#but any combination of their names would sound stupid anyway so

[crescentpaws]

was told to post this here so. yeah.

where my fintan x bronte enjoyers at yoooooo (i’m delusional)

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

That's What Friends Are For- E.M.

I've been really thirsty for Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie so I poured myself this taaaallll drink of water. Hope you love it xx

You've never had an orgasm, and Eddie would be happy to help remedy that.

Part 2

Masterlist

TW- 18+ MINORS DNI!! Cursing, mentions of smoking, heavy petting, pet names (angel, sweetheart), a lil crying (but in a good way), fingering (lmk if I missed any)

Pairings- Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie

Word Count- 4,802

(Gifs not mine, credit to owner!)

It wasn’t something that you’d normally ask, but with the haze of weed clouding your senses and the exaggerated moans of the poor actress being exploited for the dumb action movie you and Eddie were watching out of sheer boredom, you couldn’t help yourself. You turn to Eddie, the cogs in your head turning in overtime as the words reach your mouth before you can even put too much stock in them, “What does an orgasm even feel like?” Your eyes narrow as you imagine it, the sounds of the woman on screen echoing in your mind. There’s no way that real people sound like that, no, this is just some stupid movie that you and Eddie had never even heard of before digging it out of the pile of tapes beneath the TV. “I mean, I guess it’s gotta feel good, but does it feel that good?”  

While you ponder the probability of the sounds onscreen being at all accurate for real-world scenarios, Eddie’s face pales, the light high he’d been enjoying completely knocked out of his body at your words. Despite being best friends for the past several years, you never really talked about your sex lives with each other. For you, it was because it didn’t exist. For Eddie, it was because the only person he really wanted anymore was you. Every other person in town combined couldn’t interest him half as much as you, and he had definitely looked. Pining after your best friend for years wasn’t really something Eddie was interested in doing, not that it helped. Of course, the only reason you hadn’t made a move—aside from the fact that you were thoroughly terrified at the thought of being rejected—was because you thought that Eddie was something of a ladies’ man. You knew he was much more experienced than you, not that that was a difficult feat, but you knew that he at least went on dates. And you never wanted your attraction to him get in the way of your friendship anyway. If he liked you, he would’ve made a move sooner, right?  

Wrong. 

Eddie had fallen head over heels for you about a year after you had met, both of you juniors in high school. You went away with your family on vacation for a couple weeks that summer and came back... different. You were more confident, and even though it had only been a short separation, you looked different, more womanly than gangly teenager. He liked you before, but some switch inside his chest flicked, like the lights were finally turning on in some long-forgotten roller coaster ride. He’s had it bad for you ever since, suffering in silence because he knows how shy you used to be, and still are to some extent. He would never, ever want to do or say anything to make you uncomfortable, including putting his feelings on the line in exchange for your amazing friendship.  

Still, the news that you didn’t know what an orgasm felt like was surprising. He knew you were private about your dating life, and he always respected that. But you had had boyfriends before. And you were both in your early 20s now. Surely you had been with one of them. Or even figured it out on your own... 

“What?” is the brilliant response that flies from Eddie’s lips as his brain short circuits. You look back at his face, having wandered away, lost in thought. Eddie half expects you to backtrack, but still, to his surprise, you double down. 

“What does an orgasm feel like?” He can tell your Mary Jane consumption must be fueling this line of questioning, but if you’re really curious... 

“Um, well...” Eddie flounders, trying to find the words to say. You keep your focus on him, your thoughts trailing only slightly as you wait for him to respond. “It... It does feel really good. I don’t know exactly what it feels like for women, but for guys, at least, for me, it’s like my whole body kind of explodes, but in, like, the best way,”  

You mull this over for a moment, your eyes darting between Eddie’s face and the screen, which has since moved past the over-exaggerated sex scene back into shootouts between the good guy and the bad ones. “Okay, well, have any of the girls you’ve been with ever sounded like that?” You were genuinely curious, trying to imagine what could feel that good and coming up blank. 

Eddie chuckles a bit, eyes flicking up in a memory, “Well, one, but I’m pretty sure she was faking. Some women think they have to sound like that because that’s what the movies show them they’re supposed to sound like. But really, there are all different kinds of... sounds... that people make when they’re feeling that good,” he explains, his surprise relaxing now into amusement just slightly. 

“Oh,” You look back at the screen, apparently done with your questions. Eddie feels his heartbeat fading back into its normal rhythm after the near heart-attack you had inflicted upon him, and things go quiet for a minute before you turn your head back toward him, mouth poised open to speak. “Do you think—Never mind,” You quickly shove the thought back down your throat, remembering that Eddie’s not supposed to know you’ve been in love with him forever.  

The possibilities of what you were about to ask him makes his heart race again, until he’s burning to know. “What is it?” He asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. 

Your lips press together and shake your head as a heat spreads over your face, giving you a moment of clarity amid the warmth of the high. “No, it’s okay, it was a dumb question,” You wave your hand in dismissal, and pray that Eddie doesn’t press it further in fear of your mouth working faster than your logic. Of course, you have no such luck. 

“There are no dumb questions. If you want to know something, all you have to do is ask. Would I ever judge you for anything? And really think about that, because I’ve seen you pick a pickle up off the floor and eat it,” He laughs, trying to diffuse the tension. It helps a little, and with his reassurance and that fleeting moment of clarity far away, you open your mouth again, hesitating as you find the right words. 

“Do you think... that you could maybe... show me?”  

Eddie’s eyes bulge from his skull, and he’s afraid that his heart has totally stopped for a minute. But after an agonizing moment, a thick thump of his heart breathes life back into him, and he can only pray that you can’t hear it as it loudly thump, thump, thumps in his chest.  

“Show you..?” It’s a begging question. He’s not exactly sure which part you want to learn, and he wants to make sure he doesn’t assume anything. 

You turn away again, the mortification laying over you in a thick blanket. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have... You can forget it,” 

Eddie doesn’t want to mess this up, and the visions of you making such pretty little sounds for him, or better yet, unraveling under his touch, automatically send all of the spare blood in his body downward, so quickly that he almost becomes dizzy. He has to make an effort to shift his body to hide his growing erection as he tries to reassure you. “No, no! Don’t worry, I’m listening. It’s okay, I swear! What do you want me to show you? I... I can do my best,” His voice is sincere, sincere enough to make you look sheepishly back at him, your lashes low as you try not to look in his eyes. 

You take a deep breath, your head buzzing with adrenaline as you form the words. “Would you show me how to have an orgasm?”  

Eddie swallows hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat. He’s trying so hard to make this seem as chill as possible, for both of your sakes. If he gets too eager too quickly, there’s no way he wouldn’t just bust in his pajama pants, and he might scare you. His mouth is dry as he nods quickly, “Um, yeah. I- I can definitely try,” He watches as your face grows redder by the second, but you give a small smile, one that makes Eddie lightheaded again as another shockwave of want shoots through his half-hard cock. “Do you want to go to my room?” He asks softly, gauging the look on your face as you still avoid his eyes.  

“Yeah,” You murmur, but your legs won’t move. There’s a want in you, despite not knowing how to indulge it, and as Eddie gets up from the couch, offering a hand to you, you take it and squeeze, finally looking up at him. Eddie feels like he might faint in that moment, your hazy eyes doe-like and innocent, not making it any easier for him to keep calm. He pulls you up to your feet and you follow him, your hand in his, to his room.  

You shut the door behind you, flicking the lock on the knob despite being the only ones home, and turn to face Eddie, who stands just behind you, still not believing what might happen. “S-so, um...” He begins, feet shuffling beneath him. “For girls, it’s a lot harder to... finish. It takes a lot of warming up first,” Your brow furrows. 

“Warming up?” A blush breaks out over Eddie’s cheeks, and he reaches out to let his fingers trace up your arm, ghosting over your shoulder and up your neck. A breath hitches in your throat as his palm cups your face, and suddenly, you think you might know what he means. Nevertheless, he explains. 

“It’s a lot easier when you’re feeling good from other things first. Like touching, kissing... things like that. It can be painful if you don’t do it right,” Your lashes flutter as he leans in slightly, and you can feel his warm breath fan over your face. 

“Oh,” Eddie lets out a breath of a laugh at your breathless response, and already you feel yourself turning to putty in his hands.  

“I want you to tell me if you don’t like something, okay? Don’t try to spare my feelings. If you want me to stop doing something, or you want me to do something specific, you tell me. Okay?” The demanding edge in his whispers snaps you back to reality, and you feel a warmth building deep within you. It’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Sure, shadows of this have been felt watching risqué movies with sex scenes or kissing your prior boyfriends awkwardly in the backs of their cars, but that pales in comparison. This is a new, deep burn in the very depths of your body. 

“Mhmm,” You try to lean closer to him, to feel more, but his other hand goes to your waist, holding you in place. Your eyes meet his, and they’re unexpectedly hard, his brown eyes serious as he looks at you. 

“I need you to say it. I need to know you can say it,” Your breath stutters again at his words, but still, you find your voice. 

“I- I don’t like that,” You whisper, and it’s all you can do. Eddie nods in approval, but his eyes want you to continue, “I want you... I want you to kiss me,” You can hear the hammer of your heart in your ears, your blood singing as the anticipation grows. Eddie’s eyes return to their normal softness, gazing into yours like he’s seeing the sun set over the ocean for the first time.  

“Are you sure?” Eddie whispers as he inches toward you, his face leaning down ever closer. This might be the closest you’ve ever been to him, and the thought sends a delicious shiver up your spine. His nose just brushes yours, and your eyes flutter shut. 

“I want you to kiss me, Eddie,” It’s barely a breath, but he hears you, and gently, gently, his lips meet yours, barely a brush of skin against skin. You hear him suck in a deep breath before letting his lips move against yours a little more firmly, the hand on your waist snaking around your back to pull you closer to him. You let your hands find the back of his hair, which is up in a cute, messy bun, and your fingers wind themselves around a few loose, curly tendrils there. Then, Eddie’s lips move across your cheek, down toward your jaw, and the first sound comes loose from your lips. 

It’s a tiny noise, but it might as well have been Eddie’s favorite song, the way he revels in it. He can feel the pounding of your heart in your chest as you press yourself against him, not really knowing what to do other than let Eddie work his way down your neck with his lips. “E-Eddie...” You whimper, hands gently grasping at the fabric at the back of his worn t-shirt.  

Eddie stops then, immediately, waiting for your instruction. He had gone too far, hadn’t he? He had done something to make you uncomfortable and now you’d never ever talk to him again... “Can we lay down?” You ask, breathy and quiet in his ear. He presses a firm kiss to the top of your shoulder in relief, elated that you were enjoying what was happening before pulling away. 

“Yeah, let’s get you comfy,” He smiles one of those easy, lopsided smiles that takes your breath away, and you feel the butterflies that usually reside in your stomach move downward to your core. You instinctively clench your thighs together to try to squash the foreign feeling, but as Eddie moves to lay down, you see the bulge in his loose pants, and it sends a new swarm flooding your body. With a deep breath, you join Eddie and lay next to him, his face only inches from yours. His hand reaches toward your face, gently brushing a few stray hairs behind your ear. “Do you want to just keep kissing, or are you ready to try something else?” He asks. You think it over, biting the inside of your lip as you bite back the embarrassment of being so inexperienced next to him.  

“Can we try something new and still do some kissing?” You smile sheepishly, not being able to hold his gaze as your face heats. He lets out a small laugh, not at you, but because you’re so nervous. 

“Yeah, we can do that. Is it okay if I touch you? I can just try a few things and you can figure out what you like,” He suggests, his eyes roaming over you. You’re not wearing a bra, because you never did when you and Eddie were just lounging around watching movies and smoking, something Eddie had to get used to quick when your body started really developing. Once or twice when he was a few years younger, he had to fake an upset stomach just to relieve his aching cock in the bathroom upon seeing your pert nipples through the fabric of one of his old t-shirts. 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” With your permission, Eddie’s fingers gently reach the hem of your shirt, slipping under and running his calloused fingertips over the smooth skin of your side. You let out a gasp, your eyes screwing shut, and he notices the way your hips move of their own accord, trying to scratch an itch you’ve never felt before. He has to bite back a moan of his own just at the sight of you, so beautiful, so willing beneath his capable hands. He lets out a shaky breath as his hand moves up your side, leaning in to kiss you like he said he would, like he was aching to do again, and you accept his lips greedily, your hands pressing into the sides of his face as he glides across your skin, not light enough to tickle, but enough to send tingles over your skin, goosebumps forming in the wake of his caress. 

When his hand comes to cup your breast, not daring to flick over the sensitive nub just yet, you let out your second noise as he gives a little squeeze there. This one is muffled by his lips, pressed firmly to yours, and the vibration of it shoots straight down to his cock, which twitches willfully in his pants, wanting you more and more every second that passes. 

With a light touch, Eddie lets his thumb just brush your nipple, and it sends an electric shock through you, leading to your third noise, a much sharper sound that almost sounds painful. But when your lips press into his even harder, Eddie is only spurred on and he does it again, then lets his full hand grope over the full mound, rubbing across your breast with his palm. Eddie lets his tongue trace over your bottom lip then, and you open your mouth to him, not really knowing how to kiss with tongue, but unwilling to stop to make a comment about it as your body ignites to a new level of fire and electricity.  

Your legs are continuously rubbing together now, the friction glorious but not enough, and you want to feel more. You’re panting in between the long stretches of kissing, and while you don’t want to stop, you also need to tell Eddie what you want. So, instead of rushing back to his kiss, you press your thumb gently to his bottom lip, pupils blown with need. “Can you take my shorts off?” You ask, your confidence building. Eddie nods all too eagerly, and he gets up onto his knees to shift town toward your bottom half. You roll onto your back and lift your butt to make it a bit easier for him, his hands finding purchase at your hips, fingers dipping just below the waistband when he stops. 

“Do you want me to take your underwear off too?” He asks, wanting to be sure. You bite your lip again as the embarrassment floods back. 

“I’m not wearing any...” You admit, giving a small smile. His hands grip at your hips a bit harder then, and his sharp breath only helps your growing need. This is the most beautiful you’ve ever seen him, towering over you like this. You can see the long outline of his length through his pants now, and you let your mind wonder what could happen if this goes even further than you originally intended. It’s enough to make your hips roll in Eddie’s hands as he starts pulling down your sleep shorts. You close your eyes, trying to keep your embarrassment from making you chicken out when you’re finally about to get what you’ve always wanted. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, and your eyes shoot open as you stare at him, mortification building in your chest. 

“What? Is it bad? Do I look weird?” You ask in a flurry. Your hands go to cover your face, thighs clenching together to spare yourself when Eddie pries your legs apart again. 

“What? God no! You look... You look fucking amazing,” There’s a wonder in his voice, and you peek through your fingers to find him staring down at you, the look on his face amorous, hungry almost, like you’re his favorite meal in the world. It takes you aback, but nevertheless, there’s a twitch in your hips again, seeking a friction that you can no longer achieve for the time being. Eddie gently lowers himself on top of you, and you let out a moan when you feel the fabric of his pants brushing over your bare pussy. You let your hands fall as you try to push yourself into him, but there’s a hand holding onto your hip now to keep you down. “Oh my god, please, can you try not to do that right now? I am already in serious danger here, angel. If I feel even a little bit of you against my dick I’m fucking done for,” Eddie breathes a laugh to cover the moan in his voice, his face hovering over yours. 

“B-but I want—” Eddie cuts you off with a deep kiss, his hand squeezing into your hip as you desperately try to feel him against you again. 

“Not tonight, sweetheart. I want this one to be about you, okay? If you still want to in the morning, we can circle back,” Eddie offers, and you give a small nod. “Okay, then. I’m gonna touch you now, okay? I’ll go nice and slow. If you want me to change what I’m doing, just tell me,” You nod again and the hand gripping your hip travels down and his lips meet the hollow of your neck, giving just a tiny nip at the skin that sends your hips up again in need. Eddie tries to hold it in, but he can’t help but moan softly against your skin as he continues his journey.  

His fingers ghost just over the sensitive bud of nerves then, and the shock that goes through your body is even more intense than before when he was playing with your nipple. Your arms fling around his back and you grip the fabric of his t-shirt like a lifeline. “I’m gonna take good care of you,” Eddie whispers as he travels up your neck, “I’m gonna make you feel so good,”  

The promise is punctuated by a soft circle around your clit, and your whimper is so pathetic it startles you as it tumbles from your lips. You can feel how wet you are now; how hot your core is against his fingertips. It’s so blissful, so wanton that you feel your walls clenching around nothing, another new feeling that sends your head reeling. Eddie continues his gentle pattern around your bud, sucking sweet bruises into the skin below your ear between whispers of sweet nothing that spur you forward on your quest into the unknown world of this beautiful feeling. 

“E-Eddie,” You plead, head thrown back in pleasure. Your fingers pull his shirt so that your hands connect with his skin, “Can you go—Can you go a little f-faster, please?” Eddie nods into the crook of your neck as he complies, fingers moving just a bit faster, a bit firmer against you, and your chest starts heaving in pants again, moans spilling from your mouth more freely now. You grind into his hand pathetically as the intense pleasure grows. You feel like you could cry at the feeling, so blissful and beautiful and everything you’ve ever dreamed of as Eddie works you further and further, his lips only ever leaving your skin to whisper sweet nothings to you. 

“You’re doing so good... I can’t believe I get to do this for you... Been wanting you like this for so long...” Eddie nips and sucks and licks across your neck, up your face, across your lips, and you’re just so consumed by him that you feel hot little pinpricks in the corners of your eyes, your throat going thick as the tears begin. 

When Eddie catches sight of the first one, he slows his work on your core, afraid that you had changed your mind. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” You feel a pang of panic then, not really knowing why but knowing that you were desperate to reach the edge you were approaching. You pull at his shirt, not being able to verbalize your excruciating need for a second. 

“No, no!” You plead, “Don’t stop, please... I just... Please don’t stop...” You don’t know why you’re crying. Maybe because it feels so good, maybe because the emotions are just so new that your body is startled by them. Either way, Eddie is reluctant but believes you, because he trusts you and you trust him so completely that you don’t think that there’s any way that either of you would or even could hurt each other. 

Eddie picks up the pace again, his lips focusing on yours now to help keep you from crying. Your fingernails scratch up his back as you whine and writhe beneath him, coming closer and closer to something. There’s a tenseness in your stomach now, and it’s building. There must be a precipice close, a pinnacle to all of this pleasure and need Eddie has been giving you. Your panting breaths become more ragged, and Eddie gets the feeling that you’re close. 

“That’s it, angel. You gonna cum for me?” He practically moans against your mouth, and it’s another agonizing minute of this pressure inside you building before you feel it.  

Your hands clench Eddie’s shirt as you unravel. Your tears are flowing freely down your face, mouth open in a loud moan that reverberates on the walls of Eddie’s small room. Eddie keeps drawing circles over your clit as you ride through the waves of your first ever orgasm, kissing down to the top of your chest and back up to add to the pleasure. Finally, you feel it start to subside, the wide waves lessening into ripples as your breath starts to even out again. Eddie slows down again, and finally stops after a few more seconds, wanting to draw out your bliss as much as he can. He kisses you deeply, the hand on your pussy traveling up to grip your side, sliding up past the hem of your shirt as he holds you firm. You can feel the slick on his fingers cooling down on your skin, and it sends a new wave of shivers through your body.  

You kiss each other for a long time, not wanting to go back to reality where you’re just friends, but finally you have to pull away for air. You look at each other, both of you quiet. There’s a new electricity in the air, charged with the anticipation of what you’ll say to each other now that everything has changed.  

“How was that?” Eddie settles on, his brow set in a concerning furrow. He wants to make sure that you had the best experience he could’ve offered you, because that’s what you deserve. You deserve to feel this good all the time. 

Your soft eyes bore into his and you nod slowly, trying to etch every detail of this night into your memory forever. “It was amazing. You are...” Your hand comes to hold his face, and he leans into your touch in such a way that your heart melts for him even more. “You’re so amazing, Eddie, thank you.” You give a little laugh then, at how silly it sounds for you to thank your friend for giving you an orgasm. Eddie laughs a little too, and he stretches his lips to kiss the edge of your palm. 

“Anything for my favorite girl,” He whispers, smiling that easy smile that you love so much. Pride sparkles in your chest at his words. God, you love him so much... 

“So...” You feel a blush creeping on your face again, “You’ve been wanting me... like this?” You think back to the words he whispered against your neck that made your insides turn to mush. 

Eddie flicks his eyes away from you, embarrassed. “You caught that, huh?” 

“Was I not supposed to?” You giggle, your smile sending shockwaves through Eddie’s body. 

“Well, I just didn’t think you would. You seemed to be pretty distracted if I recall,” He jabs playfully, his gaze returning to you. His eyes soften at his next thought, “What do you think about that?” 

This is it, this is where everything changes. It’ll never be the same after this. “I...” You begin, building your courage. “I’ve been wanting that, too.”  

Eddie’s face moves through confusion, surprise, and then settles on joy, his smile widening to reach his sparking brown eyes. “Yeah? You’ve been wanting that too?” Your smile matches his as you nod, letting out a breath of a laugh with the relief settling in your chest. 

Suddenly, Eddie squeezes you in a bone crushing hug, peppering kisses over your face as you giggle. His lips settle on yours again, and it’s like taking a drink of cool water after wandering in the desert. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to this, but by God, you’d be happy to. 

You keep kissing and cuddling for a long time, talking like you usually do, how best friends do, but now it’s just better. Best friends, but there’s no more hesitancy, no more wishing for more, because now, you have everything you could ever want. 

[words-4u]

don’t shut me out

pairing: jordan li x f!reader

wc: 750

a/n: i combined the two requests bc they felt kinda similar but i hope you guys enjoy <3

(NOTE: your super power is the ability to transform into any animal you want)

you stared at the last message you sent jordan.

to j 💗 i miss u. text me when u see this pls

you had sent that text at 8 pm last night and it was almost noon the next day and you still hadn't heard back from them. sighing deeply, you locked your phone, stuffing it in to your backpack.

is it me? did i do something? you thought.

it might seem over the top reacting this way but jordan is so communicative especially at night so it was off brand for them to go ghost like this. you were going through the different possibilities in your head as walked the god u campus to get to your next class, you had almost missed your friend calling your name.

“hey, y/n!” 

you looked up and saw cate beckoning you over to a table she’s at with andre.

“hey guys,” you said with no excitement which the blonde found weird.

“did your cat die or something? what’s up?” she asked patting the seat in between her and andre.

you huffed and set your bag on the table and your head on andre’s shoulder.

“okay this is gonna sound so stupid but i’ve been texting jordan all night and all morning today and i haven’t heard so much as a peep from them. i know the messages are going through, i just don't know why they're ignoring me”

“oh y/n. you haven’t heard,” andre begins. ”jordan’s parents are in town. we don’t know much about them but we know they are jordan’s least favourite topic.”

“i mean they’ve told me the basics but…” you trail off.

if their parents are in town then that explain why they’ve been so hard to reach. jordan's parents have never understood them and always made them feel ashamed of their powers which is ridiculous because they are ones who’ve injected their kid with compound V.

"guys i’ve got to go,” you said grabbing your bags and transforming into an eagle, flying off to jordan's student accommodation.

you knock rapidly on your partner’s door, once you arrived. “jordan, open up!”

silence.

you grabbed your vphone out of your bag and checked the “find my” app. “i can literally see that you’re in there so either you open this door and let me in or i turn into a snake and slither in… your choice.”

you hear some metal clanging and something unlocked and in a second you were faced with your gorgeous significant other who looked like they have been crying their eyes out.

no words needed to be said between you before you dropped your bag and pulled them into your arms, rocking them side to side.

you let a few moments pass before you spoke. “why didn't you just tell me?”

“i’m sorry,” they said pulling away. “i fall into this pit of self hatred when my parents come around.”

you guided them to the bed and played with their fingers as you shared your thoughts. “you know i thought you were ignoring cause i might've done something to piss you off or something…”

“no, baby” they whispered. “it’s not you. like at all. it’s them. they… they’ve never accepted my full powers. the girl version anyway. to my parents, i’m their golden boy and nothing else. i came to god u and swore that i would never feel ashamed of myself and would never be forced to choose one gender like my parents desperately want.”

“that’s a lot to carry by yourself, jord,” you move their short black bob out of their face and tuck it behind their ear. “i’m here if you ever need to talk. about any of it.”

“i know,” they smiled softly.

“and for what it’s worth i like…all of you,” you confessed which made jordan put on their sexy grin that you fell for.

“is that right? and which parts of me do you like?” they asked switching to their male form and placing you on their lap.

“hmm now that i think about it, i actually can’t remember,” you stroked your chin jokingly.

“how about i make you remember?” they replied, capturing your lips in an over due kiss. you breathe them in as you run your hands through their short hair.

you pulled away still holding their face in your hands. “promise to tell me when things bother you, big or small okay? i don’t want you to shut me out.”

jordan nodded, whispering, “i promise,” before kissing you once more.

[producedbyhanjisung]

⎯ ALL MINE. christopher bahng chan

🎧 : christopher bahng x female reader

TROPE. alien chan au, friends to lovers au, eventual smut, minors dni

WORD COUNT. 5.9k

WARNINGS. mentions of war, mentions of aliens

SYNOPSIS. when chan crash-lands on earth after running headfirst into the international space station, he has no choice but to follow the mysterious girl from earth who offers him exactly what he needs - a place to sleep, food to eat, and a pair lips that were practically a dream on their own. chan finds that he is fantasizing about you more and more, until finally, he snaps.

SMUT WARNINGS. nipple play (female receiving), hickeys, making out, tentacle play, corruption kink, spit kink, blindfolding, dom!chan, sub!reader, bulge kink, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex

If you were anything, you were smart. Street smart, book smart - a combination of the two.

Any smart person knows not to run towards an explosion. Any smart person knows not to run toward an explosion that came from a ship. Any smart person knows not to run towards an explosion that came from a ship that came from the sky.

And yet, that's exactly what you were doing.

What if someone was hurt? What if there weren't even people on board?

Thoughts ricocheted through your head as you ran, but you didn't react to any of them. The only thing in your mind was getting to that sleek silver work of aerospace art that had collapsed onto the property of you and your college roommate’s newly purchased farmhouse.

When you arrived at the crash site, it was burning. But not regular flames - these were purple. Tendrils of violet and lavender reached up to the sky, grasping for the sky, never to reach.

You froze, watching someone stumble out of the wreck, coughing and dusted in a layer of dark ash. "Fuck!" They yelled, turning and kicking the ship, not minding the fire. "Fucking fuckity fuck!"

You weren't sure what to do. Should you approach the guy, or should you hide and watch from a distance, until you knew he wasn't a threat? What would a smart person do . . .

Thankfully, you didn't have to think that hard. The person turned, catching a glimpse of you through the trees.

"Hello?" he called - you could see he looked more masculine now, but you couldn't make out the details of his face or clothes.

"Is that yours?" you ask, dumbfounded.

"What do you think?" he snapped. He had an accent - vaguely Australian sounding, but not quite. His voice was deep and full, and sent a corkscrew of warmth down your spine.

"Well I'd assume so, but people out here have been getting wild lately."

The man shook his head, groaning and pressing his face into his hands.

"What's your name?" you call after a moment of watching him mentally decompose.

He doesn't answer for a minute. Then, "Chan." It's muffled through his fingers, but you hear it. "Bang Chan." Then he looks up, eyes meeting yours. "Yours?"

"Y/N."

"Pretty."

Silence again.

"How'd your ship crash anyways?"

Chan shakes his head. "Your fucking International Space Station."

You pause. "What?"

"The International Space Station - you know what that is right?"

"Obviously. You said your. As if it's not yours too. It's international." You suppose a smart person would have caught on by now, and you slowly were. But you don't want to admit it - it's impossible, isn't it?

"Y/N, darling, I'm not from Earth so therefore the word 'international' does not apply to me, so yes, I meant your stupid fucking space station took out my stupid fucking spaceship."

You stare at him, mouth hanging open. It's only when a little bit of drool threatened to slip out that you close it. "You mean you're-"

"An alien~ wooooooo." He turned towards me on the "woo", half-heartedly making an impression of a ghost from a shitty 80s horror movie. "Scared?"

You just blink. "Not scared . . . maybe a little confused?"

"Why?"

"If you wanted to hurt me you would have done it already."

Chan is crossing to you now, tilting his head as he stops a few feet from you. "How do you know I won't hurt you? My species loves feasting on humans. How do you know I'm not saving you for later?"

"Maybe you are. Later is later, whatever. I have so many questions."

Chan pretends to pout. "I don't really wanna answer them."

"Can I have three?" You pretend to pout back, rolling your eyes.

He nods, waving me on.

"Why Earth?"

"Just what I was passing by."

"Where are you from?"

"A planet called Levanter. On the planet, I'm from District 9."

You take in the information, calculating your final question. "Are you really gonna eat me?"

Chan laughs. "No, of course not. That would be bad etiquette."

You smile a little as he turns away. "Levanter is where you're from?"

He hums in response, nodding. "Levanter is an ugly planet. You wouldn't like it."

"What makes you think that?"

"It's dying. All black rocks and lava and women with no teeth."

"What?"

He frowns. "Levanter's dying, and its people are too. Everyone is as ugly as the planet."

Before you can bite your tongue, you blurt out, "You're not ugly."

Chan scoffs. "Please. By standards on Levanter, I'm purely average. I have this friend named Hyunjin-" He pauses, as if checking the amount of information he gives you. "Anyway. I have to fix my ship now. So if you could-"

"I have space. Where you could fix it. And tools." You can't help but want to know more about this mysterious world of Levanter, and Chan's home of District 9. You also don't want to leave the strange alien-man wandering around in the woods near your house - you'd rather be able to keep an eye on him, especially since your new neighbors are nosy. You're sure that the people of your town wouldn't take Chan's arrival on Earth as well as you had. "And food," you add. "You eat, right?"

"Everything eats, Y/N."

"So will you come with me? It's getting late." You motion at the sinking sun, which has just begun to dip below the horizon, casting a beautiful light show of crimson, gold, and vermillion across the atmosphere. "We can leave your ship here, if it makes you feel better. We can get it tomorrow morning. No one ever comes out here."

"You came out here."

I sigh. "I saw your ship crash. Seeing as no one else is here, I'm assuming I was the only one. Plus, you need to get your wounds treated. That doesn't look too good." You motion to a gash on his shoulder, exposed where his suit had torn. It looks fresh, and you gather that it was from the crash.

Chan pauses, thinking for a minute, then nods. "We'll leave the ship here, and bring it to your safe place tomorrow. Right?"

"Right. Is that okay?"

He nods again, starting to follow you as you turn on your heels.

It's a fifteen minute walk back to your small farmhouse, shared with Mina, your roommate, who texted you the day before that she was staying in the city with her boyfriend for the week.

"No one else is home," you explain to him as you push open the door. The city you attended college was only an hour from the seemingly-middle-of-nowhere location you and Mina had chosen to stay over the summer, which meant she could visit her boyfriend, who had bought an apartment on campus.

"You live with someone else?"

You nod. "Her name's Mina. She won't be home for a few days though. How long will it take for you to get your ship back up and running?"

"A week, maybe two?"

You cough. "Two weeks?"

He shrugs. "I didn't look at the damage at all. I just followed you. I won't really have a good idea until I look tomorrow."

You stare out the window, eyes focused on your old Land Rover in the driveway. "Okay."

"Do you have anything to eat? I'm really hungry," Chan says, laughing a little. "I had plenty of food on the ship, but I'm guessing it might be a little burnt right now."

“Maybe just a little,” you agree. “What kind of food do people on Levanter eat?”

He shrugs. “I like Nilla wafers.”

“What?”

“Those come from Earth, don’t they? Nilla wafers. Do you have any?”

You shake your head slowly. “I could run out and get some, if you’d like.” You’re baffled. Here’s this strange alien-man with an Australianish and who you can see has at least three knives on him currently, and here he is asking for Nilla wafers. “You’re a silly dude, Chan.”

He shrugs.

“Do you really want Nilla wafers?”

Another shrug.

“Do you want me to go get you some? It’ll probably take me around a half an hour.”

Yet another shrug. You glare at Chan, who gives you a half-hearted thumbs up.

“You’re so . . .”

“Infuriating?”

“Human,” you finish, staring at him.

“Humans descend from people on Levanter. We migrated here long ago - when we first found out our planet was dying. The lucky ones escaped to here - paradise. The unfortunate were left to die on Levanter.”

You stare at him. “Then how come people don’t know about Levanter here? Or that there are other beings in space?”

Chan sighs. “They wanted a fresh start here. The ships dropped them off ass naked and freezing to the bone. That’s what you call Neanderthals, right? Memories fade over time, and over millennia, I guess it’s easy to forget about what you don’t want to remember.”

You stare at him. “So Earth has this big crazy lore and no one even knows about it? What the fuck?”

Chan nods. “I know it sounds crazy. You don’t have to believe me.”

And yet, you trust him. You believe that Chan is telling the truth.

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, letting the new world of information sink into your mind. It’s hard to wrap your head around, and even harder to realize that you’re probably the only Earth-born person alive to know about the existence of Levanter and entities beyond Earth. And here, one of them is sitting in your kitchen, drinking chocolate milk out of a bright blue sippy cup.

Finally, you clap your hands together, startling Chan. “Okay. Should we go to the store?”

“Like a grocery store? For what?”

“Nilla wafers, dummy.”

—————————————————————————

Eight days after Chan landed on Earth, it feels like you’ve lived together for an eternity. Like he’s a regular human guy, who goes to college with you - maybe he majors in something dumb like English.

He works on his ship during the day, and you visit him, working on summer homework in the back corner of the barn, listening to him tell stories about Levanter and his family, and his dog Berry (dogs were also apparently Levanter-delivered to Earth, because humans were too incompetent to survive on their own).

He’s moved on from his short-lived obsession with Nilla wafers, moving onto the strange discovery of sprinkles, which he now keeps a tin of in his back pocket. The first day he was here, you went out and thrifted a bunch of clothes for him that weren’t a space suit, since most of his burnt up in the crash. He liked the baggy jeans and knit sweaters you brought back for him, saying that if you ever needed to borrow one, he'd be happy to lend it to you.

You're curled up in one of his sweatshirts currently, sitting on a hay bale in the barn, watching Chan as he works on his ship. The night breeze tickles what little skin you have exposed, and you shiver under the mint-green layer. It smells like him, you note. Something homely but unfamiliar to you, although it felt like you should know it. The scent gives you heavy eyelids.

"'S fucking hot in here," Chan mutters, turning around to look at you.

You shiver in response, shaking your head. "I don't know how you're hot."

"Are you cold? Come here." Chan opens his arms as he waddles toward you, wrapping his body around yours in a warm hug. He looks down at you. "Should we call it a night? I need to let a few things sit in there."

You nod sleepily, letting him gently tug you to your feet.

"Tired too?" Chan asks. He tsks. "Y/N, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I wanted to sit with you. I like your stories," you mumble.

"Of Levanter?"

"Your sister, your dog. Your music."

In the short while you've known Chan, you've discovered lots about him. He produces music on Levanter, and was a part of a music group before he and the rest of his band enlisted in the military. He has a dog, a sister, a brother, and two great parents. He and his friend Felix were both pilots in the military of District 9, which was at war with District 16. He and Felix had been on a deep space mission when they were struck by a meteor storm, and Chan was blown off course. He ran straight into Earth's International Space Station, and landed in your backyard.

And that's how he ended up here, with you peacefully sleeping beside him on the couch of your living room. He couldn't help but watch you. Your lips were parted slightly, eyes flitting back and forth beneath your lids, chest rising and falling with your gentle breathing.

How can someone be so beautiful? he thought. Sure, women on Levanter were usually not too pretty - but even compared to the other Earth-born women he had seen on TV and such, you were like a goddess. Chan found himself wanting to drop to his knees every time you entered the room, and treat you exactly how a goddess should be treated.

Yesterday, he had awoken in a cold sweat after having a dream exactly like that. He was on his knees in front of you, lips trailing up and down the insides of your thighs while you fell apart above him. Such pretty sounds dream you had made.

Chan shakes off the memory. He's only known you for eight days, how is he having thoughts like this? And yet he can't shake the image of your pretty eyes watching him, hooded, and your lips parted for a completely different reason. He wondered what you taste like. Sweet, he finally decides. Like raspberries.

He watches you for a while longer, ignoring the quiet noise of the television in the background. Finally, when he decides you won't be waking up any time soon, he walks quietly over to you and scoops you into his arms, bridal style.

You stir a little as he lifts you, and mumble into his chest, "Fucking chinchillas." He wonders what you could possibly be dreaming about that you're having an argument with chinchillas.

Chan's careful as he goes up the stairs, making sure not to trip over the crooked sixth step. When he gets to your room, he carefully lies you in your bed, pulling your blanket up over you after he did so.

He turns toward your closet, where his small repertoire of Earthy clothes are sitting on one of your abandoned shelves. Softly, he changes his clothes into pajamas, opting to put on a pair of black and white plaid pajama pants and leaving his shirt off. When he steps out of your closet, you're still fast asleep, facing the opposite wall.

He leaves your room quietly, making his way down the hall to your roommate, Mina's room. You told him a few days ago that Mina was staying with her boyfriend in the city nearby for a little bit, so he didn't have to worry about sleeping in her bed or intruding on her space. You assured him that he should make himself at home, but he still got a little nervous every time he walked in the room, feeling out of place.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, sighing, and tapping his intercom face. Though the screen was damaged, he had kept it on his wrist since he had arrived on Earth. The screen remained dark, and he tapped it again, twice this time.

Suddenly, there was a holographic image of Felix standing in front of him. The hologram was shaky and out of focus, but it was definitely Felix - what other soldier with an intercom had bright blue hair and wore a sweater vest?

"Chan?" Felix asked. "Where . . . disappeared . . . went home . . . sorry . . . are you?"

"You're cutting out," Chan said, standing. "Felix, wait, say that again, you're-"

"Come . . . invasion . . . soldiers . . . pick up . . . weeks . . ."

"You keep cutting out." Chan's voice was raising. Stupid fucking broken intercom. Suddenly, the communication cut out entirely, and Chan was once again left in silence in the strange room.

—————————————————————————

You were screaming. That's all you could register as you sat up straight in your bed, breathing heavily.

Chan's in your room in a heartbeat. He's shirtless, wearing a pair of pajama pants you remember buying for him. "Y/N? Y/N! Hey, what happened?" He's in front of you now, hands on your shoulders and face inches from yours, searching your features in a frenzy.

And now you're crying. You can't even remember what you were dreaming about anymore. Just the fact that Chan had sprinted from his room to yours in a matter of seconds just to make sure you were okay is enough to make you cry. You're so cool, Y/N. You roll your eyes at yourself mentally.

Chan pauses awkwardly in front of you as you bury your face in your plush blanket. "What the fuck?" you manage to say, wiping your tears as you look back up at him.

"Are you okay?" he asks gently.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."

"Okay. Breathe with me, okay? In . . . eight, seven six . . . out . . . four, five, six . . ."

You realize he's doing Box Breathing with you, a military technique for staying calm. Moments like this, seeing him so humanly, you forget he's a soldier - and one not even of this world. You forget he's killed, and injured, and committed heinous crimes against other beings.

"See? Everything's fine." Chan reaches out, taking your hand in his. You look down, caught off guard, and take in how veiny his hands are, how nimble and long his pretty fingers look. "Just breathing. Yeah?"

You look back up at his face. "Thank you."

"Yeah, of course."

The two of you sit in silence for a moment.

"Can you stay with me?" you ask quietly. "In case that . . . happens again."

Chan nods. "Do you want me on the floor?"

You shake your head. "You can stay in my bed. It's the least I can do, if you're gonna stay in here."

He gives you a small smile, dimples extra deep-looking in the moonlight.

You move over, closer to the wall your bed is pushed against, and let Chan get in next to you.

He slides softly under the covers, and you feel his arm touching yours as the two of you look up at the ceiling.

"Do you miss Levanter?" you ask him quietly.

Chan is silent for a minute. Then, "No."

"No?" You turn over to face him, propping your head up on your elbow and curling your knees to your chest. The room is dark, but you catch a glimpse of his eyes raking up and down your legs.

He turns too. "Y/N, you don't know what it's like to be a soldier on a dying planet. Riots, homicides, bombings . . . they're everyday things no matter where you are on the planet. Here it's . . ." he pauses, looking for the word. "This is the safest I've ever felt, actually."

You stare at him, overcome with emotion. You can't even begin to imagine the traumatic events he's witnessed, the countless lives he himself has had to take, the amount of people he's watched the life seep away from.

"Look." Chan sits up, turning away from you so that his bare back is in front of you. You try to ignore the way his muscles ripple as he moves, the way they flex tenderly beneath the skin. "Can you see?" You nod, taking in what's on top of the muscles. Scars. Tons of them, big and small, twisting across the canvas of flesh on his back.

"You have so many scars," you murmur, slowly reaching out to touch one right below his left shoulder blade.

He hisses quietly, wincing away gingerly. It's an inhumane sound, one that a snake might produce, and you're reminded that Chan isn't actually a human. Humans may have evolved from his species, but you have no idea of his anatomy and physiology - you can only assume it's similar to yours. "That's war, love."

Love. You try not to shiver at the unexpected pet name. "I'm sorry."

He looks at you over his shoulder. "Why are you sorry?"

"That this happened. That your planet is like this. That-"

"Stop." Chan's hand is covering your mouth. "You shouldn't be sorry. Let's not talk about this any more."

You nod.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?" You glance over at him.

"Is it weird if I ask to kiss you?"

Your heart is pounding out of your chest, threatening to jump out and give Chan a big old smooch itself.

"I-no. It's not weird. Why though?"

He shrugs. "Wanna see if Earth people do it differently."

You stare at him. "Do you think we do?"

"There's only one way to find out." His lips are on yours. They're big, plush, soft against yours, groping desperately for a hold on your mouth. He's a fantastic kisser, pausing to bite your lip gently and pull it towards him. He lets go, and his lips are back on you in a moment, soothing the pain.

When he pulls away, he swears he's never seen a prettier sight. The neck of your sweater is pulled down, exposing your bare shoulder, and your lips are swollen and red. You're looking up at Chan through hooded eyes, trying to guess his next move.

Chan moves closer to you, gently pushing you down against the pillows. Not with either of his hands, you realize as he hovers over you, because they're both supporting his weight on either side of your head. You look down, seeing a flash of purple disappear behind Chan's back.

"What was that?" you ask him.

"What was what?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." You jerk your head at his hands.

Chan sighs. "I thought you might get scared, but I got carried away. I won't bring it out again. I'm sorry."

"Don't fucking apologize. Can I see it?"

"What?"

"Can I see your weird tentacle thing?"

His weird tentacle thing pokes up over his shoulder, slithering through the air towards you. You reach out, brushing your nails over it, and Chan shivers, grabbing your wrist. "Don't."

"Why not?"

"Please don't."

"Why?"

"It . . ." Chan pauses. "It feels good."

You raise your eyebrows. "What do you mean?" You reach for it again, this time with your other hand, but his other hand shoots out to grab you.

"Y/N." His eyes are dark, watching you carefully. "Don't."

"What'll happen if I do?"

"God, Y/N." Chan is standing now, pacing around the room, his tentacle trailing in a wave pattern behind him.

"What's the big deal?" you ask. "If it feels good, why can't I touch it?"

"Because," Chan says, "once it starts I don't know if I'll be able to stop." He kneels next to your bed, looking up at you pleadingly. "I don't want to hurt you."

You bring your face closer to his, tilting your head and breathing in his sweet scent. "What if I don't want you to be able to stop? Who says people from Levanter don't fuck the same way people from Earth do?"

Chan snaps. In one motion, he's pulled you from your bed, tangled in blankets, and has you pressed into the fluffy fabric of your rug. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he says softly, voice deep.

"I have a pretty good idea. Plus, it's good experimentation, right?"

Chan grins, face moving closer to yours. You lean up to kiss him, but you feel something pinning you down - his tentacle, you realize.

"Not so quick, pretty."

You barely register the fact that his tentacle is taking off your shirt. All you can think of is that Chan called you pretty.

"Take your time," he chides, tracing his fingers slowly, teasingly up your bare abdomen.

"Are you kidding?"

His lips move down to yours, smile pressing against your mouth. "I'm dead serious."

You giggle a little, but are quieted quickly when his tentacle taps lightly against your hip, then traces itself towards your core. Chan leans back to look at you - half dressed, lips puffy, eyes lidded, chest heaving already. "You're perfect," he mumbles, leaning down to kiss right under your bra. He slides the fingers of his right hand up to your bra as well, sneaking them under your bra to roll your nipple between them. You gasp a little at the contact, and he looks up at you, grinning. "You like that?"

You nod quickly, and he squeezes your nipple a little, pushing your bra up at the same time so he can watch it. He stares, almost fascinated, as he tweaks and pulls and rubs your nipple. At one particularly harsh tug, you moan out quietly.

"That's so fuckin' hot," Chan mumbles, moving up so that he can lick your nipple. He runs his tongue harshly around it, seemingly trying to bury itself in the little hole in the center. Then he wraps his beautiful lips around it and sucks in, breathing in deeply as though it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. "You're divine, love," he mumbles around your tit.

You feel his tentacle tracing your neck, slowly wrapping around it. "Chan," you say quickly, a little panicked.

"Sh, sh." His hand reaches up to cover your mouth, his own lips still hanging loosely on your nipple. "It's okay." As if reading your fears straight out of your mind, he adds, "I have complete control over it. It's not trying to kill you. Is this okay, or do you want me to stop?"

"Don't you fucking dare stop."

He chuckles against your skin, letting his tentacle fully wrap around your throat. It squeezes a tiny bit, and you gasp at the feeling, your hips bucking up towards Chan. He tsks, tilting his head up at you and unlatching his mouth from your tit.

"Chan," you mumble, "Need more."

"More? More how? Show me."

You take his hand, watching him with hooded eyes, and pull it down to your core. The moment he comes in contact with you over your shorts you shiver.

"You're so sensitive," Chan says, lips turned up in a half smile as he watches you.

"Are you not?" You wrap your hands around part of the tentacle around your throat, testing the waters by stroking it a little, and his eyes roll back in his head, his entire body convulsing over you.

"Holy fuck," you say. "Chan, did you just-"

"No! No. No. I'm not- no."

You sit up, eyes widening. "Channie, did you really-"

His hand covers your mouth. "I didn't cum if that's what you're asking. I just wasn't expecting it."

"Are you sure? 'Cause you look like you just descended into heaven and came back down a changed man."

Chan scoffs. "I did not descend into heaven."

You pump his tentacle again, and he doubles over, face pressed into your neck, a low groan tearing from his throat. "That's so fuckin' hot," you mumble.

Then, Chan is up again, pushing you once again back down into your pillows, this time using his tentacle to pin both hands above your head. "No touching, now," he says lowly.

You bite your tongue as he takes hold of your chin, turning your head so he can examine you. "Such a pretty little thing. I wanna ruin you."

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

"Open," he says, one finger tapping your lips twice. You open your mouth obediently, and Chan leans forward. He opens his mouth, and a glowing blue liquid drips from his mouth into yours. He just spit in my mouth, you realize.

"Now you're mine." Chan watches as you swirl the spit around in your mouth. "All mine."

You hardly have time to ask what he means before his lips are on you again. You break the kiss away, looking up at Chan. "Fuck me. Rail me. Whatever you wanna fucking do- I need more."

He smiles. "Your wish is my command. But first . . ." He stands up next to your bed, his tentacle still holding your arms in place over your head, and pulls off his pajama pants, leaving him bare except for a pair of Calvin Klein boxers. He pauses in front of you, lips parted. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." It's the fastest you've ever answered a question, you think.

He nods, taking his pant leg and draping it over your eyes. "Lift your head," he says. You do as he says, and feel him tie it in the back. You're blindfolded, your sense of sight blocked by a pair of black and white pajama pants. The pants smell good, you realize. Like rosewater.

Meanwhile, Chan pauses above you, one leg on either side of your hips. He looks down at your still form, arms draped above your head, eyes covered, stomach inflating and deflating with every breath you take. "Let's get rid of these first," he mumbles, pulling off your shorts. He watches as goosebumps spread along your body, the act foreign to him.

He runs his finger over your panties experimentally, and your hips jerk up into his palm, searching for friction. "Woah, woah. Needy, needy."

"Wasn't expecting it," you say softly.

Chan moves down so that his face is level with your core, pressing a gentle kiss over the fabric of your underwear. You squirm a little, and he moves his palm to press flat against your pelvis, holding you in place.

Gently, he hooks one finger under your panties and pulls them down off you. His eyes stay completely attached to your glistening cunt, watching for any little movement you make. Then, slowly, he leans forward to kiss it.

You moan the moment his lips touch you, wrapping around your clit. "Fuck," you breathe out, hands grasping tightly onto each other, still rendered useless by Chan's tentacle.

Chan looks up, gouging your reaction to his movements. You cum once, twice, three times on his tongue before you're using your legs to shove him away, the alien completely pussy-drunk.

His boxers are off and he's inside you before you can even ask him for it. Chan knows he's purely average-sized on Levanter, but here, on Earth, he has a monster cock. When he bottoms out inside you, listening to your pretty sounds and the way your face contorts so delightfully, he can already see the shadow of his cock bulging through your stomach. He runs his hand over it, pressing a little where it's most prominent, and you throw your head back. "Look at this, pretty girl." Chan reaches up to take your chin again, tilting your head so you can see the bulge. "So beautiful," he mumbles to himself, shallowly thrusting.

As his thrusts get faster, deeper, harder, he leans forward, kissing you, but in the overwhelming pleasure neither Chan nor you can keep your lips attached, mouths parted open instead as you near your highs.

"Chan, Chan, I'm gonna cum," you say. "Chan-" Then you're shaking violently, entire body tensed and head thrown back as an almost animalistic noise rips out of your throat.

Your walls squeeze tight around Chan, and his lips drop to press against your shoulder, muffling his groans as he thrusts one last time, much harder into you, and cum spurts out of him, coating the inside of you.

The two of you lie in silence for a few minutes, before Chan rolls off you and gets out of bed. "Where are you going?" you call after him, but he doesn't respond.

You sulk back into your sheets, annoyed. Twenty minutes later, the pretty alien returns wearing a new pair of pajama pants, and carrying with him a wet washcloth, bowl of ramen, and bottle of water.

"Chan . . ." you say quietly.

He sits down next to you, surveying your body. His cum is dripping out of you - shimmering blue. "Are you tired?" he asks.

You shake your head. "Wanna talk to you."

He smiles. "You eat and drink. I'll clean you up, and then we can talk, okay?"

You stare at him for a moment as he hands you the bowl of ramen and water, wondering how he could possibly be real. That pretty smile with those gorgeous dimples, on the same body as those perfect abs and massive dick - not to mention the fact that twenty minutes ago, he was railing you into your next life, and now he's sitting in front of you like he's your babysitter.

"I looked up a phrase, while I was making this," Chan mumbles as he runs the washcloth of your center, wiping up his cum off you and cleaning you up. "A word, actually." He folds the washcloth over so his cum is stuck inside and deposits it gently by your door, then returns to hand you what you can only imagine is one of the sweaters you got for him, since it's not one of yours. He goes to your closet, and gets out a fresh pair of panties. You reach to take them from him, but he shakes his head, sliding them onto your legs and up until your thighs. "Hips up, sweetheart," he says, concentrated. You do as he asks, and he finishes putting your panties back on.

"What word?" you ask, watching him crawl back over you to get into bed.

"L-O-V-E. How do you say it?"

"Love." You look over at him. "You don't know that word?"

He shakes his head. "It's not something we have a name for on Levanter. I guess people there tend to not care as much. I like the word though."

"Why did you want to know it?"

"Because I think it applies here. To me, at least. For you."

You turn over to face Chan. "What do you mean?"

"I love you." You can tell he's blushing, and you giggle when he asks, "That's how you say it, right?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Okay. Yeah. Good. I mean, Y/N, I know I've only been here for, what, two weeks? But, I don't know. Everyday I just . . . I want to spend more time with you. And get to know you, and make you food, and give you kisses, and, I don't know, raise kids with you, and buy a house together. Never go back to Levanter. I want to just . . . stay here."

You want to cry, all of a sudden. "You wanna stay here? On Earth?"

Chan takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and rubbing his thumb over your own. "Yeah. If you'd have me, I think."

"Chan, what about your parents, your sister? Your friends? Felix?."

He looks down. "Felix is coming to find me. I'll have a chance to say goodbye. Y/N, nothing is honestly that important to me but you right now."

You quiet your voice, and ask again, "You really want to stay on Earth?"

"Yes. But, look, that doesn't mean we have to stay. There's a whole world out there, love. We could always visit Levanter - or if you didn't want to go I could go by myself."

"Your ship is still broken though."

Chan's eyes are glued to your wall.

"Right?"

"My ship has been fixed for three days," he mumbles. "I just . . . didn't want to leave. Like I said, I think I'm in love with you."

"I love you too, Chan."

The two of you sit in silence for a little longer, and you nestle close to Chan, tucking yourself into his chest as his arms wrap around you.

"So," you ask, looking up at him. "Do people on Earth kiss differently than people on Levanter?"

[tojivu]

# SOBER UP ‣ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

✰ — author’s note should this be considered a shtpost LOL

✰ — playing mad riches by sonder .

✰ — cw / tags mentions of alcohol , comfort and fluff , f!reader , college au , ex boyfriend + situationship megumi , idk if i made him seem like a red flag here but idc… #megumiapologist

✰ — word count 1.7k

MEGUMI , who tags along when his friends go drinking at a bar nearby your campus and has an alcohol tolerance higher than everyone in the room, combined.

this man does not play when it comes to drinking games. honestly, he would not be interested in playing at all if not for yuji egging him on—any chance to prove himself will not go wasted, especially when it’s his own best friend doubting his ability.

you’re playing along, after yuji had pestered your friends to join in—you took one for the team and decided to go with it. truth or drink: two options, it would be an easy feat. just pick truth every time.

everyone is gathered around the large table at the centre of the establishment, glasses in hand. megumi is across from you, blank expression worn—he doesn’t seem to be enjoying the occasion, but he's partaking anyway. his arms are crossed, eyes locked on the surface of the table. you had hoped to speak to him tonight, but it seemed like you wouldn't be able to.

you’re swirling your glass around, generating a whirlpool in your drink—waiting for yuji to move on from asking nonsensical questions and to let the night get more exciting. he seems to be the life of the party, people often picking him to answer their queries: it’s a horrible time to be popular, because he soon excuses himself after a few glasses.

it’s that way with everyone in the group, with every popular student getting picked in order—eventually, it’s just you, megumi, and 3 other people.

“y/n.” an unfamiliar voice calls your name, one belonging to a boy you’ve never seen before. “truth or drink?”

“truth.” you respond, wanting to last as long as possible: not taking a sip until it was absolutely necessary. your apartment was quite a long way from where you were: a long cab ride with an intoxicated system didn’t sound appealing at all. you hoped it wouldn’t be too scandalous of a question, after all, not many people knew you personally—so they didn’t have much to ask.

“anyone here. . . you don’t mind going on a date with?”

that was a stupid question. your college was full of teenage-minded boys who didn't think twice before doing anything. nobody was serious enough for your taste, and regretfully so: you're unable to answer the question and you take a shot.

MEGUMI , who glares at you, despondently, from athwart the table because you didn't answer the question with his name. he exhales, eyebrows furrowing and the grip on his cup tightening. it was unfair of him to expect a response with his name—after what had happened.

fushiguro and you were a complicated pair. many have heard of you two and yet knew so little: you've dated him in the past and things were on and off since then. yet, people pretend they don't see you slipping out of his dorm as soon as the sun rises, and that they don't see him staring daggers into any man that speaks to you.

sure, you two would have your flings—each time swearing it was the last. you knew it wasn’t right, but if nobody uttered any ‘i love you’s, what was the real harm?

just a week ago, an argument ensued between the two of you. he was yelling about how he had too many classes and couldn't see you, and you were saying how he should've tried anyway.

he reminded you that night that you two weren't together anymore, and off you went; out his door and no calls returned.

megumi knew you were angry when you didn't bother scolding him via text, as you usually would, but he knew you were livid when you didn't bother thinking of your answer—instead chugging your glass.

your giggles get louder, and your head dizzier. you're holding onto the chair behind you, and megumi is pissed off with the way your friends are more concerned with taking pictures than looking out for you.

the circle remains, with the same boy picking you to answer his inappropriate questions regarding your love life. megumi is concerned with how much alcohol is entering your system. he's standing up straight now, worried that you'll black out any moment—he knew better than anyone that you couldn't hold your liquor. he can't help but blame the guy picking on you; you seemed to be stuttering and yet he didn't stop.

"you know what," he walks around the table and grabs the empty cup from your hands. "this is dangerous. you can't handle liquor."

you're stumbling over your own feet as you try to retrieve your cup from megumi, who's raising it over his head and out of your reach.

"'gumi . . ."

your words are slurred and your face is flushed red. your hands try to reach up, but come down to his chest as you almost fall on top of him. megumi is concerned, but his face shows annoyance; he places the cup down and slithers his arm around your waist to support you.

it's been a long while since you called him that, or any nickname at all. something stirs in his chest, it was something about his nickname leaving your lips—he can't help but stare at them, so that's precisely what he does.

"i'm taking you home."

you whine, but your uncoordinated self is unable to fight the strong arms that pull you out of the bar, away from the crowd and onto the pavement outside.

you're hitting megumi's chest while babbling nonstop about how much of a party pooper he is. the look on his face appears nonchalant—your ex couldn't care less about ruining the fun. he cared about you, and the least he could do was make sure you got home safe.

"you're always like this, 'gumi . . ." you hit his chest again, your head buried in the crook of his neck. your breath against his skin tickles, shuddering when you say his name. "always . . . ruining the fun."

megumi's attempts at hailing a cab render useless, and public transport had their last journey an hour ago. you complain about your heels to him, with a pout that makes him weak in the knees.

"your shoes . . . so comfy."

he swears under his breath because no other girl could embarass him like this. megumi walks with you, your gleaming heels in his hands and his socks getting torn by the harsh asphalt. he hates being barefoot—but you're treading the path happily, wearing his sneakers—so he thinks it's bearable, just for a short while.

MEGUMI , who takes you to a convenience store close by and buys you two bottles of water, hoping you could sober up a little.

it's 2 in the morning and you're sitting on a bench outside of a 7-11 with your ex boyfriend, who you can't help but stare at. he looks unusually handsome, you think, just a little bit more than usual. you feel like your first year self pining over him all over again, but this time, he's much closer.

you remember the fight a week ago and you're brought back to reality of what it was. megumi hit you cold and hard with the truth, and you find yourself shifting your gaze to the empty bottle of water at your feet.

you hear megumi's breath hitch a few times, almost as if he was meaning to say something—but you didn't know if you would want to hear it, after everything that had unfolded between you two.

"just say it, megumi." you blurt out, thinking there was no point in keeping things unsaid. you were annoyed with the way he would turn back and forth between you and the road.

he's not certain if he's glad to hear you say his full name, at least you're sober—but he hates the fact that you don't say megumi like you say gumi.

"i still love you, y/n." megumi mumbles.

you look at him, your eyes immediately noticing his staring at you before you even turned your head. you get up from the bench, unable to make sense of what he just said: apologies quickly leave your mouth and you're power walking away.

MEGUMI , who trails behind you, asking you to wait—he had your heels, and those were his shoes on your feet.

nothing changes until you arrive at your front door. you're completely sober thanks to the water megumi forced you to chug, and he’s behind you. you turn from the door to face him, and your stubbornness is suddenly dissipating.

your heels are still in his hands and his socks are completely torn.

"yeah, this is your fault."

you roll your eyes. "i did nothing."

megumi scoffs, looking down at the floor. he's not sure what to say to make this any less awkward—he's already spoken his mind.

"just come in, 'gumi. i've had enough of your complaining."

his eyes light up when you say the two syllable word. he takes his socks off in milliseconds, leaving your heels outside and letting himself be pulled by the sleeve into your apartment.

MEGUMI , who wakes up in your bed with his arm around the small of your back, keeping you close to him—sunlight is spilling in through the gaps of your curtains. it’s shining on his chest and subsequently, you: your head is laid on his bare chest, your legs resting on top of his. your breath is warm against his skin, your left arm hugging him tight around the waist.

your breathing is calm and slow, but it comes to a brief stop when you wake up soon after him. you yawn, head throbbing, but it doesn't stop you from looking up at fushiguro—who's been staring at you for awhile.

"we might as well just get back together."

megumi thought you were kidding, after you had just run away from him after his confession the night before: but you were everything but a joker.

he runs his fingers through your hair, before sighing softly.

"that's not a bad idea."

his fingers playing with your hair was lulling you back to sleep, along with the warmth of skin to skin contact and a voice that seemed as smooth as velvet. there wasn't much time before your headache and him combined knocked you out.

". . . i love you, 'gumi.” is all you manage to say before closing your eyes, allowing fushiguro to savour the words in private as you slept soundly.

he was thankful that you were exhausted—the red on his cheeks was much too embarrassing to be seen.

201023 — hello … new layout what do u guys think ? (　ﾟдﾟ)

[catiuskaa]

My Atlantis [don’t go]

inspired by the songs “atlantis” by Seafret and “can I call you tonight?” by Dayglow.

because the combination chan + second chance + angsty prompts AND my recent ability to fall asleep only past 3am triggered something I didn't know I had in me, lol (I swear I am ok LMAOO)

word count: 3.9k

angst, second chance, good ending.

No matter how many times he had asked himself the past month, he never could come up with a reason for it.

“Chan, you ok?” Seungmin inquired, popping his head through the door. The eldest snapped out of his zoned-out state and smiled, starting to tease the younger in a sing-song voice.

“Aw, Seungminnie, you’re so cute!”

Since the comeback, the members had all been busy, and it was known by the other seven that despite the lack of sleep and rest, the many concerts and shows. If there was one of them that would never say anything about how fucked up he felt, it was Chan.

Chan wouldn’t complain about anything. He’d rather stay hidden, quiet, hoping to merge with the furniture in his room so he wouldn’t feel so tired anymore.

It wasn’t new for the others, and Chris always felt a speck of guilt trail up his spine when any of them came by his room, only to find him sunken in his computer, his headphones blasting music so loudly that there was no hope of calling for the Australian unless you poked him —or in Minho’s case, throwing anything remotely close to the target, like his slipper, usually passed the level— Chan would go into off mode.

What they didn’t know, however, is why. Because usually, he was just tired, but nowadays, there is another reason.

He often trailed off conversations, zoning out. He had always been like that, often related to his insomnia.

Only one member knew the existence of the other new reason.

You.

“Hey, I made brownies!” Felix shined, entering his fellow bandmate’s room.

Lix watched Chan munch on his baked goods for what felt like a lifetime.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, the corners of his mouth full of crumbs, like his bed.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Chan tsked, smiling weakly. He had fallen for it. “Never fucking mind. Can I get a hug?”

Felix held back his tears, approaching the elder in a tight embrace. Chan’s strong facade crumbled.

“You should go see her, Chan. I don’t care what you have to say about it, but whatever happened is breaking you apart. It’s been so long, anyways.”

Chan laughed, even though he sighed slightly heavier than usual, with a teary grin on his features.

“I still fucked up, mate, whether it’s one week or one year. I fucked up bad.” He stopped and swallowed dry, quickly brushing away the tears that threatened to fall. “I can’t just show up at her place.”

The younger brushed away a stray tear that ran down his cheek. “You either go there or let it eat you from the inside,” Felix spoke carefully. “And I won’t give you the second choice. If you don’t go with her, I’ll make the call. That is your choice.”

Even if he found himself walking to your apartment, unconsciously, he still couldn’t give an answer to the question that kept bugging his mind.

He listened to the sound the birds made despite it being so late. He moved slowly, almost wandering, until the door to your home surprised him. He felt a shiver run up and down his spine. You weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

God, he was so scared. What was he doing?

He cursed under his breath, cussing himself out, his stupidness, his acts. He started crying without realising.

What else, if not him being an idiot, would explain why he had lost you?

“Chris?”

No one except you said his name in a way that felt so different, so special.

“…Is everything ok?”

He turned around to face you. He felt the tears run down his cheeks, ending on his lips, tasting the salty drops.

“Darling…” He mentioned, his tone anxious, his breathing erratic.

He woke up in a cold sweat. Again, the dream kept repeating, with that detail that always hurt him like the first time. He couldn’t approach you, or he’d wake up, yet he still tried, walking towards you just to open his eyes to face his room’s ceiling.

That was why he couldn’t sleep.

He felt like he deserved it, so he didn’t say anything and decided to put up a fake smile, hoping that one day he’d wake up, either having hugged you or not having that same dream again.

He fell again for you, more profound than he thought possible, and he knew it because just the thought of you pulling him into an embrace felt even better than all the kisses you two had shared. And then it hit him, the answer to his question, one he suddenly despised more than anything.

Why did he let you go?

At first, it was an easy answer. He couldn’t save you from himself, from what surrounded him. He could never take back the things he had said that dreadful night a month ago, when he had lied to you just because he was afraid, afraid of love, terrified of the feelings he had developed for you, and so, so scared that you would get hurt because of him. It wasn’t fair for you, even if he meant entirely the opposite and had just realised how deeply he had fallen for you.

Because in a twist of events, his mind, his days, his songs, everything screamed your name, like a chant you wouldn’t- you couldn’t forget.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he cried, clinging to his pillow.

Changbin stared wide-eyed at Felix, both able to hear what was happening behind the door between them.

“You call her, or do I?” Bin sighed.

Felix’s eyes almost snapped out of place.

“Since when do you-?”

“C’mon, everyone here knows. He’s so fucking obvious, sighing all day long. It’s going to make him age faster.” Changbin somewhat mocked in a solemn tone. “So?” He shook his phone sideways.

“S’fine. I’m on it.”

Changbin then entered the room, startling Chan, who, after seeing the troublesome look in his friend’s eyes, quickly approached him, leaning on the crook of his neck. The rapper patted his back.

“Why does it ache so much?” Chan questioned weakly, feeling stupid. “I know the fucking dream by heart. How often do I have to see it again until it doesn’t hurt?”

“Because you care, Chan. It’ll hurt.”

“For how long?” He sounded in so much pain.

At this, Changbin sighed sadly.

“As long as you love her.”

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

When Chris went to open the door days later, he expected anyone behind it. Maybe it was Felix with more brownies, perhaps Changbin wanted to force him out of bed to go to the gym, or Jeongin needed his computer password again.

What he didn’t expect, however, was your figure on the other side, looking even prettier than any of the dreams he had about you.

You took a deep breath, but before you could say anything, he slammed the door, closing it. You could hear him leaning on it, sliding to the floor.

“Fuck, angel,” you cursed.

Angel. The nickname felt like a punch in the face, but he couldn’t help but want another one.

Instead of leaving, you leaned on the door, technically back to back if it weren’t for the wooden structure.

“Felix called me,” you started carefully, head directed towards the door. “Wanna talk about why? He didn’t say.”

Chan remained silent, feeling troubled because, on one side, seeing you could be his downfall, still fuck did he want to let go so much.

But he couldn’t. He had said it himself, year after year, hearing it too many times so that he had it tattoed on his mind. Why were you still behind that door?

Your sad laugh broke him into even more pieces.

“I fell in love, Chan,” you started, staring at the ceiling. “I fell in love with a man so selfless who would die for his loved ones, a man so integrally beautiful that he had no reason to hide his scars because even his battles were gorgeous.” You quickly rubbed your eyes, feeling them itchy as you held back tears. “And I didn’t do it knowing that it would be hard. I just...”

The corridor remained silent as much as the door stayed locked, the man behind it feeling like a small child who needed a big hug.

You gasped for air, your chest tightening, for your need to crumble, cry, and fall.

“Even if I didn’t know back then the crazy fans I’d have to face, or any of Dispatch’s cameramen, I…” Your tearful smile fainted a bit, your features as serious as you were about your feelings.

“I promised myself that if I was right, and you loved me as much as I know I love you, I’d fight for you.”

You unknowingly cried with him, knowing that no one, not even him, could save you from falling as intensely as possible and even more.

He had tried to protect you, save you, keeping you at a safe distance because he didn’t want to hurt you, but God, did it hurt being away from you. He was missing you, even when you were right by his side.

“I believe I did my fucking best, angel. I know you have feelings that make you think you’re the one to blame for what happened, and that makes you just want to give up, and I get it, Chan. That’s not your fault. But when I got hurt because of the accident, it wasn’t your fault either,” you sniffed, looking at the bandage that still covered your forearm, the ankle support you were wearing also crossed your mind.

“Why… why don’t you let me love you?”

You waited patiently, turning so silently that you could swear you heard his unsteady breathing.

“…you said it.”

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard his voice toned down as if he was hiding his face in between his legs.

“I said it wasn’t easy, angel, but that doesn’t mean that I am not willing to try. Don’t think for a second that means I’m giving up on you.”

You sighed, looking at the cloudy day through the window before you.

“Even knowing what I know now, I’d do it again, my angel.”

The silence threatened to break your heart, but you chose to keep fighting against it. You weren’t going to give up. Not yet.

You could still fight for him. Yeah. You could.

“I’m going to leave my sweater here.” You mentioned in a low tone of voice, your features showed calm before the storm. “After I leave, I’ll call and ask for it, and you’ll say that you can stop by my place tomorrow.”

He looked behind him as if he could see through the door. A small and sad smile was planted on his features as he couldn’t help but think your ideas were still as cute as he remembered them. You rose from the door with a grunt, your eyes red and teary, glued to the floor.

“You were always worth every fucking ounce of my effort, Chris, don’t you ever forget that.” 

In a sudden motion, you turned to face the door, startling him when you aggressively grabbed the doorknob, making it tremble, even though you never opened it.

“If… if you choose to just keep the sweater and call it a day,” you gasped, tears running down your cheeks silently. “I need you to know that I never believed what you said that night and… that I love you, angel.”

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

That night. The night.

The night where he had fucked up so badly.

His mind was a fucking mess, thoughts of you reeling in every minute. Your voice through the door, through the phone when you called asking for your oversized sweater —the same one he was wearing at the moment—.

The memory replayed itself, like how those we want to forget but keep haunting you, coming back.

A month ago, he had gotten a call from the hospital and had 100% freaked out. You mentioned you were fine, that it had just been an accident, but the man decided to rush to you regardless.

“Chris?” You noticed him tense up when you saw him enter your hospital room, his expression clouded with worry.

“Darling, what...? W-what happened?” His lips trembled, eyes wandering to the cast on your left leg and the bandage that trailed your right forearm.

“You should’ve seen the others,” you teased but sighed. “I need you to sit and calm down for a second, love,” you started.

The nickname made him hold back shivers because deep down he knew that if you didn’t call him ‘angel’ it was because something was wrong. He sat on the closest chair he could pick, moving it as if it weighed nothing, and turned to face you as fast as he could.

“I was surrounded by some sasaengs and cameramen. I’ve been for the past week. I never mentioned it to you because there’s no damn way you can do anything about it, and I don’t want to get between you and your job. It’s not my world, and besides, I can tolerate pictures or getting recognized, but, this time...” You took his hand into yours, his glare dull and worried, but you weren’t planning to lie to him after this, so you continued. “The cameramen surrounded me, and that attracted a group of girls. One of them threw coffee at me. Others felt brave enough to start screaming at me, explaining why my relationship was fake and that Chan, well, you, didn’t really love me.” You let out a snicker, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes.

Chris’ mind was working at full speed, immediately blaming himself for not knowing, for not noticing, for not doing anything else rather than what the company told him to do when netizens found out about your existence.

Deny, deny and deny. He lied his way through, but as the events were showing, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

He wasn’t enough.

You stroked his face lightly, waking him up.

“I’m okay, angel. I just happened to trip and fall in the wrong place and at the wrong time, and they didn’t care too much about me.” You smiled, sparing him the tale about how the girls started hitting you and throwing stuff at you, the cameramen stepping on you, either accidentally or on purpose. Chan’s eyes got teary when your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

You were in pain, in a hospital, just because of him? That felt… wrong. He loved you, so, so much. He needed to protect you, not just ignore the problem until it solved itself, even if he never knew what was happening in the first place. Guilt started spreading inside him, his chest tightening and his breathing speeding up in anxiety.

And that’s when he started thinking about the alleged master key that would end up being his fatal flaw.

That same night the doctors allowed you to go back home and told you to be careful and to take care of yourself. Chan had helped you, letting you use him for extra support on your way up to your apartment.

You melted on the sofa once you arrived, but you felt it in the tension that kept buzzing around you and your restless lover. You hesitated for a moment, but you could notice something was bugging him.

“Chan?”

He stopped in his tracks, but weirdly, he never turned to face you.

“…Is everything ok?”

You saw his posture tensing, turning to something bewilderingly defensive.

“No. Nothing is.” He breathed slowly, his insides trembling, his heart screaming in his head, telling him to stop talking.

You pouted, confused. “What are you-?”

“Can’t you see it?” His tone was aggressive.

Shut up.

“This isn’t going to work.” His posture was uneasy, he still didn’t- couldn’t look at you.

Shut up.

“Whatever we had isn’t worth this shit.”

God, Christopher, shut the fuck up.

Your lips trembled. ‘Whatever we had’? Shit. You felt sore, and you still smelled the coffee that girl had thrown at you. No. It wasn’t possible.

“I don’t believe you.”

Chan’s chest ached.

“Well, this is what’s happening. Believe it or not.” He turned restless again, still not daring to look at you, picking up the few things he had left in your apartment the past months. His hands trembled, his facade struggling to remain believable.

“Chan, wait.”

He quivered.

“Let’s talk about this. What’s wrong?”

“Everything is!”

“There’s no reason for us to end.”

He scoffed, his throat almost hurting.

“You’re clearly blind.”

“Did I do something wrong? We were fine yesterday. We’re ok, we-”

His hand gripped the doorknob as if it was going to wake him up from this nightmare. But this was real life, and he had to do it. For you.

Because that made sense.

What a fucking idiot.

“We’re far from ok.”

“Chan, please-“

“Nothing you can say will make me stay.” He said almost in a whisper, afraid that his voice would crack if he spoke too loudly.

Despite the advice you had received from the doctors, you lightly skipped your way to him, placing a hand on his forearm, your lips close to his ears. His breath hitched, and even if it was because that small contact was breaking him to pieces, you weren’t going to know anytime soon.

He had to leave now. Before the regret turned stronger.

“Chan.” You swallowed hard, your heart shattering to pieces. “If I can’t make you stay… just know I won’t leave. You know where I’ll be.” You stared at your hand as you slowly let go of him. You wanted to hug him, beg him to stay so bad. You wished to wake up from this nightmare soon.

Instead, you did what you thought was right.

“You have the choice, angel. Just… don’t be too late.”

God, he regretted every single part of it.

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

“Chan, what the fuck.”

Felix felt that sort of anger you could only achieve when being an empath. The ability to feel and comprehend his mate’s feelings allowed him to feel twice the anger when he wouldn’t just choose what was right from what was slightly easier.

“Hey, we said no judgement.” He sniffed, half of his face buried below the neck of your sweater.

It smelled like you.

Felix wanted to hit him. In the face. With a brick. Instead, he contented himself with one of Chris’ pillows.

“You.” hit “are.” hit “so.” hit “stupid!”

“Well, that shit ain’t new.” He mumbled, snatching the pillow away and laying on it.

“You are unbearable.” Lix hissed, much like a kitten would. “Go back to her once and for all, for fuck’s sake. I’m sure she’s been waiting for you all day.”

“I can’t.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I’m not ready to fight it.”

“I don’t think you have a chance, at this point.”

“It’s whatever, Lix.”

“SHE- Ugh.” The rage the blonde was feeling felt surreal, his hands aggressively pulling his hair. “She came here to give you an ultimatum, Chan! You absolute buffoon, she’ll think you don’t love her!”

“That’s not-!”

“Then why are you not leaving?!”

“Maybe that’s what’s best for her?!”

“Oh, so now it’s about her?!”

“IT’S ALWAYS BEEN!”

“SO LET HER CHOOSE!”

Silence filled up the room.

“Let her choose if she wants you or not.”

“And let her end up injured again?”

Felix took a deep breath, trying to calm down —and failing—.

“We both know that those kinds of accidents are not that likely to happen.”

“But it did-“

“Shut up.” Felix’s stare could kill any living being within a 3-meter radius. “The 3-year dating ban is over. You can talk to the fans and to JYP about this shit.”

“Still-“

“Nuh-uh. You can make it work, this ain’t some Romeo and Juliet impossible love bullshit or whatever the fuck you’re thinking.” Felix got closer to Chan, his stance still confrontational.

“Never, ever use the ‘I’m doing it for her’ excuse again. Life isn’t some fucked up song where you let go people because you love them, Chris.”

Before he stormed out of the elder’s room, he threw clean clothes at him.

“Get your shit together, go get her, and I’ll think about making more brownies for you, you absolute fucking dummy.”

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

The door in front of him looked exactly the same as how he had left it. The bell sounded the same.

But you, you looked different.

Maybe it was because he felt so touch-starved that you kept glowing around him. You looked ethereal, so much that he was scared to touch you, scared that he’d wake up in his bed again.

“Does this mean you’re keeping it?”

He stared down. He was still wearing your sweater.

You smiled slightly. “It looks better on you anyways.”

He entered your apartment, and you stood behind him.

“Is there anything you’d like to say before?”

He turned around at you, your heart racing.

“Before what?”

“Before I choose to do something else instead of talking things first,” you mentioned, your gaze moving from his eyes and his lips.

He gulped, seeing you getting closer and closer.

“I…”

You took his arms and settled them on your waist, locking yours behind his neck.

“If we’re going to argue, we’re going to do it like this,” you said in a whisper. The light smell of his cologne surrounded you faster than you expected, and you loved it.

His eyes grew big in surprise. Quickly, his hands tightened his grip on your waist, moving them to your face in a sudden action.

“You’re… here.”

The weak tone he used made your insides churn.

“Chan…”

“Mmhm?”

Your hands travelled to his chest, slightly creating distance.

“Please stop before I kiss you,” you whispered. “If I do, I don’t think I could-“

He gave you a small peck, interrupting you. He giggled softly as your expression turned into a surprised one.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling you.

“You look so pretty right now.”

You gasped, hearing his laugh.

“Don’t change the subject, mister!”

You both stood there, hugging each other, feeling like the nightmare was finally over. But Chan still had something to do.

“You don’t deserve what I put you through.”

Your hands caressed his back.

“That’s the excuse?”

“In my defence…”

“I’m listening.”

Chan dived even deeper in the crook of your neck, feeling content just by being in your arms.

“I forgot the excuse. I’m just sorry. I can’t even say it without feeling like a dick. I know it doesn’t make up for what I said or did. I couldn’t even look at you that day because I just wanted to stay with you, but I felt so bad. I love you so much I can’t stand it. I thought that maybe if I left… maybe I could save you.” His embrace tightened.

God, he missed you so much.

“I wasn't sure how much longer I could have taken this..." he said in a huff.

“I know I couldn’t, and your stupid ass wouldn’t do anything about it.”

He took your face in between his hands, his eyes red.

“I told you there was no reason for us to end, dipshit.” You whispered, laughing as you kept on crying, your hands travelling up to his. “We’ll make it work.”

He stroked your hair with one hand, sighing.

“I’m so happy you’re here.”

You couldn’t help but let out a smile, giving him another peck.

“…of course I’m here, idiot. I never left.”

~Kats, who you’ll most likely never see reading angst bc she’s a weak loser, yet here she is, stopping mid-writing cause she couldn’t see past her tears 🕳️👩‍🦯

ps: i wanted to mention @writer-in-the-dark-prompts bc i used some prompts from them and i think it’s a really cool blog!

[munsonsduchess]

The God (and goddess) of Hellfire

summary: at a high school dance dustin learns some shocking news about you and eddie w/c: 2,049 warnings: language, eddie's dirty mind, mentions of the readers body (breasts) a/n: yeah so i was hoping to get something else entirely out this week but then my co author came home and also i read class ring by @eddie-van-munson which now lives rent free in my head and i had to try my hand at wife!reader. Not beta'd once again this is nothing but my own meandering thoughts and if you notice a typo or a mistake no you didn't.

(moodboard by me)

It was the first big high school dance the freshman were able to attend and both Eddie and Steve had insisted on singing up as chaperones. Well Steve had done so first of all and Eddie refused to let Steve go alone and "hog all the glory" though what glory he was talking about was anyone's guess. Still true to his word Eddie had marched down to the front office and demanded that his name be put on the chaperone sheet for the dance after Steve's, which is when you'd gotten the call to ask if you would come and chaperone Eddie chaperoning the kids. Something about a spiked punch incident in your junior year neither you nor Eddie claimed to have any knowledge of but you'd agreed anyway since if Eddie was dead set on chaperoning it wasn't like you had any plans.

You'd dug out Eddie's one good suit from the back of your shared closet and your best dress along with it before making a special trip to the dry cleaners in the newly rebuilt Starcourt Mall. It would be pricey to have your things dry cleaned but for an occasion like this you didn't mind dipping into your savings, Eddie always looked so handsome in his suit and the usual mix of weed, aftershave and cigarette smoke wasn't exactly the perfect combination for a high school dance. At least not the first one for Eddie's little Hellfire proteges. 

The school gym had been decked out in whatever theme the dance committee had chosen, as near as you could guess it was 'under the sea' but you couldn't be too sure. You'd been given punch bowl duties apparently to keep it safe from anyone with 'nefarious intent' according to Principal Higgens with a pointed look at you and Eddie. Eddie just grinned and slipped his silver flask back into your purse as discreetly as he could manage. It wasn't altogether boring being at the punch table, you had a good vantage point of the dancefloor and it was funny watching Eddie and Steve following each other around the dancefloor and bickering like an old married couple. 

"It's nice to see you back in Hawkins High" a voice said next to you making you jump a little, you'd been so lost in your own little world you hadn't noticed your former english teacher Mr Shields making his way over to you,

"It's an important night," you replied with a smile, "Punch? I promise nothing happened to it" 

"It's not that I'm doubting you but I seem to recall an incident with a punch bowl in your junior year involving you and Mr Munson" 

"Everyone keeps mentioning that. I have no idea what they're talking about" 

You knew exactly what they were talking about. You'd distracted the poor wallflower behind the punch bowl and Eddie had emptied his flask full of Rum he'd siphoned from his uncle into the bowl. You'd both denied it but of course you'd both ended up in detention because the teachers weren't stupid. 

"Well I must say married life certainly seems to suit you" Mr Shields continued, "I admit that when I heard about you and Mr Munson tying the knot so quickly I was doubtful but you seem to be flourishing" 

"YOU AND EDDIE ARE MARRIED?" the sound of Dustin Henderson yelling shook you, you hadn't noticed the smaller boy who was currently standing in front of you his mouth hanging open, 

"Dustin close your mouth you'll catch flies" you sighed pushing your hair out of your face, "and what are you yelling about? Of course Eddie and I are married" 

"Since when?" 

You looked at Dustin for a moment trying to figure out what sort of joke or prank this was. Had Eddie put him up to this? Or was it Steve? 

"Are you serious right now? Since two years ago when I graduated, you know that" 

"No I didn't!" 

"Dustin I wear a wedding ring!" you showed the boy your left hand and the ring that adorned your fourth finger, "you've seen it before" 

"I thought it was a class ring! Or one of Eddie's!" 

As if summoned by mention of his name alone Eddie appeared beside Dustin looking confused, he looked between the boy and you furrowing his brow, 

"What's with all the yelling over here?" 

"YOU DIDN'T TELL ME YOU WERE MARRIED!" Dustin thrust an accusing finger in Eddie's face and scowled at him. Eddie's confusion seemed to mirror your own and you sighed, this was going to be a long night. 

➽───────────────❥

The dance had ended and now there you all were sitting in a diner across town. You, Eddie, the Hellfire kids and Steve Harrington who was giving some of the kids a ride home so had tagged along to the diner, 

"So let me get this straight, not one of you little idiots noticed that my girl wears a wedding ring?" Eddie asked, "you see her every week for hellfire!"

"Yeah but we thought it was one of your rings" Mike said as he looked around at his friends for support, "you've got a lot" 

"It's a small gold ring, Eddie's are huge and silver" you countered, "not the same thing boys" 

"We thought you were just dating!" Lucas interjected, "we didn't know we swear!" 

"Eddie your children are fucking stupid" you sighed, you'd had such faith in these kids. Well in Dustin, the jury was still out on Wheeler and Sinclair. 

A chorus of objections went up around the table and was instantly silenced by Eddie who then looked at Steve perhaps for help or to share his disbelief, 

"Don't look at me man, I remember you two getting hitched after graduation. Everyone was talking about it" 

"How did it happen?" Dustin asked, "how did you two get married?" 

"I mean we went down to the County Hall, stood in front of a judge, he said some shit, we signed some shit, we exchanged rings, we sealed the deal" Eddie said, "boy did we seal the deal" 

"Enough you perv" you swatted him on the arm and rolled your eyes, Eddie could be incorrigible when he got worked up.

"That's not what I meant" Dustin argued, seeming to miss Eddie's innuendo, "like how did you get together? How did you decide you wanted to get married?" 

"Well if you ask Eds it was the summer we turned twelve and my tits came in" you said simply taking a sip of the soda the waitress placed in front of you, "you still have dreams about that little white two piece dontcha Eddie?" you teased, 

"God do I" he agreed, "honestly you've never seen anything like it, that summer was hot as shit and we spent all day in that goddamn pool till they kicked us out. Your mom had gotten that little two piece in JC Fuckin' Pennys and I swear to god I had a boner all summer" 

"Ew, gross" 

"Come on man I'm trying to eat here" 

"That's not even possible" 

"I'm not being literal you idiots" Eddie scowled, "anyway, yeah you're right your tits had just come in and I swear to god it was like seeing heaven for the first time. I had to do a double take the first time I saw ya cause there was no way in hell you could be the same chick I grew up with" 

"That was the summer eddie realised his best friend was actually a girl" you laughed, "not just some dorky thing that followed him everywhere" 

"You weren't dorky" 

"Baby I was the definition of dorky" 

"Anyway!" it was Eddie's turn to roll his eyes, and to steal a french fry off your plate, "the sight of you in that little swimsuit is burned into my brain and has kept me company through some very lonely nights" 

"Not to mention extended bathroom breaks and extra long showers" you added, "walls in trailers are thin babe, I hear everything" 

Steve pushed his plate away from him and frowned at you both. This is why you guys didn't hang out more, you were as bad as each other, 

"We didn't get together till freshman year of highschool though" 

"Yeah till my brand new bookbag suddenly came apart at the seams and all my books spilled everywhere. Weird how that happened right when you wanted to ask me out" you smirked at Eddie who at least had the good sense to blush, 

"I'm taking that to my grave" 

"Uh huh sure" 

The Hellfire boys apparently couldn't get enough and were begging Eddie to continue despite his embarrassment at how he'd asked you out,

"It was the same dance you little shits went to tonight. I was shitting myself every time Mrs Shelly came around yelling at us to make room for jesus" 

You and Steve shuddered collectively at the memory of the old Geometry teacher, more like a battle axe than anything else. She terrified everyone she ever crossed paths with. 

"That woman still gives me nightmares" you said trying to recover from the trauma that class had inflicted on you, 

"It's ok baby, she can't hurt you anymore. The old witch is dead and buried" 

"But what about when you guys got married? You said it happened after you graduated two years ago, that leaves a lot of time in between" Dustin interrupted, clearly impatient to get to the end of this story,

"Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on" Eddie said dismissively, "we were hanging out in my place and I floated the idea" 

"You say that like it happened so casually. If I remember right you were high as balls and telling me how much you loved me and wanted to be with me forever" 

"Semantics" Eddie waved a hand, "anyway, like I said earlier we went down to the Courthouse and the Judge squared it all away"

"We got my dress and your suit at the thrift store at the same time" you laughed, "the guy behind the counter didn't believe us when we said we wanted to get married in these clothes" 

"Wait, that's your wedding dress?" Mike asked looking at your yellow dress, it was something that might have been in style a decade ago with it's flared sleeves and shorter length just about reaching the middle of your thighs,

"Yeah and Eddie's suit. He's only got one good one" you nodded, "so yeah, that's the whole story. Do you feel better now?" 

Dustin nodded enthusiastically with Mike and Lucas following his lead. Steve meanwhile stared forlornly at his hamburger. Before you could make a  comment about his actions the bell above the door in the diner chimed and a rowdy bunch entered, 

"We found you, Freak!" Jason Carver and his group of acolytes stormed towards your table and all at once the cheerful mood disappeared, "what it's not enough that you corrupted your own freak friends into selling their souls for your weird fucking cult, you have to do with these innocent kids as well? I expected better of you Sinclair" 

"Dude just go, you're not gonna like where this ends" Steve stood up from the booth and faced off against Jason, 

"What are you gonna do huh Harrington? You're not King anymore" Jason squared off against the older boy, 

"You heard him, you won't like how it ends" you backed Steve up with a dangerous lilt to your voice, you were having a good time and you didn't need this overblown Ken Doll to harsh your vibe,

"Ohh the Freak's girlfriend I'm so scared" Jason and his lackeys laughed, "why don't you ditch him honey? I bet I could make you scream better than he could" 

Something inside you snapped. You'd had enough of Jason Carver and guys like him, you'd dealt with them your whole life and tonight you were taking a stand, 

"See I have a hard time believing that. Cause you got one crucial fact wrong" you slid out of the booth and put yourself between Jason and Steve with a smile on your face,

"I'm not his girlfriend" and with that you punched Jason as hard in the face as you could watching as he crumbled from the unexpected contact,

"That's my wife!"

Tagging some folks who might be interested: @hellfireeddiemunson @pillow-titties @jobean12-blog @eddiesmutson @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @summerofsnowflakes @thisishellfire

[1moreff-creator]

DRDT - Milgram AU: T1 "Voice Reveal" Lines

Hey there! Back at it with this AU. I figured if I'm going to commit to the bit, I might as well commit fully. At the start of every Trial, Milgram gives a sneak peak at some of the lines which will appear in the VDs, combined with "glitchy" lines which relate to their murder. So I'm doing that too! Keep in mind this is not professional in the slightest, so exact wording might change between now and when I actually post the VDs. Especially since it's been a while since I rewatched DRDT so the wording could feel a bit off. Anyways, here we go!

Implied DRDT spoilers and heavy themes. Again not affiliated with either of the series

Btw I'm using crossed out text for aesthetics but there will be a transcript at the bottom if you have trouble reading that.

01- "Levi Fontana, a pleasure"

"Yes, I am a murderer"

"I can't bring myself to pretend to be sorry for what I did"

"I suppose I should watch the other prisoners to learn how normal murderers should handle themselves"

...

I know you didn't want this, but it had to be done

02- "Arturo Giles"

"Ugh. Do I really have to be judged by someone this ugly?"

"I'll have you know, I've never murdered anyone"

[Whispering] "I mean, there is... no, no, that wasn't my fault"

...

How was I meant to know?! Even if she's dead because of what I did, it's not my fault!

03- "My name is David Chiem"

"It seems there's been a mistake. But don't worry! I won't hold it against you"

"Mistakes can be corrected. It's not difficult to change, as long as you're willing to!"

"I try to be as positive as I can, since I know there's a lot of people that don't get the privilege"

...

AGH! CAN YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT, YOU PIECE OF HUMAN GARBAGE?!

04- "Yo! Whit Young, nice to meet you!

"Are you really sure everyone here is a murderer?"

"That's wack"

"I don't remember doing anything suspicious! Yesterday was normal, the day before that was normal, the day before that... the day before that..."

...

My mom's really amazing! I love her a lot. I would do anything for her

05- "Tch. Ace Markey"

"You wanna fight?! Wait, fuck, you probably have weapons, don't you?! Shit, don't get any closer!"

"You think I'm a murderer?! Horseshit!"

"Get off your fucking high horse!"

...

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit shit shit, FUCK!

06- "Uhm... Nico... Hakobyan"

"I'm- I'm really sorry!"

"You're pretty weird"

"Ah! I'm sorry! Don't get mad at me!"

...

Why should I own up for the mistakes that someone else made?!

07- "J Moreno"

"What do you people really want? Ransom money? There's no way you're doing this just because you want to 'judge our sins' or whatever bullshit you're saying"

"Don't make me laugh. Find evidence I killed anyone, and then we can talk about murder"

"Do you really think you're going to understand everything I've been through, just with a silly little song? How arrogant are you?!"

...

What happened to her was nothing short of a tragedy. Sorry, but I will make no further comment

08- "Mmmm... Rose Lacroix"

"zzzzz"

"Ah, yeah. I killed someone"

"This really isn't that bad. At least I can paint here"

...

I wonder if I can be happy now

09- "H-Hu Jing"

"I know what I did was unforgivable..."

"I really am selfish... I'm scared of receiving the punishment I deserve"

"Please Forgive me!"

...

Wake up! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!

10- "My name is Veronika Grebenshchikova!"

"If you don't mind, can you choose not to Forgive me?"

"Death sounds boring. I'd rather stay alive if you don't mind!"

"To Forgive what I did... it would be denying everything I believe about my life..."

...

[Cackling laughter, which trails off with a wheeze] I really am a monster...

11- "Arei Naegishi!"

"Pfft! God, you're pathetic!"

"Why the hell are we even here? How could anyone be stupid enough to do anything but Forgive me?"

"Are you really that much of an idiot?!"

...

WHO'S THE WEAK ONE NOW, HUH?!

12- "Uhm... Eden Tobisa..."

"Even when things are looking down, we just have to try our best, and trust each other!"

"I... I never wanted anyone to die!"

"Es... why are you doing this?"

...

Wh- What have you done?!

13- "Min Jeung"

"This is ludicrous. How are we meant to expect a fair judgement when your 'justice' is determind by one person's whims and biases?"

"When an institution is non-functional, it is highly illogical to indiscriminately tear it down. Improving the basis already in place is by far the most constructive way to conduct progress"

"There is no country in the world where I would be judged a murderer. To say one single prison has the authority to decide that I am is a flagrant display of vanity"

...

The condition has been met. There is no need for further intervention

14- "Alexander Matthews. Just call me Xander"

"Don't you see how broken this entire system is?! What makes you think you hold a monopoly over morality, huh?! What gives you the right to Forgive or Not Forgive?!"

"When something is rotten, you throw it away. It's the same with this twisted place!"

"...Warden?"

...

Ah... haha... I did it... You all can finally rest

15- "Charles Cuevas"

"I was hoping the Warden would be competent, at least, but clearly I was a fool to think that could ever be the case"

"Are you stupid?!"

"Warden... Es... I have a request"

...

Hgk...- Ack! ... Kch[sharp inhale]

16- "Teruko Tawaki"

"Are you okay?"

"You don't need to know anything about my crimes. I'm unforgivable. That's all you need, right?"

"If you can find a way to do it... Just kill me"

...

... [sigh] Why did I ever get my hopes up?

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

And there we go! Hope they weren't too ooc! Keep in mind different backstories could lead to slightly different personalities; this AU is canon-adjacent, not really canon-compliant. Levi's first trial is coming soon! Hope you enjoyed!

Huh? Secret message? Whatever are you talking about?

Here's the transcript of the glitchy lines:

01 - Levi: I know you didn't want this, but it had to be done

02 - Arturo: How was I meant to know?! Even if she's dead because of what I did, it's not my fault!

03 - David: AGH! CAN YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT, YOU PIECE OF HUMAN GARBAGE?!

04 - Whit: My mom's really amazing! I love her a lot. I would do anything for her

05 - Ace: Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit shit shit, FUCK!

06 - Nico: Why should I own up for the mistakes that someone else made?!

(Yes it's just the secret quote on their page sue me it's a cool line)

07 - J: What happened to her was nothing short of a tragedy. Sorry, but I will make no further comment

08 - Rose: I wonder if I can be happy now

09 - Hu: Wake up! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!

10 - Veronika: [Cackling laughter, which trails off with a wheeze] I really am a monster...

11 - Arei: WHO'S THE WEAK ONE NOW, HUH?!

12 - Eden: Wh- What have you done?!

13 - Min: The condition has been met. There is no need for further intervention

14 - Xander: Ah... haha... I did it... You all can finally rest...

15 - Charles: Hgk... Ack! ... Kch[sharp inhale]

16 - Teruko: ... [sigh] Why did I ever get my hopes up?

[ichorblossoms]

I WOULD LIKE TO ASK QUESTION ABOUT OCS IN FACT 🤲 how was meeting yarrow for the first time like for grimm? and reverse? i love them and how tender they grow together so dearly

HELLO THANK YOU FOR THE ASK AND THANK YOU IN GENERAL EHEHEHEEEE they are eating at my brain all the time <3

OKAY so a vague timeline of honeybee's three main parts is here BUT there is a (not actually secret) part 0 that is how they first meet. i want to include it in the story but i'm concerned telling a story like this

might get a little confusing for people so. we shall see

i DO have my reasons for wanting to tell it this way and also p0 is a single scene. but also i might combine it with p1 idk. it's a mess, i'm a mess

anyways at this point grimm is ~18 and still pretty freshly out of their whole "i was a bodyguard/scout for the people who destroyed everything i loved for several years because i fell in love [was manipulated by] the family's young heiress when i was vulnerable and also a child"* ordeal and now making a living for themself being an outlaw. it travels from town to town and takes on odd jobs, mostly recon stuff because it's very good at sneaking around. also having a robot dog designed to jam signals and camera feeds helps

*this is A Lot. i know it sounds edgy as fuck, but a consistent source of conflict in this universe is how people in power (those with a lot of money in this case) consistently fuck over everyone else and each other for the sake of more power/a perceived advantage/money and grimm is a victim of that to a more extreme degree than most

grimm takes a job that involves getting some sort of intel out of the offices of a medical clinic and gets caught halfway through. they can fight too, so they do get out, but not before sustaining a pretty bad injury to their jaw (originally this was going to be a gunshot, but after doing research i realize that hm sustaining a gunshot wound to the jaw usually requires reconstructive surgery that grimm would not have access to, so i think they were hit with something instead). on their way sneak-stumbling out, they happen across one of the interns in the stairwell, who sees them injured and bleeding and goes "stay right there i'll get something to help you!" because shit, why else are they working at a clinic if they aren't going to help people who are hurt

normally grimm wouldn't stay, fuck that, but it's dazed and possibly concussed, so it does. yarrow (who is about ~19) comes back with some bandages and painkillers, quickly does a quick patch job, and sends grimm off with a "i'm sorry this is all i can do" and grimm gets the fuck out of there

now yarrow isn't stupid, he knew that grimm wasn't supposed to be there, but if he can help, he will help, especially if someone's in pain. grimm wasn't anyone meaningful to them at that point, and i think that whole ordeal is something that occasionally crosses their mind in the next ~3 years before they cross paths again, but there weren't any severe consequences to their actions (if any, still dunno if they got caught) nor was their life really under threat, so it wasn't any more shocking than someone coming in to the clinic with a severe injury

ON the flip side though, grimm cannot stop thinking about this. it has encountered so little kindness in the previous ~6 years of its life that a total stranger helping them out is inconceivable. now, grimm will save its own hide first and foremost, so it doesn't stick around, but this whole incident leaves it with a sense of being indebted to yarrow, whose name they don't even know at that point. nothing it would go out of its way to act upon, but this "i owe my life to that stranger" thing it marvels at from time to time.

so, when the two cross paths ~3 years later in a different clinic in a different city, grimm feels compelled to at least get yarrow out of there before shit goes down; they've graduated to working riskier jobs with teams of outlaws instead of alone, so it's very much a "you saved my life, i'll save yours back and get you out of here and we can part ways for good" situation. or, that's what grimm tells itself :)

bonus pt0 grimm and yarrow designs hehe

[blog-name-idk]

Omg are you playing dense on purpose??

Clearly by “scene” I meant the entire Tae and Jennie scandal. Which is staged af. I couldn’t give a flying fuck about fictive Taehyung but this entire news is fake and it’s stupid ARMYS and BLONKS falling for it.

My mistake, I thought since it was an ask to me, it was an ask about something I had some sort of involvement in or control over. I heard about the pictures and then kind of forgot about it since whether they are in a relationship or not, or are pretending to be in a relationship or not, doesn't have any impact on my life.

Unless you mean me reblogging a hilarious ra-tata-mic joke? I personally thought it was really funny – I'll explain why it was a joke because everyone knows that jokes are 100x funnier when you have to explain them.

The inspiration: Jennie and Taehyung creepshots that seem to have everyone up in arms for whatever reason.

The set up: Actually they would make a dope collab (actually other than like the thought being inspired by the "scandal," the post itself doesn't say anything about a relationship? Just that they would make a banger of a duet?)

The punchline: RA-TATA-MIC

So, what makes the punchline funny is that Blackpink is known for their "RATATATA" adlibs/vocals in songs. Citation: https://youtu.be/gQlMMD8auMs?t=162

And then there is the meme about Tata-mic face, which is an adorable expression he makes, named for its first real appearance in the wild. Citation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RawxiuLAOK0

So ra-tata-mic becomes a portmanteau (a word blending the sounds and combining the meanings of two others - citation: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/portmanteau), by combining RATATA with tata-mic using the "TATA" that is in both words.

Anyway, all of the SugArmyy compilation vids are fun watches, you should check them out! They might help you get your mind off the pictures. I hope you feel better about the situation soon, I'm sure BTS would want you to be happy rather than getting hung up on trivial things!

Also lowkey if BLONK is a derogatory term for BLINK that is hilarious and I kind of love it. RATATATA! I gotta start listening to them so I can be a BLONK.

[maridiayachtclub]

let's try documenting a big Satisfactory project!

so i have this facility called SPINE. it's a multi-function structure with a stupid (but cool) name. pics under the cut because they're big:

it's bad and it could stand to be renovated.

it was one of the first large facilities i built. it was conceived as a centrally located factory that would gather in resources from the surrounding area, use them to manufacture various fundamental parts like iron plates and screws and whatnot, and then funnel them outward to specialized factories. where possible, additional functions could be built within what felt at the time like a roomy interior, and the structure could be extended upward to make more factory space within.

in addition, it was built on legs, making space underneath for three purposes:

allowing tractors and other vehicles to pass through (at the time, i had an automated tractor running stuff back and forth between a few buildings, and anticipated having a fleet of little wheely friends going to and fro)

making space for ceiling-mounted conveyor belts that would not just move materials through the building but provide the means to deliver them up into the building's interior for processing

room for aminals to wander through :)

so, seeing as this was going to be the center of a general stream of many different products needed throughout my growing factory-city, it seemed analogous to a a spinal column. hence, SPINE, or rather, S.P.I.N.E. what do the letters stand for? i figured i'd think of an appropriate combination of words eventually, but i never did. the name nevertheless stuck

SPINE has been doing what i have asked of it for a while now. the inside chambers mostly look like this

anyway, as mentioned, this was made early on, and while i think the concept is sound, the implementation has ultimately proven insufficient. the space underneath ended up being too small for the variety of materials i require to move through, as well as all the necessary branches needed to move things back and forth between the transport space on the bottom and the factory spaces inside. here's what the underside looks like:

seriously it fuckin sucks down here bro

i can't just keep extending the conveyor lines further down from the ceiling; making enough space to move all these materials and move them up into the factory requires all sorts of stupid twisty turny conveyor belt tricks. the backside, where everything funnels in, is absolutely embarrassing. wizard-of-oz-man-behind-the-curtain bullshit. glasgow willy wonka experience-ass levels of fulfillment. slapdash mickey mouse duct tape effort. real "I didn't do my homework and now i gotta make up this presentation live in front of the class and they can see me sweating" energy embodied.

the horrid tangle running through SPINE is complicated by its output, set up so that it delivers things to my central storage barn. things need to leave the facility in a very specific way, like so:

this part, at least, works fine. this massive vein of conveyor belts is a bit ugly but it works very well. i put a lot of time into designing my central storage barn (there were spreadsheets involved) and it paid off. look at this shit, look at how neatly everything gets sorted into easily accessed bins

i love it. the power fantasy of living in an organized environment, realized here in digital form!

unfortunately the clean functionality of this building just draws into stark relief how bad SPINE is. even if I spruced up its exterior, fully finishing the walls and adding fripperies such as signage and doors and lights, its core functionality is insufficient for my needs. SPINE was conceptualized and built far in advance of my understanding of what i would actually need it to do and i can't stand it any longer! no more!

so, i'm planning to tear it all down and replace it with a bigger, better-organized SPINE. in addition to making it look nicer, it could actually be expandable without adding another strand into its already tangled guts. it would give me an opportunity to incorporate the functions of numerous smaller satellite facilities, cleaning up the surrounding landscape a bit and making room for other factories i know i will have to build in time. it would, potentially, allow me to incorporate a train station or two, so products could be picked up or delivered as needed... not something i need at this time, but even if i never do, having the capability of entertaining visiting trains is a worthy goal in itself.

anyway i haven't started on that yet. SPINE 2.0 is still in the planning stages, and i'm leaving on a trip in a day or so so i'm not gonna be able to start on this project in earnest for at least a week.

i might keep documenting the project here for funsies. i love Satisfactory; it's a perfect vehicle for one of my favorite things to do in a game: turning nothing into places. if you're in a video game and you see a bunch of hills and trees and rivers and piles of iron ore and other natural features, it doesn't really mean much on its own, but spend enough time there and you grow accustomed to it. you put together a mental map, figure out whatever routes you're going to be taking through it, learn how to navigate it quickly and efficiently, and soon that random bit of wilderness is a place. the rocks you have to navigate around and the rivers you have to jump over become familiar sights. and if it's a building kinda game, and you're populating this unsullied wilderness with the mortal profanity of civilization, that place is even more place-y than before. i very much like the places i have built in Satisfactory, so regardless of how this is received, it's fun to talk about it, get some of my internal thoughts on this project down in a format that can last. at least until tumblr shutters its doors and gets sold to some venture capitalist vultures in 2026

[strangechildproductions]

Ignore the bad spelling!!!! I drew these at work!! I don't have name for this Au but it's a weird combination of the royalty aus I've seen and BioShock and freaking Anastasia and what have I done!!!!

Anyway lore:

In this world some people are gifted a magical ability. They are called the gifted.

Freddy, Bonnie, Roxy, Sun and Moon are gifted.

Freddy has the ability to admit a calming arua within a thirty mile radius of himself

Bonnie can teleport himself, people and objects but what he's teleporting greatly depends on how much energy he has. He also has to be able to see it.

Roxy can run fast, and move quickly. Making her a hard target to hit.

Sun can tell when people are lying to him, and can even make people speak the truth when making physical contact. How ever he can only do this when it is daytime, or well lit

Moon can make people fall asleep but has to come into physical contact to do so. His abilities can only be done at night or in the dark. Under a full moon Moon can emit a pulse that puts anyone within fifty feet of him to sleep.

The crew:

Foxy is the captain of a ship that is primarily sea bound, but can also fly if he wanted it to.the ship is called the Daystar. Because calling the ship the daycare or the superstar sounded stupid to me

Freddy is the first mate, and is Foxy's right hand man

Bonnie would be first mate if he wasn't so unpredictable. Instead he is a scam artist and is often a distraction for the crew from the local authorities .

Chica is the chef of the crew. She often uses various kitchen ware as weapons since it's what she's more comfortable handling.

Roxy is the crews mechanic keeping the shop from falling apart as well as Foxy's robotic prosthetic from malfunctioning.

Sun tried to act as the crews navigator but often gets distracted. Moon will usually subtly alter their course to correct him without Sun noticing.

Moon is their stealth man. He gets in, gets the job done and leaves.

Plot ( if there is any)

Sun and Moon come from a kingdom where gifted are seen as cattle. Despite how rare they are. The big corporation of that particular kingdom buys gifted people and children and even kidnaps them off the street. What the corporation does with the gifted isn't hidden from the public, but the extent is not well known.

They essentially try to use the abilities of the gifted as a resource to make various products. Weapons, home goods, medicine, ECT.

Sun and Moon were sold by their mother when their gifts became known to her. The corporation was running tests on Sun to try and figure out how to use his abilities to make a lie detector for their law enforcement. He was still in the observation stage.

Moon had moved past the observation stage, as his gift was a tad simpler to figure out how to extract. They regularly drew blood from him which made him weak and frail when Foxy finally finds them.

Foxy discovered Sun and Moon while trying to bust Bonnie out of the corporation's labs. He took them with him. Due to the rarity of sleep magic this put a decent sized bounty on Foxy and his crew who up until this point had not obtained a sizable one. Despite this they managed to avoid capture for the next sixteen years. Raising Sun and Moon as his own.

The corporation ( unbeknownst to the Daystar crew) had been using Moon's blood to make a sleep aid that they sold worldwide. They called this sleep moondrops. It became the most powerful and popular sleep aid. The corporation had a relatively decent back supply of Moon's blood but were running dangerously low. So they raised the bounty on Moon.

With Moon's bounty ridiculously high Foxy worried for his boys'safety. He won't always be there to protect them after all. He heard through the grapevine of a noble lady who's trying marry off her brother's. Figuring Moon and Sun would be safest if connected to a noble family he talks Moon into faking nobility and agreeing to an arranged marriage with the nobleman.

DJ, though at first frustrated with his sisters meddling since he wasn't even next in line for head of the family, falls head over heels for Moon fast. Though he can't help but feel like something is off. Like Moon is hiding from something.

I might make a fanfiction I might idk!!! I got brain rot of it though so here take it!

[twotales]

Radar

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis

Characters: Rodney McKay, Radek Zelenka, (One line Elizabeth Weir)

Pairing: Rodney McKay & Radek Zelenka

Rating: G

Word Count: 741

Tags: Ficlet, Between Episodes, Developing Friendships, Lists

Summary: He was never on Rodney’s radar, just a face among many and really he had better things to do than remember the name of one bespectacled, scruffy-faced, wild-haired scientist.

Notes: I HC Rodney as a list guy, he doesn't write them down but he catalogs certain information that way.

Read On AO3

He was never on Rodney’s radar, just a face among many and really he had better things to do than remember the name of one bespectacled, scruffy-faced, wild-haired scientist. Because names didn’t inform you of anything. This is why Rodney typically thought about people in terms of what they could do, their focus, their professional traits, and their talents (if they had any.) And this scientist came with only one note preprogrammed onto his list, “Engineer."

Two weeks later he added, “turns research in early.”

Three months in and it was clear the man was not just an Engineer but a gifted engineer, and Rodney added “Eighty percent likely to get the machine to work." (Well, eighty-five if he was being completely honest.)

A few days before General O'Neill was scheduled to arrive Rodney found his blueprints while searching for a pen. He held one page up with a reverence he didn’t typically show to most things. Eyes running over the color-coded inner workings, the easy-to-follow pathways, and, oh god, perfectly legible labels. It was just so beautiful, so logical. It wouldn’t do to compliment the man on something he had found on accident, (not that he would anyway.) So he added, “logical,” to his list, put them back where he found them, and moved on.

But when they were lodged halfway inside an active stargate his list sprang to mind and he ran through it at lightspeed, combining them together and for once he wished he knew a scientist's name because a logical engineer who does things quickly and gets the machines to work eighty-nine percent of the time sounded like the perfect fit.

“Alright. Let me put Kavanagh, Grodin, and Simpson in a room; see what they come up with.”

“That's good. And the Czech, the Czech, um,” he snapped, “the Czech whose name I can never remember.”

“Doctor Zelenka?” She said and what kind of stupid name was that anyways? Of course, he never remembered something that ridiculous.

“That's him. We'll work it at our end.”

It turned out that Zlemka WAS the right person for the job (of course he was, it was Rodney’s idea after all) and he wasn’t surprised in the least to find the Czech on his back, elbow-deep in a puddle jumper once the ordeal was over and it looked like Major Sheppard would be fine.

“How long have you been at this?” Rodney held back a laugh as the man startled.

He glanced at Rodney warily before looking back at his work. “How long has it been since you were trapped in the Jumper?” His glasses slipped down his nose, “that is how long.”

Rodney tried not to smile because dammit that was the best answer he could have given. It made the most sense and is exactly what he would do. He watched the man tap another conduit then pick up a small journal and jot down a few notes. Rodney moved closer to him, peeking over to try and get a look.

“Is there anything you need from me, Dr. McKay?”

It was Rodney’s turn to startle as ice-blue eyes watched his reaction to his notebook, confusion marring his features.

“I need you to move over.”

The man's look of confusion increased. However, he complied, his face flashing in surprise as Rodney kneeled down, rolled up his sleeves, moved to his back, and slid in next to him.

He clapped his hands together, “Alright Zlinka, show me everything.”

His tone of voice as he said, “Zelenka,” bordered on insubordination but he sighed and held the journal out to him before pointing at the current pathway he was mapping. “I have discovered much.” He pushed his glasses up his nose as his voice bled into excitement, “everything in here can be controlled from back of the jumper.” A smile spread and Rodney added “dimple,” to his list. “I am creating a manual to prevent these things from happening.” He raised his brows, “It is a good idea, yes.”

Rodney flipped through his journal running his fingers over the diagrams, and god if he were a lesser man it would have stolen his breath away because the drawings, albeit currently crude, made such beautiful, logical sense, and although he knew Zelemka wasn’t actually asking a question, because duh, of course, it was a good idea, it’s exactly why he came up here, he still found himself smiling and saying.

“Yes, it is.”

[herrlindemann]

Metal Hammer N°8 - 1997

This time there's peer scolding from two bands who don't like each other that much: Rammstein, the gentlemen of the dark tones, and J.B.O, who see the world through rose-colored glasses. The reason for the quarrel between the two most successful new German rock bands is, of all things, Nicole's lame ballad of dismay, 'Ein Bißchen Frieden' (note: the band used the music from ‘Wollt ihr das Bett in Flammen sehen?’ for their song without Rammstein permission).

Note: Hannes was interviewed at another time than Till and Richard for the article.

Kreator - ‘Leave this work behind’

Hannes: Is that Kreator? This proves my thesis that 80's Metal is coming back. The opening riff reminded me a lot of the NWOBHM phase. I think that's good, but I don't like the use of the samples, it seems somehow artificial. I'm a little bored with the type of singing, but Mille was one of the first to introduce it. That's why he's allowed to.

Richard: Poor you, what you listen to... That stuff is completely over.

Till: That's all justified, it's just not my thing. Not at all. But now to claim that it sucks or something, I find that presumptuous. I just don't like this music.

Mötley Crüe - ‘Brandon’

Hannes: I have no idea who that is. Sounds like a mix between Savatage and Extreme. The strings are very nice, but the song gets lost at times. Not bad, but not really great either. Motley Crue? Oh God! This text is too cheesy for me, this is America.

Richard: Tommy Lee sings there? The one with Pamela! He wrote that song for his son? Really? Songs for children are good. I accept it. Writing a song for a child — that's nice. So why haven't we done this yet? Almost half, but that's coming.

Till (thoughtfully): A beautiful song.

Hammerfall - ‘Hammerfall’

Hannes: That's a German band, isn't it? Anyway, this music started with Helloween. I only like music like this if it's really great. For example Conception. This sounds too much like Running Wild. I like it less. In terms of craftsmanship, you can't complain, professionally.

Richard: Real Metal. (shrugs) Do me the head voice! Manöver or Iron Maiden?

Till: Megadeth or something.

Richard: Such styles of music are so through. I can't do anything with guitars in the traditional sense.

Till: The time is really over.

Emperor - ‘The loss and curse of reverence’

Hannes: Is someone singing? This is utter madness! Stupid Borgir meets Strapping Young Lad or what? Unfortunately the sound is pathetic. I couldn't hear it while driving, it would drive me insane. But this is very interesting, totally wacky. Has Mussorgsky motifs, not very pretty but very interesting.

Richard: But you played some band on tape. (laughs) Emperor? There's some really good stuff out there. I really like Meshuggah.

Till: (hangs his head next to the player): He sings all the time!

Richard: Yes, yes, he sings.

Till: It’s very brutal. Not my thing at all, but definitely very interesting. I really thought it was some kind of noise, but not singing. Weirdly mixed.

Richard: Nice sound collage.

Armageddon Dildos - ‘Open up your eyes’

Hannes: I think that's really good, I would buy it. Is that the Krupps? Armageddon dildos? What a cool band name! Never heard of it, but I like it.

Richard: Krupps? Sings like Jürgen Engler. In any case, you can tell that they made an effort to combine modern songwriting with conventional guitars. Pretty interesting in that respect.

Till: It always bothers me when you're immediately reminded of another band when it comes to things like that. At first I thought it was a Depeche Mode knockoff because of the choirs and sounds. And suddenly there is a Krupps song. I do not know.

Richard: In any case, they make an effort.

Paradise Lost - ‘One Second’

Hannes: I can't hear such sampling strings, worn out and pretty cheap. Harmonies that have already been made thousands of times. Judas Priest recorded that fifteen years ago. Bores me. Who is this? Paradise Lost? This is PL? Rewind again. This is just unreal. Then they are now dead to me. I think they want to get rich. I'm really shocked.

Richard: Sounds like Depeche Mode. A German band? An American? An English one? Yes? Then I don't know them. Paradise Lost. Hm, I once saw them in concert and thought they were so shitty. I left. One of the few concerts where I didn't stay until the end. Was really bad. So posable. Although I don't think this is bad at all. They have changed for the better.

Till: I actually don't like Paradise Lost at all. But I like this song very much. It pretty much suits my taste in music. I tend to listen to darker things, gothic and such.

Richthofen - ‘Ich Mach’ dich tot’

Hannes: Cool sound. directional, right? Full in your face, you could maybe even get something out of it in terms of production technology. I don't want to appear stuffy, but the message in the song is probably not the one that should be conveyed to the young listener. I don't want to offend, but it's kind of like a Rammstein clone.

Till: Richthofen is the name of the band? Aha. And the song is called 'I'll kill you'? Hm. It's like, 'I'm-really-bad-bad'. I really can't say more about it.

Richard: There are quite a few bands going in that direction right now, aren't there?

Rammstein - ‘Du hast’

Hannes: That's Rammstein. In my opinion, this song sounds a lot like Laibach. Business-wise they are probably making the right move, namely becoming more harmless, poppier and more commercial. This will definitely be successful. I think it's a good thing that they've dispensed with this exaggerated Teutonic pathos. I like it, but Herzeleid was even better.

J.B.O - ‘Ein bißchen frieden’

Till: Ah, J.B.O!

Richard: It's okay when musicians copy other bands, but musically I find this really shitty. They can't even keep their spirits up. I don't find it funny at all. Actually, it's outrageous. You should have respect for certain things.

Till: I don't think it's that bad. What really sucks is that they went so hard behind our backs.

Richard: Didn't even put the copyright on the record.

Till: Now it's the work of the lawyers.

[albinodeer]

Deadly Heart: A Helluva Boss Fanfic

This is my latest commission for @kiddoryder, who came up with (most of) the plot as well as the title! If you enjoy this, please consider reaching out to me for a commission! Details can be found on my blog.

            Blitzo stared at the walls of his home where he had pictures of his friends and his daughter pinned up, all with his own face deliberately scratched out or covered. His thoughts spiraled down the dark hole that they liked to explore any time Blitzo had a bad night.

            It had been about a week since the incident at Ozzie’s and his fight with Stolas. Loona was gone more often than she was home, so he was left alone with his thoughts and a bottle, which was never a good combination. Blitzo didn’t drink that often, but when he did, it went one of two ways: he felt fantastic and ended the night in bed with someone, or he felt awful and ended the night alone, clinging to his phone for reminders that he had something to live for.

            Tonight seemed to be the second type.

            Why had he even bothered going? What did he think he would gain? Why was he stupid enough to invite Stolas, of all people?

            As if on cue, Blitzo’s phone rang in his hand. He nearly dropped it on the floor as he scrambled to hit the green “answer” button when he saw the name on the screen.

            “Stolas!” he said into the phone. He mentally dialed back his excitement and anxiousness before repeating his name. “Stolas. I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

            The voice that came from Blitzo’s phone sounded so nice to his drunk ears. “I want to talk,” he said. He sounded sad, too.

            “Oh, okay. Yeah. I mean, I figured, since you called.”

            Wow, Blitzo thought, what a stupid fucking thing to say.

            Stolas replied with a half-hearted chuckle. “Would you like to come here? Via is with her mother, so we could be alone and talk.”

            Blitzo thought about it for a second. He was a little intoxicated, so he might say something stupid. No, he would definitely say something stupid. But, at the same time, if he didn’t go, he wouldn’t have the chance to say something smart.

            “Yeah,” Blitzo said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. “Yeah, I’ll be right over.”

            He pulled himself up off the couch, which took far more effort than it should have, and set the bottle of liquor aside. Stolas would probably have better quality stuff, anyway. He grabbed his jacket off of the hook and pulled it on, covering the spots along his arms. It wasn’t like Stolas hadn’t seen them, but Blitzo always felt just a little more secure with the jacket on anyway.

            He took a few steps toward the door. Was he sober enough to drive there without killing himself? He guessed that part really didn’t matter as much as making sure that the company van made it out in one piece. He gave himself a makeshift sobriety test, putting one foot in front of the other and walking along an imaginary tightrope on the floor.

            Good enough.

            He opened the door and stepped outside into the thick, humid air of the night. He fumbled for his keys in his jacket pocket, then accidentally dropped them on the ground. Shit. Blitzo sighed as he bent to grab them. Maybe that was a sign from the universe that he was just supposed to stay home and stop wasting Stolas’ time.

            Too bad he didn’t believe in signs.

            The van was parked around the corner, and he climbed in. As soon as he turned the key in the ignition, music started blaring from all four speakers. He jumped and reached for the dial, turning the volume down until the music was almost imperceptible. Obviously, he had been in a better mood the last time he had been in the van.

            He pressed the gas without bothering with his seatbelt. The van lurched forward, faster than Blitzo had intended, and almost slammed into a garbage pail on the other side of the street.

            Fuck, Blitzo thought, get it together.  

            He lifted his foot off the gas just a little and eased around the corner. He watched as the world seemed to pass by him, instead of him passing by the world. A few imps wandered the streets. Some were obviously looking for their next fix; some were providing it. One imp looked lost, their eyes scanning the streets as they turned from one side to the other. If Blitzo were a better imp, he might have stopped to help. Instead, he pressed onward.

            The sights changed as he got closer to Stolas’ mansion. There was less trash, both literal and in the form of wandering imps and demons, and more streetlights. It was harder to sneak up on someone and assassinate them when there was more light. There was also more greenery. Blitzo sometimes wondered if Stolas ever had anything to do with that. He did love plants, after all.

            Finally, Blitzo arrived in Stolas’ driveway. The cameras at the end trained on him for a second, but he and his van were common visitors at this point. Though always armed, Blitzo posed no threat to Stolas.

            He stopped the van outside the door and put it in park before turning the key. Blitzo was somewhat rattled by how silent everything became all of a sudden. He stared at the handle on his car door for a second, contemplating turning around and heading home to drink himself unconscious. But, he was already there. He opened the door and stepped out.

            Blitzo shut the car door behind him and looked up at the mansion. Stolas was waiting there for him, a smile spread across his face.

“Blitz!” he greeted, the “y” on the end noticeably missing.

“Hey, Stolas,” Blitzo said, shoving his hands in his pockets before heading up the steps to the front door.

Stolas’ smile faded slightly as Blitzo approached him. “Blitz, have you been drinking? Did you drive all the way here in this condition?”

            Blitzo shrugged. “I’m fine, Stolas,” he replied, purposefully leaving the question unanswered. He stepped inside without being invited.

            Stolas didn’t argue. He followed Blitzo inside, shutting the door behind them.

            Blitzo started to head toward the bedroom with his hands still in his pockets, but Stolas gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “I was thinking that we could actually just talk,” he told Blitzo.

            Blitzo turned to him with a suspicious glare. “Why?”

            He watched as a slight blush covered Stolas’ cheeks. “Well, the way we left things the other night was… less than ideal.”

            Blitzo softened a little. Less than ideal. Yeah, that was one way to put it. He had brought Stolas into the line of fire, figuratively of course, and Stolas had, figuratively, let Blitzo take the bullet.

            “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Blitzo sighed.

            “I was going to offer to pour us some wine, but…”

            “Red’s fine,” Blitzo cut him off, knowing that it was going to be “but you’re already drunk.”

            Stolas complied, grabbing the bottle and two glasses before leading Blitzo into the living room. Blitzo plopped down on the couch and looked around. He didn’t spend a lot of time in the mansion outside of the bedroom. Had this been one of the rooms he and Stolas had spent time in together the first time they met as kids? He couldn’t be sure. So much had changed since then.

            Stolas poured the wine for them. He had told his servants to be somewhere else for the night, and they were eager to comply. Blitzo noticed the lack of other imps around, but he didn’t comment.

            “So,” Stolas started, handing Blitzo a glass, “I just want to… I mean, I know you know that… I can’t let…” The owl sighed.

            Blitzo studied Stolas’ face, trying to figure out what was going on behind the prince’s eyes. Blitzo’s brain, of course, jumped to the worst. “You’re ditching me and keeping the book,” he said as more of a statement of fact than a question.

            Stolas’ four eyes widened. “What? No! No, not that at all!”

            Blitzo was taken aback by this. Really? Blitzo had gotten Stolas’ entire personal life broadcasted to the entirety of Ozzie’s, and Stolas wasn’t leaving him for it? “Then, what’s this about?”

            Stolas sighed again. “Blitzo, I⸻”

            Stolas’ speech was cut off by a loud bang in the foyer area of the mansion. Blitzo stood first, his hand going for his gun which he… had left at home. Damn it.

Stolas blocked Blitzo with his arm, rising as well. “Stay here.”

            Blitzo started to argue, but Stolas held up a hand for silence. He stepped forward and walked toward the foyer. Blitzo followed but hung back just a little. He jumped when he heard a scream from the other room. It wasn’t Stolas, though. It was much more feminine.

            “Where is he?” the voice came, loud and shrill.

            Stella.

            “You broke the fucking door,” Stolas’ voice came next, incredulous. Blitzo fell back. Stolas could handle his wife on his own.

            “I saw that imp’s van outside,” Stella snapped. The way that she said “imp” made it sound like the vilest of curse words. Blitzo tried not to take it personally. Stella continued, “I know he’s in here.”

            “So?” Stolas shot back. “I may entertain whomever I chose. You don’t live here anymore.”

            “And now he gets to?”

            Stolas laughed wryly. “You do not get to choose who lives here. This is my home.”

            Blitzo wanted to clarify that he did not live there, but he didn’t know if that would hurt or help Stolas’ point.

            “Where the fuck is he, Stolas?” Stella hissed. “Tell. Me.”

            “Stella…”

            Blitzo heard the click of the safety coming off of a gun. Shit shit shit.

            He grabbed the closest thing to him that could be used as a weapon: the base of the lamp. For Blitzo, it was almost the size of a baseball bat, and just as heavy as one. He stealthily made his way toward the voices.

            “Put that down,” Stolas demanded. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

            Stella laughed. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Stolas.” The way she said “Stolas” made it sound more like a curse than a name.

            Blitzo gritted his teeth as he rounded the corner and swung the lamp as hard as he could toward the source of Stella’s voice. The lamp made contact, but it only served to knock Stella back a few feet. Blitzo was getting ready to swing again when he registered the sight of Stella smirking and the barrel of a gun eclipsing his vision.

            “No!”

            The voice came from behind him. Stolas. Then, before Blitzo could even think to move, Stolas was squarely between himself and the gun.

            A shot rang out.

            Blitzo’s senses seemed to dull for a second. His panicked scream didn’t reach his own ears. The sight of the gun dropping to the floor seemed to be in slow motion, and it made only the smallest noise as it landed on the marble. His muscles felt slow and weak as he looked up at Stella’s face, registering a mixture of fear and surprise and… satisfaction, for only a split second before dropping to his knees.

            His wits returned to him as his knees hit the cool floor. He grabbed the gun before Stella could reach it. It didn’t matter, though. She was already running.

            Blitzo’s attention turned sharply to Stolas, who had crumpled to the ground beside him in a pool of his own blood.

            No…

            “Stay with me,” Blitzo muttered as he turned Stolas over to assess the damage. “Come on, stay with me.”

            The bullet had ripped through the prince’s shirt and skin, staining his beautiful white feathers a deep crimson. Blitzo felt around as Stolas groaned in pain, the only sign that he was still alive. No exit wound. The bullet was lodged somewhere inside of him.

            Blitzo put pressure on the wound as he tried to think. He knew how to take care of bullet wounds, but that was on imps, not Goetia princes. Surely royalty had to have some kind of private medical service, right? Though, how often would Stolas actually have to deal with a medical emergency? His powers were so strong that he probably never got hurt.

            Blitzo took a deep breath. Focus. He needed to focus. The only way out of this was to keep his wits about him and act. Who would know what to do?

            Oh, fuck, Blitzo thought. Octavia.

            Octavia would know exactly what to do. She was a part of the family. She would know the protocol. Blitzo grabbed his phone and found the number while keeping pressure on the wound with his other hand.

            The voice that came from the phone sounded skeptical and tired. “Hello?”

            “Don’t hang up,” Blitzo said quickly. “It’s about your father.”

            Octavia scoffed. “I don’t want to speak to you.”

            Of course she didn’t. Why would she want to talk to the imp who was fucking her father and ended her parents’ marriage? He didn’t blame her, but he did need her.

            “I know, but he’s been shot,” Blitzo told her urgently, cutting off her startled gasp as he continued. “What do I do? Where do I bring him?”

            “I’ll send you the address now. Get him there. They’ll know what to do.”

            Blitzo was impressed by Octavia’s steady tone. The way that she was able to put her feelings aside and work to solve the problem at hand showed maturity far beyond her years. Blitzo wondered if he had caused some of that with the turmoil he had brought into their family.

            “Got it,” Blitzo said before hanging up. He didn’t wait for the address. He placed Stolas’ hands over the wound, instructing him to keep pressure on it and praying that Stolas could follow the direction, before running outside.

            He pulled the van up as close to the door as possible and threw open the back door before heading back inside. This was going to be difficult as fuck.

            “Come on,” Blitzo grunted as he did his best to lift Stolas to his feet. “I need a little help here.”

            Stolas made a small movement but was unable to get up.

            “God fucking damn it,” Blitzo mumbled, jumping up once again. He heard his phone go off in his pocket. Hopefully that was Octavia sending the address. It wouldn’t matter, though, if Blitzo couldn’t get Stolas in the goddamn van.

            He almost fell this time as he raced down the front steps to the van, leaving the door wide open behind him. “Sorry about this, baby,” he mumbled to the vehicle before throwing it into reverse and swerving backward. He turned the van so the front was facing the main entrance, then floored it.

            The van roared as it lurched up the stairs. The driver’s side mirror caught on the entrance to the mansion and was torn off, but Blitzo was able to skid the van to a halt before it did any more damage.

            Blitzo jumped out of the driver’s seat and ran around to Stolas. He used all of his strength to pull Stolas into the back of the van, doing his best not to hurt him even more. Stolas was already weakening. Blitzo could tell by his lack of reaction to the jostling.

            Blitzo slammed the door shut once he was in. “Sorry about this,” he said, climbing into the front seat. He flinched a little as he put the van in reverse once more and hurtled back down the stairs.

            He obliterated some shrubs on the way out, but he figured that Stolas wouldn’t care about that in a time like this. That was, if Stolas even made it…

            No. He couldn’t think like that. He pulled up the address on his phone and pressed the gas pedal to the floor, tearing out onto the road with little regards for anyone else. Luckily, there weren’t many other cars on the road.

            In the back seat, Stolas made a small, pained wheeze.

            “Just hang in there two more minutes,” Blitzo told him. “We’re almost there. We’re gonna get you some help.”

            He blew through a red light, nearly hitting a pedestrian as he did. Blitzo didn’t care. He could see the building up ahead. It looked like a smaller version of the hospitals imps could go to if they deemed themselves worthy of professional medical care. Blitzo never had.

            He didn’t bother taking the curved road into the hospital parking lot, choosing instead just to cut across the grass. The car screeched to a halt in front of the front doors where several doctors and nurses were already waiting for them. Octavia must have called.

            They had the back door open and Stolas on a gurney before Blitzo could even open his door. Blitzo ran around to the other side of the car and reached for Stolas’ hand as he as wheeled inside. A strong hand pressed against Blitzo’s chest.

            “Thank you for bringing him. We will take it from here,” the nurse said, stopping him from moving any further.

            “No, you don’t understand, I’m his…”

            “Sorry. Servants aren’t allowed in. You will have to wait outside.”

            Blitzo felt a pang in his chest. Servant. That’s what they thought he was. He started to argue, but before he could get another word out, the door was shut in his face. Blitzo pulled at the door, but it was locked. He could only watch through the glass as Stolas was pushed through the hall, still bleeding and weak, and disappeared.

            Suddenly, Blitzo realized how cold and uncomfortable he was. He looked down to find that he was drenched in Stolas’ blood, which was starting to dry against his skin and his clothes. He tore off his outer coat and tossed it aside.

            He was so stupid. Who the hell did he think he was to deserve to be with Stolas, even just for sex? If he had never gone after that stupid book, none of this would have happened. Stolas wouldn’t be laying on a hospital gurney on his way to get a bullet removed from his side. He would be with his kid, talking about the stars or taxidermy or whatever the hell it was the two of them talked about.

            Blitzo rubbed his hands frantically against his pants, trying to get the blood off of them. It wasn’t working. His pants were soaked, too. All he was doing was spreading it around. He dropped to the ground next to the door and bit back a sob. This was all his fault. All his fucking fault.

            He was pulled out of his thoughts by a quiet voice.

            “Blitzo?”

            Blitzo looked up and saw Octavia standing in front of him. He could tell that she had been crying, and her entire body was shaking. He forced himself back to his feet.

            “Octavia,” he said, trying to keep his voice even.

            Octavia looked past him, through the glass doors. “Where is he?”

            “They just took him inside. I wasn’t allowed in,” Blitzo explained.

            Octavia made eye contact with the receptionist inside and waved her down. “Is he going to be okay?”            

            Blitzo swallowed hard. “I… I don’t know.”

            The receptionist opened the door. “Right this way,” she said to Octavia. “But he has to…”

            “He’s coming with me,” Octavia cut the receptionist off. Her voice was even and demanding of respect. The receptionist didn’t argue.

            They both stepped inside and were led to an elevator by one of the nurses. Blitzo couldn’t help but notice the disapproving glares of the few demons in halls. They climbed into the elevator and rode to the second floor, then were led to a clean, empty hospital room.

            “We will bring him here as soon as he is finished with surgery. We will keep you updated on his progress,” the nurse told them, motioning to the two chairs in the room for them to sit in.

            Octavia stopped the nurse before she could leave. “He will be needing a change of clothes,” she reported, pointing at Blitzo and his blood-soaked attire.

            The nurse looked at him, the disdain evident in her face. “I’ll see what I can do.” She left the room and shut the door behind her.

            An awkward silence followed.

            Octavia sat down in one of the chairs and stared at Blitzo. Blitzo stared at the ground, trying to figure out what to say. An apology didn’t feel good enough. He couldn’t just say, “Sorry I was fucking your dad which made your parents split up and your mom go crazy and try to kill your dad.” No. An apology wouldn’t really do. He wouldn’t even know where to start.

            “I’m sorry.”

            The sound didn’t come from him. Blitzo looked up at Octavia in earnest surprise. “What?”

            “Don’t make me say it again, old man,” Octavia grumbled.

            Blitzo shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

            “I’m sorry that I was so mean to you, and to my dad about you,” Octavia clarified begrudgingly. “You make him happy. I hadn’t seen him that happy in years.”

            She started to tear up. Blitzo didn’t know what to say.

            “And now,” Octavia continued, “I might never see him again…” She finally broke down in tears, holding her face in her hands as she sobbed.

            “No,” Blitzo said. “Don’t say that. He’s gonna be fine.”

            Octavia sniffed and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “It was my mom, wasn’t it?” she asked.

            Blitzo was silent.

            Octavia took a deep, shuddering breath. “I saw her grab a gun before she left. I didn’t know what she was doing. I didn’t think that she would actually…”

            Blitzo had to be honest with her, even if she would just hate him again because of it. “She wasn’t trying to kill him.”

            Octavia’s face scrunched in confusion. “What?”

            “She wasn’t trying to kill your father. She was trying to kill me.”

            Maybe he should have let her succeed.

            Octavia’s mouth opened, but then shut. She didn’t have a response. Blitzo didn’t blame her. The bullet was supposed to be in his head, not in Stolas’ side.

            The tension was broken as the door was opened and the nurse stepped back inside with a change of clothes for Blitzo. “This was the best I could do,” she said, setting the clothes on the end of the hospital bed.

            “How is he?” Octavia asked quickly.

            The nurse turned to look at Octavia. “He lost a lot of blood. They are removing the bullet and they are going to give him a blood transfusion. I will let you know when we know more.”

            The nurse left the two of them alone. Blitzo held up the clothes. They were obviously meant for children, but they were almost his size. He hated the size difference between himself and the royals. Still, the clothes were better than his blood-soaked ones.

            “Can ya turn around?” he asked Octavia, who silently complied. He got undressed as quickly as he could and pulled on the fresh clothes. He felt stupid in the brightly colored shirt and pants. It reminded him a little too much of his past.

            “You can turn back around,” he told Octavia. She did, and she stared at him for a second. Blitzo thought that she was still angry with him and thinking of an eloquent way to say, “Fuck you,” but instead, she started laughing.

            Blitzo’s expression remained serious for a moment, but then he couldn’t help himself. He laughed, too. The tension slowly melted away.

            “I look ridiculous,” he said.

            “You really do.” Octavia wiped tears from her eyes. Blitzo couldn’t tell if they were from laughing or crying.

            Blitzo finally sat down. “I wish that I would have stopped this from happening,” Blitzo told her softly.

            Octavia nodded. “Yeah. Me, too. But we didn’t…”

            “Octavia, I…”

            Octavia cut him off. “Don’t. Let’s just… Let’s just wait for him. Okay?”

            Blitzo shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable. “Yeah. Okay.”

            The moments passed in silence until the door opened once again. Both Octavia and Blitzo stood as the doctor entered. Neither were able to speak.

            The doctor cleared his throat. “We were able to remove the bullet. After the blood transfusion, his vitals are stable. He is expected to make a full recovery.”

            Octavia gasped joyfully and Blitzo sunk back into his chair. Stolas was alive. Stolas was going to be okay.

            “He’s in post-op now. We will bring him here as soon as he wakes up,” the doctor said. He nodded his acknowledgement to Octavia before leaving.

            “He’s okay,” Octavia breathed. “He’s okay.”

            Blitzo just nodded. He was filled with feelings that he couldn’t explain, even to himself. Slowly, he realized something… 

            He loved Stolas.

            Fuck.

            That wasn’t good. That screwed up a lot. That put Stolas at risk. That put them both at risk. But still…

            The door opened once again and both Octavia and Blitzo jumped out of their chairs as Stolas was rolled in. The nurses transferred him to the bed and set him up with an IV and an oxygen mask as the pair stood close by.

            After a moment, the nurses left, and the three were left alone. Octavia reached out and took Stolas’ hand. Tears filled her eyes but didn’t spill over onto her cheeks.

            Stolas’ head turned slightly, but Blitzo could tell that he wasn’t fully conscious.

            “I’m sorry, Dad,” Octavia said softly. “I’m so sorry.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry. I ignored how happy he made you. I was just so upset. I should’ve been there…”

            “No,” Blitzo assured her. “No. I’m glad you weren’t there. He wouldn’t have wanted you there.”

            Octavia nodded. “I’ve never seen him as happy as he is with you… Don’t give that up just because my mother’s a bitch.”

            Blitzo felt himself choke up a little. “I won’t.”

            Octavia let go of Stolas’ hand and grabbed Blitzo’s. She placed his hand on her father’s, patted it, then stepped back. “I’m going to find the vending machine. Stay here with him.” She stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

            Blitzo let his fingers curl around Stolas’. Stolas’ tightened in return. Blitzo couldn’t help himself any longer. He started sobbing.

            “Stolas, I’m sorry. I didn’t think… I didn’t think that you actually…” He needed to pull himself together. He took a deep, shaky breath. “I didn’t think you actually cared about me. I thought it was just sex…”

            Stolas’ fingers wrapped even tighter around Blitzo’s. He was in there somewhere, just not able to speak.

            “Stolas,” Blitzo said, almost inaudibly, “I love you. I’m sorry.”

            Stolas didn’t have to say anything. His grip loosened and tightened three times in a row.

            It was the clearest “I love you” that Blitzo had ever heard.

***

            It took a while for Stolas to fully wake up, but Blitzo and Octavia were waiting there for him when he did. He opened all of his eyes and blinked at the two of them.

            “Via… Blitzy…” he breathed.

            Octavia and Blitzo stood and rushed to his bedside. Octavia grabbed his hand. “Dad!”

            Stolas smiled weakly. “My two loves…”

            Octavia leaned down and wrapped her arms around her father. “Dad, I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried.”

            “I’m okay,” he assured her, squeezing her as hard as he could. He looked over Octavia’s shoulder at Blitzo and smiled. “We’re all going to be okay.”

            Blitzo smiled back. He didn’t say anything, but he knew that he didn’t have to.

            Octavia stood back up and wiped tears from her eyes. “I love you, Dad.”

            “I love you, too, Via.” Stolas looked back over at Blitzo and ran his eyes over the imp’s body. “Did you dress up just for me, Blitzy? You look rather… playful.”

            Blitzo couldn’t help but smile as he rolled his eyes.

            “Well, I hope you’ll forgive me,” Stolas said, “but I think this little… role play will have to wait.”

            Octavia groaned. “Dad.”

            Stolas chuckled at his own joke and settled back into his bed. Blitzo rolled his eyes again and walked toward the door. “I’ll go pack some clothes and things for Octavia and I. I’ll be back soon.”

            He opened the door but stopped when he heard Stolas’ voice behind him.

            “Blitzo?”

            Blitzo turned to look at Stolas, who smiled softly at him.

            “Do be careful, my love.”

            Blitzo felt something stir in the pit of his stomach. Stupid feelings.

            “Yeah,” he said, “I will be.”

[pastrnaks-sainz]

mainlypastrnaksbae AO3 Masterlist

So this is definitely not because I'm procrastinating. ANYWAY, here are all my AO3 fics organized by pairing for your convenience.

Patrice Bergeron/Brad Marchand

Honey, I Adopted a College Student ~ Newly married and just having moved into a house of their own (a feat years, if not a decade in the making), Patrice and Brad were just starting to settle into their new town. They both fell in love with Amherst, Massachusetts. It wasn’t close to Boston by any means, but neither of them needed to be - or wanted to be - close to the city. And Amherst wasn’t Boston, but it was still busy. It was the biggest town in the county and it was home to not one but two colleges. Amherst College with its student body of just around 1,800 and University of Massachusetts Amherst with its overall population of just under 24,000 students. There was plenty to do in Amherst, Massachusetts and Patrice and Brad loved it.

Adventures in Captaincy ~ There was not a word in the English (or French; Brad knows, he looked) dictionary to describe just how much Brad Marchand was in love. No combination of two words, not even a made up word would cover it. Brad had tried, Pasta had tried, even fucking Z had tried and he hadn’t been witness to Brad’s shenangins in over two years. Nothing. Their three brains could not come up with a single word. Things were starting to feel hopeless.

Are They...? ~ “Krej,” Monty said as he walked into the equipment room.

“Hey, coach,” Krej smiled. He turned away from the stacks of tape he was looking through to give Monty his full attention. “What’s up?”

“This is gonna sound weird,” Monty sighed. “But Bergy and Marchy. Are they…?”

or

Monty finds out his two best players are married

Anger Management ~ “I am too,” Patrice cupped the side of Brad’s face with his hand and traced his jawline. “Do you need to take your anger out?”

Brad sighed and looked back down. There were only a handful of nights he could recall that Patrice had asked him that question.

4 Times Marchy Slept on Bergy's Couch + 1 Time he Slept in His Bed ~ “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nice to see you too, Pat,” Marchy retorted, gently pushing past him into the apartment. “Do you mind if I use your air conditioner?”

“You know you’re always welcome over here,” Bergy said as he closed and locked the door. “But just one question, did you seriously walk over here in the rain?”

Young, Dumb, and Drunk ~ “I’ll go get refills.”

“Shit."

or

Bergy and Marchy share a drunk bro kiss on the road in Philly

A Series of Stupid Decisions ~ Brad Marchand was famous for making stupid decisions. Licking Ryan Callahan had to be at the top of the list. He never had the best self control in the world and when he got too caught up in the heat of the moment things could go extremely downhill just as fast. He was a pest, sure, and he was really good at it, but he had a real problem with self sabotage. And it always had a habit of rearing its ugly head at the worst times.

Patrice Bergeron Presents: How to Remove a Pest ~ “Yeah that’s right,” one of the Wings players chirped.

“Ignore him,” Bergy said, leaning into Marchy’s ear.

“Gotta get your boyfriend to get you outta trouble.”

Fuck.

My Best Bro ~ His affection for Bergy didn’t end once they left the ice, though. It followed them once they left and went back to the locker room. Hell, it even followed him out of the rinks and back to their apartments. Brad was, unequivocally, the fiercest defender Patrice had. And Bergy knew that, he really appreciated it too. He just wished Brad wouldn’t be so… easily provoked.

Let Me be Your Fire ~ “Patrice, you and Brad Marchand obviously have one of the best relationships in the NHL,” the reporter (Patrice had forgotten his name the second he said it) said, starting another question. “What is it, specifically, that you love about him?”

Patrice huffed a breathless laugh before answering, “You know he’s… he’s a really great hockey player. He teaches me something every time we play together.”

Brad stood still at the door. He couldn’t fight the empty feeling starting to sink into his chest.

Seeing Red ~ I mean really, the National Hockey should have known by now that touching Patrice Bergeron in front of Brad Marchand was going to end up with gloves and sticks and maybe teeth flying. Even if whatever hit or jab was clean, Marchy would still be going into rabid animal mode. It was just science at this point.

Something in the Orange Tells me We're Not Done ~ It was no secret that Brad was a menace to play against. It was also no secret that, publicly, Marchy took pride in being a pest. Bergy’s was the only opinion he really valued. At least, that’s what he had always thought before that dull ache settled into his chest. The empty one that spread to his fingers and toes and made him want to curl up in a hole and die.

Charlie McAvoy/Matt Grzelcyk

Minors and Majors ~ The Grzelcyk family reunion was running late. It always ran late. Matt was just happy that his parents were hosting this year. The already small backyard of their Charlestown triple decker was packed with family members. Matt had claimed a spot right by the back door, making his escape into the house and subsequently up the stairs behind the locked door of his childhood bedroom that much easier.

His ringtone going off was just the saving grace. He made a big show of pulling his phone out of his pocket and pretending the ringtone going off was a call from Bruce instead of a text from Charlie.

Sergeant McAvoy ~ Base security drove Matt crazy. The last thing he wanted to do after a rough loss was pull out every form of identification known to man. And if there was a new person at the gate that didn’t recognize him he needed to go through the whole rigamarole about who he was and explain that, yes, Marines can in fact have husbands.

Baby it's Cold Outside ~ It was a full force blizzard at this point. Matt leaned into the wind and kept walking, fighting against the burning in his lungs. He wheezed and leaned against a building for support. What was he doing out here? He didn’t know how to get back home on foot, hell he didn’t even know where in Brooklyn he was. He looked around, trying to get his bearings. It was totally useless. The snow was so heavy and thick he wouldn’t be able to see anything no matter how close to him it was.

Charlie McAvoy's Ryan Reynolds Obsession ~ Ryan’s new movie started filming in Boston right down the street from the Garden. Charlie had passed the film set on his way into one of the games and almost drove into oncoming traffic. He’d thundered into the locker room and announced loudly to everyone that the love of his life was right down the street.

Give In ~ “I’m Matt,” the man said, extending a hand. “I’m gonna be working with you on your physical therapy.”

“Charlie,” Charlie introduced himself. “Are you new? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

Stars Collide ~ Matt felt safe in Charlie’s embrace, like he always did. Especially when he threw a leg over Charlie’s thighs, holding him even closer. It took a while for Charlie to clear his throat and shift awkwardly, pulling his hips away from Matt’s.

“What, do I smell or something?” Matt quipped before he could run through all the possibilities for why Charlie would pull away.

“It’s, uh, it’s not that."

Sic Semper Tyrannis ~ Say what you will about Americans, but they loved a sex scandal. No matter what century it was. There were countless polling numbers that could back that statement up, not to mention all the examples from recent history. As long as there had been politics in America there had been sex scandals. So when Matt Grzelcyk was elected forty seventh President of the United States he was determined to keep his administration as clean as he possibly could. He just didn’t plan on the young reporter from CNN.

Hampus Lindholm/David Pastrnak

Christmas at the Krejci's ~ A lot of people had seasonal depression but David’s was different. He spent a lot of time thinking about his dad this time of year. And when he broke into the league Krejci had taken him under his wing and really acted as a father figure. Now that Krej was back in Boston and playing on a line with Pasta the two of them were visibly happier.

Twitch ~ He made himself comfortable, folding his legs beneath him as he watched. He genuinely had no idea what was going on so he kept his eyes on David. He’d been in loungewear all day, only putting on a beanie, a tank top (one that showed off his full sleeve and drove Hampus absolutely insane), and a pair of gray sweatpants. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world but to Hampus he was absolutely perfect.

Four Points Means Four Orgasms ~ It was a six hour flight from Anaheim to Boston and they had three more hours to go. Hampus could not keep his eyes off David. After the win most of the guys were too amped up to sleep. The sight of Marchy dancing around with Wagner’s tie tied around his head was an entertaining one to say the least, but the only thing Hampus had eyes for was the blond boy with the ear to ear smile on his face sitting diagonally from him. Hampus could feel the excitement and just pure happiness radiating off of him. He couldn’t wait to get them back to their Boston apartment. He had been formulating a plan and ignoring whatever Pavel Zacha was saying for the past twenty minutes.

David Pastrnak and the Intimidating Makeup Bag ~ “Do you want to watch me?” she asked. David nodded excitedly. She smiled and patted the seat beside her. David sat down and rested his hands in his lap as he watched. He was fascinated at how she used the products in front of her. He had never watched someone do their makeup before and he was absolutely fascinated.

Promise (I Never Forgot You) ~ The Swedes and the Czechs both had what they lovingly referred to as secret weapons up their sleeves. Sweden had this defenseman who was absolutely lights out. Despite the fact that he was seventeen he was able to throw his body around on the ice like someone much older than him. And Czechia had this forward, an absolute star. He was sixteen but, shit, he could play.

vous aves du feu ~ “Sorry,” he mumbled, glancing down to the dirtied ashtray. “Just… couldn’t help myself I guess. I won’t do it again.”

“It’s alright,” Hampus said, rubbing David’s shoulder, his fingers dipping beneath his unbuttoned shirt. David couldn’t help but feel he had something else to say though. “Just…”

“Just what?” David’s voice shook as he asked the question. His mind was starting to race the way it always did whenever Hampus had something planned.

“Remember what I said the last time you smoked?”

Man After Midnight ~ “I have a favor I need to ask of you,” Hampus said softly as he played with David’s fingers, their hands joined together on the white table cloth.

“Anything,” David said as he put his wine glass down, smiling at Hampus through the dim lighting of the restaurant.

“Will you cancel your plans for the next two days?”

You Can Touch, You Can Play ~ “What have you been thinking about? Specifically?”

“Well there’s that one lyric,” Hampus said, shifting his gaze from the tiled floor to David’s face.

“Which one?” David asked, swallowing thickly. He knew where this was going.

“I can act like a star,” Hampus began, cupping the side of David’s face. “I can beg on my knees.”

Come Back to Me Now, Darling ~ The thing is… David didn’t mean to fall in love. But he had six foot four of platinum haired Swedish defenseman in front of him so, like, what else was he supposed to do? Not fall in love? Un-fucking-likely.

Take Me to Church ~ Hampus loved watching him squirm. David would start shifting his weight a little bit but that wasn’t enough for his boyfriend. Hampus wanted him to react, to almost lose it and then bring him back in.

When Hampus discovered David’s thing for manspreading he was like a kid on Christmas morning who just opened the newest XBox or Playstation.

Medically Prescribed Cuddles ~ “Do you know what’s up with Pasta? He loves mini golf, did he say anything to you?”

“He probably has a migraine,” Krej shrugged nonchalantly. Hampus blinked at him. “He gets them a lot. I was going to go over to his place after this and check on him.”

“Oh,” Hampus nodded, staring at a spot over Krej’s shoulder as he thought. “Do you mind if I come with you?”

“You know what,” Krej said, a sly smile on his face that was almost imperceptible. “Why don’t you go instead of me.”

Miles and Miles Left to go ~ Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins long after the final buzzer sounded. He was wired on the plane ride home, collecting pats on the back and congratulations from the guys the entire time. He was still turning the puck over in his hands, almost not believing he’d finally reached the fifty goal benchmark.

Upon opening his phone after taking care of the usual post game business he found at least two hundred text messages and voicemails and Instagram notifications. There were only a few he had eyes for, though. The ones from Bergy and Marchy congratulating him and promising him a nice dinner the following night. And the one from Hampus. It was a simple message but he knew exactly what it meant.

Bloody Knuckles ~ “He hit you,” Hampus mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “I had to.”

“Hampus, I get hit all the time,” David sighed. “What was so different about this time?”

“I don’t wanna repeat it,” Hampus said, looking down at his feet. David cupped his jaw and tilted his head up to look at him. “He called you a…”

Memories in Ink ~ Pasta had this tattoo. A full sleeve on his right arm. One of Lindy’s favorite things to do when they were relaxing at the end of a long day was trace the lines of ink decorating his skin.

“I kinda wanna get a tattoo,” he said, shifting his head so his chin was resting on his chest.

“Really?” David asked, his face lighting up with a smile. Lindy nodded, a smile of his own tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said. “I love yours and I want one of my own.”

David Krejci/Adam McQuaid

Nap Corners ~ As one of the premier heavyweight fighters in the league not many people expected to find Adam McQuaid cozied up to locker room quiet guy David Krejci. And yet that’s exactly what was found in one of the TD Garden’s many nap corners. Those nap corners had been set up a long time ago and you could only find them if you knew what you were looking for and where you were looking for it.

The Glory Days ~ The initial reason he had come up to the box was to escape the pre-game chaos. Everyone was excited about celebrating his thousandth game and a few (Pasta, namely) were determined to get him to crack a smile. After Nick had joked about gifting him a pulse in the Christmas video Sophia did, it had been a running gag in the locker room. David was half convinced there were bets going around about whether or not he was going to show emotion in the ceremony before puck drop. All told, it was loud in the locker room and David needed to get away.

Sunday Morning Plans ~ “Hey,” Adam said after depositing his gear in its designated spot in the garage. “The team is doing a family skate tomorrow morning, do you want to go with me? You don’t have to, I know you don’t like being cold but-”

“Adam,” David said gently, stopping his rambling before it started. “I would love to go with you. I can’t promise I’ll be very fun, but as long as I’m with you I don’t care.”

Jeremy Swayman/Linus Ullmark

Room 339, Vancouver ~ “You fucking did it, you son of a bitch!” he laughed, letting himself spin around before going in for their normal goalie hug. Linus picked up his hat and pressed it into his chest. “Holy shit, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“Tell me about it in the locker room."

Save it For a Rainy Day ~ “Let’s go dance in the rain,” Jeremy smiled widely, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he stood in the doorway of the bedroom. Linus closed his eyes, put his phone down, and hesitated before looking at his love.

“What?” he asked, blinking twice and fixing his gaze to Jeremy.

“Come on!” Jeremy exclaimed. He took three wide steps over to the bed and grabbed Linus’s hand, trying to pull him to his feet. “I’ve always wanted to dance in the rain.”

can't complain about much these days (i believe we'll be okay) ~ Somewhere along the line their cuddles became celebratory in addition to calming or grounding. It made sense, really, their go to on ice celebration was the big over dramatic hug that everyone, not just Bruins fans, had grown to love. So why wouldn’t that physical affection carry over into their office celebration?

Hopelessly Devoted ~ Jeremy felt like he was floating in space with nothing tying him down. Aimlessly drifting the cosmos until someone or something found him. He had felt that way for a while. Sure he had friends and family but he was craving something… more. A deeper connection. He wanted to feel anchored no matter where he was.

Linus was not what Jeremy expected to see when he opened his eyes.

i'm starving, darling (let me put my lips to something) ~ “Sit,” he said, pointing to one of the fluffy arm chairs. Jeremy suppressed a whine. Ully had to know what he was doing. There was no way he didn’t. “Tell me what you’ve been thinking about.”

“It’s really nothing,” Jeremy said, shaking his head and staring at Linus’s feet. “I’m just in my own head about some things. It’s not a big deal, I just need to think everything through.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Ully asked, ducking his head as he tried to catch Sway’s eye. “Come on, Jer. Open up to me.”

Okay. He had to know.

or

Sway has suppressed his need to be submissive for so long and he can't deal with it anymore

Brandon Carlo/Trent Frederic

4 Times Brandon Asked for a Hug + 1 Time Trent Asked for One ~ Hug

verb (used with object), hugged, hug·ging. 1.) to clasp tightly in the arms, especially with affection; embrace. 2.) to cling firmly or fondly to; cherish

Mine to Mark ~ “What?” Brandon asked, wheeling around. He jumped up from the couch and walked over to Trent. He opened his mouth to say something about Jeremy almost getting in a fight before he caught sight of the red mark blooming on Trent’s neck. He poked it and said, “What the fuck is that?”

or

Trent goes out and gets a hickey and Brandon gets possessive

Unadulterated ~ The buzzer sounded, the fans roared, and Dirty Water started to play. He had essentially Pavloved himself with that song, ever since Lake Tahoe. Bergy had quietly slipped him a pair of headphones on the plane ride back and he’d listened to it until he knew it word for word. And since the beginning of the season he and Brandon would always share a less than PG-13 moment in the showers after the game. He associated the music with good times, good company, and even better feelings.

'Till the Walls Come Caving in (You'll be Mine) ~ “Is something going on between you and Trent?” Nick asked point blank. Brandon cringed internally and sat down hard in his stall. Nick perched next to him and waited patiently. “Bambi, you can tell me if something's going on.”

“I know,” Brandon sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “We’ve, uh, been doing some stuff together.”

long live the reckless and the brave ~ Trent’s shoulders sagged with the weight of his day. He trudged down the hallway, dragging his feet a little bit as he went. Exhaustion was pulling him downward, tempting him to just curl up right there and take a nap like a feral cat on a stoop. But he could see the front door from where he was. Just a couple more feet.

Miscellaneous

I Can't do This Without You (Debrusk/McAvoy) ~ “JD,” he said steadily. Jake kept pushing his food around his plate. “Jake. Look at me.”

Jake listened, looking over at him. His blue eyes weren’t shining like they usually were. A frown pulled at the corners of Charlie’s mouth. He reached over and patted his shoulder before standing up, turning on his heel, and walking out of the player lounge.

missing piece of me (Pastrnak & Krejci) ~ “I’ll… I’ll talk to you later, Pasta,” Krej said, standing up. Pasta nodded, a blank look on his face as he kept his eyes trained to the table in front of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a silent tear slip from his eyes and trail down his cheek as Krej leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

The feeling of emptiness settled into his chest as he heard the bell on the door jingle as it opened and closed. Krej was gone.

Trade Season Sucks (Forbort/Clifton) ~ Washington Capitals trading Garnet Hathaway and Dimitry Orlov to the Boston Bruins for Craig Smith, Connor Clifton, Jakub Zboril, and draft picks. More details to come.

or

Derek Forbort can't lose his defensive partner

I Won't Tell if You Won't (Lindholm/Lysell) ~ He leaned against the back wall and just observed. This was his first development camp with the Bruins so he was taking his opportunity to see just what he was going to be getting into. His eyes landed on a table in the corner. He recognized John Beecher instantly, but the blond boy sitting across from him got his attention. He tilted his head as he studied the way they interacted. Beech would say something that made the blond boy laugh, the blond boy would respond in kind.

Montreal Makes People Make Bad Decisions (Bergeron/Krejci) ~ Patrice had downed a few shots and some fruity drink handed to him by Looch. But the problem was Patrice was a bit of a lightweight. He could hold his own against the boys but after he had a few shots in his system he became rather unpredictable. And going down on one of the quieter, newer members of the locker room was unpredictable for sure. However he wouldn’t mind if it became predictable.

Czech Mates (Pastrnak/Zacha/Krejci) ~ Right before he left the Devils Miles Wood had caught his elbow and told him to keep an eye out. It wasn’t uncommon for players to… welcome their new teammates or linemates in a less than conventional way. Zacha had brushed him off, saying that there was no way that was a real thing. Wood had just raised an eyebrow and reiterated his warning.

It was around right now that he was wishing he’d listened.

Kinktober

2022