#The worm especially took me forever I hate that worm

[octylish]

Ready, Steady, Roll!!

[timbourinedrake]

'I was here, I was right here. I was right here and I was screaming and shouting, and none of you could see me. Why couldn't you see me?'

'I waved and jumped and screamed and none of you even looked. Why didn't you even look?'

This is part 1 of 2, inspired by my favourite scene from The Haunting of Hill House and also Under the Red Hood. Jason's death is like a little worm living in my brain and I can't get enough of it. This took absolutely forever because I hate colouring and backgrounds and ESPECIALLY hate doing them together, so this was a first for me. I kinda gave up near the end because I want to get started on part 2 which will come...eventually.

[determinedwriter]

My Little Hawk (Tony Stark x Daughter OC)

Title from Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens

Content Warnings: sickness, seizure, vomiting, hospital stay, medical procedures

Tony raises Ro from birth AU

•

Tony

Ro has been under the weather lately. It started with just mild headaches, but they’re getting worse. She tells me she’s been getting chills. I checked her temperature and she has a fever, so I assume it’s just a cold, maybe the flu.

I put her down for bed not too long ago and now I’m working on a car and doing some tune ups when I hear little footsteps enter the garage.

“Do I hear a little gremlin?” I tease, coming out from under the car. “What are you doing up?”

She frowns, looking pale and clammy. “I don’ feel good, Daddy…”

“Oh baby, let’s get you more medicine.” I coo.

“I don’t like it. It’s icky.” She complains.

I card my fingers through her hair and kneel in front of her. “I know, mini. But you have to take it so you’ll feel better.”

“I don’t feel better yet…” Ro pouts. “When is it gonna work?”

I sigh. “Soon. Come on, let’s go back to bed. I have something else that might help you feel better too.”

I take out a project I’ve been working on, looking at the glow in the dark aromatherapy and voice commanded stuffed bear with Jarvis installed to help monitor her breathing and heartbeat while she sleeps to keep my mind at ease.

She smiles weakly when she sees it, hugging it to her chest. “Th…th…tank you, Daddy.”

Ro doesn’t quite have her th sounds down yet, still having a baby voice. I’m gonna hate when it goes away. She’s growing up too fast.

Rubbing her eyes, Ro sways on her feet. “Mmm…feel sick…”

I hate seeing her like this. It breaks the heart I didn’t think I had. “I know. I know, hon. It’ll be better soon. I promise.”

She suddenly vomits all over the bear and the front of her ninja turtle pajamas, immediately bursting into tears. “I’m s-sorry, Daddy!”

I put the bear aside and scoop her up in my arms. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay. Don’t be sorry.”

“I ruined it…” She sniffles, pointing at the bear.

“I’ll fix it.” I reply. “Daddy fixes things, remember?”

Ro nods. “Uh huh…I ‘member…”

I kiss her head. “Let’s get you into a nice bubble bath, huh? And fresh pjs.”

She snuggles into me, probably staining my shirt with vomit, but I don’t care. Some things are more important than the grossness that comes with parenthood. Raising a six year old tends to cross into gross territory often. Especially when your six year old likes to make mud pies and play with worms.

And eat spaghetti with her hands. It took forever to get her to use a fork. It wasn’t even that she didn’t know how. It was that she didn’t want to.

I love that kid to death.

She barely has any energy in the bathtub, barely able to sit up straight while I gently scrub her body, trying to relax her by massaging her scalp with shampoo and conditioner, washing it out with warm water and brushing her hair softly.

Her eyes droop and close, fighting to stay awake. I quickly take her out of the bath and help her dry off, dressing her in a pink nightgown with little white polka dots on it.

I’m barely able to brush her teeth due to her fatigue, but I manage, carrying her to bed and taking her temperature.

It’s gotten higher. I thought the medicine would’ve helped by now. “Get some sleep, bambina.”

“Can you hum Nonna’s song?” She asks with a yawn.

I grin. “Yeah, of course I can.”

Anything for you, Ro.

She falls asleep while I hum the song my mother used to hum to me. I think it’s something she made up. I never heard any words, just the humming and vocalizing. It always put me right to sleep.

I’d honestly forgotten all about it up until Ro was born. Her birth reminded me of my own childhood and brought the song out of me as I held her for the very first time, tiny hand wrapped around my finger, head against my chest, content and quiet.

That’s when I knew she was my girl.

She wakes up in tears again, fever not going down. Her head hurts and she’s complaining of a stiff neck. Poor baby.

I’m not able to give her more medicine so I just put a cold cloth over her head and try to cool her down. She’s whimpering and shivering in my arms as I cuddle her in her little twin bed.

I drift off once she starts to sleep, waking up maybe a few hours later to see her shaking, back turned to me.

“Oh baby, it’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll visit the doctor tomorrow morning, alright? I’ve got you. Don’t you worry, Ro.” I coo.

I gently flip her towards me so I can see her face, a chill running down my spine when I realize her eyes are half closed, vomit on her lips as she convulses. She’s not shivering, she’s seizing.

“Oh God.” I gasp. “Okay…okay, it’s okay. Jarvis, is this what I think it is?”

“It appears that the young miss is having a seizure. I recommend you get her medical attention as soon as possible.” He replies.

My stomach lurches. “Do I move her?”

“Lay her on her side and wait for the seizure to end.” Jarvis instructs me.

Watching her continue to convulse is hell. She’s so tiny and pale and vulnerable. She shouldn’t be going through this. What is wrong with my kid?

Once the seizure ends, I hurriedly carry her to the car and drive right to the hospital where they take her in right away and start to do tests.

Ro comes to, blinking confusedly at her surroundings. “Daddy?”

“I’m right here, baby.” I reassure her. “You’re safe.”

“Where are we?” She asks.

“The hospital. But you’re okay. The doctors are gonna figure out how to help you, sweetheart.” I tell her.

Ro frowns. “I thought the medicine was gonna make it better. You promised…”

My heart sinks. “I know, bambina. I know…I’m so sorry. I thought it would. I’m sure the doctors will find out what’s wrong and give you brand new medicine. Then you’ll be good as new.”

She nods sadly. “Okay, Daddy…”

It both warms and breaks my heart that she trusts me so wholeheartedly. I will let her down. I already have. I hate to break that trust when she’s so purely good and innocent and young.

But I ruin relationships. I self-destruct and hurt the people around me. It’s inevitable. I don’t know why I thought it would be different with Ro. Why I thought keeping her was a good idea.

I love her more than anything in the world, but I’d give anything for her to be safe, even if that means I never see her again.

But in my heart, I know I’ll never leave her. Part of it is selfishness. I don’t ever want to live without her because of how much I love her. She’s my kid. My little girl.

But that love may destroy her.

The doctors tell me they have to do a spinal tap after they do some blood work, not satisfied with the results and needing more diagnostic tests.

They mention a brain MRI. God, how serious is this?

I hold Ro while they stick the large needle in her back, causing her to shriek and cry. “D-Daddy! Daddy, it hurts!”

Clinging to her and fighting back tears, I manage to speak without breaking apart, though my voice wavers. “I know. I know. I know it does, bambina. God, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. It’s all gonna be better soon. I got you. I’m not going anywhere. I love you tons, honey. I love you so much.”

Things eventually calm down once the spinal tap is finished, but they go ahead with the MRI, taking her into a room with the large machine.

The thing looks like it swallows her once she’s inside, the technicians telling her to stay still multiple times because she won’t stop squirming in fear at the sound of the machine whirring.

I speak into the mic when their instructions don’t seem to work, hoping my voice will calm her. “Baby, you have to stay still. I know it’s scary but I promise it’s okay. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Daddy’s still here. It’s almost done. Just keep still and it’ll be over before you know it and I’ll give you a big hug.”

She does as I say, finally allowing the technicians to get a clear reading. Once she’s out of the machine, I go to give her a hug but am stopped by a doctor.

“Sir, I’m sorry but you need to keep your distance. We’ll give you gloves and a mask to wear but you have to be careful. We suspect it’s fungal meningitis and it is highly contagious and dangerous.” He explains.

Ro looks at me fearfully, making a face like she’s about to cry. “I don’t care. I don’t. I need to hug my kid. I need to hold my baby.”

“Sir-“

“No. No, I have to. I can’t let her do this alone.” I interrupt, hoisting my daughter up in my arms and carrying her back to the hospital room, laying her on the bed.

I do wear the mask and gloves, which seems to spook her a bit. “Daddy, you look like a scary doctor…”

“Why a scary one? I’m Dr. Stark. I’m a good doctor.” I reply.

“The mask covers your beard.” She explains. “It doesn’t look okay.”

“So you’re saying I should never shave it off?” I ask.

Ro shakes her head. “Nuh uh. That’s weird.”

I smile. “Okay then, baby. I’ll keep the beard. But u do have to keep the mask and gloves on too.”

“Why?” She questions. Such a curious kid. It’s a blessing and a curse.

“Because Daddy could get sick. We don’t want that.” I say. “We’ve gotta focus on getting you better.”

She nods. “Okay…”

“Love you tons.” I tell her.

“Love you tons.” She replies wearily.

Ro falls asleep for a bit while we wait for results, waking up a bit scared. “Daddy, where are we?”

“The hospital, baby.”

“W-Why?” She cries.

“You’re sick. But you’re gonna get better. I promise.” I reply.

“Why do you look scary? I-I don’t like it…I don’t like it…” Ro whines.

Why has she forgotten about the mask? Why can’t she remember where she is and why she’s here? It scares the hell out of me.

The doctor soon comes back and confirms that it’s fungal meningitis, explaining that they will give her an antifungal medication through an IV and that she should recover.

Thank God.

I’m still not at ease, but it’s a little weight off of my shoulders. I’m never at ease. Not after having a kid. I wasn’t expecting that when I first became her dad. The constant worry.

But my brain seems to hate me and decides to come up with ways that she could die or get seriously hurt. Wild scenarios that leave her in the worst of situations.

That feeling was particularly strong when she was an infant. I worried she’d get SIDS. That she’d smother herself or suddenly stop breathing.

Once she was crawling, I worried about her sticking her tiny fingers into electrical sockets or choking on some small pieces of something I forgot to put away.

And when she started to walk, I was scared that she’d bang her head on sharp corners or fall down. That she’d get tall enough to open cabinets full of hazardous materials.

Other than a few bruises and the occasional fall, I’ve done pretty alright so far. So this whole fungal infection thing has me feeling anxious and guilty.

How did she get something like this? Is it something I did? Something I could have prevented?

The doctors say it’s rare, so I’m left wondering how my six year old kid managed to get it.

After a few days on the medication and staying in the hospital, Ro is showing serious improvement and is allowed to go home, the infection running its course.

I don’t end up getting it even with my close proximity to Ro, refusing to leave her side. I’m pretty lucky. I wish it happened to me and not her though.

Once she’s all better and fully rested, I give her her now clean stuffed bear and allow her to eat ice cream for breakfast while we have a Barbie movie marathon. I didn’t want to give her these things while she was sick for fear of making her feel worse. Plus, I haven’t had time to fix the bear.

And by fix, I mean clean the vomit out of its fur.

Those Barbie movies are cheesy and annoying, but she absolutely loves them. I can’t really complain when I see the look of excitement and wonder in her eyes as she watches the screen.

Hugging the bear to her chest, Ro falls asleep on the couch as the credits roll on the fourth movie of the day.

I drape a blanket over her and kiss her head. “Goodnight, sweet pea.”

Despite all of my faults and fears of destroying her, I know I could never leave her side.

Plus, we’re gonna be okay. Me and Ro against the world. Nothing will stop me from being her dad. From raising her and watching her grow into the woman she’ll become one day.

I feel it in my bones.

Just don’t grow up too fast, baby girl.

END

Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you’d like more like this!

[grimescum-2]

I love seeing the Walt background/parent headcanons. They keep me alive.

I’m gonna try to not word vomit here but I’m a big fan of Walter being related to the Crew of Light, in that his mother’s maiden name is Seward. She’s from England, his father is from the Netherlands. They met in WWI and I like to think they were actually good parents, if a little absent at times. They both were knowledgeable in the occult and the vampire world (though they never would want their sole son to be a part of it but that’s a can of worms for another day). I also like to think they traveled all throughout Walter’s youth, especially in mainland Europe. They were living there until the cusp of the 40s.

But anyways— I think they had decent ties with Hellsing, especially through his mother’s family history. So when WWII broke out and invasion of the Netherlands started, where they were at the time, Walter and his mother got out to England.

Long story short, she entrusted Walter to the Hellsing family, somewhat as a ward. Inspired by how a lot of families gave their kids to service or shipped them off during the war to avoid conflict. After leaving him there, she promised to come back as she was heading back to the mainland for the husband/father, to help resistance. She obviously never came back, neither of them did.

So I feel he had loving, invested parents that. Just never came back. Whether they died or not is up to debate imo cause both are effective. But it definitely shattered him a little; to have both leave and never come back, whether of their own accord or not, he feels indebted and all consumed by Hellsing from an early age. It also makes the war personal— it displaced his normal and ruined it forever.

Anyways yeah love this guy I need to hit Walter with my car :3

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME A WHILE 2 GET TO BUT FUCK YEAAAAH DUDE!!!!!!! I REALLY REALLY LOVE THE EXTRA EFFORT OF THINKING ABT HIS PARENT'S SURNAMES N WHERE THEYRE FROM ANF STUFF its so fucking cool... walter with a little bit of a dutch accent wouldve been sk cool ughhhggg uggrrghh biting gnashing yelling etc etc

I hate him he is so so awful. kisses him on his huge forehead. THANK U FOR SHARING THIS WHOEVER U ARE U ARE SO TRUE!!! i feel like him having loving parents would make a lot more sense since he'd def show it if both of his parents sucked ass .abd hes not THAT mentally ill

[arabellaflynn]

The SOJD is on hiatus. The Celtics dance team has gone mixed-gender this year, and he is one of the first men they signed. If any of you are the sort who watch sportsball and actually pay attention to the non-sportsball segments of the broadcast, have fun trying to guess which one of the guys did his best to teach me hip hop.

He says it is temporary. He swears that teaching is "necessary for [his] mental health", and that he's going to figure out how to run single-session pop-ups whenever he can. In theory, he'll go back to twice-weekly classes in April if our team sucks, June if we don't. 

I don't like not having that class. It was useful in a technical training sense, but a lot of classes are; I picked up two others that will teach me equally useful things. They're fine. My schedule is fine. Everything's fine, and I hate it. I've spent the past two weeks trying to come up with a reasonable career-based argument for why I'm at such a loss right now, and I can't, because there isn't one. 

I miss that class because I felt wanted. And it's taken me this long to articulate that because it feels like a petty thought to have. There are a million other people who have been perfectly lovely to me, and extended a welcome as soon as I asked for one. It shouldn't matter that someone walked up and started talking to me first for once, but it does. I feel ungrateful and childish for caring.

It took me forever to figure out what he was up to, because normally people are only that persistent about talking to me when they want something. He didn't seem to want special treatment from the desk and he was way too gay to be angling for a date, so I didn't know what the fuck. The other thing people normally want out of me is emotional work, because when you're known to be generally unflappable it makes you look like a great repository for everyone's trauma-thoughts, but it actually took me months to convince him that when I asked "how are you?" that was an actual question and not a social noise, so.

He didn't want me to do anything for him. I eventually wound up doing a lot of things for him, but I hadn't done any of them yet, and neither of us had any idea I was going to. He didn't have to talk to me at all. Most of the friends I have now are people who could not avoid making my acquaintance. We worked together or volunteered together or did a show together, or something. We're friends now because we like each other, but we only figured that out because we were required to interact at some point whether we wanted to or not. The SOJD could have just waved and walked past me. But he just wanted to chat, so he did.

How pathetic am I being that this actually matters?

I also felt very seen in that class, which is a whole 'nother can of worms. I have a love/hate relationship with attracting attention in classes, especially from the instructor. On the one hand, I understand it's supposed to be flattering, but on the other hand, I learn far better if I'm just fed a whole bunch of information and then left alone to sort through it, and I know from experience that attention is eventually going to end in me being deputized. I've picked up two other classes to fill in some hours, and both of them have already either started using me as an example. It irks me, but not enough to say anything; explaining why I have so much baggage around it is pretty much never worth the trouble. I just accept that if I want to take classes I'm going to have to put up with being the demonstration model in much the same way I accept that if I want to leave my house I'm going to have to put on real pants. It's just one of life's many annoyances.

Like life's other annoyances, you don't realize how much energy you put into dealing with it until you don't have to. The SOJD likes to pull people who are doing well up to the front row, because watching them succeed makes him happy. He tried it with me exactly once. I asked him, "Why am I up here?" he said, "Do you not like being up front?" I said "NO I DO NOT," he said, "Okay, you can go back where you were." Fin. I eventually drifted closer to the front of my own accord, once the mirror was more help than distraction, but he never brought it up again. I've never felt like I could have that conversation with an instructor, much less that it would solve more problems than it caused.

A lot of things have panned out like that. Fundamentally, I was just grateful to finally be in a room run by someone who Gets It, for certain very specific values of It that confound most other people. A lot of it has to do with understanding that yes, I am always in some amount of pain, and no, that doesn't always mean it would be better if I stopped doing whatever I'm doing. I can choose to do things that hurt, if doing them is more important to me than not being in pain, but that means I forfeit the right to have my pain acknowledged, because mentioning it just makes other people concerned to the point where they interfere. But I might decide that I just can't that day, and that decision isn't always going to be consistent, because it depends on a million bizarre and esoteric factors that I could not even begin to unpack. 

I've only had to bail on class a couple of times. The last time I did it, I told him "love y'all, but if I keep going I'm gonna throw up on someone's shoes." He laughed at me -- which was the correct response, because I was being flippant -- but also let me go without kicking up a fuss about whether I was okay enough to get myself home. I've seen him do the normal-person thing when other people have mishaps in class, so I know he knows what most people expect. Having my own self-assessment respected by default is not something I expect, because it happens so rarely.

A part of me is sorry that he Gets It, because this is stuff you can't understand unless you live it for yourself. But I'm not responsible for other people having bad experiences decades before I met them, and  now that they are where they are in life, I'm glad when I run into them.

I hate not having that space. I hate not having a class where I don't have to make sure I look 'okay' so I can fly under the radar. I do warn most dance teachers that I'm very bendy and will probably make a lot of mechanically-puzzling choices, but that's not the same as being able to say, "Wow, that really fucking hurts. Hang on a minute and I'll do it again," and not have to deal with all the fallout.

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[lacie-crying-ruby]

Might as well (lost lullaby)

[On his way back through the dimensions after having lost the final duel, Kaiba lands in Fuyuki and the Fate universe. Directly in the Matos basement, filled with worms. He meets Sakura. He talks with her. He decides promptly to kidnap her and they burst out of the basement. They go and search for Rin. They find her in the church. Kaiba does the Kaiba thing. Kaiba kidnaps Rin too and leaves the dimension with both children. Rin complains about that. (A tiny bit.)]

"Did you get eaten by worms too, Sir?"

-

Seto Kaiba had just kidnapped a child. Currently, he was on his way to get into the Dimension he actually wanted to - the afterlife, or where ever this stupid coward had gone to when he thought he could just die like a loser, and he was keen on finally getting his duel.

"Mr. Seto, where are we going?"

"We are going to get you out of here, no further questions."

"Are you a divine spirit?"

"I am human. Don't make my achievements seem worthless by reducing me to some sort of cheat-version of life."

"...Do you mean magic, Sir?"

"No more questions I said."

-

"It's alright. I love my big brother-"

"No you don't. You shouldn't, he does not deserve your love. Someone that weak deserves nothing and especially not something so valuable like family love. Just kill him."

"But siblings shouldn't-"

"The older one shouldn't. It's alright if the younger sibling does."

-

"Say, does god hate me? Does the world hate me? Do my parents hate me?"

"I can't answer that.

"You're parents are worthless if they decided to make a child they had no intend to raise."

"It's more complicated than that. We were twins-"

"Then they should have aborted both of you then."

"What does that mean?"

"Forget it. You are fine. This world is nothing if you want it to be, you don't need it at all. Just go ahead and do what you want. If god has a problem with that, knock him down as well."

"So I should do... what I want?"

"Exactly. I'm going now."

"I want to leave the basement. I want to go back to my real family... please."

-

So anyway, he was going through the streets with the child he kidnapped, watched her make her tiny steps around like a new born and did his best to ignore any form of sympathy he had for that. The child reminded him of that sister of that dog parading as a duelist, helpless and weak. She did not remind him of himself. Not. At. All.

"Sir, where are we going anyway?"

"Shopping."

"You have money with you? But you said that you came from another-"

"Listen up brat, there are two essential elements that you need to succeed in this world. The first thing is the power to be who you want and the second one is money. If you can't get one thing, then make sure you have even more of the other."

"What about you, Sir?"

"Me? I have both obviously. Now go into that store and choose clothes you think won't look absolutely ridiculous on you."

"I would rather not. In fact... I feel too dirty to even... I don't want to put on new clothes like that. I am sorry-"

"Just pick whatever you want and don't worry about the rest, it can be tailored to fit afterwards."

Where to get a child cleaned up? A spa?

"Are you going to disappear at the end of the day?"

He was going to kidnap that brat forever as it seemed.

-

"Have you any other thing you want to take with you?" A toy or some jewelry, or whatever kids liked.

"I would like to... be with my sister again."

Or another child. Of course.

"And where is she right now?"

"I... I am sorry-"

"We will find her."

Now he was going after that child, a random stranger on the street carrying her bags while tailing them at a two steps distance. Not the best performance, but it was good enough for a no one.

"Oi, someone here?"

"Sir, you can't just walk into the place like you own it-"

"Keep quiet and start searching for your sister. If you see any man, just scream and run back."

"Alright."

"Mr. Kaiba, if you allow, may I go now?"

"Leave the bags here and scat."

"Will do Sir. Thank you sir."

The no one took the money like it was more than he ever had gotten in one go, bowed like an idiot and walked out. He made a run for it outside, and it reminded Seto of the one in Yugi's squad who wasn't Wheeler. Whatever.

"Well what do we have here? Kirei, did one of your children escape when you weren't watching again?"

"Uhm... Sir, does that man count as well?"

"What do the two of you do here?"

"Seeking support from the devine knowledge and mercy of our father of course", he said, abandoning the blonde and turning towards the priest who came out of nowhere as well, watching them out of calculating brown eyes. Yeah, looked just like a priest. Seto motioned at the purple haired child next to him, not taking his eyes off of the man.

"We got told that this brat's sister is here somewhere. Should look like her."

"Do you perhaps mean Rin Tosaka?"

He looked at his current ward, who nodded her tiny head.

"Exactly."

-

"I can't just abandon my home and duty of my line!"

"I just wanted to say goodbye."

"You are going?"

"Yes. Yes I am."

"Alright then. I'm tagging along."

[m1kedefendr]

Byler head-canons because these gay boys live in my brain rent free.

- Will is the one who is constantly flirty and making moves, and Mike gets flustered and shy especially when it’s in front of their friends

- Once Will found out that Mike had so much self hatred and loathing inside of him, along with how bad his insecurities continue to affect him, he vowed that he would do whatever it took to replace the mean voice in Mike’s head with his own loving one.

- On that topic as well, Will gets overly protective and defensive when the party teases Mike sometimes, and Mike is always telling Will to lay off because it really doesn’t bother him, but Will still glares at them

- Mike is the type of boyfriend to ask “would you still love me if i was a worm” and also wake will up in at like 3 am and ask him “are you still in love with me or do you hate me”

- ^ Will is the type of boyfriend to answer the worm question with “what the fuck?” and also tell mike “stop waking me up in the middle of the night to ask dumb questions, yes im in love with you stupid”

-^^ except he’s also the boyfriend to wake up at a reasonable hour and sit mike down and tell him that he truly loves him and mike needs to stop letting his brain make things up

- Mike would reply to the worm question with “omg yes i would put you in my pocket and take you home and make you a lil environment home in a jar and keep you forever” and then Will is like, ‘aw maybe i should’ve answered that nicer when he asked’

- They’re both autistic

- Mike looks at their surroundings when they’re in public and if no one is around or paying attention he’ll hold Will’s hand or kiss his cheek, maybe even actually kiss him, but only a peck because anyone could look at any moment and a kiss on the lips is harder to deny than a cheek kiss or hand holding

- They are actually soulmates.

- Mike is actually trying to be on hoppers good side so he always agrees to leave the door open but Will is the one who closes it and every time Mike tries to stop him because he knows it’s going to fall back on him but he can’t because he loves Will and he loves kissing Will.

(might add more later)

[unohanadaydreams]

Don’t ask me why I made this, just know that I’m right and this is not just a Headcanon post but real. It’s not me having brain worms haha that would be insane. Honestly I just started thinking about how the hell arc introducing Seireitei approved social media would be such a mistake but god would it be fun to watch.

The Current Captains On Social Media

Shunsui Kyoraku - Failed erotic novel author turned romance/erotic novel reviewer. The fan base for his work is very small compared to his actual following. There is some divide in his followers—those who follow for his life updates and those who want to hear him talk at length about his latest read. Funnily enough, his quick, messy posts usually paired with scenery or a selfie are his most popular writing, often hailed as snippets of his poetic soul. Lots of people want to give him a hug.

Soi Fon - Adamant privacy and safety poster. Took to code and anti-virus technology well, much to Mayuri’s annoyance. Posts tips and tricks that read more like demands. Is known for her bitchy responses when followers @ her with their progress that are eaten up gratefully. Her advice is punctuated by posts admiring athletic women and these women make up the bulk of who she follows. She seems to admire runners and lifters the most. Her threatening posts when people hit on her too hard/with too many notes to back them up are turned into copypastas.

Rose Otoribashi - Has one of the larger followings thanks to his nostalgic visuals as well as his dedication to frequently posting new music. He has a personality that’s easily digestible when viewed through snippets. The fact that his passion is music and his job is news/editing also do him a lot of favors. He loves doing live streams and encourages his followers to perform for & with him.

Isane Kotetsu - Her growth being captured on social media not just as a captain but as a person has given her a fan base that feels extremely protective of her. She’s less known for what content she brings and more for her personality. Any creative content she posts is likely to start trending. Especially her ‘peaceful morning’ videos and reflective writing. She’s one of the more interactive posters, beloved for her encouraging responses.

Shinji Hirako - As a more private person, he doesn’t have much of a following and his most popular posts are candid moments posted by others. Lisa is a large reason people consider him endearing in anyway. Definitely the kind of person who is either considered cringe or cool with little in between. The kind of guy who asks what he should do with his hair and then goes with an option that wasn’t listed.

Byakuya Kuchiki - Has an extremely scheduled and curated presence on any site he’s on, but is nonetheless adored. He used to ask Renji and Akon for advice on how to handle some of the more online behavior (like being @ed by women who photoshop them as their date to events or being asked how many notes a date would cost) but stopped quickly. Turns out saying something is flattering leads to more of that behavior. Any selfie he posts is edited and reposted into oblivion until it’s thousands of people’s pfp.

Tetsuzaemon Iba - Despite him being one of the most well rounded captains personality wise, he gets put onto block lists the most for his dedication to concepts of manliness, which are easy concepts to feed to the social media outrage machine. Women’s Association vs Men’s Association is a popular meme where the former is something sensible and the latter is something ineffective/archaic. That being said, he’s also known as a ‘problematic fav’ and people will often post memes about abandoning their feminism for a few minutes to like his selfies and training videos.

Lisa Yadomaru - Another captain with a large love and hate following. Often picked apart for interacting with porn/hentai accounts, thirsting after women openly, and posting pictures alluding to her sexual escapades. Despite her account being regular food for the outrage machine, she doesn’t seem to care or pay attention to it and is forever horny on Main. She posts a lot of candid photos/videos of her friends. Recommends the best fucked up fiction.

Kensei Muguruma - Of course he does cooking videos, but what really does well are his cooking challenges. He forces his lieutenant, friends, and colleagues to compete with him on making a better dish on a time limit and often with other handicaps. Usually wins. His bloopers get a ton of mileage when he posts them. His merch is constantly sold out. People often dress up as him for Halloween/conventions, usually with foam or blow up arms/abs.

Toshiro Hitsugaya - Another captain with a huge following due to him approaching social media with his tireless work ethic. His ice sculptures are very popular and his pop-up galleries sell out in hours. Is actually a huge fan of ‘cozy’ games and is known for having beautiful towns/farms/ect that showcase his attention to detail. He does events in Minecraft sometimes, where he guides people through building large scale projects (and also feels like he’s making friends but that’s left entirely unsaid). A bit harsh, but beloved.

Kenpachi Zaraki - People question if it’s really his account because it’s so random at times, but he posts videos of him mowing down his subordinates during training so it has to be. The odd content includes engaging with easy recipes & activities for toddlers and increasingly complicated punk hairstyles that he really does try out. He also posts weekly, asking for people to volunteer and fight him. The human world especially loves this and he gets a lot of responses. He tries to set up times to fight them but Nanao threatens to delete his accounts and put him on suspension if he attempts to follow through. He posts a lot of post-battle pictures and humans gobble it up. “Just fought *insert ridiculous thing here*” is a huge meme.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi - He is constantly making new accounts and circumventing bans for posting links to his old lab work, that often involves heinous amounts of gore. Actually does have a following, often from those within his own division, those hoping to be in his division, or humans who see him as edgy and a little bit off his rocker, which they think is cool. He posts pictures of himself whenever he switches up his look. And posts Nemuri a lot with unhinged captains about how she’s going to outpace even the head captain and no one could make someone as special & smart as her. Just comes off as a really passionate dad. Plenty of people are convinced he’s a creepy pasta project ran by a dude with a daughter.

Rukia Kuchiki - Like Isane, she’s really loved for who she is rather than creative content. Even her attempts at being stern and ‘captain-like’ are fawned over. She has a line of children’s books, stickers, and notebooks with her cute drawings. Her most popular set was when her daughter contributed. The human world is convinced Renji is her house husband and her life is generally seen as all around ‘goals’. Her posts are riddled with mistakes and very sporadic; she’s posted accidental live streams while she did paperwork and they went viral. She posts tons of candids of her subordinates and family but they are usually blurry or actually videos.

[readinginthereadyroom]

let’s talk about 9-1-1 buddie headcanons:

- eddie gets rid of his truck. christopher is getting older and wants more independence so he gets something with better clearance. and I’ve decided that something is a dodge durango. eddie is actually really into it. can’t stop talking about the fold down seats and towing capabilities. buck teases him and calls it his soccer mom van. then immediately starts researching CP-friendly soccer leagues for chris.

- buck strikes me as a podcast kinda guy. I feel like a lot of his random facts probably start with information learned via podcast and then researched separately on google or wikipedia. 

- luddite eddie my beloved. but not like luddite luddite. eddie’s a millennial so I see him as okay with all the 20th century technology he grew up with and just not all the newfangled smart home/internet gaming stuff. 

- abuela gives eddie an old turntable and a box of records and he falls in love with it. likes to play spanish love songs while cleaning on the weekends.

- eddie breaks up with ana. he does it quietly and cordially a couple weeks after the sniper incident.

- buck and taylor date for a little while but never really take off. and it’s super important that it’s buck who makes the decision to break up. they both have very busy lives and different priorities. and taylor acknowledges she probably shouldn’t have kissed him in the first place. she just hated to see buck so broken and wanted to comfort him. they decide they are better as friends.

- bosko and eddie friendship rights! eddie actually apologizes to her and they become gym buddies. lena stops going to the junkyard fights and finds an MMA gym that she’ll take eddie to. during the pandemic they somehow find themselves doing socially distanced tai-chi in the park. they keep it up once the gyms reopen.

- side note: lena does in fact get a cat. he’s a huge floofy maine coon named sarge who absolutely adores eddie. rubs his head all over him and immediately worms his way into his lap when eddie visits. he hisses at buck tho and lena finds it endlessly hilarious.

- demisexual eddie! I like the idea of lena no-nonsense asking eddie if he’s ace one day and eddie just having an internal panic attack but not being able to figure out why. karen gently brings it up few months later and he’s just deny deny deny. then he overhears david telling michael that he gives off ace vibes and that’s the last straw. so eddie pulls a full buck and starts researching just to prove everyone wrong. except it’s like a lightbulb clicks on and yeah. maybe there’s something to this.

- eddie and karen have a book club every other week. usually novellas or a short story collection. queer theory and literary fiction. the occasional poetry book. at some point they invite david to join them. they also have a not-so-secret romance novel exchange because they are big saps.

- eddie is also a sucker for a really good cup of black coffee. has a favorite hole-in-the-wall cafe where he buys beans in bulk. buck calls it his diesel fuel drink and grimaces at the taste. he prefers simple oatmilk latte from the place near the station. and yet buck always seems to know what days eddie will be running late and rushing to work and has a cup from said hole-in-the-wall coffee waiting. despite it not being on buck’s route. 

- christopher loves buck’s loft. buck keeps a stash of toys and coloring books in his coffee table trunk for when he visits. chris sees the stairs as a fun challenge and will often ask to go up and sit on buck’s bed to watch the city. or sit on the patio while buck bbq’s dinner for the three of them. he thinks it’s the coolest house ever.

- buck actually rides his bike. it’s not just for show. especially after the pandemic hit. he likes to go out in the mornings. drives to a nearby trail on his days off and enjoys the scenery while the sun comes up. sometimes eddie and chris meet him there after his ride and they have a breakfast picnic.

- the diaz-buckley-han’s share one netflix account. it’s technically buck’s in that he pays for it, but when maddie moved to LA he set her up with her own profile. then logged into his account at eddie’s one day and never logged out. renamed the profile buck & eddie after he setup a kid’s profile specifically for chris. then after learning about maddie and chim’s not-dating buff-fridays, buck put both their names on her profile as a prank. and then it just stayed that way. jee-yun even has a profile despite being a literal infant that doesn’t watch tv. maddie cried when she saw it.

- buck takes the legal guardianship thing very seriously. he’s already really involved in essentially co-parenting chris but he starts getting really nervous about asking invasive questions about chris’ medical history. so eddie sits him down with chris and the three of them talk about it. eddie very specifically asks chris if he’s okay with sharing that kind of info with buck. because even tho christopher’s a kid eddie always wants him to have a say in his own health decisions. then he has a more in-depth convo with just buck about insurance and bills and doctor’s visits. makes sure buck has access to all of it. 

- chris played secret matchmaker. went to his old friend santa claus and asked if buck would stay forever. santa came thru, as always.

- also carla knows. buck starts spending more nights at the diaz house and one morning she lets herself in and sees buck coming out of eddie’s room in just a pair of sweatpants. she gives him a coy eyebrow raise and buck blushes. then she just laughs, pats his cheek affectionately, and says your secret’s safe with me buckaroo. when a bleary-eyed eddie wanders out a half hour later she pushes a cup of coffee into his hands, waits a few moments, looks eddie dead in the eyes, and points at buck. I see you took my advice. eddie chokes on his coffee.

- speaking of carla she is family. she and her husband are regular guests at the 118 get-togethers, holidays at the firehouse, and family meals. she occasionally takes on other clients, but she’s mostly exclusive to the diazes these days. esp as christopher gets older and wants more independence. she’s been around since he was 7 and he’s comfortable with her. she stays his home heath care aide until she retires. then she personally vets a new one. because not just anyone will do for her boy. they throw her a huge retirement party.

- gonna jump into the future because christopher absolutely names his daughter carla shannon buckley-diaz. there isn’t a dry eye in the house.

- and I don’t actually see chris calling buck pops or anything. he’s just his buck. tho I can see eddie asking christopher if he wants to hyphenate his last name when buck officially adopts him. buck’s his hero so chris is 100% onboard. 

- buck and eddie don’t have more kids. eddie never wanted more and buck is surrounded by the ever-expanding horde of firefam kids. they love their little trio.

- also eddie is hilariously terrible with other kids. he just. doesn’t know how to talk to them. he’s literally the best father ever with christopher, but any other kid and he’s all awkward hello small human. it’s also the reason the team sends buck to handle kid rescues. he knows how to speak to kids and they light up around his sunshine energy. but then there are certain kids who just glom onto eddie. usually the quiet ones. they find something about his calm dad presence very soothing so they just cling to him until buck can coax them around. 

- I do not see the buckley-diazes getting a pet. buck and eddie work long shifts and it’s not fair to put that kind of extra responsibility on carla when her job is to care for chris. however, as chris gets older he does get a mobility service dog to help with counterbalance. she’s a golden retriever named stella and she’s a very good girl. 

- buck proposes by accident. they’re at the park with christopher and marriage just sorta comes up during one of his infodumps. eddie is eating his sandwich, nodding along, and just casually says of course I want to marry you. buck stops talking. christopher giggles. eddie panics. but when he looks at buck he’s all puppy-eyed and hopeful. you do? eddie nods. chris chimes in with a stage whispered ask properly buck and say yes dad. so they do.

[fvrxdrm]

Last Night (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

Pairing: Infinite Darkness!Leon x GN!Reader

Warning(s): Implied sex

This is about a dream I had a few nights ago. I added a few things at the end bc the ending in my dream didn’t make sense but I’ll explain it later at the end notes.

*****

“Ugh! She’s a fucking headache!”

The coolness of the air conditioning in the briefing room dried up the remaining sweat on your back and forehead and your hands went disgustingly sticky with the clamminess clinging into your palm. Fatigued and dozy you were, you were sure you were going to pass out right there in your seat.

You, along with your partner, Leon, were tasked to save Ashley Graham again, this time in a more urban part of Italy. When the president told you about her getting kidnapped again, you legit rolled your eyes and Leon nudged your side when he saw the subtle gesture you displayed. Had Leon had the audacity to disrespect people who had higher power than him in his line of work, he would’ve flipped the president off and took the both of you to a nearby bar. He wasn’t like that though, much to your dismay. He still had that “mama’s boy” attitude in him even when he left some of it during his “rookie day” or night or something.

You were close to rioting that time. They were going to send you to that fucking mission again with only the two of you and hand you both shitty-ass pistols with ten fucking bullets. Who the fuck does that? Wouldn’t you send the whole team if you, the president of the United fucking States, had a daughter that’s been kidnapped? Also, why the fuck didn’t they enhance the fucking security level? Hello? Parenting 101?

Leon crashed onto the couch beside you, making you bounce a bit, before shaking his hair from the grease and dampness his locks held. “Agreed. I might’ve lost my ears right there…again,” he grunted as he stretched his arms above his head and managed to pop a few joints in the process. “Wanna grab a few drinks after this?”

With your head leaned against the back of the couch, you turned to look at your friend with jaded eyes and a lazy smile. You nodded in response and slapped a hand on his thigh. “Sure.”

*****

You may or may not have had one too many drinks and danced around like a fucking worm on crack. Leon had one of his arms wrapped around your waist and a glass of whiskey in his free hand as he ground against your skirt-clad ass while you responded back with the same enthusiasm as him. Both of you were drunk, that’s for sure. Not only with pure intoxication, but also with a sinful desire; something you two unknowingly shared on nights where fingers worked their magic to bring you both to a blissful high. You knew they weren’t enough to satisfy your wants, but they were enough to calm your racing thoughts temporarily instead of committing to a one-time thing and bringing awkwardness in the atmosphere, at least you thought it would’ve been a one-time thing.

Leon whispered naughty things into your ear, things he wouldn’t have said had he been conscious enough to stop himself from making a move, and boldly dipped a finger in your skirt and rubbed your pussy through your underwear. He was going to make love to you, he said, and he would make sure that you would be his. You bit your lip as you moaned at his words. He was hot and you would gladly let him fuck you anytime, anywhere. And so, you agreed.

*****

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The provoking sound of your phone pulled you away from your dream. Your fantasy was so close to getting to the good part. Leon was about to fucking kiss you and then somebody decided to fucking wake you up! You sighed. If somebody woke you up this early then you guessed it was really important. So, despite being piqued and groggy from the sudden sound, you picked your phone up from the night stand beside your bed, not even thinking about how different your room looked, and checked the time before answering the call. “Hello?” You spoke, your voice raspy and your throat feeling like a thousand knives were stabbed into it. You also took note of how your head felt like you were banging it against the wall with so much speed and vigor and attempted to ease it down with a simple massage but to no avail.

“Morning, Y/N!”, the voice from the other line boomed, causing your agonizing condition to aggravate even more.

Ashley

You groaned at the contrasting enthusiasm the girl had and you had to slam the phone on the mattress to ground yourself and keep you from dying. “Can you keep your voice down? I have a headache right now and it would be much appreciated if you could calm down,” you said after bringing your device back to your ear.

“Oh, sorry. I was just going to ask if you could meet me in the church later? I wanted to talk to you about something while we get everything set for my wedding tomorrow. I tried calling Leon, but he wouldn’t answer. Can you do me a favor of telling him about it too?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll call him.”

“Thanks, Y/N! I’ll see you later,” she said. The call ended with a series of beeps and you slammed your phone on the bed again with your eyes shut tight in irritation.

I cannot deal with that girl again. Especially now that I’m hungover… But who am I to deny the president’s fucking daughter…?

You sighed.

Welp, time to call Leon.

You raised your phone up parallel to your face and was about to press Leon’s saved contact name when you suddenly felt an arm wrap around your torso. Your heart pounded. With eyes opened wide and brain waking up from its slumber in an instant, you slowly turned your head towards your left and almost screamed at what you saw…or rather who you saw.

Leon.

His chest was exposed to the warmth of the morning air, hair strands clamped together by oil and sweat that was starting to form on his skin. He was still deep in his slumber and you noticed how the round bulge tucked in his eyelids moved around as if he was exploring something in his dream.

Never had you and Leon shared a bed together. Those times where he would come over to your place for a drink? He would always insist that he could just crash into your couch in order to avoid invading your privacy.

You panicked at the situation you were in. You grabbed the hem of your blanket and yanked it up to check if anything did happen, and surprise, surprise; something did. You were both naked and you felt something drying up down there. You also started taking notice of how your vagina felt sore from probably getting pounded and fucked silly last night-

Oh, right! Last night.

You vaguely remembered how Leon touched your body while you two were getting drunk. You two were getting a bit too flirty and began groping each other here and there, getting more and more suggestive as minutes passed, pie-eyed and unconscious with how you were treating each other as more than friends.

Every corner and every wall your eyes passed was becoming a void of something dark, something you became anxious of. What happened would forever change your friendship and your relationship with him for sure. Hell, you weren’t even sure if he was going to stay by your side starting from when he wakes up in a few minutes. And as much as you wanted to go back and prevent that from happening, you couldn’t, and you had to face the music whether you liked or not.

*****

Sure enough, when you woke Leon up, everything was awkward. No words were exchange from when you prepared for the day, breakfast, and until Leon drove you both to the location Ashley had told you to go to. The silence rose hysteria in both of your minds. You were going fucking crazy. You were fidgety when you sat beside Leon in the passenger seat and the man would bounce his leg up and down when you hit a red light. You both were trying to avoid taking a glance at each other, but those inevitable moments that you did, you would forcefully smile at each other and then gaze back out the window again. That was the cycle you lived on for a few hours and you decided to let it stay like that until one of you broke the atmosphere.

You waited inside the church as you were told. It was only the two of you inside but you acted like a handful of people were sitting beside you with the amount of space that was left unfilled between you. You were biting your lip and focusing on the pillars and stones that made up the building until you couldn’t process anything that was happening anymore and stood up, studying the interior as you roamed. “Hey,” you heard somebody whisper behind you. You looked down to your wrist when you felt something warm and saw a fairly large hand loosely gripping onto it before looking up to see Leon’s eyes gazing into yours. You nearly got lost in them but thankfully, he spoke before you got stuck into your own stupor. “I just wanna say… I’m sorry. I-it’s not gonna change everything that happened but I don’t want to break what we have. I value you and our friendship too much for me to let it go. I don’t think we can forget about last night but if it makes you feel better…I-I-“

“Can we talk about this outside? I don’t think it’s appropriate for us to talk about it here,” you chuckled. Leon nodded in agreement before leading you out to where a garden caught your attention. “Listen Leon, I know we can’t just pretend nothing happened but… I don’t wanna let go of this either. I value this as much as you do and it would be crazy stupid for me just to just hate you for something we weren’t even conscious about or something,” you said. You both laughed in relief as the weight on your shoulders dissipated into thin air before you placed a gentle palm on his cheek. Again, no words were shared but this time, no anxiety was present. Instead, you felt like this was an intimate moment only the two of you shared. Something was being written in the stars and you saw every word the gods wrote in the eyes of the person in front of you both.

As cheesy as it sounded, you two felt like magnets were pulling you towards each other, physically and mentally, and in a matter of seconds, you found your lips being pressed against Leon’s.

It was like you were recreating what happened last night without even knowing the details, except this was slower, more sensual, and certainly more emotional, and you couldn’t help the tears that flowed freely against your cheeks.

“Come on, let’s ditch Ashley. Maybe we could relive what happened last night?”

*****

Okay, so in my dream, Ashley’s not getting married and she didn’t call me. Instead, what happened was after the bar scene, Leon and I got teleported in front of the altar and just fucking talked. And then we walked outside and what happened in the end of this fic happened in my dream. Lol.

I rushed this bc I’m tired.

[tickle-bugs]

One of a Kind

@amazingmsme I didn't want to post the thing you sent just because of the minor minor spoilers (I hate that we've lost a grip on spoiler culture on the internet so I am overcorrecting to keep my blog safe!) but what you sent was too goddamn cute. Have an unedited thing I wrote in one go. This takes place in the nebulous, non-existent gap between episode 5 and 6! I still haven't see the finale so....this is canon-adjacent-adjacent I guess. Enjoy!

Spoilers for the Loki series under the cut!

Cataloguing variants had always been time-consuming, but somehow Loki was making it take longer. Mobius knew that Loki should’ve gone through his stack already, especially with his reading speed, but he was just staring at one particular file and huffing at increasing volumes.

Alright, I’ll bite.

“I’d ask what you’re thinking about, but I know you’re gonna tell me.” Mobius thumbed through his file on another Loki, one who’d defected from Thanos in 2012 to join the Avengers. They’d pruned him pretty early. Mobius still regretted not being able to pick his brain for a little while longer.

“These other variants are incredible,” Loki scoffed.

“I agree.”

“I don’t understand it.” He stared at Mobius, brow furrowed, and alright, they clearly weren’t getting any more work done.

“Lokis tend to be extraordinary. It’s kinda a thing with you guys.” Mobius slid his files aside.

“Right, but in comparison, I am at the lower end of the bunch.” Loki frowned, gesturing as if this was a matter of grave importance.

“Okay, you lost me.” He folded his hands on the table and squinted at Loki.

“We have an alligator, an illusionist whose powers dwarfed my own, a child who killed Thor, a President--though I can’t fathom wanting to be a part of the American political system--and an enchantress. Those are the variants that we know about. So why am I here helping you?”

“You’re the best of the bunch.” The simplest and truest answer. Loki didn’t seem to buy it.

Mobius dragged his chair around the table and put it in front of Loki, effectively pinning him against the table--well, he could just stand up and walk away, but Mobius knew he wouldn’t. It was part of their thing.

“What are you doing?”

“Just gettin’ closer.” Mobius slotted his knees between Loki’s and pulled his chair as far in as it could go.

“I can see that. Why?”

“I just wanna be close to you, that’s all.” He gave his best convincing grin. Loki visibly softened.

“Loki, you are a genius with a good heart. You’re here because you are, at least in my book, a hero.” Mobius gave his knee a steady pat. Loki puffed with pride.

“Go on.”

“Wow, you are on a perfect swinging scale of narcissism. From self-deprecating to king of the world in no time flat.” Mobius laughed.

“Thank you.” Loki adjusted his tie, missing or ignoring everything but the word ‘perfect’. Mobius bit his lip on a chuckle--he really shouldn’t inflate an already dangerously-large ego, but Loki needed it, he thought. His confidence was all air, after all--smug posturing designed to fill the void of something genuine. Loki could use genuine, for a change.

He looked Loki up and down slowly, deliberately, and an absurd little idea took root in the back of his mind. It had worked in the Time Cell, so maybe...

“Why are you looking at me like that? Wh--Mobius. Mobius. Stop it.” Loki leaned back as much as he could. Mobius grinned and hovered his fingers just over Loki’s torso, dangerously close. Loki sucked in his stomach, looking frantically between Mobius’s hands and his face.

“This r-really isn’t necessary.” The wobbly smile on Loki’s lips told Mobius the exact opposite.

“Nervous giggler, huh?” Mobius twitched his fingers and Loki jumped.

“No.”

“Perfect! Then you’ll hear what I have to say.” Mobius set his fingers adrift, passing languidly over Loki’s spots but never landing anywhere.

“Sylvie’s my favorite because she’s wild and unpredictable. I can never quite figure out what’s goin’ on in that head of hers, regardless of her being a Loki, and it fascinates me. You know I love my puzzles, and cracking open her head like a walnut has been a real highlight of my career.” Mobius’s fingers over Loki’s knee got the first giggles to bubble out, sweet and fluttery, and it took all of his strength not to chase them down.

“But you? You’re incredible. Quick wit, a quicker knife hand, and a will to survive that I haven’t seen in--” Mobius whistled lowly-- “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it. Plus, you’re pretty cute. Or, so I’ve heard.”

“You had me wrapped around your finger when we brought you in. I mean, you could talk a desert into bloomin’.” It was the first time in a few thousand Loki’s that he’d genuinely almost been fooled--something about this one, his Loki, just got to him in a way that the others never could.

“I still have you around my finger.” Loki’s smile and rosy cheeks ignited a gentle warmth in Mobius’s chest. Gentle, rolling chuckles flowed steadily from him, walls completely broken down, and if Mobius could keep one memory forever, it would be this.

“Oh, and that laugh. I’m almost jealous. Literal music to my ears. Y’know, the other Loki’s never laughed like this? It was always this fake, snooty chuckle that used to make my skin crawl.

“But not you. You’ve got this damn beautiful giggle. It’s like the old saying goes: every time a Loki laughs, a puppy is born. Or angels get their wings. A little bit of both.” Mobius let his fingers drift upwards to Loki’s ribs and he whined, pitching forward until his forehead hit Mobius’s chest.

“T-That’s not a thing.” The color on Loki’s face had matured into a wonderful shade of cherry, his voice pinching from the sheer volume of emotion--Mobius could actually see him working through it in real time. Another favorite thing that he could never express aloud--how earnestly and easily Loki wore his emotions.

“He speaks!” Mobius swooped his hands in, never touching but threatening, and Loki yelped around some more giggles.

“Stop it.” Loki swiped at his hands, but even at close range, he couldn’t coordinate enough to catch Mobius.

“You’re right, my bad. It’s rude to keep you waiting.”

“Wh--no, nonono, that’s definitely not what I meant--”

“You make it so easy for me,” Mobius sighed wistfully, seeking out Loki’s trick rib as easy as breathing. Loki shrieked, crumpling in Mobius’s arms, and Mobius held him as he deftly took him apart.

“You are a Loki, alright? There’s no doubt about that. But you’re you, and I like ya. Stop worryin’ about the others.” He wormed his fingers under Loki’s arms, then spidered across the backs of his ribs and up towards his shoulders.

“M-Mobius!”

“Excellent point. You also have me. That’s a pretty big deal--I’m one of a kind, y’know. Limited edition. So there’s that.” His hands found solace beneath Loki's jaw, pulling forth jumpy squeaks between...purrs? Huh. He made a note of it as he scribbled his fingers up Loki’s thigh, dodging swatting hands like a stubborn bug. Loki pulled his knee up to his chest, head tilted back in open-mouthed laughter, and Mobius followed him.

“Who’s got an ego now?” Loki smirked, eyes crinkled, and Mobius summoned his best dramatic gasp.

“You take that back!”

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Hey... It's my first time requesting here, so here goes. Could you make a scenario in which the reader and Belphie had a baby? I saw you Lucifer one and it got me wondering how it would be like with Belphie.

Without You (Belphegor x F!Reader) 

WARNING (Pregnancy, Children, Babies, Slight NSFW, ANGST) 

A child was the last thing he wanted, literally the last thing, it was at the very bottom of his to-do list written in the tiniest print, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t even his handwriting. He had turned you down every single time you brought it up, and it was quite easy to turn it down, finding any and every reason for you and him not to have a child together. His main reason was quite simple, and very selfish. He didn’t want to share you, not even with his own child. He wanted you all for himself, he wouldn’t have some tiny, whatever the hell it would even be, taking your time away from him. That would be unacceptable. Think of all the naps the two of you would miss out on! Ridiculous, it would just be ridiculous. 

There was also a small part of him, very small due to the fact that he didn’t really worry much about it at all, but it was always in the back of his mind, of what would happen if you did try to carry his child. He was a demon, and any child by him would obviously be part him, maybe even more, he didn’t know how potent his seed was. Of course, nothing had happened yet, and he had filled your womb many times before, so that worry was shoved to the furthest part of his brain. Nothing to worry about, there hadn’t been a mistake yet, and he was 99.999% sure that there wouldn’t be any mistakes made at all. 

He hadn’t been thinking ahead though, and one important thing had slipped his mind completely. Breeding Season. You hadn’t even known about it at all, he didn’t feel the need to tell you, he thought that he would be able to keep control of himself long enough to keep you safe from himself. His plan proved futile, and his animalistic nature had taken over completely. It wasn’t his fault though, it was just how he was, who he was… what he was. He, in a way, completely blacked out. You were pinned to the bed in less than a second, your clothes torn to shreds and discarded onto the floor as he completely ravaged you, slamming into you, making sure his tip pierced through your womb with each and every thrust, filling your womb over and over with his seed. By the time he was done with you, you were a bruised, crying, cum filled mess. There was no comfort afterwards, no aftercare, nothing. Just the sounds of his light snoring next to you as you weakly crawled out of the bed, trying to get as far away from him as possible. 

Days passed, and shortly days turned to weeks, and you still refused to talk to him. Why would you talk to him? You were terrified, and rightfully so. What had happened to you was traumatic, almost as traumatic as him killing you. Now he had two things to feel guilty for, but you still talked to him after he had killed you, so why wouldn’t you listen to his reasoning now? “Let her be.” “Give her time, Belphegor.” Everyone always had something to say, but none of them truly understood. He didn’t like being away from you, especially not for this long. You wouldn’t even respond to his texts, you wouldn’t even read them. Were you really that scared of him? Did you really hate him that much? He didn’t really care, he would stand outside your door all day, even going as far as to bring down his pillow and his blanket, napping right outside your room. He would wait there as long as it took for you to open that damn door and talk to him. He understood that it didn’t make sense to you, but the least you could do is give him a chance to try to make it make sense to you. 

Finally, after almost a month of you not talking to him at all, you finally went to him. It felt like forever, and hearing your voice say his name, it sounded… heavenly. You were finally giving him a chance, a chance to explain, a chance to make you understand. He knew it would be hard, but even now you still seemed scared of him. It only made it harder, all he wanted to do was reach out to you and pull you into his arms and tell you that it would all be okay. For a couple of weeks after it even seemed like everything was okay. He had explained everything to you, and you were slowly coming back to him, letting him touch you again, letting him kiss you again, and he would thank the dark Devildom sky every morning when he’d wake up and see you curled up next to him. He had messed up twice, almost lost you twice, he wasn’t about to screw up a third time. 

That was the problem though, he thought that the third mistake would never happen, not even realizing that the third mistake was already taking place, making its home in your womb. He was so happy that you were finally talking to him again, overjoyed that you had, in a sense, let him back into your life. All he wanted to do was forget about what had happened all together, move on from it, leave it behind the both of you like a bad nightmare. It would have been too easy though, he would have been too lucky if that were the case. If he just got to move on from what he had done and still have you. Luck was never on his side, and there were always two sides to every coin. 

There were no changes, not for a while, no changes that he would have picked up on immediately. Sure, you were sleeping a lot more, but he just attributed that to you being around him so much. Plus, he didn’t really have a problem with it, you were constantly with him, always next to him, it’s not something that he would complain about. Then you started eating more, bringing bowls of ice cream up to the bed with you, crying into the bowl as you scrolled through your D.D.D. He didn’t get it, and he didn’t really know who to ask. Beel had no answers for him, but he’d supply you with food whenever you asked for it. He could get used to your strange eating habits, and he even got used to you crying at almost everything… you were just emotional. When you started throwing up every morning when you woke up, that’s when he started getting worried. He was panicking actually, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with you. Had you gotten sick? He didn’t know how you would have gotten sick though, you were constantly with him, and he was never sick. 

Soon enough the physical changes started coming, the small bulge in your abdomen that was never there before. He knew he had never seen it before, he noticed everything, he could pick up any change in your body. It wasn’t just visual, he could feel it when he held you close, rubbing his hand over your stomach which seemed to soothe you more now. He tried to write it off as your eating, maybe you were just eating too much. He didn’t bring it up to you, you were already so emotional, he didn’t want to upset you even more, so he just questioned it mentally, paying more attention to you as the days passed. 

It happened one night as you were laying next to him, snoring quietly, his hand rubbing over your stomach as he always did. Your abdomen had grown much more from when he first noticed the change, but he was still writing it off as your eating, you were eating way more now than even before. That’s when he felt it, something moving beneath your skin, almost like it was pressing up against his hand. Your body reacted to it, rolling over onto your back with a smack of your lips, he would have thought it was adorable had he not been silently freaking out. What the fuck was that? 

He couldn’t keep quiet about it anymore, he had to ask you, he had to bring it up. That was the first night in a long time that he had actually lost sleep, his mind focusing only on his hand that was still laying on your stomach, waiting to feel the slightest movement. As soon as you woke up he asked. He didn’t have time to wait, he was panicking even more now. “Did you eat something bad? Did Beel give you raw meat? Did you eat raw meat? Did you go anywhere without me?” The last question seemed stupid, he knew that you hadn’t left the house, let alone left his side since he got you back. He was worried though. Was it a worm? Was it a parasite? He didn’t know, but whatever it was had to be taken care of immediately. 

You didn’t have time to answer any of his questions before pushing yourself out of the bed and running into the bathroom. He held your hair away from your face, wiping the sweat from your forehead as you retched into the bowl. That’s when he sensed it… almost… smelled it… it was different, but not too far off from the smell of him and you mixed together. It was familiar but unique at the same time, he didn’t like it. As soon as he knew you were done he carefully pulled you up off the floor and led you into the bedroom, laying you carefully on the bed. “I need you to be honest with me, Y/N. What the hell is going on?” He hadn’t raised his voice at you, only letting show through his tone his genuine concern. He didn’t understand why you started crying, only reaching out to grab you, pulling you onto his lap as you cried on his shoulder. 

That’s when you started telling him between choked out hiccups and loud sniffles that you didn’t really understand what was going on, that you just blamed the changes on the Devildom at first. Then the real changes started happening, and you caught on, everything finally adding up in your head, but you were too scared to tell him, scared that he’d hurt you again, and that killed him. You were scared of him, scared to talk to him, scared to tell him what was going on… you didn’t trust his rationale, and why should you? He had hurt you twice, what would make you think that he wouldn’t hurt you again if you told him something that he didn’t like. He tried to stay calm, keep his composure for you, but inside he was freaking out. He was pissed, pissed at himself, angry that he had even allowed this to happen. He was pissed at Lucifer, for allowing him to get to you, for not protecting you when he had gone through his season. That’s surely when it must have happened. Not only had Lucifer not protected you, he hadn’t even told Belphie that this kind of thing was possible, and now… here you were, proving the impossible to be possible. 

The problem wasn’t just that it had happened in the first place, the bigger problem was that he knew you wouldn’t allow him to get rid of it, and he knew just how to do it too. If you didn’t mean so much to him he would do it while you were sleeping… but you were everything to him. He cared about you, he wanted you to be happy, he didn’t want to lose your trust again. So… he did what he never thought he’d be able to do. He thought of the good aspects of it, and while there were very few pros to what was going on, at least with his seed growing inside of you everyone would know not to go near you, at least they should know. He didn’t expect the instinct to protect it would kick in, but he found himself growling at anyone that even came close to you or your stomach, and he only realized how bad it really was when Beel came to bring you food and he damn near bit Beels hand off. 

Watching it grow, watching you grow with it, that’s what scared him the most. He knew it would be strong, how could it not be? The thing was part of him, a literal demon spawn and it could hurt you, rip through you at any point. There was no way to tell how big it actually was or what it was doing, he could only see the movements through your stomach and attempt to measure it by rubbing over your stomach. He could tell it was bigger, as it would be, but that only made him worry more. Would it have horns like him? Would it even care enough about you to be careful with its movements? He had no way of knowing, he could only hope. Hope that the thing, the child, loved you as much as he did. 

Months passed, and while most men found it beautiful to see their woman carrying their child, he found it terrifying. It didn’t take long for him to realize that not only did the child have horns, it also kicked like a bull, it was just like him and he hated that. He couldn’t stand to look at your stomach, it was almost painful to see the purple and yellow blotches that covered your skin, knowing that it was his fault, that he had caused this. He would try to clear them up every day, only for the beast inside you to kick just as hard, creating darker bruises, almost as if it were mocking him. It wasn’t just seeing what it did to you, it was watching you try to cover up your pain, pretend that everything was fine as you clenched your teeth together, rubbing your hand over your stomach in an attempt to calm the monster down. He hated it, and he hated himself for doing it to you. 

What hurt him the most though… was actually thinking that you would make it. He had done everything he could to try to make you comfortable, to make it easier on you because you were so damn persistent, so dead set on carrying this thing that you would kill yourself in the process. He knew it was a possibility, but he had never actually thought of it happening. You had already made it this far and while, yes, you were exhausted, and you were being beaten from the inside, you were still breathing. You were still going. It was so close to the end, you only had to wait a little while longer, but the monster had different plans. They always do, but not even he, a monster himself, could have planned for it to happen the way it did. No one would have been ready for it. 

Everything was calm, too calm. You had finally dozed off, and for once you actually looked… peaceful. The thing had finally stopped moving, almost as if it had decided to take a nap itself, and he thought that he’d be able to get some sleep in. It had been so long since he had actually taken a nap, a decent nap where he didn’t wake up almost immediately to the sound of you gasping or crying silently when the thing would kick you. He should have known better, he should have known something was about to happen, the calm before the storm, he should have woken you up, he should have gotten the thing out of you sooner… but he was too late. He was always too late. 

It wasn’t a gasp, it wasn’t even a cry… your scream had startled him awake, he knew that scream, he had heard it before, it just wasn’t a scream that he ever thought he’d hear from your lips. His eyes were still clouded with sleep as he sat up and looked at you, and for once he wished that he hadn’t slept, that he hadn’t given himself that small joy, because now the greatest joy he had ever known was being taken from him. He knew that much, watching the blood stain through Beels shirt, the only shirts that even fit you at this point. It wasn’t only coming through the shirt though, it was oozing from between your lips as your breaths came out in choked off gurgles. He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t even find his voice to call for help, to call for anyone. It was as if he was stunned into silence, watching it all happen, your eyes wide with panic and fear met his own that mirrored the same emotion. 

Your scream had alerted the brothers, and they all came rushing into the room, but there was nothing anyone could do, what were they supposed to do? His eyes never left yours, even as the beasts horns, horns that looked exactly like his own, ripped through your chest with the most god awful squelching as skin and muscle was torn. Most of his brothers left at that point, even Beel could barely stand to stick around and watch, but he still stayed longer than the others. For emotional support or just to say his own goodbyes to you, he wasn’t quite sure, but he didn’t blame him for leaving. The only one who stayed was Lucifer, helping to rid your body of the beast that had destroyed you, the monster that had taken you so carelessly away from him. 

Lifeless eyes stared up at him now, the sheets and blankets stained with your blood. It was quiet, eerily quiet, the silence was deafening and he hated it. At least he thought he did, until he heard the child crying. What right did it have to cry? He hated it, he didn’t want to see it, he didn’t want to hear it, he just wanted to have you back. He would do anything to bring you back, but he knew he would never get that option, he would never get that choice. He had screwed up, it was his third mistake, and now he had really lost you. 

Everyone went on as if it had never happened. It was easy for them, but it killed him to see his brothers act as if you were nothing more than a mere visitor who had passed through. The only one who understood his pain was Beel, and not only did he understand, but he helped. Belphie wasn’t the greatest father, he wasn’t the best, he wasn’t even close to being a good father, but he tried. Not for the child, but for you, because he knew that’s what you would have wanted him to do. 

He was never quite sure about how much time had passed, he relived that day every single day. In his mind, it was as if it had only happened yesterday, always fresh in his memory. Days could have been weeks and months could have been years and he would have never noticed. Not even the growing of his son helped mark the passing of time. Everything was a blur to him, without you there, he felt he had no reason. The only reason he even got out of bed at this point was for his son who he could barely even glance at without feeling a mixture of anger and sadness. He didn’t want the kid, but he looked so much like you, he hated that the child was the only living piece of you that he had left. 

Days went on, and every day was the same. It was like a constant loop, feed the kid, keep the kid occupied, put the kid to sleep. It never ended, it never changed. He was laying on the floor, on the verge of passing out when his son pushed himself off the floor and walked to the door just as the knock came, pointing at it with a smile. “Mama?”

[calebdumes]

not a prompt just a little ear worm i got while reading queen’s shadow

fandom: star wars rebels

relationship: kanan jarrus/hera syndulla

rating: t (mentions of vomit)

word count: 2k

~

“No.” Kanan said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

“Kanan, please I don’t think you realize what’s at stake here. We have to do this.”

Kanan folded his arms across his chest. “Then you’ll have to do it without me.”

“We can’t do it without you.” Hera pleaded.

Sabine looked between the human and Twi’lek with round eyes, trying to ignore the pit that was forming in her stomach. She hadn’t been part of the Ghost crew for very long but she had been around long enough to know that whatever was going on with Hera and Kanan, it wasn’t good. They hardly ever fought and when they did, it was nothing like this.

“Uh,” she interrupted. Sabine didn’t really want to get in the middle of their squabble but if they were fighting over a potential job that involved the whole crew, she needed to know about it. Especially if Kanan – let me jump off the roof of this building in the middle of a firefight and roll away without a scratch – Jarrus wanted nothing to do with it. “What exactly is this job?”

Hera turned away from where Kanan stood fuming. “There is a senatorial aid who has been accused of treason against the Empire but they were able to escape before being arrested. My contact, Fulcrum, wants us to extract them before the Empire finds them.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is.” Zeb said from beside her on the acceleration couch, resting his purple elbow on the holotable. “We’ve done jobs like this before.”

Kanan scoffed and turned away from them, pinching the bridge of his nose. Hera shot him a concerned glance before saying, “We have but this one it time sensitive, if we don’t get the aid off of Coruscant before they are arrested, any Senator with rebel sympathies will be in danger. The whole rebellion could be destroyed before it can begin.”

“So let Fulcrum send someone else,” Kanan snapped whirling around on her. “I know there has to be other cells, let one of them do it. Not us.”

Hera reached out and placed a hand on his arm that he shook off. She blinked at the rejection and the pit in Sabine’s stomach grew. “The Ghost is uniquely equipped for a job like this.” She said. “And you know I can’t tell you about other cells if there are any. For your own protection.”

“Kriff my protection Hera!” He spat. “I’m not going back there.”

“Millions of people could die if we don’t do this Kanan.” Hera fired back, her lekku stiff. “Please,” her shoulders drooped, her melodic voice going soft. “I know what I’m asking you to do and I’m begging you, just this once, please trust me.”

Kanan’s face was like stone, his eyes cold. Sabine felt a shutter run down her spine. He gave Hera a curt nod before stomping from the room. Even from the lounge she could hear the dull thuds of things being thrown.

Hera collapsed down next to her. “Well, that could have gone better.”

Sabine looked over at Zeb’s puzzled face before asking, “What’s his deal with Coruscant?”

“That’s his story to share.” Hera rubbed at her temples. “But needless to say, he’s not a fan of the planet.”

“I’d say.” Zeb grumbled. “Is he going to be alright for this job?”

Hera sighed. “He’s going to have to be. The free galaxy is depending on it.”

-

Kanan’s neck prickled as soon as the Ghost exited hyperspace, the familiar ball of city planet filled the viewport. He could feel the hum of his holocron buzzing at the back of his mind; it’s not quite sentience calling out to him in warning. Master Kenobi’s words echoing loudly in his ears.

Do not return to the Temple, that time has passed.

Sweat beaded his forehead as Hera angled the Ghost down to the surface, slipping past the blockade of Star Destroyers

“Freighter Dawn Catcher, this is the Prosperity. State your purpose and transmit lading permit.” A voice rang out in the enclosed space of the cockpit, the Core accent so sharp that it made Kanan visibly wince. Hera shot him a look before responding.

“Transmitting landing permit now Prosperity.” She said, her eyes snagging on how Kanan’s hand shook on the armrests. “We’re are delivering a scheduled payload from Raada Agricultural Distribution.”

There was a pause as the Ghost was scanned and their landing permit was confirmed. “Landing permit confirmed Dawn Catcher. Follow along assigned descent vector and dock in landing bay 389.”

Hera flipped off the comm and continued down to the surface. Kanan could hear Sabine and Zeb’s gasp of amazement as the surface of Coruscant unfolded before them, endless buildings and skyscrapers that rose up from the depths of the planet like shining chrome plated jewels. He felt Sabine grab on to the back of his seat as she leaned forward for a better look.

“Hey!” she pointed to a sand colored building that was just a mere dot on the horizon. Kanan felt his heart lodge itself in his throat. “Isn’t that the old Jedi Temple?” she asked.

The Force swelled around him, sharp and familiar. He could feel the faint tendrils of the vergence the Temple sat on prick at his shield but they were too far away for it to do much that make his stomach roll with nausea.

He didn’t want to be here. Every atom of his being seemed to be revolting against the planet. His breaths dragged through his lungs in ragged pants, his blood rushing through his veins, spurred on by waves of adrenaline. He shouldn’t be here.

Caleb…you must run!

Kanan flinched violently in his seat. He was vaguely aware of Hera speaking but a thick fog of memories had fallen over him. The heavy heat of blaster fire seared his skin, the smell of fire and oil curled in his nose. The pained screams of his people rang loudly in his ears.

Avoid Coruscant. Avoid detection. Be secret.

“Kanan?” Hera’s hand landed lightly on shoulder, making him jump. “We need to move.”

Kanan blinked, clearing his vision to find that they had landed. The bright sky was just a faint pin prick of light at the top of the long shaft that bore into the planet leading to the fathomless depths below. He nodded, pushing down the bile that threatened to climb up his throat.

This is Master Obi Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place.

“Zeb, you stay here with me and unload the supplies. Kanan and Sabine will head to the warehouse and recover the asset. Move quickly.” She told them, her words barely washing over Kanan. “Avoid detection.”

Do not return to the Temple.

His hands flexed at his side, reaching for a weapon he hadn’t carried in years.

“Kanan?” Sabine asked when he didn’t move.

“I’m coming.” He mumbled. He checked the charge on his blaster before following her down the ramp and stepping foot on his home planet. They moved quickly and silently through the dark and dirt streets of the Coruscant underworld, his senses on high alert.

Any second now they would find him, the stupid lost padawan. Too dumb to ignore Master Kenobi’s warning. They would find him and then…

Kanan shuttered.

Fulcrum’s spy was waiting for them at the mouth of the warehouse, trying and failing to look unbothered. The Rodian waved them and hit the door control, closing them off from prying eyes.

“You got the crates?” Kanan asked in a strained voice. Any second now they would come. He could hear the heavy tread of the Clones. They were coming for him. Any second now…

Kanan’s heart thundered in his chest.

“You got the credits?”

Sabine tossed the Rodian a bag that he caught mid air.

“They’re over there.” He pointed on long suctioned cup finger over to two crates sitting on a hover stretcher. “Take them and get out.”

The journey back to the Ghost seemed to last forever. More than once they had to backtrack to avoid a stormtrooper patrol that was stopping to question the poor souls that were in their way. The whole time, the Force was screaming at him, making his whole body tremble.

Run Jedi. Run.

If he didn’t get off this planet soon, Kanan feared something far worse than death was coming.

Any second now…

Zeb was waiting for them when they finally made it back. He waved them on urgently, spotting a group of white clad soldiers marching their way. “C’mon let’s go.” He hissed, smacking the door control as soon as they were on board. “All Specters on board.” The Lasat called out to Hera.

The Ghost rumbled beneath their feet as Hera took off, rising up the wide shaft. Kanan climbed the ladder to the cockpit, leaving Sabine and Zeb to deal with their new cargo. He blinked as the bright sun grew as the rose. Any second now…

“Are you okay?” Hera asked him as he fell into the co pilot’s chair. Adrenaline coursed through his body, sweat dripping down his back. Any second now…

If he was capable of laughing he would have. Instead he jerked his head and managed to ground out, “I’m the furthest thing from okay Hera.”

She gave him a sympathetic look before swinging the Ghost around and slipping into the traffic lanes leading space.

The Temple filled his side of the viewport. Kanan screamed in pain, clutching at his head as the Force tore it apart.

The vergence pulled at him, no longer warm and inviting but dark and twisted; corrupted beyond recognition. He could feel the death of his people burning though his mind, their pain bleeding into his veins like poison, stealing the breath from his lungs. So much hate, so much anger. Kanan was drowning in it.

Until he wasn’t.

Kanan sat hunched over in his seat with Hera kneeling beside him, the bright blue tunnel of hyperspace casting the cockpit in an eerie glow. His breath was ragged, echoing harshly in the enclosed space.

“Kanan?” Hera placed a hand on his shaking knee. His stomach revolted.

Springing from the chair, he ran to the ‘fresher, his knees colliding painfully on the metal floor as he choked up bile. The last thing he remembered was Hera’s cry before everything went blissfully dark.

-

Hera sat on the edge of the bed as Kanan slept. She dragged a wet cloth over his forehead, feeling the heat that radiated from his skin.

This was her fault, she thought numbly. She should have never asked him to do this but at the time, she was so sure the benefit would outweigh the risk. Now she wasn’t so sure.

Kanan moaned in his sleep, worry lines creasing his skin. Hera leaned down to kiss them away. “It’s alright love.” She whispered softly. “You’re safe.”

His teal eyes blinked open, wide and bright with fever. “Hera?”

“I’m right here, love.” She cupped his chin gently, the soft hairs of his beard tickling her palm. “you need to rest.”

“I can feel them.” He gasped, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “They’re dying.”

Hera’s heart shattered. “I know but it’s over now.” She stroked a thumb over his cheek. “You’re safe.”

She repeated the words until he drifted off again, his face slack and finally at peace. Hera sighed and leaned back against the bulkhead. There was a soft knock on the door followed by Sabine’s quiet voice.

“Hera?”

“Come in.” Hera called back. The doors swished open to let the young Mandalorian into Hera’s cabin. She looked at Kanan’s prone figure on the cot and frowned.

“The aid is all settled. We should reach Dantoonie in a few days.” She reported softly.

Hera nodded. “Good. I’ll let Fulcrum know.”

Sabine hesitated, still watching Kanan closely. “He’s Jedi isn’t he?” she asked.

“Sabine,” Hera sighed. “It’s not my place to say.”

“That’s why he didn’t want to go to Coruscant.” She carried on as if Hera hadn’t spoken. “That’s why he’s like this now? He’s a survivor.”

“It’s not my place to say.” Hera repeated more forcefully. “I’ll be out in just a minute okay?”

Sabine bit her lip in response before leaving, the doors sliding shut behind her. Hera ran a tender hand through Kanan’s sweaty hair.

“I’m sorry love.” A tear slipped down her face. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”  

[kth1]

Cut Shot [MYG]

Cut Shot [Yoongi x Reader] ⟶ Credit: @kimtaehyunq​​ ⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+| Boyfriend AU | One Shot ⟶ Warnings: Established relationship, explicit, oral (M/F), alcohol use, condom sex, massage oil, lovey-dovey-flirtations, hint of cute jealousy, etc ⟶ WC: 10k+ ⟶ Summary: He hates the water, he hates the heat, and he hates the Sun. Any form of physical activity is a big no-no, yet Min Yoongi will go out of his way to show that he loves you on your mini vacation. ⟶ Teaser: “Breathlessly nodding your head, you drone at the loss of his fingers. You beam a hazy smile, the post orgasm paradise you swim in radiates off you. “Let me help you,” your arms stretch out to him.” ⟶ Beta Reader: None other that @shadowsremedy​ (thank you for doing this in a timely manner 🧡 you’re awesome!) ⟶ Author’s Note: This fic is apart of @jamaisjoons​ Summer Bucket List Collab. This is my very first collab I have been apart of and I am very happy to have been associated with this project!

The blistering sun beams from above, heat rising scorching hot off the sands. Seagulls squawking in the distance, some scavenging around for disposed food – or snatching some from the unattained.

Yoongi trudges along the beach, black Raybands sit on the bridge of his adorable button nose, a large sunhat, sandals, an excessive tropical theme button-up shirt, and obnoxiously colored swim trunks to set his attire. With each step he takes, his feet kick up sand behind him, a half empty beer in hand in a pink koozie snuggled around the bottle as he sips away at his delicious beverage, merrily.

He sees you ahead, prancing around on the beach volleyball courts with your pony-tail rung high and skin glistening in the light. Right beside those said courts is his destination – the row of canopy tents that provided him his only relief. Shade!

Groups of people huddle around the area, humans of all ages, shapes, color, and size. He secretly hopes the smaller children applied much more sunscreen than normally, especially how they’ve been in and out of the ocean’s water at least five times now. But who’s counting?

Yoongi trails himself back to your shared designated tent, plopping himself down on the double wide reclining lawn chair. Here, he gets a front row seat at your court and some relaxing shade. Feet up, cooler full of snackable food and drinks besides him, and the best view in town – you.

You, the outgoing bubbly beauty, are playing a fun pick-up game with the rest of your party along with a handful of locals. Volleyball is your game much like music is Yoongi’s muse. Even with several differences in interest, the two of you get along quite well emotionally. 

Many times Yoongi catches you thanking Hoseok for introducing you to him, in all honesty that is the only way he would notice you. Yoongi prefers to stay in isolation, nose shoved deep in a music sheet or much too invested in staying in bed all day. Once in a while he will strike up a game of basketball with his friend group, but only on a good day.

At first Yoong was incredibly confused towards you. Why would you want to meet him? Who even were you and when or how did you guys ever run into another? Upon Hoseok’s persistent pleading, insisting that he ‘has a good feeling about the two of you’, Yoongi eventually agreed to meet up with this friend of Hoseok’s.

It was a small date, nothing fancy, just a warm afternoon coffee meet up in the middle of September. Yoongi sat with phone in hand, iced americano in the other, at the bar seats set up at the windowpane in the front of the store of the local café. He was so indulged at tapping away on his phone, he didn’t even register the presence of another standing right next to him. You found it utterly adorable how Yoongi nearly spat out his drink as he stood up to greet you properly, profusely apologizing for his behavior.

Yoongi admitted, he remained skeptical throughout the date, though he was completely intrigued by you. Not only were you attractive in his eyes, cute with a bit of a feisty bite, he admired the way you spoke. You had a hidden passion behind your words – you spoke with confidence, sometimes even assertive… and he liked that.

But, what he enjoyed most is how you would get lost in your words, ranting long sentences when you hadn’t realized you had said too much. Something about the way you talked perked his ears like a silent harp playing in the background of the world. What Yoongi noticed after that date was how you kept his attention the entire time. How it seemed that the two of you were vastly different in many ways, but he found something in you that reeled him in instantly. Before bidding goodbye after the cheap coffee date, he reached for your hand as he asked if you would like to do this again sometime.

Nine months later, he finds himself sitting court side to your beach volleyball game. On vacation with a few of his closest friends at a beach house along the coast. A quick getaway from home, promises of having some game nights and visiting a few touristy areas. The group was partially here to support you at your annual volleyball competition, but other than that they came to party.

“Got it!” you shout, alerting Hoseok – your current teammate – that you were receiving the ball. Yoongi watches as you dive forward into the tan sands, getting an arm under the ball just in time to pop it up for Hoseok to assist.

On the other side of the net, acting as your current rivals were Jungkook and Hoseok’s long-term girlfriend, Haru. They readied themselves up for a freeball to come over, acting fast when Hoseok sent the ball to the deep back corner of the court.

It is worth it to Yoongi to see your beautiful smile light up as you were enjoying the hobby you love most, watch you ravish the sport as if it were your natural element. The sweat beads off of your brow, forearms, even soaked the fabric slightly under each of your breasts of your bikini top. 

A small bickering emits from Jungkook by the looks of it, clearly arguing about something that he finds unfair but it soon washes over from Hoseok kicking up sand at another for the sake of giggles. 

You walk your way over to the tent with Haru after the two rambunctious men chase another towards the ocean. Your boyfriend, who looked completely unbothered by the environment around him even though you knew he’d do anything to be back inside with the cool air conditioner, welcomes you with a warm smile and an iced cold water bottle from the cooler that he has been monitoring because it harbors all the beers. 

“Hey babe,” you lean down, placing a quick peck to Yoongi’s plump lips. He tastes the salt of your sweat, and you taste the alcohol on his breath. “Day drinking much earlier than yesterday?”

Yoongi shrugs in his chair, tilting his head back to finish off his current beverage, “It’s 5pm somewhere... It’s a vacation after all.”

You guzzle down your fresh water, towel wrapping around your neck to help pat down the glistening sweat that coats you. “I’m not judging,” you smile with a wink, “just observing. I don’t want you to be bored.” 

“I’m not bored when I watch you. Plus it’s fun to see Jungkook get riled up.” 

Grabbing hold of one of the many randomly scattered candy bags, Jungkook’s unhealthy snack choices at it’s finest, you settle with a few gummy worms to toss in your mouth. “He does get worked up fast when it comes to games.” The two of you laugh while looking over at the ocean to see Jungkook having Hoseok flipped over his shoulder and walking deeper in the water for a proper body slam. 

“What should we have for dinner tonight? Home cooked or take-out?” Haru inquires, scanning over her phone for local restaurants that may peek the group’s interest. 

Yoongi checks the time on his watch, grimacing at the thought of food shopping so soon when it nearly took you all three hours. A wad of cash was eliminated from his bank account, in the store to pack for the trip in the first place. Thankfully you had offered to him that he wouldn’t have to pay a single dime the entire vacation to make up for covering everyone that day. 

“Let’s grab a bite somewhere, I’ve been to a place called Poseidon’s, lots of seafood and such! My treat.” You gleam a smile towards Yoongi who’s eyes widened at the word seafood, knowing very well how your man enjoys himself some nice cooked lobster. 

Another day, another play. 

Ever since visiting this great spot, your party visited the beach nearly every day! You on the other hand had no choice in the matter because you were practicing for your tournament at the end of the week with your partner. Annually, your old high school best friend and you would sign up for this beach tournament, catch up with another and reminisce on the younger years. It was only for the first week that you’d be tied to this obligation and luckily your group booked the rental house for two weeks, giving you more time with your friends afterwards. 

Maggie, someone who you grew up with ever since befriending another in middle school, was your go-to gal for years before college separated another. She continued to a division one school on an all paid scholarship for volleyball. Your interests were a bit more separate from hers and you find yourself attending a creative arts school, division three, but you still continued to play for your schools team. As much as volleyball will forever be embedded into your blood, you found a new focus when it came to creativity and joined a school where you’d learn how to become a creative director of some sorts. 

Together, Maggie and you spent most days making up the lost time. Your group was more than understanding prior to even agreeing to this vacation, and you all promised to make it worthwhile. One day, Yoongi had joined Maggie, her boyfriend Taehyung, and you on a lunch date. You were happy Yoongi showed up, given the fact that he’s a bit introverted and shy, but regardless the lunch went smoothly and to both Maggie’s and yours surprise - the two of you had found out that Taehyung and Yoongi knew another because they, too, went to the same high school.

Now, as you practice your heart out on the beach courts, Hoseok and Yoongi are padding their feet across the hot sands, hauling the belongings with a small wagon, far away from sight. 

“I know the basics - the idea of how to play.” Yoongi insists, “I just want to be able to play with her. Nothing fancy.” 

“Sounds pretty fancy to me. C’mon she’s the first girl to get you up off your ass. You must like her enough to endure the summer heat, exercising, the sun…” Hoseok counts off his fingers one by one.

“Alright, alright. I get it.” Yoongi shoves Hoseok in the shoulder. “Just get on with it and show me what I need to do.” 

“Ok, first, you smile wide like this!” Hoseok giggles and manages to duck just in time from Yoongi’s flying hand. 

The two pivot themselves off in the distance, much further down the beach than the volleyball courts could see, and far away from your view. To your knowledge the entire group dispersed to enjoy whichever activities they wish to do while you practiced with your partner. What you didn’t know is that Yoongi had asked Hoseok, on one of his drunken moods, for some one-on-one training so that he can pick up on the hobby you love most - to surprise you by the end of vacation and play a game of pick-up with you. 

“Pass this!” Abruptly, Hoseok chucks the beach volleyball at Yoongi - only for him to naturally catch it with his hands. “No! Shake that basketball reflex, arms together! And extend! Make a platform - now pass it.” 

Biting back his sharp tongue, Yoongi tosses the ball back for Hoseok to repeat the action, this time now he is prepared to pass it effortlessly with his forearms. 

“Great!” Hoseok squabbles, “but, now you need the proper position. Bend your knees.” 

“I have to bend them?” Yoongi reacts with a distasteful gesture. 

“Center of gravity needs to be low for movement. Don’t plant your feet! The sand makes it much harder to move in.” He scolds with a push of his hands to Yoongi’s back, knocking the older man off balance. “See, you’re off center!” 

Yoongi scoffs, “Pushing me around isn’t helping!” He fixes his friend with a stern glare through his cat-like eyes.

“Yeah, but it makes you focus. You do better when someone’s on your ass. I hear it all the time back at the apartment, Y/n is a bit… assertive in the bedroom.” Hoseok winks, eyes squinting from corner to corner. 

“It’s no better compared to the amount of broken furniture that came from your room,” Yoongi quickly retorts, “even the damn couch is still broken!”

Hoseok shrugs, “not my fault both Haru, and you enjoy being bossed around by their significant others.” 

Yoongi retaliates, “It’s not being bossed, maybe in your case, but not mine. We go both ways.” 

Hoseok tosses the ball once again, hoping to pepper aimlessly with Yoongi and get him used to moving around, “You sure about that? You’re a passive person, Yoongi. Even I can pick on you and get away with it.” Hoseok taunts with a light heart, returning the ball back and forth between the two of them. 

“Not everything is about being physical.” 

Hoseok smirks, a judging last look before lightly hitting the volleyball down into Yoongi’s platform with the snap of his wrist, “We have a lot to work on, especially when it comes to hand setting. Maybe tomorrow when Y/n isn’t around we can snag a court and play a game with Haru and Kook.”

“We’ve exhausted spades, go-fish, and even tried blackjack.” Jungkook slurs his words around the neck of his beer bottle. He curls up along the armchair where he aimlessly stares up at the ceiling fan, counting out how many times it spins until forgetting where he left off. 

“Well, it’s not the weekend just yet, so the bars won’t be that fun right now.” You speak, a small smile spread across your face as you glance over the table at your boyfriend who is nose deep into another playing card manual. 

Jungkook’s large eyes look at you with hope, “will you go bar hopping with us when we do?”

“We’ll see how tired I am after the tourney, but I would love to, Kook!” 

“Bullshit!” Hoseok’s voice pierced through the sound of pop music playing from Haru’s phone, hand slapping the table timed at the sound of his voice with a finger pointed up on the other as if a lightbulb had gone off above his head. Everyone glances over at him from the sudden outburst, “we haven’t played bullshit yet!” 

You blink, shock value very evident on your face at Hoseok’s accusation. “For a second I thought you were calling me out, saying I wasn’t going to go out.” Laughing, you gather up a handful of playing cards that scattered the tabletop and begin shuffling the deck. 

“Well, that too. We’ve been here only a few days, but you’ve been a bit too busy for some things. And a bit cranky at night too.” Haru jabs Hoseok with her elbow to his side, making him wince the moment her pointy bone contacted him. 

Raising a questioning eyebrow at him, you briefly peeped over at Yoongi who only raised his shoulders to indicate his indifferences under your stare. 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter. “This tournament is important to me, and it’ll be over just after the weekend. We’ll still have a few extra days for activities.”

“Yeah, noona is going to dance with me. It’s already set.” Sweet, drunken Jungkook sighs, head tilt back on his chair. His lips pursed, eyes closed as he imagines the upcoming bar crawl. 

Yoongi interjects, head snapping up to glare over Jungkook, “You’re not going to get all handsy with my girlfriend.” He frowns, tossing a handful of papers to the side. “There’s plenty of single locals here. You’ll have no problem picking one up at a bar.” 

Jungkook peeks one eye open, a cocky grin drawn to his face, “Worried about me taking Y/n?” 

You sit there rolling your eyes, Hoseok too preoccupied by Haru snuggling up against him, and Yoongi death staring Jungkook - probably lighting him on fire in his mind. 

“As if.” Yoongi challenges, grabbing hold of his almost empty drink to finish off with one swig. 

“Guess noona never told you about Valentine’s day weekend? It was magical.” Jungkook snickers, until the push of Yoongi’s chair alerts the younger one of his hyung standing up, ready to go straight for Jungkook. Quickly, the tyrant Jungkook, jumps himself off the chair, throwing a pillow back towards Yoongi as he scampers his way down the hall, away from Yoongi’s wrath and out of view. 

Yoongi shakes his head, “this kid is always so scared of me.” He collects the litter of empty bottles from the coffee table, gathers up the useless waste of napkins and food wrappers around the room to dispose of them in the trash. 

“I’m sure he has many reasons to fear you. I had only given him a kiss to his hand when he burnt it when taking the pizza out of the oven. Guess that’s enough leverage for him to toy with.” You laugh, joining him along with cleaning up the table where you sit. 

“I know,” he chuckles. “The moment it happened he came running into the living room to tell me. He acts like there was more to that.” Yoongi side-eyes you skeptically, almost playfully, “better be all that there was.” 

For some time now, Haru rests her head against Hoseok’s shoulder and you were sure she was probably too tired to do much else, especially at the way she nearly tilts forward when Hoseok moves his body. Haru braces herself quickly, eyes shot wide, and glances you with a sheepish smile. 

“Go to bed.” you urge, “both of you. Aren’t you going to the festival in the morning with us? Get some rest.” 

Both Haru and Hoseok sluggishly get up from their spots, placing a few empty glasses to the counter before departing the room to their quarters. It is a bit late after all, and once the alcohol sinks in a bit everyone starts feeling a bit tired. You’re sure by morning everyone will be rejuvenated, energized to go straight back to partying. 

Without notice, Yoongi stood behind you, resting his hands on both of your shoulders. “Hey…” He whispers.

You make a noise of acknowledgement, raising one of your hands to lay on top of his to rub soft circles around his knuckles.

“You okay, babe? You seem… stressed.” His hands emphasized the word by lightly squeezing the tendons of your shoulders. He feels your body react instantly, the tightness of your back slowly being worked over with his firm thumbs. Rolling over a tight knot, the flick of his thumb forces you to jolt from the straining muscle.

You laugh at your reaction, “Yeah. I guess I am. I’ve been so busy with practicing for the tourney, I guess I haven’t noticed my body has been so –“

“Stiff?” He is quick to finish your sentence, dipping his head down to peck an innocent kiss to your head. You nod with a sigh.

“You’ve been so occupied,” his lips came back down, “you probably forgot that you’re on a vacation.” He smirks into your hair, running his fingers up your neck to your jaw. Yoongi tilts your head back, enough to kiss you upside down.

It's lazy at first, soft pouty lips peppering another in sync. Until Yoongi deepens the kiss, daring himself to push his tongue into your mouth. The wet muscle met with you in a savory passion.

He tastes just as you expect, a hidden spike of whiskey and the odd flavor of mint lingering on his breath.

“Come.” Yoongi breaks away. Walking in front of where you sit he takes your hand in his, leading the two of you back to your bedroom.

“Yoongi…” you drawl out the syllables of his name with a sigh of defeat. “Yoongi, I’m sore.”

Before making it completely down the hallway, he pulls you into him with an arm snaked around your waist and a hand lifting your chin. With a soft smile across his face he gazes down at you with mirth, “I know babe, I’m here to make it better.”

You smile, raising your eyebrows in question, “Oh, yeah?”

Yoongi almost matches your mannerism, but instead gives you a sly look with a poke to your nose. “Yes. Now come.” With a flip you’re facing forward. His arms securely around your middle, Yoongi proceeds to waddle the two of you the rest of the way down the hall and into your room with a fit of shared giggles.

He kicks the door close behind him, ushering you to the edge of your shared bed. Before he let you turn, nuzzling his head between the crook of your neck to leave fleeting kisses across your supple skin.

“Can I take this off?” he whispers, picking at the hem of your shirt.

You hum a tone of acknowledgement, smirking as Yoongi raises the loose material off your body. From here he can see your tan lines complemented by your sports bra, a slight shade darker than your beautiful natural skin tone.

He lightly tugs at one of the crossed straps, allowing it snap against your back. “This too.”

You look over your shoulder with a playful smile, “Of course.”

Cuffing the bottom of your bra you raise it up, allowing freedom to your soft set of mounds before Yoongi is fast in scoping both up with his hands before you could toss away the piece of clothing.

After disposing your athletic top his lips peppered along your shoulder blade.

“Now what?” You question while topping your hands over his.

“Lay down for me,” he directs with a loving slap to your right ass cheek, “face in the pillows.”

Cautiously, you kneel your way up the length of the bed, watching Yoongi who had walked over to a bag besides the dresser. He shuffles through its contents before pulling out a clear bottle with a rosé color top. Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion while pressing your cheek to the fluff of a pillow.

Reading into your quizzical look your boyfriend responds with a wink, “Amber and argan oil.” He teasingly shook the container while stepping closer to the bed.

“You brought massage oil?” You ask, stunned.

“Thought we’d try it out.” Yoongi shrugs, lifting the remainders of your hair off your back, clearing up his workspace.

You groan with satisfaction as Yoongi perches himself over your body, resting his ass on the back of your thighs. “Mmm, I fucking love you,” you giggle into the sheets.

The sound of the cap popping off the bottle arouses your ears and soon enough you feel the lukewarm drizzle down the base of your spine. Its lightweight aroma is subtle, but has a soothing sweet smell. 

Instantly your body melted into Yoongi’s fingertips, they diligently work the slippery liquid across your skin.

“I love you, too.” The smile is heard through his voice. He enjoys the way your back arches towards his hands, the way it chases his touch. He isn’t featherlight, his deft fingers are trained well against the taught muscles of your back, aiming to help un-knot you a bit.

His thumbs are quick to find the tightness along your shoulder blades, taking note to pay special attention to the areas with rigid and stressed muscles.

You deeply sigh into the pillow; eyes close comfortably in relaxation by Yoongi’s skillful digits.

A soft chuckle resounds from his chest, “you’re already moaning for me, babe?”

You nod your head, unashamed.

He watches the scattered goosebumps decorating your back appear and deplete in small fractions. Takes in your sun-kissed skin, the smooth gleam of oil slicking the surface. He smirks at your soft noises and the pleas that ask him to go softer or harder.

Boldly, Yoongi makes an effort to venture lower, dipping his hands into the waistband of your shorts. He rests the elastic below the swell of your ass, grabbing a firm handful of cheek in both palms.

You grumble in submission, not particularly upset with his choice of massage pattern.

Involuntarily, your body acts on its own accord. Arching yourself to further lift your bottom into his kneading hands.

“Careful, Y/n.” Yoongi spiritedly warns. “You’re going to make me hard if you keep that up.”

His thumbs hooked into the muscle of your exposed butt, applying a strong prod into the tenderness. You squirm under him, teeth trapping your bottom lip as a small mewl escapes your nose.

“Easy, easy!” He lets up, moving his hands to your hips. Running circles into your skin with the pads of his fingers, he continues to coax you. “I’m just trying to loosen you up.”

“I know. It feels good. It feels really good, Yoongi.” Huffing with a laugh, “I can’t believe how sore I am.”

Yoongi leans up, clutching his hands around your shoulders and casually dipping himself closer to you. “I can,” he whispers. Yoongi plants a small kiss between your shoulder blades, his hips leaning closer to the round of your ass. There you feel it – a slow drag along the crack of your cheeks of his hardening dick stuffed insides his shorts. He hums when you purposely push up to feel him more.

“I see that someone else also needs to loosen up a bit.”

Yoongi leaves room for you to spin in your spot. Once face-to-face he dips his head closer to yours, nudging your nose against his. “Maybe. Will you help me?”

Your hands raise the material of his shirt up his thin torso, watching Yoongi expertly yank it off in one swift movement.

“Of course, I’ll help you.”

Your smile met his lips with a soft peck that soon turns into a more heated make-out. Your tongue grinds against his just how his hips did into your pelvis.

Those nimble hands of yours traveled the expanse of his sides, legs raised for him to slot between. The kiss races into fervor, your fingers brush against his undercut, tugging at his thick locks and his fingers are desperate to tease your nipples. 

You missed this, you missed him.

“Hold on, let me grab a condom.” Yoongi detaches his lips from yours reluctantly, retrieving a foil pack from a nearby drawer.

Your tongue quickly swipes between your parted lips, watching with a craned neck at your boyfriend who exhausted no time clearing his shorts and slinking the rubber snug along his swollen length. With a few languid tugs at his cock he wiggles his eyebrows towards you. 

Whining almost pathetically, you rub your thighs together as you take his image in. Your boyfriend is handsome after all, you yearned to meet him many months ago because of your massive attraction to the way he looked. Learning to love him, and how dedicated and invested he is with parts of his life which make him happy – you being one of those things. 

You grow more attracted to his whole being, ethos and all. His intuition, spirit, and character as a whole is what draws you into him every time. He makes you feel normal and special at the same time. Yoongi has a way about him that always makes you think about how deep his mind actually can be, always surprising you when he opens up. 

Yoongi saunters back over to you, hands at your knees and running up the plane of your thighs to pull your bottoms off with your assistance.

“Wanna see how wet you are,” he rasps with the spread of your knees. Yoongi positions himself between your limbs, groaning when your slick glistens in the light. Inserting two fingers with little resistance, he listens to the high pitch breath that catches in your throat. With a thumb at your clit and two fingers knuckle deep – he sets a speedy pace.

You clench and unclench in unison to his pads stroking against the rough spongy area embedded in your walls. Yoongi stares at the rise and fall of your chest, the way your mouth parts with each soft moan. You’re beautiful and he knows it, but he wants you to know it – and feel it.  

The warm sensational build up lingers in the pit of your stomach, an all too familiar sign to tell you’re coming close to your peak. Yoongi smirks, noticing this behavior, if not by the way your legs wiggle more and the way your head tosses to the side, but also by the way your cunt tightens around his two slim digits.

“Yoongi –“

His name rolls off your tongue as lustful as ever, your hand latching around the wrist connected to the fingers that assault your in a blissful manner. With his unoccupied hand now holding your hips in place, he inclines his head closer to your core. He replaces his thumb with his mouth, matching the rhythm of his deft fingers.

You shutter underneath him, both hands carding his hair for purchase while waves of pleasure vibrated through your cunt and the expanse of your body. The cream gathering around his fingers made its way into his mouth, savoring your natural essence.

“Feel good?”

Breathlessly nodding your head, you drone at the loss of his fingers. You beam a hazy smile, the post orgasm paradise you swim in radiates off you. “Let me help you,” your arms stretch out to him.

Gladly, Yoongi careens closer, angling himself expertly so that the tip of his condom-covered cock dipped within your folds. Without dithering he pushes forward, sinking his cock in your wall-hugging slippery warmth. Inch by inch he disappears inside you, hitting the base of his pelvis against your clit. With arms snaked around your naked body he rests his head against your shoulder, turned enough to nip along your jawline.

His dick fills you up completely, deliciously. If it wasn’t for the slow shallow deep thrusts he gave your cunt, you’d be completely happy just holding him inside you for hours. In this position it was easy to grind himself into your clit, also easier to lock eyes with your flushed-out expressions.

The two of you exchange pleasurable moans that boosts another’s confidence. Audible noises that turned each other on even more, stroking your lustful pride that the both of you are fully enjoying the dirty act.

“Faster, please.” You match your hips up with his. Squelching noises fill the room with the snap of Yoongi’s thrusts. The wetter you get, the more tempting it is for Yoongi to ram straight into his your pretty cunt.

The jutting of his body scoots yours up with each stride, your legs locked around his waist and arms hooked around his back to anchor yourself. 

Sweat coats around his hairline, threatening to form droplets that eventually would escape his body. The summer night’s dry air hugs the two of you, rising temperatures amplifying your bodies. The smell of sex loiters in the room, no doubt. And you silently thank that famous engineer for inventing the air conditioner, the one that sat in the window to your right - you’re positive the both of you will rush straight to it after this intimacy ended. 

Between grunts, Yoongi whispers profanities. Swearing under his breath and murmuring dirty words into the shell of your ear. “Did you like my fingers in you?” “Like this cock deep inside you?” “You feel fuckin’ fantastic.” “I want to bury myself inside this pussy every night.” “I love you.”

Each sentence fills your mind, swirling your emotions and hormones. It is hot. You sang back your appeals, smiled wide as he sends your body into pleasure.

“Flip.” You request, hauling Yoongi enough to make him roll with you.

You settle atop him, dick still very much intact inside your body. Yoongi gazes at you with hooded eyes, his hair fanning around his head. The beat of his heart matched the same pace as your own, both panting for oxygen and running with the enjoyment your bodies are experiencing.

Bouncing on him with what little strength you still have, you fuck yourself on his swollen cock while Yoongi’s hands are gripping your waist like a vice. The bed squeaks under your weight, his head bobs along with your ministrations, Yoongi’s jagged breath warns you that you’re doing exactly what his body wants.

“Babe, I’m…“

“Me too.” You gasp once his thumb locks onto your clit again, drawing figure-eights quickly. Your walls squeeze around his tender length, body jerking with each ambitious dive of his cock into your cervix.

Yoongi’s head tosses back, brows furrowed in concentration while his bottom lip traps itself between his set of teeth. The erratic moment of your body convulsing on top of him made him lose it – draining himself in the condom with lewd moans and nails digging into the flesh of your hips.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he chants with declaration. Mere seconds after his orgasm, you find your second one. A cry breaking free from your mouth, you rock yourself on his shaft throughout your fervent ride, arousal seeping all around his pubic hairs.

Leaning down, you kiss another between labored breaths, “Thank you so much.”

He snorts a laugh, holding you against his chest as his softening dick slips out from your spent hole. “You feel a bit better?”

“A lot better.”

As much as you love to cuddle against your boyfriend, the two of you became much more socially aware of how agonizingly sticky your bodies have become. Unenthusiastically, you peel yourself off the top of Yoongi, rolling yourself to your back. You stare senselessly at the air conditioner that mocks you, frowning about how far of reach it is from the bedside. 

“You think if we turn it on full blast, by the time we’re done with a shower it will be super cold in here?” Yoongi asks, sitting himself to the edge of the bed to carefully yank off the condom without spilling his seed. He looks over his shoulder to you, back and buttcrack exposed to your view and you couldn’t help but smirk fondly at him. 

“God, I hope so. I feel so disgusting right now.” 

Giving yourself enough recuperation time, the two of you finally lift yourselves off the bed, turn on the air conditioner and work your way to the bathroom. The brisk shower remains lukewarm, the sticky sweat washes away with soap sudz and water. Your boyfriend and you came back to a frigid bedroom, a perfect temperature to slink bodies together and canoodle another under the comfort of a blanket for the rest of the night. 

Rejuvenation at its finest, indeed.

Now that it’s Friday - a day before your tournament - you join the group along with the festivities taking hold at the beach front. You share a way-too-sweet customized coffee, some delicious chocolate dipped churros and apple fritters with Yoongi. Battle Haru and Hoseok with the water-shooting contest and also were able to pick out a few hand-made beaded bracelets to gift to your entire party. 

Jungkook and Yoongi went head to head at being the winner with the highest score on the dunk tank, earning one of the larger stuffed purple koalas. To your amusement, and Jungkook’s ego, he gifts you the prize after rubbing his victory in Yoongi’s face. 

“He does it on purpose, Yoongi.” your arm linking around his, watching Hoseok share a singular strawberry malt with Haru between two straws. A corny-coupley thing that you find cute. 

Yoongi tips his hat forward, rubbing his nose quickly to act as if he wasn’t bothered. “I let him win that.” 

“Right,” you peck his shoulder with a kiss. “You reacting the way you do only compels him to continue.” 

“Yeah, one day he’s going to get it,” he pouts, turning over to look at you with a concerned look. “Can’t have him thinking he has any chance.” 

You bite back a smile, squeezing his arm tighter to your body. “Never. Kook isn’t my type.”

“And what is?”

“You,” you coo, grabbing hold of Yoongi for a kiss now to his lips. “Your voice, eyes, that gummy smile of yours.”

“Irrelevant.” Yoongi smirks, nudging you forward toward a booth with swinging basketball hoops. 

“That deep sexy voice of yours, especially in the mornings when I wake up next to you.” You continued to list more things off despite Yoongi’s pleas for you to stop. “I even have a thing for…” you look down his front with a playful smile, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

“Enough, enough!” he laughs, shaking his head at your ridiculousness. 

Even though from the outside it never seems like Yoongi enjoys attention, compliments, or too many loads of love - you know he appreciates everything positive you say about him. 

“But, what I like most,” Yoongi pays a staff member a few dollars for his shot at the game. You watch his first throw, sinking the ball straight into the moving basket that is purposely bent to rig the game. “The way you are very genuine about everything. You wear your heart on your sleeve. How you can’t hide your fond expressions when someone you care for does something endearing. When you shy away from affection but secretly crave it.”

Yoongi turns his head to look you in the eyes, even with puzzlement dressing his soft face you can see the wonder lurking in his sharp eyes. He shuffles his basketball between his hands anxiously, anticipating your next words. 

“You have one of the most kindest of hearts I have ever had the privilege of getting to know. And I love you.” 

With another flick of his wrist his ball goes to the air, bouncing against the backboard of the moving basket and lulls itself into the hoop. You see the bob of his Adam's apple, a slight furrow of his brow, but what you can’t realize is how your words truly affect him. You live with the comfort knowing that Yoongi has a hard way of expressing his emotions, the thoughts in his mind that race in and out can not form coherent sentences to explain what he is feeling. 

Managing to score four out of the five throws, Yoongi alternatively wins a prize from the top shelf. His hand skims the small of your back, drawing you closer to his side as he requests you to pick one to your liking. You point at a stuffed flamingo, excitement runs through you when the item turns out much more softer to the touch than what it looks like - much like your boyfriend who now stares down at you with precaution. 

“I love you, too.” he mutters, a small coy smile spreading across his lips. 

You had practiced one last time with Maggie before the tournament day, during which Yoongi and Hoseok managed to snag in more volleyball learning without your notice. Even this time they had Haru and Jungkook to help with learning, and surprisingly Yoongi had caught on to the game fairly fast. Even shocking Hoseok with the way Yoongi became a very strong setter with lack of experience. Something about Yoongi with his hands made everything come a bit natural. 

You try - try - your best to go to bed at a decent hour that night, considering that you had to wake up and check-in to your tournament by eight in the morning, set up your canopy and figure out which court you’d be playing on. It was hard to fall asleep at a reasonable hour no thanks to Hoseok’s obnoxiously loud laughter and sputtering words that broke through even the heaviest set of walls. Not even the hush of the air conditioner blowing cold air on high could overcome the harsh vocals of tipsy Hoseok. 

Thankfully, your boyfriend who checks on you a few times within the early night solves the problem of the loud outbursts emitting from the living area of the house. Mainly after the death glare you had shot him with only out of annoyance and a curse under your breath saying “i’m going to fuckin’ murder Hobi if he doesn’t shut the hell up.” 

It was quiet after that and the moment your body found solitude to drift itself into slumber it was comforted by the warmth of Yoongi’s arm slinking around your waist, drawing your body against his as his warm breath fans out of his nose into the back of your neck. 

Your eyes remain shut until the blurting noise from your cell phone awoken you in the morning. 

Now you find yourself in your first match, first set against an opposing team. The air runs from the ocean, a cool breeze before the hot summer sun decides to warm up the sand below your feet. Pool play usually is hit or miss, sometimes a random good team would dominate the other teams in the pool, and luckily you were that very team. 

As the day runs, both you and Maggie go against the other four teams - coming out on top in each match, besides one where the teams split wins. You’re feeling great, Maggie and you become a massive threat towards nearby courts, people knowing who may be the future competition once pool play is over and the winning teams advanced to the next level. 

During the middle of your games, your party finally joined Maggie’s boyfriend under the tent, in favor to help support you to the fullest. It makes you happy to see your favorite humans watch you do well, a boost of confidence always spiking when you can hear the loudest cheers from the sideline knowing damn well it was your good friends rooting you on. 

Tip-toeing along the hot sand side-by-side with Maggie, you run over to give Yoongi a quick hug as you collapse yourself on his seat. “Slept in later than expected?” You tease, noting the time on your watch. 

Yoongi ticks his head towards the youngest who had found purchase in a lounge chair, beach blanket covering his body, “He got a bit more wasted than he expected. Took Hobi and I three different styles of waking his ass up.” 

“And what was the solution?” You laugh with the twist of your water bottle cap, graciously taking a well deserved swig of fresh water. 

“Titty-twisters.” 

You hear a subtle groan from under the blanket of which Jungkook lays, earning a chuckle from the crowd around him. 

“I see,” you snuggle yourself closer into Yoongi’s embrace. “Guess Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to dance with me tonight after the tourney...” 

“Wait - no! I’m fine!” He jumps up, blanket falling off abruptly to unveil the round, red, puffy, sleepless eyes of Jungkook. They wince due to the sunlight bouncing off the surroundings, hair array every way possible. “We’re dancing!” 

“Get more rest and some tylenol in you before even thinking about going to the bar tonight.” You scold, tossing him a random snack from the side pocket of your duffle bag. “And start eating some non-greasy things.” 

Both Maggie and you had finished your lengthy beach tournament; ending up losing in the finals against one of the recurring top teams known to play at this competition. It was close of course, only losing by a few point differentials but it didn’t matter to either one of you at that point in the day because second place has been the farthest the two of you ever had come in the years of playing in this tournament. After surpassing through the semifinals, the two of you were content with whichever outcome you had coming. 

And hey, you guys still won some cash prizes for being in second seat!

After packing up your canopy, riding back to your temporary vacation home to wash up and take a small nap before heading out for the night, you had promised the entire group that you’d take care of tonight's bill and urged the drinkers to go buckwild. 

Poseidon’s pub and nightclub is one of the top hotspots in this area, great live bands every weekend with two different decks and three separate bars, this establishment was your top priority to show off to your friends. By the time your party shows up to the club it’s blasting out loud pop music and flashing lights all around. 

Jungkook, who had slept off his previous night’s hangover, has been completely recuperated and is ready for another night of binge drinking. Hoseok and Haru were first at the nearest bar, darting over to grab a handful of shots to start up the night with courtesy of handing over your card to the bartender for the tab. Yoongi holds you close throughout the waves of bodies dancing and lingering around the floor, your eyes set to your phone as you text Maggie that you had arrived and hope to see her - eventually. 

It wasn’t long until everyone found their inspiration to party, exhaustion aside and now jitters coursing through your body like fireworks, perhaps it was thanks to the alcohol sinking into your system. Bioluminescence lights glisten off the top of your boyfriend's hair in which you run your fingers through, reflecting off just how it did to everyones; his dark sharp-cut eyes even darker with the lighting around him. He smells of fresh aftershave, a minty aroma tingling your nose as you drive your face into the crook of his neck. 

You two enjoy a slow grind to the current song, swinging your hips in sync with another’s, hands never daring to leave each other’s body. Yoongi milked his beers after the first round of shots, tried claiming that liquor before beer you’re in the clear, until Jungkook slides the two of you each a larger drink; a bright red concoction of something massively fruity with a single cherry topping above the ice. 

“It’s called the Red Devil! Haru had one, I had one, now it’s your turn! It’s so good!” Jungkook yells above the music between the two of you, slinking his body against Yoongi and you due to the small areas between other bodies. Jungkook practically shoves a glass into your lips, the other in front of Yoongi’s chest, forcing the two of you to separate enough to clutch each glass. 

“It smells like shit.” Yoongi grimaces, mouth turning downwards into a harsh frown. 

You on the other hand, have no choice but to taste the alcoholic drink because of the clink of the glass against your teeth. It was sweet at first, an indistinctive flavor touching your tongue, causing you to inspect the red liquid as you ponder. Until you see the wide smile from Jungkook, teeth beaming towards you with a mischievous grin. That’s when you notice the tang of flavor spikes, an after taste of cinnamon practically burning its way down your esophagus. 

Coughing, you push the glass back to Jungkook, eyes slightly watering from the sudden flavor. “Oh god, you know I can’t handle spicy shit. That thing is vile!” 

“It’s called Red Devil for a reason!” He laughs, taking the drink back and gulping down a portion of it. At this point Jungkook is going to revisit another nasty hangover in the morning, but you can’t blame him for enjoying his vacation to the fullest. 

Yoongi pushes the glass back to Jungkook, “Give it to Hobi, I'm not drinking this.” 

Infuriating enough, the youngest pushes the glass back, “you give it to him. It’s about time I get my dance with Y/n anyways. You’ve been hogging her all night.” 

“She’s my girlfriend!”

It’s possible that the larger crowd and uncountable ounces of alcohol that Jungkook has taken, causes him to be much more bolder, brasher than usual. He ignores the glare Yoongi sends his way, especially when Jungkook steps between the two of you; back now facing Yoongi. 

You raise your eyebrows at Yoongi, shrugging into your sentence, “Just one song. I’ll come right back to you. I did promise him I'd dance with him.” 

Yoongi doesn’t stay mad too long, but now both of his hands occupy glasses of an unfavorable drink as he walks away to search for Hoseok. He knows Jungkook is just going to pester them the rest of the night if he refuses to allow it and a dance isn’t harmful at all. Even when he perches himself against the wall besides Hoseok and Haru, eyes watching you stare back at him with a smile. 

“You going to pick up any of these people around us?” You question Jungkook who gyrates around you to the new upbeat flow of music. It’s more cluby now, the song switches between motions of fast pace and a slow break down during the chorus, Jungkook perfectly matching the synergy of the music. You glance over at Yoongi a handful of times, shaking your head at Jungkook’s perky dance moves and laughing with the amusement that dresses his face. 

“Actually, I have one coming back with us already - if that’s cool.” Jungkook swings your body around, his front now facing your back. He places his chin on your shoulder as he scans the bodies dancing around. “Long black hair, mini skirt, nine o’clock.” 

“Oh, i’m impressed, you’re a fast worker.” You laugh, spinning back around in place. You push Jungkook softly against his chest, “I expect you to go dance with them instead of me.” 

Jungkook pouts, hair falling short in front of his eyes from bopping his head, “but I have a vendetta with Yoongi, gotta get in my daily annoyance. Plus you’re fun to dance with.” 

“You really do enjoy messing with him.”

Jungkook nods excitedly, eyes scanning the perimeter until he spots the dark haired elder leaning against the wall staring straight back at him. He takes both of your hands in his, raises them up to make kissy noises against each of your knuckles as he laughs along with you. The second Yoongi pushes himself off the wall, Jungkook snaps his head back towards you, bids you farwell and rushes himself through the crowd towards his new acquaintance.

You match Yoongi’s trudges, meeting up with him halfway before he could go any further towards Jungkook. By the look on his face you can tell he was ready to show his dongsaeng who’s boss. 

“Ya know, you’re kind of cute when you get jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” Yoongi rebukes. 

“Are you mad?”

Looking over Yoongi’s features, his posture remained relaxed but his eyes looked like they were burning holes into the back of Jungkook’s head. “Nah. I just think Jungkook wants to play. It’s funny, honestly. Just don’t tell him that. I’ll just let him believe that i’m mad.” 

His hands lock themselves around your waist, drawing you in closer to his frame. “If anything,” Yoongi latches his lips to yours, “he’s the one who’s jealous. He can’t have you.” 

Soft moans escape through Yoongi’s parted mouth, lips slightly trembling with pleasure building up within his body. You hollow your mouth as much as possible, dipping your head as far down as you could take him before your gag reflex threatens to betray you. Saliva accumulated around the base of his cock, your free hand wraps around the skin you couldn’t fit inside of your mouth just to help add sensations to his entire length. 

It was early, you can see the subtle light leaking through the crack of the curtains of your room; light chirping of seagulls out in the distance along with the winds banging against the chimes outside on the deck. Yoongi’s hand assists with holding your hair up as your head towers his cock, bobbing it up and down beneath the covers. 

The two of you did sleep quite well once you got home, even managing to ignore the random bumps and noises coming out of Jungkook’s neighboring room - he did end up taking that random person back home. 

Though you couldn’t get as drunk as you’d like between the tiredness your body has already undergone, holding Haru’s hair back from puking her stomach out in the club’s bathroom and dealing with a much more drunken Yoongi. Once you rallied up your troops you closed your tab, called a cab and headed home for the night. 

“S-suck harder.” Yoongi begs you in a whisper, cock twitching inside your mouth. 

You slurp, hard, on your next drag up his length. Yoongi inhales sharply, fist tightening within your hair and hips bucking up to chase your mouth. He was coming close to unfolding himself into you, visions of dressing your mouth with his white hot cum rushing through his mind. 

By introducing your free hand to his balls you earn a low guttural groan from Yoongi. Massaging them gently within your palm as you tease your tongue right under the head of his dick. He chokes on his words, hand abruptly forcing your head down to take his cock deeper as he empties himself deep in your throat. 

After swallowing what you can, you wipe your lips off with the back of your hand; other hand lazily tugging Yoongi’s softening cock. You smile up at him. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles, voice croaky. 

He was half asleep when you began to suck your boyfriend off but now you were sure he had become wide awake. 

“I’m sorry I woke you.” 

“I can’t complain.” He smiles lazily, eyes closing as he embraces his post orgasm state. 

Climbing up the side of his body, you card yourself into his arm as you snuggle closer with the blanket. Yoongi looks so at ease with the moment even with the disheveled bed head he’s rocking and puffy cheeks. 

His hand slowly rubs against your back in a soothing pattern, fingers featherlight with each tender stroke. 

“Do you want me to make you some coffee?” You offer, knowing well that Yoongi needed some substance other than alcohol to enter his system. 

Yoongi shakes his head, deciding to curl himself up against you instead, “No, not right now. I just want to stay like this.” 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you remained in each other's embrace, Yoongi quickly fell back asleep against you. The soft pitter-patters of feet outside your room notified you that somebody - probably Hoseok - was up and shuffling his way to the kitchen. Silently, you slip yourself out of Yoongi’s arms and throw on a pair of shorts so you weren’t walking around in just a shirt and underwear. 

“Morning,” you chirp as you enter the kitchen, seeing Hoseok staring at the coffee machine as it drains itself into his awaiting mug. He grumbles his acknowledgment, clearly a bit cranky.

“Jungkook keep you up?” 

“No.” Hoseok sighs, rubbing his hands over his sleep-crusted eyes, “Haru wouldn’t stop crying. She kept saying how sorry she was for throwing up and was worried that she would spend the entire day in bed with a hangover.” 

You voice an ‘oh’ as you place your own mug to the coffee machine after Hoseok takes his in hand, wrapping around the island counter to sit on one of the stools. 

“What time did you manage to sleep?”

“Six.” 

The automatic clock hung on the kitchen wall and flashed a few minutes after eight. You clench your teeth together and you see Hoseok nod in affirmation. “Yeah.” 

You pat Hoseok on the back after grabbing your fresh coffee before shagging his hair up, “Try to get a nap sometime today. I think Jungkook wanted to go to the beach again after hitting up a few shops, you’re more than welcome to come along.” 

“I had already told Yoongi I'd help him with something but we’ll meet you guys at the beach!” 

Before leaving to go back to your room and hand over the cup of coffee to Yoongi, you give Hoseok a confused look. He avoids your eyes, averting his own to the magazines scattered around the counter. 

“You literally have twenty minutes before Y/n comes back here with Jungkook. He’s been trying to stall her as much as possible.” Hoseok warns Yoongi as he stomps his way through the sand and back to the court, hands rubbing the extra sun-screen across his skin. 

“I shouldn’t have drank so much last night.” Yoongi frowns at the volleyball in his hands; he stands at one endline and waits for Hoseok to walk on the court on the other side.

Haru, who also is suffering from too much intoxication, holds her own as a setter between the two courts, ducking herself beneath the net everytime the ball gets sent over. As long as Yoongi and Hoseok maintained control of the ball they could pass it to her zone so she didn’t have to do as much work. 

They play a game, not massively competitive, but enough to get warmed up before you come back for Yoongi’s surprise. He has worked incredibly hard in secrecy. Also, Hoseok proved himself as a decent volleyball coach in the making. 

“Burn it off. I saw you chug a good amount of water already. Work through it and you’ll sober up.”

“I just don’t want to be a complete ass when I play with her.” The sun beams down hard from above; Yoongi’s hat, arms, and feet burn from the contact of the extra exposure. He made sure to apply his own sunscreen at least three separate times ever since he’s been outside, and as much as he loathes the heat and unbearable humidity, he still chooses to play the sport you love most. 

Yoongi serves the ball enough to lollipop the ball over the net in Hoseok’s vicinity. They practice, all three of them, enough to rally the volleyball around. Yoongi still has his moments where he refuses to bend his knees for a pass, insisting that the ball was ‘too high’ for his liking. But what surprises Hoseok the most is Yoongi’s ability to jump fairly high in the sand, it must be the basketball skills that help him perform much better. 

In the middle of a play the group hears a yell from afar. As they turn, they see Jungkook waving his hands in the air with a cheerful smile in the distance, bags in each hand swing aimlessly with his movements. “We’re here!” he screams across the beach, ignoring all the curious bystander’s stares. 

You trail behind Jungkook, tugging the cooler on wheels behind you. Even as you walk towards the courts, your head tilts left and right like a puppy trying to understand what you think you had just seen. Did you see what you think your eyes saw? Is your boyfriend standing in the open sun, on a volleyball court, with a volleyball in his hands right now?

“What are you doing?” You question Yoongi as you step closer, plopping down the cooler under the pitched tent. You’re befuddled, looking between Haru, Hoseok and Yoongi as you try to process any ideas on what is actually going on. 

“I wanted to surprise you.” Yoongi, who now seems incredibly embarrassed with his hand rubbing the back of his neck, spoke softly towards you. 

You smirk with joy, touched that Yoongi has gone out of his way, out of his comfort, to surprise you with a sweet gesture. “Where did you? How? When did you learn?” 

“Hobi’s been helping me a little, i’m not great, but i’m alright.” 

Running over to hug your boyfriend, you giggle into his chest. “This is the cutest thing, I don’t even know what to say.” 

“Say ‘Heads or Tails’.” 

“What?” You turn to look at Jungkook who holds a coin in his hand, prepping it to flip in the air.

“You and Yoongi verses Hobi and I.” He smiles wide, tossing the coin up high into the air. “Call it!”

In unison both Yoongi and you declare tails, and as the coin is caught and flipped in Jungkook’s hand, it reveals that very end. 

“We’ll take recieve.” You chime in, excited with the way Yoongi challenges Jungkook with playful banter. 

Enthusiastically, the groups plant themselves on opposite sides. Whispering small strategies and goals. You tell Yoongi to aim for Hoseok, keep it away from Jungkook, mainly because Jungkook was the stronger hitter of the two. Haru sat in the shade, choosing to be the referee and scorekeeper. 

The game started off light, a few points given to another over silly mistakes and miscommunications. Yoongi shys away from the ball most of the time, thinking you should take most balls because of your experience and that you were generally better at the game. If it wasn’t for you yanking his arm to make him snap out of whatever trance he was in, he’d probably end up letting a ball drop two feet in front of him. 

He was nervous after all, he wants to play well. 

It wasn’t until Hoseok started scuffing up some small trash-talk through the net, more like a taunt towards Yoongi, a tactic to see if Yoongi would step up his game. 

And it was working. 

Especially after Hoseok discusses openly how Yoongi only does well when he’s being bossed around. A small inside joke only the two of the men understood. But what had tilted Yoongi the most was once Jungkook pitched in, adding his own form of toxicity in the mix. Which they all knew would be one thing… using you as leverage to piss Yoongi off.

“Y/n and I had so much fun earlier today. We shared some snacks together, went in a few clothing stores where Y/n tried on a few nice pieces…” 

You roll your eyes, sighing as you look over to Yoongi who stares straight into Jungkook. “Here we go again,” you mutter to yourself.

The next play felt more intense, you even noticed Yoongi stepping closer towards you to pick up the ball more than normal. He wants the ball, he wants to do something with it. 

Yoongi continuously aimed his hits towards Hoseok, nothing too hard, but it was noticeable how he was favoring his spikes towards his roommate. That alone motivated Jungkook to tease Yoongi some more, “Can’t hit at me now? Are you scared or something?” 

The fun laughs and giggles turned into grunts and pants, both you and Yoongi work hard on your side of the court, and you love every second of the heated game that blazed along the summer heat. Jungkook manages to swing very hard, directing his spike right in front of you, but you had just enough time to stick your arm out and pass the ball up before it lands. 

Yoongi rushes over, a dive with his foot, kicking the ball up high enough for you to pass the ball deep into Jungkook’s corner. The youngest scurries himself quickly across the sand, almost colliding with Hoseok in the process. He saves the ball from landing, freeballing it back over to Yoongi’s area. 

“Go outside!” You yell towards Yoongi after he passes the ball high enough for you to square yourself up by the net. 

The pass, the set, the entire momentum of the play came out pristine and this was the golden opportunity for Yoongi to show off his skills. Jungkook sees the chance Yoongi is about to make and runs himself up to the net and readying himself to block Yoongi’s oncoming hit as Hoseok adjusts his positioning in the back court. 

Both men jump, Yoongi winding his arm back to fling it forward, snapping his wrist on top of the ball the moment his hand came in contact with it. He angles his swing, cutting the direction of the ball to the open area just inside the ten-foot line that remained uncovered. 

In the process of the hit, Jungkook leaps himself up, arms raised high in an attempt to block the spike. He does manage to block the direct path of the volleyball… but with his face instead. 

The volleyball smacks hard into Jungkook’s face, cutting straight down into his side of the net as Jungkook stumbles back to save the ball from completely falling, but fails as he lands on the ground. His nose quickly turns red from impact, scrunching his face as his hands cover the sore appendage. 

Both you and Hoseok sputter out words, asking Jungkook if he’s alright as he locks eyes with Yoongi. Yoongi stands stunned at the incident, eyes wide and mouth gaping as Jungkook smiles back at him after making sure his nose wasn’t bleeding. 

“Guess I deserve that, huh?” 

Yoongi shrugs, holding his hand out for Jungkook to help lift himself up, “Yeah, probably.” The two of them laugh it off, shaking the sand from their bodies. 

Before ending the game and walking back to the shade of the tent, Yoongi pulls you in for a hug, kissing your temple. “Told you he was gonna get it.”

“Yoongi!” you scold with a laugh, shaking your head in disapproval yet he knows you find it enjoyable. 

© All rights reserved under @kimtaehyunq​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This tumblr is the ONLY place my fics are posted.

[janekfan]

ooooh..... difficult anniversary and/or you’re not human anymore bingo prompts for jarchivist obliteration?

AAAA This took so long! I am SO SORRY!!! <3 <3 <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31123295

Jon was used to hurting.

Used to hiding.

Which is why he didn’t notice. Didn’t understand what was happening to him and more importantly why.

A panic attack here. A bad day there. A cold, maybe? Until the scars on his skin from the worms and the corkscrew and the scratching woke one day as though they were fresh and new. His skin crawled, the slightest touch filled him with revulsion and, lord, he had to keep it together because Martin would almost certainly overreact and Jon hated, hated to be the source of his worry.

So he would ignore it as usual.

Whatever it was would pass. And he could avoid being the center of attention for this thing that was out of their control. He’d read the Lord of the Rings. He knew about the less romantic side of anniversaries. What was one more thing for him to overcome?

It didn’t stop them from hurting like the day they were drawn on his body and while the rents in his skin looked the same as they ever did, he nearly bloodied himself after a particularly wretched nightmare with his frenzied clawing.

And it passed. The burning, bleeding, boring sensations disappeared and Martin hadn’t suspected a thing. Okay, that was a lie. But he seemed mollified enough when Jon wrote it off as a tough week at university.

“I’m just tired, habibi.” He forced himself to reach for Martin’s hands, sighing in gusty relief when everything was normal and allowing himself to get wrapped up in warm arms.

The mark left behind by the Distortion ached deep and throbbing and somehow also elsewhere. It was a phantom pain traveling the myriad corridors of his veins, his arteries, his nerves and when he couldn’t rid himself of it in any conventional way, he waited. It would pass. It would. Just like the last one. This was just pain. He knew pain. Was fast friends with it by now and this was nothing like his worst days.

“Jon-darling?”

“Mm?” He was flipping through the pages in a book, not too fast, not too slow, not really reading anything, trying to pretend that everything was normal when his foot cramped up like he’d been bitten. He was practiced now in not looking; there wouldn’t be anything there anyway. His skin might as well have been a great big door and the only way through to the other side didn’t involve knocking.

“You look pale.” Ah. Well. Pain like this would do that to a man.

“Just a little sore today, love.” It wasn’t a lie. Jon set the book aside, not bothering to mark whatever random page he’d landed on, and threaded their fingers together.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you talk me into carrying the shopping.”

“What are you talking about? I always help carry the shopping.” Despite his chronic conditions, Jon pulled his own weight.

No, stop. Of course you do and you have nothing to prove, especially not to Martin of all people.

“You’ve been run down.”

“I have not!” Martin fixed him with a stern look and he cowed under his scrutiny. “Perhaps a bit, but you know how these things go.”

“I do. And I can’t help but feel like there’s something you aren’t telling me.” Here it was. Martin’s overture, his olive branch. His invitation to come clean and tell the truth and avoid his wrath when he found out later. But Jon never was a quick learner of these social lessons.

“I’m fine, hayati.” Jon soothed, tipping Martin into his newly throbbing shoulder. “I’m fine.”

The next three hit him like a lorry, nearly as hard as they had a year ago and nearly all at once.

His burn scar, just like the worm scars, felt blistered as badly as the day he’d taken Jude’s hand, and he shook violently at the onset of it, thankful he was squirreled away in his office at the University and not crying into Martin’s shirt even if that’s where he’d prefer to be but Martin hates burns.

Hates how they look, how twisted and ugly they become when they scar.

Burns made him upset. Burns made him sick.

He hates them. Hates them. And while Jon was reasonably sure Martin would never turn him away when he was hurting like this, the fluttering undercurrent chanting what if wouldn’t leave him be.

So Instead he sniffled away in the dark, wrist pressed between his knees in a vain attempt to stop the shaking while he tried to remember how to breathe.

It was dark when he slipped into bed beside Martin, dead asleep after a run of night shifts. For a frantic moment Jon wanted to shake him awake, beg for reasurances, for relief, but it would ruin this. Martin looked so peaceful, face relaxed in repose, cheek soft when Jon pressed his trembling lips there.

“Jon... ?” Washing out on a swirling tide his voice was fuzzy, thick with exhaustion, and the hand that brushed the small of his back lingered only for the time it took for him to drift back under. No. He’d wrought enough damage here. Better for Martin to rest without worry. He shouldn’t have to deal with Jon and his problems. Especially when they would be arriving like clockwork for the rest of his life. Jon pressed himself against Martin’s warmth, trying to soak it up, stop the shivering. How could he be so frozen when his whole right arm was engulfed in flame? Silent, he let the tears come, closing his eyes against a burgeoning dizziness he knew would only grow worse.

Be quiet. Just be quiet. Don’t disturb him, you mustn’t. You’ve nothing else to give except more burdens that aren’t his to carry.

The ceiling was spinning so fast above him; lights, cast shadows, cabinets whirling, reeling, spiraling so much he’d be sick with it any minute. The vibrations from Martin’s pounding footsteps resonated through the whole of him, pulsing, in time with his uneven battering pulse.

He barely remembered the actual fall, just the terrifying sensation of being weightless and the fear welling in his throat like coagulated ink. Forever. He’d be falling forever. Nothing to hold. To grab. To slow. To Know.

Endless.

His scream wrenched away from him in the rushing winds filling up his ears, stealing his voice, his breath. No one could hear him in this place. Martin would never know what happened. That Jon was eaten up by the sky. Surrounded infinitely on all sides by a sea of simultaneous nonexistence and brutal presence. Jon’s awareness whittled down only to the pull of gravity in all the wrong directions.

“Jon!” A bleary shape manifested above him, blocking out the worst of it. Hands, gentle, probing, searching subconsciously for breaks, contusions, his training winning out over the panic Jon could just make out in the set of his mouth. Fingers ran soft through his curls, seeking out any swellings and Jon winced when he found one. Must’ve struck his head on the way down. Those cool hands settled, cupping his face, and twin thumbs brushed over his cheeks. “You’re warm, love.” A murmur, almost to himself as Martin puzzled.

“B’bit of, of vertigo, s’all.” Uncoordinated, Jon’s arm struck out as he tried to reach for him and landed on his wrist. “Tryin’...nnh.” He gripped Martin like a lifeline, slamming his eyes shut against the need to be ill.

“You’ve clocked yourself.” Fair enough. “But I think you’re alright. Think you can move?” With no other option than to speak lest he set it all swirling again, Jon whimpered. “Okay.” With one more pass through his hair Martin stepped away and soon enough had Jon settled as best he could on the tile, tucked beneath a blanket with a cold pack pressed to the back of his neck. Relief came gradually and Martin’s unasked questions lingered on the edges of their companionable silence. “Better?”

“Mm.” Despite the hard surface applied to every pressure point, Jon was falling asleep cocooned in the safety of Martin’s soothing company.

He wouldn’t be able to keep this up

Martin teased him mercilessly about the loss of his voice and Jon let him have it if it kept him from noticing how sore his throat really was. He wanted to tell him that it was Daisy’s mark, to cry and come clean and beg Martin to stay.

But that wouldn’t be fair. Jon had to be a whole person in this relationship and stop relying on Martin to pick up the slack. He would figure this out. He’d prove his past didn’t control him.

After he could get out of bed.

And here was what he’d strived to avoid. Finally laid low.

“I worry, Jon. You know that.” That was the problem. Martin was already going to be late to work from all his fussing. With the scrap of voice he’d gained back he protested in a hoarse whisper, syllables squeaking past what felt like a shredded voice box and listened to Martin call in again. He had to be better than this but he was overwrought, dangling at the end of a very frayed rope. This marked a sharp decline and Jon was sure it hadn’t escaped Martin’s notice that they were coming up on the date he’d more or less died. He could barely rouse himself in the mornings for school, drifting through lessons and relying more on his TA than he’d like. More than once he’d splurged on a cab, not sure if he’d make it on the tube and Martin’s fretting and worry and distress only made Jon more secure in his conviction. If it was this bad already, how bad would it become if he knew the reason it was all happening? They were supposed to be free of this. Jon wasn’t supposed to keep doing this to Martin.

Melanie’s scar throbbed, chipping away at any scant reserve he had left and ruthless with its aim. It was worse than Daisy’s even though he could understand both motivations. Daisy was putting down a monster. Mel was striking out at someone trying to help, driving home with the scalpel that no good deed goes unpunished. Rationally, he knew he’d deserved it. Too bad it didn’t dull the sting of it all really.

“Darling? Sweetheart?” Jon forced his eyes open, gasping when it sent the dark room to pirouetting, his stomach to churning, staging a mutiny against the scant meal he’d forced on himself not too long ago. Anything he’d gained in their short reprieve had long melted away under the stress. “I’m here, what’s wrong, love?”

“Nnothing…” he regretted the word as soon as it passed his lips.

“You’ve a fever so high it woke me. That’s not nothing, Jon.” Mercifully, he gave him a moment to gather his thoughts, catalogue how much more of this he could take before it broke him. Burned hand shaking, Jon clenched his fist which didn’t help the pain rocketing through his arm and into his heart, but steadied him.

“Jus’a, a bit of a flare up.” Those sometimes came with fevers.

“Oh, love. Why didn’t you say?”

Because it was a lie. Because I didn’t want you to worry. Because I never want to see you upset over me. Because I’m not worth it. Because if it’s always going to be like this--

“Din’t want you to, to…” The cramping agony slurred his voice badly, stringing syllables together with an uncooperative tongue was too much effort. “Nngh.” Dazed and groggy, Jon shut his eyes tightly, trying to focus on Martin’s soothing touch stroking over his face. Like a coward, Jon let sleep rescue him from the truth.

It was the flesh that gave him away.

Woke him screaming; hot and twisting in agony with Jared’s phantom fingers dug into his rib cage. More fingers clamped onto his shoulders, shaking him, a distorted voice calling, shouting his name over and over and over.

“Jon!” Martin was little more than a blur, obscured by tears, and Jon’s panic was reflected straight back at him. “Where does it hurt?”

“Wha…?”

“Where, habibi? Left, right? Please, Jon.”

“Not...not. S’not--” He couldn’t get the words to come, to admit after so long what he’d kept poorly hidden.

“Not what?” Frustration bled sideways into his words and Martin gripped him harder as though he might tear the answers out of him.

“Real.” It burst from him in a raw, somehow soft explosion. It wasn’t. Not really. The wounds were long healed over.

“Looks plenty real from here, Jon.” He batted away questing fingers.

“No. No.” There was no way he’d be able to explain through this piercing agony, the literal holes invisible in his skin.

“It’s the fears, isn’t it? Your marks, your scars.” Martin already knew judging by the disquiet in his tone. This was merely confirmation.

“Yes.” He sobbed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There was hurt in his voice, sadness and betrayal, alongside the ire.

“I thought, I thought--” Jon couldn’t breathe, panic and pain stealing the very air from his lungs. This was only going to get worse. After all they’d done, he’d done--how was he still a monster?

“Shh, shhh, thought what, love?” Martin held him carefully, mindful of all the ways Jon hurt, ticking off fears and scars on mental fingers, trying to figure out how long he’d been hiding it. How long he’d been suffering alone.

“Supposed to be, god, supposed to be safe, free of this.” He was trembling now, with chills or anxiety or both, gasping for every sip of oxygen and swallowing seawater for his trouble. “Can’t, what if--?” Choking himself off, Jon strangled. Martin stayed silent, rocking them both gently, back, forth, soft, slow, calm, calm, calm, and when Jon finally spoke again had to strain to hear him over the echo of a hammering heart beat. “Every year?”

Every year.

He couldn’t Breathe.

Everything was close. So close, too close, and he was crushed under the implications.

“Jon?” Now he was heaving for it, fast and deep, and while Martin could feel the strain it was to breathe he knew it wouldn’t be long before Jon lost consciousness altogether. “Hey, hey, listen, hayati, slow down, sloow down.” Jon’s entire body lifted when Martin inhaled, and again, and again, until he picked up the thread and made more than a half decent attempt. “Okay, there you are, you’re doing so well, sweetheart. So well.” Time passed in measured breaths, so much so that Martin had begun to think Jon had fallen asleep when:

“You’ll leave.”

Soft and shattered. All the fear that he’d piled onto the pain flowing out of him, a dam burst and broken.

“I won’t.” Jon’s movements were hard-won but he managed to shift himself enough to face him. His expression was firm.

“You, you can’t be stuck taking care of an i’invalid again, Martin. I won’t. I won’t have it.”

“Ah. You won’t have it.” Martin scoffed. “And what about me? When do I get a choice?” Jon, eyes wide and dark with exhaustion and pain, looked at him as though he’d grown a second head, perhaps a third.

Or like Martin was a predator and Jon was prey, cornered and hurting.

“You shouldn’t want this.” Me. “This, this burden. This trap!”

“You’re not some sort of trap!” Martin could see the moment Jon decided to change tactics, to try and convince him otherwise, win the game. Too bad for Jon that Martin knew him better than he knew himself.

“You want this don’t you?” He sneered, so convinced, and while once upon a time it would have made Martin wilt and retreat, now he was familiar with Jon’s lashing out. Sorry, Jon. “I won’t be another reason for you to martyr yourself.”

“And I won’t be scared off by your nasty attitude.” Softening, he reached for Jon’s trembling hands, running his thumbs methodically over the backs of them. “I won’t. Together. Right?”

“Martin.” His name broke open on a sob. “I don’t. I don’t want this for you.”

“Tough.” Smothered, Jon’s next words died in his throat, a fledgling bird crushed before it could take flight. “You don’t get to choose for me, even to protect me.”

“Every year--”

“We don’t know that. Not yet.” Martin eased him down. “You aren’t a burden. You aren’t trapping me here.” He kissed away the tears, the hopelessness, even as Jon shook his head nigh delirious.

“I am, I am.”

“No, love. What you are is worn out and hurting.” Martin teased out Jon’s tangled curls, stroking his fingers through them and watching him relax as much as he could at the moment. “What you’re going to do is let me take care of things. Of you, Jon.”

“Don’deserve you.” Fresh tears welled in half lidded brown eyes, slipped into the fly aways at his temples when they closed. “Never have.” Martin stood, pressing lips to his hot brow, intending to gather up anything he thought might help.

“We’ll talk when you’re feeling better.” Jon nodded and Martin turned to leave, stopping when he found himself caught by quaking fingers tangled in his sleeve.

“I, I love you.” Contrite, whispered and awaiting rejection. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, darling.” Martin leaned down, thumbing away new tears. “I know, I know and I love you too.” He stole one more shivering kiss. “Let’s get you taken care of.”

[star-consultant]

Bright are the stars

You need a Beatle song that perfectly encapsulates your sign? Of course you do. (Spotify playlist) 

Aries—“I Saw Her Standing There” 

One two three FOUR! An eager and intense song for an eager and intense sign. Aries falls hard and fast, with a tendency to rash vows that everyone doubts they mean—but Aries doesn’t doubt. Paul (who later styled himself as a "ram” at a key point in his creative development) makes good on the Cardinal Fire vibe with his exuberant vocals, and John of the Aries rising contributed the street-smart innuendo that utterly makes the song: And you know what I mean. Fittingly, this song kicked off the group’s first album, which itself has plenty of Aries “HELLO I AM HERE TO MAKE A MARK ON YOUR WORLD! (like me plz ok? this is my heart and i am Doing My Best??)” energy. 

Taurus—“All I’ve Got to Do"

A song that takes its sweet time but burrows deeper than the average ear-worm into your consciousness. It’s a patient song that is unassuming but knows exactly what the hell it’s doing. The intensity builds bit by bit, so that you’re unaware when the power of the bridge comes crashing down. Describes the Taurean romantic ideal: lazy, loyal, cozy, constant, tender, and ever-so-true. Also, “All I’ve Got to Do” is featured on the second album, With the Beatles, which has plenty of other Bullish touches, noticeable even with a casual glance at the tracklist: “Don’t Bother Me,” “Not a Second Time,” and “Money (That’s What I Want).” 

Gemini—“She Loves You”

Paul is a Gemini Sun, and throughout his catalogue it shows. But perhaps he never topped the Twinniness of this energetic, optimistic, breathless, gossipy classic. It was composed “eye-to-eye” with John, a truly dual-authored song, and one the rare Beatles numbers where the two lead vocalists double up on every single line, in true (Nerk) Twin fashion. Also the first but definitely not the last of their many “third-person narratives,” Paul’s novelistic instead of confessional slant being distinctly a Gemini thing. The speaker in this one couldn’t be more enthusiastic about this relationship if it were already repaired, and he couldn’t be more enthusiastic about it if it were his. Love is great! People reconciling is great! You should be glad, dumbass! But the real corker? What makes this so Gemini that it hurts? Yoko has confirmed that in the early 70s, during her separation with John, she actually had Paul play agony aunt. Then, during that meetup in L.A. where they were last photographed together, Paul urged John to “apologize to her” and get back together... which he did. That’s right. "She Loves You” is not merely a Gemini’s song: it’s a Gemini’s life. 

Cancer—“Octopus’s Garden”

Ringo the Crab’s musically-complex fantasy about an underwater sanctuary where children are “happy and safe,” he and his lover can be together, and there’s “no one there to tell us what to do.” George (a triple Water sign himself, probably not-so-incidentally) always insisted that his best mate’s song Had Depths, and he himself supplied a lot of them: check out his lead guitar lines. They function as emotional counterpoint. When Ringo’s vocal line is especially wistful, the guitar is bright; when Ringo ends on a confident note, the guitar is quirky, ironic, even stiff-upper-lip pessimistic. Result: a shifting kaleidoscope of FEELS. The Moon approves. 

Leo—“Good Day Sunshine” 

Paul perfectly expresses his own Leo moon with a sublime, vibrant ode to laughter, love, and pride on a cloudless summer day. The bit in the lyrics about she knows she’s looking fine and I’m so proud to know that she is mine? That’s not marring the high tone of the song: that is part of the tone. Hear us roar! And by “roar” I mean "laugh and canoodle, coz Leo is about living the good life, bitches.” 

Virgo—“Please Please Me” 

What’s fair is forkin’ fair, mate! A exemplary blend of Virgo’s Mutable passive-aggressive sensitivity with its Elemental directness... half-critical, half-begging... plus the very sign-typical humblebragging. About their sexual prowess. Damn, Virgo. People forget how Earthy you really are sometimes. But here we are. In very Virgo fashion, instead of ditching the girl he’s decided to harangue her. On a more meta note, the Beatles were still studio virgins when they first began crafting this song, and it took several passes and incorporation of George Martin’s feedback before it became the bursting pop hit as we know it now. There’s that Virgo work ethic paying off.

Libra—“Strawberry Fields Forever”

The imagery of the title suggests an eternal harvest. But the star sign resemblance goes deeper than that: Always, no, sometimes think it’s me, but, you know, I know when it’s a dream. I think, er, no, I mean, er, yes, but it’s all wrong... that is, I think I disagree. Did you just hear your Libra roommate rambling after a joint, or did you listen to verse three of “Strawberry Fields”? Same difference. The song is absolutely lovely, as anything associated with the child of Venus should be, and innovative, as befits a Cardinal sign. Most of all, even in all of Libra Sun John’s weighing and weed-wandering, he knows one thing: he’s got to take someone else along with him. A companion, stat! 

Scorpio—“While My Guitar Gently Weeps”

George of the Scorpio moon and Scorpio ascendant had to really lean into this side of his nature to even get this damn track properly recorded. He resorted to the social power play of inviting Eric frickin’ Clapton into the tense post-India studio just to get Lennon, McCartney, and Martin to give his song proper Beatle recording magic. Which it deserved. The dark drama of the hard-won arrangement is the perfect Scorpio accompaniment to the moody, reflective lyrics about “all the love there that’s sleeping” in this weary world. There’s tender, horrified pity here for those who are stifled into inauthenticity: I don’t know how nobody told you how to unfold your love. I don’t know how someone controlled you; they bought and sold you... Bonus points for the Watery ‘just can’t even’-ness of not being able to so much as pick up a damn broom. 

Sagittarius—“Something” 

You’re asking me, will my love grow? I don’t know, I don’t know! A deeply instinctual lover knows that Cupid has done hit a bullseye. He remains emphatically ambivalent about the future, but he knows what he feels in this moment, and in that moment is romance and wonder that is as deep as the earth is from the heavens. Sags are intense, but of all the Fire signs they are most far-seeing and detached (due to their Mutable quality, which makes them see the world a bit more like an Air sign does). “Something” keeps trying to capture that je-ne-sais-quoi, and despite the speaker’s happiness he can’t help but circle back again and again to take another shot at that the mental target. A philosopher even when in love. Ultimately, however, he doesn’t want to leave her now... which for a restless Sag is already saying a ton.

Capricorn—“Revolution”

John let his unfashionable midheaven Capricorn off the leash with this blunt, pointed savaging of radical and violent revolutions. (Given the tanks on Tiananmen Square and the millions dead on the killing fields of Cambodia, I can’t say that his cautionary note about “destruction” and “minds that hate” was unnecessary.) Few things are more Capricorn than ‘Oh, you want my money? Yeah, first show me that you’ve done your fucking homework, mate.’ Bonus Earth points for the fact that he somehow worked sex—a lot of sex—into this political track. 

Aquarius—“Come Together”

John of the Aquarius moon’s decidedly loony attempt to write a political campaign song in order to stop Reagan. (The result was too weird for Timothy Leary, whose reaction was pretty much ‘wtf? I don’t think even I have enough residual acid in my system for this one... ’) John invokes the ideal of collaboration, but his call to solidarity is built around fantastical lyrics that no one can comprehend: He wear no shoeshine, he got/Toejam football, he got/Monkey finger, he shoot/Coca-Cola, he say/I know you, you know me... Oh, right. The lyrics contain exactly one discernible message: One thing I can tell you is you got to be free. How Aqua. Also in true collaborative Water-Bearer fashion, the arrangement really makes the song (special mention to the tight, tight work of the rhythm section). Bizarre genius that attracts a true team effort—it doesn’t get much more Aquarius than that.

Pisces— “I Want to Tell You”

The wall of sound builds up thickly enough that soon the words seem to be traveling through the sea to reach you: I want to tell you my head is filled with things to say... But when you’re here, all those words, they seem to slip away. A gorgeously, emotionally tongue-tied song... about being tongue-tied. Written by George, a Pisces Sun, this absolute mystery of a lyric is all emotion and no logic. If he seems to act unkind, it’s only him, it’s not his mind. Okay, Fishboy. Good thing the track is compellingly lovely and utterly relatable. Which suits the Pisces life exactly: ‘I don’t know what I mean, but it’s exceedingly beautiful and I want you to share it with you very, very much.’