sugar High and Die.”

“Sugar high and Die!”

           Dummy beamed again.

           Tony glared at his firstborn, “You can’t even eat.”

“Unlimited lab access!”

“Yes!”

“Breakroom for Interns,” Harley sniped. “We are not Avengers. We shouldn’t have to share with Avengers.”

“Not my Pop tarts!” Riri shouted, a big grin on her face, framed by her wild dark curly locks.

           Marinette was having the time of her life, “Death to Baby monitor protocols!” Ever since it was revealed she was Ladybug, Tony put her on the same restrictions at the other teen Heroes. Karen watching her from her new, Stark approved, mask.

           The others went nuts. “Death to Baby monitor protocols!”

           Rhodey looked smug, “Karma.” He said easily. “For everything you ever put me through at MIT; you have to deal with four versions of yourself.”

           Tony narrowed his eyes, “Okay time for the big guns,” He spun around. “PEPPER!” He yelled. “Jarvis get Pepper.”

           The kids looked at each other and braced themselves.

“We will not go quietly into the night,” They all said together. “We will not vanish without a fight!”

“Oh my god,” Rhodey said, looking like a five-year-old on Christmas morning. “They’re doing the speech from Independence day!”

“We're going to live on!” The kids said, dummy beeping with them. “We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day

“PEPPER!” Tony screamed again.

           First thing, Tony said when the redhead arrived, “Pepper, the minions are revolting. Do something!”

“Well maybe if you didn’t call them minions,” Pepper suggested just looking so done with the world. She could just barely believe Jarvis when he told her the interns, and teen heroes, were protesting. “And why is Rhodey holding a sign?”

           Tony huffed, “The twerps called him Uncle Rhodey with those big puppy dogs’ eyes. And he went full traitor!” He explained. “Those things should be weaponized. Fix this!”

           Pepper sighed and walked to Harley, the one with the megaphone was usually the leader. She smiled, “Lets negotiate.” This would be easy and over quickly. They were just kids, messing with Tony.

           Marinette stepped forward, “Sure,” She smiled pleasantly. “After our lawyer gets here.”

“You’re what now?!!” Tony shouted.

           Pepper eyed the bluenette approvingly. “Bring it on!”

           Matt Murdock had no idea that when Spiderman called to ask him to his lawyer and defend his rights, that he was talking about Peter Parker’s rights as an intern. He was on the avengers’ roster and most knew he identity. Foggy was confused but elated to test his wits against the force that was Pepper Potts.

           The two lawyers sat across from Tony and Pepper. The kids and Rhodey, who Stark called traitor every time he spoke, sat beside them. They were in a conference room at a large table.

           Matt began, “Our clients have made their requests very clear. Most of which are easy to employ and some would say are their rights.

“Their minions,” Tony stated. “They don’t have rights.”

           Pepper placed a hand on his shoulder, “Never say that again,” She said slowly.

“All employee should have a breakroom,” Foggy stated. “Even interns. It’s non-negotiable.”

           Pepper nodded, “Agreed. They will be given their own breakroom; that Jarvis will ensure only fellow interns will have access to.”

“That means Tony can’t go in,” Peter laughed.

“You little shit!”

“Baby monitor protocols are too extreme,” Matt said.

Pepper pinched her nose. “As a hero yourself, Mr. Murdock, you must understand that we in good conscience cannot allow minors, even superpowered minors, to perform their heroics without proper supervision.”

Riri slammed her hands on the table, “I was a little late for curfew and you sent freaking Thor to track me down,” She said accusing to Tony, who looked completely unrepentant. “Thor. A god.”

“Alien,” Rhodey and Tony chimed.

“I snuck out one time,” Peter glared. “And the Avengers crash a house party.”

           Pepper winced. That had been a PR mess. “Tony will limit his use of GPS tracking provided all parties adhere to the rules and regulations they originally agreed to when they began their mentorship under Tony.”

“You mean when we sold our souls to the man,” Marinette snipped.

“The-The man?” Tony looked flabbergasted. “No! What?”

           The meeting went on for another thirty minutes. It was nearly adjourned when Pepper inquired if there was anything else.

           Marinette looked Tony dead in the eyes, “Karen no longer reports to you.”

           The other kids blinked in surprise before grinning.

           Tony leaned back in his seat, and nodded solemnly, “So its war you want.”

“Oh my god,” Pepper and Matt groaned.

           Foggy and Rhodey looked far too entertained for their own goods.

           Eventually it was agreed that Karen would report that if they were in any danger and agree to disclose if the young heroes were fine or not. Plus any messages they wanted to relay. Pepper didn’t budge on the candy issue; citing parents had enforced a healthy diet rule on the summer internships. Instead, the kids got a pool table to the breakroom and unlimited healthy snacks for the fridge provided at Stark Industries expense. But they would not dictate what the kids bought on their own.

           Marinette had been living at the tower for a month. One morning she decided to make herself her favorite dessert; chocolate and mint AND chocolate and raspberry macrons. She made little over a dozen and had left them in the fridge, a clear ‘Do not Touch’ sign on them.

           When she finished with Tony and the other interns for the day, Marinette washed up and rushed to the kitchen to get snacks so she could start binging watching Batman the animated series. However, when she got to the kitchen, opened the fridge, she saw her beloved snacks gone.

           Marinette eyes narrowed and she hissed. She marched into the living room and saw the plate she had used lying on the coffee table. The avengers sat watching TV. Marinette picked up the plate, “I made macarons for me. I left them in the fridge with a sign that said do not touch. Someone obviously can’t read. Who did it?”

           The heroes shared looks. No one answered.

“I’m not mad,” Marinette promised. It was lie. By the looks on their faces, they knew a trap when they heard it. “I just want to know the truth. I know it can’t have been Tony or Bruce, because they were with me in the workshop. Natasha is out with Pepper. So…”

           Nothing.

           Thor shifted uneasily. Bucky blinked innocently at her. Steve gave her a boy-ish grin. Clint looked vaguely terrified. Sam kept eyeing the window like it was an exit. Scott looked seconds away from calling for back up.

“Oh,” Marinette nodded. “It’s like that. Fine then.” With that she marched out of the room in a huff.

           When she was gone, Bucky sighed, “She’s going to make us pay for this.”

“One of is just going to go missing,” Sam nodded.

           Clint shrugged, “Sorry, Scott.” And went back to watching TV.

“Yea-What?” Scott yelled. “What do you mean Sorry Scott? Why is it me?”

           The next morning, the heroes woke up to find… things missing. Steve couldn’t find his shield. Bucky’s arm was gone. Thor’s hammer was missing and would return to matter how much he called for it. Clint’s was missing his custom arrows were. Sam’s AI redwing had vanished. And as far Scott, well…

No matter how much they searched, they couldn’t find their missing stuff.

           They all arrived back at the living room, wondering what the hell was going on. They figured one of Tony’s cleaning bots had gone haywire… Again. But that didn’t explain how no one realized it happening. Maybe it was Loki. Still they decided to talk to Tony first. Natasha was with him, and thoroughly amused at the sight of the ruffled men.

           The genius had looked confused, “No. My bots are all up to date. They didn’t even clean last night.”

           Thor nodded, “Then it was my brother. I shall have to speak with him at once.”

“Wait,” Steve said looking around, “Where’s Scott.”

           …And as for Scott? Well, he was missing.

           Bucky’s eyes narrowed, “She has him.”

“Well shit,” Clint said. “I was just joking yesterday.”

“I’ll miss the little dude,” Sam whined.

           Tony looked around, “What are you? No!” He laughed. “Marinette? Frenchy took your stuff? You’re the world’s greatest heroes! She is a fourteen-year-old girl, you know that, right?” He chuckled. Lil Dominator strikes again.

“Natasha,” Steve sent pleading eyes to the Spider.

“I’ll talk to her,” The Black Widow sighed, “But she’ll never respect you if you don’t fight your corner.” With that, she left to speak with Marinette.

           Natasha came back ten minutes later looking rather disgruntled, “She said no.” She told them. “Something about macrons and vengeance. And feeling her wrath. I think you created a supervillain.”

“No,” Tony chimed in. “No supervillany anything. Until she’s twenty-one. It’s in the minion’s contracts” He had made sure to add if after they threated to riot of the good grade addendum; anything lower than a B, and patrol is cut. “She’ll stick to her word.”

“Your interns have contracts?” Clint asked.

           Tony just shrugged, “They do now.”

“Let’s all go talk to her,” Steve suggested. “We’ll apologize and everything will good again.”

           This caused Tony to cackle. “Yeah, okay!”

           The heroes found Marinette on the roof with the other interns. The avengers and the minions eyed each other.

           Marinette spoke first, “I want three dozen macrons from the French bakery on 8th street, near Franky’s deli; all chocolate. Then you get your things returned.”

“You can’t just,” Bucky began. “That’s blackmail.”

“Its extortion,” Riri corrected.

“Marinette, how about…” Sam started but Marinette cut him off.

           She crossed her arms, “This isn’t negotiable.”

“Where’s Scott?” Clint asked. “How do we know he’s alright? We want proof he’s alive.”

           Peter leaned toward Harley, and whispered. “Hey, it sounds like they think we kidnapped him.”

           Harley leaned back, “That’s because technically we did. I think we’re a crime syndicate now.” (Peter yelped, “What?!). “Shhh. Just go with it.”

           Marinette pulled out a walky talky, and headed it to Clint.

“Hey Scott, you there, over,” Clint asked into the radio.

“Help!” Scott’s voice screamed from the radio. “Giant hamster. Giant mean hamster. Oh god why?”

“He’s name Sir Grumpy paw,” Riri said brightly. “I have to keep him here now. He tried to take out my mom’s cat.”

           Bucky just looked at Steve, “Can we just get her the damn macrons.”

“No!” Steve said. “We can find Scott and our things.” He promised. “You’ve gone too far,” he told Marinette.

           The bluenette grinned, “Oh captain, I’ve only just begun.”

           Steve stalked off with the other guys trailing behind him.

           An hour later, Thor was missing...

“She took out a god,” Clint yelled. “Anyone could be next.”

Sam used the radio to try and communicate teammates.

“Good spirits, friends,” Thor said. “I shall conquer the vile beast Sir Grump Paws. And return victorious.”

           Bucky was gone by the next hour. “What the fuck is wrong with this hamster?” The greatest assassin in history yelled once they contacted him via radio. “Who taught its fatass how to glare.” It went quiet. “Stevie, I… think it understand English. Shit.”

“Marinette took out the Winter Soldier,” Natasha said with raised eyebrows. “Impressive.”

           Sam went after that.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Sam just kept repeated. “We’re in a maze. Plastic tubes. We’re running. It’s after us, Steve. The hamster is after us.” It went quiet. “… I think it ate Scott.”

           Steve sighed, “Can you just talk to her?” He pleaded with Tony, “Clint’s freaked out.”

“Can’t,” Tony said. “Contract. Tony Stark cannot interfere or choose sides in an event of a Minions vs Avengers war.”

“Damn it,” Clint shouted. “This isn’t a war. This is an execution. They’re taking us out one by one, man.”

“Shouldn’t have at her macrons,” Tony smirked, proud of his minions. “She knows it was you by the way.” He told Clint. “She knows you were the one to take them.”

           Clint gulped.

           He went missing ten minutes later.

“Cap,” Clint’s voice came from the radio. “We’re going to do it. We’re going after Sir Grump Paws. It’s time. We can’t live like this, not under his reign. That monster has to be stopped. If we don’t make it, just, just… Tell our story. Tell Nat, I’ll miss her. My sister and her kids, they get all my stuff”

           Steve just looked up at the ceiling, and just looked so done with the world. He got up and went to find the interns, “What are you demands?”

           An hour later, he came back with four dozen macrons, a dozen cupcakes, sticky cheese, peppers, and a pound of gummy worms. He sat the goods on the counter. Natasha, Tony, Rhodey, and Happy looked stunned.

“You… surrendered?” Tony asked perplexed.

“Captain America doesn’t surrender,” Rhodey stated.

           Happy shook his head, “You can’t give in, Cap. I know these rugrats. You gotta set boundaries.”

           Steve just shrugged, “Eighty percent of our team is missing. They just want junk food.”

“It’s a good trade,” Marinette said as she led the other interns, including Pepper’s intern MJ and tech Intern named Ned, into the kitchen. She held the Captain’s America shield proudly.  Peter carried Bucky’s arm. Thor’s hammer floated behind Riri, carried by Plagg and Trixx. Harley had redwing and Clint’s arrow. The kids placed the weapons down on the table.

           However before they could grab the goodies, Steve crossed his arm, “Nope. My friends first!”

“Right behind us,” Riri said.

           Suddenly a squeaky voice was heard, “I have vanquished the dreaded foe, Son of Rogers.”

           Everyone looked down.

           In five different hamster balls, were the missing avengers, looking like they just fought a war?

“Why are they tiny?” Tony pinched his nose.

           Mj shrugged, “How else were they supposed to have gladiatorial death matches with a hamster?”

“Oh, of course,” Tony said sarcastically. “Silly me.”

           It took the tiny avengers half an hour to get back to normal. Hamsters were added to the tower’s banned list.

           Fury showed up later that day. He glared at the interns, Stark’s minions; Ladybug, Spiderman, Iron Heart, and WarIron, “I’m here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative.”

“No, you’re not!” Tony yelled from wherever he was.

           Marinette woke up a few days later; thirsty. She saw it was close to midnight so she decided to rush to the kitchen to get a glass of milk. As she headed to the kitchen, she saw something out the corner of her eyes that had her quickly backtracking.

           In the dining room was Loki, Bucky, Tony, Natasha, Rhodey, Clint, Plagg, Wayzz, and Trixx siting around the table, playing what looked to be poker.

“The girl who tormented by brother and the avengers,” Loki said approvingly. “With a rodent.”

           Marinette nodded, “Deal me in.”

           She’d sleep when she’s dead.

           The next day, Steve and Pepper would both find themselves knocking on Marinette’s bedroom door. One to get an arm back. The other the keys to Tony’s Lamborghini. Only to find Thor already there requesting his brother’s helmet back.

             Gambling with Marinette was added to the Tower’s banned list.