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sparkmender · 3 years

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Here’s the first chapter of Close Encounters, the Faebug/Hive AU series I’ve been working on. I’m gonna cross post most of this stuff to Tumblr too just in an effort to keep things organized. :>

It’s Monday night—

The last Monday night before the end of the world, not that anyone knows it—

And there are two blue, pupil-less eyes the size of the headlights on her beat up VW Beetle staring at her through her bedroom window.

They blink out almost as soon as Charlie twitches. Whatever it was probably got spooked off by the fact that she jolted upright in bed and stared right back at it, compelled by— something. That feeling of being watched. The remnants of a nightmare. Whatever.

If whatever the eyes belonged to made noise as it departed, she couldn’t hear it over the buzz of the heavy fan her mom helped her drag into the big bedroom when she moved in to the old Ochoco house. It might as well not’ve been there at all.

Except for the fact that she saw it, and all the hair on the back of her neck and along her arms stood like she’d rubbed a balloon over herself to see the static electricity.

Lots of things had been a little weird since yesterday, though. Especially in the upper Northwest. It’s not exactly every day that a volcano goes off in the United States. Even if Oregon is a state away from Washington, Sunday had been stressful, to say the least. Some part of her had anticipated another explosion at some point. Guillermo had teased her for being a worry-wart and then started listing off all sorts of possibly apocalyptic events from most to least likely on his fingers. He got to ‘alien robots who disguise themselves as kitchen appliances’ before Charlie threw a shoe at him.

Under the quilt next to her, Guillermo sleeps as he always does, an arm shoved under his ridiculous stack of pillows and his long legs tangled in more than his fair share of the sheets.

Maybe it’s all in her head. Dreams were supposed to be how the brain processed stuff that happened during the day, right? So.

So she’s not crazy. It’s just her brain trying to make sense of the whole active volcano thing compounded by childhood fears and the well-ingrained camping habit of keeping an ear out for bears trying to pilfer your supplies.

Probably.

Charlie doesn’t sleep the rest of the night, or she could have sworn she hadn’t, but between this blink and the next the alarm is going off on the nightstand and Memo’s already in the kitchen, fighting with the coffee maker he can’t stand to get rid of because he bought it with his first paycheck from his magazine gig. (Who knew speculative sci-fi nerd writing not only paid, but paid well, with the right kind of publisher?) If he’d heard anything in the night, he doesn’t mention it.

After pulling her socks on but before shoveling flapjacks into her mouth, the eyes are forgotten.

If they’d ever existed at all.

————

In fact, the eyes remain forgotten all the way until her third break of the day, hanging out with two of the older rangers who’d come back to the main office after clearing out a couple of downed trees off the Crater Lake hiking trail. Samson Jr.— who usually went by ‘Spike’— was a lanky, shaggy brunet a few years older than Charlie who still got carded at every bar they went to, with a permanent sunburn across the bridge of his nose and a personality so sunny it bordered on obnoxious. On the other hand, his father, Samson Sr., was a warm, stocky man who worked construction before throwing his lot in with parks and recreation and could have been anywhere from his mid 40s to his late 60s. They’d both been there when Charlie had started as an intern in college and were probably both going to still be there if she ever decided to leave or get transferred somewhere warmer, like California, or something.

She liked the both of them. Samson was more of a family figure to her than her stepdad Ron, and he’d helped her get a permanent spot on the team. Sometimes she and Memo went out with Spike and his girlfriend Carly, and Memo and Spike had more than a few interests in common. Mainly Star Wars, but also stuff like He-Man and tabletop games and computers. Most of it went over Charlie’s head— she’d grown up a music nerd thanks to Dad and a car fanatic thanks to Uncle Hank, never much one for pulp fiction— but she and Carly enjoyed teasing the two of them for being ‘Oregon’s own X-Files department.'

So it wasn’t exactly surprising when Spike brought up his perennial fixation, Bigfoot theories, again.

“I don’t know,” he’d started, mouth full of half of a Snickers bar as he waved the other end of it around for emphasis. “I don’t know. But I don’t think that those trees just fell over for no reason. I mean, there were some aftershocks from the eruption, right? But nothing out here. It kind of looked more like some kind of impact hit them, sort of like a boulder had rolled down the hill and toppled ‘em over. But that doesn’t make any sense either, since there’s no loose rocks large enough to knock over three whole fir trees on that side of the trail. Maybe it was a Sasquatch. I bet they mark their territory by brushing up against trees like the bears do, and this one just got over-enthusiastic.”

Samson snatched the other half of the candy bar before Spike could accidentally smack Charlie with it, just to toss it back into the basket of goodies on the windowsill again.

“First of all, stop raiding the candy stash. That’s for visitors, and last I checked, you haven’t been a visitor since you were 16,” the older man scolded, but he couldn’t quite keep the amusement off his face— Spike had to have gotten his enthusiasm from somewhere. “And something tells me that if there really was a ‘sat-squash’ or whatever it is, it probably wouldn’t be hanging around where there’s regular humans coming and going all day, every day. At least if it knew what was good for it. It was just a regular tree fall, it’s been cleared, and now we’ve got more firewood for the campers.”

Though mourning the loss of his candy, Spike was quick to poke a finger in the air triumphantly at Samson.

“Okay, but how do you explain the fur clumps we found scattered there, huh? Way softer than any regular sort of wild animal.”

Charlie had been absently nodding along to their pseudo-argument, only to perk up at Spike’s outburst, dropping the pen she’d been fiddling with. And then curse herself out silently as both of the older rangers turned to her at the way she’d reacted. In the back of her head, she remembered: that split-second glimpse of those unnaturally big eyes, framed by fluff and set into a broad, flat face.

“Uh.”

Spike grinned.

“See? Charlie agrees with me—”

“She said ‘uh,’ Junior, that’s not an agreement—”

“I mean, maybe,” she blurts out before she can stop herself, heat flushing her face at the outburst, awkwardly picking up the pen she’d dropped to snap the cap over it again. “I don’t know what’s out there. You know what they tell us when we start ranger training; don’t go off the trails.”

God, it’s like Charlie can’t help herself, suddenly, as superstitious and paranoid as one of the characters Memo would write into his stories. It was all just stuff the trainers would tell them to haze the kids starting out, the sort of shit teenagers joked about or camp councilors made up to freak out their campers. None of it was actually true. But in another life, maybe, to someone more interesting or smarter or less lucky (or luckier, some stupid impulse wants to say) than Charlie—

For a moment, vivid and shining, Charlie felt some spark of pure terror in her.

The thing in her bedroom window. Was it still near her house? Was she going to come home to find Guillermo missing, or worse?

“Sure, some of it is just common sense safety guidelines, but what about the weirder ones? The rules about not climbing random staircases in the woods— don’t stop to listen to any music if you’re not near a registered campsite, like that’s ever been a thing? Or never telling someone you meet without gear on a trail what your name is? I mean, there’s got to be some kind of a reason for these things, or else we wouldn’t all have them hammered into our skulls over the course of three years,” she rambles, pulse thudding in her ears. “Nobody makes up how-tos about things for no reason.”

In the quiet pause in conversation that followed, Charlie felt the embarrassed burn on her face spread to her ears and creep down the back of her neck.

“…Or it’s an opportunistic raccoon?” she squeaks out.

“Probably a raccoon. Damn.” Spike finally relents, shoulders slumping with a dejected sigh. He really looks genuinely disappointed, soon ambling over to drape himself over Charlie’s desk in the hopes of some sympathy pats as Samson chuckles in the background about how today’s cinema is rotting everybody's brains out their ears.

————

Nobody notices the candy basket on the windowsill going missing as they head back out to do rounds of the campgrounds.

#v|hive means home #!|writing #INFLICTS FANFICTION ON YOU

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chimswae · 3 years

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Untold Bonus Part 3

Foreword:

Some stories are better left unsaid.I couldn’t change anything for the world, although the fame part of this industry is tough to handle.Do i have a life? Yes I have my fans.Do i have friends? Yes the members that I cherish. Do i have love? No I have to let go.Life always offers you a second chance. It’s called tomorrow. But do i have any tomorrow?

Pairing: Jimin x OC (Other characters: BTS, OCs, Lee Taehwan)

Genre: Idolau, Fluff, Romance, Father!Au

Word Count: 2,324

Author Note: I totally forget to finish update Untold! forgive me ;; This is an old story of mine i think i wrote it in 2017, so please ignore my clicheness and the excessive usage of clicheness~ that makes u cringe haha

You can check full masterlist below :)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Part 3

Although their camel tour ended a little comically, everyone had fun. Hoseok on the other hand was salty the whole day because of the poop incident. As soon as they reached their hotel, Hoseok spent at least two hours in the bathroom alone taking super long bath just to get rid of the smell or whatever he thought it was. He claimed it was to stabilize his mental state after the horrifying event.

Hoseok could be a little too dramatic sometimes, no one could stop that guy.

Leaving Hoseok with his delusional thought, others went to get dinner at nearby restaurant and bought takeaways food for him to savor later on. Enjoying the night city view, the stars sparkle in the night sky.

“I love the city when it shuts down” Jimin whispers.

Yeoul smiled upon hearing that low and raspy voice of his, so enticing. They both strolled the parks pedestrian pathways following others from behind silently. The streets was empty, there were minimal number of people around and most of them were couples. The emptiness was strange and magnificent.

“This is perfect” she squished their hand tighter.

In front of them, there were Taehyung with his cameras and his loyal assistant Kim Namjoon, his eyes fixated on his gadgets. These two guys sometimes stopped in the middle of their walk to take good picture and admiring them afterwards. Or ended up bickering over Vante’s photos.

Maknae and Jin on the other side were busy scanning the city and finding good spots to shop, though there were fewer shops opened past 11. The couple did not give up on whatever they were planning to buy, more like souvenirs.

Taehwan and Yoongi went back earlier than them since they wanted to catch up their sleep, with that they offered to bring Minyeol together. Poor Minyeol being dragged around by the adults. Not to mention, they still had to feed loner Jung Hobi, that guy must be starving.

Yeoul and Jimin took their time to enjoy this night stroll exchanging funny stories or stealing glances. Being with Jimin taught Yeoul how to swoon him with a simple flirt and playful kisses. She was taught well.

“Baby..Let’s ditch them” he tugged on Yeoul arm preventing her to move.

“Are you crazy? They will flip out” raising her eyebrows with a questionable look, she watched Jimin took his phone typing something in his phone.

Jimin grinned “Done. I notify them in our Kakaotalk group,so lets go” he pecked her lips, intertwining their hand together. Yeoul could only smile at his randomness and followed him wherever he wished to go. Anywhere with Jimin is everywhere she wanted to be.

Like a flash the couple disappeared from their vicinity for their own oh-not-so-romantic midnight tour. Jin and Jungkook had so much sense in them that they did not even care when they left unlike someone who insisted of following those two. Another reason how they ended in Morocco anyways, Kim Taehyung really need to stop pursuing different career in his life. The preferred V and Vante for now.

Please don’t turn him into Varazzi or something.

------------------------

There sitting side by side, two pure soul enjoying each other company under dark sky accompanied by the heat from the bonfire across them. Being drawn by the warmth of their body heat, Yeoul snuggled in Jimin’s embrace smiling as he rested his chin on top of her head.

The fire glimmered and gleamed, its warmth drawn people in creating an atmosphere for sharing and making memories. As the night grows, they wished to linger around just a little longer in the warmth and contentment around the fire.

Everything about tonight was perfect.

“Aren’t you tired?” he was the one who first broke the silence between them.

Jimin felt Yeoul shifted a little in his embrace and soon he heard she replied “Tired of what? You? That is impossible.. I prefer to cling onto you for the rest of my life” she teased while wrapping her arm around his waist tighter.

“You cannot be tired of me. My charms are overflowing” he gazed down into her dark orbs. A pair of eyes that never failed to draw him in into this crazy world. World with unspeakable love. World that fills with hope. World that fills with happiness.

If she were to list down her weakness when it came to Jimin, his gaze would definitely on the list. In fact, that’s her utmost weakness.

“Aren’t you being a little over confident right now Park Jimin-ssi?” she ran her thumb over his lips, stroking it softly.

“I don’t mind if it is you I am trying to win over” caressing the back of his hand along Yeoul’s soft cheeks, Jimin closed the gap between them and locking her into a long endearing kiss. A kiss that he wished to give everyday.

Their lips move just perfectly in sync following their rapid heartbeat. He stroke over her back in a light touch that sent tingles in her heart. Every time their lips touched the spark ignite anew. Yeoul placed her palm upon his chest over his heart and felt it strong steady beat. The kiss deepened as she could feel with every stroke of his tongue latching onto hers.

They broke the kiss to catch a deep breath “You are irresistible Park Jimin” Yeoul mumbled against his lips.

“I am sorry. You have to deal with it until death do us part” nuzzling her face, Jimin chuckled softly.

“I don’t mind” this time Yeoul was the one who initiate their second round. Locking her arm around his neck tight, she pulled him down for another kiss. Who knows a kiss with Jimin can be addicting? Well Yeoul had her whole life to deal with it.

----------------------

It was time to get back to reality. Everyone was physically ready to be back in Korea but not mentally. They will be missing Morocco for sure. Nonetheless, thanks to Kim Taehyung unexpected plan Yeoul and Jimin stays in Morocco was extra fun than they expected. Creating new memories with their loved one especially Bangtan, Taehwan and Minyeol, it was beyond perfect.

Boarding the plane on time, everyone got into their seat. First class seat as they said, but Jungkook was stuck with Jin for the whole journey, how unfortunate. He liked his hyung but sometimes he’s a little too bubbly for someone at his age. Considering he is in the hyung line, Jungkook felt he had slowly shifted toward the maknae line.

Welcome aboard Kim Seokjin!

Even before the plane took off, Jin insisted to sit on the aisle and made Jungkook stay in the middle. They had no idea who would take the window seat but scratch that, he hoped that person wouldnt snore that much.

Jungkook eyes wandered at the direction of their seat and noticed the window seat was already occupied. He couldn’t get a full view of the person but he’s sure it was a girl. So, he sank in his seat carefully not to startle the girl whom seemed engross with her reading. She had earphone plugged in both of her ears got him less anxious to sit behind a stranger some more a girl.

The older boy came few minutes later with a triumph grin plastered across his face, more like mocking Jungkook for sitting beside a girl.

Maknae grunted under his breath feeling unfair as he sent death glare at Jin’s way “If it weren’t for you……” Jin dumbfounded look was even annoying.

As the plane was ready for take off, Jungkook stole a glance at the girl beside him. He admired her long eyelashes, and her soft fluffy cheeks which again reminded him Jimin’s puffy one. Her fingers were beautiful and those accessories that she wore fitted perfectly around it. He tore his gaze from examining her feature even more like a creep. Jungkook had no idea why was he so nervous when the girl beside him showed no interest to start a conversation even a simple hi.

You are so stupid Jungkook. He grimaced.

The first hour of the journey, Jungkook had decided to pay all his attention on the games in his phone. His mind sometimes was too wild and he tended to over thinking too. The girl snapped the book closed as she stifled her yawn, stretching her aching muscle.

She loved window seat since she had more space for herself and most importantly she didn’t have to deal with strangers on plane. Engaging into unimportant conversation was one thing, but she hated people who snore in the plane.

Thank god, the two guys beside him seemed normal. She totally forgot to take a glance at the guy beside him and only to realize he’s quite good looking. Not an average look for a man at his age, but his eyes and those visible veins were her weakness.

Reaching out to her hair, she’s about to tie it into a bun but only to lose grip on her red hairband. It landed just few inch from Jungkook’s feet. Jungkook realized that and put away his phone. He bent down to pick the hairband up but at the same time the girl was already reaching for it. Their head were hitting each other, earning a low gasp from both Jungkook and the girl.

Jungkook straightened up with a baffle look “I am so sorry” he apologized earnestly.

The girl took the hairband and rubbed her sore head with a small smile “It is alright. I am sorry for dropping this” their eyes met. The girl grew anxious at the sudden staring battle that they had right now. She touched her face in case she smeared her lipstick.

“I am sorry? Is there something wrong” she inquired.

He was brought back to his sense as he blurted without he realize “Nothing. You are just pretty” Jungkook himself couldn’t believe what’s coming out from his sinful mouth. Clasping his hand over his mouth, he patted it giving it a scold.

The girl blushed upon hearing his compliment as he watched him in horror “W-hat…” she faked a laugh and averted her gaze from Jungkook.

“I mean..I didn’t mean to say that. That is just weird. I am sorry again” He bowed a little hoping he would not scare the girl away. What’s wrong with him anyway? This stupid filthy little mouth gave away compliment so casually especially to a stranger like her.

She shook her head “It is alright. It must be the gravity” she reasoned.

Jungkook bit his lower lips to surpass his chuckle at her silly reply “Urm.. I am Jeon Jungkook by the way” he flashed her a charming smile not trying to win her over but that’s just how he smiled.

The girl was taken aback at first not expecting the guy beside her would introduce himself. This was the start of every conversation, how she hated that. Therefore just to be polite, she replied Jungkook casually “Nari…Son Nari” her eyes gleams.

“Nari.. Nice to meet you Nari-ssi”

“You too Jungkook-ssi”

Interestingly, this Son Nari girl seemed to not recognize him. Not to sound like a superstar, but to be frank everyone knew Bangtan Sonyeondan but for some reason this girl had zero idea of his existence as one of famous idol members.

After exchanging their names, they fell into silence again. Nari exasperated a sigh of relief knowing Jungkook was not a talkative person, so she could enjoy this plane ride with ease.

Little did Jungkook know, Jin was actually faking him being asleep. He heard it all up until those little innocent conversation made by Jungkook introducing himself to some random girl. It was a rare sight but he’s proud of his dongsaeng mustering his courage to talk to opposite sex.

Jungkook stiffened in his seat still contemplating whether to ask questions or kept his mouth shut. Part of him wanted to prolong this conversation as he was curious of this Son Nari person. A soft sigh escaped as his fingers fiddled nervously.

“You should be thanking me later Jeon” a soft voice whispered awfully low and close to his ears causing him to jerk backwards accidentally hitting Nari again.

“I AM SO SORRY AGAIN” he looked over at the confused girl and threw a nasty glare at Jin, grinding his teeth together.

“You seem to have the knack of bumping into others clumsily” she chortled.

The corner of his lips tugged into an embarrass smile “I thought there was a bug on my seat” he lied. Studying her facial more clearly know, he could tell she’s judging him considering how hard she tried to hold back her laughter.

“Actually you kinda remind me of one of my friends.. he is..” Nari couldn’t believe with her own eyes that she actually felt comfortable talking to a stranger exchanging their stories and life which was she rarely did every time in public.

But..Jungkook. Something about him made it feel different.

Was it his smiley face?

Was it his perfectly round eyes?

Was it his giggly side every time he got shy?

It had always been a start of something new. Nari could use new friends.

Previous | Next: Epilogue

#untoldseries #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #jimin x oc #jimin idolau #jimin father au #park jimin father au #bts series #jimin parenthood au

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sugar-petals · 5 years

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bleeding hearts and happy days [m.]

❖ pairing. | dom!reader x sub!taehyung x sub!baekhyun

❖ summary. | you meet up with two escorts in an abandoned hotel room.

❖ a/n. | tumblr doesn’t like my sad horny shakespearean fic right here, this is a reupload. random parts of the story disappeared without a trace, so here we go again.

❖ word count. | 7.1k

❖ genre. | smut, angst, prostitution au, drama — starcrossed lovers

❖ warnings. | major character death implied, polyamory, threesome, bdsm, bondage, femdom, noona kink, cigarettes on skin, smoking kink, harnesses, ball gags, riding, pregnancy kink, crying, slapping, bruises, lace & mesh, tattoos, bj with teeth, lactation kink, aftercare, tae doms baekhyun briefly, hair-pulling, neck pain, spanking, unhealthy relationships, infertility, medication, alcohol, mentioned abuse, jealousy/rivalry, motorcycle accident

❖ masterlist

It’s so late that the reception is long closed. Nobody in this hotel bothers with anything, really. But he has Room 31′s rusty key and a little note with your name on it.

Determined to find the right corridor fast since his watch says he’s running late. Fifteen minutes past the usual time.

The client earlier had simply been a pain, but that’s just life. He moves on, takes the money. One bruise more or less won’t make him any more shattered at this point.

Finding the floor isn’t so difficult. As he suspected, the Incheon Royal is a small hotel indeed despite its big name.

Everyone knows the Royal's heyday has already passed.

It’s harder to tell from the outside because of the neighboring houses that blend into the building complex. All of them are ugly as shit. So Baekhyun would not spend too much time looking at them. He would rather rummage in his red bag to see if he didn’t forget anything.

He’d rather look at you, no matter how bitter-sweet the feeling in his chest is.

That’s why he agreed to do all of this in the first place.

31 is halfway posh judging by the door, but still quite a tiny spot in the very last corner of the house, first floor. Most of the lighting here is defunct, so he uses the brightness of his phone screen boasting a holiday picture from Osaka. He’s glad he got the keys. Knocking would feel so weird, you’ve never done this before.

Fucking each other in a hotel, that is.

You usually meet Baekhyun at his place, or the place as he always says. Which is cozy because he knows how to decorate it with lights and fabric. Who knows who taught him all that. His little space there is great. Unlike the shabby wall that welcomes him here in Room 31′s little hell. The door’s appearance has been deceptive enough. There’s no stench coming from somewhere dodgy in this apartment, gladly. But that’s a very low standard, isn’t it?

And who had the idea to rent this — Kim Taehyung, that handsome motherfucker.

Baekhyun promises himself to smoke five cigarettes later.

He turns to find you in the bathroom trying to detangle your hair after a busy day. The sixth album of The Doors is on repeat in the living room. It makes him hum to the beat, he’s heard it so often. You’re rolling down your stockings when he enters, laughing.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, this is—”

“Quite perfect, pretty messed up.”

And you’re certain about this. No other spot in the outskirts of Incheon City would be better. Taehyung is not as naïve as literally anyone at the place thinks.

“He booked it with good reason.”

“You sure?”

Baekhyun puts down the key, his bag, and joins you at the sink. He apologizes with three, four, five kisses that it took so long. His lips are chapped.

Every minute stolen hurts each time.

You tousle your hair a bit more.

He strips down and steps into the shower with only his lacy top on — because he knows you like it. It hides some scars, too, ones that he still feels shameful of. There are little roses and thorns embellishing the areas, it’s a lace pattern you haven’t seen on him yet. It’s new.

You’re glad that your money does find its way even if his debt eats it all up. He got himself a new motorcycle as well. Not the fanciest one, but it does the job. It’s parked behind the hotel, he says.

The shower is quick and shallow as not to smudge his makeup. There's already a silent arrangement, it’s your job to do that. He does sing, proud that he gets the more difficult notes right, and says that you don't have to bother with the brushes and combs. You know he'd have your head between your legs by now, but today's different.

Baekhyun continues to belt out more, whatever comes to his mind, and you can almost forget that it's Room 31 you're in.

You want to show him the towels when there’s a hastened knock on the door. He's huffing.

“The sucker's here!”

Baekhyun hurries outside the bathroom, leaving wet blotches all over the carpet on his way. Not that anybody in this hotel would care. Who knows when this carpet has been inspected for the last time.

You hear Taehyung’s agitated, happy voice alternate with Baekhyun’s scolding in the entrance room after the door creaks open. You think your hair won’t get any better no matter what you try anyways, and peek out of the bathroom door grinning.

“I like it here. It’s got antiques, they’re just really dusty.”

“See!” says Taehyung who currently leans an umbrella against the wall. “Knew she likes places like these.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. But he won’t say anything now. Taehyung pulls off his trenchcoat smiling. You point at his umbrella.

“It really rained?”

“Was just a quick shower, the weather isn’t bad. Did he have it worse?”

Taehyung cocks a brow up at still-wet Baekhyun.

“Washed up, you just interrupted. The question is, are you clean?”

“Cleaner than a senior getting naked for a client faster than it’s normal.”

Baekhyun bites down hard on his bottom lip. You pull both of them into the living room where the TV is on, showing Cher’s greatest hits or something. It’s just the music channel. Taehyung instantly starts swaying to the beat while Baekhyun remains stiff.

In any other case, he’d probably swallow it up and act like it’s nothing. Clients pay more for a threeway than when he just shows up solo.

But it’s you.

He has learned that he can be himself. Good and bad sides. The latter he has many of. Maybe more of. Taehyung would agree.

To be fair, Baekhyun bears the brunt of questionable clients at his place so you don’t resent him for it. You don’t know about Taehyung. He’s probably not seen the dark side of the business yet. It’s his second time with you and Baekhyun is joining.

In fact, Baekhyun first recommended him to you for an individual session.

Cher keeps on singing, almost taunting while Taehyung flings his mesh jacket to the side and gets into position. You’ve thought a long time about how you’d do all of this, but you got the details down. And everyone agreed. Baekhyun never hesitated.

“Baek, can you pass me the bag?” Taehyung wriggles on the tacky sofa.

“Hey, uppity. It’s not yours. I’ll do that.”

And Baekhyun goes to get the bag and a towel to dry up a bit. The lace top sticks to his chest like a second skin. You can see how he moves his torso differently because he wants to show it off to you.

He returns with two ropes, two polished red ball gags.

Taehyung actually does stay perfectly still when Baekhyun starts making his usual chest harness. Loop here, strap there. It’s astounding how much more serious he is when Taehyung is with him.

You’d pay the world for them, even if Baekhyun once said he’d do it for free because he loves you. He had one bottle too much back then.

Cher switches to Barbra Streisand.

Taehyung grins weirdly once the gag is in place, provoking your smile. He knows he fucked you so good last time that you figured two times the bliss was a good idea. He still has a bruise that's rather colorful.

You proceed to fixate Baekhyun in a similar bondage style. It only takes a bit longer. His hair has dried up a fair bit; the spikes of his bangs almost get into his eyes.

He whispers once you have to bend down closely next to his head.

“Missed it too much. Y/N. They fucked me up.”

You suppress an urge to cry by pulling the rope tighter than usual where you would keep it deliberately loose. All the frustration in the world goes into this one rope. Maybe if you knot him up extra hard, he’ll forget about the days when it’s not you screwing him at the place but another oily, bearded scumbag peeing on him or some priss with gnawed off nails.

“No condoms, as usual?”

He always asks without failure, no matter how often he’s said it. It must have been a hundred times. Your answer is always the same, too.

“Wish something could actually grow in there.”

It’s never easy to say. But the look that follows in Baekhyun’s eyes has never ceased to gleam.

“Don’t you ever worry about it, Noona.”

You can’t reply for long.

“And him?” is all that comes out.

“Taehyung’s tested as well, doc came in on Friday. Seokjin can be strict on us if he really wants it. He can’t risk losing another regular.”

Seokjin, head of the place. You do like him, much more than the majority of other boys that Baekhyun sometimes has to recruit. Taehyung being one of them was a stroke of luck. You still prefer to ride Baekhyun for the night, and have the rope do its job.

But Taehyung does look beautiful tonight with his glossy lips and shiny red pants. When he peels them off, even failing to get it right once or twice, the feeling in your chest is less numb.

Baekhyun's tense, but hard enough for you to slip down on. It’s less than graceful, but you do manage somehow, fingers intertwined with the harness. The pace is raw. You're not wet enough, and he can't get it upright completely. Today’s different.

It's too much effort. Taehyung mires with big eyes and groans away when you bring Baekhyun alive with a couple thrusts. Harder than usual. Little goosebumps loom under the cover of his lace top. Taehyung’s still moaning and grinding, trying to get some friction from the rope that would lend the pleasure he is longing for. But it only hurts. That’ll do, too.

Whatever body spritz Baekhyun is always using, now that it’s gone you can smell the real him. Any shower in the world could not clean him from the way people have treated him for a few dimes, but he’s happy knowing you like his scent as it is.

It’s very sweet naturally, not rich and balmy like any perfume in his collection, nor dusty and rosy and all sandalwood, whatever they use to make it smell really thick. He’s just Baekhyun how you adore him. Vulnerable. Bound underneath you, breath so heavy, inside of you at the mercy of your hips.

A slap to the cheek only makes him harder. Taehyung struggles next to you trying to touch himself.

“Selfish boys get two.”

And you slap Taehyung twice. Three times for good measure. So strong, your own palm hurts. Even if he shakes from the impact, he still scrambles for more and tries to reach his cock. You spit on his face and turn to focus on Baekhyun again, leaving Taehyung red and sulking, even more eager.

You know exactly who taught him how to be so insatiable.

It’s easy to peel off the lacey hem at Baekhyun’s abdomen. You didn’t use too much rope to cover the area. It’s deliberate. Between your fingers blooms the tattoo that he got for your anniversary. The day has been kept secret, although people knew Baekhyun went to the parlor in a more lofty part of town.

It's a fragile stem with a row of bleeding hearts. Some opened, some still buds.

The ink’s crimson color is more vibrant than ever. How he smells like could very well be the scent of flowers, or at least you imagine it to be like that.

The tattoo marks the spot where Baekhyun is the most sensitive. It’s not enough to bounce hard on his cock until he thinks you’ll rip his foreskin right off, it’s not enough to tighten around him, making feel he suffocates just by that.

No, only the bleeding hearts make a difference.

“Who are you to me?” you say, and face the truth looking into his eyes.

“I’m your, your bitch.”

“And what does a bitch do?”

“Give you the best seed I have.”

“Then breed me good, bitch!”

Your thumbs circle in to stroke the tattoo. Not much is needed until he chews on his lip again. Baekhyun's skin is so soft in that spot, you think he went out of the way not shaving it to keep a few of his thin little hairs there.

The blood pressure pops a vein or two in his eyes when you shove your fingers into his mouth and half down his throat. He’s coughing. You keep your hips still for Baekhyun to shoot you up with his dripping release, and continue to bounce taking all the hot cum deeper.

Whenever he stopped counting the positions you tried, you gave up wanting to make it all stay inside.

Taehyung’s gonna sneer over how everyone knows it anyways.

That you’re creaming Baekhyun’s dick without protection every time, and probably have fifteen of his samples in your gyno’s basement freezer. Or your own. He once joked that you’re probably mixing it with a milkshake every morning just to be sure. He knows it tastes good.

When Baekhyun’s semen comes dripping out, you free Taehyung from his ball gag hoping something good and uplifting would come out of his mouth.

“Ever tried using his tears instead, Y/N?”

You were wrong.

The ball gag goes back. You cover the tattoo while Baekhyun’s chest finds its normal rhythm again. As an only solace, the moldy air in the hotel room is now tinted with Baekhyun’s sweat through and through. You say the words as you always do without exception.

“You’ll be my baby father so soon. We’ll be lucky this time.”

“Am all yours.”

Taehyung just sighs, wriggling more again.

"Cheesy fucks can't help it."

Click. Click, click. The lighter has been used so often, you need to give it a go three times until the flame remains standing.

They don’t bother. The hotel. Who knows if they have ever seen the day that the smoking ban was announced back in, well. Many, many years ago. Baekhyun’s jacket had left you with a vast variety to pick from.

And so, he smokes. No hands, you’re the one to tap off the ashes on Taehyung’s chest. In the hopes that it will leave some painful traces. Taehyung hates being a rookie. If there’s something that brings in cash, it’s that he’s experienced and it shows.

Even if he winces every time, or a tear comes from the corner of his eye, he doesn’t make a single noise. His cock stays down, what else would it do, he’s getting burned alive. Baekhyun smiles with the cigarette between his teeth, inhaling a bit deeper each time. The smoke mingles at the ceiling where a broken chandelier dangles back and forth.

He knows how much it hurts, you’ve done it to him twice. Or maybe three times because you’ve asked to do it again. Of course, Taehyung has seen what refused to heal on Baekhyun’s arms and shoulders for weeks. Maybe in the showers. He got jealous, that’s all you know.

“Thighs? Looks empty on there.”

You flick the cigarette from Baekhyun’s mouth again. Taehyung nods, but regrets the decision when you stub the glowing end right in the middle of the curved leg. It’s the spot where he takes care to wax the most. He’s crying, and Baekhyun laughs again.

“Now you’ve got what you wanted. That’ll stay,” he says.

Taehyung opens his mouth for the first time to speak through the tears. The gag leaves its place. The glossy lips part, more demure than ever.

“Thank you, N— noona!”

You reply pinching at Taehyung's loins. The cigarette is back between Baekhyun’s teeth.

“That's what got your dick up, didn’t it.”

Taehyung can only mouth a little Yes. He exhales, averts his gaze. No more eye contact. Just a whimper. You know it's Baekhyun who taught him that.

The cigarette smoke is denser now that you dedicate all of your attention to Taehyung. The grip on his shaft is harder than the first time he came to you. When you thought he'd be so fragile, being new to the game. But you found out he can take a whole lot. Much more than Baekhyun if you’re being honest about it.

Your clit is where the tip of his cock belongs, and where it is abused. Rubbing it, poking it, sliding it back and forth reckless abandon. Smearing Baekhyun’s cum all over the place until it feels all grimy and cold, making its way down your inner thighs. They both observe it drip, and things get hazy in the smoke.

Your fingers give Taehyung tough love in another tight seize so no pre-cum dares to peak out. It’s only until you shake him back and forth that it gets to a level where you feel at least some stimulation. Pressing him against your clit feeling how he trembles from the friction. His little noises amuse you each time.

More whimpers. You continue with a firm hold on his shaft, hoping to find out how far he can please you. He’s getting a taste of what it’s like when you grow your nails out. And shake him more. The feeling becomes stronger. Maybe he can satisfy you today. Work’s been tough, it's deeply needed.

You take a deep breath to inhale the cloud of nicotine that’s been building all around, and ride the wave it brings. Baekhyun will get you hooked on these, fuck him. But you’re breathing it with Taehyung’s dick grazing between your legs.

It's providing at least a bit of heat now that you've gone cold. Making you feel something Baekhyun increasingly won’t manage to fulfill. Well, unless he keeps whispering “I’ll knock you up, mommy” with his cock balls deep up your ass. Because by now, you both believe it’s likelier that you get pregnant this way. Taehyung on the other hand just has to mumble anything to turn you on. His voice is so raspy and deep. Everything about his body feels vital, and voluptuous, so pretty, so fertile.

Baekhyun knows that.

And if that’s what will get you going, he’ll watch like this.

With you cumming all over Taehyung’s cock. It’s such a beautiful icing. The relief is not only physical, but mental. You still chafe him across your labia with no end in sight, because those are the seconds you pay for that Baekhyun can’t give you. Taehyung is glad to be so hard, otherwise he’d break like a straw. You love how thick his girth grows, it likes your hands and their pressure, and you coating him with a fresh creamy glaze.

If Baekhyun is your bitch, Taehyung is your personal joystick to drip on.

You don’t pay him as well as you would like to, but he’s ridiculously cheap. Seokjin won’t let him take tips unless he fucked his way up, it’s how it is. He’s not made a name for himself yet, but the orgasms he gives you leave a special feeling for countless minutes after. It’s probably how much cash Baekhyun makes that causes Taehyung to work so much harder. You can see it in his eyes. But if all goes well, he won’t get money to clear a dozen figures debt like Baekhyun does. That’s what keeps him going. Or maybe he just has a magic dick.

Baekhyun knows the answer. He’d pay Taehyung to get you off himself if only Seokjin allowed it. But, as far as you know, the place has plenty of rules.

Baekhyun can’t stop grinning, but you don’t. Your high faded when he ogled the pack of cigarettes again. There are only few of them left inside, all in shambles.

“Your lungs are tar black already. Before your heart is...”

A few last puffs swirl to the ceiling when you take the cigarette to the center glass table where it fades out. The smell still lingers. You return to flip him around on the spot. A series of firm slaps find their way to Baekhyun’s ass. Every strike buries him deeper in the pillows face down.

“That’s for laughing. If someone laughs, it’s me. Did you get that, babe?”

“I apologize!”

“Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t!”

“His pain is mine to enjoy. Not yours.”

Another smack.

“I promise, I won’t do it again, Noona, please! I won't!”

“Taehyung even said thank you. When will you ever say that, bitch?”

“You know I’ll never be ungrateful, you know it.”

"Mean it, baby?"

"Really do."

Baekhyun is crying. With a bright red ass and makeup completely smudged into the pillow. These are possibly the only two things he has not given up being vain about, and you love ruining them. At the end of the day, it’s what he finds enjoyable about his profession. You’re the only one who is allowed to do it, after all.

“Been a while since I could see you blush. Not just in the face,” you poke his left buttcheek, eliciting a little sniff. “Pity that you cake it on, you always have to cry for me to get that shit off.”

You get to loosen up Taehyung’s rope now. It left deep traces, but it looks good on him.

“The day he wears no makeup is the day he dies,” Taehyung twirls at Baekhyun’s hair, and they both have to smile through the tears.

“At least he’s self-aware,” you drag up the lithe body from the pillow to cry at your chest. You’ve got a white shirt on, but who cares. “Why not cry a bit more for me, baby?”

And maybe Taehyung was right with tears.

Baekhyun has a hard time swallowing up Taehyung’s cock the way you want it. Every tug and shove at the back of his head makes him want to throw up more. All over the place like a decoration for Taehyung’s abdomen, but there’s nothing in his stomach that could possibly come up beside some bitter pulp and a pill. But he keeps on shoving himself down to the rhythm dictated by your hand in his hair, and hopes for the best.

Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke today.

Who knows how often he’s done that. Maybe it’s the only thing his throat is ever useful for. If he's fucked up, he's vivid. Talk's worthless, there is no sense in it. Throwing up on someone's balls at least makes him feel that there's still a bit of life somewhere in his gut. But he'd rather keep it down for the sake of the other.

Food he’s given up on. But if he’s fed cock by you, maybe he feels better about himself. With a little practice, Taehyung is good breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He’ll consider blowing him some other time, maybe with a camera and client involved for some extra cash. Nothing’s for free. Gagging and taking it on the face gets him a bonus, too. Deepthroat is where the money is.

The pain at the back of his neck won’t be getting any better, but his tongue can’t complain. Taehyung did clean himself up just like he said. He could make it far, further than Baekhyun himself, with a huge waiting list at the place. But one thing he can’t do is choke so violently like this. One day, Taehyung might learn even that. A fast learner, isn't he? Yet as long as he gets a cock big enough rammed into his skull on the daily, Baekhyun's the best out there, and the worst in its best sense. If his brain comes out one day, he won't complain either. One less thing to worry about.

Bitches are dumb, that's what they are. Dumb as fuck. They give their mistress good semen instead. And get over neck pain.

The pace is vile. He knows that your arm won’t give up thrusting him down anytime soon. Baekhyun imagines how it must be like having your eyes. How it would be like to see it. Him trying to handle Taehyung’s dick with just a small mouth, good cheeks, no teeth, and a little courage. Gagging and drooling spit all over the place and half unconscious because it’s so good. You love his glossy eyes. They’re always so gorgeous. Baekhyun must be the most beautiful boy in the whole world when he does that. But he's too fast stuffing himself.

Of course, he throws up. Who wouldn’t, you have both of your index fingers hooked inside the corners of his mouth to keep him open wide, and Taehyung just keeps on thrusting his hips upward. The bitter taste alone makes Baekhyun vomit again, this time on the carpet. He’s so dizzy. He needs more cock to feel full and healthy again. You want to give him a minute, but he’s faster than that. Though less swift than Taehyung who knows that once Baekhyun’s stomach is already empty, he can pound away and fully destroy him. But both of them have to obey your pacing.

And this time, your tugging at Baekhyun’s hair is slow and gentle. So Taehyung follows that, too. Baekhyun’s lips look blurry, so crimson all around, and you make sure to hold his head down entirely to swallow Taehyung’s balls. Fucking his neck up entirely so his next client will be desperate in trying to use it, and failing. It's the only way he'll ever be yours. Taehyung's balls inside of him or not.

As far as he can judge with the bitterness in his mouth, they do taste good. Hallelujah, what a day. It’s just that his throat can only handle so many, and cracked lips are hell on earth. Gladly Taehyung has brittle stamina, especially because it’s Mister tightest throat alive sucking him off. At least that’s how the other boys call Baekhyun at the place. He keeps on sucking with that in mind, but the tug at his hair leaves no room for contemplation, nor does Taehyung's growling.

You've heard it before. It's so needy, but deeply hurt. Baekhyun bites down on him at the tap of your finger on his little wrist. The signal.

Taehyung blows up all messy and sticky until it drops out of Baekhyun’s nose. It's less bitter. How long did he have blue balls? It must have been more than an hour. You do the signal again for Baekhyun to unclench his jaw and bob his head again, to get at least a bit of Taehyung’s semen down. Because ultimately, the more you make him move, the more he has to cough and swallow. Breathing is hard now, but he’ll manage for the remaining seconds until you let go of his hair. He gags down the rest, even with vomit. His eyes are empty, but his cheeks glow.

“My baby did amazing.”

You wipe your sleeve at his nose. It wets almost immediately. Baekhyun sniffs and declines the sleeve, which you retreat. He's exhausted.

At least he doesn't do coke. He does cum.

Baekhyun pops off scrambling at your t-shirt almost immediately, and you curse yourself for not getting rid of it earlier. Even if Taehyung and literally anybody else at the place thinks it’s a little bit silly despite it being so standard, Baekhyun loves to suck your tits to calm himself down. For half an hour, well if he can, attaching to one breast at a time with both hands and his rosebud mouth. If they’d give him even one drop of milk, he would swim the entirety of the Pacific and back to drink it.

Taehyung giggles along while you pull off your shirt and have a clumsy go at it — Baekhyun’s too dizzy still, so he misses the mark as it usually happens. Although Taehyung is easily shushed, it still feels awkward. So you ask him to join. They alternate between sucking and kissing each other, having Taehyung taste his own cum and lubricating Baekhyun’s lips with it. What’s all over the carpet doesn’t really matter. It’s just the smell that makes you want to switch rooms. It’s all over Taehyung, too. So you decide to have the boys finish quite early into today's new fourty minute goal, suavely parting from your breast. The side where Baekhyun had led feels like it was about to tinge, but then again, just leaves a tense aureola for once. Next time, you ponder, would be a good time to admonish him. It's not like sucking dick where you get more for the heavier sucks. It's like love where there is a fine line between trying too hard and doing it just right.

The cubicle of the shower is calcified and rustier than the key to the apartment itself, nor do three people really fit inside the entire construction to begin with. But the showerhead works, so you use that one to get at least a bit of water rain down, and manage to get the grime off the boys and your breasts. Taehyung looks happy when you use too much soap on him, and tries to mess with Baekhyun’s hair so it’ll stand up vertically. With limited success, but Baekhyun is at least trying to retaliate getting Taehyung’s bubbly hair in a mess.

He’s not as sleepy as he usually is, which turns out to be a good sign as you think of it. Baekhyun has probably been rejecting one or two late-night clients recently. He never used to do that. For the sake of his rep, his wallet, his peace of mind because his perfectionism wouldn’t let him off the hook to have a good night’s sleep instead. But he’s not been busy so often in the last three weeks, you can tell by his social media updates and his texts. It’s rare that he gets a break or has the financial backing for it. Then again, it’s only been two clients or so. The ones who’d rather make him unable to go on working, so it would be counterproductive to spread his legs for them. Or maybe it was just Seokjin who made him take a day off out of necessity.

“You stole three of my clients!” Baekhyun goes on shoving water into Taehyung’s direction. “This is what you get for it!”

And there it is. You were wrong again.

“Can’t help being popular,” Taehyung replies ever so nonchalantly by taking the showerhead from you and spritzing Baehyun down head to toe until all the soapy mess is gone. “Clients aren’t deaf to house gossip, they pick new favorites each week.”

You snatch the showerhead back from the braggart and turn it in his direction at full blast. He ends up squealing and dancing in circles to avoid the water where it goes, but soon falls into Baekhyun’s arms because the shower floor is too slippery. Baekhyun flinches a bit when Taehyung rubs against him by accident.

"The tattoo?" Taehyung asks. You rummage with the soap again.

"Never had a day where it didn't feel sensitive," Baekhyun says.

"I want something like that, too, Noona!"

"Tae, you don't have a weak spot as far as I know."

"Really?"

"At least to this degree."

"What was getting it done like?"

"He fainted outside the parlor."

"No way!"

"He didn't drink and eat enough that day and it was boiling hot. The pain was only pulling the trigger on him."

You turn off the showerhead and towel down Baekhyun — save his face of course. He clings to the rest of what’s on there come fire or high water.

Before you can dry up Taehyung, the power is down in the hotel. Only the street lights illuminate the bathroom where you go by their silhouettes to finish up. You can’t tell whether it’s Taehyung, Baekhyun, or both kissing you quick in the dark. It's wet, it's cold, everything spins. A bad feeling in your gut lingers past their sloppy mouths that the night is over, and you're nowhere near the same as before. None of you is.

By the time Taehyung gets his phone to lighten up the hallway, power is back.

“I put some beetroot in the fridge. Go get yourself a slice or two, baby.”

Baekhyun shuffles into the corner, takes a tablecloth to open the fridge because the handle is crusty and yellow. The inside it halfway clean, especially since you put some plates in there earlier. And beetroot. It’s one of the few things he actually likes. It tastes disgusting, leaves red and violet blotches everywhere, and won’t ever make him full. That’s precisely why he likes it. You buy it because of whatever vitamins it has. Taehyung just thinks its weird and sometimes leaves cookies in the hallway for Baekhyun to chew on after he took two clients or so.

“There’s noodles, too. From Mr. Kim’s delivery. If you eat half of it, maybe mommy gives you a kiss on the forehead.”

You’re half joking. Or maybe not. Baekhyun considers the plate at least, removes the wrap, and smells at it. He picks up a fork wordlessly and stirs the meal. Since he doesn’t like being watched while eating, you and Taehyung sit down in the other room to have some chicken. The door in between is shut not to distract him with the smell. You do hear the fridge open and close two times while eating with Taehyung.

He says you did a good job. His chest still hurts. And Baekhyun really bit down hard blowing him so he can still feel it. His Friday clients will appreciate how it'll look like. He’s gonna have his asshole ravaged so hard, some unnerved doc has to stitch it back in. But now’s not the time to think about it. The chicken is delicious and you look so beautiful. He could get used to this. One day he might even have enough money to buy you some elaborate seafood dish from the luxury restaurant opposite to Mr. Kim. Be a good boy to you, get a big tip and a nice fuck. Life could be a dream and chicken is a splendid glimpse of it.

After more rummaging noises in the kitchen, Baekhyun returns with a little soy sauce showing around his mouth. He looks so downcast. You ask how he feels.

"You already know," he mumbles.

"Baby, sometimes even I can't read your mind."

"Hm."

"If you don't want to say it, that's okay."

"Noona..."

"Yes?"

He slumps down next to you, having the corners of his mouth wiped by Taehyung, who also wants to poke his cheeks but retreats his hands when Baekhyun doesn't react.

“Am just an A-class whore," he rubs his neck. "With nowhere to belong. Not worth a dick or dime.”

His voice is hoarse. You kiss his shoulders where the rope wasn't too tense.

“No, you’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

“I—”

“You belong here,” you lay your palm flat on your lap. Then below your chest where the heart is, “here. And here.” You finally place Baekhyun’s little hand at your forehead. “You already know you’re in there all the time, fucker. I'm thinking of you.”

“Some days I...”

“Hush, no more. Off with you to get some sleep.”

"Are you satisfied, Noona?"

"More than words can say. Now, come."

Taehyung guides Baekhyun into the corridor by the hand, checking his own rope marks before covering up. They have half faded, but the ones at his hip remain prominent and still burn a bit too much. Taehyung mumbles something about "cream later" and stuffs his top into the hem of his trousers. Baekhyun says that there's some stuff in his bag to mend it, but Taehyung declines.

“Well look at your makeup,” he coos and wipes down Baekhyun’s cheeks as if he didn’t see him cry.

It’s mostly sweat, isn’t it.

“Hotel Room service got a job tomorrow,” Baekhyun fastens his belt.

“It would be a surprise if that’s even a thing here. I thought you looked around?” you twinkle at him.

“I only see you.”

Taehyung huffs at that with an eye roll, phone out to text Seokjin. He gets a fast reply. He does watch out for his darlings every way, doesn’t he. You’ve met him countless times, he always does your bookings, too. You're sure he'll take care of Baekhyun tonight so he can sleep well.

“You don’t go home?” Taehyung blinks at you.

“I’m staying overnight, it’s convenient. Namjoon arranged a meeting with the team in the city centre tomorrow, just a five-minute walk so I don’t have to commute.”

“At least don’t sleep close to one of these dusty moldy things, Noona,” Baekhyun mumbles.

He nods his head in the direction of the almost decomposing stereo where The Doors are still playing.

“Says my baby hypocrite who’s gonna chain-smoke two packs when he’s out the door.”

You kiss him on the nose. It’s tender.

“Three if I can,” he smiles.

“Ugh, just go and pull a Shakespeare,” Taehyung snorts. He takes his umbrella and shakes it dry. “He’d spew some better jizz without the cigs anyway. That's why your eggs are done for, too. Fucking passive smokers complaining.”

But Baekhyun already picks up the red bag. He’s got the little note with your name on it tucked in at the side. It’s still from the first time you came to him. He did his best to keep any crease out of it. Taehyung looks down realizing that neither of you will talk about it, closing his trench coat. You kiss his forehead and make a silent promise to yourself to invite him again sometime, in a better hotel than this one.

A less pretty messed up place.

Wet drops from the umbrella are the last thing lingering on the carpet when you hear their voices blur in the distance of the corridor. Baekhyun pops a pill before turning the key in at the reception by placing it on its little bronze hook between Room 30 and 32.

Taehyung says he’ll take the car to pick up some groceries at the other end of the main street, and going to Mr. Kim’s to stock up. In the dim light of the backyard, they say goodbye and Baekhyun fastens his leather jacket. He gets out his gloves climbing the motorcycle parked in the corner with a deep exhale. Everything hurts. His ass feels like it could fall apart any second just sitting. All the dirty makeup has come off entirely by now judging by the tired reflection of the side mirror. His lace top is sticky against his chest underneath the jacket already. It’s cold sweat dripping down to his abdomen. The hearts are truly bleeding now.

Epilogue: Osaka

All of the streets are empty like his mind. He’ll get fucked up with another bottle later while Taehyung appeases some late-night clients. Probably by charming the bouncer a bit more than usual and telling him that Baekhyun took a lot of pills. Which won't be a lie. Your next time is already scheduled. Until then, Baekhyun hopes nobody finds drugs in the wrong spot or they let minors in by chance and the press picks up on it. The place is just too corrupt to prevail for a long time either way. Maybe he can move in with you next year if he isn’t done for by then. Enjoy a July afternoon in Seoul downtown, an iced coffee, an evening on the terrace opposite Mr. Kim's where there's live music. Pay the bills because it’s romantic. Pay the taxes because it's what a good citizen does. Quit smoking, retire from the place and earn money elsewhere. Eat healthy and get a proper sample for the fridge. Prepare to be a good father if you’re lucky that time. Be less deadbeat and more alive. Forget about everything. Maybe one day you’ll have fucked him so much, you pretty much bought him whole and he’s free. No debt left, no memories. That's why he hates to eat, it puts him as far away from that state of mind as possible: An everlasting blank slate. The final solace that never really came.

Recently, he has been wondering if that time ever comes. He coughs up blood, he can’t sleep, his lungs are so tense when breathing. Only more smoking can ease the pain, right? He’s so stupid. A bright red Friday circle brightens up his calendar in three weeks, that’s good news. Around the hours when you plan coming home from work. You’ll be meeting in your flat for the first time. There will be coffee, not iced, but not any more bottles and power down every two hours. Seokjin agreed he can go there as long as he does what he’s supposed to do, and brings back the money he’s supposed to get. But three weeks are a long time. Those are many clients out the door with his dignity on the line, and how many missed meals just to have a waist more lithe, how many hours of being wide awake? He doesn’t care. Been there, done that.

It’s almost spring, which means you’ll travel back to Osaka together. Watch the cherry blossoms, visit the temples. Send Taehyung cute postcards the old-fashioned way even if the stamps are expensive. Kiss and pose for selfies because it’s a better life together. And never touch nicotine again before his insides fade to black. Blot and blur. Much like the road, the street lights. They're on the brink of day, but melting past his eyes like a spiraling void. Baekhyun's so cold, it's not just the lace top. Nothing feels meaningful anymore when he imagines the future, and he's content. There's nothing of importance in this moment except that. The road of life carries on whether he follows it or not. The street lights warp into a pulsating vortex, it's a heartbeat. Everything he likes about you passes before his eye. The way you carry yourself. How you put a little heart at the bottom of the note, and told him he's handsome. The habit you have, getting up at 5:30 am to send him a text if the shift was okay. How you smile and make everything a little better. Everything feels liberated when he thinks about it. It's a feeling taking over each and every limb, the sweetest anesthesia. Maybe you can be his blank slate. Close the vortex once and for all. He doesn't hit the breaks for the turn the alley ahead, he just falls. It doesn't matter. Baekhyun is sure about it, and that's the only bit of peace he can ever have. You would have been happy one day. So, so happy.

#taehyung smut #bts fanfic #baekhyun smut #exo fanfic #exo smut #sub!taehyung #sub!baekhyun #bts smut #baekhyun x reader #taehyung x reader

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nobloodneeded · 2 years

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The past couple days have been kind of hard. I’ve been thinking about my stepkid more. I’ve thought about him every day since the last time I saw him to varying degrees. The past two days have just been especially rough about it.

I think it’s why, aside from comics being my current fixation, I decided to reread Tomasi’s Batman and Robin run. Speedy had a few traits that reminded me of Damian. My ex and I would even joke about that sometimes. But while the comics themselves already make me emotional within their own self-contained contexts, being reminded of my stepkid on top of it made me way more emotional. There were a few scenes I cried over that, admittedly, were mainly from the story itself, but I would be lying if I said missing Speedy didn’t compound on top of that.

I also started replaying Red Dead the past week and just now got to the scene where Arthur takes little Jack on a fishing trip to bond with the kid. It’s a scene that really shows how the whole camp, related by blood or otherwise, looks to Jack like their own son and your player character takes him under his wing in a very traditionally paternal way. Hit too close to home right now and I teared up and had to pause the game for awhile.

I’ve just been thinking about how much I missed him. How I stayed in a decaying relationship just to continue to be with him. How I continued putting up with my ex’s worsening behaviors just to see him after we split. How it was all taken away anyway. How badly my ex traumatized me with his bids for control and ‘threats’ to the point where anytime my stepkid reached out to me, I couldn’t interact the way I naturally wanted to. How the last few times I ‘heard’ from him were plaintive texts of “Pop?”

I miss hugging him. I miss cuddling with him as we watched cartoons and anime. I miss running my hand over the back of his head and ruffling his hair, giving his neck a gentle squeeze. I miss reading him bedtime stories with voices. I miss making up our own choose-your-own-adventures. I miss playing guitar hero and singing in the car together. I miss him being in awe over Queen and Ozzy and the two of us laughing every time during Holy Diver when Dio asks, “Don’t you see what I mean?” after “You can see his stripes but you know he’s clean” and Speedy would go, “Uh, no???” I miss writing him punny cartoon notes in his lunchbox when he went to public school. I miss jump-scaring him as he would scream in delight. I miss all the art projects we used to do. In a few months, I’m going to miss making him birthday shirts with photos that captured special moments from the past year. I’m going to miss making relatively home-made halloween group-themed costumes for us. I miss taking random day trips to go on hikes or to beaches. Hell, I even miss his temper flare-ups because good or bad, it would mean I at least got to see him.

I miss being a dad and I doubt I’ll ever get to be one again. It’s an ache that reopened kind of out of nowhere and there’s nothing to do but wait for it to heal again with time.

#personal

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fanfic-from-a-67-impala · 6 years

Text

Just What I Needed

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean

Word count: 1521

Summary: You're a hunter who has crossed paths with the Winchesters a few times before, and you and Sam hook up sometimes. Really fun, totally casual – overall a healthy and mutually beneficial relationship. Based on The Cars – Just What I Needed (YouTube) (Spotify).

Warnings: A couple of implied smut moments; I don't know if it can be classified as fluff. It's just... cute. And fun.

A/N: This is the first oneshot I ever wrote and I've been waiting months to post it today. It’s Valentine's Day, so I'd like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that it's okay to be single, it's okay to love being single, it's okay to have friends with benefits, and it's okay to want a strictly sex-only relationship, as long as it's all legal and consensual. Thanks and enjoy!

You avoid eye contact with the lady at the front desk of the motel, who shoots a wary glance at the blood and ash caked under your fingernails. She doesn't question it, though, as she drops a key into your hand. You swing your bag over your shoulder and walk outside to your room, ready to collapse.

As you massage the prickling burn on your arm through your jacket, a car in the parking lot you were too tired to notice before catches your eye. A classic – well-taken care of, not a rust spot visible on the glossy black finish as it gleams in the moonlight.

Only after a pause do you realize why it seems so familiar.

Laughing to yourself, you knock on the door in front of it, the only room with its lights on.

"(Y/N)," the man says, his surprised smile reaching his green eyes. He ushers you in with a kiss on the cheek, placing the handgun he held behind the door on the table beside him.

"Thought I smelled Winchester," you smirk, scanning the otherwise empty room. "What are you doing in town?"

"Sammy and I just got here. Five people choked to death in the past two weeks. We're thinking witches," he says, popping off the top of a beer and handing the bottle to you.

You nod in thanks. "Well, you'd be right. They were witches."

"'Were'?" he questions.

"Aah," you sigh after taking a long, bubbly sip. "Burnt to a crisp."

He narrows his eyes. "You...?" An annoyed expression replaces the confusion on his face. "Of course you did."

"What can I say? I'm efficient," you chuckle, dropping your bag at your feet and leaning against the edge of the table.

He reaches behind you to grab a half empty beer, muttering something about a day's drive down the drain as he brings the bottle to his lips.

"If it makes you feel any better, it was pretty boring," you say. "Run-of-the-mill kitchen witches, crazy with a side of vengeance."

He gives you a short laugh, letting it melt into a distant gaze. "Remember when they were all that simple?"

"You mean before the first apocalypse or the second?" you joke.

The two of you catch up, swapping stories and reliving days past, until a final lull in the conversation signals a good stopping point. You tilt your head up and swallow the last swig of beer in your bottle.

"Well, I'm calling it a night," you say, rising from your seat. "Thanks for the drink."

"Whoa, early night. Someone's getting old," he teases.

"Three witches, man," you remind him.

"You don't want to stick around and say hey to Sam? He's picking up some grub across the street, should be back any minute. You two always seem to, uh, hit it off," he raises his eyebrows, flashing you a suggestive grin.

You blush as images of long brown hair tangling with yours flash before your eyes, the feeling of muscle and bare skin under your palms.

"Right, a day of pointless driving and research, the end of the world looming overhead, then a one-night stand," you muse. "That's just what he needs."

"But it'd be a five- or six-night stand by now, wouldn't it?" he says, still smiling.

You roll your eyes, unable to give him an exact number if you wanted to.

Dean shrugs away his grin, replacing it with genuine concern. "All I'm saying, everybody's gotta blow off some steam, and you know he ain't a 'random chick in a bar' kinda guy."

"That's what hookers are for," you note, though you acknowledge his sincerity. Your hand lingers over the doorknob. "I'm in room five. Tell him to come find me if he wants."

Dean winks at you, and you step into the brisk nighttime air toward your room.

Before midnight rolls around, a soft rapping knock echoes through the quiet room. You look up from your computer screen to the door and slide out of bed, slipping the knife from the nightstand into your hand and replacing it with your laptop.

Your heart races as you pad across the floor, grateful for the rough carpet muffling your footsteps. Gripping the handle of the blade, you crack open the door.

It reveals a tall, moonlit figure, wearing a shy smile and a thin t-shirt, despite the chill in the air. You open the door wider, a smile creeping onto your own lips.

"Hey, you," you greet.

He steps inside and glances around the darkened room before turning back to you, eyes wide with regret. "You were sleeping," he says, apologetically.

"Don't worry about it. I was researching," you say, closing the door and nodding to the bed. "I, uh, didn't think I'd see you tonight. Figured you'd be busy."

"You mean, looking for a new case?" he gives you a pointed look.

"Dean told you about that, did he?" you laugh, setting the knife back onto the nightstand and taking a seat beside him.

"Says you full-on Salem'd them," he says. "Thanks for that, by the way. Dean would never admit it, but we've got a losing streak when it comes to witches."

You fixate on your lap. "Nah, you could've taken these guys."

A lock of your hair falls to cover your face from him as you look down, but you raise your eyes as he lifts a finger to pull the hair back, a wordless question of whether or not to continue as his hand lingers near the back of your neck. "Really, thank you," he murmurs.

"No problem," you whisper, craning your neck to meet his lips with yours.

He entangles a hand in your hair as you move to close the space between you, pulling away from the kiss only to ask, "Sure you want to waste your time with me tonight?"

He smiles, and you feel his breath on your lips in a soft laugh. "I don't mind if you don't."

You lean in again, this kiss deeper and stronger than the last, while you find the hems of each other's shirts.

It ends with your heavy breaths in time with his as you fall to the side, pulling apart.

"I think," you say between gasps, "that was our best work yet."

"The first time or the second?" he pants.

You breathe out a laugh before letting silence fall, save the slowing inhales and exhales, reveling in the sweaty, shaky feeling and tangled hair and the warmth of a body next to yours. Sam plays with your hair, running the strands through his fingers in short, absentminded strokes.

You watch the moon travel across the night sky, an indistinct body of light, blurred by the thin curtains as it crosses the window. The moonlight silhouettes him as he slips out of the twisted sheets and reaches for the bundle of clothes at the foot of the bed. You let your eyes travel over his deft hands as they move to pull on his clothes, his shirt clinging to his skin with sweat.

"Catch you in the morning," he whispers.

"Yeah," you nod, waiting until the door closes behind him to find your own clothes in the dark and slide the fabric over your skin.

You have decided on sleeping and finding a case in the morning when Sam slinks through the door again, leaning back against it after he closes it, eyes wide. Your fingers trace the hilt of your knife again, your body tensing.

"What's wrong?" you hiss across the room.

"We, uh, weren't the only lucky ones tonight," he says.

You let your shoulders drop, sighing. "Dean?" you say, placing your blade back on the nightstand.

He nods, and you shrug your shoulders. "Good for him."

Sam's traumatized eyes fade into a giggle to match yours. "Mind if I hang out here for the night?"

You crawl under the covers before pulling them back behind you. "Get in here, Sam."

He lets his jeans fall at the foot of the bed with his shoes and slips into the bed once again, letting his arm settle in the hollow above your hip. As he works his fingers through strands of your hair, you trace patterns on his shoulder, grateful for the company and the warmth.

You wake to movement beside you, a shift in the bed, a loss of heat. Then, the sound of fabric against skin, a zipper closing.

"Morning," you moan before opening your eyes against the early morning sunlight seeping through the curtains.

"Hey," he says, matching your smile and the sleep in your eyes. "How'd you sleep?"

"Mm, fine. How about you?" you mumble, stretching.

"Not too bad." He pulls on his t-shirt. "Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

"Really?" you yawn. "Sorry."

He runs his hands across his hair and leans down to kiss you on the forehead. "I don't mind. See you in a bit."

"Thanks for coming over," you call as he reaches the door.

"Thanks for letting me," he says. "I think it was just what I needed."

Happy Valentine’s day, everyone!

#Supernatural #Supernatural x reader #Spn x reader #Spn #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester x reader #Sam x reader #oneshot #writing is hard

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