#I had to do three takes on this since the recorder kept skipping

[4pfsukuna]

B.A.S G. Suguru

Debrief: heavily inspired by Megan thee stallions new song B.A.S. Warning: Smut like turn your screen brightness down and read in private. Geto suguru is his own warning

part 1 can be read here but not necessary to read it’s just Gojo smut🙃

Suguru Geto was a very jealous man, although he kept a calm exterior inside he was a storm of brewing emotions.

You had been friends with both him and Satoru since 6th grade enjoying having two bodyguards…and jesters.While the three of you jokingly flirted with another the boundary was set when it came to any of you being in relationships even if Suguru never stayed with a girl longer than a few months, he blamed it on getting the ick and sometimes you dont know whos sassier him or Gojo.

“Ah so you were kidnapped by snow white” you hear before you catch a glance of his dark hair going into the fridge rummaging around as if he owned it. The two of you had made such a habit of going through satorus things and taking it, honestly it was a surprise he even let you back in. You sat infront of Gojos laptop checking emails and things for your job since you’d gotten so comfortable and he practically forced you to stay. Not that you minded he had fast WiFi good snacks and his bed felt like those luxury hotel rooms.

“I'm assuming that's why you bluffed our trip to the museum” he smirks over his shoulder, covering his pure jealousy, watching your face fall. Stopping your chewing you reach for your phone seeing the missed calls and text from him covered on your lock screen of you him and satoru with your matching koi fish tattoos behind your ear. 

“Sorry my glorious—“ you begin but he scoffs.

“I am not satoru, you can't sweet talk me!” He rolls his eyes taking a bite out of a cake pop left in the fridge. He doesn't seem to be bothered by it but you know better.

The previously mentioned man walks in shirtless black sweats hanging low on his hips revealing the designer logo on his boxer briefs. There's a certain pep in his step and arrogance about the way his sweats hang that Suguru absolutely does NOT miss.

“You're just jealous she spent the weekend with me and not at some boring ass museum” he smirks, bumping shoulders with Suguru who shoves him back with a pointed look. And he knows that glow on satoru, knows that you two fucked he doesnt know you two recorded it but even though he had a new girlfriend this week you two fucking gave him the absolute ick.

For her.

“It was a day and a half and i promise we can go to the museum after i finish this portfolio for my client” you correct Gojo and send a soft smile to Geto who smirks at the pouting snow haired man.

“No i don't want to share you, besides don't you have a girlfriend to bother and take on dates” Gojos sharp tongue jabs at his friend as he walks over to the fridge and he knew exactly what he was doing Getos got a sharper tongue though when he's jealous.

“Actually i do she wants to go on a double date tonight so get dressed” he tells him a challenging look in his eye and the tension in the room grows thick. he's challenging to see if either of you will speak up on what happened and he doesn't miss the way you two avoid eye contact his smirk growing wider.

Gojo catches it though. 

“Mmm no thanks, I'm getting my dick wet tonight” He shrugs knowing whatever upper hand suguru thought he had… he didn't. He can't help the way his heart skips a beat when he catches your smile confirmation for round 7…8?

“Why not two in one night, youre never one to turn down a sexscapade” and he's quick, so quick that it gives you both whiplash as he toys with you now pulling a random piece of lint off your shorts… a pair of Gojos boxers which makes his brow twitch in frustration. You had on his shirt, boxers and socks…you fucking smelled like him.

There was nothing he could say to Gojo so he turned his metaphorical dagger on you.

“Isn't that right sweetheart? Don't you just love listening to your favorite fuckboys sex stories” and he had the audacity to try and GOAD you. Knowing how incredibly possessive your ass was and poison is dripping from his lips at “your favorite fuckboy”. Oh he knew it's definitely known between the 3 of you that he knew. The room gets hotter and before Gojo could say anything they're both reminded why you fit so perfectly into the trio.

“If you think I spent the whole weekend with this blue eyed glow stick and he didn't spew complete filth into my ear the whole time— don't humor me” and it's a triple threat. The nickname, double entendre and you poke back. Both of their heads are spinning at the way you say it without even so much as glancing up from your laptop screen.

Yeah you heard about his sex stories satoru couldn't hold water if you gave him a bucket and strapped it to his chest but now that you've had it there was a tinge of possessiveness you now claimed over him.

It's a tense silence only being broken by Satorus phone ringing letting you know the uber eats driver is down stairs.

“I'll be back, don't miss me too much” Gojo humms arrogantly, fingers running over your shoulders before bumping suguru on his way out. 

You barely wait for satoru to close the door before you start speaking knowing Suguru would try to take control of the conversation.

“Jealousy isnt a good look on you—“ you smirk and he cuts you off, grabbing your chin.

“Are you FUCKING him?” He asks, a deadpan look on his face, his cologne enveloping your senses with a slight hint of japanese cherry blossom making you glare at him.

“Not you in MY business” you roll your eyes pulling your chin from his hand. The fucking audacity.

“Princess” he goads with that nickname glimpses of when satoru moaned it in your ear flash back “Are YOU fucking him?” He enunciates and you hated to be questioned it didn't matter who he was to you.

“Smelling like another woman and questioning ME is crazy” you scoff as he stands in between your legs eyeing you with a slight eye roll.

 “You aint shit” and something about that sets him off, his eyes getting darker as if you didn’t smell like Satoru.

“Oh! Are you jealous?” He steps closer leaning toward your face, eyes flickering toward your lips as he licks his. “Does Satoru know how many times we’ve kissed?” He asks you, hands setting on your thighs with a slight squeeze.

Sure you’ve shared a few drunk kisses with Suguru and maybe a couple of sober ones too but he was a good kisser and you liked kissing when drunk. Why kiss a random stranger when HE was there. Plus you had to test to see if he was that good sober… for research purposes.

Licking your teeth you watch as his smirk returns and you’d do anything to wipe it off, taking his thick neck and wrapping as much as your green acrylic covered fingers around his neck as possible. You smile when he melts into it, eyes focused on your thick pink lips.

“Yeah… guess we both AINT SHIT” and as if he’s psychic he pulls back just in time for Satoru to walk in with bags of food. 

“Guess who got extra food for being shirtless and the delivery guy thinking i was a God” he whoops, setting it on the marble island top  in front of the two of you, you  and suguru sharing a look before laughing. He was sooo…. Himself. 

You engage in mindless chatter opening up the white carry out boxes of food unaware of the looks the duo keeps giving you before Suguru notices there's only two platters of sticky rice he slides one to you and keeps the other for himself quickly using a set of chopsticks to gather a large amount.

Before he could even lift it to his mouth satoru lurches forward taking it in his mouth letting his tongue twirl around the tips of the sticks before pulling back and chewing with a vicious smile on his face.

“GOJO!” He snaps bewildered and the tips of his ears being red lost on the two of you due to his long hair covering it.

“That's for my cake pop” he retaliates sitting back on the stool and you giggle taking a bite of your own rice.

“Satoru, I don't know where your mouth has been.” Suguru says in fake disgust although he goes to eat off the same chopsticks.

“My mouths been places you wish yours was” and the tensions back this time it's playful as the two begin play fighting.

Getting caught up with work you hardly have time to spend with either of them except for a few texts here and there Suguru is relentless in the thirst traps he sends you— laying in bed with audio of his morning voice, shirtless gym selfies even after shower selfies with his towel hanging dangerously low.

 You entertain his game by sending him a photo of you arching in the mirror spine tattoo illuminated by the red mood lights and a black thong and ask ‘do you think this is good enough to send to my hoes’ and he chuckles at your little cat and mouse game. You're conniving, bratty and know how to work his nerve. He doesn't care who you send it to because he saw it first.

Ge-hoe {whats the plans for today, sweetheart} 

You know that's his subtle way of seeing if you wanted to hang out but you were out on a date and it wasnt with satoru either. You debate responding to the text when your phone buzzes again.

Ge-hoe {and Satoru already blabbed that you two went to breakfast today and he was drunk of mimosas so i know that idiot doesn't have your attention for the rest of the night}

You {just enjoying some me time, you?} 

Ge-hoe {Same.}

You had actually been out on a date, makeup done, fresh nail set, new hair style and a brand new outfit to an arcade date followed by a small cafe. You weren't complaining, it was something casual and fun without too much pressure.

You're sitting on the basketball game watching as he misses every jump shot, the two of you laughing about it until you feel someone brush up against your arm. Ready to snarl about personal space until their cologne hits your nose and you instantly know who it is. Dior sauvage with a hint of coconut conditioner.

Ge-hoe {Pleasure seeing you here princess.}

You {likewise}

And when you hear the high pitched voice of another woman you can't help but glance, she was cute you'll give her that— but not his type. You like her style and just as you're ready to compliment her she muggs you sending you the nastiest glare which your smile grows at. You weren't entertaining her when you had matching tattoos with this man. Not enough of a threat when he's lying about spending time with her. But you were lying too.

Lying to me and im lying to him guess we both aint shit

Ge-whore { you look so pretty propped up there}

8 more messages come through and you nearly block him as he lays his compliments on thick. 

The last one catches your attention though.

Ge-whore{can you condition my hair tonight, you know i love when you scratch my head with fresh nails} 

You {youre so annoying} 

You {i want food}

Blueeyedking to group chat {i know you two didn't go to the arcade without me!}

When Suguru pulls up to your semi spacious loft (apartment) donned in a tight fitted compression shirt, gray sweats and sneakers two bags in hand you know he's serious. There's a lot of things he played about but his hair wasn't one so when he sees your extravagant hair care routine he knows he can trust you.

You turn into a certified yapper talking about work taking pride in it as you lather his scalp with conditioner and when his eyes close you know he's thoroughly enjoying it.

“And your date?” He ask now moving to lay his head in your lap as you use your diffuser on his hair claiming something about heat damage but you know he just likes the feeling of your fingers in his hair. You shrug looking over at your calendar.

“What are you wearing to your boyfriends party on saturday” and he opens his eyes to send you a glare knowing you were talking about gojo and you send him a coy smile. Heavy arm dropping down to your calf he begins massaging it pressing a thumb heavily into a specific spot that causes you to let out a strangled sound.

“Ngghh- Suguru! S-stop” you tug on a lock of hair which doesn't phase him. Suguru was no idiot he knew exacctly where every pleasure point on the body was and would sometimes fuck with you and Gojo at the worst times.

“Sounds so pretty saying my name” and this time his fingers brush your knee making you squirm so focused on his hair you don't notice the oversized shirt has been rising this whole time and it now rests on your hips giving him a perfect view of your red lace underwear.

“You wore this for your lil date?” He asks, hooking a finger in the band and snapping it against your skin.

“I wore it for myself cause i look hot as fuck dont piss me off” you pop his finger but that doesnt stop him as he plays with the lace hem the tension rising as you try to focus on his hair.

“Suguru stop fucking playing” you hiss pulling half his hair up into a bun to section off the finished part and he takes that as a challenge.

“I never play with my food” and he leaves a kiss on top of your mound over the lace listening to the way your breath hitches. He flips the both of you in one movement so his back is laying on the couch and you're straddling his mouth.

His tongue is licking a long stripe through your underwear that you feel on your slit making you let out a stifled moan. 

Satoru was an idiot.

Satoru was a big fucking idiot.

There was no way satoru tasted you and let you walk out. Hes licking at your folds feverishly before his tongue swirls around your clit. 

“S- suguru” you moan softly and that triggers an insatiable side of him. He locks an arm around your thigh so you can't move before sucking your clit into his mouth with more intensity.

The moans are spilling out the same way your wetness is your body instantly so responsive as he flickers a tongue through your folds. Thrusting a tongue up into you twisting and curling your hips buck at the intrusion earning a groan.

He uses his free hand to slowly push a thick middle finger in your core curling it pulling the sluttiest moan from you. watching your head lul back and back arch he's committing everything to memory, every moan and gasp when he curls or flexes a finger, the way your brows furrow and nose scrunches cutely when he sucks on your clit but most importantly the way you’re hips buck when he pushes his tongue harder against your clit.

Your moans begin to get higher and thighs start to tighten around his head and damn is he so contempt you both miss the vibrations of his phone on your coffee table nearing the edge…just like you.

He can't help but to snake one of his own hands down to his aching dick that's so painfully hard he bucks into his hand the minute he gets a grip on it.

He moans out the vibration traveling up your whole body as one hand grips the armrest of the couch and he nearly loses it when you start to babble.

“Fuck fuck nnggh fuck sug…suguru i—“ you whine hips bucking against his face and fuck hes losing his mind at the way your hand comes down to hold his face in place.

“Talk to me sweetheart” his muffled words come out and you feel the orgasm ready to rip through you watching his hooded eyes look up at you.

It's when you notice he's jerking off from pleasuring you that you can no longer hold back the orgasm and release down his face juices falling in his chin, down his neck even falling to his shirt.

He doesn't stop eating though, oh no his mouth latches on adding a second finger in listening to the squelching sounds he's pulling from you and the way you keep moaning his name like a prayer. His mouth starts making smacking sounds as he pushes you more into his mouth.

“F-feels so good! Im gunna—Suguru please please please” you whine and you never had to beg but fuck do you sound so pretty when you do and the way your tone gets higher, voice gets needier and pussy gets so much wetter. He moves his fingers faster,  mouth faster and his grip faster on himself matching the way your hips move on his lips.

“J-just like tha—nghh” You cum extremely fast this time your whole body shaking  and his hips stutter ropes of white cum shooting from his tip all over his pants as he lets you come down from your high noticing your body swaying as your breathing gets extremely heavy. 

Chuckling he sits up pushing your hips down to his lap as he rubs your back and thighs before placing a sloppy kiss on your lips. He wanted nothing more than to let you keep cuming on his face but if he didnt get up he was going to lose his mind and take everything you had to give and then some. Hed never make it to actually fucking you.

“So you done fucking with that loser from earlier?” He asks in your ear trailing kisses down your neck listening to the way you pant for him soaking up his whole lap nails digging into his broad shoulders. His phone rings on the coffee table a contact photo of the girl from the arcade and you peel yourself off of him wiping your essence off his lips.

“Quit asking when imma leave my niggas knowing you still with your bitch” and he pulls you back by your thighs massaging them over his lap pushing his hair out of his face long locs cascading over his broad shoulders covered in his now soaked shirt. He pays little attention to what you were saying knowing he'd be single by tonight.

You don't speak to either of them much until Gojo’s party taking your time getting ready, only waltzing in once the party is in full swing.

Its only a minute in before Getos by your side pulling you in for a hug a smooth “hey sweetheart” chuckled in your ear as he holds out his drink for you never moving his arm from off of you. Gojo isn't too far behind pulling you away from the dark haired man taking you in an embrace of his own.

“Princess you finally made it” he yells kissing the top of your head with 3 shots in his opposite hand. You scrunch your nose as you take the shot and push the empty glass back towards him.

“Free alcohol and a chance to dress up and look pretty as fuck? Of course” you finish the drink Suguru had given you,  eyes landing on Shoko and Maki who waves you over.

“Ditching us already?” Suguru purrs an unashamed glint in his eye. He licks his lips and the way your eyes flicker and watch momentarily let him know the two of you are thinking about the same thing.

“Yeah you’ve been ignoring us the past few weeks. I can't remember the last time you called me your blue eyed king” Satoru pouts crossing his arms over his chest.

“What can i say…I’m a hot commodity” you wink before going over to the couch where the girls are, your heels sinking slightly in the rug as you walk.

“I'm surprised you could get away from your boyfriends” maki smirks over her red solo cup and you roll your eyes taking her cup downing all the contents, the cognac sliding down your throat smoothly. 

“Not my boyfriends” you fake gag giving her back the empty cup making her scowl at you.

“Please Suguru hasn’t stopped staring at you like he wants to eat you since you walked in, and Satoru… Satoru has that arrogant smirk” Shoko speaks, lighting her cigarette knowing it would piss off the latter.

“Have you seen how good my ass looks in this dress, and satoru always has that arrogant smirk. Besides we’re a trio” you smile coyly you could feel the heat of sugurus eyes burning into your back. They both send disbelieving looks not even wanting to get into your relationship with the two before pouring more shots enjoying the music and chatter.

It's when the alcohol begins tasting like water that you know it’s beyond time to slow down on drinking especially when you begin…feeling absolutely feral.Truthfully you were not…okay. At all. Geto must have some magic tongue because the way every time you blinked you could picture the view of him under you. Could feel his mouth on you. You nearly came to the thought of this man.

How did you feel like you were missing out when you were the one that let him taste test the goodies. 

“You alright?” Maki asked after you release a small hiccup relaxing further into the cushion. Watching as Suguru and an older dark haired man with a scar on his lip has what looks to be a muscle off. 

He's glaring at suguru with a look of disgust that borders “ill kill you” while sugurus look of disgust is “bitch please your filthy hands couldn't even touch me. They exchange a few words before settling into arm wrestling positions and you smile Sugurus definitely been drinking to partake in something so… beneath him.

“Yeah I just need some air” you tell them standing up and walking to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water seeing Satoru already in there cracking open another bottle of alcohol.

“You okay, princess?” He ask genuinely and your nod holding the bottle of water towards him so he can open it he complies, loosening it lightly before handing it back to you. You waste no time guzzling it nearly choking as you laugh at him goofily singing along to the song earning a smile. 

He sets the bottles down,wrapping you up in his arms, versace cologne strong but not overbearing as he rocks you two gently, unaware of the looks you were getting.

“I miss you, we haven’t hung out in weeks. Do you think I’m ugly or something?” he gasped dramatically, making you laugh as you used his belt loops to keep you steady.

“Ohhhh thee Gojo Satoru” you begin to tease knowing that as much as an arrogant bastard you’re friend was he called your friendship and quality time aka he was a softy that loved validation, a brat.

He leans into your teasing pushing his face into your neck before you feel his sharp teeth graze your neck.

“S-satoru” you gasp shocked and you go to laugh but he beats you to it.

“Never let them know your next move. That’s what you get for ditching me” he pokes your chin and you feel an energy shift. Both of you looking to the right you see Suguru approaching, his eyes focused on Satorus arms around you.

Geto suguru is a jealous man and the thought of someone else having you in the way he wanted pissed him off.

When he’s close enough he leans against the table Satoru has you pinned against staring strictly at the other man.

“The people are waiting for alcohol, especially old scar lip. How'd you even know him?” He ask, taking a shot from the bottle. Satoru only groans, grabbing another bottle quick to walk out.

“You must taste good to have my best friend openly licking you in public” he points daggers at you and if so bitchy at that, he’s not angry. He's good at hiding his jealousy behind a teasing facade but you knew better drunk or not.

“Oh don't tell me you've forgotten Suguru.” you milk his ego slightly reminding him of a few nights ago with a purr and an adorable head tilt batting your eyelashes up at him. It's when you take your bottom lip between your teeth that he's reminded of the faces you were making as you rode his face until you came. While Gojo likes outright straight up flattery Geto prefers the mind games getting off on the mental stimulation. In other words he likes to be talked out his boxers.

“Of course not sweetheart,” he chuckles warmly, using the band on his arm to tie half of his hair up brushing the rest off his broad shoulders. “The offer is always on the table”.

Standing up on your tiptoes and using his muscular bicep as leverage secretly feeling him up you match his smirk pulling the band from his hair.

“I actually like your hair better down it would look so hot in missionary like that” you say innocently pulling his hair back over his shoulders and like a charm… he was talked out his boxers.

The minute the door is closed behind the two of you your hands are pulling him down by the front of his shirt lips on his and he's moaning into your mouth.

He's pushing you back on the bed behind your lips never leaving yours as he straddles your hips one hand propping him up the other holding your head in place.

“You’ve been giving me those fuck me eyes all night” he breathes kissing down your neck directly over where Satoru jokingly bit you making sure to suck a mark of his own on your neck. Pulling your dress down there's a slight shredding sound before he's completely ripping off your dress.

“S-Suguru!” You stutter pulling away and he just lets out a slight hum taking in your bare body.

“What? It's not like it was covering much anyways i'll take mine off too” he pulls his black sports jersey off revealing a perfectly sculpted body and you are momentarily distracted running a hand from his happy trail up his abs to his chest.

“We do have to leave this room eventually,” you begin tilting your head with a pointed look which he shrugs at.

“Won't be anytime soon” he chuckles amused at you even assuming you would. Your hand trails back down to his belt yanking him forward your lips meeting again his hair acting as a curtain shielding the two of you. 

His tongue dances down your chest until his mouth reaches a nipple, his fingers sneaking inside your waistband brushing against your slick clit.

“Oh sweetheart”he grins like a Cheshire cat enjoying the way you arch into him and soak his fingers up. He watches you throw your head back,whines coming out as he circles his middle finger around your clit. Arching up into him to get more pressure he chuckles his finger sliding between your folds and into your core.

“Soaked soo fucking soaked” he heaves adding a second finger grinning when you push your hips down twisting. Giving you exactly what you want he starts thrusting them faster, feeling you clench.

“Suguru” you moan, clutching onto him your soft pants increasing more and more until he makes a particular curl of his fingers against your g spot that makes your eyes cross.

“G-gunna…Sug—“ your body begins twitching as the pressure builds so intensely from his fingers and he only chuckles, pulling his fingers away, making you gasp at the sudden loss.

“Suguru PLEASE” you beg gripping onto him so tightly and it’s exactly what he wanted you under him his jealousy twisting into his need to have you a begging  mess under him.

It satisfied a sick part of him, itching a certain scratch that inflates his ego. So while people were lusting after you, you were writhing and begging under him.

Stroking his thick length you hiss when he slowly starts pushing in feeling the burn of how thick he is youre ready to wrap your legs around him to take some form of control but he grips your thigh pushing it to your chest. 

He leans forward as he bottoms out groaning feeling the way your tight pussy sucks him in and grips his fucking soul.

“Fuck… FUCK” he grunts feelings his pelvis touch your mound and he needs a second or hes going to burst until he hears you let out a soft exhale that sounds strangled and his eyes meet your wide ones. You had never felt so full before, never had your legs forced open because someone was so thick, you could actually feel him in your stomach.

You could fall apart just like this. Everything about this moment was more than sexually satisfying his scent, his touch, his hair dangling down over you the way his dick spread you open but isn't painful. You begin to wonder how many kids he wants and can instantly picture him as a girl dad.

Fuck kids, you needed to be able to fuck this man for breakfast lunch dinner and a midnight snack. Until the walls had no paint, until he couldn't tell left from right, until your throat was sore and his hips hurt. Until your knuckles hurt from clenching the sheet so tight and his bottom lip bruised from biting it so hard.

“Y/n, you okay?” And him calling you by your actual name brings you back down to him bringing your mind from the spiral he sent you into, damn how long was i daydreaming.

“Baby?” He ask sliding out slighty and the sloshing sound makes you look at him grabbing his face to pull his lips to yours. Oh he was so fucked. YOU were fucked. Sliding back in, your hands, find your way to his hair tugging lightly when he snaps his hips. You couldn't find words so the kiss would have to suffice.

“Oh fuck” you whine in his mouth and that’s all it takes before he’s creating a steady pace of strokes  grunting when you clench around him any thought of… anything was lost. The only thing he could focus on was how tight and hot you were around him and how perfectly you were taking him. Part of the reason why he switched women so much was because they always had a hard time taking him and while yes he may look every bit of a sex God some things just aren't enjoyable. Oh, but you? If heaven was real this was it and he could die happily between your legs.

“That's right baby youre doing so good” his voice rasp gently, nearly being drowned out by the loud music of the party. Getting wetter at the sound of praise he takes note kissing your leg that's bent by your face.

“So good at taking me” he grunts in your ear, biting on it easily, pushing you into your first orgasm from just talking and he looks too satisfied to be done any time soon. The way your nose scrunched cutely and you clenched tighter before the warm gush pushed all over his dick oh he needed so many more. How were you so pretty and perfect at everything you did?

Finally relaxing slightly he nearly lets out a strangled moan when you tighten your legs around his hips and flip him over. It happens so fast one minute he feels like he has the upper hand and the next he's at your mercy. There's a feral look in your eyes, you look like you absolutely want to ravage him and as dominant as he is the thought of you taking charge makes him twitch inside of you.

Raising your hips slightly and propping yourself up using his abs as balance you slowly inch back down so painfully slow squeezing as you do and he lets out a broken groan. Inching back up against the headboard to give you a hand he almost regrets it  the way your hips twist and grind into him so deliciously. His grip on the headboard tightens the wood creaking slightly.

The way he bites his lips and gives you such a loud moan fuels you as you repeat the action, hips moving faster as you raise and drop releasing moans of your own as his dick hits that perfect spot inside of you every time.

You slither a hand up to his neck watching his eyes widen the wicked smirk on your face growing the widest its ever been. Its when you squeeze that his hips buck involuntarily up into you but being the rider you are you let the movement adjust you on your tiptoes picking up speed a bit more.

So when he lets out a broken moan that almost sounds like a whine he starts scrambling to get some sort of control over the situation. Using his thumb he presses against your clit rubbing circles to stimulate you more listening to the sounds the two of you are making.

“Fuck baby s-slow down” he moans but the way hes watching himself dissapear fully inside of you is letting you know hes enjoying this to much for you to slow down. Squeezing his neck a tad bit more and tilting his head up so you're making eye contact the smile on your face never leaves.

“I cant keep— ngghh, feel so good Suguru” you purr and even though you look fully incontrol you never fully recovered from that first orgasm you were actually still brain scrambled but you were still taking him— riding him and using him to your advantage so well. 

“Suguru” you whine eyes rolling back and that's his undoing oh but he's not done yet, you decide. The feeling of his hot cum bursting inside of you satisfies a sick part of you knowing you could reduce him to… this. You had to see it again but this time you had to watch his face.

“If you… if you can tell me what i'm spelling” you start leaving a peck on his lips “i'll let you cum again” and he's confused as hell but likes the sound of it. Shit you could probably ask him for his credit card number and he’d sing it.

Twisting your hips in a certain direction you smile when he says the first letter of your name.

“Good, how about this one” and you twist again with a thrust moving his hand to play with your clit yourself watching his eyes zero in on you.

He stutters out the second letter of your name but quickly clears his throat. You smirk repeating through all the letter of your name watching how wrecked hes becoming the closer you get to the end of your name and hes melting at the thought. You spelling your name out on his dick taking your ownership he wanted to lay you on your back and go feral but that would mean he'd have to give this up and for a jealous and possessive man he loved being claimed.

Its when you get to the last letter that you reach behind you grabbing his balls and squeezing as you twist the last letter on his dick and he bursts for the second time and never has he cum this fast back to back… you could definitely ask for his credit card number and have it. Credit card number, his house key… fuck it his soul anything you wanted was yours he swore it.

He realizes quickly that you making him cum wasn't for his satisfaction… it was for yours you were having fun milking him for every drop taking taking taking until nothing was left. In fact looking for more ways to make him cum. He gets a moment of relief when you climb off of him. He was entirely too sensitive and any second longer he was sure he wouldn't be able to feel his dick— in the best possible way.

Hes heavily panting, still closing his eyes trying to get his shit together when the next sensation has his eyes shooting open.

Your tongue teases his sensitive tip and he nearly thrashes in your hand but the lack of energy has him only let out pathetic whines that nearly sounds like whimpers. Oh the joys of breaking a man! Watching your thick gloss covered lips spread around his thick girth was a sight he’d commit to memory and never forget. Twisting both of your hands down and around his length you let your mouth follow licking up your combined mess hollowing out your cheeks with a particular suck that makes his stomach squeeze.

“Fuck baby” he groans ready to tangle his hands in your hair but settling for running it down your spine tattoo over and over. He knew better than to touch your hair. Its when you let half fall out of your mouth, spitting it back into his dick, licking it back up and swallowing before swirling your tongue around the tip is when he starts to plot the murder of everyone you’ve been with prior.

He listened to the way you gag when you take him as far back t in your throat as you can, the sound of you sitting and licking it back up, the slurping the gawk and the gulk before he finds himself getting too overstimulated. But there's a soft wet sound that he knows isn’t coming from him so he follows it between your legs watching your slick covered skinny brown fingers rub maniacally at your clit oh his little freak indeed. 

Your mouth travels down his shaft before sucking his balls into your mouth and he throws his head back, hips bucking up unable to stop himself from grabbing your hair this time as your thumb presses into the slit on his tip.

“Come here” he rasp out, finally coming to his senses slightly right before coming again pushing you on your stomach.

“Sug—npphhh” and your muffled by the pillow as he pushes his dick back in the squelching sound only fueling him as he slides in. He pulls all the way back to the tip placing a hand on your upper back to push you deeper into an arch before snapping his hips back in all the way.

“Fuck Sug!” You borderline yell arm reaching back to grab onto something and he chuckles repeating the motion over and over using your hips as leverage. He slams you down onto his dick right where he knows your g spot is watching as you try to run arch falling completely. 

“Whats the matter baby?” He antagonizes wrapping a hand around your hips to find your clit terrorizing the bundle of nerves until your legs are quivering and lip trembling.

Leaning forward he brushes your hair out of your face taking a moment to just observe how fucking pretty you are like this. His pretty baby, with a face like this you could call him at any time and he’d come running.

“Close… im s’close” your legs begin thrashing even wilder as you clench his sensitive tip leaking ready to fill you up with another load. The way your acrylic fingers grips the sheets as you fall into your  arch even more was such a sight. Party be damned, Satoru be damned and exes be damned. Suguru felt so head high the electricity brewing between the two of you as you both fought off your peaks to elongate the sex as long as possible.

“Oh yeah, sweetheart?” He ask rubbing your clit faster picking up his speed releasing loud obscene groans in your ear and it’s when his thrust start becoming sloppy that you know he's just as close as you are and that’s enough to muster up the tiniest bit of energy to throw your ass back and match his rhythm.

“Cum with me sweetheart” and he begins counting down from 5 knowing he wasn’t lasting 10 seconds at all nor did he even remember all the numbers at a time like this.

“3…2..” he breathes roughly in your ear and your eyes roll back in your head the both of you releasing at the same time before he could even reach 1 the intensity too much and he collapses onto you his fingers still rubbing you through the orgasm until the two of you are reduced to nothing but sweaty heaving bodies.

It’s a comfortable silence even when he moves off of you and pulls you to lay on his chest…and out of the wet spot.

“So messy” he teases, brushing your hair down with his hand, ignoring the way he has strands sticking to his own forehead.

“It’s your fault.. you made me that wet” you grin trailing your fingers over his abs loving the way he convulses slightly.  You're so ready to sink into the soft sheets and warmth he provides until a distinct buzzing grabs your attention, pulling your vibrating phone from the floor seeing you had about 10 text messages from Gojo 2 from Shoko and one from Maki. 

Suguru uses the time to check his own messages seeing he has quite a few missed messages himself though all from the same person.

His ex girlfriend that he broke up with the other night through text directly after leaving you.

Gojo had been looking for you and all you could tell him was that you stepped out for sure ignoring that you’d have to face reality at some point.

“I could go for another round”

“Fuck it, Guess we both aint shit”

tag list(and my very first🥹) @gardenof-venus

[lucyandthepen]

last eden - ii . | lmh

part i, ii, iii

only one thing has ever mattered to you, in this lifetime, and in all others : mark lee — even if he doesn't know yet, and even if he may never remember.

pairing: mark x reader verse: canon/idol!verse, soulmates trope rating: T warnings: none, i think! word count: 9k

A/N: i have not properly proofread this as i finished kinda editing at like 2am in what felt like a fever dream so if you see any mistakes, shoot me a quick message!

Going home is a traumatic experience, to say the least. You don’t actually get to leave the venue right away because, try as you might, you can’t escape the iron grip of the security guard who’s all but glued you down to the ground. You can’t do anything except watch the van speed off while a bunch of fans try (in vain) to follow it. You might have tried to follow it, too, except you already know you’re swimming in boiling water with the current viewing public (plus a couple of really miffed guards) and you might have gotten trampled on anyway.

You end up spending the next three and a half hours down at the police station. At first, you’re worried that they’re going to take your picture or something, but since you don’t have any kind of criminal record — well, until now — you end up waiting the entire time just to hear the chief of police grumble about how it’s too early for this kind of mess and why do all of these girls do all these crazy things for boys that don’t even know them. You don’t say much for the ten minutes it takes him to write your report and lecture you about how strong, young people should do something more substantial with their time and try to pick up skills that will help the community and sharpen one’s mind in pursuit of wisdom, which is really just a roundabout way of saying stop jumping idols. You leave the station with a heavy heart and a new strike against the justice system.

The bus stop is a no-go for you; it’s surely packed with fans who’ve no doubt spent the rest of the morning skipping class, eating breakfast, and probably talking about how outrageous you had been. The subway probably isn’t an option, too, so you end up taking a cab all the way back to your place, except you don’t actually have enough money to pay for the entire fare, so you’re forced to alight four streets away instead. You walk for about twenty minutes before realizing your body is crying in outrage for food; you hadn’t fed yourself at all this morning, save for the ten or so sips of water you had in the back of the M! Countdown studio.

With less than 10,000 won in your pocket, you end up just going into the nearest 7-11 and buying a triangle gimbap to avoid passing out completely on the street. You eat it just as slowly as you walk, partly because you want to savor it, but mostly because you want to avoid having to look Heehyeon in the eye.

Heehyeon. She probably knows everything. No, scratch that — you know she knows. She spends so much time on the internet that you’re sure she’d have her mind fused with a robot if she had enough money. Plus, she’d specifically told you not to do anything dumb, so of course she’d have kept an eye out for the actual dumb thing you really did.

When you arrive at your apartment, you linger behind the door. For some reason, you think about knocking, even though it’s your place and you have a key. You feel unfamiliar and unwelcome — pretty much the effects of ostracising yourself from the general public with just one dumb decision. Even though you decide there’s nothing for it except to face it head on, you try as much as possible to be silent when entering, hoping that Heehyeon has decided to skip out on all things digital today and just take a really long nap.

Of course, with the trajectory of your luck today, it’s no surprise that she’s sitting at the table with her laptop open and a half-eaten apple in her grasp, her free fingers scrolling quickly through what you assume to be the longest comments section ever. Her expression is tired — not sleepy tired but about-to-give-up tired. She doesn’t even have to look up for you to assume a guilty expression while you linger by the doorframe that separates the small kitchen from your living room.

“So what’d you get?” She asks, tone flat.

“A really long lecture and a couple of scratches on my forearm,” you try to sound light, but your attempt only causes the mood to darken a little more. “I didn’t have to pay a fine, or anything…”

Heehyeon glances up at you. You can tell she’s deciding whether or not to comfort you or chew your head off. Luckily, she’s intelligent enough to create a third option under the correct assumption that choosing either of the first two approaches would only end in tears for everyone.

“There’s still some pizza on the counter.”

It’s silent as you extract a slice from the box; the sound of the chair scraping against the floor raises the tiny hairs on your arm and the back of your neck at how loud it is. You don’t eat yet, though; you watch Heehyeon click click click click away, chewing on your bottom lip. It feels like a time for confession, but you’re not even sure where to begin. Before you can open your mouth to really say anything, she beats you to the punch.

“For future reference, when I say ‘don’t do something stupid,’ I mean—”

“Yeah,” you swallow hard. “You mean ‘don’t try to rip someone’s arm off in an attempt to get them to remember you.’ I know.”

“Okay, good. I’m just checking because this isn’t like back then in Greece where police didn’t exist.” She peers over her screen at you, expression unreadable.

“Rome was a better time, though.“ It had been a simpler time. No one had to wear socks with sneakers. You didn’t need an 8 to 5 job. Most importantly, Mark was in love with you. Your lower lip trembles at the memory.

“You all died in a natural disaster,” she reminds you. “But yeah.”

You two lock eyes properly for the first time, and something bubbles up in your chest. You’re not sure what gives you away; maybe it’s your flushed cheeks, or maybe it's the shaky inhale, or even the dangerous flutter of your eyelashes, perhaps. Whatever it is, Heehyeon has her laptop monitor down and is reaching over to clasp your hand in hers just before you burst into tears.

She doesn’t say anything, knows that words won’t really work right now. She just lets you cry it out, and you spend what feels like an hour shifting between weak hiccups, broken sobs, and unholy wails. You only really slow down when you feel like your throat is on fire already, and you have to sluggishly reach into your bag and dig out the water from earlier. Heehyeon’s thumb skates across the back of your hand idly as you try to make up for all the fluids you’ve lost; you even end up sloshing a good amount of the water down your front.

The passing of ten or so minutes sees you in a better state by a fraction; your eyes are puffy and your lips are swollen, but at least your lungs are processing a better amount of air now, and your nose, albeit being congested, has stopped running so much. It’s at this time that you find you still know some words, so you manage to blubber them out to your roommate.

“H-he looked at me like I wasn’t e-even human,” you choke out. “His f-f-face was so — I’d never seen him like th-that. He was mad — no, he h-hated me!”

“_____________, stop it.” She says firmly, and you’re not sure if she means stop saying that he hated you or if she means that you should stop crying, which is what you’re already threatening to resume. “You and I both know that your approach won’t win any congeniality awards this year, but he doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t even know y— okay, I’m sorry, I just meant —“

She’s torn between exasperation and pity as another sob resurfaces, and it takes her at least fifty I’m sorry’s and one trip to the fridge to get you another bottle of water to settle you back into silence. At this point, you’re cried out; your entire being is begging for sleep and you can no longer breathe through your nose.

“But you’re r— right.” You hiccup defeatedly. “He doesn’t even know me. I don’t know how to even get close to him. I just want to give up.”

Heehyeon lapses into silence, and a small voice in the back of your mind tells you she’s biting her tongue. She knows you won’t give up, but you can see she wants to support this decision. A part of you resents that, but in this state, you can’t help but feel like she would be right. Not trying would be a lot easier than trying.

“This just… means that you have to go down a different route. Try another less aggressive, less crazy way.”

“Everyone there must have thought I was crazy,” you groan. When she chooses not to say anything, she only confirms it. “What are they saying? Now, in the comments — what are they saying about me?”

“Nothing out of what would be ordinary.” She tries to spare you, her hand already pressed hard on her laptop, but you manage to move it away from her and turn it to face you instead. For a moment, Heehyeon looks like she wants to stand up and leave you in case you throw a fit, but she remembers she owns half the place, and the result of this is her half-standing before stopping and sitting back down again; she knots her fingers together nervously as you skim down the page she has open. The text isn’t surprising, but it’s not like the knowledge of that soothes your tattered spirit anyway.

NCT’S Mark ATTACKED BY SASAENG FAN

After NCT’s M! Countdown pre-recording today, Mark of NCT experienced a distressing event. As the idol group was about to leave CJ E&M Ent. Building, an unknown sasaeng fan broke through security and tried to abduct him. Area management was quick to apprehend her, and she has been taken to the appropriate authorities. Staff members quickly confirmed with us that Mark is safe and uninjured. His members are currently with him.

NCT will appear on M! Countdown for their special comeback stage tonight at 6PM to perform their newest title track, Favorite (Vampire).

TOP COMMENTS

[+1113, - 17] Ah seriously… it’s 2021 and sasaengs are still like this? Stop wasting your time on your oppas like this and study for your exams… stupid.

[+743, -122] NCT is really this popular. While I don’t condone any sasaeng activity, you can’t deny this is the result of being this famous…

[+556, -98] I was there when this happened. Really, it was crazy. She really looked like she was going to rip his arm off. I thought for sure he would die. So embarrassing…

[+89, -77] Desperate f***s. Haha. Does she really think Mark will fall in love with her like that? Ah,, really. It’s kind of funny. Dumb b****.

[+179, -2] The security should really be tighter. ㅠㅠ Mark-ah, don’t be discouraged!

Your insides have disappeared; there’s this dry hollowness in your stomach that allows you to push the laptop away without a word. Your pizza is still on your plate, but the crust is stale now and the most prominent topping on it is your tears. It’s a good thing that you’re not that hungry anymore.

“They… can’t be expected to understand,” Heehyeon tries carefully. You don’t say anything in response because you know she’s right, but it doesn’t make you feel much better. It also doesn’t make you feel much worse because, really, how much further down can your heart go? “I know you don’t really want to hear this right now, but I think it would be better if you just stayed low.”

“I know that.”

“Okay. I’m just — you know. I’m just saying.” You can tell she’s run out of comfort to offer; she’s no longer sure what to expect from you now that you’ve hit the top three on the checklist of what she had prepared for, which was (1) cry, (2) hate yourself, and (3) look at netizen comments that never promised anything good. You know that she’s willing to play it by ear and try to help, but you’re too tired. You had been up at the crack of dawn for virtually nothing, and you just wanted to crawl in the dark hole you called a room, sleep for ten years, and eventually die.

Except even that wouldn’t be an escape for you. Not really. Just another fresh start into a harder life.

When you stand, Heehyeon does too, and she holds out her hands carefully like she’s worried you’re going to keel over. You both know she doesn’t have the strength to actually carry you, though, so you bear with the sluggish, lead-like feeling your limbs seem to be constrained by and trudge into your room.

“I’ll turn up the air conditioning,” she says, breaking the silence. “I know you don’t like getting sticky when you sleep.”

You open your mouth, but nothing but a pitiful sound comes out. She waves it away, knowing what you mean. You’re thankful she’s this sensible at the best of times.

“For what it’s worth, __________, I—” she checks your expression again, just in case, before she continues. “I’m sorry this happened to you. But if there’s anything I know about you, it’s that you’ve never failed to make it work. I believe in you, even if you don’t really believe in yourself right now.”

Another sad noise escapes you, and Heehyeon nods in understanding, giving your arm a little squeeze before leaving to tamper with the temperature controls.

You should have noticed how dark the sky was today.

You should have, but you don’t because you have too much on your mind today — too many things to do. The main street is a fifteen minute walk from your house, and you have to be home by noon. There’s simply no time to take note of the weather.

You have to be more careful of where you step these days. The town had never fully recovered from the quake of 62, and the cracks in the pavement had deepened when the rainy season had started up; shallow, murky puddles now pepper the road, and you weave around them while trying to avoid any human collisions.

Everyone around you is wearing thicker, heavier clothes now. The turn of the season is near. It’s probably why the sun isn’t beating down on you, even if it’s close to its high. You tuck your limbs closer in as you cross the road, watching your feet to ensure you don’t slip on the rocks when you hop on them. There’s about a ten-inch interval between each one, and you have to make sure you land on just the right spot where your foot can fit. One misstep means a sandal drenched in sewage.

For some reason, Via dell’Abbondanza isn’t as crowded when you arrive there. For a main street, it’s a little too quiet. You can hear the harmony of sighs coming from the different stalls lined up on either side of the road. Not much good business today, then, you think.

You make a point to jingle your relatively small coin purse as you approach one stall. A flurry of limbs reveals the merchant’s son just standing up, trying his best to look attentive. He’s about your age. You’ve only seen him a few times as a child, and even fewer times as you grew up; when you left the merchant’s side of town to get married, you’d forgotten him, along with every other boy and girl that lived in that area. You’re sure you know his name, but you can’t quite place it; you know his father more, as he’s usually who greets you with fresh produce every week.

You express your mild surprise at seeing him by saying, “You’re father’s not well today?”

“Gout’s acting up again,” he answers. The lives of the somewhat rich weren’t always fabulous, you guessed, but you had never stayed long enough to really find out. “It’s just me today. What can I get you?”

“I’ve got a list.” Your eyes sweep over the goods, spread out before you, and you absently hand it over along with the sack. Tanned hands move swiftly, making sure to fit all the produce your tiny pouch can handle. “Do you have anything sweet?”

“I’ve got some fresh apples,” he offers, hand hovering over a bright red pile of fruit.

“Maybe something a little more special.”

He pauses for a moment before abandoning your sack, only half-filled with produce, to go to the back of the stall. Two minutes of rummaging results in him extracting a tiny bag from a box and spilling its contents onto his palm. Even in the grim light, they shine like gold pieces — small, round things rolling around in his hand. You lean forward to take a closer look.

“What are they?”

“Honey drops. Some men from India came with them last week. They say the Greeks love it.” His fingers curl in a little. “What do you need something special for?”

“It’s for my son. We’re celebrating his birthday today.”

The merchant’s son doesn’t say anything anymore; he turns his palm sideways and lets the honey drops fall into your pack. You stand in silence as he finishes off your list, tying the sack neatly up with the rope again. When you’re digging around for the money, though, he speaks.

“You were very young when you got married.” It’s not what you’d have expected, but you nod in response all the same. “Your father… he was upset. My father said he didn’t see your father for at least a month here. He let your brother manage the goods.”

“He was more upset that he didn’t get the dowry he was expecting out of me,” you say, tone rather clipped.

“So, it’s true, then? You ran away with a farmer. That’s what people say.”

“People still talk about it?” You frown. “It’s been years. I love him. I don’t regret it.”

“I never said — I’m sorry if you felt like I was criticizing. I’m not. I just didn’t—” he sighs. “I just think it must be nice.”

“To be gossiped about?”

“No. To marry for love.”

A dull silence follows, and you’re not sure how to react to his words. Instead, you ask, “How much?”

“Just twenty denarii.”

“And the honey drops?”

“You just take them,” he shakes his head. “For your son. Think of it as a gift for him.”

You offer him a small smile before counting out the silver pieces carefully. He cups his palm under your hand, skin brushing briefly against yours as you tip the money to him. Something like electricity runs up your arm and hits the back of your neck, and you both draw back sharply, looking sheepish.

“Thank you. Give your father my best,” you say, rubbing your neck.

“I will. Have a good day.”

Even though it’s noon when you get back, you can’t find the sun; the wind that blows against the back of your neck is hot and dry, though. Your son’s face is flushed when he runs to the door to meet you, but at least he doesn’t look uncomfortable; his eyes are wide with excitement. At the age of three — well, four today — he’s got too much energy trapped inside his tiny form, and he constantly tries to release it by running the perimeter of your tiny home. As you sit at the table, he resumes his crusade, sometimes standing on his tiptoes by the window and yelling “Domitian is our savior!” You’ve never figured out where he’d learned that, but you know it always tires him out a little faster, so you just let him be.

Around what feels like his hundredth time around the house, he sticks his head out of the window again. Instead of screaming the same praise for the emperor, he ends up saying, “Papa’s home!” Your head snaps up, and, sure enough, there’s a playful little knock on the door not a minute later. Your son almost trips over his chubby legs as he goes to open the door, revealing your husband, sun-kissed skin covered in a sheen of sweat and a wide grin across his face. More noise ensues as your son lets out a happy squeal at being swept up in his father’s arms and carried over to the table, limbs flailing fruitlessly. His arm collides with the side of your face gently when your husband leans down to press his lips to your forehead, and you let out a surprised laugh at the contact.

“I didn’t think they’d really let you come home early,” you say as your husband sets your squirming son down on a stool before taking his own seat. He starts unpacking the rest of the produce you’d left inside the sack.

“I said I couldn’t miss this special occasion,” he chuckles. “Besides, it looked like it was going to rain, anyway. What’s this?”

He rolls a honey drop between his calloused fingers. Your son stops making a fuss on his own and turns his attention to the sweet, eyes widening.

“Gold?” He whispers. Your husband bursts out laughing.

“Son, if we ever had this much gold, I could give your mother the life she truly deserved.”

“Stop it,” you smile, shaking your head. “You two are all I could ever ask for. I’m the luckiest person alive.”

“Frankly, I think that’s me, but let’s agree to disagree.” He flashes you another grin you can’t help but mirror. Your son reaches over and tries to grab the drop when you’re not watching, but your husband is smart enough to hide it in a fist and put it back in the sack where it can’t be reached. “Let’s save that for later. Should we pray first?”

The meal is filled with small talk. You tell your husband about the merchant’s gout. He tells you about one of the men who work with him on the field who had been caught and punished for stealing a bit of barley. You make him promise never to do that, and he pretends to be hurt by your lack of faith in him before making the promise, coupled with a kiss to your palm. Your son finishes his food quickly and goes to the window to yell one more time before asking the both of you if the emperor had greeted him a happy birthday. You assure him of it.

The food and the running around (at least, in your child’s case) quickly makes you sleepy, but your son insists that you both sing him a birthday song before you take him in for a nap. You don’t have that gift, so you let your husband lead, opting to clap along instead. Two minutes later, your son is yawning so widely you can see the back of his throat, and you pick him up to bring him to bed.

“What about the gold drops?” He asks sleepily.

“They’ll still be there when you wake up,” you promise. He concedes and lets you cart him off.

You’d only just seen your son off to sleep when you feel it — the first wave of something. It’s mild at first, but it’s quickly followed by a second, longer one. You stumble out of the room to find that your husband is also standing up, brow furrowed.

“An earthquake?” You ask.

“It could be,” he mutters. “But it—“

The third one is accompanied by a terrifying sound; it’s a deep rumble that passes through the earth under your feet and resonates in your chest. Instinctively, you run forward, and your husband wraps you in his arms. You both look out the window.

No one is on the street now, but you can see a few heads also peeking out of their windows. All their eyes seem to follow the same line, and you quickly direct your own gaze to what they’re so focused on. When you see it, you let out a weak gasp. Your husband’s hold on you grows tighter.

The thick outline of the volcano is different today; more than just its normal conical shape, you see a thick cloud of thick, gray smoke rising up from its tip. The cloud is moving fast — too fast to be something you could shrug off. Your husband seems to think the same thing, because he lets go of you quickly but keeps a hold on your arm, towing you towards the room where your son rested.

He can barely get out the words “we have to leave” before he’s interrupted by the sound of an explosion. You don’t see it, but you feel it instantly; the air grows alarmingly hotter, almost burning your skin. A new smell enters the hot wind; it’s sharp and unpleasant, sticking to the back of your throat.

There’s another tell-tale rumble in the floor, and your son screams in confusion as he sits up in bed. You land by his side, holding him close to you. You say it’s fine, but it’s not.

Another explosion. It’s much louder this time, maybe because people are screaming outside. You’re screaming too, face pressed into your son’s hair. It’s much too hot now. Too hot, like the air is setting you aflame completely.

The last two things you feel are your son’s tears dripping onto your knee and your husband’s form pressed firmly against you. It’s his body that catches most of the impact when the last explosion sounds off and you’re completely engulfed in ash.

When you come back into consciousness, you notice that your shirt is sticking to your back. Despite Heehyeon turning down the temperature, you’d still sweat through the nightmare. She’d been kind enough to leave you a glass of water by your bedside. You throw her a silent thank you as you throw your head back and gulp it down. You drink almost desperately, as if you’re trying to wash the last of the ashes out of your throat.

You ask your boss if you can leave work early when Heehyeon texts you that you have an “urgent package” a few days later. You’re pretty sure it’s for the fansign event. She lets you take the rest of the day off, but she can’t hide her exasperation.

“NCT models for Nature Republic,” she says pointedly. “You get to see them all day.”

“It’s not the same thing as seeing them in person,” you defend yourself.

“You go to a fan sign to see how pretty they are. What’s the difference?”

You feel like telling her that the difference is that in a fan sign, the love of your life is a real, three-dimensional person you can talk to and not a life-sized standee at the front of the shop, but you don’t really want to argue. She had just given you the day off, anyway.

“Just remember you’re working double shifts this Monday.” She says this like it’s a punishment, even though weekdays mean later opening times and less customers. “Sejeong has already covered for you twice this week. It’s a good thing she’s okay that you’re such a big NCT fan.”

There are two big boxes by your door when you get home, your face still flushed from running up the stairs; one has already been ripped open, and a big chunk of what was inside has already been extracted. You can hear the sound of ripping plastic and the regular sigh coming from the kitchen, and you enter it to find your roommate with a cutter in her hand and at least twenty NCT albums spread out across the table. She’s in the process of opening one of them, peeling off the cling wrap and shaking out the papers inside.

“You know you don’t even have to open them, right?” You say slowly. “They don’t stick the ticket inside. They do the draws on the websites, so all you need is the receipt.”

“I know; you told me that,” Heehyeon leans back, tossing the free Genie streaming pass to the side. “I’m looking at the photocards.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

“They’re all the same. You shouldn’t have bought it in bulk.”

“I had to,” you frown. “They say it’s better to get a whole range of entries instead of sparse numbers.”

“Well, you also got a whole range of Kim Doyoung photo cards.” To prove her point, she tosses a photo card in your direction. “Oh, and one Taeil card. So far.”

“No Mark?”

“No; it’s what I’ve been looking for.” You think she’s acting really considerate and touching for you until she says, “They’re the ones that make the most money often. Him and Jaehyun”

“You can’t sell my photocards.”

“Why not? You have at least ten Doyoungs right now. What are you going to do with them; make a Kim Doyoung photocard fort?”

You ignore her, taking an album instead and peeling off the wrapping. You leaf through the first few pages, but it’s the Chinese version, and you can’t read it, so you just skip to where all the extra goods have been stuck. When you turn the photo card over, you sigh. It’s just Jaehyun.

You don’t even get through the entire stack that Heehyeon has laid out on the kitchen table before you give up. Obviously, the photo cards aren’t urgent, so you just let her collect them with the Genie passes and move on to the boxes again. You nearly break a nail trying to rip open the other box, but it’s worth it; you manage to get your hands on the receipt, wedged between two albums, and the list of lottery entries for the fansign has been stapled to it.

Heehyeon has given up too, and she stands by the doorway as you scan the numbers. “So how many entries do you get?”

“Depends on how many albums you buy.”

“Well, how many albums did you buy?”

“A hundred and fifty,” you respond, not batting an eyelash.

“You crazy bitch,” she sighs heavily. “We could be living in a better apartment if you hadn’t thrown all your money at NCT.”

“At Mark,” you correct her. You may be a crazy bitch, but you’re also pretty loyal. “Our apartment is great now, anyway.”

“So if you do get a fan sign pass, what’s the plan?”

It sounds like a test or something, like there’s only one right answer to the question. There really is only one right answer, and you let her hear it. “The plan is not to attack anyone.”

“Good. I approve of this plan. But I’d sleep better knowing that I could actually make sure you stuck to it.” Her expression says what she doesn’t verbalize. Unlike last time.

“I’d be lucky to get one fan sign pass, let alone two.”

“Maybe you should let me take the one fan sign pass instead. I’ll give Mark your love.”

You make a motion to throw an album at her, but she doesn’t budge, knowing fully well that you won’t attack her with anything that expensive. She just sticks out her tongue in reply.

The announcement comes up later than expected; Heehyeon’s laptop is out on the kitchen table again after a quick argument about who should clean up the albums (apparently, since they’re yours, you are also responsible in some way; you’d played rock, paper, scissors with her, and had promptly lost). You put up a SuaSua page that autorefreshes the Synnara website while you eat dinner. Heehyeon tells you about how someone at her office had stuck a ripped bag of popcorn into the pantry’s microwave and had caused the butter to explode and leak out of the appliance, leading to the entire floor smelling like burnt popcorn. You ask her if that “someone” was her, and she starts talking about how the weather today was unusually hot.

Synarra’s website crashes for a good ten minutes, showing only a white page with a proxy error, and you realize they must be adding the announcement already. You grab the laptop and yank it towards you while Heehyeon inhales the rest of her rice quickly before moving her chair closer to yours and sticking her head closer to the monitor. A chipped gray nail drags down the screen, leaving a long fingerprint streak, and she says the numbers out loud as you check the list.

“98?”

“No.”

“121?”

“Nope.”

“How about 145?”

She loses almost all of her saliva trying to carefully read out the numbers, but there’s such a short list drawn from a slew of album sales that you’re slowly losing hope. Only about a hundred people will be able to enter the fan sign. You glance back at the boxes by the door, wondering if they’re enough. You’d thought so at first — 150 albums were a lot — but now you’re unsure. Heehyeon says something you don’t catch.

“What?” You ask dumbly.

“I said, do you have 322?”

“Oh-“ You check the first page of the list. Nothing. You’re holding your breath when you flip the page, your eyes more carefully counting the numbers. 317. 318. 319. God, please don’t let it stop there. 320. 321. “Yes, I—”

The paper is snatched out from your grasp before you can complete your poor word choice. Heehyeon’s jaw falls steadily lower as she counts the same numbers and arrives at the magic one.

“You crazy bitch,” she says for the second time today, but it’s less accusing now; in fact, it’s more of an awed whisper. “It actually worked.”

“You’re sure it says 322?”

You both take turns checking, but there’s no denying it. Your number is there. You’re going to the fan sign.

“This is crazy,” Heehyeon murmurs, and she sounds like she really thinks it’s the single most astonishing thing she’s ever seen in all of her lives. “I’d already written out my comforting in-case-you-didn’t-win speech.”

You don’t say anything in response; your mind is much too far away, focused on a week from now, on a day you would see Mark again. It wouldn’t be like M! Countdown. You’d be calmer. You’d be able to explain yourself. Maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to set things right. It’s a gamble, facing him again, but at this point, you feel like fate is finally starting to take your side, and you’re too high from running with it to think about all the cracks in the road.

Heehyeon takes you to CGV Apgujeong on the Saturday of the fansign a week later. There are a number of fans on the orange subway to Apgujeong station, and you panic momentarily in the fear that some of them might recognize you as That Sasaeng from Hell, but they don’t even pay attention; they’re too busy talking to each other, flipping through their albums and showing each other which gifts they want to give to the members. One of them has a goodie basket, and you tilt your head to read the card attached to it.

Mark oppa, please eat these snacks and gain some strength. Czennies are always with you!

It hits you again that the fan demographic for this group isn’t exactly the work a full time job kind, so they have to call him oppa. When you point this out to Heehyeon, all she does is give you a patronizing look and ask if you’re just jealous that you’re not the only one who can lovingly call him that. You ignore her for the rest of the train ride until she tries to make it up to you by dragging you into a coffee shop and buying you a churro.

Even though there are only 100 winners, the crowd at the building is at least five times larger. It’s M! Countdown all over again with the line, except only a select few can really go inside, and the others are just hanging around with their cameras to see if they’ll be able to get a glimpse of NCT. No one bothers you, and you start to realize that maybe less people had seen you in full during The Incident; maybe at that time, you had just looked like a very aggressive blur of pink. It also helps that Heehyeon is chatting to you loudly while dipping and re-dipping her churro into her chocolate so that you can keep your mind off of your building anxiety.

Of course, that dam breaks the moment security says only people with the winning albums can go through the door. Instinctively, you cling onto Heehyeon, and you realize you actually do want her in there with you. She’s the one that has to extract herself from your hold.

“Go on, _____________.”

“I’m terrified,” you admit, fiddling with the sticker on the album that says 322.

“It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. Just remember what we talked about.” She leans in closer to whisper. “Keep your cool. Explain yourself. Say sorry for the other day, and give him the thing.”

You make a face. Right. The thing. While fans had brought their little dolls and gift baskets and toys, you had a letter — a stupid, handwritten letter that you tried to explain yourself with in the vaguest way possible (to avoid looking even more like a lunatic than you probably already do) while also begging for forgiveness for your attitude. You aren’t very good with words, so Heehyeon had stood behind you coaching you through what to say. All in all, the letter’s a mess, but at least you’re not going in empty-handed.

The elevator’s the only way to the theater where the fan sign is going to be held, so they let you in by batches. When it’s your turn, you get stuck between the wall and another fan the wrong way, the handle bar of the elevator digging into your stomach. You spend what feels like ten whole minutes like two uncomfortable inches away from Mark’s huge face on the poster that runs along the three walls of the elevator before you arrive at the fifth floor of the building and everyone trickles out of the cramped space. At this point, you’re absolutely nauseated, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the whole handle-punching-you thing in the elevator, or if it’s because you’re growing more and more nervous at the prospect of seeing Mark again.

The auditorium is full when you’re ushered to your seat, and you get to stay near the back, which is elevated so that you can see everything, albeit from a distance. Three long tables have been stuck together on the little stage they have set up in front of the theater screen curtains, and there are nine chairs set up in a row behind them. The sea of fans in front of you houses a good number of pink dots, and you remember what those Jaehyun fans at the M! Countdown pre-recording had said about how you could pick out a Mark fan by the color of their shirt. You’re not one of them this time, though; Heehyeon had told you not to draw any kind of attention to yourself, and a violently fuschia shirt was the antithesis to that advice. You content yourself with miserably counting how many people are wearing pink.

You’re in the 20 or so range when a loud cheer erupts from the crowd, and you start; you had been so busy counting that you hadn’t noticed that the staff and security had taken their place around the stage, soon followed by the NCT members themselves. They enter in a line, waving at the crowd enthusiastically. Johnny, who is leading the line and takes the farthest seat from the starting point, is throwing out a flurry of finger hearts that the crowd goes wild over. When they’re at their places, they do their greetings before taking their seats, and the fans quiet down to listen to Mark, who is starting off the opening ment and talking about how he’s really happy about this comeback.

You lean forward in your seat, your eyes trained on only him. Mark looks different today from when you last saw (some would say attacked) him. Today, there are no traces of make-up on his face, no hair products in place. His skin looks dewy and bright, and he’s wearing glasses, perched just on the edge of his nose. They move when he scrunches his nose as he laughs, and he has to push them back to keep them from falling when he leans forward to look at the other members down the line. The white shirt he has on is a little too big for him, but it looks comfortable. Seeing him on stage for a performance is different, you realize. He looks so… at home like this. So normal. So happy.

It makes your heart ache even more.

There’s nothing to do but wait for your turn, and it’s a long time until then. The process goes on a per-row basis to avoid a messy and overcrowded stage, and you watch as fans enter the line one after another, stopping to chat with each member. Some of them have obviously done this before — at least, enough times to be comfortably chatting and laughing with members who remember them. Others are a little more starstruck, and they come off the stage crying, their tears spilling over on their albums — more specifically, Johnny’s face, since they usually have the books open to his photo.

The more people that go up, the more unsure you are of this whole scenario. You wish you could be the kind of fan that they would remember fondly, but most of the members hadn’t even seen you properly when you’d run up to Mark. Probably the only person that would remember you apart from him would be Doyoung, and your only interaction with him had been him trying to pry you off his friend. Chances are, you’re going to end up like the other kind of fan that just broke down during the course of the fan sign, but maybe not for the same reasons.

When the row in front of you is led to the stage, you start feeling sick. You think it’s because you’ve been sitting too long, but, deep down, you know it’s you fears eating away at your insides, and this is only confirmed when you’re advised to stand, and you actually raise a hand to your mouth, pressing two fingers against your lips tightly just in case your churro decided to make a reappearance.

The walk to the stage is horrendously long, and even though you know the other fans are too busy leafing through their signed albums, you feel like you’re under scrutiny. The staff make sure you go up one by one to avoid some kind of traffic jam, and when it’s your turn, you feel your knees go weak. You’re not sure what you look like, but you can’t look that great. The staff at the front of the line asks you to hand over your album and follow the other fans, who’ve had to kneel in front of the idols. You’re inwardly thankful, because there’s almost no strength left in your calves.

The first member in line is Taeil, and he greets you quietly and without fuss. The staff member hands him your album, and he asks for your name. You barely manage to choke it out, and it’s embarrassing when he has to ask for it again. It’s worse with Yuta, who’s so intimidatingly attractive that you actually feel the need to scoot backwards onto your knees. He even asks you to spell out your name because your voice has gone too small.

“You seem so nervous,” he laughs. “Is this your first fan sign?”

“Um,” you answer unintelligibly. “Sorry?”

“No, no. I don’t mean it like it’s a bad thing. But don’t be nervous in front of us. We like seeing our fans happy.”

“Yes. I’m… happy.”

He spares you an amused glance as he’s finishing up his signature. You don’t know what’s so funny, unless you look paper-white and that somehow sets his funny bone off. Luckily, Taeyong isn’t the excessively talkative type — at least, not the kind that makes you feel like you’re under a lamplight in an interrogation room — and the only thing Haechan asks you is if he should call you “noona,” to which you also smartly reply with “uh.” You can’t remember when his birthday is; all you can think about is trying to keep consciousness. He just writes “noona” next to your name, anyway.

When you get to Jaehyun, you truly feel like you’re going to throw up. Mark is right beside him, talking to another fan animatedly. You hear him say something about ghost pepper noodles. He can’t take spicy food, you remember. Your head is light, and the room is spinning, and is that a halo around Mark’s head?

“You must like Mark, huh?”

When you look back at Jaehyun, it looks like a bright light is shining behind his head as well. He only spares you a quick glance, his entire body leaned forward to sign your album carefully. You lick your lips, unsurprised to find them bone dry.

“I — sorry,” you say quietly, and he laughs easily, signing across his torso in the picture. You briefly consider that these people have a weird sense of humor.

“No; it’s fine. Mark has so many fans, doesn’t he? It’s because he’s really talented and humble.”

“You’re… talented and humble too,” you mutter carefully. He chuckles again.

“Thank you. What did you say your name was again?”

“______________.”

He scrawls it messily above his signature before tilting his head back to look at the overall effect of his handwriting vandalizing his own photo. The last stroke of your name just touches his forehead in the picture. “_____________, I hope you continue to love and support Mark and NCT, then.”

Jaehyun pushes your album to the side towards Mark, but your hands are already outstretched to receive it. There’s this long, awkward pause where you’re just cupping thin air and he’s just staring at your hands, and you want to apologize again, except you’re not sure what to apologize for. He just bursts out laughing again, and takes your hand in his to shake it so you don’t look foolish. There must be a lot of static in the air, because the moment your palms make contact, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, as if you’ve been weakly electrocuted.

He must feel it too because he draws back quickly, and his eyes, previously crinkled with laughter, are now wide and alert. On you. Your stomach drops as an unmistakable expression of recognition reforms his features. His jaw drops.

“Hold on—“

You’re screwed. He must recognize you from The Incident. You open your mouth, but you don’t even know what to say, and before you even have a chance to form a word, the girl beside you inches closer to kneel in front of Jaehyun; the staff behind him is motioning for you to move faster. All you can do is shoot him one last pleading look before you move in front of Mark, and  he’s still staring at you, a little dumbfounded, as you side-crawl further away.

Mark is talking to Doyoung, unaware of the hold-up you’ve caused. They’re sharing a joke, and Mark’s laughter rings in your ears. You actually feel yourself drowning out all the noise around you and focusing on the sound of it. All you can hear is that laugh, coupled by the erratic beat of your heart that feels like it’s about to rip through your chest.

It happens again — that slow-motion, tunnel vision thing you’d felt right before you’d rushed towards him last week. You think it’s nerves at first, but you quickly realize it’s your body warning you of an impending disaster.

He turns to face you, his eyes a little glassy and unfocused from laughing. He doesn’t recognize you for a moment, slim fingers already reaching out for your album and uncapping his pen. It’s only for a split second, really, but you lock eyes in that small span of time. The realization seeps through his gaze as his memory feeds him the information you fear the most.

Mark drops his pen at the same time that he pushes his chair back; the movement is so sharp and violent that the table he’s sharing with Doyoung and Johnny scrapes forward, hitting your chest — not too hard, but enough to knock a little wind out of you. The members look up in alarm at the noise, and it’s only aggravated by Mark’s loud voice hitting all four corners of the auditorium.

“It’s you—!”

Doyoung is the second to recognize you, and he stands up, looking still disoriented but mostly angry, and he jabs his index finger in your direction as if he wants everyone to know you’re the one Mark is referring to.

You don’t know what to do; you put your hands forward, but this just seems to cause an even larger riot. Staff are by your side in a second, and this burly guy grabs you by the elbow and hoists you up. A vague memory of him as the same guy who’d grabbed Mark after the pre-recording pings in the back of your mind, but you don’t have time to worry about that. You go up without resistance, but your gaze is still fixed on Mark, who is now just staring back at you in alarm, half his body hidden behind another security guard who’s shielding him, as if he thinks you’re just going to propel yourself forward and strangle the life out of someone.

Everyone at the table is standing now; even the fans are on their feet, looking livid. Suddenly, everything in your field of vision swims, and you feel the tears spilling over your cheeks, leaving hot, wet streaks of make-up that can’t look attractive.

“Mark,” your voice comes out weakly. “Mark, please. Please — just listen—”

Even if he were to really listen, you don’t have time; you’re already being dragged away by the staff, and they take you through the fire exit to avoid a bigger scene. This entire time, you’re looking back at the table, and you’re trying to call out Mark’s name, but he’s refusing to look your way now, shakily taking his seat as the staff realigns the tables. The only time you stop yelling is when the fire exit’s door slams shut.

It doesn’t take long for you to sober down, and you try telling the staff you weren’t planning on doing anything weird, but they aren’t taking any chances. Two big guys keep your arms practically pinned to your sides as they escort you to the first floor, where building security had called up the police again. You at least feel a little lucky that they don’t parade you out up front where everyone can see you.

You desperately want to call Heehyeon, but they’ve confiscated your phone and your wallet, so you just sit in the back of the police car, trying not to scream. You hadn’t even done anything, but he’d panicked anyway. You’d already spent your time regretting The Incident, but this, by far, was its worse effect. If you ever showed up in front of him again, you’d probably be given a real restraining order.

No one talks to you at the police station; they’re so busy trying to deal with other cases of misdemeanor here and there that they actually just let you sit by the door for twenty minutes. You could leave, but you don’t; you’re not taking any more chances right now. Eventually, you’re led into a temporary holding cell next to a shoplifter, and you’re suddenly glad they’ve confiscated your valuables.

It’s quiet, save for the footsteps of the shoplifter that’s pacing agitatedly. She keeps forgetting she doesn’t have a watch and actually checks her bare wrist every so often, as if she’s waiting for someone. You let out a long sigh and press your back against the wall for a second before you realize you don’t know what’s been near it, and you shoot up straight again, your features morphing to express disgust. Your cellmate snickers.

Heehyeon must know something’s wrong already. By now, everyone’s left the auditorium, and it won’t take a public service announcement for her to catch wind of something bad happening in the fan sign. She’d have to ask security about you, then wait for a cab to get to the police station. If she’s as smart as you think she is, she should be outside trying to bail you out of your overnight stay.

Your spirit lifts for the first time since the fan sign as you see the officer that apprehended you come back into the holding areas. He stops in front of your cell, gesturing for you come forward before getting the keys to unlock the cell.

“You’re letting me go?” You confirm, watching him struggle with the keys.

“Your friend paid your bail,” he drawls out the word friend, like he’s disgusted by the idea that Heehyeon is paying for your release. “He’s signing the papers outside.”

He?

You’re nothing short of confused when you exit the holding area, and your eyes immediately scan the police station for Heehyeon. There’s no sign of her though.

The only person you recognize is NCT’s Jaehyun, standing taller than almost everyone in the room, grinning and gesturing for you to come over.

[starlitangels]

(Still) Not a Tank

A little race/role swap AU for Sam and Darlin’. There’s a lot more to explore in this AU. No promises for a Part 2 but it might be fun... 3.4k words

—

“See ya tomorrow, Audrey Jane!” Sam called as he shoved open the door to the healer’s clinic, keys already in his hand.

“See ya, Sam!” Audrey Jane called back.

Whistling, Sam unlocked his truck and climbed up into it. He turned over the engine and shut the radio off. It had been a long day and Dahlia’s Top 40 was the last thing he wanted to get jammed into his brain. Music was nice in the morning to help him wake up, but after the long day, he didn’t want anymore.

Despite the day being long, it had also been slow and boring. Not a lot of healing to do, but that was partially because his class had taken a lot of burden off the clinic staff in order to get their practical, hands-on experience.

The nice thing about clinic life was the hours. Three twelve-and-a-half-hour shifts per week with four days off, and he skipped rush hour. Which meant it took him twenty minutes to drive home instead of an hour. Twenty minutes during which he decompressed from the stress of the day.

After parking in his garage, Sam pulled out a container from the meal prep he’d done yesterday, reheated it, and ate quickly. He was hungry—having not eaten since about two and it was half-past nine.

Once he ate, he moved to go upstairs to shower, but froze. His house’s property bordered the woods. Wildlife sounds weren’t uncommon.

The snarling he heard was not wildlife. It didn’t sound like shifters getting in a tussle either.

Completely unable to ignore the concern that sprang up in his chest, he shoved into his boots and ran out the backdoor.

Maybe for some people, one person running headlong into the woods would seem dangerous and reckless. But Sam was a Freelancer—and a strong one, as far as Freelancers went. He wasn’t scared of wildlife—and he sure as hell wasn’t scared of other empowereds.

He followed the sounds of violence deeper into the trees, noticing scuffs in the hard-packed earth and broken bushes and branches all along the way. Whatever was tangling, they were both big and both really strong. There were no whines of pain like an animal or a shifter would make, and Sam could sense the subtlest echoes of magic. He had one guess.

Vampires.

There came several cries of pain from up ahead, and then the telltale Zip of vampires taking off at top speed. A moment after the Zips faded, Sam heard a thud.

He kept going. Heavy breathing met his ears the closer he got. He swung around a tree trunk—

And there was a person, lying in the dirt. Technically lying on their side, but tilted dangerously steep like they were going to fall on their face. Their aura was subdued when his magic reached out to sense it. But he’d recognize a vampire’s aura anyway.

He rushed over. They were covered in blood. A decent chunk of it their own. If the gashes in their skin were anything to go by.

He knew vampires regenerated quickly. Healing magic could kickstart the process, but usually they didn’t need it. But as he knelt next to the half-conscious vampire, he didn’t see any sign of their wounds closing up. “Oh, God,” he whispered. His hands hovered over them, unsure of where to start. “Hey, can you hear me?”

No response.

Sam took a deep breath and sighed. “Can’t heal ‘em out here,” he muttered. He shook his head and rolled them onto their back.

Suddenly, silver eyes snapped open. Fangs protruded from their mouth as they snarled and tried to scramble back—but got cut off with a yelp as their hands flew to one of the injuries on their side. “Get away from me!” they spat.

“Whoa there, darlin’,” Sam said. “I’m a healer. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

They tried again to move, but their body wouldn’t let them do much more than jerk without a recoil of pain. Sam put his hands up to show he meant no harm.

“Look, I’m not the one who just got in a fight with three vamps—”

“Four,” they snapped. “And, for the record, I won.”

Sam made a show of taking stock of their injuries. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say,” he remarked sarcastically. They growled at him. “I can start fixin’ you up. Ya just gotta work with me. Can I pick you up?”

“I would rather—” The vampire tried to stand, but convulsed. “Yeah, yeah okay. Fine.”

Sam scooped them up as gently as he could and started to pick his way back the way he’d come. The vampire was holding their side. Sam suspected they probably broke at least one rib. “You from one of the clans ‘round here?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

They scoffed. “Only one in this city,” they choked out.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean y’ain’t from the surroundin’ region.”

“Nah. Moved to Dahlia long before I turned. Stayed after I turned.”

“So you’re Solaire Clan?”

“Mmhmm.”

Sam smacked his lips. “Is that sour grapes I taste?”

“Mind your business,” they spat, fangs snapping out and digging into their lower lip.

“Just tryna keep ya talkin’, darlin’. Keeps your mind off the pain. And you don’t seem the type to respond to the usual bedside manner tricks,” he remarked casually.

“I could kick your ass into next year, you know.”

“Oh without a doubt,” he agreed. “But in order to do that, you’ll have to be able to stand. Which you currently can’t. So I’m gonna take care of that for ya, okay?”

They growled again. But with a huff, they didn’t bother to argue. Despite the fact that they were clearly turned in their mid-twenties, they had an impetuous teenager attitude brewing around them.

“I’m Sam,” he said.

“Okay.”

He rolled his eyes. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

They didn’t reply. Just tensed their arm holding their side. Sam “Hmm”ed and ducked under a busted branch.

“If you don’t tell me your name, I’m just gonna keep callin’ ya ‘darlin’’,” he said.

They grunted.

He shrugged. “Alright.”

The rest of the walk back to his house was short, but spent in silence. He used a bit of Psychokinesis to open the back door and took them upstairs, putting the vampire in the shower/tub combo of the guest bathroom. They groaned in pain. Sam made a sympathetic face, waiting for them to find a comfortable position.

Once they settled, he scanned them with his eyes again. “Okay. I'm gonna clean the wounds first. It’s gonna sting.”

“I’m familiar.”

“Were you empowered before you turned?”

“Yup. Shifter.”

Sam swore quietly under his breath. “Hard to make the change?”

“Not really. Fighting as a wolf, fighting as a vamp—one less step in between. Still use my teeth and claws.” They flexed their hands to show off sharp nails. Not quite claws, but he understood the sentiment. “Just get to stay on two feet and maintain use of my thumbs.”

“I meant the lifestyle change. Pack to clan. From what I’ve heard packs are much tighter-knit than clans.”

“They are. But I was always more solitary by nature anyway.”

Sam cleaned out all their wounds in a burst of magic while they spoke. They wrenched out a swear before going limp in the bathtub.

“Coulda warned me,” they growled.

“Hurts less when it’s a surprise.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Know that from experience, do you?” Sam sniped.

“Yes, actually,” the vampire shot back. Sam stared. “You’ll see.”

Not knowing what they meant, he shook his head and went back to what he knew. Healing. “Mind if I move your clothes around to see your wounds?”

With some fidgeting and grunting, the vampire fully stripped their shirt off. “Don’t care,” they said.

Sam certainly did. He’d seen patients without any clothes on before. That wasn’t what startled him.

No. He was startled by this vampire’s body. Covered in scars that even a vampire’s healing factor or the act of turning them couldn’t fix. Not to mention the muscles packed tight under their skin. He made himself ignore his curiosity about the tattoo peeking around the arm farthest away from him and get to work.

“Can I touch? Healin’ works better if I—”

“I know. Go for it.”

Sam gently probed at their side. They hissed. “Yeah, that’s broken,” he murmured to himself. “Just… take a slow breath in. Not too deep. Just slow.” He inhaled with them. “And out.” As they exhaled, he healed the broken bone. They twitched, but otherwise didn’t react. “Took that well.”

“I’ve been healed a lot,” they grumbled. “Usually by my best friend in the pack back when I was a shifter.”

“One of the ones around here, I’m guessin’?”

Jaw tight, the vampire nodded. “Shaw.”

Sam blinked, startled. “As in Gabe and David?”

“Yup.” They sucked a deep breath in through clenched teeth, and slowly exhaled.

Then gave him their name.

Sam blinked. “I… know that name.”

“Duh. It was all over empowered news about fifteen years ago,” they ground out. Sam guided them through another inhale and exhale as he healed the worst gash he could see—the one on their other side just over their hip. “That’s why I don’t use it much anymore. Can’t get a lick of privacy when the Shaw Pack’s beta—” They snarled the word out. “—runs afoul of a damn leech and gets turned because of it. Even fifteen years later.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t you read the news?”

“No.” Sam healed what must have been a broken finger. They bit out another sharp curse.

“Damn bastard named Quinn. Nomadic. He doesn’t have a clan. He and I got in a fight when he strayed into Gabe’s territory. I just about had him beat when he caught me off guard and pulled a damn trance on me. Crooned about how he never tranced if he could help it—that it wasn’t as fun—but that he knew he couldn’t beat me. Decided to teach me a lesson.” Their fangs slid down into place again. Sam guided them through one more breath to heal another nasty injury. “Bit into his own wrist and made me drink it, then drained me. I passed out.

“When I woke up, William’s first blood, Alexis, had torn Quinn to shreds. I was barely conscious. She carried me back to Will. Dropped me rather unceremoniously on his desk. Said something she’s never explained about rectifying a mistake of hers, told William I was his problem now, and then left the office.

“I spent the next year being shepherded through my bloodlust by William and Vincent with no maker. Which suits me just fine. After I was out of it, William offered me a place in the clan. I wanted to leave but I couldn’t get back the life I’d lost. Gabe had replaced me with Adrian and was right to do so. Striking out on my own sounded great but… I owed a great debt to Will and Vincent for taking care of me. By the time I estimated I’d repaid them both, I’d grown too damn attached to them and just… kept… not leaving. So I stayed.”

The entire time they spoke, Sam used their distraction to heal them without them dwelling on their pain. Sounded like they needed to get it off their chest anyway. Fifteen years was a long time to hold onto that story, and he imagined they’d never told anyone else.

“Alright. If you don’t use your name anymore, what name do you use? What do I call you?” he asked as he finished up the last of the worst injuries. Their healing factor seemed to have finally gotten with the program and stitched up the little stuff.

“Gabe used to say I was built like a tank. Caught on with the pack. They called me Tank when they were being funny. That’s still what I use when I don’t want to draw attention to myself.”

Sam raised a brow. “Think I’ll just stick to ‘darlin’’,” he remarked.

They scoffed. “Whatever.”

“It’s been a while since you fed, isn’t it?”

“What?” Their tone turned even sharper than it had been. Defending a weakness, he thought.

“You weren’t healin’ naturally as fast as most vamps your age could. Only reason for that I know of is when a vamp hasn’t fed in a while.”

“Mind your business.”

“I’m a healer, darlin’. The health of my patient is my business.”

A growl rumbled low in their chest. They assessed their body with a sharp gaze. “Looks like I’m all healed up now, though. Not your patient anymore. So… Thank you, Sam. I'll get out of your hair.”

They moved to get up, but Sam put a hand on their shoulder. “Now hold on, darlin’. Healin’ magic that deep will knock you right out. If you pass out on the run back to your clan’s den, you could plow face-first into a tree.”

“I know how to power through the fatigue.”

“You shouldn’t have to. Got a clanmate’s number I can call to have someone come pick you up?” he asked. They opened their mouth—presumably to protest again—so he cut them off. “Because it’s that or you’re stayin’ the night in my spare room.”

They dodged out from under his hand on their shoulder. “No thanks,” they said.

“Alright. Who should I call?”

“Ghostbusters,” they retorted sarcastically. Then sighed. “William’s probably the easiest to reach. He’s always in his office all night. I don’t know the number off the top of my head and my phone’s at home but if you look up Solaire Property Management on Google Maps, you’ll find the building number. You can get to William that way. Or one of the clan.” They smirked sarcastically. “If you’re tech-savvy enough for that.”

Sam rolled his eyes and pulled his phone out. “Surprisin’ as it might seem, you and I are probably not that different in age.”

“Probably not,” they agreed, stretching. They narrowed those silver eyes. “Let me guess… mid… late seventies?”

“Late.”

They nodded. “Eighty-one,” they said. “You’ve got five years on me, max.”

He chuckled. “Yup.” He’d found the Solaire Property Management building on Google Maps and tapped the phone number, selecting the Call option and holding it up to his ear.

It rang three times before, “Solaire Property Management, this is Astoria. How may I help you?” The woman had a faded European accent.

“Hi there. My name is Sam Collins. I’m a healer and I found one of your clanmates pretty beaten-up out in the woods behind my property after pickin’ a fight with four other vamps. I patched them up but they’re really not in any shape to be runnin’ home. Healin’ magic tends to make people drowsy. I was hopin’ someone in your clan could come pick them up.”

There was a long pause. “What’s the address?”

Sam relayed his address.

“Tell Tank that Vincent will be there soon,” Astoria said.

“How did you—”

Astoria cut off a laugh before it fully made it out of her throat. “Who else would it be? The only other member of the clan reckless enough to pick an unwinnable fight like that got his head torn off last year.” She cleared her throat. “Vincent is on his way.”

“Thank you kindly, ma’am,” Sam said.

“Thank you for healing them.”

“Just doin’ my job.” Sam hung up.

Tank snorted humorlessly. “Of course she knew it was me,” they groaned, leaning their head against the back of the bathtub. “She’s right. Adam was the only other member of the clan stupid enough to do what I did—except he was worse and got what was definitely coming to him.”

“And you?”

“I will one day, probably. But, this time at least, I was defending my clan’s territory from raiders. Smaller clan in the region who keeps trying to snipe our territory out from under us. Third time this year I've found rogues in my woods.”

Sam hummed in thought. “Listen, darlin’, I know you’re a vampire and your healin’ is good. But you should come into the clinic near the academy campus later this week. Give it three days to see how you’re healin’ up. I’ll be workin’ that day. I’ll stay till the sun’s down so I can check up on you, okay?”

Tank opened their mouth, but no sound came out. “You’re not giving me a choice, are you?”

“‘Course I am. It’s your life. It’s your health. But, as a healer, I have to do my due diligence. And I want to make sure you’re okay.”

They blinked slowly at him. “Okay,” they said. “I’ll see you in three days.”

“See you in three days.”

Sam helped them gingerly pick their way out of the bathtub. Blood clung to the ceramic. He would clean it later. Carefully, he monitored their progress down the stairs and led them to the front door and out onto the porch.

They waited all of ten minutes before bright headlights swung around the corner and a sleek, cherry-red Mustang pulled up in front of the house.

Sam whistled. “Nice car,” he said.

“Vincent loves them,” Tank grumbled.

A man who appeared only a few years younger than Tank climbed out of the car, dressed in a suit with no jacket on. He was tall and pale, with curly black hair almost blue in the moonlight. He braced his elbows on the roof of the car and perched his chin on his hands. An impish smile was already on his face. “What’d you do this time, slugger?” he asked playfully.

Tank muttered some choice words under their breath. The young man laughed.

“You wish,” he retorted.

“Sam, this is Vincent Solaire,” Tank said. “Vincent, this is Sam.”

With a Zip, Vincent was standing on the porch, a hand out. “Hey,” he greeted. “I assume you’re the one to thank for the fact that this pain in the ass is on their feet?”

Tank hissed at him. Vincent hissed back, but he was smiling.

Sam shook Vincent’s hand. “If that’s how you want to put it,” he said.

“Pleasure to meet you. Vincent Solaire.”

Tank groaned and scoffed with a roll of their eyes. “Stop flirting, Vin,” they spat, grabbing Vincent’s wrist and starting to pull him off the porch.

“I just said hello!” Vincent protested, hopping along, off-balance, behind them.

“For you that’s flirting,” they retorted, shoving him at the driver’s side of the car. Vincent rolled his own eyes and climbed back in. Tank hesitated before ducking in. They glanced back at Sam. “Thanks again, Sam.”

He gave them a smile. “You’re welcome, darlin’,” he replied.

They smiled back—just a little one—and ducked into the car. The engine revved and the car sped off, back the way it had come.

Inside it, Vincent turned a playful grin on his clanmate. “‘Darlin’’?” he quoted.

Tank shoved him in the shoulder. “Shut up,” they snapped.

—

William looked up from his desk as two of his progeny—only one in blood, the other in bond—stepped into his office. The younger of the two drenched in blood. He pulled his reading glasses off his nose. “What happened to you?” he asked, concern dripping from his tone.

Vincent snickered and took up a post by the door. Just in case they tried to escape to get out of an awkward conversation again.

The younger vampire plopped down in one of the leather armchairs across the desk from William. “Oh. Y’know. Scared four vampires off our turf and got put through the wringer for my troubles. Typical Monday for me,” they said sarcastically.

William sighed and steepled his fingers. “What are we going to do with you?” he asked with a fond smile on his face.

“I think we should keep ‘em,” Vincent joked. He was rewarded with Tank’s middle finger flashed in his direction. William gave them a disappointed glance, and they shoved their hand in the torn pocket of their jeans, their own expression turning from irritated to apologetic.

William pulled a blood bag out of the mini-fridge built into his desk and passed it over. “Feed, my dear,” he said. “You need it.”

They didn’t protest. Just took it from his hand.

“Once that’s empty, Vincent will take you home. I expect you to clean up and get some rest, do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” they said.

“Now. Tell me what happened?”

Taking a deep breath as they opened the blood bag, they launched into the full story.

—

Tag list: @zozo-01 @shellssstuff @thegoldenlittlerose @darlin-collins

[oscarisaacasimov]

Hozier @ The Anthem (DC), 9/27/23

Madison Cunningham was the perfect opener, the best I've seen in the couple dozen concerts I've been to. Her voice was astonishing live, quite a range with a haunting quality. She had a 3-piece band, more of a rock sound than the acoustic tracks of her earlier work.

ALL LINKS OPEN TO VIDEOS

De Selby pt 1 - the first song of the night. The crowd did a good job keeping quiet during the gentle opener, and then we went right into De Selby pt 2.

Cherry Wine - the ground floor started cheering in the middle and Hozier got flustered.

Uiscefhuaraithe - Hozier did a little explainer before the song.

Damage Gets Done - a duet with Kristen Rogers, one of his backup singers for the tour. Glad to see it played even without Brandi Carlile there.

Almost - always a favorite of mine, but this show they had a long jam session in the middle, featuring solos from different musicians! Also, the video was showing the title of different vinyl records mentioned, to sync with the lyrics.

First Light - glad to hear it, but the placement could have been better? This was one of my highlights from the album, the hopeful ending. I love to do yoga to this song, especially in the sunshine.

The setlist for this night skipped many of the sadder songs - no Icarion, Butchered Tongue, or Who We Are (and Unknown came later). This suited me fine to have a more upbeat concert, but then First Light didn't feel quite "earned."

Take me to Church - the finale. The crowd passed up a pride flag saying "Protect Trans Kids," which he hung on the mike stand and then walked right up to the crowd. Everyone surged toward him trying to touch him, some pressing flowers, bracelets and other gifts upon him. Felt a bit Pentecostal.

Nina Cried Power - the first encore song after a short break, the crowd kept that energy going. Hozier did a little explainer and duetted with Melissa McMillan, his other touring backup singer.

Unknown - the next encore song, followed by singing Happy Birthday to tour musician Ryan Connor.

Work Song - the final encore, plus a surprised duet with opener Madison Cunningham.

So that was THREE encores and THREE duets. Shoutout to the venue as well. I arrived about an hour after doors and went straight to the top floor of the GA area. View and sound were good, plenty of personal space up there, able to sit between sets and pee without losing your spot, pleasantly strong AC, short bathroom line, chill neighbors - ideal for the over 35 crowd.

Over all, the May pop-up show was a better fangirl experience: smaller venue = better view, the long time since the last tour, the chance to meet and great.

But the Unreal Unearth tour was the better concert - bigger stage, more intricate lighting design, the band was more practiced/experimental with the new music, amazing crowd energy.

video sources: https://www.instagram.com/hozierlatam/

https://www.instagram.com/hozier_coicoi_welcome/

[lostvi21]

Tips for writing

I already had another story which I never got to post, since I kept rewriting it into eternity. After forcing myself to take a break from it, I think I finally figured out a way to keep consistently writing a story. So, I thought maybe this post might stumble across a reader who struggles with similar things as I did and I could provide a possible solution without them needing to go through a year and over 10 different versions of a first chapter ending in a failed project. (and admitting that I needed to stop was what hurt the most since I really love the idea I had and maybe I might even try to restart that story, but that's a topic for another post in maybe 2 to 3 years.)

Also Disclaimer: This is only my opinion on the matter and what I figured to be helpful. In the end, it's up to you how you want to write your story and to decide what works for you. I'm just sharing my experiences.

I had a couple of problems which mixed up together until I needed to give up.

First off, I lacked structure. With my first bigger story, I had an idea, a beginning and I knew some major plot points that needed to happen. But what I never knew was when or how the story ended. I just wanted to tell an endless story or figure out an ending on the way. That didn't work for me.

With my current story (which you can check out here, if you're interested) I researched a couple of ways how to structure a story properly. (It was just for fun honestly, but so helpful in the end) I already had, like before a vague idea, and some plot points I wanted to happen. What I did: See if my story would fit into any of these structures and what would happen at which point until the end. And then I found a structure that fit my story (almost) perfectly. After that, I wrote down the plot in bullet points creating my outline for the story.

(Note: Of course, you can take any story structure you find and bend it a little. For example, I decided to go for a three act-structure and decided to skip the introduction part, since I wanted to plunge the reader into the story without heavily explaining what was going on. They would figure it out on the way … )

This means I knew what happened at which moment. And most importantly, I had an ending. Now I had to face my next challenge, fighting my constant urge to rewrite everything. After proceeding with my used-to-way of just writing what comes to my head, I quickly figured out that this wouldn't work. It didn't work earlier and it didn't work now. So, I needed to figure out what was wrong with my approach.

For that, there are multiple options to do so. Either you can ask others for their opinion of what is wrong with your text or try proofreading yourself. I recorded how I read my texts and heard afterwards to the footage while I was reading along (and yes, it sucks hearing your own voice on record, but if you imagine it's another person, it's not that painful anymore, after a while)

Then I had another important realization. I still had no structure in my chapters. The story was now well structured and I knew what I wanted to write the chapter about, but my thoughts were jumping from one thought to another and then back again. To solve this problem, I came up with an approach that still works for me.

Before writing the chapter, I think about what I want to happen in this chapter. For example, in my current story, I needed to introduce the two main characters and they needed to meet. I also wanted to hide some hints on backstory and needed to write about the event that starts the entire story. With that in mind, I just start loosely writing down what comes to my mind. It doesn't matter if it's good or not, since I'm going to rewrite it later on. Once I come to a point, where I completed all of my goals for that chapter, I take what I wrote down and structure the plot into bullet points. Then I take these and write a second version along with the bullet points. This makes sure that my thoughts are structured in the end and that I have a clear storyline to follow.

After that, the last step is proofreading. As already said before, you can ask others to give you feedback or record yourself. Maybe use a grammar program to fix obvious mistakes you've overseen (helps a lot. especially if you're writing in a language that you don't use everyday) In this stage I mostly find some sentences that are hard to read / speak or just some wordings that repeat or don't quite sound right. So I go ahead, mark them and fix them.

And after that, I was by now always satisfied with what I wrote. This method might be a little overkill but it works for me and the most important thing you need to keep in mind: If you'd like to write something, it's supposed to be fun. No matter the way you do it. The process of creating an own story and slowly watching it come alive, that's the feeling that makes me happy and why I keep writing.

Hope you had fun reading and maybe I was able to give you one or another idea on how to write a story. If you want more tips, you can send me an ask or just comment on this post.

[farrahda5hy]

Hey

Favourite fall out boy songs??

Woof…I’ve been a FOB since I was 11 years old circa 2005, so it really hard to say I have an all time favorite song. From an objective standpoint from watching the evolution of the band, I think Infinity on High is the best album they’ve released (this was before SMFS came out. I will have to rerank but I imagine SMFS will be in the top three/for and maybe IOH will be bumped down one or switch with FUTC)

I think the beauty of being a longtime fan is that your favorite song also changes and stays the same as you get older. Because growing up it’s like being a Matrioshka doll of your former selves.

I am always singing “Thriller” because it reminds me so much of being an early teenager since Folie à Deux didn’t come out until the end of my freshman year. But “Gold Shipped Standard” is the song on Folie that’s underrated imo but I think it’s the truth it kinda that era. It’s the weird uncertainty of what’s going to happens it’s the desperation of having a voice but not have the courage or being kept from using it (which being a teen is all about sometimes especially being a teenager of color).

When Save Rock and Roll came out, I was in my sophomore year of college (technically would have been second semester if freshman year), so “Where Did the Party Go” and “Miss Missing You” were very much my jams. I don’t listen to that album as much because….i just don’t. Part of me still see it was the post hiatus album, but I think it’s also just kinda a moment in time that you kinda just think about fondly or something. I think the album being the first post hiatus album gets so clouded that I think I was just so happy they were back….fuck that I just remembered “Phoenix” best song (but also Young Volcanoes because I’m a Pete girlie and I love Patrick’s laugh in that song also umm Rat a Tat Tat.)

AB/AP I was studying abroad, and I was so upset that I thought I wouldn’t be able to hear that album. But I think other than Centuries (because I loved the Song “Tom’s diner” and the bass solo after the bridge still gives me the ASMR tingles to this day and even thinking about it gives me tingles), the song I listened to the most was the “Fourth of July” and “Immortals”. Those are still up there. I didn’t like Favorite Record when the album came out and skipped over it. But I appreciate that song now that I’m older. “Irresistible” has my favorite music video. I love the videos where the band is doing dumb shit, and I just love Andy in that video. Special shoutout to “Twin Skeletons” and “Jet Pack Blues.” FUCK EVERYTHING I JUST SAID UMA THURMAN! Best song! Best bass! Best summer fun! Good video! Yeah. I loved the Boyz of Zummer tour. Had a good time.

MANIA there are no misses on the album honestly. It was all good. But “Sunshine Riptide” is my favorite song on the album. “Stay Frosty”, “Church” and “Hold me Tight or Don’t” are tied for third.

SMFS there are also no misses on the album. Currently, my most sung while I’m out and don’t have music are “Fake Out” “Heaven, Iowa” and “SMFS.” Honorable mentions for “Baby Annihilation”

I literally was able to buy Clandestine Industries merch for the first time, and my inner selves were so hella impressed.

Also for FUCT: “Sugar” hold the #1 space mostly because it was on the radio playing early Saturday morning in May for the first time in Maryville, TN, and Patrick’s voice literally woke me up out of a deep sleep, and I was like “Who is this!?” Literally was so mad they didn’t say who it was because it was Saturday and then the radio hosts on Monday morning played the song again and I was like “it’s the song!” Fun Fact; the hosts were trying to figure out whether the lyric was “loaded God complex” or “loaded gun complex.”

I forgot Take this to your grave because I think at the time I found out FOB had another album before FUTC (I think this was between FUTC and IOH or slightly after IOH) but “Dead on arrival” “Saturday” (which makes me so happy that it’s their like encore or finisher song) and “Calm Before the Storm”

I will spare you the two EPs because this is just memory lane for me at this point unless you’re curious.

[fettuccinewrites]

I AM HERE to give a fic review nobody asked for but i have no one else to talk about it

I have finished CWM couple hours ago and i've been obsessing over it ever since. Firstly would like to point out that cwm was already in my reading list and when i decided to start reading it after sending you that first ask i kept asking myself "why didn't i read it sooner?" cause i do have a severe case of love square brainrot and i have an unresolved passion with ice skating so why haven't i read that indeed.

Then I got the scene in which Adrien's ed is revealed and it was a big OH THAT'S WHY moment for me. I have been recovering from an ed myself for years and i try to avoid the topic because i dont think i'm there yet yk? ANYWAYS. That did make my reading take a little longer than planned, out of caution really, but nothing i couldn't handle (my therapist will be very proud). On that note, I would like to apologize for needing to skip some of the more in-depth ed related parts, but to also congratulate you on the way you handled the subject. I don't usually feel safe reading these type of stories, but cwm was an exception due to your writing and story telling skills.

MOVING ON cause i feel cringey talking about my ed but you really deserve the praise for this

It really is amazing how well you are able to sell rivals to lovers narrative. dymdc and cwm both had me invested in their rivalry. It didn't feel forced, the progression of the relationship had incredible pacing and the reasons behind were believable. Like, writing this trope is so hard because it's easy to fall in traps of the narrative – not making the rivalry strong enough or making it too strong and having to bullshit a reason to end it – but you do it SO WELL. LIKE. i actually don't have words, I keysmashed three times over this so yeah i guess that's what i have to say.

Something I would also like to point out: the choice of performances. bruh. You matched the characters vibes to the choreographies so well. Like I know nothing about the fem skater from the 2010 phantom of the opera but I can see Lila so clearly in her expressions that makes me want to punch her in the face. The way the snake dance has Kagami's seriousness and precision and Luka's edge and style. *chefs kiss*

Now on the note of Moulin Rouge for Adrienette, i feel like keysmashing is not enough i need to bark. The way the story of the performance is a parallel to their relationship AND andrien's condition. Part of me thought he was going to die. I lost cound how many times I cried while reading this and I wish I could have recorded the way i GASPED when they came in twelfth. Had me shaking and tearing up ngl.

The one thing i did not understand tho was why Marinette kept that Gabriel remade their costumes a secret. Like I get Adrien making his piece with the relationship with his bio father, and deciding not to pursue one with him anymore, but Marinette not telling him felt a little shady for me. Maybe I missed something, but I don't think that shutting that door was up to her. I like the ending for Gabriel and Adrien, but idk maybe i just don't like that Marinette kept it a secret from him.

Alright I think I've said enough for one ask holy shit look at the size of this so i'm gonna stop it here. I think I said everything I wanted to say, but if I remember anything else – and I'm still welcome in here –i'll come back to dump more unrequited opinions.

Thank you so much for sharing your amazing work with us 🧡

omg! thank you!! one thing about me is i LIVE for long comments, particularly about cwm (my forever favorite story) so you are always welcome

i figured the ed parts would be difficult for some people to read, so they are 100% skippable & i’m glad you were able to take advantage of that and still enjoy the story ❤️

i love that you actually went and looked up the performances bc i just feel like it enhances the reading experience so much??? moulin rouge felt like the ONLY choice for them, i am soooo glad the parallels were noticed bc it was very much my intention :)))))

re: costumes… really just needed to wrap up that plot line and didn’t know how else to do it haha. I’d spent far too long on it already, and thought of it as like a parting gift kinda thing? A was done with G so (in my head) she didn’t see a reason to tell him, i guess. 🤷🏻‍♀️

anywayyyyy always happy to talk cwm! or writing! or dymdc! or anything else <3333

[rutilation]

Calendar Spotted! Let's Gooooooooo...

A couple months ago, I observed that some chicanery was afoot with regard to the calendars in CSM. Here's a link to that post. But, if you don't feel like reading through all that, I'll go over the salient points:

We encounter our first calendar in chapter 13. The only unusual thing about it is that it starts on Monday. From here on out, every calendar that doesn't explicitly label its days of the week may start on either Sunday or Monday.

In chapter 72, there is a calendar that potentially matches three months from 1997. If the calendar starts on Sunday, as is traditional, then it only matches June. If it starts on Monday, like the calendar from chapter 13 did, then it matches either September or December.

While September was confirmed as the true time frame a few chapters later, there are a couple complications here. Firstly, snow doesn't fall that early in the year in Hokkaido--it starts in October in the mountains, and November in the lowlands. Secondly, the hydrangeas featured on that calendar are traditionally associated with Japan's rainy season, which spans early June through mid-July. In short: the weather, the calendar, and the actual timeline are all in conflict with each other in chapter 72.

The fantastical photo of Denji, Aki, and Power at the aquarium is dated to June 12th, and is shown to us as Aki's tragedy reaches its crescendo on September 12th. This, for me, confirmed that Fujimoto was doing all this on purpose, and wasn't simply ignorant of how snow works.

The calendar from chapter 119 could be from either March of '98 or '99, depending on how it is formatted. In 1998, March started on Sunday, and in 1999, on Monday. The apocalypse is either a year out, or right around the corner.

We have only been given concrete dates whenever the gun devil is summoned, and also to mark the upcoming apocalypse. Calamities are set in stone, and may be recorded down to the second. All other dates, though, are made ambiguous in some capacity.

Maybe this is hinting at CSM taking place in a timewarp, or some such thing; maybe this is all just a weird symbolic conceit. But, whether metaphorical or literal, it's too consistent to not be deliberate.

So, keeping in mind that Fujimoto sees calendars as an opportunity for shenanigans, let's take a close look at the one in this chapter. This time, the days of the week are clearly labeled, and we can see that the month starts on Thursday the 1st. Using March of '98 as our earliest possible starting point, and July of '99 as our end point, the calendar potentially matches October of '98, April of '99, or July of '99.

The '7' prominently emblazoned on the calendar would seem to confirm that it is July, and that the apocalypse is mere weeks--if not days--away. But, there's not many points where a time skip could have feasibly occurred. It couldn't be between 131 and 132; the children in Nayuta's class speak as though the prior chapters' events had just happened, and there's no indication that Asa was in a months-long coma. Perhaps Yoshida kept Denji and Nayuta imprisoned for much longer than we assumed, but neither of them behave like they've spent months in Public Safety's basement, and Nayuta is wearing the same clothes as when she was abducted. The most likely slot for a timeskip, as far as I can tell, is after the end of 133. But, even that doesn't quite fit. Denji and Nayuta's conversation about how he won't transform any more would have happened a lot earlier--devil attacks are quite frequent, after all. And, why would Asa only just now ask why Yoru has been in a good mood, if it's been months since Falling attacked? Finally, Asa is still wearing her winter uniform, but Japanese schools typically switch over to short sleeves on June 1st (Nayuta was already wearing short sleeves, but her elementary doesn't seem to have a uniform in the first place.) If we're trying to create a coherent timeline, it would make the most sense to assume that the calendar from 119 depicted March of '99, that it's currently April, and that we're only a few days out from Falling being summoned.

But... that sure is a very obvious '7,' isn't it? You can't exactly discount it, even if it makes no sense with the timeline as shown (kind of like a September snowstorm.) And the rabbit hole goes yet deeper still: much like the calendar from chapter 72, this one also features some seasonal Japanese flora. While the illustration is very small, there are some hints as to what it depicts: it's a medium-sized shrub with large, showy flowers that have dark petals, and pale centers. To me, it would appear that these are camellias.

There are two species of camellia native to Japan, japonica (椿), and sasanqua (山茶花.) Japonica blooms from January to March, while sasanqua typically bloom from October to January. Of all the flowers Fujimoto could have picked, he picked the one that does not bloom in either April or July.

But wait, there's more! You'll recall that one of the possible months for this calendar was October of '98, which is when sasanqua first blooms. What I didn't mention is that January of '98 matches both 135's calendar, and the start of japonica's blooming period. I left it out because obviously we didn't travel two months backwards in time since 119, right, Fujimoto? But, I cannot stress this enough, this man is messing with us.

To summarize: the calendar is labeled for summer, only makes sense in spring, and is decorated with flowers for fall and winter. Considering how the last ostentatiously surreal calendar was setting up an awful gut punch in the form of chapter 79's cover illustration, I'm on pins and needles waiting to see what this calendar will bring down the line.

[littlemourningstarr]

Attempting to write every prompt on this list! (Part 1/15, DickDami)

- “How did you come up with this?”

“All I’m saying is,” Dick paused, delivering an upper cut to the very untrained man trying to get a hit in, “that I’m a bit tied up now Spoiler, so unless you want to come handle this, I’m not getting my ass across the city.”

He ducked, kicked out and dropped the second man. The third tried to lunge up behind him, but he was quick to drop to the ground, let the guy stumble over him, before he flipped, kicking him in the back and sending him sprawling on the ground.

“I suggest you all stay down,” he said, placing his hands on his hips. There were groans, but none of the men tried to get up- which was a good sign. He crouched down, began the work of securing the men’s hands. He’d have to call it into GCPD and wait for the pick up, then continue his hunt for Riddler-

He was securing the last man when a bike’s engine echoed near him, before a flash of purple flew by, before the bike skipped to a stop. Stephanie hopped off, taking a quick survey of the scene.

“What are you doing here?” Dick asked. As far as he was aware, she had the North End of the city tonight and shouldn’t be anywhere near him.

“Relieving you,” she said. “I called it in already. Babybat needs you.”

Dick frowned, felt his heart pick up. Damian shouldn’t even be out, it was his night off- “Why didn’t he call it in? Is he okay?”

“Uh,” Stephanie waved one of her hands, “he’s fine. Probably. Mostly. Just go, I’ve sent the coordinates to you already.”

Dick kept his frown, and without a word turned, fired a hookshot so he could scale the neighboring building. His bike was only two blocks away.

He was on it in record time, the coordinates already input to the GPS- one of the upscale hotels in the center of the city. He’d be there in fifteen minutes.

He made it in twelve.

His brain was cycling through all the cases Damian had been handling as of late, trying to figure out what had brought him out, and here of all places. He was coming up entirely empty as his hookshot brought him up to the roof and he hopped over the ledge, body tensed-

And was greeted by a single, small table, and Damian sitting at it, holding a nearly empty wine class.

“Took you long enough Grayson,” he said, leaning his chin on his hand. The city lights were casting him in golds and yellows, making him seem to glow.

“What-” Dick paused, glanced around- but it was just them. No threat. No blood. “What’s happening?”

Damian scoffed, stood up and, as Dick watched, drained his wine glass, before setting it on the table. Dick realized there was a bottle there, sitting in ice- and a second, untouched glass.

Damian walked over, stepped right into Dick’s space and reached up, splayed his hands carefully on his chest. “I,” he started- before he paused, took a steady breath. And Dick could see color to his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t sure if it was the wine, or if Damian was blushing. “I thought it would be nice,” Damian finally said, “considering we have been…” he paused again, and then added, very quietly, “something for three months now.”

Damian glanced away, and Dick couldn’t help but grin. My god, Damian was trying to celebrate a- what, month-aversary?

God no one had done that since he was a kid.

“Will you stop grinning,” Damian mumbled, and Dick reached out, got his gloved hands on his waist, pushing into the overly soft fabric of his black turtleneck. He pulled Damian even closer, until they were flush together, Damian’s hands now pinned between them.

“Hard to stop when you’re adorable,” he said, tilting his head a little, unable to stop studying the flush on Damian’s cheeks. “You’re still too young for wine tho.”

Damian scoffed again, rolling his eyes. “Brown selected it for me. I don’t have a taste for them but… the courage was welcome.”

Dick opened his mouth as if to speak, before he clamped it shut. Because courage-

The thoughts died when Damian’s hands slid up over his shoulders, arms wrapping around his neck. He leaned close, and said very softly, nearly against Dick’s lips, “I’ve reserved the entire top two floors. We can be completely…alone.”

Dick’s smile turned a little devilish- and he kissed Damian, softly at first. His mouth was warm as always, and when he flicked his tongue to Damian’s lips, his boyfriend opened so willingly, made a little noise as Dick tasted the ghost of wine in his mouth.

It was overly sweet- Stephanie had picked one Dick would specifically like.

“How did you come up with this?” Dick whispered, as he released Damian’s mouth, let him breathe.

“I… had some help.” Dick smiled, and decided he owed Stephanie a huge thank you for more than her wine choice. Domain squirmed against him, seemed ready to let him go, but Dick released his waist, cupped his face and rubbed his gloved thumbs over his cheeks.

“Not yet babybat,” he whispered so softly, “I’m not done kissing you.”

[crackedramblings]

Dream from 17.7.24

I was in college, taking multiple classes. It was nearing the end of the semester and my energy was low. I was barely holding on to the work required for one class; I was doing the assignments but it was getting harder and harder to focus on it. By the end of the dream I was skipping assignments, or barely completing them, and hoping that it wouldn't count against me too much. On top of that, there were three classes that I had simply stopped attending and I knew I would receive a failing grade for. Since the semester was almost done, I kept debating whether I should drop the classes or just let my record show failing grades. Then in the dream I remembered a previous dream (from years ago) where I had kept taking a certain course and trying to pass it, but I just didn't have the energy to complete it and give it the attention I would have liked. I failed that previous class twice in my dream memories. So it wasn't as if failure was something new to me. I really didn't even care that much.

[violet-shadows]

Missing Piece (Part One)

Series Index | Masterlist

Summary: Cassian and Nesta are happily mated and in love, so why do they feel like something is missing? When a newcomer arrives in the City of Starlight, they learn that their bond is not yet complete. 

Pairing: Cassian x Nesta x Reader (She/Her) (Poly Relationship)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: n/a

A/N:  This one will be a few parts. I’m also kind of wanting to write a poly!Feysand as well. Thank you to the anon who requested this! 

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

The first time Nesta read about mated triads, she felt a startling tug deep within her chest, as though her heart stuttered, skipping several beats. It was over as quickly as it started, leaving her puzzled as she continued to read about the phenomenon. Mating bonds between three souls were rare, but not entirely unprecedented, and functioned quite similarly to traditional bonds. Only a handful of cases had been recorded, but among them, each member of the triad was bonded to the other two. The third mate was not believed to be a competitor or alternative, the text stated, but a missing piece. It was an interesting concept, but Nesta couldn’t figure out why it resonated with her so deeply. 

For days after she read it, the idea of a three-soul mating bond stuck in her head, taking over her thoughts when she was idle. For a brief moment in time, she allowed herself to fantasize about it, wondering what it might be like to have another mate in addition to Cassian. She could practically picture it, as though it were one of Elain’s visions. A petite female nestled between the two of them, perfectly at home in their arms, like a missing puzzle piece. The fantasy went beyond sexual, though she’d be lying if she said it didn’t arouse her. There was an emotional longing as well, as though she was pining over someone non-existent. It was that part of the daydream that made her feel most guilty. Cassian was enough for her, more than enough, now that they had come to know and understand one another. To wish for more felt selfish, perhaps even like a betrayal, and she couldn’t bear the look on Cassian’s face if she told him she felt less than complete. So, she kept the thoughts to herself, resolving to push them from her mind for her own sake, and the sake of her mate.

While Nesta ruminated about the concept of a third mate, Cassian, too, had developed his own secret. At night, when he slept peacefully beside Nesta, his dreams began to take him to new places. At first, it was a laugh, high and bell-like, that sent shivers down his spine. It wasn’t Nesta’s laugh, but it filled him with warmth all the same. The next night, he saw a blurry figure drenched in sunlight, seated on a rooftop patio next to another that he knew to be Nesta. It was a female, the same one as before, and she pulled him in like gravity. When he woke, he was puzzled and consumed with shame. His eye hadn’t strayed since he realized the bond with Nesta, and he certainly hadn’t felt drawn to another like he was his mate. In his sleep, though, the feeling was so real, so instinct driven, that it was hard not to be captivated. The dreams continued, small snippets of a blurry figure he couldn’t quite see. Sometimes, he was watching her from a distance, and other times it felt like he was looking through her eyes, gazing up at a familiar night sky. He knew she was a female, and he knew he felt drawn to her like he was first drawn to Nesta, but that was all.

It wasn’t until a few weeks in, when he dreamt of the mysterious female pinned between him and Nesta, deep in the throws of passion, that the guilt became too much. “I feel like I’m cheating on her in my dreams,” he told Rhysand, pacing his study at the River House. Nesta and Feyre were training, leaving Cassian a rare opportunity to talk to his brother without risking being overheard. 

“Do you feel any differently about Nesta?” Rhys asked cautiously. 

Cassian rushed to answer, “No! Not at all. I love Nesta, she’s my mate.” If one thing was certain, it was that his adoration for Nesta remained as strong as ever. “She’s in the dreams too, sometimes.” 

“It could just be a dream…” Rhysand trailed off, looking contemplative. There was an unspoken “or” that Cassian itched to hear the end of. “Do you remember those two High Fae? The mates that fought in your legion in the war? Bravos and Mikhail, I think their names were.” Cassian thought back to the pair, recalling how unusual it was to see mates fighting side by side in battle, and how they made a formidable team. “They had a third mate, a healer, I think. I met her once, towards the end of the war.” Cassian knew about mated triads. It was a rare phenomenon, and the two males he had commanded were the only Fae he’d ever met with more than one mate. Considering how mating bonds were in the first place, he hadn’t given the concept much thought. 

“What are you suggesting?” Cassian asked, his mind beginning to race.

“I dreamt of Feyre before I met her, and a bond between three is possible. It’s just… something to consider,” Rhys replied. Cassian had gone pale, his mind reeling as he considered his brother’s suggestion. Before Nesta, he doubted he would ever be blessed with one mating bond, let alone two. The thought of Nesta stirred something within him and he asked, “This person, they would be Nesta’s mate as well, yes?” He wasn’t sure how such an arrangement could work otherwise. 

“All the pairs I’ve heard of have been reciprocal, so, hypothetically, yes,” Rhys told him. Something like hope flickered within Cassian’s chest, as if a third mate was more than just a far-fetch possibility. As if it was something he wanted. “Has Nesta said anything?” 

Cassian shook his head. His dreams were something he’d kept to himself, afraid of the hurt they might cause his mate. If Nesta was experiencing something similar, she hadn’t let on. “You should talk to her about it,” Rhys suggested.

“How?” Cassian demanded, his mind supplying hundreds of ways such a conversation could go terribly wrong. “How do I ask her without making her feel like she’s not enough for me? I don’t even know if it’s anything more than strange dreams.”

“Perhaps you could bring it up… casually. See if she mentions anything.”

“Casually. Right.” 

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

“Have you ever heard of triad mating bonds?” Cassian blurted a few evenings later, as he and Nesta enjoyed dinner alone on the veranda. He winced as soon as he said it, realizing the question was far less subtle than he intended. To his surprise, wine nearly shot out of Nesta’s nose as she sputtered, choking on her beverage. Her face had gone slightly pale, and something like unease reverberated down the bond. Cassian’s anxiety grew.

“I have,” Nesta rasped once she had regained her breath. “Why do you ask?”

All of the planning Cassian had done ahead of this conversation went out the window as he struggled for an excuse. When he finally replied, it was perhaps the least convincing lie he had ever told. “No reason…”

“Cassian,” Nesta said his name, her voice unnaturally steady. “Do you have something to tell me?” The General took a deep breath, sending a silent prayer to the Mother that he would be able to confess without upsetting Nesta too badly. 

“I’ve just been having these strange dreams and when I talked to Rhys had brought up the concept. It’s probably nothing. Forget I asked.” Nesta looked lost in thought, her grey eyes growing distant. She was frozen in place, her posture rigid as she gripped her wine glass. “Nesta?” Cassian asked, growing increasingly nervous as the seconds ticked past. “Nesta, I’m sorry. Rhys probably doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Dreams are just dreams sometimes and–.”

“I think so, too,” Nesta cut him off, finally moving to look him in the eye. 

“Think what, sweetheart?” 

“That we have a third mate,” she replied. The admission was a weight off of her shoulders she hadn’t realized had grown quite heavy. It still felt somewhat absurd to say, as neither party had any evidence to support the theory, but something deep within her believed the hunch. Cassian looked stunned, and for a moment she worried she had misinterpreted his words. Then, he let out a sigh of relief and swallowed thickly, nodding his head. 

“I think she’s out there, too,” he said finally, moving to hold Nesta’s hand in his. 

“So,” Nesta gave a watery smile, “tell me about these dreams of yours.” 

The pair spent the next several hours exchanging details and theories. Once it was clear that a third mate changed nothing about their feelings for one another, the two were able to speak freely about their mutual hunch. It wasn’t until their eyelids grew heavy that they retired to their room, both consumed by the thoughts of a mysterious female to whom their souls appeared bound. 

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

Cassian and Nesta resolved to keep their revelation to themselves, reasoning that, even if they had a third, there was no guarantee they would meet her anytime soon, if at all. The thought of being wrong, of never meeting that missing piece, filled Nesta with dread. “I had to wait 500 years for you, Nes. We may have to wait a while before we find her,” said Cassian, ever the optimist, who refused to entertain the possibility that they wouldn’t find their third mate. Rhys had waited years to find Feyre after he first started dreaming of her, and it stood to reason that it could take time for them as well. As the months passed, however, the dreams began to wane. It seemed that the harder they grasped at the idea of a third mate, the more their hold on her slipped. They stopped discussing the subject for the most part, as if talking about it might jinx them, and both tried to put their longing out of their mind. 

The spring after they first began to suspect they were part of a triad, things changed. It had been weeks since Cassian had last dreamt of her, his most recent vision little more than a flash. When he closed his eyes that night and drifted off, however, he was pulled into a new dream, more vivid and clear than ever been before. Whether it was intuition or instinct or the Mother herself, he knew right away he was looking through her eyes. She was on a small balcony, a plain bedroom at her back, enjoying the unseasonably warm breeze on her face. When she looked up, she saw a breathtaking night sky filled with twinkling stars that hung low over the peaceful street below her. A few buildings down, she could glimpse a sparkling river that cut through the city. Cassian woke with a start as the realization hit him, his breath coming in ragged pants.

He knew that sky. He knew that street. He knew that river.

Before he could fully form his conclusion, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder and turned to see Nesta, who looked as unmoored as he currently felt. “She’s in Velaris,” she said, eyes shining with tears, “I saw it too.”

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

Neither Nesta nor Cassian could fall asleep afterward, both wracked with nerves and excitement. They hadn’t discussed what they would do once they found her, afraid to get their hopes up prematurely, and now they were at a loss on how to proceed. “We should confirm things first,” Nesta argued. “Make sure it’s actually her. That it’s actually what we think it is.”

“And how do we do that?” Cassian was pacing, running his fingers through his hair. For a General adept at strategizing, he felt rather out of his depth. Nesta, ever the pragmatist, was the better candidate for planning their approach.

“Well, first we figure out who she is and where, exactly she is… then, we introduce ourselves.” That plan led them to Azriel’s doorstep in the early dawn hours, before morning training had even begun. The Spymaster looked unamused at the intrusion, but let them into his chambers nonetheless. 

“I need a list of newcomers to the city,” Cassian announced, feigning nonchalance as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“Why?” Azriel asked. It was a question Cassian had not thought far enough ahead to answer. 

“Just getting an idea of the city’s growth,” Nesta interjected, her tone light. “Keeping an eye on things…” 

“Why?” Azriel asked again, raising an eyebrow.

“Because we are,” Nesta snapped, growing impatient. “Do you have a list or not?” 

“The only new Fae to arrive in the last month are Madja’s recruits. A couple of healers from other courts came to fill vacancies and train under her,” he replied, observing the couple closely. Cassian and Nesta exchanged a look of excitement and the corner of Azriel’s mouth twitched. “Is this about your third mate?” 

“Our what?” Nesta asked, voice slightly shrill. At the same time, Cassian made a choked noise of surprise. 

“Well, you think you have a third mate and you’re asking about newcomers to the city. I gather you have reason to believe they’re here?”, Azriel surmised.

“How did you— who told— we haven’t told anyone,” Cassian stumbled over his words. 

“Well, you’re not very good at hiding it either…” Azriel said, looking amused. “You really thought I didn’t know?” 

Nesta huffed, “Well, since you do know, you’re going to have to help us.” 

“I’m not spying on your mate,” he replied. Both Cassian and Nesta opened their mouths to argue, but he continued. “First, go find out if it even is your mate. Then we’ll figure out how to keep you from scaring her off.”

“Scaring her off?” Cassian murmured, brows furrowed. 

“Well… being the third mate of the General of the Night Court and Lady Death herself might be a bit intimidating, don't you think?” 

They hadn’t thought of that. 

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

Likes, reblogs, comments, and feedback are greatly appreciated. Please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from my tag list for future fics. Click here to check out my other work.

Taglist: @answer-the-sirens @microwaveallthedemons @judig92 @wolfyland07 @donttellthecats @goldentournesol @mulansaucey @starlit-terror @starrstrucked @bankerfrog @xxoverthinkxx @luv-xoxo @abrunettefangirlnerd

[no-not-without-you-blog]

I'm Coming for You

Here's my Sunday Fic, not part of my Whumptember list! I hope you enjoy it! --Anna

Warnings: Kidnapping, Pregnant Reader, some minor injuries, discussion of child exploitation (non-sexual), Protective Dad Steve (It's a warning.) I hope that covers everything.

Word count: 1459

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Steve was sure he had never gone faster on his motorcycle than he was right now. He ignored every light, weaving through the congested traffic at breakneck speeds, desperate to get home. The trip was a relatively short one but to Steve, it was taking far too long. As he finally pulled into the driveway of your shared home he took a deep breath, feeling a small sense of relief. The warm glow of light pouring from the bay window, the sound of a record playing, even the scent of a pie that you had made. All things that made him feel at home and safe. However, that moment of relief was short-lived. He noticed the doormat was kicked to the side, and the door handle was badly damaged, barely still attached. He ran inside and saw the absolute wreckage of the home the two of you had made together. The music was a 40’s album that you absolutely adored and it was turned up far too loud and was skipping in an unusual spot of the song. Dining room chairs were turned over and one was smashed to pieces. Rugs were bunched up, and lamps and hung pictures were both lying on the ground. Steve’s heart began to race again and he yelled out your name over and over. “Baby, please!” He had run upstairs, looking for any sign that you might still be here, checking every room over and stopping at the one closed door and taking a breath before looking in it. The nursery sat just as pristine as it had when he had left. The mirrored cribs with their soft cloud mobiles gently spinning above them. You had both just finished the room last weekend, Bucky and Sam coming over and it taking all three men hours to get the cribs put together. In the middle of the floor sat a folded piece of paper with his name on it. He shakily picked it up and opened it. Finding a phone number on it, he immediately called it. The line rang twice and then picked up. It was silent for a moment before he heard a rustle and heard a shaky breath.

“H-Hello?” You asked into the phone, tears streaming down your face.

“Oh my god, Baby! Are you okay? Please be okay.” He felt a tear stream down his face from fear, anger, and relief that you were alive.

“Steve!” You sobbed out. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I tried. I fought as hard as I could but it was so risky. I couldn’t risk it.”

“I know, baby. I know you did. You did so good.”

“I tried Steve. He threatened us. I couldn’t risk it. I’m so sorry.” You kept saying sorry over and over, sobbing over the phone.

“Baby, None of that matters right now. You did the right thing. Baby please, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“N-not really. Just some cuts and bruises. My lip is bleeding and I think I broke my wrist. But I’m okay. We’re okay.” You paused for a moment, looking at the woman holding the phone to your ear. “I- I’m scared…”

“I know, baby. I know you are. But I’m gonna find you and bring you home, I promise. You just have to be strong for me, okay. I love you so much, sweetheart. I promise. I’m coming.”

“Steve!” He heard a loud rustling and struggle before he heard you yelling out his name in screams. Rage filled his entire body as he did everything he could to keep from crushing his phone in his hand. He heard the front door downstairs slam open and would have gone into full fight mode if he hadn’t heard Bucky yell out his name and then rush upstairs. The phone line picked back up with the woman on the other end having an accent that he couldn’t quite place, something eastern European. 

“It’s nice to finally speak to you, Captain. I’ve been dying to do so since you came out of the ice. I have heard so much about you for years but to finally speak to you directly, it’s like a dream come true. I know that you may not know my name but you know who I am. Zola kept me hidden and taught me well.”

“Hydra is dead. It has been for years. Why continue to fight a lost battle?”

“Oh I have no lost love for Hydra. I never was a true believer. They were a convenient stepping stone to something far greater. Idealism is great for some, but not me. I saw the flaws in the Winter Soldier program when no one else did. Giving the serum to grown adults and then trying to assert control over them? That will always lead to rebellion. But taking children, born with that serum in their veins, and raising them to do your will? Molding them from the beginning to be the perfect weapon? Perfection. There will be people who will pay hand over fist for their services. I thank you, Captain, for giving me such a wonderful gift.”

“Let me make one thing clear.” Steve’s whole body shook with rage and Bucky listened to the conversation one sided. “You will never touch my children. You may have Y/N but you won’t for long. And you will regret the day you ever laid a hand on her. I will find you and when I do, I will choke the life out of you and I will smile while I do so.”

The woman let out a dark laugh. “You expect me to believe that Captain America, the golden boy, is going to kill me, a woman, in cold blood?”

Steve let out a dark chuckle and smiled. It was so cold looking that it even made Bucky step back a half step. “You must not know me as well as you think you do. I’m no golden boy.  I lied and cheated my way into the military. I disobeyed direct orders and stole government property to rescue a friend. I was prepared to commit suicide to save the lives of people I have never met. I defied and took down the worlds largest intelligence organization with the help of only three other people. I ignored the orders of every nation on this planet to protect my brother and had to go on the run for two years after nearly killing someone I had called my friend. I traveled through time and space and fought against the strongest forces in the universe to keep those I love safe. I have fought more and lost more than you can even imagine and if you think for one second that I won’t kill anyone who threatens the safety of my wife and unborn children than you are more stupid than I thought. You are going to regret ever touching her. I may look like a golden boy but I was forged in battle and blood and I will take back what is mine.”

He hung up the phone and turned on the tracking app that linked to the locket you had insisted upon. He had been so worried when you had started dating that something like this would happen. That someone would find out about you and take you to get to him. So you had Tony fashion a special locket that held a photo of the two of you. Discreetly hidden in that necklace was a tracker and health monitor. He had found himself using it often, just giving him peace of mind on missions. He would pull up the app and see you little blue dot at home, sleeping in your shared bedroom. The heart pulsing with the rhythm of your heartbeat. Right now, your heartbeat was elevated but strong as it zeroed in on your location. He held the phone up to Bucky, who was on the phone with Sam, sharing the address that you were being held at.

“It’s gonna be okay pal. We’re gonna get them back.”

Steve’s nerves settled into an eerie calm. “I know. But listen, this woman… I’m going to kill her. I know that may seem-“

“No.” Bucky shook his head and Steve thought he was going to have to argue with him about this. “I understand Steve. And I’m with you till the end of the line. No matter what. Now let’s go get your girl.”

They had made their way back to their bikes and were kicking them into gear.

“I’m coming baby. I’ll be there soon.”

And with that he raced towards your location. Knowing that he was willing to do anything and everything to keep you and his children safe.

[helliontherapscallion]

I'm sorry for adding on to your pile of requests but I just wanted some family fluff with sbi where all of the siblings are having fun on a road trip or vacation

I don't know if that's specific enough for you if you want a little more detail maybe they're just being really dumb and making stupid videos with each other because that's something my sister and I do a lot

(A/N): I hope you don’t mind that I added Kristin and Tubbo (BASED ON THE CHARACTERS, NOT ACTUAL PEOPLE). Real life AU btw (no covid tho)

Okokok so this is deadass something Philza and Kristin is both dreading and looking forward to

1. They love spending time with their family especially now since yall are getting older and don’t spend as much time together anymore/getting ready to fly the coop

2. Have you met the SBI fam? Chaos incarnated.

After packing, yall set out on your trip to the hotel yall rented for a week or so (about an eight hour drive away from the house)

You and your twin Tommy 100% smuggle Tubbo underneath all of the luggage and a blanket

You’ll just ask them for forgiveness when you’re about halfway through

It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission 

Wilbur and Technoblade catching you hiding the stowaway and blackmailing you both into doing their chores for a few week 

Seating: Phil and Kristin in the front, Tech and Wil in the middle, You and Tommy in the back, and Tubbo in the trunk (it’s a mom van)

Before getting too far into the trip, a gas station is raided for snacks and drinks

Philza raising a brow at the amount of food you and Tommy get 

Philza’s eyes were torn off from the refrigerator in front of him by his wife lightly nudging him. Looking at her in question, she raised her eyebrows and pointed at their youngest kids. It looked like they were just looking at the Monster drinks, so why- oh god the last thing he needed was two already hyper teenagers hopped up on Monster trapped in a car for eight hours. Before he could go over there to stop them, Kristin grabbed his arm. 

“They’re up to something. Listen to what they’re saying.”

He strained his ears to hear what you both are whispering to each other. “...e like this flavor?”

Tommy shrugged, “I dunno. I’ll text him.”

As Tommy texted someone, Phil looked back at his wife. She wore a similar wary expression as they both stared at each other. He nodded in confirmation, “definitely. How do you reckon we confront them?”

He watched as his wife thought for a moment before she sighed and looked at him with a hint of excitement in her eyes, “let’s wait to see. It might be a pleasant surprise.” 

“What? Are you mad?” He eyed his youngest gremlins once more. It seemed that they finally decided on a flavor and are now moving on to the snack portion. He looked back at his wife and felt his heart skip a beat at the small grin on her face. “...fine. Let’s just see what they’re doing after they do it.” Oh, the things he does for love.

He kept a very close eye on you two after that 

You both are on your phones for longer than usual

Texting Tubbo so that he wasn’t lonely 

Tubbo has fun with hiding too, never being bored at all

The only thing that he (and you and Tommy) struggled with was holding in his laughter

You jumped as you felt someone gently slap your shoulder. Turning around, you saw Tubbo’s hand peeking over the backs of the seats. You glanced at your parents in the front seats, they were deep in conversation. Good. You saw Tommy stifle a laugh and pull out his phone to record. 

Tubbo made grabby hands at something but you didn’t know what he wanted, so you decided to mess with him a bit. Smirking, you put your earbuds in his hand. It snaked back underneath the blanket before he threw it back at you and did more intense grabby hands. You put your metal water bottle in his hand. He did the same thing before he threw it back at you. It collided with your forehead with a loud bong sounding throughout the car. Tommy started to laugh loudly and ended the video. You followed suit in the laughter as Tubbo’s hand froze midair and quickly slinked back into his lair.

All noise in the car came to a halt as they all looked behind them (well, Phil glanced through the rearview mirror suspiciously) to see you and Tommy laughing your asses off with you holding your forehead. Through blurred vision, you could see Kristin looking at you with worry and Techno and Wilbur looking confused and mildly annoyed.

“(Y/n) honey are you alright? What happened?” You opened your mouth to respond, but only wheezes came out making you laugh harder. You could hear Tubbo silently cackling to himself in the back, the blanket shaking slightly. Without being able to speak, you only nodded your head and gave her a thumbs up. 

Tommy sent the video into the siblings' group chat and you could see over Wilbur’s shoulder as he watched it before starting to cackle and save the video to his phone. Even Techno got a good chuckle out and saved it to his phone making Phil and Kristin even more suspicious. Well, Kristin was just excited for what you two (four? Was Techno and Wilbur in on it as well?) had planned. Phil could just imagine the chaotic things you had planned. And he did not like what came to his mind.

When the rest stop came eventually (about three hours into the trip), you all left the car to stretch your legs and take care of business

Taking separate ways to walk in pairs (same person they sat next to in the car)

You and Tommy wait until Phil and Kristin leave before getting Tubbo out of the trunk

You three vibe walking along the winding sidewalks for a bit before you come back to the car and get Tubbo back into the trunk

You, however, forgot to use the bathroom so you leave Tommy and Tubbo in the car 

“Fuck, I forgot to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Be quick, I’m not fuckin telling em if we forget you.”

“Pfft, they won’t forget me. Stop joking around.”

With that, you left the car and made a beeline to the bathroom. After that, you went back to the car. Well, where the car was supposed to be. There was no sight of a van anywhere in the parking lot. That asshole, he just let them drive off? He and Tubbo’s probably giggling to themselves in the backseat like school girls. You were only gone for like eight minutes. 

Sighing, you walked over to a nearby bench and sat down, pulling up Techno’s contact and calling him. 

He picked up after a few rings. The second you heard the dial tone stop, you spoke to him, “check the backseat.”

“What? You’re taking a nap, why’re you calling me I’m literally right in front of you.”

“Just fuckin check, Tech.”

In the background, you could hear Tommy snickering to himself. You heard some rustling before Techno started laughing, “Dad, we left (y/n) at the rest stop.”

“YEAH YA FUCKIN DID!” 

You could hear loud laughter from your brothers and muffled cursing from Phil. You heard Kristin tell Techno to hand her the phone. 

“We’re so sorry, we’re turning around right now. We’ll be there in about five minutes. Stay in one place and don’t talk to strangers.”

“I dunno Mom, that trucker looks really friendly. Might do some hitch hiking with him.”

You ended up befriending an old lady when she sat next to you on the bench with her husband. She even gave you some butterscotch and those strawberry hard candies that all older people somehow have but you can never find in stores. Her husband was telling you stories about his younger days when you saw the familiar van pull into the parking lot. Waving goodbye, you thanked them and hopped back into the car. 

After profuse apologizing from your family and scolding Tommy for tricking them, you were on the road again. You glared at Tommy with a small smile on your face, “you fuckin prick. Did you seriously make it look like I was sleeping under a blanket?”

“Yeah, I told you that I wouldn’t tell them if we forgot you.”

“You fuckin dick,” you grabbed a few butterscotches and strawberry candies and handed some to Tubbo after ensuring your parents weren’t looking. He took them gratefully and quickly. You heard him whisper a ‘thank you’ and opened them with plastic crinkling. 

“Wha- are those butterscotches? Gimme some.” He was about to snatch them out of your hands before you moved away from him. “No, you left me at the rest stop. You don’t get any. Do you guys want some? I’ve got butterscotches and strawberry candies.”

After you handed them out to your family, Phil looked at you confused in the rearview mirror, “(y/n), where’d you get these?”

“Oh, I just made some friends with an old couple while I was waiting.”

“You what? What if they kidnapped you?”

“Naw they couldn’t’ve. Ethel has hip problems and Charles was in a wheelchair. They were chill anyway.”

“...Just- just don’t do that again.” “Well don’t forget me again at a rest stop three hours away from home and you got yourself a deal.” 

After a while the family was chill again and everything was back to normal

It was getting closer and closer to when Tubbo would make his reveal

You three agreed that Tubbo would just wait for the perfect time 

That time came about three hours later when Phil and Kristin was asking everybody where they should stop for food

“So kids, we have three options: McDonalds, Wendy’s, and Arby’s. What do you want?”

“Wendy’s is obviously the superior choice.” Tommy proclaimed and you nodded in agreement. You leaned back and whispered to Tubbo, “now would be a great time.” You pulled out your phone to discreetly record the front seat. 

“No it isn’t. Arby’s is you heathens.” Wilbur chimed in, glancing at his twin for back up. Techno shrugged, “I’m fine with anything as long as it’s edible.”

“I’m more of a fan of Wendy’s myself!” Tubbo’s muffled voice chimed in from his makeshift hut in the trunk. You snickered as Kristin whipped her head around to look at the back seat and Phil’s eyes snapping up to look at you through the rearview mirror. 

“...Tubbo?”

“Hi Mrs. Tommy and (y/n)’s mum!” You flipped the camera around just in time to catch Tubbo poking his head out of the blanket and grin sheepishly at them. You panned over to Tommy’s ruby red face as he was holding in his laughter before flipping it back to the front. 

“You absolute gremlins, this is what you’ve been hiding?” Phil scolded you and Tommy, his knuckles whitening from gripping the steering wheel. You could see his shoulders bouncing slightly with a slight strain in his voice from holding in chuckles. 

“Honey, have you been in the trunk this entire time?” 

“Yeah, but it’s quite comfy back here! Tommy and (y/n) gave me pillows and some snacks. Got some stretching done at the rest stop.”

“You’ve been back there for six hours?” Phil’s incredulous voice asked. 

“Yep! Don’t worry, I had a lot of room. Anyways, my vote goes to Wendy’s.”

The car was quiet before Kristin started to laugh, “Wendy’s it is. See Phil, I told you it was gonna be a pleasant surprise!”

Tubbo sat between you and Tommy in the backseat for the rest of the trip 

Techno and Wilbur saying that they knew Tubbo was back there but left out the blackmail part

There was no way they’d risk losing their little siblings doing their chores for them for a few weeks

At the hotel, the rooming was the same as the seating in the car

You, Tommy, and Tubbo having the time of your lives alone in your hotel room

Jumping on the beds, checking for hidden cameras and double sided mirrors (well, that doesn’t sound fun, but you had fun doing it), truth or dare, racing each other down the halls at night time, the works

B L A N K E T  F O R T S (but always cleaning up the hotel room in the mornings bc yall are respectful to the staff)

Getting plenty of videos of you guys ding dong ditching Techno and Wilbur’s room

Them getting tired of it so they tell Dadza and Momza and they tell you to stop : (

Walking around aimlessly around the hotel hallways with Wilbur and Techno

Going up and down elevators aimlessly 

Pulling an all nighter with Tommy and Tubbo on the last day

Philosophical late night talks when yall hardly know what you’re saying anymore (and becoming closer than ever before)

“Tommy, Tubbo?” You three were currently sitting on the balcony chairs looking out at the empty parking lot and the occasional cars driving by. It was about three in the morning and you guys were determined to stay up all night. “If you think about it, a hotdog is puréed meat in an intestine casing. When we eat the hotdogs, we turn it back into puréed meat. It eventually goes through your intestines which makes you the hotdog for a solid couple of hours.”

“...What the fuck, (y/n).”

“No no, they’ve got a point. Don’t you understand, Tommy? We are hotdogs.”

“...I’m starting to think you guys need sleep. Speakin nonsense.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you two reckon we’re alone in the universe?”

“What do you mean, Tubbo?” You glanced at the male next to you and raised an eyebrow. He was looking up at the stars with furrowed brows. 

“Like, do you guys think there’s life out there. Looking down at us right now wondering the same thing.” 

You hummed and looked up at the stars. They were twinkling down at you with the occasional shooting star blazing by. Red lights from far off satellites being the only visible sign of humans in the dark expanse of space. “I think so. I mean, nobody knows how big the universe is. You never really know.”

“Honestly I don’t know what’s scarier, being the only lifeforms and being completely alone or having things out there that we don’t know about.” 

You sling an arm over your twin’s shoulders, “that doesn’t matter. As long as we have each other, we’ll never be alone. We’ll face whatever the universe has in store for us together.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know, I just hate it when people only see me as the loud annoying one. It really gets to me sometimes and I don’t know what I should do about it. Fuck, even Wil and Tech see me like that.”

“Toms, fuck them. They don’t know you like we do. You’re caring, ambitious, and brave.” 

“Yeah, don’t listen to what they say. We’ll prove them wrong when we form our own nation one day.”

Tommy’s sullen expression slowly melted into a smile, “yeah, I’d like that. You’d be the president.”

Tubbo grinned back at Tommy, “and you’ll be my trusty vice president and (y/n)’ll be our Secretary of State. We’ll rule together.”

“Our nation would be a place for people to escape tyranny and injustice. Somewhere where men could live free, you two would be amazing leaders.”

“What do we call it though is the question,” Tubbo hummed in thought.

“How about ‘Manberg’?”

You looked at your twin with half lidded, exhausted eyes, “I like it, but it needs more… pizazz. How about L’manberg?”

You watched as he smiled widely at the stars, “it’s perfect.”

Watching the sunrise together on the balcony wrapped in blankets

Sleeping on the rest of the way back home

Best sleep of your life

When you wake up (about an hour or so away from home), you see that there’s blankets over you three and you had your head on Tubbo’s shoulder, Tubbo had his leaned up against the seat behind him, and Tommy’s cheek was squished against the window

You stretch out your limbs a bit trying not to disturb the two beside you

Checking your phone to see pictures of you three sleeping sent into the family group chat with Kristin replying with a bunch of heart emojis

You send the videos and pictures you took along the way of you, Tommy, and Tubbo doing stupid things in the hotel room and in the car

If you looked in the middle row, you could see Wilbur watching the scenery pass by out the window with his earbuds in

Techno is reading one of his books (you have no idea how he doesn’t get car sick)

Phil and Kristin are talking lowly to each other holding hands on the center counsel 

Soft radio music is playing in the background

Life is good

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

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[sugarushsuga]

"I'll drive you to the hospital" - #44

Genre/Au's: Fluff; Drama; Friends to Lovers

Paring: RM x Reader

Words count: 2.642

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Cursing; Mentions of building on fire;

Author note: Thank you so much Ash @sugafreeagustdfor the request, this was a crazy rollercoaster ride as you know. From the original 600 I had on the day you requested it, I only kept a few abstract ideas and the pink hair with the undercut.

Milestone drabble game | Masterlist

You met Namjoon on the first year of university. Somewhere in the first semester, of introduction to modern arts. An obligatory class for all students aiming to someday work with any form of art.

You came in right as the professor was walking into the room, Namjoon came late and sat behind you. He was clumsy -still is and you just take it as an essential part of him- he dropped his books when he opened his bag, papers flying everywhere, his pencils rolling down the steps where the chairs sat on the auditorium like room. You, still, aren’t really sure, but you think he hit his head four times on the back of your chair while picking up his stuff. Dropped his books three more times before the professor asked him to stop whatever he was doing and just listen to the class.

To your surprise he did that, sat on his chair, with his material scared all over and just listened to the class. It made you giggle. Back then his hair was long and messy, his thick framed glasses gave him a goofy look even more when paired with his clumsiness.

When the class was over you helped him to pick up his material and offered to let him borrow your notes if he needed. He accepted, even though he had recorded the whole class in his phone. Those notes were his chance to talk to you again.

Lucky to him, one of your close friends fell in love with Seokjin, a childhood friend of his who was studying business in a neighbor university and so you started to hang out. You’ve learned that the same amount of clumsiness Namjoon had in him was balanced with his talent for lyric writing and music producing. He was also an underground rapper. A very talented one. His goal was to start entertainment company with Seokjin and Yoongi, a very quiet and grumpy looking guy you’ve seen around uni.

Namjoon was also great with girls, actually he wasn’t that great, and still isn’t. He just had many girls wanting to go out with him due to his talent as a rapper and music production, and he did go out with many girls and his relationships never lasted much, for one reason or another.

A decade late you stand in the parking lot of Namjoon’s fancy condo as you see fire man’s trying to control the fire in one of the apartments.

The loud sirens and flashing lights making your heart skip one beat after the other, your eyes searching on the distance for the pink haired man you call best friend. People run from the doors of the building in any and every possible way. Some do it alone, others grouped with their families, caring their children, running scared, crying, some are calm, walking. But none of them is Namjoon. You have to stay behind the safety zone, but every passing second has you wanting to run inside the burning building.

Cold hands hold you by the shoulders and you jump scared. “Where is he?” Yoongi asks, voice agitated, the first time you hear it since melting the man.

“I- I don’t know” your voice fails you as you shake your head.

Seokjin pulls you into a tight hug.

Yoongi saw the news about the fire as soon as it started. The condo is known to have many celebrities living on it and to be very high end, so as soon as the fire station was called for the case the news was out.

Five more minutes go by where the three of you look for your friend and can’t find him in between the people who are out or leaving the building. The fact that, as the seconds pass the number of people coming out diminish has your heart shrinking inside your chest.

You don’t know when you start to cry but fat tears leak from your eyes. The sound of explosion in the upper floors of the building have you hiding your face against Seokjin’s chest and Yoongi joins the hug, he shakes a bit, and you know he is also fearing for your best friend as cold sweat run down your back.

Seokjin’s phone buzzes non-stop on his pocket, probably other friends, media and stakeholders from the label wanting to know any news about one of the main producers of the company. After all Namjoon is not only one of the nation’s biggest rappers, but also the creator of the country’s biggest boyband.

When Seokjin’s phone stops buzzing Yoongi starts, and then yours. When you look at it you see Namjoon’s old photo, he is smiling with his eyes closed and with blue hair going on. With trembling hands, you answer the phone.

“Joon?” Your voice is just a whisper, you can’t hear anything besides the loud thumping of your heart in your ears and the chaos happening.

“Y/n?” You think you hear his voice saying your name, but you aren’t sure.

“Where the fuck are you?” Seokjin is hysterical on the phone that now is in his hands.

Yoongi keeps holding you as he pays attention to his older friend on your phone, your thoughts are a mess, and you don’t want to know what is being said but you also do. The worst option and scenarios run through your head, what if’s that you don’t want to think just pop up on your head making your fear grow and your body get colder.

You don’t hear what Seokjin says or what Yoongi asks you when he looks into your eyes moving his mouth, you just nod at him, and his arms are unwrapping themselves from your body, is so much colder now. Seokjin starts to walk, and Yoongi is following, you try to do the same not knowing if your body is even able to do it.

The three of you walk around the people, cars, ambulances and fire fighters towards the recreation area of the condo, from the distance you can see some groups of people and there is an unmistakable pink hair among them. You want to run but your legs that barely keep you up don’t obey.

It seems like a year before you reach him. Yoongi is the most rational he does a body check on Namjoon, to see if he is not injured and asking question to see if the man is okay.

“… got scared and kept trying to go back to the apartment, I had to carry him fifteen floors down and once we finally got here, he bite me.” Namjoon explains, he is probably talking about Rapmon the grumpy white American Eskimo is sitting on the floor by his leg.

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand you sob, crying harder now. He is fine and in one piece but still you can’t stop crying. Not sure if is from relief or from the scare you clench your fists on Namjoon’s shirt when he hugs you against his warm sweaty chest.

Probably is the fading adrenaline that makes your knees go weak as your vision turns blurry.

“Y/n!” three man call in a far distance.

There is a bright light and an unknown person looking at you when you open your eyes. You feel sightly dizzy, confused to your whereabout.

“Y/n?” Someone calls your name.

Is the unknown person, as your vision clears you manage to recall your surroundings, trying to sit up the world spins and again three voices call your name.

At the open doors of the ambulance, you can see a worried Seokjin, a tired Yoongi and disheveled and safe Namjoon. Sighing you rest back.

The paramedic takes your pulse again after asking you a few questions to make sure you are okay and just fainted out of nervousness. She lets you go but suggests you go to a hospital if you feel lightheaded again.

Yoongi helps you down from the ambulance and you see the fire man are collecting the hoses and cleaning the area. “They managed to end the fire while we came to meet Namjoon.”

“How long I was out?” You ask still a bit confused.

“Maybe for five minutes.” Seokjin says pushing his hair back as he types on his phone non-stop.

“I’m sorry.” You say looking down, upset for worrying your friends on such moment.

“The most important is that everyone is fine and safe.” Namjoon offers hugging you to his side. “How did you guys get here?” He asks looking at each one of you.

“Car.” Yoongi replies curtly.

“No shit?”  Namjoon asks.

“We came together.” Seokjin point to himself and Yoongi. “Y/n, was already here?” He suggests thinking about the fact and not understanding it. “How did you come so fast? Did you hear the news on the radio? Were you already on your way here? Because your route from work to your place is the other way…”

“Eh I-” you search inside your messy head for something to say.

“What does it matter?” Namjoon cuts in glaring at his friend. “I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to go back to my place, the fire was three floors below mine, I’ll have to wait the fire fighters clear the building before I can see if my place was damaged or not, I’ll need somewhere to crash for a few nights.”

“A hotel is a place.” Seokjin says not looking up from his phone screen where he types nonstop again.

“Rapmon is not nice to Holly, if you have somewhere to let him you can stay with me.” Yoongi offers, taking a step to the side when the grumpy dog lifts one of his cheeks to the man.

“Yoongi he is scared, I can’t just leave him somewhere, plus where would I be able to leave him at this hour?” Namjoon caresses his dog’s head who barks at him.

“Don’t even look at me, I’m not going to take care of that feral thing!” Seokjin looks up from his phone. “And you are not taking him to the company, no way that beast if going near any of our expensive equipment, I still wonder how he doesn’t destroy all those expensive shit you call art.” Seokjin mumbles the last part as he puts the phone in his ear making a call.

“Hm… I can stay with him if you’d like. You know my place is not big like yours but, there is a pet friendly area in my condo, and we are allowed pets there. I’d just have to get him some food. I even think he likes me.” You kneel down to caress the dog, who seems to roll his eyes at you.

“You mean, he is not mean and doesn’t growl at you.” Yoongi says, “he probably doesn’t even likes Joon, just tolerates his presence.”

You laugh.

“What?” Seokjin asks joining the conversation again. “I already calmed the hearts of all entertainment world.”

“And what about, my homelessness situation?” Namjoon asks pushing his hair back and showing his undercut.

You take a deep breath focusing back on the white dog with smoke dusted fur.

“I don’t care about your homelessness situation.” The man jokes. “No, seriously, just go to a hotel and rest, I asked Dan to free all your schedule for the week so you can rest and figure your living situation out.”

“Thanks.” Namjoon hugs his friend who pushes him away.

“You smell like smoke!” Seokjin complains. “You need a shower.”

“And a bed too.” Namjoon laughs and wipes his face with the hem of his shirt, once again you look away.

“Okay, so I think we have a plan?” Yoongi asks. “Y/n will house the mad dog, I’ll drop Namjoon in a hotel and Seokjin at home and we’ll all go to sleep?”

“Hey? Drop me in a hotel?”  Namjoon complains.

“Hm, you don’t want to go to my place and being honest I don’t want you there to cockblock me. You have lots of money to pay for a hotel stay, I’m not even suggesting a really expensive one. And you’d also have privacy to…”

Namjoon quickly covers Yoongi’s mouth with his hand. “Okay, okay I got it. So, we have a plan.”

“Great!” Seokjin slaps his hands together. “Then let’s get on moving, tomorrow will be a hell of a day.”

As the guys start to move you stand up and the world spins again, Namjoon is quick to hold you by the elbow preventing your fall. You grasp at his shirt once again and a cold shiver runs down your back.

“Okay, new plan. I’ll drive you to the hospital and then I see what I’ll do.” Namjoon says, warm breath hitting your face.

You are so concentrated on his plump lips so close to you that you miss the smirk on Yoongi’s face as he drags Seokjin away in the direction of his car, as the man tries to argue something in uncomprehensive words.

The walk to your car is quiet, there is a lot of noise all around, paramedics, lots of people screaming, crying, fire fighters, friends and family looking for one another. But everything is a blur to you, Namjoon has his arm around your waist, keeping you steady and close. Rapmon walks by his other side growling at people that pass by too close to his content.

Once by your car you pass the keys to him, he unlocks the car and opens the back door letting Rapmon get on and secures his leash on the back sit. You get on the passenger’s side and buckles up. Namjoon gets in the driver’s side, closes his door and lets his head fall on the steering wheel.

“You have no idea how much you scared me when you fainted.”

You look at his side profile, strong and tight jaw, he is angry. His face is sweaty and dirty from the dark smoke he had to walk through.

“I was scared!” You say almost hysterical. “You weren’t coming out, I thought…” your voice comes out chocked as your eyes fills with tears once again.

“No, no, no!” Namjoon pulls you into a hug, nuzzling your neck. “Don’t cry. I’m here, I’m fine, okay?”

You nod against his neck on the awkward position, not wanting to let go yet. Taking deep breaths of his sweaty and smoke smelling body you let go once your eyes are not filling up with tears anymore. He dries the couple of stray tears that fall down your cheek.

“I wish we were having this conversation on the comfort of my place, just the two of us, without any craziness around.” He caresses your cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah, me too.” You half laugh half sob.

“Y/n I’m really going to drive you to the hospital.” He declares as he starts to fix the mirrors and his sit.

“Joon, I’m fine, it was just…”

“Y/n, please.” He interrupts. “I need to be sure you are fine, also is a great way for us to be sure about it all, don’t you think?”

Namjoon looks and sounds tired. His eyes are worried about you, the day had been really long and even though you just want to go home, you know he is right, so you nod.

“Good, now let’s go get you checked up and find out if Seokjin is only going to freak out or if he’ll rip his hair out too.”

“Why would he do that?” You ask confused as he carefully drives the car to the condo’s exit.

“I’m sure he will have a major freak out when he learns that we are together.” Namjoon takes your hand in his. “But if you happen to be pregnant, I’m sure he will rip his hairs off upon learning he’ll be an uncle.”

100wtsily - Masterlist

Feedback is always appreciated.

Ⓒ 2022 Sugarushsuga, do not copy, translate or repost.

[4dtk]

he's gone soft!

hi can u tell i love cats? and i also love hesitant cat owners who eventually warm up to their cats <3 got inspired by grumpy dads who eventually starts cuddling and cooing at the cats they adopted lol. also, adopt don't shop!

"you... you want what?" megumi asks, putting on his uniform as you scrolled aimlessly on your phone.

you were sure he heard you since he was just a metre away from you, but even you knew that the boy had hearing problems sometimes. you could listen to the pleads of his divine dogs at the mention of another pet, curling up to you as a way to win back your heart.

"can we get a cat?" you ask again hopefully, scratching at the white dog's ears as a way to calm their whining while he buttons his top. you're prepared for his reply, anyway, having asked him about this for the longest time.

he sighs, too used to the black and white fur decorating his already messy bed. plus, he wouldn't want to add another animal to the mix, knowing how much he adored his dogs.

with megumi's sigh and delayed answer that never came, you shook your head to your question, putting on a smile so you could head out to a mission without facing your feelings.

"it's okay, babe, i was just trying my luck," you kissed his cheek as you walk past, holding out a hand for him to take. megumi lets out another sigh before deactivating his divine dogs, taking your hand hesitantly as you met up with gojo-sensei just outside the campus.

the exorcising was an easy job since it involved several grade three curses and a terrified child. still, it was nothing uncommon to see in a place where kids willingly skip into abandoned scary buildings on a dare.

"come. let's go somewhere," megumi says out of the blue, dragging you by the hand once you bid goodbye to the kids. you had no idea where the destination lay, only getting grunts and hums from the boy whenever you questioned him of the sudden detour.

the meows coming from inside the building shocks you, instantly bringing a smile to your face as you peeked over the display shelves and products on sale. without much thought, you entered as quietly as you could, greeted by the friendly receptionist with a grin on her face.

"hi! how can we help?" you were so immersed in the cats playing around, as well as the several others in their cages, that you don't hear your boyfriend entering and muttering something that makes you drop your jaw even more.

"we'd like to adopt a cat, please," megumi nods, taking your hand once again as you do a speechless double-take to your boyfriend and back to the receptionist. your puzzled face was apparent, but you lose it all once you see the cats running around in the shelter while she finishes up a document on the computer. soon, she stands, guiding the two of you around the place as she points out some of the dashing felines they had rescued.

"hi! hello! what a handsome boy!" you switched to a baby voice as a cat came up to your hand at the entrance of the cage, rubbing against it affectionately.

megumi watched as you greeted the many different cats, giving them nicknames of your own while cooing or making faces at them. he could only smile gently, letting you pull him every time you saw another quote-unquote 'handsome lad'.

you sigh dreamily, staring at the many cats with love in your eyes, scanning over those you interacted with over the last half 'n hour. as megumi reaches forward to point at one, the receptionist interrupts as if she's just recalled something.

"crap, i forgot to show you our older cats. they're lovely, although they might be less active and would rather chill in the sun," she explains as she walks.

"we don't have many elderly cats here, but they deserve a life with loving owners such as yourself as much as the youngins in here," she smiles, scratching one behind the ear.

you smile in reply, reaching over to pet them carefully. so fragile and wise, but they still looked charming, save for the energetic bursts that the younger cats had.

one cat caught had your eye, despite its shyness and apprehensive nature. she warmed up to you in a heartbeat, claiming your hand as a safe space after a good sniff. she purrs in an instant, headbutting your hand repeatedly as a gesture of affection.

"oreo doesn't interact with our visitors much," she says, "is she the one?"

"oreo... because she's black and white?" megumi asks, not exactly impressed with the name.

"you got it."

"yes, her," you say, cooing yet again with a voice ten times higher than the one you use with his shikigami.

the boy doesn't comment, tugging on you before you could lose yourself in the cat's eyes any longer. with a last flying kiss, you depart from oreo with a grin on your face.

"now, have you taken care of cats before? i'm sure your boyfriend here has more experience with dogs than he does with cats," you look at her in surprise, giggling at the assumption she made.

"how'd you know that?"

"just a hunch." megumi grunts again at the observation, not denying it as you answer her question.

"i have- had a cat back home. i couldn't fathom death again, so i never adopted another one," you frown, signing the papers with ease as you multi-tasked, "but i mean, this man is pretty fetching and a keeper, so it'll be nice to care for a cat together."

the two of you joke like old friends as the raven-haired boy blushes at the compliment, squeezing your hand in response.

within a few minutes, oreo was under your care, completing the process with a few toys, a scratching post as well as some food for the black and white cat.

you spent the whole evening with the new family member in your and megumi's shared room, getting oreo warmed up to the new environment and getting her to do a few tricks. she tired out quickly, but you don't mind as you lay on the floor with her, completing homework like it was nothing.

you had to retire, sometime and somehow as megumi urged you to shower, assuring that oreo wouldn't go anywhere.

you kept the shower short, regardless, dressing back up in record speed before coming face to face with megumi stroking oreo's fur as she curls up on his lap. he mumbles to her, bouncing his legs lightly as the cat rests her head on his calves.

"i just wanted to see (y/n)'s smile, but i guess you're pretty cute too," the corners of megumi's lips turn up at the soft meow from oreo, bending down to kiss her on the head.

"careful, hotshot, i might get jealous," you say, startling the poor boy. oreo doesn't give a shit, snuggling further into the warmth of his legs as he's stuck in the position on the floor.

"are cats always this clingy?"

"oreo might've had a rough time at her previous home, so she's glad to have someone to curl up against. they usually take longer to warm up to new owners but... she's a wise soul!" you laugh, squatting down to peck megumi on the lips.

"thank you."

"for what?" megumi's hand naturally rests on your thigh as you sit down beside him, while your head find its spot on his shoulder.

"for adopting a cat. for giving oreo a home, even if you like dogs a bit more."

he hums, "i like all animals, but dogs on the scale are a little bit higher than everything else."

he turns to you, causing you to lift your head off of your resting place.

"but i think if my love likes cats then, i'm willing to bump it up the scale to match it with my love for dogs."

you shove him lightly, laughing softly at his attempts at flirting.

"did gojo-sensei ask you to say that?"

the answer is clear when he rolls his eyes with a blush on his pale cheeks, but engages you in a deep kiss either way, smiling and speaking through it.

"he did but, i think it's pretty true when it comes to you."