#stop saying slurs it's so 2-thousand-and-late

[rachymarie]

Actually if anyone needs proof that language actually evolves in the true sense of the word: (evolves to be better).

I am proof. A 90s kid who in her teens was such a stubborn jerk when someone told her that using "gay" as a negative word is a slur, refused to stop saying it for maybe a few more years. And I am very sorry, not just because I now have multiple diagnoses to validate my own lived experience of disability. That all came after I changed my language for the better.

We grew up saying all the things everyone agrees is not ok to say now.

The r-word etc. Autistic was a slur too.

It was all just commonplace. (It's no wonder many of us from the millennial generation are left feeling kinda screwed up)

It was Bad, ok.

(If you think that's horrible and irredeemable, well what can I say except think about how we schizospec feel still being called a rampant amount of names and slurs, having our symptoms made into "cute" TikTok trends to be joked about incessantly - but we believe and know you have the propensity to change, it's just an attitude/ignorance thing)

But here's the thing, the point of this post:

Language evolved.

We are better than that now.

Majority of us stopped saying what are now largely considered slurs years ago. Now it's just the internalized ableism to work on.

So why can't we as a society agree to stop using slurs against schizospec?

Why can't it be just as "cringe" to pick on/bully some of the most vulnerable people in society - schizospec?

And stop saying people are schizospec just because they are bigots or you disagree with them, that's not how it works.

[obesericewrites]

So uhm

hi

I'm feeling hungry for angst.. Already asked in another blog but that's even better in 2 blogs! im hungry

so since we already got MC die in front of the ROs. how about the vice versa?

what would be the last words the ROs would say to MC when in the verge of dying after an attack or something similar? <3

Oh honey, you asked this at the right time. Angst time for everyone.

M: They feel nothing but worry. It was…comforting. To not feel the cold fear that was just in their veins seconds ago. Perhaps that was one of the stages many felt during death, accepting the unchangeable. Distantly they feel the MC's hands scrambling over their stomach from where they lay. Oh, yes…the MC was with them.

Blearily, their head falls to the side so they can stare at the MC. They were talking so fast, that they barely understood what they were saying. But the distress was so loud it overwhelmed them. “…I can’t-….help me, M….stay with me..” They groaned as their arms felt as if they weighed a thousand tons.

“..Mc..?” They slur, their vision blurring. They worry they felt was growing stronger as a new thought crossed their mind as they could feel themselves falling. “Mc..listen to me…”

“Oh gods, what’s wrong?! Talk to me, M! Just talk to me, c’mon, help is coming!”

“..m’fm…take care of—!” Their eyes snap open as their sentence gets caught off as a rough cough escapes them. Once they start, they can’t stop until the taste of iron fills their mouth and pours out of it.

“M! Here, lay on your side!” They heave as the MC carefully nudges them on their side. “..m’no…MC…” They feel two soft hands cup their face, M looks up at them. Frowning behind the mask at the sight of tears streaming down their face. “Come on, keep your eyes open, for me? Okay? For me. Keep them open.”

They shook their head in their hands, they needed to say this.

“…I want you to….take care of….,” they start, eyes fluttering close as everything begins to fade. Then as if it takes all of their strength, they softly finish. “..Dawn for me…please..”

Just as darkness overtakes them, their ears ring at the sounds of the MC's screams.

Then it’s all quiet.

S: This was familiar to them. Bleeding on the ground with a wound from a battle was nothing new. Not the feeling of life draining from them nor the fight to stay awake. No, the thing that was new was not being alone. They worked alongside the MC, both of their hands pushing against their left shoulder wound.

They roar in pain when the MC's hands roughly shove a tore part of their shirt on the wound, “easy! Shite!” Instantly the MCs hands soften but are still firm against them. “Sorry! I'm sorry! Just stay awake, ok?” S can’t help but grin a bit, “as long as you keep taking, good looking, I’ll be up for hours.”

“You're an ass.” The grin on their face melts away at the wet sob in your voice. They grimace as the pain in their shoulder slowly begins to numb, that only meant one thing. The realization made them relax completely, looking up at the MC with a soft expression.

“Hey…Darlin? Can I ask you something?” They rasp, clearing their throat a bit.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Is it…” They laugh at the sound of their own voice, breathless and wet. God, this was embarrassing. Dying with the MC by their side…. they are never gonna let this go. “Is it too late for me to ask for something?” They watch the MCs face go through a number of emotions before they put themselves closer to S. “No, no—it’s…go ahead.”

“Can I get a kiss goodbye? For old time sake…” They say, reaching out with their bloodied hand to gently cup the MCs face. Their face was wet with both tears and S’s blood. They nod against their hand. S can’t keep their eyes open any longer when the MC leans in. “Yeah..yeah…okay.”

Just before the lights go out, they feel a soft peck on their lips.

Then they feel nothing at all.

B: They couldn’t stop shaking. Their eyes were blurry and their hands were wet. Unpleasantly wet. They could feel their own ribs as they put more pressure on the wound. It made them gag against the large amount of saliva in their mouth. Wait. The iron in their mouth wasn’t….what saliva tasted like. They spat it out and brought their free hand to their mouth and saw red.

“T…that isn’t good.” They gargle, letting their hand fall limp on their chest as they stare up at the sky. The MC was with them. They told them to leave. They didn’t want the MC to see them like this. “It’s okay, B. I’ve got you, the—..the bleeding is becoming manageable.”

They knew the MC was lying. They had a tell, especially with situations like this. Talking too much and their hands scrambling across Bs chest. B felt their own tears streaming down their face, they didn’t want to die. Not yet. They wanted their mothers. They wanted the pain to stop.

“Mc…c’mon..look at me.” They smile, staring at the MC who immediately hunches over them.

“Yes? What’s wrong?”

“It…I’ve never realized…” They pant, B coughs loudly. Breathing was difficult. They couldn’t breathe. Each breath was short and so painful. Gods, it hurt. “I’ve never realized how pretty your eyes are…” They grin, forcing through the pain to gently drag their fingers across the MCs chin.

They were crying, they both were sobbing now. “Hey, don’t cry. You’ll make me cry, then we’ll both be a mess.” They laugh, they chose to ignore their own tears that spilled from their eyes. Instead focusing all on the MC…for one last time. Just before their tongue goes heavy in their mouth, they slur one last thing to the MC. “I love you.”

Just before everything fades, they hear something. Barely above a whisper. Before they can catch it.

Everything is gone.

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Rage Rising - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Words: 1861

Putzie walked along the familiar road only half paying attention to the cracks in the paving slabs and weeds poking through. Despite it being late spring in California, it wasn’t a bright sunny day like it usually was. He could hear Doody and Sonny blabbering on, and he would join them if he wasn’t dreading the school day before it had even begun. 

Danny and Kenickie’s fight had shaken most of them. They’d never fought in the entire time he’d known them. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was the beginning of the end. Graduation wasn’t too far away and he couldn’t be the only one thinking that their close group of friends were going to break apart. 

But he was broken from his thoughts before they could spiral any further. They’d reached Kenickie’s house and the usual tense peace that they were used to was broken by a shouting match.

“I know what I saw Kenickie!” A lower, slightly slurred voice bellowed.

“I don’t know, okay? I’ve told you a thousand times that I don’t know, why can’t you just believe me?” Kenickie yelled back.

He emerged from the doorway still shrugging on his jacket. His hair wasn’t in its manicured pompadore style it usually was.

“Well, why should I believe you when you’re the one who’s been denying you’ve been getting these letters,” his dad said. “You denying it’s only making it more true!”

“That’s the first one, I’ve told you that!”

“Stop lying to me!”

“I’m not, I keep telling you that but if you’re not going to listen then why should I care? I’ll see you later, or I won’t, I just don’t care anymore.” Kenickie said.

He went to turn away but was stopped when his dad pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of paper. Kenickie didn’t move. In fact, Putzie could almost see hesitation as his eyes locked onto the piece of paper.

“Well, if you’re not going to tell me, if you don’t care, then you won’t care if I do this.”

His dad held the paper above Kenickie’s head. Kenickie let out a soft ‘No’, however, his dad evidently didn’t want to listen anymore. In one go, he ripped the paper into four equal pieces and dropped them onto the porch.

“Why would you-” Kenickie started as he collapsed to pick up the pieces at his feet. “How could you-”

“So, you do care,” his dad said simply. “And you care about her, but don’t care enough about me to tell me what I want.”

He shook his head. Kenickie looked up at him, at how he towered over him.

“Fine, but don’t come back here tonight,” he slurred again as he staggered back into the house. “Go and find her if you care so much.”

The moment ended. They stood there for a second watching him. Kenickie could be touchy at times, and they knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t like that they just saw that. Not that that would change the fact that they had.

After kneeling on the floor cradling the paper, he sniffed, wiping his nose on his jacket, and stood up. He placed the torn pieces in his pocket and turned around.

“What are you three doing here?” He asked.

“We came for a ride,” Doody said, gesturing to the car in the drive.

Kenickie didn’t say anything. He held his gaze on the three of them before shrugging and walking to the car. No one moved at first, not until they got an exasperated look, and climbed into the car, pulling out of the drive and pretending not to notice Kenickie’s dad peeking through the blinds.

~~~~

“No, I’m telling you, I’ve never seen them like that,” Doody said. “I know they argue but that was something else.”

They were at lunch. The group, sans Kenickie, were hanging onto his every word as they tried to figure out what that argument was about.

“I think they were on about some letter?” Sonny said. “I don’t know what was in it but it was enough for his dad to kick him out.”

Danny sat silently at the end of the table. He was definitely listening but there was a look on his face that told them that he knew more. He wasn’t sharing what he knew, however, and Sandy had an inkling that it had to do with their close bond that Rizzo told her about.

The conversation stopped again. Kenickie had spotted them, and was close enough to hear what they were on about.

“Having fun?” He said with a scowl.

Danny reached for him, his face screaming with guilt, “Nick-”

“No, it’s fine, carry on, why should I care that you’re discussing my personal life like some tv show,”

And with that, he walked away.

Danny got up to follow him but Sandy stopped him with a touch on his shoulder. She could see his heartbreak the same as the other night, after their argument. She’d said that someone needed to talk to Kenickie, Danny had failed, to some degree, so maybe she could put her hat in the ring.

~~~~

As most people were at lunch, the corridors were mostly empty, so it was easy to find Kenickie. He'd curled himself up in a corner near the science labs. If she listened closely, she could hear him crying.

"Kenickie?" She said.

He looked up. His red rimmed eyes told her that she was right.

"No offence, Sandy’s, but you're not the person I was hoping to see."

She carried on anyway. When she reached him, she made sure to look down with a smile. He shuffled up with a reluctant huff, he didn't look at her.

"You were hoping it was Danny, right?"

Now he looked up at her. In his eyes was shock, and a tiny bit of fear.

"I'm not stupid, you know," she said, then added. "That and Rizzo told me how close you two are."

He didn't look any less shocked. The fear grew in his eyes.

"And about your mum." She added quietly.

He didn't answer. Some of the fear lessened in his eyes. His body was still highly strung, tightly tucked into a ball like a child afraid of a storm.

"Fine, I'll tell you," he said.

She shifted to face him more. Worrying the chapped skin of his lip, he took a moment before he spoke.

"So, Rizzo told you about how my mom walked out on me-" he stopped, he seemed to ponder something before shaking his head and carrying on.

"Which I wasn't supposed to tell you."

He gave a small snort of laughter, "You're in for it, then."

Sandy laughed along too but his face soon fell and they were back to tense, half-filled silence as he thought of exactly what to say.

"My mom sends me birthday cards, she sent letters when she first walked out but I think she worried my dad would find out and know where to find her if he read them, so she just stuck to birthday cards.

"But my dad kinda knew, subconsciously, so when he’d get drunk, and he's a sentimental drunk too, he wails on me about where she is," he gulped and looked down as his eyes went watery. "He never gets physical, but it's-it's scary and the only person I've ever gone to is Danny."

"And a few days ago I got this letter from my mom, no address, so she either actually dropped it off or got someone to, and my dad found it before I did and started yelling at me about whether there were more and why she left-"

A tear dropped down his face. He furiously went to wipe it off, his jaw tense as he tried not to cry, to show he was vulnerable to this in any way.

"-and I went to ring Danny and I got no answer."

Sandy put the pieces into place. Danny had had dinner at her's one night in the week. She’d been in Danny's life more, and without knowing about their bond, must have changed things around from what they'd been for years.

"So, you think it's my fault?" She asked.

"Yes, no, I don't know anymore," he said. "That's what I thought on Saturday when we had that bonfire."

"And that’s what you and Danny were arguing about?"

"Yeah, I, erm, this is kinda awkward, I said some nasty stuff about you, and he put me in my place, but I went on about what I just told you, and I was so mad that I didn't give him a chance to, I don't know, help me? You know, talk it through?"

He ran his fingers through his hair and settled the base of his palms against his eyes.

"And things with my dad only got worse because he's drinking himself stupid, it's the weekend, you know, so he's crying to me about my mom and getting mad when he's sober and the one person I want to go to I can't because I couldn't keep my stupid mouth shut and we had a big fight."

Everything fell into place. The argument the others saw earlier, how dismissive and aloof he'd acted. What he didn't know is how sad Danny had been acting. If Kenickie thought he was mad, he couldn't be more wrong.

"I think you should talk to him," she said.

When he gave her an eye roll, she carried on, "No really, Danny’s just worried for you, we all are."

He sniffed and played with his hands.

"No you’re not."

"Yes, they are, they all are, Rizzo, Danny, me."

They met eyes.

"You're worried about me?"

"I mean, yeah, you're acting even more cold than normal, and for good reason but you're just shutting everyone out."

He gestured between them, "But I've been nothing but mean to you, on purpose-"

"Doesn't mean I can't worry," she said, then turned to face him fully. "Look, we may not get on but Danny cares about both of us a lot, so maybe for his sake, we agree to get on a bit more?"

He shrugged his shoulders and nodded. He looked away again.

"And you go and talk to him, if not for you, then for me? It'll show him that he doesn't have to choose between us to have us in his life."

Still averting his gaze, he waited a moment or two before nodding and extended a hand. He didn't spit on it for once.

"Friends for Danny?"

"Friends for Danny."

She got up and, still holding his hand, pulled him up too. They walked back to the canteen in silence. As they entered, the group looked at them. Danny seemed to hold his breath.

"I'm sorry for the other day," Kenickie said, Danny let out a sigh of relief. "And for how I've been acting."

"Thanks, man, thanks,"

And everything seemed to go back to normal. Sandy and Kenickie fell to each side of Danny, the rest of the T-Birds and Pink Ladies bickered. And Sandy realised that Danny smiled for the first time all weekend.

I've had this written since I posted the first chapter but then I just procrastinated posting and then started my prompt challenge but here it is! Thanks for reading!

[midnightmusings-et-moi]

mirrorball

Remus Lupin x femReader fluff

A/n: this idea came to me while listening to Mirrorball by Taylor Swift- it’s such a 🥰 song which I want to fall in love to so here’s a fic manifesting that lmao (also the gif isn’t mine;credits to the owner)

Warnings: kissing (?), Sirius being suggestive (what’s new) so 13 + , slight insecurity on part of the reader, FLUFFFFF, will make you want to attend the Yule Ball really badly

The stairs leading down to the great hall were carpeted with a luxurious royal blue. The marble railings had pearls and holly twisting around them and the air carried a serene scent of honeysuckle. Chandeliers were suspended above, casting a warm light on the delighted students. Hogwarts really was beautiful during the Yule Ball.

Taking a deep breath, you let the atmosphere calm your nerves. You straightened out your white silk dress that cut off a little above your knees in the front and cascaded down to the ground at the back. The straps closed in on where your neck and shoulders met, forming a gracefully simple halter design. Lilly had convinced you to let her do your hair- she was probably more excited than you about the fact that your crush, Remus Lupin, had asked to take you as his date to the Yule Ball. You were glad you succumbed to her incessant pleads because your hair was tied up in an elegant bun and had tiny pearls scattered across the auburn locks.

Ever since third year potions when you and Remus happened to sit together, you knew you were starting to really fall for the brown haired boy. You doubted he felt the same for you though- he was intelligent, attractive, kind and...perfect. There were so many gorgeous girls in Hogwarts so what made you special to him? Lilly however, would practically yell at you for being so “blind”. “YOU BLIND IDIOT HOW DO YOU NOT SEE HOW HE SMILES SO GOOFISHLY LARGE AT YOU?! REMUS IS HEAD OVER HEELS FOR YOU BUT YOU BOTH ARE BLOODY COWARDS TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!” she would often say.

When he asked you to the ball, you felt hopeful about things...maybe just maybe he felt something too? Or maybe he wanted to take you as a friend? All these questions buzzed through your head as you slowly made yourself down the stairs. Your fingers grazed the holly clad railings as a swarm of hippogriffs raced inside your stomach. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you reached to bottom of the stairs where the two of you had agreed to meet. You stretched your neck and scanned the room, searching for the boy you had crushed on for nearly two years.

There he was, standing with James, Sirius and Peter who were all laughing merrily at a joke. Remus looked breathtakingly handsome. He was the tallest amongst them all, his light brown hair that you had always desired to stroke was pushed back, his dress robes were navy blue and fit him perfectly. His face was etched with the scars of his secret which you admired- you always felt honored by the fact that you were one of the people he trusted enough to tell. Remus’ eyes sparkled as he chuckled at something James had said. 

 All of a sudden you felt your breathing quicken and your heart ache. You couldn’t do this. ‘Am i stupid?’ You thought to yourself, ‘Why would he ever like me when he could have any girl he wants? I’m just an ordinary girl- he deserves better than me.’ Consternation clouded your mind and right then you had resolved to go back to your dorm and if not you would probably throw up on him in a state of anxiety. Now that would be embarrassing. It isn’t like Remus would miss you anyways right? He could just get another girl at the last moment to be his date- and that lucky girl would all too willingly oblige. 

Just as you turned on your heel to go back up, you felt a warm hand wrap around your shoulder. You turned you head in confusion and you eyes were met with sparkling hazel ones- it was Remus. “ Y/n! You look gorgeous-wow” His sweet yet husky voice rang out, his eyes taking you in. Heat rose to your cheeks at his words. ‘He’s just being nice he doesn’t mean it obviously’ you told yourself, not letting yourself get hopeful just to be let down . “Oh uh hi there Remus. Um thanks you too” you greeted, slurring your words out, flustered. His lips curved upwards in a smile and his hand left your shoulder. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking if it was okay to take your hand. You nodded slowly, still in a daze. Remus’ large hand softly enveloped yours as he lead you to his friends. 

Sirius looked away from the girl on his arm who’s name was Marlene. She smiled at you cordially and complimented your dress. Sirius’ greeting on the other hand was well- unique. To expect anything else would be out of the question though ; you had known him ever since you were seven because of boring pure blood family banquets you were forced by your parents to attend. The two of you always sought each other’s company instead of those other stuck up, nauseating witches and wizards present . “y/l/n! good day!” he said, mockingly bowing. “Don’t you look ravishing, little one” You rolled your eyes jokingly at him, trying to seem calm and respond like you normally would, “Yes hello to you too Sirius.” He joked about you him being your mentor in regards to sneaking away and pranking slimy, prejudiced, pure bloods. 

“Hi y/n how are you” James greeted you sort of distractedly, looking around you. “Prongs! stop looking for Lilly jeez she said no to you five times i seriously doubt she’s gonna change her mind now” Sirius said exasperatedly. “James was hoping Lilly would be with you” Remus explained, chuckling lightly in with a mocking undertone. James crossed his arms at Remus’ taunting, “Oh don’t pretend like you weren’t worrying your arse about y/n ditching you because she was 2 minutes late” Remus scowled at his friend, red staining his cheeks.

“Awww” you giggled, sort of relieved that he actually wanted you there. So maybe there was nothing to worry about. ‘Just relax’ you told yourself. Remus returned you smile still blushing and gazed at you for a bit until he was broken from his reverie by Sirius voice. “Moony why do you look like you’re mentally undressing y/n- save it for after the ball when you can actually do it” he said winking suggestively, causing the whole group to break out in a chorus of laughter. Remus scowled at Sirius, shoving his shoulder playfully. Your face turned red as you shoved him too “Do you always have to be so immature and crude” you remarked, shaking your head in feigned disappointed. Sirius stuck his tongue out at you. 

You felt Remus grasp your hand, “Let’s get out of here before i get embarrassed even more” He murmured. “Let’s go dance” You suggested before racing into the great hall, hand in hand, the both of you chuckling at you trying not to trip in your heels. The great hall was decked out in gorgeous Christmas decor- enchanted snowflakes fell to the ground, pine trees were adorned with bobbles and garlands and a thousand candles floated around, casting light over the formally dressed students and teachers. A merry chatter floated in the air, instantly having you excited for what the night would entail. 

As you both made your way to the crowd, the band hoisted on the blue platform started playing Killer Queen by Queen. All the students including Remus and you starting cheering and dancing, full of energy. You grasped both his hands, reveling in the moment, jumping and dancing together, singing the lyrics till your throats were sore. As the chorus rang out, Remus pretended to be holding a mic to his mouth and sang the lyrics to you. You had very rarely seen this playfully goofy side of him and you absolutely adored it. Clenching your stomach which was aching from the waves of laughter that had overcome you, you fell to the ground, causing Remus to join you in the laughter. As his shoulders shook with uncontrollable chuckles, he reached his hand down to you, which you took. In that moment, you had completely forgotten about your anxiety and insecurities. Being here, laughing and dancing with him was enough. Nothing could be more perfect that watching his gorgeous face overcome with joy. 

A few moments passed, allowing everyone to calm down and catch their breaths until the soft tune of a piano being played could be heard. All the couples took their places on the floor and started swaying slowly. “Did I tell you how amazing you look tonight?” the brown haired boy asked you as he lightly placed his hands on your waist, guiding you to the notes of the music. Maybe he did mean it? Your heart fluttered at the thought. The mirror ball above rotated slowly, casting glittering reflections on the both of you. “You look quite wonderful yourself” you said as you hesitantly placed both of your hands on top of his shoulders and stepped closer to him. You gazed into his hazel eyes, searching for something you had wanted for a long time. He gazed right back, never breaking contact. Remus’ eyes glittered in the warm light and within them you identified happiness. Yes that was definitely happiness...but there was something more. Remus’ calloused fingers were brought up to push a stray strand of hair out of your face, his hand grazing your skin ever so slightly, again giving rise to the hippogriffs in your stomach but this time they were conjured from joy rather than nerves.

You had not realized how long the two of you were completely entranced by each other until the music came to a halt. The both of you were broken away from your thoughts, but remained holding each other. Then Remus spoke, never leaving your eyes, “Y/n... I don’t know how to say this. I uh I have never done this before” He said, a look of hesitance falling over his face. He took a deep breath before continuing. “You’re so wonderful in every aspect fathomable and I really like you”. Remus scanned your face, worry ghosting his expressions as you remained silent. Your face was blank, but internally you were processing what just happened. “I’m sorry i shouldn’t have-” he started, taking his hands away from your waist, but then you leaned up, taking his face in your hands and crashed your lips onto his. 

They tasted more marvelous than you could have imagined- like fire whisky and chocolate. All the day dreams you had gotten lost in during classes had finally become a reality. He kissed right back placing his hands on your lower back to bring you closer to him. Your hands trailed from his jaw to his neck, feeling the scarred, warm skin under your fingers- it was perfect, he was perfect. As you deepened the kiss you felt him smile against your lips before pulling away and placing his forehead on yours, reveling in the moment. “I really like you too” you whispered, your breath hot against his lips. 

Cheers erupted from around the two of you and you turned your head to see the three marauders and a group of students clapping and cheering the both of you on. “MOONY YOU DID IT!” you heard James yell out, a proud smile plastered across his face as Sirius cheered again. Your gaze fell on a particular scarlet haired girl who was jumping enthusiastically- Lilly. You smiled wide as the two of you exchanged excited looks. “I told you” she mouthed before blowing a kiss at you. 

Remus rubbed your back, pulling you into his side,bringing his mouth to your ear, “Wanna go up to the common room?” You nodded, pecking his cheek once more. You could not believe that he actually liked you- you could explode with happiness. When the two of you had reached the doors leading to the staircase where it was more quiet you stopped to take your heels off that were killing your poor feet. Before you could do so, Remus swiftly swooped you up in his arms, “No need, i can just carry you up” he said flashing you a large grin. You giggled, threading your arms around his neck and with your free hand carded your fingers through his soft brown hair. “I’ve always wanted to do that” you admitted. He laughed in response. “We can sit by the fireplace, I’ll get us some snacks and we can talk. We can also do more of this” he swooped down to plant a lingering, sweet kiss on your lips. “How does that sound?” 

“Mmmm that sounds perfect” You replied, resting your head against his chest. This felt like home. And the best part was that this wasn’t a dream- it was all reality.

Hi there! I hope you enjoyed. If you have any suggestions for what I should write next, let me know!

[sundaysundaes]

Remember Me

Mark Lee X Reader X Lee Donghyuck (Haechan) | Smut, Fluff, Angst | 14k | Soulmate AU, Friends-to-Lovers AU

CHAPTER 2 OF 2. Part 1 is here.

Summary: “The mysterious cuts and bruises that suddenly appear are actually injuries that your soulmate has obtained, and you share the same marks on your skin.” For Donghyuck and Mark, it's not just an old saying, it's not merely a concept, it's the truth. But as they grow older in a world where everyone puts their faith in the marks that attach their hearts to their soulmates, they have to stop believing.

Notes: This used to be an EXO Fanfic of mine called Remember Me but I want to share this story with my NCT family as well, so I rewrote several things and added more scenes to fit Mark and Haechan’s personalities better.

10

It takes Lee Donghyuck approximately ten times to ask Mark Lee to join their soccer game before he realizes that maybe Mark just really hates playing soccer. Or just doing sports in general, for that matter.

“I’ve told you, I don’t want to!” Mark shouts, cheeks reddening in anger. Donghyuck holds up both hands in the air, backing away. Mark is twenty-one years-old while Donghyuck is a year younger. Since Mark needed to be treated at the facility for his injuries back when he was in high school, he had to repeat another year and so he registered late in his new university in Seoul. Seeing how he’s a freshman like him with no friend other than Zhong Chenle in college, Donghyuck thinks they should get along better. Donghyuck has always been friendly and nice to anyone around him—Yukhei would agree on this straight away—but sadly, not everyone replies to him in the same way.

“Okay, okay,” Donghyuck says, laughing softly at Mark’s little burst of anger. “Chill, man. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought that maybe you wanted to play because, you know, you kept looking at us—”

“I wasn’t looking,” Mark harshly responds, tearing his gaze away from the other boy to glance at the girl who owns his heart since forever. “Well, I wasn’t actually looking at you anyway.”

Donghyuck furrows his brows at Mark’s last line that’s almost too quiet to hear. He’s pretty sure that Mark kept stealing glances at the field a moment earlier, so if it weren’t because of Donghyuck and Yukhei playing soccer with their upperclassmen, who was he staring at?

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck says anyway, and he means it even when his tone sounds too playful. “Well, if you ever change your mind, you can just come over, okay?”

“I don’t do soccer,” Mark bitterly responds as he picks up his book back and places it on his lap. “Now can you leave me alone, please? I want to read in silence.”

Donghyuck scrunches up his nose at his attitude but decides to be the better man. “Alright,” he says, giving him the space he needs. “My name’s Lee Donghyuck, by the way. Nice to meet you, Grumpy Pants!” he exclaims with a cheeky grin before he runs back to the field. Mark Lee is unapproachable, but that only makes him more interesting to Lee Donghyuck.

***

11

It takes eleven minutes after the whistle has been blown for Donghyuck to score his third goal that day and she cheers loudly with her hands in the air before she realizes that she’s supposed to stare at her crush secretly. She clears her throat and tries to calm her racing heart as she sits back on the bleachers. Her eyes are still following the boy with the number 66 on the back of his jersey and her heart warms when she sees how his fluffy brown hair flutters under the wind.

That boy’s name is Lee Donghyuck. He’s one year younger than she is and he’s probably the brightest, and the funniest person she has ever met. He’s a bit weird, though, because every time he talks to her, he always speaks like he has known her for his whole life. And he does look familiar somehow, but she can’t remember why. 

Last spring was the first time she met him. She was looking around the campus’ ground, getting to know the environment better before she enrolled in the university by the next semester. And then a ball hit her on the head, making her tumble to the ground.

“Oh, shit! Sorry! Are you okay?” A boy ran to her with a familiar smile and beautiful sun-kissed skin that glistened slightly with sweat. He helped her stand on her own feet and kept apologizing for two times more until he saw her face and began to shout her name over and over again, voice getting louder each time. 

“Holy shit, it’s really you! I can’t believe this!” Without permission, he suddenly leaned in and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off her feet as he laughed wholeheartedly. “Jesus Christ, Noona, it’s been years!” He was crushing her with his hug and she felt strange, afraid even. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you again! I’ve been looking for you every—”

Out of fear and discomfort, she hastily pushed him away. “D-don’t touch me!” she said, backing away and a wounded look fell upon his face. 

“N-noona, it’s me,” he said, attempting to calm her down by reaching out a hand. “It’s me, Donghyuck. We used to play together, remember? At the beach? In Jeju?”

Frowning was her response and nothing more, not remembering his identity at all and that made her sad because that boy seemed like he was really hoping for her to remember him. “I’m—I’m sorry but I don’t know you,” she said and the boy seemed heartbroken for a few seconds before he shook his head and smiled brightly once more.

“Oh wow, then this must’ve been super awkward.” He laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head before he offered her his hand. She could tell he was shaken up by it but he didn’t make it seem obvious. “I’m Lee Donghyuck. I’m sorry for being so weird. You just remind me so much of my old friend. But I got your name right, didn’t I?”

She nodded her head once, shaking his hand. “How do you know my name?”

“Let’s just say I’m a bit psychic,” Donghyuck replied, grinning boyishly and something stirred in her heart. She felt like she knew him but at the same time, she didn’t. It was weird but Donghyuck never worried about such a matter. He kept on talking to her, sporting his cheery grins and beautiful eye-smile as he did and his presence somehow filled the pang that had been so hollow in her heart. 

“Yo, Sleepyhead!” Wong Yukhei calls as he scurries over to her side. He’s breathing hard, beads of sweat forming and rolling down his temple. The man is 183cm tall with silky dark brown hair and a voice deeper than any man she’s ever known. “What’cha doin’, girl? Been here long?”

“Hey, Yukhei,” she greets with a smile, offering him her canned orange juice and Yukhei drinks it in one gulp without hesitation. “Just hanging out. Did you guys win?” she asks, trying to pretend like she wasn’t paying attention to the game (which is somewhat true because she only paid attention to Donghyuck).

“Oh, come on, we all know you were watching the game,” Yukhei says as he flops down next to her seat. “Or were you watching me?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Wong Yukhei is always blatant with his flirting but nobody ever takes him seriously. It’s common knowledge that Yukhei never wants to have a relationship with anyone other than his Soulmate. People tend to date anyone they want while they wait for their Soulmates to appear but Yukhei is a different case. Yukhei only wants the girl who owns the same scar as he has on his wrist.

“Hey, just a friendly advice here,” Yukhei says, “I know you really really really like Hyuck but fucking hell, woman, do you really need to stare at him all day long with that dopey, lovesick look on your face?”

“Hey!” She hisses, slapping his back. “Shut up, okay? And I wasn’t staring at him. I was watching the game.”

“Sureeee,” Yukhei slurs the last syllable. “Then what’s the score? No peeking at the scoreboard.”

She can’t answer. Seeing how Yukhei keeps on mocking her, she eventually sighs and buries her face in her hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“So obvious. Too obvious, even.”

“Do you think he knows?”

“Honey, I think even my grandma knows you have a crush on him.”

“Oh my God,” she sobs to her hands and when she lifts her face, her cheeks are in flame. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I can’t date him anyway, Not until I’m sure that he’s my Soulmate.”

Yukhei furrows his brows. “I didn’t know you were like me.”

“I just think it’s a safer option, you know?” She utters, huffing to the air. “Why would you waste your time dating someone who’s not your Soulmate when you know it’s not gonna work out in the end? Better choose the one so you won’t hurt anyone.”

Yukhei nods proudly and pats her head. “I feel you, Sister. I feel you.”

“Shut up, you’re gross,” she says, punching Yukhei playfully by his shoulder but the said man groans loudly and dramatically acts like she just struck his arm with a javelin. Yukhei stands up and barks, “Sure, when it’s Wong Yukhei, you go around and punch him like a sag of potatoes but when it’s Lee Donghyuck, you worship him like a freaking Greek God! Real fair, Sweetheart, real fair!” Then he throws a flying kiss toward her direction before she has the chance to actually kill Wong Yukhei. She just hopes that Donghyuck didn’t hear him.

She sits back on the bleachers, her heart thumping loudly but Donghyuck never stares back. He’s always like that when he’s too focused on his game. It’s part of his charm, really. 

It’s only Mark Lee who does, staring at her from across the field. He’s a fellow freshman she once met at the library, helping her with finding her books. She always thinks he looks kind of familiar as well but she doesn’t know why. Perhaps some kind of a déjà vu?

She didn’t see him sitting there before (her eyes were too focused on Donghyuck, like always) and Mark never really goes out of his class at break times anyway. He used to always spend his days in the library, working there and reading suspense or science-fiction novels even when he’s read them a thousand times already. This is the first time she’s ever seen him out on the field. Perhaps he’s watching the game too?

She smiles and waves her hand at him. “Hey, library guy!” she mouths, grinning but Mark never mirrors her smile in the same way. He always seems sad, she notices, like he’s trying to achieve something but something forbids him from doing so. She wonders what he craves so badly that he has to force himself away from enjoying his life like he’s supposed to. 

***

12

It’s twelve past twelve on a Sunday afternoon when Zhong Chenle passes a watermelon to Mark’s lap and speaks, “Bro, I know it’s not my business but your ex-girlfriend has a huge crush on that kid Lee Donghyuck.”

With a knife in his hand, ready to slice the watermelon into small pieces, Mark freezes and looks at Chenle with heavy pressure in his eyes.

“Whoa, dude!” Chenle immediately backs away, gulping when he realizes he just made Mark upset when the man is holding a knife in his hand. “Be careful with that shit, okay? You look like you’re about to kill someone!”

“Not someone, just you,” Mark replies, looking away and begins to slice the fruit. 

Chenle takes his seat back with more caution in his steps, just in case. “Look, Mark, I don’t want to make you mad.”

“A bit too late for that,” Mark replies, jabbing the knife into the fruit, and Chenle almost shrieks, fidgeting on his seat. The Chinese boy winces a little as he prepares to receive a strike from his friend but it never came. Instead, his friend throws him a small smile and Chenle knows Mark’s been kidding around. Chenle can never understand his sense of humor.

“You have a terrible sense of humor, has anyone ever told you that?” He calms his heart down. “You’re still not over her, huh?” Chenle asks, receiving a freshly cut watermelon from the slightly shorter guy. Mark doesn’t answer him and instead, he grabs his own piece of watermelon and strolls over to lounge on the couch. The sun is blazing outside, sitting on its throne, and burns everything considering it’s the middle of summer and even with this thin layer of clothes he’s wearing, Mark just can’t stop sweating. 

“Dude?” Chenle calls, following him to the couch, and steals a glance at him. Mark is just there, sitting and staring at the fruit without doing anything much other than breathing. “Hello? Earth to Mark, you alright there, buddy?”

Mark slowly moves his gaze back at him and for the first time in forever, he pulls on a gentle, but heartbreaking smile. “I would’ve gotten over her if I could but it’s hard.”

Chenle hums quietly. “You guys loved each other that much, huh?”

“Loved?” Mark chuckles, proffering his piece of watermelon to his friend’s hand in case Chenle wants more. He does. “It wasn’t just love. She was my everything.” The Chinese boy snorts at that but he can actually sense the truth behind Mark’s words, which is why Chenle chooses to stay mute. “I was about to propose to her, you know?” Mark confesses, crestfallen. “We were nothing but stupid brats going on about love and crappy things like that and I had this stupid ring with me that I wanted to give her. I was about to make a promise to be with her forever. I didn’t care whether she was my Soulmate or not. I didn’t care if we were too young to be engaged. I just loved her so much—I still do but…”

But she forgot about you, Chenle wants to say but he decides to keep himself in silence. While Mark was hurting physically during that period after the accident, she was losing her mind. She had recurring nightmares and she lost almost every part of her memories. She lost her childhood, she lost her friends, and most of all, she lost him. She couldn’t see Mark. He never existed in her world. Her loss of memories had helped her to recover quicker than him and her parents also made her go to many therapy sessions in her last few months at the hospital. She’s now healthy and happy and Mark is grateful for that but, of course, a huge part of him died with her that night before the first snow fell upon their smiles.

Chenle forms a question after a while. “Why don’t you try and approach her again, then? You know, start over. Maybe she could fall in love with you again.”

Mark absentmindedly touches the skin around his nape. “It’s better this way,” he says, smiling weakly to the ground. “She’s happier without me in her life.”

“But you’re hurting,” Chenle counters. “And I’m not sure you’re gonna get better tomorrow if you keep being like this.”

“You’re right, I’m never gonna get better.” Mark laughs softly. “I’m gonna remember this forever and I’m gonna live through this every day. When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I remember is how I agreed to go with her to town that night. If I hadn’t gone to her grandmother’s place, if I hadn’t gone with her outside—”

Chenle shakes his head. “You didn’t know what would happen—”

“It doesn’t matter!” Mark shouts breathlessly, his hand going over his heart. “It happened and I lost her. That’s it, Chenle. Nothing’s going to change that.”

Chenle looks conflicted and hesitant for a few seconds before he reaches out and pats Mark on the shoulder. “Everything will get better,” he says, trying to spread joy to his friend. “You’ll forget her when you meet your Soulmate. Try to live your life like me, buddy. No good will come from worrying over things that have been done.”

Mark returns his smile but his eyes stay cold.

His dreams always consist of her smile and how her eyes once turned crescents when she whispered, “I love you too, Mark Lee.” His dreams always reel in the way she held him close that night, how she wanted to make him feel happy, how she wanted to be with him, how much she missed and loved him.

It never happens in real life anymore. Mark Lee never existed in her life that way. And that is why Mark stops waking up with a smile on his face.

“Chenle,” Mark starts, “Are you friends with that guy?”

“Who, Donghyuck? Yeah, he’s cool. Gets pretty whiny and annoying most of the times, but—”

“There’s something I want you to tell him.”

“O… kay…” Chenle is startled by the sudden gravitas in his tone. “What is it?”

“She believes in Soulmates,” Mark says, smiling to himself and somehow Chenle can see the disappointment and frustration in his eyes. “She has a scar on the back of her neck. So if he doesn’t have the same scar, it’s better for him to just stay away since he’ll end up hurting them both in the future.”

Chenle analyzes his friend’s expression but he’s still left clueless. “And you’re okay if he turns out to be the one for her?”

Mark glances at him, smiling while his eyes show nothing but a pang of guilt and pain. “At this point, Chenle,” he murmurs, “I actually wish for it to happen.”

***

13

“So she believes in Soulmates too, huh?” Donghyuck asks, his shoulders are slumped forward in disappointment. It’s Friday the 13th and while everyone is feeling spooked out over the infamous urban legend, Donghyuck is feeling upset over an entirely different reason. “Damn it!”

Yukhei snorts. “Dude, everyone believes in Soulmates; it’s only you who don’t. It’s basically, like, written in the law or something.” When Donghyuck shoots him a look, Yukhei just huffs. “All I’m saying is it’s not just a myth, dude. This shit happens.”

Donghyuck knows that but he’s really interested in her—well, he’s always been interested in her, since back then when they were young even. Donghyuck didn’t think he’d be able to meet her again but well, luck is apparently on his side. Not that much, though, because she forgot about what they used to have. Donghyuck learned along the way that she’d gotten into an accident in high school and that was how she lost her memories. He understands the situation and he’s willing to restart everything again because even after all this time, Donghyuck still likes her. And for these past few months, Donghyuck has become so close to her once again and it’s like they’re back to that time where they used to play together on the beach with sands under their feet. She still smiles and gazes at him in the way she did back then and Donghyuck thinks her beauty lasts for eternity.

She even said one time, as he was trying to catch his breath after his soccer practice, that he reminded her of the sun, the way he shone so brightly when he played on the field, how his every movement and smile drew attention from the crowd.

“You should be called Haechan,” she said sheepishly, bumping her shoulder against his in a playful manner. “I think it fits you more. What do you think?”

His heart was racing for an entirely different reason. He couldn’t believe that even when she had lost her memories, she still repeated the same thing in the exact same way. So Donghyuck swallowed hard, trying his best to appear nonchalant, and said, “I think that’s the stupidest pet name someone has ever given to me, but it’s okay. You can call me that.”

It would be great if they could be something more. But well, if she believes in Soulmate and if Donghyuck turns out to not be the one she’s waiting for then they probably shouldn’t start anything to begin with.

“This whole Soulmate thing sucks balls!” Donghyuck whines, kicking a pebble stone to the side of the street as he walks next to his tall friend on the sidewalk. “I really want to try and be with her, you know? I didn’t try anything back then because we were too young to understand our feelings but now we’re older and I really, really like her but God-fucking-dammit, Yukhei, what if I’m not her Soulmate? What if she won’t accept me?”

Yukhei pats his friend on the back. “Well, you still have your chance, Hyuck. Maybe someday, she’ll fall and bruise her knees or something and you’ll get the same scar—her scar. Who knows, right? Maybe you are her Soulmate.”

Donghyuck doesn’t put a lot of wish on that. He’s never much of a believer anyway. “She doesn’t seem to have scars now, though,” he says, “So how can we tell who her Soulmate is?”

“But you don’t have scars too, do you?”

“Actually, I—”

“Donghyuck-Hyung!” A skinny boy with fluffy blond hair, calls from somewhere behind him. Donghyuck turns around and grins when he sees the boy approaching him. “Hey, asswipe! What’s up?”

“I told you not to call me that.” But Chenle reciprocated by giving him his personal high five. After a quick chatter, Chenle drops his smile and displays a solemn look on his face. “Hyung, there’s something I need to tell you.” 

***

14

It’s on the next day, June 14th, when Donghyuck literally steals Yukhei’s key (he thinks Yukhei wouldn’t mind anyway) and drives his motorcycle for less than a mile, heading south. Donghyuck doesn’t waste any more time. Since he heard what Chenle told him yesterday, Donghyuck has been so anxious. He needs to see her now and he needs to see her fast.

That afternoon isn’t actually chilly, but Donghyuck brings his black leather jacket with him—just for luck. He wears a thin white shirt underneath it and a black full covered helmet on his head. He’s brought another helmet with him, not caring about the possibility of her rejecting his proposal of an impromptu date. Donghyuck has always been that confident.

Getting the address of her house isn’t actually easy, but it’s not the hardest question in the world either. When he stops in front of her house, his wristwatch says it’s 02.14 p.m. He still has enough time to go watch a movie with her and have dinner together—if she agrees to go on a date with him in the first place. 

Jumping out from his—or rather, Yukhei’s—motorcycle, Donghyuck takes off his helmet and ruffles his short hair, pushing back his fringe with his lean fingers. He doesn’t say it often but he thinks he looks a bit hotter when his forehead shows and if he’s going to charm this girl off her feet, he needs all the luck he can get. And that is why he’s putting his RayBan sunglasses on too.

He picks up his phone and dials her numbers. She answers on the second ring and it’s cute that her “Hello?” sounds more like a panic shout rather than a friendly greeting. “Hey, baby,” Donghyuck jokes with a grin, but it makes her gasp. He hears her stutter out his name in return. “Can you go out to your balcony for me?”

“W-why?” she asks, a bit breathlessly for some reason. Donghyuck secretly hopes his voice is the reason behind it. He likes to think he has that effect on her, because sometimes, when she wears her floral blue shirt combined with her white skirt, she has that same effect on him as well. That feeling of needing to breathe when you’re already breathing. It’s weird but he likes it.

“Just do it, please?” he begs, even displaying his puppy eyes though he knows she won’t be able to see them.

“Umm... O-okay then…” 

A moment later, she appears on her veranda, wearing a short, casual navy blue summer dress with a white collar that looks like a sailor’s. Her hair is untied, flowing over her shoulders and Donghyuck can already tell that she’s about to tuck some strands of her hair behind her ears. He always loves it when she does that. He’ll love it even more if one day she gives him the chance to do it for her.

“Umm, I’m already out,” she nervously mumbles out, pushing her locks to the back of her ear. Her phone is strapped to her ear and she examines her surrounding until her eyes land on the man who’s leaning on a (stolen) bike.

“Hey,” Donghyuck smiles that one smile he knows could drive women crazy. He adds this thing with his eyebrows just in case she’s not affected by his smirk. “So, I woke up this morning and I thought of you. Wanna go out on a date with me?”

She gapes, her cellphone almost slides down from her hand. “I-I’m—” Even Donghyuck can see her blush from under there. “Donghyuck-ah, I—”

“How many times should I tell you?” Donghyuck sighs, playfully sending her a glare. “Just call me by that name you gave me.”

“D-didn’t you say it was stupid?”

“It’s stupid because it makes me feel special.” And he doesn’t lie, not in the slightest. “You make me feel special.”

Her face burns even more. “Look, I don’t think I can go—” She takes a look behind her, worriedly glancing to her room. “I’m supposed to stay in my room and—”

“Have you ever broken any rules before?” Donghyuck asks and if she hadn’t lost her memories, she’d say yes and tell him that that’s the exact reason why she got into that accident. But this new version of her only gnawed at her lip worriedly. “Come on, Noona. You don’t need to tell your parents.” He’s extremely persuasive, especially with that signature eyebrow-raise of his with his eyes twinkling mischievously after he took off his sunglasses. “Just come with me. I’ll take you back home before they even know you’re gone.”

It’s tempting. Donghyuck’s offers are always tempting and he looks really good in that leather jacket while sporting his messy pushed-back hair. She once thought Donghyuck looked the best wearing his soccer jersey on the field because he appeared so young and boyish that way. But this. This exact style. He reeks of masculinity and pure sex—

“Are you coming?” Donghyuck snaps her away from her reverie. She continues nibbling on her lip in anxiety, looking back again before she glances at the boy once more. “Okay, yes,” she finally says and Donghyuck tries not to jump and stab the air in victory. “I can’t go down from the stairs, though. My father’s in the living room.”

“Well then, jump,” he simply says, walking closer until he stands just below her balcony and tries to be as quiet as possible as he strolls through the bushes. “Come on, Noona. Jump. I’ll catch you.”

“T-there’s no way I can do that!” Her cheeks spark bright red. “I’m wearing a dress!”

“Well then, I’ll close my eyes.” He spreads his arms wide to catch her and simply closes his eyes like he said. “See?”

“How are you planning to catch me when you can’t even see me?!” She protests and Donghyuck wants to laugh because her shrieking voice is so pleasantly cute.

“Hey,” Donghyuck says, opening his eyes again just to gaze straight into her eyes. “I won’t let you fall. I promise. Don’t you trust me?”

Something in the tone he uses lights a spark in her chest. “O-of course.”

“Then trust me.” Donghyuck smiles again and shuts his eyes closed. “Now jump.”

She still hesitates, thinking this over and over again with her hand pressed nervously against her chest. Finally, she decides to just get this over with. “I’m—I’m a bit heavy, though.”

“You’re not heavy, you’re pretty,” Donghyuck smoothly says and on any other occasion, she would have laughed because that’s probably the worst line to say at the moment. “Now come on. Jump.”

“But Haechannie—”

“Jump!”

And she does. With a rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins, she jumps in her sailor dress with only her phone being held in her hand. She’s about to yelp but the fall is too fast that it ends before she can scream. True enough, Donghyuck manages to catch her with his arms and she falls with a small ‘oof’ to his chest. 

“Hello Kitty panties?” Donghyuck teases, his spine being pressed against the ground and although it does hurt a little, everything is worth it since she is now lying on top of him. “Really, darling?”

She gapes, blushing madly, and lands a small slap on his chest to cover her embarrassment. “You said you wouldn’t look!” She makes too much rustling noises over the fuss, while Donghyuck tries to contain his laughter. He would’ve let her hit him again if he didn’t hear someone’s footsteps closing on them.

Her father is now walking through the front door. 

Donghyuck does the most brilliant thing to do at the moment—according to him anyway—which is to roll to his side and hide both of their bodies behind the bushes. She ends up lying on the ground with Donghyuck’s body covering her. He holds her head close to his chest so she won’t knock herself on the ground. Her ear is pressed against his heart and she cannot focus when Donghyuck pulls her closer and warns her with a whisper, “Be quiet...” 

Her father doesn’t take a detailed look around the place, probably wondering whether it was just the neighbor’s cat doing noisy things as always. He ends up leaving after picking up the newspaper that he forgets to retrieve in the morning.

When the sound of the front door being closed reaches their ears, they both let out a relieved sigh. “Holy shit, I thought I was about to die,” Donghyuck says, laughing when he sees her holding back her smile. “Your hair’s a mess.” He reaches out a hand and fixes her fringe and that’s when she realizes that she’s in such proximity to his face and she’s literally lying underneath him.

She immediately pulls away and stands up properly before she slightly bows with her face blazing hot. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hold you like that—”

“Hey, relax,” Donghyuck says, cleaning the dirt off his ripped jeans as he stands up as well. “It was my fault. And I was enjoying every second of it anyway so...” He grins that familiar boyish smile of his and although she pouts and pushes him playfully by the shoulder, inside her thumping heart, she feels alive.

“I can’t believe you saw my panties,” she mutters, fixing her hair as her cheeks continue to burn. “So embarrassing.”

“I think it’s cute.”

Her face is about to explode. “You promised you’d close your eyes!”

“I didn’t.” Donghyuck wiggles his eyebrow once in a teasing manner. “I only promised you I’d catch you. And I did, right? I didn’t let you fall.”

She looks away, trying her best to calm her racing heart. “Y-yes. Thanks.”

“My pleasure. Now, come on,” Donghyuck says, taking her hand without permission (not that she’d mind) and guides her to his—Yukhei’s—ride. “I’m thinking of relishing our childhood memories and—” he stops when he sees her frowning and he looks flustered because, “God, I’m so stupid. Of course you wouldn’t remember.” His voice is quiet before he gets a grip of himself and clears his throat. “What I want to say is, there are two choices you can choose: First, it’s a safe option where we go out to the movies, choose whatever it is that’s lame enough so you’ll get bored and start talking to me during the play—hey, stop laughing!” Donghyuck pokes her on the cheek when she giggles at his words. “And then we’ll get dinner afterward before I take you home. Or second, and this is the more daring one, we go to the nearest beach and see whatever the hell that’s going to happen there and just let God decides where we go next.” He gives her another spare of his helmet. “So what do you wanna do?”

She thinks about it for a few seconds, just to build the hype, before she says, “I’ll go with the second option.”

“Well, I am hurt,” Donghyuck mutters. “You just thought talking to me during the movie would be boring, didn’t you? You’ve underestimated my interpersonal skills, woman.”

“It’s not that,” she replies, grinning as she sits behind him and wraps her arms around his waist. “I’m just worried that you’re gonna order pizza for dinner and I don’t think that’s gonna be romantic.”

“Ah, so you want our situation to be romantic, do you?” Donghyuck teases, her plan backfires. “I knew you’ve always had the hots for me.”

Her jaw hangs low on her blushing face. “That’s not what I—” And her words end up with a scream when Donghyuck suddenly drives off. She winds her arms tighter around his waist and Donghyuck laughs because she’s adorable in the way he finds to be the cutest form possible.

To her, this is the first date she’s ever experienced. She has never been with anyone before him and she likes Donghyuck so much because he seems so carefree and fun, while on the other side, dangerous and unpredictable. He’s a bit four-dimensional and she wants to know what’s hidden more under those multilayer personalities of his. But what attracts her the most is how she feels familiar and safe in his presence. She feels like she can trust him as if she’s known him for her whole life.

Had the accident never happened, she would’ve noticed how different Donghyuck is if being compared with her past boyfriend, Mark Lee. While Donghyuck is impulsive and daring, Mark has always been the cautious one. Mark is the guy who pays attention to every little thing that happens to her—even when she doesn’t realize it herself. While Donghyuck, on the other hand, is that person who desires simplicity. The boy who says, “I want you” instead of “I need you”. And that’s entirely different than how Mark, the boy who offers commitment and loyalty, had promised her once.

But memory is just a memory. Donghyuck used to live in the shadows of her mind, but now he’s alive and there’s no way he’s going to let her go for the second time.

It’s time for Mark to stay in the darkness and just let go of what he used to have.

This time, the table has turned.

***

15

Mark Lee sighs for the fifteenth time that day because his mother keeps on pestering him to go back to his daily therapy session but he’s not having any of it. Not today. He’s already tired of having to go to the doctor every day only to hear the line, “There hasn’t been many changes but don’t worry, we’ll get you better soon, Mark,” or maybe in some better days like yesterday, he got a “Good news, Mark! We can start the surgery by the end of the week! That is, of course, if you’re willing to follow the procedures and healthy enough to undergo the surgery.” 

Mark is scared to his bones but he doesn’t tell anyone that. Being consumed with fear isn’t something he wants to be proud of and he knows that it won’t do anything other than making people worry about him more. He’s had enough of that. So he just smiles and tries to get better for his mother.

Not today, though. Today, he needs to let go.

This is why tonight, he puts on his sweater and strolls out of his house without telling anyone. He rarely breaks any rules but today, he just wants to get out and breathe the outside air as much as he wants to. He takes a deep breath and with trembles in his fingers, he reaches out for his brother’s bicycle. The memory of the accident is still clear in his head but he’s already promised himself he’d move on. And this is him, moving on.

He rides the bicycle slowly, still remembering to take care of his condition. He keeps pedaling until he reaches her new address. They used to live next to each other, but after the accident that happened with Mark, her family thought that it’d be better if they stay as far as possible from each other. But here he is now, standing in front of her gate with an anxious heart and shaky fingers, just like how it was when he picked her up for their first date.

Mark weakly smiles to himself. “Just say your goodbye and leave, Mark. Just do that and move on.”

He presses the doorbell and waits.

A moment later, she comes out wearing a knitted sweater Mark once gave her for their second anniversary and that sight of her made him feel like the earth is sinking below him. Why is she wearing that? He screams in his mind, as his eyes grow wide. As far as Mark knew, her parents tried to keep every little bit of Mark away from her, to keep her safe just in case it’d bring something painful to her shattered memories. Her mother probably mistook it for her own sweater and that was why she didn’t throw it away.

“I’ll call you later, okay, Haechannie?” she says, giggling to her cellphone as she walks toward the fence that separates her from him. “I know. Of course, I’ll brush my teeth. I’m not you.” She laughs quietly, muttering ‘one sec’ to Mark as she tries to drag open the gate. “Okay, hey, I really need to go. Someone’s here.” 

Mark tries to stop the wounded look from appearing on his face. Someone, Mark thinks, smiling bitterly. She doesn’t even know my name.

“I’ll call you—” Then she laughs again, her cheeks getting red and Mark secretly hopes that it’s because of the cold, and not over Donghyuck’s words from the other side of the line. “Yes, okay, good night. I’ll see you later, Haechannie. Bye.” Then she shuts her phone and looks at Mark apologetically. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. My boyfriend just kept on babbling,” she explains, chuckling in embarrassment. “Hi, is there anything I can help you with?”

Her laughter still sounds as airy and adorable in his ears and Mark tries to erase the sickening feeling in his gut after knowing that he’s no longer the reason behind her laughter.

“Hi, uhh…” Mark rubs his nape, clearing his throat. “You probably don’t remember me, but umm—we’ve met at the library? I helped you with your books.”

She frowns for a few seconds before her eyes light up. “Ah!” She exclaims, smiling widely at him. “You’re the library guy! Hi, yes, of course, I remember you.”

Library guy. He can’t take it anymore. “It’s Mark,” he murmurs.

She blinks. “What?”

“My name,” he says, louder this time. His fingers are curling into fists on the sides of his jeans. “My name is Mark Lee.”

“Oh,” she says, throwing another heartwarming smile as she offers him her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mark Lee.” The way she says his name still feels natural to his ears, which only makes him suffer harder. She tells him her name, wanting to give him a firm handshake.

“I already know your name,” Mark says, and somehow his tone seems cold. She drops her hand with a surprised look on her face. Mark wonders whether she sees the dejected look he displays on his face because her smile vanishes completely and she seems utterly heartbroken. To her, Mark looks exactly like Donghyuck used to stare at her sometimes—that look when someone wishes to be remembered. She doesn’t know what happened in the past but she knows she’s hurting him somehow.

“I’m sorry,” she says, almost in a whisper. “I have… I have a bad memory so… If we’ve met before and I can’t remember you, I’m… I’m really sorry.”

Mark wants to slap himself on the face for being so selfish. He just hurt her again. She doesn’t even know him and he just hurt her again. “No, it’s not that,” Mark hurriedly explains with a reassuring smile. “I know you because I once saw you writing down your name when you borrowed the book. I work at the library, remember?”

She blinks twice before she lets out a relieved sigh. “Oh... Right…” she utters, smiling to herself. “Well, I… Thanks for helping me out back then.”

She looks just as beautiful as she used to when she snuggled up against him on the couch. Mark brings his hands into the pocket of his jeans so he won’t accidentally stroke her cheek or lace their fingers together. “No problem.”

“So, what’s up?” she chirps and Mark realizes he needs to find a better excuse than this is probably the last time I can see you and that’s why I want to say goodbye properly.

“It’s umm…” It’s painful for him having to lie straight to her face like this. He never once lied in front of her when they were together but now that they’re living separate lives with no connections to each other, it feels like that’s what he’s been doing all the time. Just lying, forcing himself to smile,  distancing himself from everyone, and pushing himself to say her name effortlessly even when the pain in his chest is overwhelming. “Nothing important, really,” Mark says, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “I just came here to remind you that you need to return the book by tomorrow.”

“What? Oh!” She gasps, placing a hand over her mouth. “You’re right! Oh God, I almost forgot. Thanks for reminding me.”

Mark only smiles back and his eyes are soft and gentle. “No problem. It’s my job anyway.”

She laughs a bit. “Such a hardworking young man. Next time you could just call me, you know? You don’t have to come over to my house. It’s freezing.” The way she talks is always fascinating to see and hear. Her smile never leaves her face and her hands are constantly moving animatedly every time she opens her mouth. Mark can actually feel his heart racing at the sight of her. “Oh, look at that.” She announces, glancing at Mark’s hands that are starting to go red from the cold. “You’re not wearing any gloves. Wait for a sec, will you? I’ll get you some!” And she hurries back into her house before he can stop her.

When she comes out a moment later, she carries a pair of her gloves (Mark remembers well the salmon pink color and the white stripes at the end of it) and her cheeks glow in a darker shade of red when she says, “These are mine but they’re a couple of sizes bigger on me so I hope they’ll fit.” She tucks his hands inside the gloves exactly like that time before Mark pushed her against the fence and poured his feelings against her lips. When she’s finished, she also asks, “There. Better?”

Mark can’t stop himself from feeling hurt. It’s like his heart is being ripped apart and he can’t do anything to prevent it. Before he knows it, his eyes grow hot and his vision starts to blur. He doesn’t let his tears fall though. He quickly covers it with a grateful smile. “Thank you,” he says and she smiles back, squeezing Mark’s hand in a friendly way before she lets go.

“You’re welcome,” she cheerfully says. “By the way, Happy Christmas Eve.”

Mark smiles while his heart is breaking. If he closes his eyes right now, will the earth swallow him whole?

“So, Mark Lee,” she begins, leaning her back to the fence. “Is there anything else you want to remind me of? Did I forget to pay for the book or something?”

There’s a lot of things he wants to remind her about. The warmth of his hand, the sound of his voice when he confessed to her, the taste of their first kiss, everything. But every little joyful memory he has of her will only inflict pain on her behalf so he holds himself back. Mark laughs, shaking his head. “No, you’re okay,” he says, staring at her with a gentle smile constantly displayed on his lips. 

After a while, she playfully raises an eyebrow in question. “What? Why are you staring at me?”

Mark doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, but at that moment, he reaches out his hand and pushes her bangs out of her eyes, just like how he used to do back then. She freezes on her feet, her eyes growing wide, her breathing stalls.

“I’m—” Mark splutters. “I’m sorry, I just—” He panics, his hand going over his chest, feeling his heart thumping fast and it begins to hurt—more than anything he can ever bear. “I’m so sorry.” And he turns around, carrying his bicycle with him before he pedals away through the night. His heart is screaming with more pain for the distance he puts between them.

She stands there on the ground with parted lips. Her eyes are fixed on Mark’s back as he drives away and then suddenly, a tear slips out from the corner of her eye.

“Oh…” She falls to her knees, hugging herself with her arms as she cries and cries and cries harder over something she doesn’t even know what. She just feels so hurt, as if something is tearing every bit of her heart apart. She covers her mouth as she sobs louder. Breathing becomes hard, just as hard as she tries to explain why is she feeling like this. Why does she feel like someone is leaving her? Someone very important, just like a piece of her soul. What is happening?

“Honey!” Her mother comes out with shock written on her face and cradles her into her arms. “Darling, what happened?”

But she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what to say. She just feels like dying. She just feels like she can’t breathe.

It’s as if a promise had just been broken and there’s nothing left of it to reminisce.

Mark stops and jumps off his bike the second he makes a turn a few meters away from her house. His hand is curling against the front of his shirt while the other one is holding him up from not lying flatly on the ground. He’s on his knees and he coughs to the cold night, gasping as if he was on the edge of losing his life. Her name is on the tip of his tongue and everything feels like knives, piercing through his skin.

He was so close. For a moment there, Mark saw her looking at him like she remembered him. She’s not supposed to remember him.

It hurts and Mark can’t fight his tears back anymore. He cries.

***

16

Donghyuck is staring at the latest episode of his favorite drama on channel 16 with drowsy, half-lidded eyes as he places his head on top of his girlfriend’s lap. They were in Donghyuck’s dorm room, specifically on his single-sized bed and she’s there, stroking his hair softly because Yukhei is out playing basketball with the new Chinese student and that means they can have quality time together.

Dating Donghyuck has been easy and she is enjoying every second of it. Donghyuck, that peculiar human being, likes to impersonate people as his daily jokes and it has become quite of a habit. From his usual Michael Jackson impersonation to something way more extreme such as creating new personas for himself. 

It started a week ago when Donghyuck picked her up to campus wearing ripped, washed-out jeans, black boots, and a wifebeater underneath his black leather jacket. The weirdest thing was, he had a cigarette sticking on the side of his mouth but it wasn’t lit—Donghyuck never smoked anything in his entire life.

“’ Sup,” he said, lowering his voice to make it sound deeper after he spat to the ground in a manly way (based on his own opinion, of course).

“What on earth is happening to you?” She asked, staring at him bewilderedly from head-to-toe.

Donghyuck pretended to blow some smokes from his cigarette. “The hell are you talkin’ ‘bout, girl? I’m a gangster. This is what gangsters do. Now hop on my bike, you little shit.”

She just stared flatly at him. “I’m not gonna go anywhere with you talking to me like that.”

“But I’m a gangsta! Gangsters swear, sucker.” 

“And you think swearing is attractive?”

Donghyuck snickered, breaking out of his character. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. I’m just trying on something new,” he explained, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles once. “You look very pretty today. Now, will you please go with me? We’re going to be late.”

“And you look ridiculous.”

“I know,” he chuckled and then he began to get into character again. “But I’m serious. Get on my fucking bike, bitch.”

She sighed but rode away with him anyway.

On the next day, he dressed up in a pair of baggy pants, a shirt with the words “Nerds for life” written upon it, eyeglasses that were too big for his little face, and sneakers that were way too white and way too clean.

“Good afternoon, my fellow specimen!” He saluted, holding a Star Wars graphic novel in his hands as he sat beside his girlfriend on the bleachers. He was supposed to get ready for another soccer game that was going to start in another half an hour, but here he was, dressing like a dork and bugging her like always.

“Let me guess,” she sighed, rubbing her temple. “You’re a nerd.”

“A nerd, I am not,” he said, imitating Yoda from the Star Wars franchise. “But a beauty, yes you are.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous, I am not.”

“Will you stop it already?”

“Stop, I can not.”

“Shut up!” She was beginning to laugh when Donghyuck kept talking like that as he tried to kiss her. “No! Don’t kiss me! You’re gross!”

“I am Donghyuck Skywalker and you are my mate, Princess Leia!” He announced, suddenly standing on one of the seats and opened his arms widely above his head. “We shall roam the entire universe! Just us two, you and me, with your beauty shining brighter than the stars!” Then he jumped back down, placed his hands on his hips, and smirked as he spoke, “Now open up your hangar ‘cause my starfighter needs refueling—”

“HYUCK, OH MY GOD, JUST SHUT UP!”

That happened almost every day for at least an hour-long, but him dressing up like an idiot was enough to attract the entire campus and to make his girlfriend dying from either laughing too hard or drowning in secondhand embarrassment—the latter tends to happen more often. From being Hyuckcutio—the desperate lover from the medieval age (he wore a cape and had a rose between his teeth), Donghyucko Mucho—the Spanish guy who fell hard for his Rosalinda (he had a fake mustache on his face), to Donghyuck Dawson—the American dude whose heart still sailed for his Rose DeWitt Bukater even when the ship fucking sank. 

She found him to be amusing and it was really entertaining watching him work hard to impress her. But if she had to choose, the moment she loved the most would be when Donghyuck dressed up in a plain white tee, washed-out jeans, and a smile that was bright enough to make other people look at him in a daze. His brown hair wasn’t styled in any way, and it looked so fluffy with bangs falling over his eyes. 

He sat on the bleachers next to her and playfully bumped his shoulder against hers. “Hey, baby.”

His girlfriend smiled back, cheeks glowing in pink. “Who are you trying to be now?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “Myself.”

“Hmm…” She hummed before she kissed his cheek. “I think…” I like this one the most. “You look ridiculous.”

Donghyuck laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he ruffled her hair. “I know.”

“Something weird happened to me yesterday,” she confesses, playing idly with Donghyuck’s dark strands as she hangs around on his bed. Donghyuck’s head on her lap is a comforting weight she tends to miss when she’s alone in her room. “There’s this guy who came to my house late in the evening and he looked familiar but I can’t place who he was in my mind.”

Donghyuck turns around and looks up at her. “Maybe he’s an old friend?”

“Maybe,” she sighs. “He kept on staring at me and when I asked him why, he kind of brushed my hair and I just cried.”

Donghyuck raises his right eyebrow. “You cried?”

She nods, looking worried and dispirited so Donghyuck lifts his head off her lap and pats her head. “Hey, hey, hey,” he says, giving her a playful smile. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“I don’t know what happened, it’s just—” She exhales heavily, lacing Donghyuck’s fingers with hers. “I suddenly felt so sad and there’s this pain aching in my chest. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Hey,” Donghyuck kisses her knuckles to soothe her down. “You’re okay. Nothing’s wrong with you. That guy was probably some sort of a voodoo believer or something and he tried to hypnotize you. I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

She smiles, giving her boyfriend a flick on the nose. “Stupid. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Sure, it does!” Donghyuck swiftly pulls her by the leg and she falls to the bed with a giggle on her lips. Donghyuck climbs up her body, kissing her cheek before he grins at her.

“What?” she asks, her eyes have that teasing twinkle in them. “You look like you’re about to kiss me.”

“No, I don’t.” Donghyuck snorts. “What, just because I’m lying on top of my girlfriend with my face being this close, you think I want to kiss you? Such confidence you have.”

She retaliates with a playful shove against his shoulders and Donghyuck laughs before he pins both of her hands to the bed. He leans close and kisses her lips, gentle like usual but also has that fiery spark behind it. 

She tenderly smiles and lets him kiss her one more time before he sighs and trails his fingertips along the side of her face. “What now?” she asks, grinning teasingly.

Donghyuck’s playful smirk has vanished away from his face. “You know I love you, right?” he asks, his face serious as he traces her bottom lip with his thumb. This is actually the first time she hears him say those three words and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised. 

She parts her lips to speak. “Why are you suddenly—”

“I just thought you should know,” Donghyuck says, his eyes are deep with sincerity and adoration. “I’ve actually been in love with you for a while. I guess I’ve even loved you from back when we were kids.” He chuckles quietly to himself when he sees her frowning. “You don’t remember anything, do you?” He twirls a strand of her hair around his finger. “Back then when I hit you with my ball and you just stared at me with that cute look on your face? You don’t remember that?”

“So that spring wasn’t the first time you hit my head with a ball?” she gives him a look and Donghyuck laughs before he kisses the corner of her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I guess I have the knack in running to damsels in distress and hitting them on the head with my ball.”

“Yeah, with you being the cause of their distress.”

Donghyuck pinches her cheek until she bursts out laughing. He rolls to his back and brings her forward to lie on top of him. She balances herself by putting her hands on his chest and Donghyuck tucks her hair behind her ear. “Do you love me?” he asks, quietly and she can see the insecurities in his eyes. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t but—”

“I do,” she hastily answers before he starts rambling nonsense. “Donghyuck you’re my Soulmate. Of course, I love you.” She bends her head down to kiss him deeply, tugging his lower lip with her teeth. “I do. I love you.”

Donghyuck groans lowly before he flips her back to her previous position, him hovering above her. He parts her lips with his and begins tasting every corner of her mouth, making her moan delicately against his warm lips. She cards her fingers through his hair before she rests her hand on his nape, touching the scar that has the exact same shape as hers.

A mark that indicates they’re both connected as Soulmates.

***

17

The clock indicates that it’s 05:17 p.m when his mother hugs him close to her chest. “You’ll be alright, Mark,” she whispers in his ear, her voice breaking. “I will just be right here and we’ll meet again in a few hours, okay?”

Mark Lee smiles brokenly to his family as he leans back on his wheelchair. His father pats him on his shoulder, “I’ll see you later, Son.” 

His older brother gives him a familiar punch to his shoulder, teasing him although his concerned eyes betray him. “You’ll be okay, buddy. Think about it, we can play soccer again after this and I don’t have to hold back for your weak ass.” And Mark only chuckles softly before the doctor drags him away to the surgery room.

“Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad,” Mark says, waving his hand and he can hear his own voice ready to shatter into pieces in the next seconds. “Bye, Hyung.”

And he dedicates his final farewell with a thought of her name.

“Everything will be fine, Mark,” the doctor says, eyes sparked with reassurance though his words mean nothing to Mark’s ears. The patient lies on his bed, taking a deep breath before the nurse injects a needle into his skin. “We’ll get you a new heart so you can ride your bike all day long again like you used to, okay?”

“Okay, Doc,” Mark simply responds, mirroring his smile that soon drops to the ground the second the older man glances away.

“Can you count to ten for me?”

The boy nods, beginning to count as the liquid runs through his veins, making him feel numb and sleepy.

“One.”

He remembers that one morning when he first realized he was in love. It was when she appeared in front of his room, breathless with a frantic look on her eyes, and screamed at him for not telling her that he was having a fever. She skipped school that day, no matter how many times her mother tried to drag her back there, saying that she wanted to stay at home and take care of her best friend.

“Two.”

Mark remembers the second month after they started dating. Of melted ice cream cones and chocolates they shared after school was over. And those secret kisses they stole from each other when their parents weren’t looking. Mark remembers how she used to compare him with summer, and when Mark pouted because he thought she was talking about how his pale skin easily got burned under the sunlight, she only laughed, kissed his cheek, and said, “You’ll always be my summer, Mark.”

“Three.”

He remembers how they used to speak those three words every night and every morning of every day. He remembers how they used to be so shy and he also remembers the day those three words became a promise. A promise, in Mark’s case, that lasts forever. But one that she’d forget in the near future.

“Four.”

Mark had only sung to her with his nervous fingers playing his acoustic guitar four times, but the adoration and the love she had in her eyes lasted for four years.

“Five…”

“There are five reasons why you should fall in love and stay in love with me, Mark Lee,” she once said with a smug smile on her face. “First, I’m a natural beauty.” Mark yawned and she threw her pillow at him. “Second, I’m a loving and caring person.” Mark rolled his eyes and he got a glare in return. “Third, I’m smart—like hella smart.” Mark began to bury his face in his pillow and she flicked him on the ear. “Fourth, I’m sexy.” Mark stared at her with boredom in his eyes as he clapped his hands nonchalantly. “What, it’s true! You said so once, don’t you dare lie to me! And last but not least, I’m your best friend and I’ve understood you as well as I know the back of my hand.” Mark secretly smiled at that.

“Well,” he said, “you know how many reasons are there for you to love me?”

Her eyes twinkled in a teasing manner. “How many?”

“Just one,” Mark said, lacing his fingers with hers.

“And that is?” she asked, looking up to him through her long, beautiful eyelashes.

“It’s because I love you,” Mark said. “Unconditionally and everlastingly. That should be enough reason for you, right?”

And he muffled her happy giggle with a kiss to her lips.

Mark’s eyes start to grow heavy. “S… Six…”

He remembers the way she blushed when he swatted her bangs away from her eyes. Remembers the way she warmed his hands, puffing her cheeks when he was risking his health for her sake. He remembers the way she gasped against his mouth, her spine pressed against the fence, her fingers fisting at the fabric of his sweater. 

“Se…ven…”

“What are you doing, Mark?”

“I’m writing a song.”

“What’s it called?”

“Seven days.”

“Why?”

Mark went flustered and he nearly fainted when she stole his notepad and kept herself moving, dodging his every attempt in retrieving it, before she read on the lyrics he wrote.

“Surprisingly, a week feels really short. Any time spent with you, to end it, it’s a pity. I’m still curious about everything about you. I fall for you more as I get to know you.” 

She sent him a look and Mark immediately babbled, “It’s not specifically about you, it’s about people in general—“ But she muffled the rest of his excuse with her lips, hands tugging around his collar, pressing him closer than ever.

“Eight…”

They just turned eighteen but Mark had her lying underneath him, fingers trembling and lips bruised from his feverish kisses. “I want to be with you. I want to make you feel good. Let me be yours.”

“Am I making you happy?”

“MARK, WATCH OUT!”

A tear slips away from his eye as he begins to close his lids. And the boy never gets to finish counting because his dreams stop there. And now, nightmares welcome him with open arms, just as darkness begins to envelop him once again.

Like an old friend.

***

18

“Don’t you think Yukhei will get mad?” she asks, giggling as she buries her face in her boyfriend’s chest, still peppering small kisses now and then. The clock’s ticking, showing the number 18.18 on the screen of her cellphone. They’re still mostly naked underneath the sheets—with her dressed only in her lingerie and Donghyuck only wearing his boxer—not caring that his roommate, Wong Yukhei, can come back there any second.

“What, because we just had sex on his bed and cuddled afterward?” Donghyuck says, and he chuckles when she punches his shoulder. “Hey, I did say I love you but easy on the hands there, Mike Tyson.”

She beams at him and giggles again when Donghyuck begins to hover above her and trails butterfly kisses from her neck to her collarbones. “Shouldn’t we shower? I feel so dirty,” she says, chuckling when Donghyuck licks a long stripe on the sensitive skin.

“Well, I’m about to do something dirtier to you so why bother?” He slides his hand down her stomach, making her fidget a little with his silky smooth touch, and hover his fingers above the line of her lingerie. Noticing how she nibbles on her lip, anticipating something to occur, Donghyuck smirks. “If I ask you to beg, would you do it?”

Her cheeks turn scarlet but she quickly retorts with, “No way in hell.”

He pouts, jutting out his lower lip. “I could make you feel really good, though.”

She can’t stand being the opposite of him when he’s being sinfully seductive like this. “I’m leaving,” she announces, attempts to wiggle herself free from his hold but he catches her with a snicker tumbling off his lips. Settling her down on his lap, he lays a hand on her spine while his other one sneaks around her waist, bringing her close until his lips graze the supple skin between her breasts.

“You’re leaving?” Donghyuck murmurs, landing another trail of kisses between the valley of her breasts, tongue darting out to taste her skin. “But I still need to worship my Goddess.”

She wants to send him a snarky remark but she’s too deep in pleasure to care at the moment. She sighs and runs her fingers through his hair. Donghyuck flips her around, laying her back to the bed, and spreads her legs apart so he can fit between them. She becomes nervous from the intensity of his gaze as if he’s being consumed by desire and he wants to drag her with him.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he says, bending down until she can feel his breath fanning the inside part of her thigh. “I’ve been wanting you for so long, you don’t even know.” His eyes never leave hers as he sucks bruises on the sensitive skin of her thigh. “And now that I have you where I want you, I still couldn’t get enough. What should I do?”

She swallows hard, instantly closing her eyes when he pushes her lingerie to the side, fingers dipping inside her warmth. His eyes glimmer with lust, wetting his lower lip once as he’s captivated with her sultry expression. “Fuck, you’re so sexy like this.”

Her fingers are twisting against the sheet when she hears his praise followed quickly by the heat of his tongue rubbing against her clit. She’s drowning, intoxicated by his every move, her orgasm nearing close.

But then Donghyuck suddenly stops and breaks away. His eyes are stern and wide, filled with horror.

She frowns as she follows his gaze, landing her eyes on the middle of her bare chest. There’s a long cut, fresh and red, that starts to appear inch by inch on her skin. It begins from a few centimeters below her collarbones to the skin between her breasts, until it stops just a few inches away from her navel.

“W-what is this?” She sits up straight, touching the cut with trembling fingers. She doesn’t feel any pain, which means—

She takes a look at Donghyuck’s chest—at the man who claims that he’s her Soulmate—and finds nothing. There’s no scar on his chest. The mark comes from someone else.

Donghyuck’s not her Soulmate.

Donghyuck’s gawks at the sight before he stares back at her without blinking. When realization appears vividly on her face, he gulps and stutters, “I-I can explain…”

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” She screams, her eyes filled with hurt and betrayal. And when Donghyuck just gazes at her in shock, she pushes him away by his shoulders with so much force, he almost topples off the bed. “GET OUT!”

“W-wait—” Donghyuck tries to explain, standing on his feet with his eyes filled with fear of being thrown away. He looks like death is approaching him. “Noona, please, listen to me—”

“No!” She throws everything she can reach by her hands—his pillow, the sheets, his clothes—while her eyes begin to grow hot and the pain of being betrayed and blatantly lied growing more vividly behind her chest. “How dare you do this to me, you—”

“Noona!” Donghyuck holds her wrists and tries to keep up with her struggle. “Please, calm down and listen—”

“I HATE YOU!” She bites back, crying with her teeth gritting behind her lips when Donghyuck has her pinned back down to the bed. “I hate you…” her voice reduces into a softer tone but somehow it adds more fresh wounds to Donghyuck’s feelings. He knows she doesn’t hate him just like how he will never be able to hate her, no matter what she does. Soulmates or not, she truly does love him. But this... This new scar on her chest... This still changes everything.  

Donghyuck’s eyes turn sorrowful—there’s no more light in them. No joy, no mischievous gleam, nothing but a disappointment he has brought upon himself. “Noona…”

“I believed you,” she sobs, staring at him with broken eyes and quivering lips. “I believed you, Haechannie—how could you do this to me?”

Donghyuck loses his grip, feeling all of his strength leaving his body. “I’m…” He swallows and reaches out a hand when she throws her wrist above her eyes. “Noona, there’s a reason why I’m doing this—”

“Your scar!” She suddenly yells, eyes filled with nothing but rage. “That scar on the back of your neck—is that fake?”

“Noona—”

“Answer me!”

Donghyuck freezes, his throat feels dry when he speaks. “Yes,” He finally admits and he can almost hear her heart shattering apart. “Yes, it’s fake.”

She lets out a breath, one hand going to the side of her head. “I can’t believe it…” Her breathing goes a bit ragged. “I can’t believe you’ve been lying to me—”

“Yes, but—”

“After all this time,” she says, staring at him with new tears in her eyes. “After all this time, Haechannie… You’ve been lying to me.”

Donghyuck endures the pain that comes every time she says those words. “Noona, please, you need to listen to me.” And when he tries to take her wrist again, she pulls back immediately.

“Can you please leave?” she asks between her quiet sobs but her tone is definite. “I’m… I’ll be away before you come back so just—” 

“Noona, can we at least talk—”

“Hyuck, please,” she cries, fisting the sheets underneath her. “Just leave me alone.”

And Donghyuck does as she says because he feels that if he stays just a second longer, she’ll break apart even more and he never wants to see her like that. He’s supposed to bring smiles to her face—to make her laugh just like the old days, but look what he has done now? 

Goddammit, Hyuck.

He hurriedly puts his pants on and he’s already standing at the door before he can even place his shirt back on. “Noona…” He whispers, taking a last look at the girl who’s now hugging her knees to her chest and crying miserably to her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

But she doesn’t hear him. She doesn’t want to hear him.

Just let me be alone.

Donghyuck brings his gaze down to the floor. “I’ll give you some time to get ready. I’ll make sure you’ve left before I come back,” he says, closing the door behind him. “Goodbye, Noona.”

This situation seems familiar but it feels way, way much worse.

 ***

19

Mark Lee 

18: 01: 19 

“Doctor, how is he?” Mark’s mother quickly asks the man when he steps into the waiting room. Her husband stands behind her with a stiff hand on her shoulder, praying for his child’s health. Mark’s older brother bites his lower lip, waiting anxiously for the moment he can breathe in relief because he knows his little brother will be fine.

But that turns out to be wrong when the doctor shakes his head and says, “I’m sorry.”

The surgery has failed. Mark’s body rejects his new heart and he can no longer be saved.

Life ends but their sorrow stays.

***

20

After passing twenty minutes of trying to calm herself down, burying herself under the sheets during those dreading minutes, she finally gets up from the bed. Her hands are still shaky when she collects her clothing and dresses properly. She stares at herself in the mirror, taking a glimpse of the new long scar in the middle of her chest before she buttons her shirt up. Something must have happened to her other half—she needs to find out what it is. She needs to know who it is.

She closes her eyes. Everything hurts and she doesn’t know why but that man’s face—the guy who stood by her gate last night—keeps appearing on her mind. But every time she remembers him, another wound breaks inside her chest, and tears begin to roll down once more.

Exhaling a deep breath, she searches for her phone. She quickly scrolls through her contact list and dials the numbers she’s been searching.

Pick up, pick up, PICK UP!

A woman’s voice comes through the line. “Hello, Yongsan Municipal Library, how may I help—”

“Yes, hi,” she hastily greets, voice still filled with quivers but with more strength behind it when she introduced herself. “I’m looking for this guy named Mark Lee—he w-works at your place a-and—” her voice breaks at the end, trembling with tears that’s about to flood her eyes. “Can… Can you please, let me speak to him?”

There’s a silence on the other side of the phone and she wonders whether that lady doesn’t understand the words she just said or for some entirely different reason. 

Please let him be okay.

“You’re looking for Mark Lee?” she asks and she nods until she realizes she can’t see her. “Y-yes,” she croaks out.

“Well, he hasn’t come here since two days ago,” the lady explains while her heart sinks below her stomach. “He said he was about to go through surgery—”

“Surgery?”

“Yes, for his heart,” she answers and her hand unconsciously goes to her chest. It’s starting to make sense now. “I heard he got into the operation room a few hours ago. I’m still waiting for the news, actually. It’s—oh wait, I got a mail. Maybe this is it.” There’s a rustling sound going on in the background and she waits with her heart thumping loudly. A few seconds later, she hears a soft gasp, “Oh my goodness.”

“Ma’am?” she starts. “Ma’am, what’s wrong? Is he alright?”

Say yes. Please say yes.

Another silence before the lady comes to answer her with a voice so quiet she almost mistakes it as a whisper. “Mark Lee has passed away, just a few minutes ago. He was—”

She drops her phone to the floor in panic and quickly unbuttons her shirt again. She runs to the mirror, focusing her gaze at her reflection and she finds nothing.

The scar on her chest has vanished, not even leaving a trace of it behind. Just like the memories she had with him.

Donghyuck doesn’t really leave the room even when she has screamed at him to do so. He’s closed the door behind him but he doesn’t walk away. Instead, he slides down to the floor, pressing his back against the wooden surface, and waits. The hallway is empty and Donghyuck shivers from the cold.

God, you’re so fucking stupid, he thinks to himself. You shouldn’t have agreed with Chenle. You should’ve known this wouldn’t have worked.

Donghyuck traces the scar on his nape—the fake scar that he made to make her believe. To make her think that he was her Soulmate.

He feels like he’s about to vomit. He’s so sick of himself. Disgusting, he thinks, you’re a piece of crap, Lee Donghyuck. He closes his eyes, biting on his lower lip as his mind flashes back to his conversation with his younger friend, Zhong Chenle.

“Hyung, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“You said you wanted to get close to her, right?” Chenle had once said to him. “She has a scar on the back of her neck. That’s the clue.”

Yukhei reached out to see what was hidden behind Donghyuck’s collar. “Shit, dude,” he said, hissing, “You don’t have it. The scar—you’re not her Soulmate.”

Donghyuck’s heart flopped and it took a moment for him to recover. “W-well…” He barked a laugh, masking his disappointment though he wasn’t fooling anyone. “Well then, there goes my chance.”

“No, you still have a chance,” Chenle corrected. “I know who her Soulmate is. And he’s dying.”

“W-what?”

“Mark Lee,” Chenle said with sorrowful eyes and a broken heart. Donghyuck knew perfectly who he was—that guy, the owner of prominent cheekbones, thin lips, and pale skin who constantly refused his offer to play soccer together. “Mark Lee is her Soulmate, Hyung. But he’s... He’s dying. His heart is weak and that’s why he doesn’t want to get close to her. He knows he’s not gonna last long.”

“B-but—” Donghyuck splutters, frowning. “Does she know about this?”

“No,” Chenle shook his head once. “They used to date and she didn’t even know it back then. They didn’t know it back then. Then they got into an accident and she lost her memories. Mark thinks it’s a chance for him to stay away from her.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Donghyuck shouted angrily. “He’s her Soulmate! She deserves to know! They deserve to be together even just for a while—”

“He doesn’t want to. He’s given up, Hyung. He wants me to tell you that.” And his next words were the last thing Chenle said before he left with an apologetic look on his face. “I know you want to push Mark to be with her but I think you should stop. He thinks it’s better this way.”

Donghyuck hissed under his breath, pushing his hair back in frustration. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Yukhei gaped before his friend confronted him and asked, “Yukhei, what happened when your Soulmate dies before you know them?”

The tall boy realized where Donghyuck was going with this. He remembered how Donghyuck hadn’t gotten any scars on his body yet.

“You’ll find yourself another Soulmate.”

With that in mind, Donghyuck ran through the corridors, stepping into the faculty he knew Mark Lee was in. The paler boy was in the middle of his literature class and Donghyuck just went in, blurting out, “Sorry Prof, it’s an emergency!” to the lecturer before he yanked Mark out of his seat. The older one was quiet, following him without asking questions until Donghyuck shoved him against a wall in an empty hallway.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Donghyuck asked through gritted teeth. His hands were grasping tightly against the fabric of Mark’s collar.

Mark stared at him back with cold, almost challenging eyes. “I should be the one who asked you that. You’re the one who suddenly dragged me over here.”

“She’s your Soulmate!” Donghyuck nearly screamed at him. “Do you know how rare it is to find your Soulmate at such a young age?”

Mark only kept his face straight when he replied, “So you’ve heard.” 

“Yes, I’ve heard, you asshole,” Donghyuck spat back. “And from your friend too because apparently, you’re too busy being such a fucking coward to tell me yourself!”

Mark’s eyes darkened at his degrading words but he didn’t say anything.

Donghyuck exhaled in exasperation. “Look, Mark. do you know how much she wants to find her Soulmate? How much she wants to be with you? You’ve known all along and I know you guys had a history together so why the hell aren’t you two together now?”

Mark’s jaw clenched before he broke their eye contact. “It’s better this way.”

“Why, because you’re dying?”

Mark’s eyes grew hard before he closed them. “Among many reasons.”

Donghyuck was on the verge of punching him so hard across his jaw but when he saw the wounded look that flitted through Mark’s eyes for just a few seconds, he restrained himself. Instead, he just asked,” How could you be so selfish?”

Mark immediately turned to look at the other man with a hard glare, his heart beating fast from his rage. “Selfish?” Mark asked, his tone sounded almost as sharp as a knife. “I’m selfish? Donghyuck-ah, I’m letting the person I care about the most in the world fall into another man’s arm because I don’t want to hurt her! If I die, she’ll—”

“She’ll what? She’ll be sad? Devastated? Well, hey, news flash, Mark. Everybody dies!” Donghyuck exclaimed. “You say you’re dying but you can never know when you’re actually going to die. My condition is as good as a person can be but who can guarantee I’m gonna live long? What if I get into an accident? What if I suddenly get sick and die the next day? You can never know so don’t use that as an excuse, you coward!”

Donghyuck had a point; Mark knew that. But it wasn’t easy.

Mark just shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

“Of course.” Donghyuck scoffed. “And that’s why I said you’re being selfish.”

“You want to talk about being selfish?!” Mark was losing his patience. “Try to look at yourself! You’re here, pretending like you care and want us to be together when it’s obvious that you’re happy with all of this because you get to have her for yourself—”

Donghyuck punched the boy with his right fist. He couldn’t help it. He snapped.

The punch wasn’t hard enough to knock the teeth out of his mouth but it was hard enough to make Mark feel lightheaded and fall to the floor. He hissed, rubbing the pain off his jaw, and leaned his back against the wall. 

“Fine,” Donghyuck said, staring at the boy who looked up at him with a new bruise forming along his right jaw. Donghyuck could see how much Mark wanted to be with her and how much he tried to convince himself to do so. But he could tell how Mark was afraid. That boy almost lost everything once—he knew how awful it was to be left alone. He didn’t want that to happen to her and though Donghyuck understood that, he just couldn’t accept it yet. “If you want to give up on her,” he said, “Then go. Do it. I’m not you so I don’t know how you feel but I can see that deep down inside, you still don’t want to let her go. But the thing is, Mark, I’m gonna fight for her. I’m gonna make her happy. Soulmates or not, I’m gonna try to make her feel loved because I am—I’m in love with her. But I am not happy taking her away from her Soulmate—from you. That’s your fault. You had two options and you chose to leave. That’s your own decision, so don’t try to make yourself feel better by telling me how I feel. You don’t know me.”

Mark brought his head down, nibbling on his lip. His eyes felt hot and he felt downright awful about himself. He didn’t mean to insult Donghyuck—he was just angry for a second there. His emotions had gone over control.

“Then go make her happy,” Mark said, picking himself up from the floor and walked away. Donghyuck stared at his back and nodded with a sincere promise even when the boy could no longer see him.

“Stupid,” Donghyuck murmurs to himself as his flashback ends. “Mark’s right. You’re selfish. You’re such an idiot.” He punches the ground beneath him a few times out of frustration before he slides his fingers through his hair and pulls on the roots. He doesn’t notice how he just cut himself along his knuckles, his skin breaking and bleeding slowly through a thin layer. “You can’t even be sure you’re her next Soulmate, Hyuck. You’re just an idiot. An idiot and an asshole and you just lost her for the second time in your pathetic little life.” He closed his eyes and leaned back to the door. 

Noona, please forgive me.

She slides down to the floor and hugs her knees to her chest. Pressing her temple to her knees, she sobs until her entire shoulders begin to shake.

Mark Lee was her Soulmate. And he knew—that’s why he came to her house that night. Why didn’t he just tell the truth? And why did he look so familiar? So familiar and yet she doesn’t remember anything. Why can’t she remember him?

God, I beg you, please. Let me remember him, she prays under her muffled sobs, if he ever meant something to me, please, let me remember him. I don’t care if it’ll hurt me, I don’t care. I just want to remember him. That’s all I ask.

Mark…

But as Mark dies, the permanent scar he gets on his chest before his final moment dies with him as well. The memory of him never suffices and Mark is just a shadow, following her everywhere but one that she cannot see.

She braces herself to glance one more time at the scar on her chest but there’s none. The cut has disappeared. She’s just as good as new.

Except for the faint cut that recently appears on her knuckles.

***

[sicjimin]

🍳 Get the Egg Away 🍳

A.N : based on anon's idea few days ago about pregnant yoongi. A little bit angst but i dont know .. if this good enough .. since im suck at writing angst or something with plot shsjshss i hope you like it. Sorry for keep filling you with mpreg stories :") (i know the title is lame)

TW : emeto, graphic description of vomiting, mpreg

"What kind of demon possessed you this morning?", Yoongi asks, his brow furrowed and his hand busy rubbing his stomach that now has become prominent with his 5 months pregnancy. He sits on the counter, resting his head on his palm, looking at Namjoon that currently in a war with the pan. Yoongi giggles.

"What are you laughing about? I could have been cursed.", Namjoon says as he flips the pan over, the flames from the stove almost making him flinch away but he manages to hold it together, "but I wasn't."

"I tried to be a good husband", Namjoon says, smiling in satisfaction when he sees the egg looks decent. He lifts it up, placed it on the toast with bacon along with strawberry jam and butter too- Hobi's recipe that he grows fond of.

He grins once he finished the plating, slides it in front of his boyfriend, "Here, your breakfast. Made specially by me"

Out of every expression he was expecting from Yoongi, scrunching his face with disgust definitely is not on the list.

"Egg?", Yoongi asks with disbelief while looking down at the plate. Namjoon frowns at the tone.

" Yes? Is there anything wrong?"

Yoongi doesn't say a word, but he can see the look in his eyes. obvious Yoongi is pissed. Namjoon doesn't know what he did wrong to cause such a reaction out of his boyfriend.

He wants to apologize immediately, but his pride was holding him back. "You dont want to eat that?"

"No", Yoongi pulls the plate away again.

Now. Namjoon is pissed.

"I know i'm not a good cooker, like you, but what's wrong with that? Is me cooking for you is that bad?" Namjoon tries to defend himself, to reason with Yoongi.

But that doesn't work.

"Joon, I don't want eggs."

Namjoon looks at him. A deep frown on his lips. Yoongi never refuses an egg and always eats them before anyone else.

"What? Why?'

Yoongi huffs, " I just not ! I think i have told you thousand times before that i can't eat eggs?"

"I would've remembered if you told me. When is it?"

"You know, 2 days ago. I threw up after eating our ramen that had egg in there!", Yoongi says, voice slightly raised and Namjoon frown again, " You throw up nearly everyday and every time hyung. How am i supposed to know that it the eggs that makes you sick?", he asks and Yoongi shakes his head in defeat. "You should've known if you care about me", he pouts now. Fiddling with his sweater. Namjoon would coos at the sight right now, Yoongi's chubby cheeks, his little bump that drowns in his fluffy baby blue sweater, and the pink lips that forming a pout ... Gosh. His boyfriend is too adorable for his good — if he's not fuming with emotion right now.

Namjoon scoffs, " You're not making any sense now, Yoongi"

And that makes his boyfriend snap his head, "It's still hyung for you, Joon-ah", he points out, " And what's not make any sense? I just say that i cant eat eggs! It's making me nauseous. Why you had to make it as a big deal?"

"Well, maybe because i wake up early to prepare this and because of the egg you refused to eat it?", Namjoon ran his fingers through his blonde hair, looking at everywhere else but Yoongi as he knows he would just forget everything and apologize if he sees the older. " I can't believe we argue about the egg. Pregnancy really make you more irritable, hyung"

"Is that what you think? Me? Irritable and annoying?", Namjoon turns his gaze immediately after he registers what he just said. There is Yoongi, looking at him with tears covering his orbs.

Fuck, Namjoon, you're so stupid-

" No no hyung that whats i mean-", Namjoon stammered, moving his way to the other side of the counter, wanting to hug his boyfriend but Yoongi swatted his hand, "Then what am i suppose to take that sentence? I hear you loud and clear. Glad to know what you've been thinking this whole time", Yoongi said through his teeth, wiping his tears with the back of his hands, sniffling.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Now Namjoon feels even worse. Why was it this hard?

" Hyung", he says, trying to get closer, reaching out and grabbing Yoongi's hand to bring it into his lap. But instead, the older reach out for the plate and take a mouthful of it, "Thank you for breakfast. You should eat, we gonna be late"

"Hyung .. you shouldn't eat it if that makes you nauseous", Namjoon tells, his voice small and scared as he watches the elder slowly chewing on what he had in his mouth.

"I don't care if i vomit or something" Yoongi shrugs, taking another bite.

"But it might upset your baby—"

"You were mad at me earlier because i dont want to eat it, now you tell me not to, what do you want, Joon-ah?", Yoongi sighs.

The words are out of Namjoon's mouth. So he just stares quietly as Yoongi takes more.

" Stop staring at me and have your breakfast, Joonie"

And then the only sound of fork and knife surrounding them. Namjoon still can't tear his gaze from the older. He noticed how Yoongi could take a moment before swallowing. The hesitation everytime he gonna lift his fork, and how he takes a long time to chew. He even noticed when Yoongi's body jolts a little with quiet gag.

"You don't have to finish it hyung", Namjoon voices breaking Yoongi's nauseated haze. He hates seeing his boyfriend in pain, he doesn't want him to feel any. Yoongi shook his head as soon as he heard that.

"You made it, so i'll eat it".

He took another gulp.

A couple of minutes pass with both of them silent.

Yoongi finishes first.

He places the empty plate on the sink, before he stood up and leave for their shared bedroom, " I will get ready"

Namjoon nods softly, quickly to finish his food too before heading upstairs.

Namjoon's eyes widen once he opened their bedroom door. He can't found Yoongi anywhere, but there's a sound from the bathroom. He walks there, standing silently. His heart skipped a beat when he heard a small gag, then followed by a rush of liquid filling the bowl. Yoongi is vomiting.

He didn't bother to knock as he turns the handle.

Yoongi's eyes were screwed shut, hands wrapped around the rim of the bowl as he puked until the last bit came out. Namjoon steps further inside, looking at his boyfriend who now laid his head onto the toilet seat, eyes closed and breathing heavily.

"Are you okay?"

Yoongi shakes his head, before he groans and lifts himself again. His shoulder rolls as he belched into the bowl, more of brown vomit spilling from his lips. Yoongi's face is flushed red, his eyes are red as well, and his hair is damp because of sweat.

Namjoon approaches Yoongi, sitting beside him while rubbing circles on Yoongi's back with a comforting palm.

"You're doing great baby, let it out"

And Yoongi does. He continues emptying the contents of his stomach, gasping between his breaths with his nose scrunched up as he could register the toast he just ate, barely disgested, floating on the murky water below him. And the taste that lingers on his tongue only makes everything worst. His stomach twist, his head spins and he couldn't hold back the urge to vomit again.

"Your egg—uuurrkkkk", Yoongi manages to spit before turning his head. But the action caused the sick feeling to worsen and Yoongi pukes again.

" I know, i'm sorry, just finish it first hyung", Namjoon whispers.

When Yoongi is done throwing up. Namjoon helps him wipe his mouth with a wet towel and wipes his face with the same cloth.

"Are you feeling better?", Namjoon asks while he helped him lie down, Yoongi groaning as he did, letting himself rest on the soft mattress. His back aches after hunching over the toilet for a long time. His stomach is sore, and the baby keeps kicking there just adding more to the discomfort he felt. Then his argument that causing him to throw up earlier with Namjoon showing up.

Yoongi nods before placing a hand on his abdomen and rub soothingly, ducking his head down as he felt his emotion starts rising. Tears stinging behind his eyes, and before he knows, he sobs.

" Hey hey, baby, why are you crying?", Namjoon sits down next to his lover, hugging Yoongi close and letting the older cry against his chest. Yoongi clings onto him tightly, sobbing. " I'm sorry, hyung. I just didn't mean to make you sick, i swear."

"Everything feels horrible", Yoongi hiccups. He didn't care if his words come out slurred, " My stomach sore, the baby keeps kicking and making me nauseous, my back aches so bad and so is my feet, and your damn egg-", he rants in between sobs. Namjoon hushed him gently, rubbing his arm and kissing his crown.

"Shh, shh, i'm sorry hyung", Namjoon kisses the top of his boyfriend's head. And he continued holding him. Yoongi finally lets go of him with his tears dripping on Namjoon's shirt.

" Can we ...", Yoongi sniffles again, and it sounds like his throat hurts.

"... stay at home today? .."

Namjoon looks at him, "What?".

" I don't want to go anywhere. Now I've thrown up once, i know I will throw up more since my stomach still queasy", Yoongi mumbles.

" Okay", Namjoon answers immediately, " We can stay at home. Do you want anything?"

"No", Yoongi shuffles, getting comfortable on the bed, " but .. your baby kinda misses you. Can you stop making them kicking me?"

Namjoon looks at him, confused. "And how do i do that?"

Yoongi takes his wrist, slides his sweater up so it showed his bump, and placing Namjoon's palms there, motioning it against his skin, "Like that"

Namjoon laughs, "Just say you want me to rub your tummy and go"

"There's a baby now!", Yoongi pouts.

"Stop pouting or i will kiss you"

"I still taste like puke", Yoongi whines.

"Okay fine", Namjoon chuckles, " Your stomach grumbles loudly though. I can sense some kicking too", he says after a while.

"I know. It makes me nauseous when the baby moving a lot", Yoongi huffs in annoyance.

Namjoon giggles at his reaction, "It's nice to hear you complaining. I love you"

"Hnngg", Yoongi replies, "Don't you say i'm irritable?", he teases. Namjoon's face immediately falls, " I'm sorry hyung, I didn't mean that"

"I was teasing you Joonie", Yoongi smiles at him.

He brings him closer, "I know i become more annoying as im pregnant. But i can't help it, my mood control me most of the time"

"I know, i love you. I really didn't see it as anything annoying, but more too adorable. Seeing you pouts every time you complain", Namjoon grins, leaning forward to steal a kiss. Gaining gasps from the older, before his face scrunched and he clamping his mouth as he suddenly gagging.

" Joon-ah, trashcan. Now", Yoongi groaned.

Namjoon gets up from the bed and grabs the trashcan, walking back to Yoongi, placing it on the older laps as the silver-haired boy immediately hunching over it. Heaving trickle of bile and saliva as he still empty, haven't eaten anything yet.

Namjoon staring at him, "Why are you suddenly nauseous?"

A gag escaping his parted lips and a few seconds later Yoongi vomits again. "Your lips-", he chokes out before another bile making him jolts forward, "-it taste like eggs"

Namjoon stares at him, mouth agape. His eyes widened, "Gosh, you really hate eggs now?"

Yoongi pukes, before he nods and sniffles. Lifting his head a bit when his stomach calmed down, "I told you"

×××

"What did you cook now?", Yoongi greets his boyfriend that already busy in the kitchen, again, the next morning.

" Pancake", Namjoon says, gaining a hum from Yoongi as he propped himself on the counter.

Yoongi squints his eyes when he sees something different on their fridge. A sticky note.

He steps down from his seat, and walks -more like waddles- to there, taking the sticky notes.

"What is it, Joon?", he asks. Not aware how fast Namjoon turns his body and blush covering his cheeks.

" Shit, you're not supposed to see that"

Yoongi laughs, his shoulder shakes, "Seriously, Joonie? " Don't cook eggs. Yoongi hates eggs. Eggs ❌" ?"

Namjoon groans, taking the notes from Yoongi that still chuckling. "I just dont want to make you accidentally sick again"

"Oohh, you're down bad for me Joon-ah"

Namjoon rolls his eyes, "Shut up hyung"

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

Black lace and property damage

Summary: With your messy work hours, Bucky’s consistently inconsistent mission schedule, and those basic life tasks you’re both ignoring (when was the last time he actually bought a new toothbrush?), the simple act of just being together has been shunted to the side. Bucky’s officially starting to panic.  

Characters: Bucky x Reader Warnings: SMUT, 18+. Sweet sex, awkward sex, some dirty sex, some sex on a car. Basically sex. Swearing. Bucky wearing a white t-shirt and dog tags. My sketchy automotive knowledge.

A/N: This story is sort of an ode to anyone struggling to make time for your person. Life gets busy, so don’t be afraid to get creative. Also sometimes sex goes smooth and perfect, but often it comes with mishaps and giggles. Both ways are great, Bucky says just roll with it!

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

The porch light above the front door is out.

Was he supposed to change that before he left?

--

“I’m not touching it Bucky, there are spiders up there. Big ones. The kind that give you rabies.”

“Spiders don’t have rabies.”

“No one’s ever proven that.”

--

Dammit. Yeah, he was.

Picturing you stumbling up the porch, using the pathetic flashlight on your phone to light the way, Bucky feels like a world class, Grade A jackass. He needs to make it up to you.

Good thing he has plenty of ideas for that.

“Please be home,” he mutters, “please be home, please dear god be fucking home.”

Fingers crossed, he kicks the door open and calls out a hopeful hello.

An empty echo returns.

Bucky blows out a frustrated breath.

Figures.

Slogging down the dark hallway, he slings his bag on the kitchen table with a thud. Grenade pins, bullet casings, fun size candy bar wrappers, and handfuls of beer bottle caps rattle loose in the army green canvas and he grimaces.

One of these days, maybe, just fucking maybe, he’ll convince Natasha to stop using his bags as her garbage bin.

Ignoring that disaster zone (a problem for future Bucky), he wanders over to the sink, where he spies a small tableau on the counter. Propped up beside his favorite coffee mug, the one with sparkly pink letters proclaiming “Bitch, I’m Fabulous”, is a folded piece of paper, his name scrawled across the front.

He flips it open.

“Hey Bucky Bear. Don’t let your sexy ass fall asleep before I get home, I have a surprise!”

Drawn under your bubbly letters, he finds two stick figures entangled in an outrageously lewd sex act. Tracing tender fingers over the very obviously male stick figure (you never were very subtle), he grins so hard his cheeks ache. Leaning on the counter, he sniffs the letter because he’s a sentimental sap and it smells like your Cherry-Almond lotion, and drops his head in his arms.

“So tired,” he whines softly, voice muffled against sleek granite.

Three weeks. That was the last mission. Three weeks, even though Steve guaranteed Bucky three days max. Of course, two days into the mission Bucky remembered that Steve Rogers is an accomplished liar, so instead he spent three exhausting weeks dodging bullets, rewashing all his underwear, and hysterically rationing his bag of fun size candy bars.

Finally home, he wants to forget everything and sink into the post-mission domesticity he dreams about when he’s stuck in some dank motel on the corner of Fuck This and No One Cares. The routine is simple. A scalding hot shower, burrito wrapping himself in the feather duvet, making out with you for a few hours, taking a break to eat some pizza, and then fucking you so hard he breaks the brand new headboard he made for you last month (actually the third headboard he’s made...a fact he smugly reports to anyone and everyone).

And after all that fun, he wants to sleep. Maybe two full days. Or five. Tops.

Is that asking too much?

“No,” he sighs out loud. “It’s not.”

Carefully folding the cartoon and your sweet message, he kisses the paper and tucks it in his back pocket.

No way he’s falling asleep before he sees you. Nope. Nada. Negative. Totally not happening.

Pepping himself up, he goes to work, whizzing through his homecoming task list.

Blood-stained tac clothes go in the washer with three cups of bleach. Guns and knives are wiped down and polished. The contents of the dirty green canvas bag are unceremoniously trashed. The spider infested porch light is changed (with only three furry sightings). The shower is set to a blistering temp and he hangs out in there for an hour, soaping his hair into a foamy mohawk, belting out a few showtunes with his shampoo bottle microphone.

Scrubbed fresh and clean, he flops on the bed with his Starkpad and opens up Netflix, searching for something to keep him awake. Several scrolls later, he finds Brooklyn 99 and settles in for a laugh.

Confident in his ability to resist the appealing pull of sleep scratching at his brain, he takes a slurp of the Super Double Big Gulp sized coffee on his nightstand and stretches his eyes wide open.

Staying awake. Piece of cake.

Ten minutes later, Bucky’s fast asleep.

*****

When his eyes pop open, the room is dark. He feels tipsy, sleep drunk on his first uninterrupted hours of rest in weeks.

Beside him, he feels the cozy pressure of another body. Glancing down, he finds you curled under the sheets at his side, your face smushed against his arm, steady breaths fogging the gleaming metal.

Asleep.

Bucky grits his teeth. Squeezes his eyes shut. One thing. You asked him to do one thing.

God. Dammit.

Furious with his lame old man ass, he almost wakes you up. Almost. But then he swallows that desire and thinks.

Before he got married, Bucky read every relationship advice book under the sun. He gets the importance of keeping the romance alive. He knows you need to cherish your person, make them a priority, shower them with love. He knows. He gets it. He watches Oprah, for fuck’s sake. Relationships take work.

But lately? This is life.

With your messy work hours, Bucky’s consistently inconsistent mission schedule, and those basic life tasks you’re both ignoring (when was the last time he actually bought a new toothbrush?), the simple act of just being together has been shunted to the side.

Bucky’s officially starting to panic.

Although, he muses, eyes lingering on the innocent curve of your mouth, the chaos has forced both of you to get more…creative.

He grins.

It was you who instigated it the first time. He was lying in a dingy motel bed when you nervously offered.

--

“Hey, um…do think maybe you’d…like…would you…uh…”

“Spit it out babe.”

“Doyouwannatryphonesex?”

--

An anxious slur so fast, he nearly misses the question. He remembers that beat of hesitation, before you dove in headfirst, telling him in obscenely explicit detail exactly what you wanted to do to him. He was so shocked he dropped the phone and had to naked crawl under the grimy mattress to fish it out.

He must’ve jerked off five times that night. Replaying your filthy words. Remembering the quiet whimpers as you came on your fingers, gasping out his name. What a treat.

Sexting soon followed, accompanied by a plethora of nudes. None from you of course, because as you always remind him, you’re a lady, but Bucky? He gets irrational joy from sending them. They come in a variety of close-ups and poses, several which Sam accidentally discovered when he walked in on Bucky prancing around naked, searching for his best angle.

Sam always knocks now.

But sometimes words and pictures aren’t enough. Sometimes you need the soothing weight of someone in your arms. The scent of sweaty skin beneath your nose. Hot breaths of pleasure in your ear and the touch of a cool tongue licking across a heated body.

Sometimes he just needs you.

Could he wake you up? Sure. He knows you wouldn’t mind, you’ve told him a thousand times. But he also knows how tired you’ve been, and he can’t bring himself to shake you awake, selfishly stealing those bits of recovery you need.

So instead, he searches for something to keep him occupied.

He tries reading Game of Thrones again and gets nowhere. Thinks yet again someone needs to get George R.R. Martin an editor.

He flicks on his phone and covertly watches PornHub on mute. Seriously debates whether he can get away with jerking off while you’re sleeping because hey, Bucky Barnes is nothing if not stealthy.

He stares up at the ceiling and tries to see how long he can hold his breath. He gets 2 minutes and 8 seconds (a new record) before giving up.

In the end, he rolls onto his side stares intently at you. Wills you to wake up on your own. Come on baby, please.

But nothing works, and when sleep still doesn’t come, he decides to be productive. Crawling carefully from the bed, he smothers a laugh when you curl instantly into the warm mattress dip of his body, burrowing further under the blankets and unconsciously stealing his pillow. Most mornings Bucky wakes up hanging off the bed, no blankets or pillows to his name, while you’re swathed in comfort, cold toes shoved beneath his belly.

Maybe he should be annoyed. Except every time he looks at you, he forgets how to scowl.

Love is weird.

Rummaging silently through the closet, he unearths a threadbare pair of jeans and an oil stained t-shirt, slips into his worn leather boots. He drops a light kiss on your forehead, brushing a finger down the curve of your neck. Smiles to himself when you snuffle a quiet snore.

And he heads out the backdoor, down the weatherworn brick to the garage out back.

It was an added bonus when he bought the house. An unanticipated domestic perk. Hell, he never thought he’d find someone would actually date him, let alone someone who wanted to marry him and buy a house with him and accept his penchant for hoarding things in a rickety old garage (come on, I grew up in the Depression and I need this, he whines every time you take him to Target).  

Thank god you said yes. He’s the luckiest jerk in the world.

Flicking on the garage light, Bucky still gets a little thrill. The entire place is an homage to eclectic, random artifacts, from the box of ugly 1970s vases he found at a flea market, to the fishing equipment he insisted on buying and has yet to use, to the sack of broken seashells you drunkenly collected on your honeymoon in Costa Rica.

In the midst of the swirl sits his pride and joy. Cherry red paint, black leather seats, a tad dusty, full of potential.

The 1969 Camaro looks like a teenage wet dream.

He remembers the day he brought it home, that surge of macho pride when your eyes lit up. After you slapped his ass and told him how sexy the car was, he reveled in your admiration for maybe 10 seconds, before hauling you back to the house and under the sheets. Took several hours before you both came up for air.

That was a good time, he thinks dreamily.

The car attracted his friends as well. Sam and Steve brought over a celebratory case of beer and stood by while Bucky explained the changes he had planned. Steve gave a few sage nods, while Sam helpfully threw out words like fuel injector now and then. Neither had a fucking clue what was happening, but Bucky graciously let them fake it.

Tony also saw the car once. Got a fervent gleam in his eye and started to say the phrase jet fuel, before Bucky ushered him out the door. Tony doesn’t get to see the car anymore.

There are still plenty of fixes to make, but for tonight he takes it easy. Flips on the ancient radio perched above the workbench and flops down on a rolling seat, sliding under the Camaro to tinker around. He goes to work, lets the crackle of the radio and the mechanical puzzle lull him into focus mode.  

So intent on the task at hand, he barely hears the garage door opening.

The click of a shoe alerts him too late and he freezes, gripping his wrench tight. Muscles tense, garage floor plans and fight scenarios flooding his brain.

“Bucky? Do you have a sec?”

His breath whooshes in relief at your voice. A silly grin bubbles up because you’re finally awake, until he tilts his head sideways, peering out from under the car to see your feet.

Black high heels.

Stomach sinking, Bucky closes his eyes. Back to work then. Motherfucker. He missed his chance again.

Swallowing down the bitter disappointment, he croaks out a plea.

“Hey babe, do you gotta go back to the office so soon? Can you just - “

Click click and you step between his legs. Firm hands clutch the oil stained fabric at his knees and you pull. The seat rolls easily and he slides free, squinting up at you in the dim light.

The words die on his lips.

Black high heels, yes.

And.

Lacy black underwear, the sides held together with thick satin ribbons. A lacy black bra, your breasts threatening to spill out.

Gorgeous, devilish smile.

Fingering the wide satin bow between your breasts, you tease a light tug and Bucky starts sweating like a virgin on prom night. His wrench slips from numb fingers, thunking him in the nuts and clattering away.

“Shit,” he grunts. There’s a moment of confusion on whether the fresh ache in his balls is from the punch of the wrench, or tantalizing swathes of skin before him, but then you say his name and he figures it out pretty fucking fast.

“Hey Bucky Bear,” you purr, in that raspy voice he loves. “Still want that surprise I promised?”

Palming himself roughly, Bucky adjusts the suddenly tight front of his jeans, eyeing you with a lusty smile. Fuck yes, he wants his surprise. He wants everything about you.

“You bet your sweet ass I do. What’d you have in mind?”

“I have some ideas,” you say playfully. Stepping closer, slipping your fingers into his silky hair, he leans into the touch. “And I promise we’ll get to them. But first, how about you stay down there and maybe show me how much you missed me?”

Torn, Bucky looks down at his oil stained fingers. They spasm, clutching the edge of the seat so tight the metal bends. His voice drops several octaves.

“Babe, I - shit, I’m gonna kill the mood here, but my hands are all dirty, I should wash ‘em first,” he apologizes. Rolling your eyes, you shift closer until the edge of his nose is a mere inch from the delicate lace panties.

“I’m not asking for your hands, soldier. You have a mouth. Get creative.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. Sassy and domineering? And nearly naked?

Hell yes, his dick shouts. Here we fucking go.

Warm and cool, tentative fingertips press into the smooth skin behind your knees, stroking higher until he’s plucking the satin ribbons and pulling. It feels like Christmas morning when the knot slowly breaks apart, whispers of satin and lace floating to the ground.

Nosing against your core, he inhales, long and deep. A low growl rumbles, rough hands gripping your hips tight and heat explodes across your skin when his tongue presses into your folds, licking over your clit.

“God,” your moan is dark, desperately breathless, “keep - that feels so good, Bucky, keep going, please, been way too long.”

Bucky gives a fervent nod of agreement, strands of his dark hair tickling your thighs. When was the last time he did this? Nah, you know what? If he has to ask, it’s been too long.

From now on, the only correct answer should be every damn day.

He feels you moving his head, guiding him exactly where you need him most, and he hums hungrily. Shoves his tongue deeper. He adores when you take charge, using him, his mouth or his fingers or his dick, to get yourself off. He loves it, dreams about it, wishes you would let him film it just one time (because sometimes missions last three weeks not three days Steve).

But until then, he devotes himself to making it perfect because you deserve perfect.

Fast, firm flicks of the tongue. Long, leisurely strokes, licking you slow and sweet. Rough pressure, his plush pink lips sucking tight around your clit. So good.

Your eyes fall closed as his tongue moves faster, quicker, pushing you closer closer closer -  

No, that won’t do. Cold metal lightly pinches your ass, a bid for attention. Chest heaving, you open your eyes.

Bright eyed and eager, Bucky gazes up from between your legs, looking thoroughly debauched. White t-shirt stretched tight across broad shoulders, dark hair mussed in your fingers, an obvious erection straining his jeans.

So close, you’re so close, right on the edge, just another second -

He knows, of course. Could always play you like a fiddle. He cocks a challenging eyebrow, sucks your clit between his teeth -

“Oh god, Bucky, fuck,” you moan. Weak knees buckle and his hands clutch your ass, keeping you upright and open. He never stops licking, swirling that talented tongue to draw out the bursts and shocks of pleasure until you’re gasping. When he’s wrung every drop from you, he kisses the sensitive bud and tips his head back with an arrogant smirk.

Legs like jelly, you promptly collapse into his lap.

The momentum of the fall sends the rolling seat flying. Busy being chivalrous and keeping you from tumbling headfirst onto dirty concrete, Bucky lets the wheels send him whizzing backward. His head smacks the door handle with a sharp thwack.

“Ow,” he grunts.

“Sorry,” you pant. Struggling for breath, wrapped in the haze of post orgasm bliss, you cuddle against him, soaking up his warmth. “Want me to rub it?”

Massaging his head, he wrinkles his nose. “Maybe. Depends on what you’re offering to rub.”

“Dealer’s choice,” you sass, and Bucky barks out a laugh. Wandering hands skim lightly over your shoulders, fingering the straps of the lacy bra, feather light trails along your collarbone, to the satin bow between your breaks. Tugging impatiently, he smiles when it unwinds, your breasts spilling free.

“Well, how about I take my pants off, we get in the backseat of this car, and you rub whatever you find.”

“Intriguing. What happens after I finish rubbing whatever…pokes my fancy?”

Bucky dips his head, takes your nipple between his lips, sucking gently. The feel of his wet mouth has you squirming closer until he pauses to offer an option.

“Maybe we fuck like a couple horny teenagers?”

“You’re killing me with the romance here, Barnes,” you say drily and he chuckles. “But I was maybe thinking something different.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

Licking a lazy strip between your breasts, he kisses up, up, up, until his tongue finds the hammering pulse of your heartbeat. Bemused, he hears your voice falter, before bravely offering your idea.

“I was thinking maybe I sit on the hood of your pretty red car, and – and you spread my legs and fuck me so good, I can’t walk for a week.”

Startled, Bucky pulls back. Excitement explodes in his chest.

“You - really? Seriously? That’s what you want?”

“Yep,” you confirm, palpable relief at successfully executing the dirty request. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Bucky plants a sloppy kiss on the tip of your nose. Wiggles his eyebrows and winks.

“Well god damn. You got it sweet cheeks.”

Wasting no time, he pushes off the ground and you kick your heels off, wrapping your legs around his waist. He huffs out a blissful moan when you suck a string of hickeys down his neck, grinding against you as he stumbles to the front of the car. Without thinking, he drops you on the shiny red hood and -

“Cold!”

Icy metal meets your bare ass. There’s a panicked scramble back into his arms and he manages to catch you, until your flailing upper cut cracks his jaw. It sends him off balance, tripping forward to smack his kneecaps on the Camaro’s fancy new grill. A grating screech tears the air and the grill rattles to the floor, the metallic clang bouncing off the walls.

Flinching, you peer up at him as it fades away.

Bucky’s nose twitches.

In all his fantasies (and there are many, because you are one sexy piece of ass), this shit never happens. Every sexcapade is effortlessly smooth, sensual and steamy, where you both look great, not a hair out of place, no oil-stained hands or unintended destruction of expensive vintage cars.

In reality, it seems like something always goes sideways. One of his nipples gets gouged by your fingernail or the silk from your negligee gets caught in the plates of his arm, or one of his perfectly aimed thrusts sends you both toppling off the bed. Sometimes he wonders if this is just the two of you? Do other people have perfectly orchestrated sex lives? Is porn not a true mirror of real life?

Is porn a lie?

Maybe he should watch more porn and form a more educated opinion.

For now, he takes in your crestfallen expression, vehemently shaking his head when you try to apologize.

“Buck, I’m sorry, I -“

Holding up a stern hand, he stops you cold. Sets you on your feet, gallantly whipping off his shirt, and spreading it on the shiny red paint. This time when he sets you on the hood, you lay back until the familiar scent of his cologne hugs you close. Bucky lifts your feet, propping each on the hood, spreading your legs open. He leans in close, a pink flush spreading over his chest, crawling up his throat, blue eyes turning dark.  

“Listen to me. Don’t ever apologize, okay? You’re worth more than this old junker.” A crooked smile tilts his mouth, his voice as soft as the lips now brushing yours. “You’re priceless. You understand?”

“Okay,” you murmur. Fingers dance lightly up the hard planes of his stomach, wrapping around the chain of his old dog tags. “I understand.”  

Bucky nods, watching your eyes drift down, drinking him up. He lives for that look. Sets him on fire, to watch you ogle him. When your eyes skate down his right side, he flexes his forearm a bit, because he knows it turns you on.   

A swift tug of the chain and he dips easily, mouth slanting over yours. There’s a faint sound of teeth clacking together, and he stifles a laugh at your excitement. Deep kisses, stoking that simmering fire sitting right below the surface. Your lips part and he slides inside, curling his tongue around yours, pulling away to lick along the corner of your mouth, to suck your bottom lip between his teeth.

The thought appears, same as when he had his mouth between your legs. How long has it been since the two of you just made out like this? Same answer? Too fucking long?

This is definitely happening more often.  

He feels your eager fingers reach for the button of his jeans, popping it open, slipping your hand inside. Cool fingers wrap tight around his cock, the other hand wandering down to squeeze a handful of his ass. Bucky hurriedly shimmies his pants to his knees, sets both hands on the car and leans forward, tipping his face down, touching his forehead to yours. Blue eyes flutter closed, breath hitching while he concentrates on the feel of your capable hands, slow strokes along his length, slicker with each tug.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he grits out. “Can you - damn that’s good - can you, there, bit lower -“

Ragged pants melt into a low groan when you slip your hand from the death grip on his ass to cup his balls, rolling them against your palm.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, yeah, yes, fuck yes, just like that,” he hisses, thrusting into your hands. “Can you - can you pull just a little-“

He stammers the question, ignoring your amused hum. It was a quirk, one he discovered early in the relationship. It came out of the blue, a bashful request during a romp in the sheets, but for some reason, Bucky has a thing for having his balls tugged. Not hard (which was also discovered after an unconsciously rough yank had him squealing in pain), but more of a soft squeeze, followed by a slow pull.

Like how you squeeze an overripe banana, he had explained later, gingerly massaging his balls. Not so hard it squishes.

Many entertaining attempts later, and he swears you have the move patented. Stroking his dick faster, your thumb presses over his balls, before a careful pull. Tipping his head back, Bucky stares glass eyed at the ceiling, lost in pleasure, pushing himself into your firm grip.  

“Feel good?” you murmur.

“Yeah. Yes, so good, so god damn good ,” he chokes out. Faster, harder, faster - and then a strangled gasp and panicked blue eyes catch yours. “Wait, too good, it’s too good! Don’t wanna come yet, hang on! Need to be inside you first.”

He grabs your wrists, the thwarted sting of a denied orgasm obvious in the grind of his teeth. Both of you look down to where your hands are wrapped around him, one still kneading his balls, the other curled around the velvety hot skin of his cock.

“Okay,” you say, looking him up and down. “Fine, but - you’re so sexy, Bucky. And I love your balls.”

Bucky nods furiously, gulping a deep lungful of air. His ass cheeks are twitching.

“I love that you love them, I really do. But babe, I need you to let go of my balls or I’ll come all over your hand,” he rasps, wiggling away. Releasing him, your hands run up his chest, twining around his neck, dragging his sweat damp chest flush against you.

“If I must,” you agree, smiling into his lips. Bucky relaxes into you, the slow melt of tongues follows, the kind where a kiss bounces around, until it finds the perfect rhythm. His hands trace up the line of your arms, unlocking your fingers and pulling them free. Brushing his thumbs over your wrists, he bends close, kisses your knuckles.

And then he folds your arms above your head, pinning them down.  

“Keep them there, alright? Don’t move until I say you can.”

“Kinky. Yes sir,” you breathe. He smirks.

“You’d better watch it, you little deviant. I might get used to that.”

“Sorry…sir.”

Pulling you further down the hood, he rubs his cock between your legs, sliding himself between your folds until a slick sheen coats his skin. It startles a grunt from you when he abruptly shoves inside, sinking deep until his hips press flush to yours.  

He waits. Has to wait actually, because its been a long damn time and if he’s not careful he’s going to embarrass himself before he even gets started and holy shit, is this even real life? Is he dreaming?

Splayed out on the hood of his car, legs wide open, breasts wet from his tongue, black lace and crumpled satin ribbons. Arms pinned above the luscious skin bared just for him. Bucky stares between your legs, dry mouthed and dizzy.

“Come on, Bucky, please? Fuck me, please fuck me, I missed you so much.”

How could he ever resist this? You naked, writhing against the vivid red of his Camaro, moaning for him to fuck you, with his cock buried in your -

“Aw fucking hell,” he mutters. After so many weeks apart, he knows full well this won’t last long. It’s a damn good thing he has more than a few rounds in him.

Cracking his neck, rolling his shoulders back, he digs thick fingers into your thighs, pulls back nice and slow. He waits. Waits. Waits a bit longer because he likes to be an asshole and hear you beg.

“Bucky, come on -”

And he plunges into you, burying himself in the tight, silky heat of your cunt. Warm up over, no slow start. The pace he sets is rough, so deep he feels the pleasure licking down his spine and into his toes. Over and over, he slams into you until one particularly sharp thrust presses the tip of his cock against that perfect spot inside and you arch up with a broken cry. Hands scrabble above your heard, searching for anything to hold onto, finding something flexible.

With a plastic snap, the windshield wiper blade breaks off in your hand.

Bucky stutters to a halt, blinking sweat from his eyes when he sees the look of horror on your face. The apology is still forming when he snatches the plastic from your fingers, throwing it aside.

“Don’t care,” he grunts. Giving you no time to argue, he wraps his hands behind your knees and raises your hips, fucking into you faster. The filthy echo of sweat slick skin accompanies his breathless order. “Touch yourself. Let me watch.”

A frantic agreement and one hand slips between your legs, the other cupping your breast. Frantic circles over the swollen bud, trembling fingers plucking at a pebbled nipple. Bucky watches greedily, eyes flickering back and forth, memorizing those things that bring you pleasure, fantastically dirty memories to replay on a rainy day.

“Bucky,” desperate fingers rub your clit faster. “Keep going, please keep - keep doing that, I’m close, I’m so close, I’m -“

Sharp and sweet and unexpected, the orgasm crashes into you. Arching up, the low moan tears free, and Bucky slows, hypnotized by the sight of you shuddering beneath him.

“There you go, that’s it,” he urges hoarsely, before surging forward and capturing your lips in a wild kiss. Two more pumps of his hips and he stops, grinding against you until he comes with a heavy groan.

Silence fills the room, broken only with the sounds of harsh breaths and the wet rush of his heartbeat thumping in his ears. He rests his forehead between your breasts, listening to the staccato beat of your quick breaths, until you struggle up onto your elbows, pushing his sweaty hair away from his face.

“So I broke your car.”

He says nothing, but a moment later his shoulders begin to shake and suddenly he’s laughing, great rushing wheezes as he struggles for breath. Raising his head, he finds you nervously squinting down at him. He stretches up, presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I got insurance. Just need to check my coverage for mildly destructive ‘I missed you’ sex.”

“You might consider expanding that policy. I’m just saying,” you suggest with a giggle and he snorts.

Quiet contentment blankets the stuffy garage, both of you basking in that tingly afterglow. Folding your hands behind his neck, you draw him close and Bucky nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

“Been tough lately,” he whispers, mouthing gently along your throat. “Trying to find time together.”

Nodding slowly, your smile turns wistful.

“Yeah…guess it makes any time we get even better. Right? It doesn’t matter to me what we do, as long as we’re doing it together.”

Bucky feels a lump in his throat (the kind that could easily dissolve into manly super soldier tears), and he gathers you in his arms, tucking you against his chest. When he answers, his voice cracks just a bit.

“Someone’s a sentimental sap.”

He hears your muffled laugh against his chest, feels you bite at his collarbone and he chuckles.

“I love you Bucky. And I’m really sorry I murdered your car.”

“I love you too, babe. I’m glad you came down here. Especially in that outfit.”

“Yeah? You liked it?”

“Fuck yes I did. What spurred that idea, hmm?”

“I just don’t want to lose our spark,” you admit, snuggling closer. “When things get so busy, it’s easy to let things like this slide, and I don’t want you to - get bored, I guess. With us.”

Bucky thinks about all his relationship advice articles and the fact that he sometimes even prints them out and goes through with a yellow highlighter to capture the key points. Hearing your soft concern makes him fall even more in love with you.

Because this is important. This relationship, this love, this spark he was lucky enough to find with you, it’s the most important thing in his world. You are the most important thing in his world.

Brushing a knuckle down your cheek, he coaxes your chin up.

“I know it’s tough, always being on different schedules, but I want you to know, I’m always gonna love you and I’m always gonna want you. Nothing changes that. And if you ever doubt just how much I genuinely want to bang you all night long, then you say something. Deal?”

He boops your nose and you grin.

“Deal.”

“And honey, not that I’m complaining, trust me, but you don’t need to dress sexy to get me all reved up,” he shrugs. “You do that just by looking at me.”

“You do know how to charm the pants off a lady, Barnes.”

He throws his head back and laughs. Swings you up in his arms and calms your startled yelp with a kiss.

“Damn straight. Now how about we give that backseat a try. I think you mentioned wanting to rub something back there?”

*****

[apocalypseornaw]

Love You too Late (Pt 2 Angst ending)

With lyrics of the song "I can't love you back"

"I can love you in the morning

I can love you all day

I can love you even more when I get home"

Weeks had passed since you left the bunker. Weeks since Dean had seen your smile first thing in the morning. Weeks since he'd felt your arms around him as the two of you slept. Weeks since he'd gotten to kiss you or hear you laugh.

You wouldn't answer the phone when he called. Even when he tried using Sam's number you'd simply texted back saying that you were alive. You were in pain because of him. You were living with the thought that he didn't love you and that was breaking him.

"I can love you every second

To the ends of the earth

Where needing you's the only thing that's on

My broken one track mind"

It was early one morning when his phone started ringing. He wiped sleep from his eyes and scrambled for it. He didn't have to look to know it was you, the ringtone was one you'd set.

"Sweetheart?" He asked hopeful that maybe just maybe you were calling to say you were coming home. "Dean I'm sorry for leaving, for not answering all the times you've called" there was something in your voice that made his stomach flip. He'd heard people he cared about fade away one too many times

"What happened?" He asked and you swallowed hard. You were hoping to not break on the phone with him but it was hopeless. You were dying and just wanting to hear his voice one more time. "You told me not to hunt alone. It was only supposed to be one werewolf."

He was already on his feet and headed to Sam's room. "Tell me where you are. I'll get someone to you. You'll be ok" you closed your eyes as the tears started to flow "Dean no one can get to me fast enough. I just I needed to hear you again"

Sam woke up the moment Dean opened his door and he heard his older brother say your name begging you to hold on.

"Girl, I love you crazy

It comes so easy, after all we had"

The road stretched out in front of them. Miles until they would reach you. They'd sent Garth ahead since he was closer but Dean was still talking to you. "Sweetheart listen to me. I need you. I can't do this without you. Please hold on. Come home" "Dean I'm so tired" you whispered and he didn't try to stop the tears "Don't sleep. Please just stay awake. I love you I know I never said it before but god i love you so just stay awake until Garth gets to you"

Your words started to slur and he knew no matter how bad he didn't want to admit it that he was going to lose you for good this time "I'll always love you Dean"

"I could love you with all my heart

But the hardest part is

I just can't love you back"

Dean stayed on the phone even after you went silent, after you didn't respond to him screaming your name. He heard when Garth made it to your side. He heard him talking to whoever was with him. He heard them try to save you and heard them say you were gone.

"I could write a thousand letters

Call a hundred times a day

Or try to drown my sorrow at the bar"

Dean had never seen a hunter's funeral with as many people as there were around your pyre.

People you'd saved that heard from hunters they had kept in contact with. Fellow hunters who respected you. Hell Crowley had even sent condolences. Sam talked to everyone, Dean didn't care who showed up. You were gone and it was his fault. If he hadn't let you leave you'd still be alive.

"But it still won't change the way things really are

Won't bring you back again"

The scene had been bloody and messy. Bodies strewn all around. You hadn't went down easy.

Garth tried to stop him from seeing you like that. Sam had too but he'd went to his knees at your side. You were slashed across your face slicing your upper lip and left eye. Your chest was cut open and so was your stomach. He had no clue how you'd even fought long enough to call him.

He couldn't wrap his head around anyone loving him as much as you had. The phone still lay in your bloody hand. "I'm so sorry sweetheart" he whispered leaving a light kiss against your forehead.

"I can love you for all I'm worth

To the ends of the earth

But I just can't love you back"

If the funeral had been hell getting your box of belongings from Garth had been worse.

Tucked inside your journal was photos of him and you, him and Sam and a couple of all three of you. On the very last entry your words read I miss him. I miss Sam. I just want to go home. You had crossed through those words then wrote as soon as I get through with this hunt, I'm going to the bunker and talk to him. He's been trying to call. I think he's not afraid anymore. I think he really does love me and wants me to come back

If only him loving you could bring you back.

[clumsyclifford]

i typed out a Whole thing and then changed my mind but how about like lazy sunday in before the work week w t-shirt verse jalex? ily bye x

omg hello this got (1) away from me and (2) so ridiculously romantic i have no excuse. there’s just something about t-shirt jalex. also i am currently taking suggestions for what color alex’s hair should be in this ‘verse bc as of now it is unspecified. okay hope you like it x

read here on ao3

Alex is at the stove. Jack’s barely awake and this is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Morning,” he croaks, slumping forward to affix himself to Alex’s back. Alex staggers, laughing quietly.

“Good morning, my love,” he says. The kitchen always feels somehow both bigger and cozier with Alex in it, spacious but flooded with love. Love, Jack finds, smells like pancakes and tastes like Alex’s toothpaste and feels like sunlight and the cotton of Alex’s shirt under his fingers. It fits nicely into Jack’s kitchen. Their kitchen. 

Their kitchen. Jack is still having a hard time getting used to that.

“You didn’t have to get up,” he mumbles against Alex’s shoulders. “Coulda slept in.”

Alex shrugs. “Was up anyway. Thought it’d be nice to make breakfast.”

“But it’s nice to cuddle,” Jack points out, eyes still closed. He presses his nose into Alex’s neck, inhaling deeply. “Mm, you’re warm.”

Alex’s deep, gentle laugh fills the air. “You’re clingy.”

“It’s cold,” Jack slurs. Slowly but surely, the atmosphere is seeping into his senses, pleasantly waking him up. “I love you for making pancakes.”

“I know you do.”

“Gonna make tea.”

“I prepared your mug and boiled the water already. You just need to pour it.”

“Have I mentioned lately that you’re the love of my life?” Jack presses his lips to the tattoo behind Alex’s ear, lingering a moment.

“Doesn’t hurt to hear,” Alex says happily. Jack reluctantly detaches himself from his boyfriend’s body to go and make himself some tea. 

Tea is a weekend drink. Jack drinks coffee to get through the mind-numbing work days, but tea is for Sundays like this one. It’s nine in the morning and Jack can already feel the laziness of the day settling over their shoulders; they’re going nowhere today, doing nothing. It’s not often a perfect Sunday comes along, but Jack clings to the opportunity whenever it does. Like today.

Dust hovers in the beams of light stretching through the room and the apartment feels alight with a glittering January. Unlikely warmth starts in Jack’s chest and spreads outwards, something he can’t even attribute to the tea since he hasn’t begun to drink it yet.

Glancing over at Alex, humming to himself as he flips the pancakes, the warmth intensifies. Oh, Jack thinks, not particularly surprised.

It stands to reason that the love filling the kitchen would saturate his body as well.

-

Light spills over Alex, highlighting strands of hair and shining on his skin, brown eyes glowing almost as golden as the sunlight. It makes Jack wonder why he’s not a poet or something, except there aren’t words for this image, and Jack would be hard-pressed to come up with an original way to phrase what thousands of artists have already expressed.

He takes a picture. They’re worth a thousand words, if what they say is true, and that’s close enough.

Alex looks up at the movement. Jack just smiles and shamelessly takes another, catching the fond look on Alex’s face before setting his phone face-down on the table again.

“Stop it, you creep,” he says. “Help me with this.”

“Alex, I’m so fucking bad at crosswords,” Jack says, shifting his chair around the table anyway. “You know this.”

“But you know things that I don’t! Together we can solve it.”

“You could also solve it on your own.”

Alex shakes his head. “You’re overestimating my skills. I don’t think I’ve completed a Sunday puzzle in, uh, my entire life.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you,” Jack says wryly, “but I am not your secret weapon.”

Alex reaches for Jack’s hand and brings it to his lips, brushing a kiss over Jack’s knuckles. “Yes you are.”

Jack sighs. He’s a sucker for Alex and he doesn’t see that trend slowing anytime soon. “Fine. Give me one.”

“Here, I bet you know this one.” A tap of the pen against the newspaper next to the clue for 6-Down. “‘For You’ co-singer Rita.”

“Ora,” Jack says immediately. “Everyone knows that song.”

“Ora,” Alex repeats to himself, like something he should have known to know. “Actually, I didn’t. See? Already fulfilling your secret weapon duties.”

The puzzle is sparsely and randomly filled out. “Why don’t you go in order?”

“Because I don’t know 1-Across,” Alex says. “And if I stopped there it’d be a very short puzzle.”

Jack hums, skimming the list of clues for any other answers he might have. Most of the clues he thinks he could get are ones Alex has already filled in. Some are ones Jack would never have known. “What the fuck is a superlative prefix? ‘Most’?”

“Yeah, like…high school superlatives,” Alex says. “Most likely to make it big. Most likely to, uh, go to jail after graduation.”

“What the fuck were your high school superlatives?” Jack says, amused. “I didn’t know that’s what they were called.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure this is wrong, though,” Alex says, face drawn in thought. He’s doing the hair-twirling thing again so Jack interrupts the motion, linking their fingers together and scratching gently at the nape of Alex’s neck. Alex hardly seems to notice. “Because I’m pretty sure 4-Down is ‘prince’.”

“‘Hamlet, for one,’” Jack reads from the clues list. He shakes his head. “I’m starting to think you’re smarter than me, Al.”

“Starting to?”

Jack scoffs and stabs at the remaining pancake on Alex’s plate, mostly because he knows Alex isn’t going to finish it. “Hey.”

“I’m teasing, completely joking,” Alex says, leaning into Jack and briefly resting his cheek against Jack’s shoulder. “I’m definitely not smarter than you. I teach middle school. If anything, that automatically makes me more of a dumbass.”

“You love doing that, though.”

Alex sighs. “Yeah. You can love something and still be an idiot for doing it, though.”

“Like being in a relationship with you.” Jack giggles. “Joking. Just kidding. I’m just kidding.”

“You better be,” Alex says lightly. “I know a lot of your deepest darkest secrets, Jack Barakat, and I am not afraid to unleash a pack of twelve-year-olds on you.”

Jack would like to argue that a horde of twelve-year-olds doesn’t scare him, but it does. It very much does.

“Fine,” he says. “You win this round.”

Alex kisses his cheek. As he moves away, Jack turns his head and kisses him on the lips. “You taste like pancakes.”

“You taste like you,” Alex replies, and it doesn’t sound sweet, but it really, really is. Jack licks his lips. He’s not sure what exactly he tastes like, but it charms him to think that it’s always more or less the same, or at least that Alex finds something familiar in every kiss he steals off Jack’s lips. 

“Okay,” he says, leaning over the newspaper spread out before them. “We can do this. Who was in The Irishman?”

-

Whoever said that thing about how it’s better to have tried and failed than to never have tried at all might have been onto something.

They concede to the crossword puzzle after almost an hour of staring at it. To Jack it seems pathetic, until Alex grins at him and promises that this is rather impressive considering when he tries to do it alone he only ever gets, like, ten answers, and they’re often wrong. 

Half-finished really isn’t so bad.

The rest of the afternoon and evening stretches out before them, in all its unscheduled glory, and Jack, like the mature adult he is, pulls Alex to the couch and insists they spend at least three hours of the day watching TV.

His second mug of tea is sitting, partially drunk, on the coffee table, Alex’s empty mug beside it. Jack’s is going cold but he’s warm with Alex’s head in his lap, eyes closed as Jack pushes a hand through his hair, and he can’t find it in himself to care. As a compromise, they’ve put on Project Runway, something Alex loves Jack enough to sit through but doesn’t care enough about to pay attention to. If Jack were a more petty person, he would be annoyed by this, but he’s not. Having Alex like this is arguably better, essential in the task of keeping Jack’s thighs warm and also giving Jack something to look at when the urge strikes him.

The angles of Alex’s face and the way his hair flops over his forehead are enough to keep Jack mesmerized for hours.

It’s in one of these moments of weakness, Jack gazing down at the boy in his lap instead of watching the high-stakes but decidedly less enchanting events unfold on the TV, that Alex opens his eyes. His gaze catches Jack unawares, but Jack doesn’t flinch.

“You’re not even watching,” Alex huffs, smirking. “It was your idea to watch something and you aren’t even watching it.”

“I’ve got a better view right here,” Jack says.

Alex just rolls his eyes. “C’mere,” he says, grabbing clumsily at the front of Jack’s shirt.

“I don’t think I am physically capable of kissing you from this angle.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” Alex picks his head up and pulls Jack down, and it’s not ideal or particularly attractive, but Jack has to admit that they do, technically, kiss, thus proving Jack wrong, which is probably in Alex’s top ten favorite things to do. Only for a second, though, before Jack pulls away.

“I stand corrected, but I also kind of hated that,” he says.

Alex laughs, musical and bright. “Sorry. Let me try again.” He shifts around, straightening up until his feet are on the floor and his body is upright, and this time Jack has no complaints when Alex curls his fingers around the collar of Jack’s t-shirt and drags him in. 

Project Runway isn’t exactly the ideal soundtrack to making out on the couch, but Jack’s not picky.

A fluttering touch lands on Jack’s hip, sneaking just under the hem of his shirt to rest against his skin. Alex releases Jack’s shirt, sliding his other hand up and around to cradle Jack’s face, thumb brushing his jaw. The show in the background fades to nothing, as so often the world does when Alex’s lips are on his. Everything is Alex and Alex is everything — and maybe that’s always true, but it’s easier to sink into when they’re attached in so many places, lips under teeth and noses brushing cheeks and hands forever tracing skin, clothes, hair, whatever ends up beneath Jack’s fingertips. 

It’s looking more and more like the love in the kitchen hadn’t been confined to the kitchen. Or maybe it had never been about the kitchen, but the company. And maybe Jack has known this all along, and the love he feels for Alex follows him around like a stray dog, like a best friend, like a promise. It bleeds from him, infusing itself into the air without ever lessening in himself. Sometimes it trips off his tongue.

Often it does.

“I love you,” Jack murmurs, like he’s just a ragdoll stuffed with love who’s coming apart at the seams, another stitch undone whenever Alex touches him. He’ll keep spilling this love over them and somehow he’ll never run out, and if that makes him weak then Jack is content to be weak. 

Alex only laughs a little, but it’s not mean-spirited, just sweet. “Would it surprise you to know that I love you, too?”

It wouldn’t. This is the secret to Jack’s never-ending supply: the love he gives is the love he receives.

“I love you for making me breakfast,” Jack whispers, pressing his lips to Alex’s cheek, just outside the corner of his eye. “And for the tea. And for making me do the crossword puzzle with you. And for watching shitty reality TV with me.” With each proclamation he brushes a kiss to Alex’s forehead, his other cheek, the corner of his mouth. Alex’s smile stretches across his face, crinkling his eyes by the time Jack kisses him again, for real, though he still returns it to the best of his ability.

It doesn’t last long. “You don’t play fair, JB,” Alex breathes, then laughs again like he can’t help it. “What am I supposed to say to that?”

“You could start with ‘I love you too,’” Jack suggests, slanting a breezy smile at Alex. “That usually works.”

Alex gathers Jack’s wrists in his hands and kisses his palms, one after the other, before lifting his gaze back to Jack. In the light of the apartment, Jack has never seen anyone more beautiful. The truth of his own earlier words washes over him like a sedative, a comforting tranquilizer. 

“Doesn’t feel like enough,” Alex admits, “but I’m not sure this love can be put into words, you know?”

Jack does know.

“Though it’s worth saying,” Alex continues, sliding his hands into Jack’s until their fingers are interlaced, “that I love you for doing the impossible crossword with me, and I love your half-drunk cups of tea, and I loved you in the morning and I love you right now and when we go to sleep tonight, I’ll love you then, and every night after that for the rest of my life, you know what? I’ll love you for those too.”

Jack understands that these are big, big words, promises that are much easier to make than keep. But with Alex holding his gaze and his hands right now, sheltered from the real world or maybe creating it, he knows that Alex means every word, and Jack does too.

[serendipitykpop]

distant love

Pairing: huang renjun x reader

Summary: “Our distant love.”

You glanced at the clock.

It was nearly time.

You couldn’t help feeling restless as you watched the minutes tick by. There were only a few minutes until he called. When you can hear him again. When you can see him again. When you can be with him again.

3. 2. 1.

And your phone rang. Right on the dot of midnight.

You smiled, rolling onto your side as you clicked the answer button. Then, there he was.

“Renjun,” You softly called him.

Upon hearing your sweet voice, his beaming face came into view. His smile was as big as ever. He couldn’t contain his excitement anymore and it was obvious to see that he was happy to see you.

“Y/N!”

You laughed. “Someone’s got energy today.”

“Just finished a concert and showered, so I’m still full of adrenaline.”

Your eyes softened. Even though he pushed himself beyond his limit sometimes, was hard on himself so many times, you knew he loved performing. It was his calling. His dream.

“How was it?”

Renjun’s eyes shone as he spoke energetically about the concert. What songs they sang, the segments they did, the shenanigans they pulled and how the fans reacted to all of it. He always pulled you in when he spoke of this. It made you want to see him sooner, to see him doing what he was so immersed in.

While he spoke, you admired the way his face lit up at the mention of the fans. His voice would get a little excited at parts here and there, exaggerating some of the words to emphasize certain parts. His smile was beautifully dancing across his lips and his arms swung around to show everything he spoke of. It was endearing.

“It was amazing!” He breathed at the end of his speech and looked up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and smiled, remembering back to the feelings he had during their show. He then laughed and opened his eyes. His cheeks grew a rosy red as he grew shy looking at you. “I rambled for too long again, didn’t I?”

You shook your head.

“You’re passionate about what you’re doing. It’s cute when you get like this.”

He huffed, laying down on his side. “You’re teasing me. Mean.”

“I am not. I truly mean it, Renjun, when I say I love seeing you like this.”

His cheeks grew redder, which only made you laugh. Adorable.

“But you know. After all of the bright lights and screaming fans, I’m glad that I get to come home to you.”

“Even when I’m a thousand miles away?”

Renjun smiled. “Even when you’re a thousand miles away, you’re still in my heart. Facetiming you like this every night is the same as if I was ending the night with you.”

Now, it was your turn to blush.

You let out a groan and pulled your blanket up to hide your embarrassment.

“Renjun!”

He laughed.

Despite his busy schedule, he always found time to facetime you every night. One reason was to catch up with you and see his beautiful partner after a long day. Then, the other reason was to help the loneliness he felt when he was so far apart from you.

“Now, how was your day, my love?”

You peeked one eye out from your blanket and grinned. You pulled away, so that he could see you.

Then, you explained how you were finally able to do nothing for once. You were always pounded with all this school work during the weekdays. You tried your best to stay on top of things, but was never able to get a day off where you could just relax. But this time, you managed to do so and it was well worth it because you did absolutely nothing all day.

Renjun’s honey laughter rang through the phone. 

“Sounds very productive,” He would tease, but he was glad. You were one to overwork yourself as well. You never knew when to stop doing work and relax. It was equally difficult to get you to relax as you would try to do the same.

“Do you feel better?”

“So much better. I think this is the most motivated I’ve ever been. Maybe I’ll do something crazy tomorrow like go running!”

“Really?”

You chuckled. Caught red-handed.  “Busted.”

The two of you continued to poke fun at the other and talk about anything and everything as the hours went by.

It was getting late in the night now.

You and Renjun should’ve said your goodbyes to go wander through the dreamland, but neither one of you could bring yourself to do so. You missed the other too much to let go so soon.

The door opened to Renjun’s room and he glanced over his shoulder to see who it was. Jaemin.

“How long are you lovebirds going to be on facetime? It’s past your bedtimes, go to bed,” He said before closing the door behind him.

Renjun tiredly laughed as he turned back to you.

“Well, you heard him. I should let you go then.”

“No,” He whined, pouting like a baby. “I want to keep talking to you.”

“But you have to get up early tomorrow. I can’t have you staying up too long.”

“I don’t care. I don’t mind.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled.

“I mind, so go to bed.”

“Nu-uh.” He stubbornly shook his head. “I want to be with you.”

“Only ten more minutes, then we’ll call it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

But those ten minutes turned into half an hour, then an hour. By now, both your words were slurring. While the two of you wanted to stay up longer, your bodies were asking for sleep. You were stubborn and fought against it.

Eventually though, there was a period where it went quiet. You and Renjun thought the other had fallen asleep, but really, you were just taking in each other’s presence.

The two of you didn’t always have to talk, but it was comforting to know the other was on the opposite side of the phone. You could do your own things or even sleep and it would make the other all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Y/N.”

“Mm?”

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

You scoffed, a small smile on your face “How can I, when you show me you do every day?”

“I just wanted to make sure.”

“My love, you make it so obvious, I could never doubt your love. You give me no reason to doubt you.”

“And that’s how I feel about you. You do absolutely everything for me and sacrifice so much. I can’t help but feel so touched when you do all the little things for me.”

“Yeah? Well, when you come to visit me, bearing all these gifts, I am bursting with happiness because it means you thought of me. You saw the gift and thought of me, thinking that I would love it. Now, that is true love.”

He laughed. “How did this turn into a competition of who loved the other more?”

You shrugged, innocently smiling.

“I think the point is that it’s obvious that we love each other very much. With all of our heart and soul.”

“That’s right.”

And as Renjun looked at you, he swore a promise to always protect that smile of yours forever and always.

“I swear I’ll continue to do so for the rest of my life.” 

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Nooo, tell me!”

He chuckled.

“Maybe someday.”

“Hm, mean.”

Your distant love with Renjun was hard to deal with a lot of the time because of the distance, but you would never trade it for the world.

[dorky-thighchi]

please I am in dire need of some slightly unknown/underrated daisuga fic recs master

forgive me anon it took me so long to reply :( but here are the following fanfics i recommend you to read. These fics deserve more kudos and hits! and I added some famous fics on the list because i forgot to add these fics on my previous fic recs list: daisuga fic recs 1 . And if you wanna discover more there are other fic recs posts; daisuga fic recs 2 | daisuga fic recs 3

here’s my fave daisuga being dorks to cheer you up!!!!daichi leaning on suga (suga’s legs)

LONG POST AHEAD AND PLEASE READ THE TAGS AND WARNINGS BEFORE READING!!!

amor et anima by theroyalsavage (cupid and psyche au)

The god of passion falls in love with a mortal man. The rest, as they say, is history.

me, i fall in love with you every single day by earlgrey_milktea (fluff)

They wrestle a bit, Daichi dropping the ladle into the pot as Koushi clings to his middle, refusing to let go. Their laughter fills the kitchen as the curry pot bubbles merrily, and Koushi thinks---not for the first time and definitely not for the last time---that there is nowhere else he’d rather be.the story of daichi and koushi, how they fall in love and never really stop.

Anywhere Else He'd Rather Be by hobbitfromtheshire (fluff)

Suga gets cold. Daichi helps him warm up.

Strike That Pose by fog_mind (Model au)

Daichi 'These shorts are too small for volleyball' Sawamura

In which Daichi is called by a modelling agency to help out and he meets a certain angelic model

First Snow by Feelsripper (First kiss/Fluff)

Walking Suga home had started out as a joke between the two of them, until Daichi realized he sort of liked it way more than he should have.

Speechless by tricerasaurus (Hotel au)

Daichi Sawamura had never in his life had trouble finding the right thing to say.

That is until an unexpected guest enters his life.

Koushi Sugawara and the Heir of Slytherin by Killthespare (Hogwarts au)

The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir beware.

Meanwhile, Suga struggles with his family's reputation. A few trouble-making Gryffindors (and one Slytherin) meddle in Daichi's love life. And, through it all, Hinata finds a very strange diary.

i love you by sugacookie (Fluff)

Daichi and Suga were sleeping shirtless in the same bed. So what? It’s not like that hadn't happened before. They had sleepovers all the time, and often chatted as they changed after practice. It was nothing new, so Suga shouldn't be acting this way, but he couldn't help it.

I Don't Love You (I Always Will) by shingekinoboyfriends (Slowburn)

Things take time. Anything that’s good, anything that matters – things like love don’t happen in an instant, the way they do in movies. They grow. They bloom.

Root of the Root by SedentaryZebra (Canon compliant)

When an extremely famous pop star comes out as gay the day before Suga’s third year of high school begins, he thinks the only impact on his life will be the extra chocolates he will need to buy to console his mother.

He’s wrong.

And That's The Way It Should Be by ofperspicacity (soulmates au)

AU where you only see your colors when you meet your soulmate (and you lose them when they die)

Everything in Sawamura Daichi's life was completely average, thank you very much, until the day he saw his colors and Sugawara Koushi was to blame.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond by themorninglark (confessions)

Suga has learned to solve his problems, save for one.

It's their graduation day, and he's staring at it.

if i tremble by crunchrapsupreme (smut)

Suga is trying to stay pieced together, but he's gradually being torn apart, broken up into a thousand little pieces, self doubt weighing his body down like a ton of bricks.

But luckily for him, Daichi isn't willing to let him break that easily.

a heavy leaf to turn by lavendrsblue (slowburn)

There’s a part of Daichi that burns steady and silver, a part that wouldn’t be there without Suga and everything he’s given to him in the years they’ve known each other.

Daichi never thought he would see them grow apart.

Iridescent by All_My_Characters_Are_Dead (dragonriders au)

Each year, flocks are formed by putting two senior dragon/rider pairs, two intermediate pairs, and five rookie pairs together. This year, Riders Sugawara and Yaku have been put in charge of Trainee Flock One. They'll have to convince the rider trainees to get along, get the dragons to cooperate - no one is sure how they ended up with every single "problem" dragon - and hopefully keep their intermediate riders, Oikawa and Nishinoya, from arguing too much over whose dragon is better.

winner in the whirlwind by tothemoon (fluff)

In which Suga beats Daichi at games and the latter finds someone to cherish.

(Or, snippets of encouragement and care under the guise of foot races, mischievous bets, and late night sessions of Mario Kart.)

You don't have to lie to me by flabmil (fluff)

Sugawara is strong, but Daichi is there to remind him that he doesn’t always have to be.

Answers Without Questions by SecretMaker (slight angst and smut)

Koushi had learned a long time ago to stop wanting things. He learned to stop wishing, letting his eyes linger too long, wondering what it would be like if only.

There were no if onlys in Koushi’s life.

Years by dawnstruck (fluff)

New Year's Eve. Koushi claps his hands and prays.

A Moment's Grace by shions_heart (smut)

After a botched mission, Daichi and Suga flee to a safe house. A black eye and bruised ribs do nothing to decrease Suga's libido, however.

The Difference Between Kisses by Navybluewings (fluff)

Sugawara isn't expecting much attention when being paired up with Daichi for the kissing booth. It's no secret that the captain is attractive inside and out, a feature that hasn't been lost on the female population or the third year setter. Still, Suga is in no rush to tell Daichi this, content with pining for his best friend in silence.

But the reveal of Suga's sexual orientation and Daichi's curiosity will change their relationship forever. And Sugawara isn't sure if that's a good thing or not.

Big Dai Energy by LessonsFromMoths (single parent au)

Two years ago, Daichi's world turned upside down when his sister and her husband died, orphaning their kids. Daichi made the decision to raise all 3, hoping to make his sister proud. When he decides to move across town to be closer to his friends, and a new person is thrust into their life: Sugawara Koushi, kindergarten teacher extraordinaire.

Chaos, love, and family ensues.

Sugar and Spice by RiChanasaurasRex (omegaverse au/smut)

After constantly seeing each other on campus but having no idea who the other is, Daichi and Suga are both dragged out by their friends to make them forget about each other. Of course, they end up at the same club and, of course, smut ensues.

i could show you incredible things (in the shower) by bishounen_curious (merman au/college au)

Being a siren at college is hard. But finding time to sing in the shower while also not accidentally putting your roommates under your thrall is even harder. Especially when one of your roommates is kinda cute.

bring it here, lover by melonstars (canon compliant)

"Y'know, my students think I have a wife."

Koushi doesn't keep it a secret that he's married. He just hasn't said who it is to his class of 8-year-olds.

I love you enough to give you my everything by Nishinoyass (fluff)

Sugawara is terrified of coming out and he's also in love with Daichi.

Make Out With Me? by GordandV (college au)

“Daichi, I know this is weird and I don’t know you, but my friends dragged me to this party and my ex just walked in so please make out with me,” begged Sugawara, Daichi immediately setting his drink down on the floor and cupping Sugawara’s face between his hands which were surprisingly cool before kissing him.

Captain of the Year by Uniblabblab (smut)

Daichi has won the Captain of the Year award, and the team decides that they will go out for BBQ. Suga can't wait to feel up his Captain till they get home, and for some reason he keeps reminding Daichi about a bunny that he needs to take care of when he gets home.

amor et anima by theroyalsavage (cupid and psyche au)

The god of passion falls in love with a mortal man. The rest, as they say, is history.

me, i fall in love with you every single day by earlgrey_milktea (fluff)

They wrestle a bit, Daichi dropping the ladle into the pot as Koushi clings to his middle, refusing to let go. Their laughter fills the kitchen as the curry pot bubbles merrily, and Koushi thinks---not for the first time and definitely not for the last time---that there is nowhere else he’d rather be.

the story of daichi and koushi, how they fall in love and never really stop.

Anywhere Else He'd Rather Be by hobbitfromtheshire (fluff)

Suga gets cold. Daichi helps him warm up.

As much as you want by twilightlynxx (fluff and smut)

In which Daichi had too much on his plate to worry about the stress of exams and Sugawara makes the perfect tutor.

“Suga you’re… kind of beautiful,” Daichi heard himself say the words, but he couldn’t remember saying them. His vision only seemed to consist of Sugawara.

Booty Call by stillnotovermylordsixth (canon compliant)

“You are not framing a teacher just to get in my pants,” Daichi warns.

“Aww!" Suga whines. "But why not? It’s so romantic!”

“Suga.”

Suga crosses his arms over his chest with a pout.

dogs are great by aalphard (fluff)

prompt fill for "i met you last night when you were drunkenly patting my dog in my backyard at 3 in the morning and when i asked you what the hell you were doing you slurred something about dogs being great and then you threw up on my feet and then fifteen minutes later you were passed out on my couch so that's why you're here right now also what the fuck is your name and why were you patting a dog in a stranger's backyard in the middle of the night" | or the one in which daichi finds a drunk guy in his yard after going for a walk with his dog and lets him crash in his couch for the night.

we live in the now by laurenshappenstobemyhusband (future fic)

"Daichi, quick, you have to come with me to the bar."

I'd go anywhere with you. "What is it, Suga?"

"Oikawa's going to be there with Iwaizumi, and we're going out to drinks with them. Also, we're dating."

The only thing Daichi could bring himself to say was, "Oh, alright."

A Simple Man by daphnethewriter (smut)

Daichi isn't hard to please, but that doesn't mean Suga won't put in the extra work to make sure his boyfriend gets exactly what he deserves.

A study in love by phroobin for Telenovela (fluff)

'Really, Suga and Daichi just make sense.' (A study of the relationship between Suga and Daichi)

Destined to Love by 1redblackflannel (omegaverse au/smut)

It was all because Daichi’s father and Satoshi, the head butler of the Sawamura family, had decided to interview applicants for a vacant butler position.

Daichi is the alpha-heir of the Sawamura family, a very rich and influential group who owned many multi-million dollar companies.

Suga is an omega who has applied to be a butler.

They meet again after many years and decide that maybe, they were destined to love each other.

you are not immune to the boy of your dreams by bokkun (canon compliant)

Before starting his day, Sugawara Koushi remembers five things:

1. Always eat breakfast 2. Always check your stuff before leaving the house 3. Say goodbye to the demon sleeping under your bed 4. Pet the stray cat (or cats) outside your home 5. Don’t fall in love with your cop of a best friend

It’s really simple. Just five things Koushi needs to remember.

Forgotten Papers by letsdoaskit (fluff and slight angst)

Daichi asks Suga to bring him some papers he forgot at home, but why can't Suga enter his classroom?

when the letter says a soldier's coming home by karasunonolibero (angst with a happy ending)

Koushi grabs his arm, hand shaking as he scrawls his address on the inside of Daichi’s wrist. “That’s my college address. Write to me there. And when you come back, I’ll be waiting for you, so find me. Please.”

The smile Daichi gives him is tinged with melancholy. “You shouldn’t wait for me, Koushi. With your looks, you’ll have boys falling at your feet. Take one of them.”

Koushi shakes his head. “Please.”

“Okay.” Daichi brushes a lock of hair from Koushi’s face, squeezes his hand, and then he’s gone.

or, the year is 1968 and all Koushi can do is wait for Daichi to come home.

Weather the Storm by HamletsProzac (smut)

“You could download Tinder.”

Literally nothing good ever comes from following that advice, but Daichi had gone and done it anyway.

Nothing good ever came of following Kuroo’s advice either, and he’d done that too. But really, considering the circumstances, what else was he supposed to do in the middle of a hurricane?

A Tinder hook up turns into kinky sex turns into two nerds pining: a saga.

Ice Bath by stumblinginthestars (fluff)

Coach Ukai decides to test out a new cool-down technique after summer practice one day. Daichi tries not to worry when Sugawara doesn't seem to be handling it as well as the others. He fails.

stupid about you; or, the misadventures of one sawamura daichi by asphodehls (fluff)

Daichi thinks early mornings are shit.

Then the most beautiful man in the world starts frequenting his usual coffee shop, and maybe the early mornings aren't so shit anymore.

If only he could work up the courage to talk to him.

What it says on the box - Daichi has one brain cell and it's entirely dedicated to falling in love with Suga.

Devil's Trap by farethy (talonyth) (smut)

There is a devil hidden in everyone, even in the most angelic being called Koushi Sugawara.

Punishment by carriecmoney (fluff)

Suga must've been a bad man in a past life; not only is he cursed to be a distance runner, but he also has a crush on a discus thrower. Aesthetically, of course. Track and field!AU.

I Could Have Danced All Night by Rinoa11 (12 dancing princesses au)

Daichi has returned from the military, an injured useless soldier with a sick mother. He is taken in to become a palace gardener under Keishin and is sucked into the mystery of the six beautiful princes of the castle who disappear each night and return with ruined dancing shoes. When times get desperate Daichi can no longer ignore the mystery of the six princes before him. Who are they? What is going on? And will he discover their secret or face the punishment of death?

sugar and salt by foreverwonder (detective au)

When a dead body was fished out from the waters of Tokyo Bay, Detective Sawamura Daichi and his partner were assigned to the case. What was first thought to be a straightforward homicide turned out to be the prelude to something more dangerous and Daichi vowed to get to the bottom of it.

He just never expected to fall for the victim’s lover.

The Beast Dancer by Rinoa11 (fantasy au)

The Legend tells of a great Beast bringing destruction to the town, sent down by the gods to punish them for their mortal folly. For ten days and nights the Beast wrought tremors and chaos on the earth, causing panic and terror to spread throughout the land. Until one day a brave hero sealed away the beast after a grand fight.

The Legends also say that the Beast Dancers who seal the Beast away are destined for paradise. Suga wondered about what paradise was like. The priests in the temple told him that he would live a life of bliss as thanks for helping to seal the Beast away. All Suga hoped for was that it would be filled with fields of flowers as far as the eye could see.

It is an honour to be chosen.

a little lost by lavendrsblue (fluff)

Daichi slaps a hand over his face, muffling a groan. Having a kissing dream about Suga while they’re literally sharing a bed—what could be worse, honestly.

The night before Nationals, they're supposed to get eight hours of sleep. Daichi gets considerably less.

not the same night out by suhoya (fluff)

In which Kuroo thinks it would be a good idea to invite his friend Sugawara to their weekly night club visit. Daichi gets easily distracted (forgets how to dance), thinks a lot (and imagines), drinks (doesn't know what), and meets love.

That’s all i can recommend you to read! there’s a lot of amazing daisuga fics i didnt mention here and i wanted to add more but there’s a limit so keep searching for more. Kudos to all writers out there!!! I’ll try my best to make more fic recs so we can appreciate more writers and their stories! Have a nice day! Don’t forget to compliment the author’s work(s)!!!

[cecilspeaks]

168 - Secret Blotter

Life is 10 per cent what happens to you And 90 per cent false memories of what you think happened to you. Welcome to Night Vale.

In an effort to bring more transparency to the Sheriff’s Secret Police, a chronicle of one night’s dispatches will be released to the public. This action comes at the behest of the City Council, who voted unanimously on a resolution to ban plastic bags.

Now, OK, while those two things may not seem related, Sheriff Sam misunderstood the vote as a rallying cry against tyrannical surveillance and a personal threat, involving being thrown to the pit of vipers behind the bowling alley. Sheriff Sam, who has a paralyzing fear of vipers, proposed a compromise in which Secret Police dispatches would be temporarily divulged, so the public can get a better idea of what agency does and how tax dollars are being spent. A plan which was readily accepted by the Council, though they continued to roll their eyes and gnash their teeth and chant softly: [creepy voice] “Viper pit! Viper pit! Blessed be the viper pit!” Which is just how they express a “yay” vote on procedural issues.

As a result, Night Vale has its first ever police blotter. Let’s dig in. 9 o’clock PM. Missing person reported inside the Ralphs. Night manager on duty says employee went to stock some cases of Lime-A-Ritas in the new walk-in beer cave and never came out. Reporting officer thoroughly checked beer cave and confirmed it was deserted. Three cases of the beverage were left haphazardly in the middle of the floor, and a loading dolly had tipped over onto its side. Manager states employee originally brought in four cases. Manager added one missing case of Lime-A-Ritas to the report. When asked if this kind of thing has happened before, manager changed subject and asked if officer would like to look at some of the children’s drawing contest submissions. Officer was amenable to this request.

9:16 PM. Noise complaint. Dog barking in an unknown language annoying residents. Dirty white fur, human face. Gone when officer arrived on scene.

9:25 PM. Two underage residents attempted to sneak into an R-rated movie by pretending to be one tall person in a trench coat. When confronted by officer, they turned into a swarm of flies and dispersed.

10:01 PM. Noise complaint. A sound resembling television static was being emitted from a shower drain out in the Hefty Sycamore trailer park. When recorded and played backwards, it turned out to be a broadcast from a 1952 episode of the game show “Beat the Clock”, where contestants competed to see how many pieces they could smash a clock into. A plumber was called.

10:15 PM. A resident of Desert Creek searched for “easy tortellini recipes”, but none of them were easy enough. It was so late already, and they needed to get to bed soon, but they were also very hungry and needed to eat dinner first. They wanted something quick, but they also wanted a real dinner, not a false dinner like… cereal? They became hyperaware that the more they deliberated on what to make, the longer it was all taking. And factoring in the decision-making time on top of the meal prep time was becoming additionally stressful in relation to the desire to get to bed soon.

11:30 PM. A Coyote Corner’s swimming pool filled with blood and began swirling furiously in a counter-clockwise direction. Home owner appeared distressed. Officer advised home owner to drain pool.

11:31 PM. Multiple residents awoke in a cold sweat from the same dream. It wasn’t necessarily a nightmare, but it was definitely not pleasant. The only thing they could recall afterwards was that it was showing, and that there was a tree with seven limbs.

12:00 AM. Witches.

2:00 AM. That time of night when everything starts getting hazy. Were you headed to a crime? Checking a surveillance station? Listening to a wiretap? Going home? Returning to headquarters? Signalling an invisible helicopter? Sometimes you lose track. An old local legend comes into your mind, and you try to recall the details. It’s been so long since you heard it. You watch the headlights bounce along the dirt road ahead, and your eyes begin to play tricks on you, sensing movement in the dark margins where the light doesn’t penetrate. You turn off the lights and slow the vehicle. They weren’t tricks after all. There is movement here, a dark writhing mass entering the roadway. You are forced to stop the car. Eyes flesh open in the dark. Many sets of eyes. This isn’t part of a half-remembered legend. This is something very, very real.

More of the blotter soon. But first, let’s have a look at traffic. You’re hunting in a pack near the Old Highway. The smell of blood is in the air. Headlights bounce over the rise and your stomachs rumble. The moon flees behind the clouds and you fan out, along both sides of the road, moving parallel to it like a lazy river. The car approaches and slows. It shuts off its headlights, as you knew it would. Some of you push ahead to the car, blocking its path. Others move to the rear and others remain at the sides boxing it in. You converge, surrounding it more tightly the door opens, then closes again, the fleshy creature inside cursing softly. You hear a crackle of radio static, but you know it is inconsequential to you. You consume the metal shell first. There are explosions of air and the hiss of leaking fluids. Then the glass, crunchy and cool in your collective gullet. And finally, the screaming delicacy in the center, the cloth-wrapped package of meat and bone. There are other things afterward, less enjoyable, but consumable nonetheless. Papers and electronics, and the pleather, and cold French fries in the back. Nothing must remain. By the time the moon emerges from the clouds, the old highway will be deserted once more. This has been traffic.

And now a word from our sponsors. Today’s show is brought to you by TickTock. The only app that tells you exactly how long you have left to live. The sleek countdown display synchs easily with all of your devices, so that you can check your mortality at a glance. The premium edition provides additional details, such as manner and location of death, and updates to the minute, as you make different choices throughout your day. You’ll find yourself asking questions like, why did returning a library book just subtract 4 years from my life? How did leaving late for work change my final outcome from drowning in gulch to birds of prey? Why does it say “tomorrow” all of a sudden? [panicking] It must be some kind of glitch, right? OK, OK, I’ve updated the app but it still hasn’t changed. It still says “tomorrow”. I just got checked out by a doctor and they said I’m in great shape, I’m staying home from work, I’m not answering the door, I’ve closed the blinds and I’m sitting on the couch, surrounded by pillows, not moving, not even blinking, I’ve done everything dammit, EVERYTHING!!! WHY DOES IT STILL SAY “TOMORROW”???!! Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. This has been a word from our sponsors.

Back to the Sheriff’s Secret Police blotter. 2:30 AM. Responded to an officer distress call on the Old Highway. No sign of officer or vehicle found. Must have been a false alarm.

3:15 AM. Nude man ranting in middle of old highway, carrying a case of alcoholic beverages. Identified as the night shift stocker at the Ralphs. Claims he entered the walk-in refrigerator at work, reached up to place the case of beverages on the shelf, and abruptly found himself in a network of ice caves. He eventually climbed up a snowy mountain where he met a robed figure he refers to as “The Oracle”. “The Oracle” foretold of a hungry darkness with a thousand eyes and urged that the portal must be cloooosed. The Ralphs employee also reported that “The Oracle” had slurred speech and seemed unsteady on its feet, and may have been inebriated. After this exchange, he then found himself standing in the Sand Wastes nude. He does not know where his clothes are. Officer escorted man back to the Ralphs to finish out his shift.

3:35 AM. Domestic disturbance. “He won’t stop practicing the flute!” a Cactus Bloom resident reported, indicating his dopplegänger who stood in the corner of the bedroom, staring unblinkingly at the wall and playing the same halting scale on a wooden flute. Officer advised resident to take a melatonin and try to get some sleep. “If he doesn’t stop, I can’t be held responsible!” the sleep-deprived resident threatened. “Sounds fair,” the officer agreed and left the premises.

4:00 AM. An alarm clock went off in Old Town. A woman attempted to get out of bed, but her cat walked sleepily onto her person and began purring, preventing her from rising. Her cat is elderly and the woman knows its number of purrs are finite and must be honored. Eventually, she put on coffee and took a shower. She used Herbal Solution shampoo for a lifelong dandruff condition, though she has not seen any improvement after years of using the products. She continues using it, because she likes the way it smells. It smells medicinal, like it’s helping, and it does tingle, like the label promises. The tingle means it’s working, the label says. So it must be working.

And now a break form the police blotter for some sports news. Night Vale High School – go Scorpions! – has added a concession stand to be used during sporting events. The parent-teacher association proudly unveiled the new stand at last week’s baseball game, dedicating the plywood structure to the memory of favorite AP auto shop teacher, Nick Teller. Teller reacted with confusion at this news, as he is still alive. “Oh, of co-, no, of course you are,” the PTA responded awkwardly, “but we just wanted to honor – your memory, as in what a great memory you have. You-you know how you’re really good at remembering stuff? We just wanted to, yeah uh, honor that,” the PTA went on, seemingly unable to stop explaining themselves, whilst standing in front of the dedication plaque, which featured several doves, a Celtic cross, and an image of clasped hands. Teller admitted he does have an excellent memory and is very honored. The following concessions are available at the Teller memorial stand: Special allowances, the granting of rights, the acceptance of certain things as truth, the yielding of certain other things as untruth. Also, RC Cola and popcorn.

Oh, which reminds me, we actually have another word from our sponsor, Royal Crown Cola. Invented by Ferdinand the 1st, king of Naples, who built a museum of mummies inside his palace to house the bodies of his slain enemies. “I am parched from building this museum of mummies,” he famously said, and the rest is history. RC Cola – the drink of ruthless monarchs.

In local news, I have the results of the Ralphs drawing contest. Local school children were encouraged to submit a drawing to the store this week, depicting their favorite Ralphs product. I’ll start with the runners up. The third place drawing comes to us from Ella Snider, a student from Night Vale Elementary, and it shows a large black scribbled mass with a lot of eyes on it, with the Ralphs building on fire in the background. Very creative, Ella!

The second place drawing comes from Jace McCoy, also from Night Vale Elementary, and this one also shows a black mass with many eyes and a big bright red splatter of blood across the page. Nice use of color, Jace!

And the grand price winner comes to us from Heather (Fathusam) [0:16:52] of Daggers Plunge Charter School. Her drawing features a beautiful black mass with lots of lovely eyes, and it’s holding a box of store brand frozen pizza rolls. Congratulations, Heather!

Back to the blotter. 4:01 AM. Distress call from the Ralphs. Upon arrival, officer was pulled into the manager’s office. The employee from the earlier incident was also present, huddled under a desk. Manager frantically indicated the surveillance window that looks out into the store, which he normally uses to spy on shoppers and report on what they are wearing for his Customer Fashion newsletter. Shelves of products were being knocked over and consumed by a vast dark nothingness. The back of the store then burst into flames. The manager implored the officer to quote, “Do something, please, or we’ll all be killed!” Officer used the intercom system to tell the nothingness to vacate the store immediately, and advised it of trespass and vandalism laws. The nothingness took the form of many dark shapes with many eyes. A tank of fresh seafood exploded and numerous shellfish were damaged. Officer advised the shapes that they were all under arrest. “Stop talking to it!” the manager cried and knocked the intercom mic out of the officer’s hand. Approximately 1000 eyes turned to look at the office window. Interesting. Well.

Let’s have a look at that weather.

[“Best Friends” by Curtains: https://curtains.bandcamp.com/]

4:35 AM. Situation escalated at the Ralphs. Officer, manager and employee embraced one another under the office desk amid the shattered glass of the surveillance window. The building trembled around them, products flew through the air, half the inventory was sucked into oblivion, and a great fire blazed, spreading to the bakery section. After doing an estimated 200,000 dollars worth of damage, the darkness and its many eyes entered the beer cave and did not come back out. Officer investigated the beer cave and found it to be empty. “You have to shut down the cave!” the Ralphs employee implored the manager. “That’s its doorway to our world!” The manager hedged and responded that a big heat wave was coming and if they hoped to recoup any of their losses, keeping the beer cave open was going to be instrumental to the store’s survival. “People will spend big on frosty cold beverages,” the manager responded. “Not to mention they’re gonna like standing around in there for a nice cool-down.” The employee wrapped his robe tightly around himself. Oh, the manager had lent him the robe, one of the many fashion items the manager kept in his collection, since the employee still didn’t know where his clothes had gone. “OK,” the employee said. He picked up a Lime-A-Rita and guzzled it down in one continuous gulp. Then he said, his voice already a little slurred: “I’ll have to try to shhhhtop it myself.” He ran into the beer cave and promptly vanished.

5:40 AM. Tree with seven limbs seen growing out of a hole in the vacant lot out back of the Ralphs. Snow observed on the branches, which melted off quickly as the sun rose.

5:45 AM. Real pretty sunrise.

Well, that concludes our Secret Police blotter. I dunno about the rest of you, but I personally feel a lot more safe and secure getting a closer look at what our Secret Police do. On behalf of Night Vale Community Radio, thank you for your service. I’m sure we will all rest a lot easier knowing that our fate is in your hands. Our sleeping bodies are under your watchful eye, and our every thought and action is being monitored for the greater good. As Secret Police mascot Barks Ennui always says: Stay tuned, stay, vigilant, report your neighbors. Woof. Woof.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Six out of seven dentists have no idea where that seventh one disappeared to. Honest, they all have rock solid alibis and that blood could have belonged to anyone.

[pandora15]

(Bedridden AU Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4 ; AO3 (full version))

By the time they returned to the Halls, Anakin’s stomach was a knot of nerves settled cold and deep within him.  He felt like he couldn’t breathe properly, like there was something lodged in his chest that stopped his lungs from expanding.

Bant was quiet as they walked towards Obi-Wan’s room, her features set in deep concentration.

Bant paused outside of Obi-Wan’s door, telling Anakin that she would stop by to speak to Obi-Wan in a few minutes.  With a nod and a deep breath, Anakin walked in alone, unsure of what to expect.

He was immediately greeted with the sight of Obi-Wan sitting upright on the bed, eyes closed.  As soon as Anakin stepped inside, Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open, revealing a focused intensity he hadn’t seen from him since...before all of this happened.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan rasped, and despite the lucidity and clarity in his eyes, there was exhaustion in the way he sat slumped against the headboard, in the dark smudges under his eyes.

Even now, there was a guardedness in Obi-Wan’s eyes, something different and unfamiliar.

Worry wormed its way up Anakin’s throat, cold and desperate.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin replied, and he moved closer, almost hesitating.

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at Anakin.  “Something isn’t right,” he murmured.  “Did you—what happened?”

Exhaling slowly, Anakin sat in the chair next to the bed.

“Bant told me the truth,” he said finally.  “About...the visions, and what happened when you were a child.”

When Obi-Wan didn’t immediately reply, Anakin’s stomach twisted even further, and he felt nausea curling in his chest.

Obi-Wan’s eyes closed again, but he gave no other indication that he heard Anakin speak at all.

“Please say something,” Anakin pleaded.  He wanted—needed—Obi-Wan to talk about it, to tell him the truth.  It was about time he heard the truth.

Obi-Wan sighed, opening his eyes to look directly at Anakin.

“I...can’t,” Obi-Wan replied, voice hollow.  “There isn’t much time.  I need to speak with Bant, now.”

Cold fury curled deep in Anakin’s gut, and it felt good and horrible all at once.  He gave into it easily, letting the fire ignite his veins in a way that burned painfully and wonderfully at the same time.

“You’ve lied to me, for all these years, and even now you refuse to say anything?” Anakin snapped, moving to lean directly over Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan met his gaze evenly.  

“Get Bant,” he rasped, but then his features crumpled.  The Force let out a cry of warning before Obi-Wan groaned sharply, leaning his head forwards to rest it on his kneecaps.

A series of harsh, uneven breaths echoed through the room, freezing the burning fury rushing through Anakin’s veins.

“Obi-Wan?” he asked, voice shaking.  He reached a hand towards his former Master’s shoulder as the door slid open behind him.

Anakin watched as Bant rushed over to the other side of the bed, placing both of her hands on Obi-Wan’s shoulders.  Anakin felt something in the Force shift as the tension left Obi-Wan’s body, though the ragged breaths continued to echo through the room, almost eerily.

“Obi-Wan?” Bant asked softly.  “Maybe you should lie down now.  I can give you a sleep suggest—”

“No.”  A harsh exhale, and Obi-Wan lifted his head, revealing a weariness Anakin had never seen from him before.  The sight of it sent ice into his veins.  “Bant, I must—I must speak to you.  Alone.”

Bant’s features twisted into confusion, and she looked over at Anakin apologetically.

“Whatever you can say to her, Obi-Wan, you can say to—”

“No.”  Obi-Wan’s voice was firm, unwavering.  “I’m sorry, Anakin.”

“You wish to keep more secrets from me, even now?” Anakin asked incredulously.  “Bant told me the truth, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan sighed, looking up at Anakin once again.  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice quiet.  He closed his eyes again, slumping back against the headboard with a sharp exhale.

“Fine,” Anakin gritted, and he turned around and left, conflicting emotions swirling deep in his gut.

As soon as the door slid shut behind him, Anakin leaned back against the wall next to the door, closing his eyes.

He couldn’t believe it.  Anakin understood Obi-Wan’s reservations about not telling him the truth earlier—there was no good way to explain all of this, and Anakin was sure it was something Obi-Wan wasn’t completely comfortable talking about.

But now, Anakin knew the truth.  Why would Obi-Wan still want to keep things from him, if he knew the truth?  It made no sense.

Anakin groaned, slamming the fist of his flesh hand onto the wall next to him.

“Master?”

Anakin jumped, eyes opening to the sight of his padawan standing directly in front of him, head tilted slightly.

“Ahsoka,” he replied, and his voice broke in his throat.  “What are you—what are you doing here?”

“I just finished class,” she said slowly, eyes narrowed in curiosity, “and I wanted to see how Master Obi-Wan was doing.”

He still hadn’t told Ahsoka what about what had happened yesterday—about the delusion, the hallucinations.  She had asked, multiple times, and Anakin had refused to answer.  He couldn’t bear speaking about it.

Anakin should have realized that Ahsoka would try to seek Obi-Wan out on her own.

With a quiet sigh, Anakin allowed his legs to fold underneath him, and he sat against the wall, Ahsoka sitting across from him.

“I—” he began, and his voice cracked horribly again.

Ahsoka’s features softened.

He opened his mouth to at least say something, but instead, a loud, hiccuping sob escaped him.

The next thing he knew, there were arms wrapping around his shoulders, a small hand rubbing his scalp as his head fell onto Ahsoka’s shoulder.

She held him as he shook with the force of his tears, whispering softly, her warm Force presence bringing stability to his horribly-shaken world.

“It’s alright,” she whispered softly.  “It’s all gonna be alright.”

And, for a moment, Anakin allowed himself to believe her.

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

As soon as Anakin stormed out of the room, Bant sighed, turning back towards Obi-Wan, who looked at her with bright, weary eyes.

Instinctively, she reached a hand to touch his forehead and immediately flinched at the intense heat emanating from him.

“You’re burning up,” she murmured.

“It doesn’t matter,” Obi-Wan responded, voice slurring slightly.  “There is something I need you to do, before it’s too late.”

“Obi-Wan, I—”

“No,” he said firmly, and he squeezed his eyes shut, teeth chattering as he shook violently.

Bant quickly sat herself next to him, ignoring the terrible feverish heat she could feel through his clothing.  She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, focusing on keeping her Force presence cool and calm.

“Listen to me,” Obi-Wan said after a few moments, eyes opening.

Bant nodded slowly, and Obi-Wan shifted, pulling himself away so he could look at her directly.

Despite the terrible pallor in his face, the sweat gathered on his forehead, the tremors wracking his frame, his eyes were steady and clear.

“Anakin is Vader.”

The certainty in Obi-Wan’s voice was the only thing that stopped her from gasping in shock.

“Or rather—he will be,” Obi-Wan continued, and he closed his eyes in terrible anguish.  His Force presence shuddered, and Bant’s heart wrenched at the feeling of it.

“Are you sure?” she whispered.

They had spoken about Vader a few times over the years.  At first, as Qui-Gon’s Padawan, Obi-Wan seemed to believe the figure to be merely a figment of his imagination stemming from the visions because the Sith had been gone for centuries.

But then the Sith returned.

After the Battle of Naboo, Obi-Wan was extremely shaken by the realization that there may have been an element of truth to the visions.  In the months that followed Qui-Gon’s death, Bant often found Obi-Wan pacing in front of one of the waterfalls in the Room of a Thousand Fountains in the middle of the night, muttering to himself.

On one of those nights, she confronted him about it, and in a halting voice, Obi-Wan had told her that if the Sith had truly returned, the Jedi would fall, betrayed by one of their own.  By Vader.

At the time, the idea seemed so impossible that Bant immediately reassured him that it wouldn’t happen, and Obi-Wan allowed himself to believe her.

But then the war started.

Even then, Bant couldn’t bring herself to believe that any of the Jedi would betray them the way Obi-Wan said Vader does.

It seemed too...terrible.

The possibility of the Jedi Order falling seemed so unlikely, even now.

“I am,” Obi-Wan replied, voice hoarse.  “Anakin is...he will turn to the Dark Side, and he will betray and destroy us.  All of us.”

If Bant wasn’t already sitting down, she would have fallen down by now, by the sheer amount of shock she felt.

“The visions were—are—a warning,” Obi-Wan said, and he trembled again, teeth chattering.  “There is only one way to stop this, and in order to get there, my mind must be clear.”

Bant frowned.  “What do you mean?”

“I can stop Anakin from falling,” Obi-Wan murmured, bowing his head.  “The Force sent me these visions as a warning, but they have become too much for my body to handle.  If we don’t do anything now...” His voice trailed off, and he looked directly at Bant.

“You’ll die,” she whispered, and tears slipped down her cheeks.  She wiped at them quickly.

“Anakin needs me,” Obi-Wan said firmly, and for a moment, he sounded almost like he usually did—calm and certain.  “Therefore, we need to stop the visions.”

“So you can survive,” Bant realized, frowning again.  “But how?  We weren’t able to do it before.  And these visions are a lot worse than they were before, Obi.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and swallowed, a terrible sadness emanating so suddenly from his Force presence that Bant found herself stunned by the despair that flooded the Force.

“Obi-Wan?” she asked softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He opened his eyes and looked directly at her, eyes clear.  

“There is only one way, Bant,” he said firmly.  “You must sever my connection to the Force.”

(Bedridden AU Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4 ; AO3 (full version))

[v-the-adventurer]

The Afternoon Nap - Prodigal Son

Just a little fluffy Prodigal Son piece I whipped up this morning. First time writing for this fandom and I’m so excited to share it! Fic below the cut.

~~~

Gil Arroyo stretches his arms above his head as he watches the clock on his desktop computer turn from 2:34PM to 2:35. He’s been holed up in his office since ten, when they made the final arrests for the precinct’s latest murder case. They’ve all been pulling late nights for this one, and it feels good that it’s finally over.

However, the downside to finishing any case is the mountain of paperwork that follows. Gil and his team are absolutely swimming in forms, each required to write up an individual statement about the arrest’s proceedings. The work is mind numbing, but Gil’s determined to get everything done by five, so he takes a deep breath and gets back to work.

He’s two sentences into his statement when his office door flies open and then immediately closes as the one, the only (thank god), Malcolm Bright flops down on his couch.

Losing all of his hard earned focus, Gil sits back in his desk chair and surveys the profiler. “By all means, Bright, come in,” he mumbles dryly as he watches Malcolm struggle to take off his suit jacket.

“Sorry,” the kid pants, “I just needed…” Malcolm trails off with a vague gesture. Before Gil can ask any further questions, Bright has stretched out across the length of his office sofa and closed his eyes, pulling his suit jacket over the top half of his body as if it’s a blanket. The kid looks kind of wrecked now that he’s stopped moving long enough for the lieutenant to get a good look at him, and the fact that his team’s resident insomniac suddenly needs a midday nap is more than a little concerning.

“You okay, kid?” Gil asks quietly, standing from his desk and moving over to sit in the chair on the opposite side of his office.

Malcolm doesn’t even open his eyes as he responds with an unconvincing “I’m fine.”

“Of course you’re fine,” he mutters, half to himself, before turning back to the profiler. “You know, Bright, some people might say that stumbling into your boss’s office and falling asleep on his couch in the middle of the afternoon is the opposite of fine.”

“Not sleeping,” Malcolm corrects, “just need to close my eyes for a little while. Half an hour, tops.” Malcolm’s speech is slurred; despite what the kid says, Gil knows he’s well on his way to sleep.

“Kid, if you’re sick you should just go home,” The lieutenant says as he reaches a gentle hand out to rest on the profiler’s forehead. He’s surprised to find it cool rather than fever-warm. At the contact, Malcolm opens his eyes and squints up to meet Gil’s eyes.

“I’m not sick, Gil. I’ve just got a headache and need to rest my eyes a bit so I can finish my incident report.” With that, Malcolm closes his eyes and pulls the jacket tighter around his slender frame, huddling deeper into the couch.

Gil sighs; if the headache is bad enough for Malcolm to be hiding out in his office, the profiler should definitely go home for the day. But the lieutenant closes the blinds on his office windows anyways, blocking out any residual light and prying eyes.

“Thanks for letting me stay, Gil,” Malcolm mumbles sleepily, sighing contentedly as his three thousand dollar suit jacket is replaced with the blanket Gil keeps in his desk for situations such as these.

“Take all the time you need, kid.”

[chekovs-fuckup]

100 Homestuck Headcanons Of Mine

Both Meulin and Nepeta say “hewwo” unironically. They can also replicate the OwO and UwU faces near perfectly.

Roxy loves Five Nights At Freddie’s, Undertale, and Minecraft.

The Striders and Lalondes have a group Minecraft server.

One time Roxy convinced Rose to play Halo with her, Dirk, and Dave. That was when they found out Rose was surprisingly good at it, and Fortnite.

The trolls all love Animal Crossing

Actually, everyone loves Animal Crossing.

The Mayor is the only one who had Raymond. That is because Dave gave him Raymond.

Everyone else wants Raymond.

Vriska stabbed someone for Raymond. She didn’t get Raymond.

The Harley-English-Egbert-Crocker family have a group Minecraft server, and that’s it.

They tend to spend their free time seeing what whacky things they can alchemize.

At one point they managed to alchemize Captain America’s shield. No one is sure how, but it works.

Roxy and Dirk can both eat whole ghost peppers. Rose and Dave both hate spicy food.

Jane doesn’t mind spicy things but prefers sweet stuff instead. John and Jake are fine with a little spice but not as much as Roxy and Dirk. Jade can’t have anything spicy or she will get extremely sick.

Spicy peppers, and peppers in general, are lethal to trolls, due to the capsicum in them. The first time Karkat and Kanaya saw Dirk and Roxy eating peppers they freaked out.

Dirk and Roxy have occasional competitions to see who can eat the most peppers in a minute. It’s hilarious.

Karkat learned the Alternia equivalent of an Earth ukulele before the game. He remembers one song from it and occasionally borrows Jake’s ukulele to play it when he’s sad.

Jake, Jade, Jane, and John have every musical instrument you could name, and some you couldn’t.

Jake can play the ukulele and bagpipes. Jane can play piano and keytar. Alongside bass, Jade can play the trumpet and otamatone. John can play guitar and saxophone.

Dirk can play the otamatone. That’s it.

Roxy keeps requesting that Jade alchemize cats. She has about 30 by now.

Roxy gave Dave a cat. He named him Skittles, and claims it’s completely ironic.

Dirk also has a cat, named Twilight Sparkle

Rose has a cat named Cthulhu.

Jake has a parrot named Indiana Jones

Jade now has a corgi named Thor.

John managed to get Jade to help him alchemize a dragon. It’s name is Fluffernutter.

Jane is a master at anything kitchen-y. Jake and John both burn water. Jade can cook stuff but prefers take out.

Roxy knows how to make grilled cheese and soup really well, and Dirk is good with a grill but that’s it.

Rose makes the best hot chocolate, tea, and coffee. Any drink you want, she can make. She can’t cook anything though.

Alternatively, Kanaya is an excellent cook but thinks that mixing Dr. Pepper, Sprite, and Faygo together is good.

Kanaya has mixed every soda the kids could find together before. Dirk paid John $30 to drink it. John did.

“If you open a banana from the bottom you are a disgrace to the world and we all know you’re a top who can’t find a bottom.”- Rose, Kanaya, Jade, Vriska

“Opening a banana from the bottom lets you have the most banana without eating the weird thing at the end of it”- Dirk, John, Jane, Karkat

“Why bother peeling bananas when you can just eat them whole?”- Jake, Dave, Terezi

One time John used the Mayor’s cuteness to get Jane to bake him a cake. Dave found out and was pissed.

Dave convinced Rose to knit the mayor a sweater.

The mayor loves Doritos. He always gets the last one in the bag.

Kanaya loves mixing different types of one kind of food or drink. She has mixed all the candy in the house, much to the delight of most everyone, has mixed all the soda (it now lives in the back of the fridge for when they play truth or dare) and has mixed all the cereal in the house, much to the irritation of Roxy and Rose.

Dave ate a handful of Kanaya’s cereal mix because Dirk said he wouldn’t.

Has read Twilight: Rose, Roxy

Hasn’t read Twilight: Jade, Jane, John

Doesn’t know what Twilight is: Mayor, Calliope, Karkat, Jake

Hates Twilight: Dave

Vocally anti-twilight but secretly wrote and published a 100k fanfic: Dirk

Can swim: Rose, Roxy, Dirk, Jake, Jade

Can’t swim: John, Calliope, Jane

Hates bodies of water: Dave

Trolls don’t have grey skin, they have grey fur.

Said fur poofs up when the trolls are scared as a defense mechanism, like a cat. But instead of being fluffy, it’s spiky and sharp. Trying to punch a fluffed up troll ends badly.

If you mix Faygo and sopor slime you get the troll equivalent of weed.

Calliope found archery and axe-throwing, and is wonderful at both.

Dave convinced Rose to knit a sweater for the Mayor.

Cereal before milk: Rose, Roxy, Jane

Milk before cereal: Jake, John, Jade

“Just eat the cereal dry, cowards”: Dave, Dirk

Dave had a popular Vine account

Karkat does not understand the term Yeet.

Instead of saying “Yeet” Rose says “defenestrate”

Roxy has a Tumblr account filled with things their group has said.

Kanaya has designed outfits based around pride flags for everyone.

Dave likes Mindless Self Indulgence and My Chemical Romance

Calliope likes Fall Out Boy

John listens to twenty one pilots a lot

Dave also likes cavetown

Kanaya loves girl in red

The beta trolls ancestors can change their size.

The Grand Highblood and the Condesce shifted to a larger size permanently to intimidate other trolls.

Some don’t use it as much, or at all, like the Dolorosa, the Signless, or Neophyte Redglare.

Dualscar uses it to ease travel or to win fights, and will grow to extreme sizes so he can get through the water faster. It’s also ten times easier to sink ships.

The Psiionic couldn’t use the power once he became the Helmsman.

Darkleer uses it to grow smaller, so he can work on the small, delicate parts of his inventions.

Carapacians grow weed as a crop. For them, it’s their main source of food. For humans, it’s weed. It’s poisonous to trolls.

Sea dwellers’ lusii die more frequently (possibly due to the eldritch being at the bottom of the ocean), so they started letting older sea dwellers adopt sea dwellers that aren’t really old enough to survive without a lusus.

How many sweeps a troll is can be equated to human years, but when compared to other blood castes it becomes very skewed. A sweep equals roughly two human years, but different blood castes view this differently. Rust bloods, bronze bloods, and gold bloods all live fairly short lives, so 7 sweeps is roughly half their life span. Lime bloods and jade bloods all view 7 sweeps as being a bit like their early twenties. Teal and cerulean bloods would consider 7 sweeps to be roughly 13 or 14. Cobalt and purple bloods would see 7 sweeps as maybe being 6 or 7. Violet and fuschia bloods live for thousands of years, so legally and when comparing life experience to other fuschia/violet bloods, 7 sweeps is basically a very young toddler. This is just how each caste views age internally, given that they have different lifespans. 7 sweeps is roughly 13 or 14 in human years. This is explained badly but it’s also an alien concept put into English.

Teal and cerulean bloods have the closest lifespan to humans.

Dealing with eldritch beings shortens your lifespan because of the toll it takes on your body. This means that if Rose never reached godtier she would have died earlier than she was supposed to. This also means that if Eridan wasn’t chainsawed in half he probably would have had the lifespan of a purple blood or blueblood.

An ahab crosshairs or whatever can be really deadly in certain situations, but outside of that it’s basically useless.

The one time Dave met Kankri, he decided to put all of Mindless Self Indulgence’s songs on shuffle and play whatever came on first to Kankri. It was ‘Stupid MF’. Kankri flipped his shit and Dave is no longer allowed near him.

Meenah turned it into a game to see who could get the loudest reaction from Kankri by playing an MSI song. So far the winners have been 1. Vriska with ‘Faggot’, 2. Cronus with ‘Bitches’, and 3. Meenah with “Fuck Machine’. Honorable mentions include ‘Get It Up’, ‘Big Poppa’, and ‘Dickface’.

The honorable mentions change constantly

The game is ridiculously easy to win, given that most MSI songs are A) about sex, B) have slurs in them, C) are just really offensive in general, or D) all of the above.

To win the game you record Kankri’s reaction to the song and upload it to a forum on pesterchum.

Kankri is unaware there is a game.

Cronus repeatedly hits on everyone he meets. There are two people who he’s stopped flirting with, though.

The first one is Vriska. The first time he flirted with her she kicked him in the balls. The next time she stabbed him. He stopped trying after that.

The other one is John. He kept comparing Cronus to people from late 20th century movies with greasers in them.

Roxy loves riot grrrl bands.

Roxy, Sollux, John, and Karkat started a coding club. Roxy and Sollux help Karkat and John get better at coding, and also challenge each other to break into more and more ridiculous places.

At one point, using the codes that let Roxy and Dirk talk to Jake and Jane, Roxy and Sollux were able to hack into different government websites in different universes.

This includes the Pentagon, the FBI, and the CIA. They figured out how to get news live from the other universes, so occasionally they invite their friends over and watch a different world panic.

They end up doing internet troll stuff once in the websites. They’ll leave things equating to “aliens from another universe were here” and shit. They’ll make it so every time the website is open the screen turns pink or red and blue.

One time they left a picture of a message in Alternian. When the feds decoded the message, it just said “2ollux and Roxy were here. 2ucker2.”

One time they replaced all the photos of people with badly photoshopped versions of the photos where all the faces had been replaced by either Nic Cage’s face or Danny Devito’s face.

When they aren’t breaking into government websites, Roxy and Sollux will set up firewalls for the other to try and get past.

Aradia and Federico bleached Eridan’s hair while he slept, and cut it short. They also put pink bows on his horns. Just because.

Because Sollux can hear voices of the imminently deceased/is basically half dead, and Aradia has a strong connection to death, they were able to manipulate this so they could communicate telepathically. It takes focus, but they can do it.

Dirk knows Japanese, and can understand Damara. He is the only one who can.

They have inside jokes about everyone they know

Vriska found 5 or 6 doomed versions of herself and brought them back to life. They live in a shared hive and use the fact that they are all various Vriskas to prank people to an extreme. The only one who know whats happening outside of them is Terezi, because A) seer, and B) the one who gave John the list of things to do was brought back as well and told her.

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

I know this isn’t an ask prompt but I would love to know if you had any ideas for a Kazumaji proposal?

Awww, you’re so sweet anon, thank you! Hmmmm, let me think. The problem with them is where to pick it up in continuity? End of 5? After 3? Even before 1? 

I’m quite partial to after 5 myself just because Kiryu’s this old gay man by then who seems to realize that he’s wasted a lot of time not doing the things that made him happy for the greater good and, in doing that, may have sacrificed the thing most important to him. It just feels like a good place for these middle-aged men who have known each other too intimately and too well to finally, y’know, be happy. Let themselves be happy. 

Majima, meanwhile, has been ready to marry and settle down practically since he met Kiryu. If you’ve seen 2, then you see how painstakingly Majima constructs (pun intended) a safe, stable environment apart from the Tojo Clan while not wholly divorcing from it. He’s still accessible when he needs to be, but he has total security living on top of the Florist so he has early warning for any and all threats and has amassed a reputable business with a lot of strong and loyal types that would deter petty disputes. I don’t know about you, but sounds like a pretty reasonable place to raise children if you were also someone who needed to do yakuza business and keep your flock of children safe. I’m Just Saying. And Majima... just waits. Just sits there and waits, ever ready for Kiryu to come to him, for whatever he needs, providing though he hasn’t been asked. I- ugggghhhhhh. Fuck. 

And after 3 seems like such a reasonable time for Kiryu to come back to the fold. I think it’s fair that Kiryu tries to find himself, that he isn’t sure being yakuza is really want he wants to do after all and he goes off to raise some kids because he thinks that’s what he wants. And let’s be real, Kiryu needs a family, he loves his kids, he loves having people to take care of and having people around who love and support him. It does him good. But there’s a reality check there. It’s cool that you want a family and all and you were left devastated by the yakuza life and all your family, all your identity markers were stripped from you because they’re all dead so you’re scrambling to make a new identity with new people filling in those gaps, that’s cool and all, but it’s too fucking late. You’re Kiryu fucking Kazuma, you’re the Dragon of fucking Dojima and you will never not be that. Whatever else you are, whoever else you become, you are always going to be that too. 

And this is what Kazama was trying to warn you and Nishiki about when he said don’t join. If you join, there’s no leaving, there’s no going back, the ink on your back will not fade. You are and always will be the third chairman of the Tojo Clan and because of that, people are always gonna come for you. You’re always going to be a target, and it’s fine, you can take it, but maybe your kids can’t. And in 3 that problem was Loud And Clear. No one would have given a fuck about that orphanage except you were running it. Those kids never would have been in danger except they were a way to get to you. And I'm not trying to make Kiryu feel shitty about his life decisions, again, totally good and reasonable to want a family, but you gotta understand your own damn position. There’s wanting what you want and then there’s ignoring the risks and consequences.

So, y’know, all the more reason to MAYBE find a safe place to have your fucking kids. Just... just saying. MAYBE you COULD have your cake and eat it too if you weren’t such a stubborn idiotic askdfjkjasdhfkjsdh. I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s not him, it’s the writing, it’s not him... it’s fine. 

Anyway. But you asked me for a proposal, I’m getting off track. I think there’s a strong and dangerous argument to be made pre-one. Hell I nearly backed that in Snowed Inn, so, I feel y’all. I feel it. It’s intoxicating, the idea that these bastards couldn’t help themselves, dared hell and high water, and just fucking did it at the worst time possible, when there was everything to lose, because they were just so fucking into each other. Like... fuck, and they would too. Because, in their hearts, it’s always been true. They’ve always been married, there’s never been anyone else. Or, not since they met. Why not get it in writing? Why not just own it? We’re this fucked up about each other, we’re this vulnerable and it’s just... true.

And I’ve also got a real soft spot for old, tired men who have sacrificed a lot for stability over happiness and that has come to such heartbreak that finally... it’s time. 

But I think what I’ll do this time is fix canon and give us the post-3 marriage that we all fucking deserved. It’s not the only thing canon fucked (and Oh Boy we don’t have time for my list on THAT. Send another ask anon ;) ) but it is a glaring one. Enjoy:

After Kiryu got down from Millennium Tower, shaken, bloody, but whole, the first place he went was Majima Construction. 

“Kiryu-san!” Nishida ran over to him when Kiryu came striding through the gates, shirtless and determined, “What bring you-?”

“Where’s Majima?” he huffed, not even stopping for the answer, scanning the layout of the site hoping to spot him. 

Nishida trotted to keep up. “We- we weren’t expecting you! The boss returned not long ago, he’s in his quarters-”

“Where?” Kiryu snapped, eyes on Nishida now. 

Nishida gulped and pointed to a trailer above the work site. “But Kiryu-san, he said no visitors,” Nishida tried to uphold his boss’ wishes. 

“He’ll see me,” Kiryu insisted, starting off in that direction. 

“But he really wasn’t looking like he wanted visitors!” Nishida supplied.

Kiryu stopped and turned to Nishida, forcing himself to relax for a second. “Thank you, Nishida-san,” he nodded gratefully, “I’m not here to fight him, I just want to talk.” 

Nishida’s worried frown loosened a little. “He had a bottle with him,” he muttered, “I think... talking to him might help.” 

Kiryu smiled for half a second. “I hope so.” With that, he nearly sprinted to the stairs like he was making up for lost time. There was no real need to rush, he knew where Majima was and he was unlikely to do anything drastic right now. There was just this tight pressure in his skull that demanded he get to Majima before he lost whatever it was he needed to say. 

He rapped on the trailer door. 

“Go’way,” Majima whined, slurring a little, “We’re closed.” 

“I’m not a customer,” Kiryu explained. 

There was silence, then a rustle, a small sound as Majima tripped on something, then the door swinging open. “Kiryu-chan?” Majima blinked at him, hair askew, leather pants wrinkled and hung unevenly on his hips, “Whatcha doin here?” 

Kiryu blew a breath through his nose. “I came to see you.” 

Majima’s eye widened and, for the first time ever, Kiryu saw a bit of blush rise in his cheeks. Did alcohol have that effect on him? Kiryu saw him try to school his reaction, folding his arms and leaning ineffectually against the doorframe. “Thought ya didn’t want anythin’ t’do with me,” he huffed.

“That’s not-” Kiryu bit his tongue. “Won’t you at least invite me in?”

Majima raised an eyebrow and then leaned back, letting Kiryu just enough room to squeeze inside, so long as he bodily brushed against Majima to do it. Kiryu did catch the sigh escaping from Majima as just for a second their body heat mingled and it became hard to tell where one of them ended and the other began. Kiryu pushed pass and tried not to get distracted. 

Majima’s snakeskin jacket lay disregarded on the floor, the camp bed under the windows looked rumpled, clearly recently vacated. Kiryu swallowed and looked for somewhere to sit. 

“The bed’s free,” Majima murmured behind him, not quite salacious, but not quite not. 

Kiryu glanced at him over his shoulder before taking the offer and sitting on the edge of the bed. Majima’s mouth twitched, but didn’t quite smile as he plopped down too, stretching out behind Kiryu. 

“So, ya came t’see me?” Majima rejoined, not drunk enough to forget the conversational thread. 

Kiryu breathed deep and focused on a patch of carpet in front of him. “Yeah... yeah I did.” He swallowed. 

The silence held for a moment, then Majima squirmed, sitting up a little more alertly. “Kiryu-chan?” 

“I think I’ve made a mistake,” Kiryu finally said, licking his lips and glancing over at Majima.

He frowned. “Bout what?”

“About... everything,” Kiryu sighed, “I um...” His eyes drifted outside, unable to hold on to anything. “I, no, I’m doing this wrong.” He shifted back to the floor. 

Majima sat up properly now, swinging his feet in front of him so he could sit next to Kiryu. “What is it, Kiryu-chan?” he murmured, “You can tell me, I won’t tell a soul.” He grinned a little. “I’m good at that.” 

Kiryu smiled a little. “Yeah, I know. I know. I should have listened to you sooner.” 

Majima nudged his shoulder. “Ya scaring me now, Kiryu-chan, c’mon, just say it.”

“P-People are crazy in love, aren’t they?” Kiryu turned to Majima helplessly. 

Majima’s eye drew saucer-wide. A stuck noise came from the back of his throat. 

Kiryu licked his lips and tried to keep going. “It’s just... what I just saw... I just had a fight with Mine. Daigo’s alive, by the way, he’s fine.” Majima nodded vacantly. “And that fight, it got me thinking. I can’t keep running that orphanage.” He looked away. 

Majima’s sound finally restarted. “Don’t say that Kiryu-chan! Ya love that place!” 

“But I can’t, can I? I’m a danger to those kids,” Kiryu frowned, “You were right, you were just right when you offered me your protection.” He looked back at Majima. “And I’m grateful, I truly am. But I can’t accept.” 

Majima’s face didn’t just fall, it shattered into a thousand pieces on the ground. He dropped his head. “If that’s all you came to tell me, you needn’t have bothered,” he hissed. 

“I didn’t-! Move in with me!” Kiryu gasped.

Majima stared up at him quizzically. 

“I mean- me move in with, I...” Kiryu dropped his head to his hands. “I want to move here, Majima. I should never have left, I’m needed in Kamurocho and I’m needed by those kids and the obvious answer is just... to move here. Live with you. If you’ll have me.” 

Kiryu could hear Majima swallow. “Ah- O-Of course, we’d be-”

Kiryu looked up at him and cringed. “No, see, I’m still not saying it right. I don’t want,” he slid a hand over Majima’s, “your family. I want you.” His fingers wrapped around Majima’s, squeezing tight. “I’ve..." He swallowed hard, looking at Majima’s shoulder and not his face. “I want...” He bit his lip. 

“Kiryu-chan...” Majima whispered, bringing his free hand to Kiryu’s face, stroking the curve of his cheek just once, “will you marry me?”

Kiryu groaned something like a sob and crushed Majima to his chest. He buried his face in Majima’s shoulder so hard he didn’t feel Majima shaking for minutes as they both cried. 

“Yes,” Kiryu swallowed, nodding fervently as he realized he hadn’t actually responded, “Yes, yes, I... yes.” He panted, leaning back to look at Majima. 

Majima’s smile wobbled, his tears still running over, but the smile was there. “Oh, Kiryu-chan.”

Kiryu pulled him close again and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been real stupid, I’m so sorry.”

“Shut up,” Majima muttered, “Don’t ruin the moment. You’ve just... done more than I could ever ask for, Kiryu-chan.” 

Kiryu just held him close. Majima’s heart beat close to his and it was nice to know it would never beat from afar again.