#why must we sing these same damn songs every few years

[bumblerhizal]

forced to witness a//ce di//scou//rse on tiktok today, worst app 0/5 stars

[jameui]

SPECIAL PRESENT 1

Requested

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Jung Yunoh x College Student!M!Reader (featuring: Bestfriend!Lee Jeno)

GENRE: Fluff, Smut

WARNINGS: Unprotected intercourse, huge age gap, a lot of IMPORTANT flashbacks (i think), daddy kink, sex toys, overstimulation

SUMMARY: You were a striving student in Resonance High and had perfect records. Besides your devotion to your education, you were also gifted with a talent. All these stuffs making your sugar daddy, Jaehyun, proud of you, so he decided to give you a night you won't forget.

(P.S. so i was fucking dumb to actually think that when you said performance, you meant by performing on a stage, when you actually meant, how male reader actually did good in school. I was too late to notice. sorry. if this didn't reach your expectations.

The school's foundation day is fast approaching and each student at Resonance High are all excited preparing for that certain day. During the school's foundation day, events such as competition in sports and performances like singing and dancing or spoken poetry. All sorts of event takes place in that particular, not only a day, but a week, that every students can take part in.

The school's foundation day does not only happen after a day. It's a week of celebration for the foundation and, of course, free from homeworks and projects that students have to worry about. All their focus must be on having fun on those days and be active in participation. Some students never liked the thought about celebrating a foundation day, but you on the other hand, thought otherwise as it's your first time celebrating it with a friend, since you never really get to do it with any due to you practically being locked up in your house for almost all years of your life.

Now, you were away from your family and you got to finally do anything you wanted. For example, having a sugar daddy who gave you all the help you needed. Sure, at first, you were just doing it out of mere fun, but you never quite expected to actually grow feelings for the older male. You didn't know when it started, but the first time you ever felt the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach was when he became worried and concerned when you got sick after a very excessive practice, the day prior. You wanted to tell him so, so bad, but you didn't know how to.

You were scared that maybe you were crossing the line or coming off too strong or maybe he'd walk away if you broke the agreement. It first started with just you only being up for it because of the agreement. Though, you never really went as far as you giving him a good blow or having a steamy bath with him. Either way, he was still someone you could trust and the only person you could rant about all your problems. The thought of losing all these scared you the most.

Unlike some other people, Jaehyun was smart and was a successful businessman, owning one of the richest companies in the industry. Jaehyun, when he's not busy, he'd help you out with your math homeworks or would just do it for you, since he found it fun and easy. Sometimes, you think he's Einstein, reincarnated.

Jaehyun, besides his brains, is also fun to be with. He knows about your passion and talent for singing and dancing and your once dream to be an artist, so he would sometimes play loud music in the living room through the speakers and you two would be singing along, him making up lyrics when he have no idea what the song artist's saying in their song. He'd sometimes call them drunk, because they sounded like they were slurring their words, which you would always laugh to. Also, he'd let you teach him a few dance steps you saw on tiktok and you'd record it together, only for the fun of both of you.

You were seated by your section's booth and couldn't help, but crack a smile from the thought. That was until one of your classmates decided to cut the moment. "What's with the smile?" Jeno, one of your friends, questioned with a smirk whilst carrying a case of bottled apple juice, placing it beside the stand of the booth.

"Here to tease me, again?" You scoffed at him, as he shrugged his shoulders. You rolled your eyes at him and stood up from your seat before heading to the school's gate where the rest of the important necessitated items are waiting. You skipped along the way and stopped by the pick up truck that was parked at the parking lot. "Anything I can help with?" You asked with a smile.

"Here's the last of 'em." He gave you two cases of the bottled drinks, one stacked above the other making you grunt.

"This is heavy." You muttered under your breathe, your thin hands barely holding onto the handles. "Th-thanks." You told them your feet wobbling from the heavy weight of the trays.

Jeno who came walking back outside saw you struggling, making him chuckle deciding to help you. "Need help with that?"

"Yes, please." You said before passing the trays to Jeno carefully, so it doesn't topple over. "Thanks." You smiled at him, cracking your knuckles and shaking it to reduce the pain you felt on your hands.

"Welcome." He said, then walking back to the booth, with you beside him. "Ah, M/n. By the way, are you attending the practice this afternoon?"

"Yeah. Of course. Why do you ask?" You chuckled, kicking on a pebble that came your way.

"Oh, I just thought you'd be busy sucking your daddy's—"

"JENO!" You yelled at him with an evident blush on your face cutting him off to avoid anyone hearing what Jeno had to say. It's always been like this. Since the day you told him about having a sugar daddy, he'd always tease you no matter where you are or what you're doing. He'd always use your excuses against you and now, you're regretting ever telling him.

"Okay, okay. Damn." He laughed at your reaction, you staring daggers at him.

Just as you were about to spat back at him, you heard a group of girls' voices calling out to you. "M/n! M/n! M/n!" They were successful in gaining your attention, while they smiled running up towards you. "M/n! You didn't tell us you have a handsome brother..." One of them said, while batting their lashes.

You knitted your brows in confusion. "I have?" You asked the girls, who looked like they knew better and nodded their heads. First of all, you don't have a brother, but you have three sister, two are older and one is younger. Second, you don't even know who these girls were and yet, they mysteriously knew your name and who you were. "Wait, who are you talking—"

"M/n-ah." You heard that sweet raspy voice of the man you loved, your head snapping towards him who stood by the side of your booth. You guessed he was on his break, since he was still in his suit and it was already past twelve in the afternoon.

"Jaehyun!" You giggled as you ran to him, all the while opening his arms for you to throw yourself in. You gladly complied and wrapped your arms around him, the lot older male doing the same as he hung his long arms on your waist. You snuggled into his chest before you looked up at him to see him already looking down at you with a smile that displayed his deeply carved dimples. "What are you doing here? Aren't you busy?" He made you giggle when he patted your head and planted a kiss on your forehead.

"I wanted to see my baby." Jaehyun replied, then pouting. "I've been so tired lately."

You furrowed your brows in concern and hugged him tighter. "Can't you take a three days off?"

"I want to, but I got to keep the company running if I don't want it to fail." He answered you, making you nod your head.

Once the girls saw these, they quickly felt embarrassed and walked off without making a sound, Jeno laughing at them.

"Then, why don't I treat you to something sweet? How's that?" You wanted to do something for the older and this was the only thing you could ever think of.

The pout was still glued to his face when he looked back down at you. "Angel, we agreed that I would do the treating."

"Well, you're the one who needs my help, right now, so I want to do something for you, other than..." You cleared your throat and mumbled, "...the other things I do for you."

Jaehyun chuckled, as he finally gave in to your offer while he ruffled your hair. "Alright."

You pulled away from him once he had loosened his grip from around your waist. You took him by the wrist and told Jeno that you'd be somewhere else, leaving Jeno with the rest of the responsibilities, promising him to make up to it.

You were leading Jaehyun to the canteen, before he gently pulled on your hand. You turned your head towards him, your eyes moving down to where he held you. You chuckled and smiled. "What's wrong?"

"Can... I hold your hand, M/n?" The question took you aback, only since he never really asks those type of questions. Ones he only asks are some that goes by the line 'can you suck my dick?' or of some sort.

"Sure." You managed to smile from the obvious shock that got Jaehyun a little red. "You didn't even have to ask." You added to which he nodded to shyly. It would be times like this when you would forget that he is a good thirty years old because of his cute personality.

You two finally made it to the canteen, the taller male receiving a lot of stares from all those present inside. Jaehyun was yet to spot the attention he was gaining, but you were already feeling iffy even though you knew that those heart eyes were for Jaehyun. But, you couldn't help the feeling that those eyes didn't like you being around Jaehyun. "J-Jaehyun..." You squeaked out silently, tugging on the sleeve of his suit, taking his attention whilst smiling down at you. His smile faltered upon noticing how you looked subtly shaken and cowered in fear. "I.. I think we should leave."

"Baby, what's wrong? You look so tense." Jaehyun asked you out of pure concern, cupping your cheeks as he gently tilted your head upwards, so you could face him, but you removed his hands from your cheeks that got him almost shocked since you'd never really let yourself move away from his grasp, instead you would usually just lean into his touch and let yourself succumb to the warmth he was radiating, but this. This was different and he knew exactly that something was bothering you.

"Can we go, please?" You sounded like you were begging for you two to quickly move outside, leaving Jaehyun with no choice, but to nod his head and let you drag him out of the place. Alas, you were outside, but he never received even a word from you nor a hum, a sigh, nothing. Just complete silence.

He grew more worried thinking that he might have done something that he shouldn't have or said something that made you feel so uncomfortable. He was getting anxious as you continued to keep your mouth closed and never said a word. "Baby, you know you can trust me, right?" Jaehyun caressed your thumb in a comforting manner, his eyes showing how much he truly cared for you and how genuinely worried he was. He was scared that he might have done something wrong to you.

He himself never knew how it got to this. At first, just like you, he had only intended to find some fun in the relationship you both had and not actually grow some feelings towards you, but the first time he ever met you, all he ever had thought in his head was to protect you at all cost and give you everything you wanted, spoil you with all his money and riches, give you forehead kisses and pleasure that can make you see stars. Since the start, he only thought of this as something platonic and that it was a part of the agreement you both had consent on, but as you two got to spend more time together, he always felt something blossom inside of him. He always looked forward to every day, mainly because he had you to wake up to. His usual stoic expression, completely turned into those that said 'sunshine' all spread out on his face. That's when he completely knew, it was not only the benefits he was up for, anymore. It was you and his love for you.

He was just your usual workaholic man, who had nothing in his head rather than work, work, and work. Not until the day he bumped into you on that one faithful day, when you were so drained from all the studying you had to do and decided to buy coffee. You were so intimidated by his face that he got you cowering in fear when you turned to look up at him. The only courage you could muster was so small that you were only able to give him a polite bow before you entered the coffee shop to buy your favorite cappuccino coffee.

He was so intrigued by you that the next day, during that same time, he waited for you in that same exact location, but you never showed up. Until later. You were so shocked from the sight of him. You feared he'd beat you into a pulp, so you hid your face with your hand, hoping he didn't see you, but luck wasn't on your side that day and decided to let Jaehyun notice your presence.

"Hey, I—"

"Sorry, sir. I'm quite busy, right now." You immediately cut him off and got inside the shop, Jaehyun following suit. Your eyes made its way back towards the older who was following behind you closely. You stopped in your tracks and turned around to look at him, retracting his body from looking through your shoulders, throughout the whole time smiling down at you with his dimples showing. "Excuse me, sir, but do I owe you with something?"

Jaehyun pursed his lips, thinking before smirking and leaning closer to your face, with you, all the while, pulling your head back. "Yes." He answered you with his hands shoved confidently inside his pants.

Your gaze averted from his mesmerizing eyes to the table that supported you and kept you from falling. You gulped and felt your lips go dry. "D-do you need money? I don't have much, but will 7,000 won be enough?" You fondled through your pockets and took out your wallet.

"What? No, no." He chuckled, one hand taken out from his pockets and scratching his eyebrows while he sighed. "I have an offer."

Your brows were pulled together looking up at him, curious. "What is it?"

"Give me your number and I'll tell you over the phone."

And that's how it all started. Of course, he told you about lying that you owed him something, either way you were thanking the God above that he created you as gullible as ever.

As of the moment, Jaehyun could only feel his nervousness rise as he continued to stare at your back. "M/n, please say something. You're making me feel so worried."

"Jaehyun..." You finally stopped walking and spoke, before throwing yourself into him, the impact suddenly taking all the air inside Jaehyun's lungs away. "Don't leave me... please." You pleaded, your arms around him going tighter.

Jaehyun softened and felt himself get blanketed over with relief. He raised his hand to put it on top of your head and caressed them softly and soothingly. "I won't, M/n. I promise you."

In the end, Jaehyun was the one who treated you with something to eat. You were sat at a bench near your class' booth, Jaehyun next to you, while you swayed your feet back and forth. "Hyunnie." You called out to him with a new nickname you came up with, Jaehyun choking on his burger letting out a few coughs while you patted his back, laughing. "How the hell do you eat a burger that it got you choking on it?"

His coughing finally stopped and looked at you with a surprised face. "The nickname. You never called me that before."

You pouted in reply and blushed in embarrassment. "Do you.. not like it?"

"No, of course not." He was quick to shake his head, then cleared his throat, looking away. "It's cute."

You were able to see the pink tint painting his cheeks that you always found cute, since it's a very rare sight to see. Teasingly, you peeked over and was able to confirm that he was, in fact, blushing from just the nickname you created. "Oh my gosh, you're blushing." You cooed and immediately, Jaehyun scoffed, facing you to land a small kiss on your lips that got you widening your eyes and wiping away the mocking smile you had on your face. Your fingers made its way up towards your lips, unable to speak.

"Now, tell me who's blushing." Jaehyun smirked.

You glared at him, but instead of feeling intimidated, he found it cute. "I'm just surprised, since you never really like to, er, kiss me on the lips." You whispered the last part, loud enough for only you and him to hear.

You two were so happy in each other's company, that you both forgot that Jaehyun had somewhere else to be. That being his work. He wouldn't have noticed the time passing, if it wasn't for the alarm he had set, knowing he'd lose track of time when he's around you.

You walked him to his car and saw him off, waving your hand at him, not leaving until he was finally out of sight. You put your hands back down and sighed happily, walking back towards where you should be: at the booth where you should be finishing the preparation.

"So, how was the quick date?" Jeno asked you with a smirk, the sleeves of his shirt pushed back inside the hole that connected it to the shirt, showing his perfectly built muscles.

"It was great! Save for the part where I received death glares at the canteen. That felt terrible." You shuddered at the thought, but smiled again. "That aside, it was great."

"Your schedule didn't change? Are there still room for practice later?" Jeno asked you for the nth time that day. He's been asking you since you entered the classroom.

"It didn't, Jeno. Why are you so eager with me being present in the practice?" You chuckled at him, deciding to help him pack the treat bags you will give out to your customers.

"I just can't be left alone there with people I don't know. I'm an awkward person." Jeno told you.

"Jeno. You're literally known by all the students here and you're scared because they're strangers to you? I bet they all even want to be friends with you." You said, but Jeno just shook his head, his hair moving along with him.

"No, M/n. You must and need to attend the practice, either way." Jeno demanded of you.

You rolled your eyes at him and sighed deeply through your nose in defeat. "Fine, fine." Jeno's eye smile appeared and let out a small 'yes' making you chuckle.

"Hey, M/n." A voice started from outside the booth and saw a girl with her arms crossed, looking down at you whilst you seated at the ground. You looked up at her, but she didn't look friendly. She looked angry than friendly.

Your eyes flickered toward Jeno, then back to the girl and smiled. "Yeah?"

"Don't give me that smile, you whore." She spat at you, all of a sudden.

Your eyes closed shut, your mouth wide open and your forefinger raised up while you pushed it towards her way and scoffing. Your eyelids tore open and you smirked at the girl. "Excuse me? Whore? Who you calling a whore?"

"Listen, midget—"

"No, you listen here, Barbie." You said, a mocking tone with the last word. "You full on plastic, bitch. Get away from my sight. You look like a parasite."

The girl gasped in shock and opted to pull on your hair, but Jeno held her by her wrist and angrily stared at her. "You heard him. Get away. I'm not afraid to punch a person, even a girl, if they're purpose was to mistreat and shame on an innocent person." Jeno threw her hand away like it was trash, sending the girl from moving two steps back before stomping her foot and turning on her heels to walk away.

You could still see Jeno glaring at the girl while you looked at him in shock. "Wow, wow. Look at you."

"Sh. I'm not done yet." Jeno hushed you, before he continued his work. "You were saying?"

"Nothing. Was just shocked you told that girl off. I could have handled myself just fine, but thanks to you, I'm saved from causing a ruckus." You said, Jeno huffing through the nose.

"Seriously, you." He sighed pinching the bridge of his nose and knitted his brows. "Stop making the problem bigger."

"No way. I need to put up a fight. If I don't, they'd see me as someone weak." You defended yourself.

"And you can't even handle death glares that's being sent towards you?"

You were about to speak and fight back, but he was right. "That's... that's a different matter."

"Sure, it isn't, M/n." He said rolling his eyes.

Later that afternoon, past 5 p.m., you and Jeno excused yourselves from the class, since you have a dance practice for your performance on the opening of the foundation day. Out of habit, you skipped beside Jeno who was happy that you got to attend the practice today. Again.

You never really liked the person who choreographed the whole song. It was under a genre you thought you could never pull off or fit in, so your confidence was at a very low level. During practices, though, you try your best not to make it obvious that you were uncomfortable for that certain concept, but you still had to be seen making a lot of mistakes, some of the other students who joined clearly agitated. You could only bow and bow and bow at the mistake you knew you clearly had done, feeling guilty for the reason why always had to start again from the top. The reason why you never really got along well with these students.

You have arrived at the practice room, taking quiet steps as you both entered the venue trying your best not to make a sound. The intense gazes you received from the other students didn't come unnoticed by you, the reason why you pulled your knees closer to your chest as you buried your face in it. Clearly, they were enjoying those two few days you were absent, since they got to finish practice early and with no interruption nor mistakes. But, now that you're around, they knew exactly what awaited them.

Jeno saw you curled up into a ball and eyes making its way up to the students who looked so angry with you making him frown. "M/n. Don't mind them. You're actually doing even greater than them." He tried to cheer you up, so you acknowledged it with a smile.

"Thanks, Jeno. But, I don't think that will change the fact that my uneasiness with the dance is the reason why we have to start over and over again." You sighed and placed your head back down on your knees, Jeno drawing circles on your back.

A moment later, the mentor came walking in, displeased to see you present. "Oh, welcome back... M/n." He stated before you could hear those loud snickers coming from the students. You and Jeno were the first ones to stand in position, the others following suit. The mentor's face lit up with an idea on his mind. "Can everyone please take a seat for a couple of minutes?" He smiled, then looking at you. "Except for you, L/n."

Jeno's eyes fell upon you, a worried look on his face, mouthing 'I'll be fine' to reassure him as he sat back down along with the other students until it was only you and the mentor left standing. "You think telling your 'boyfriend' about me would scare me?" He mocked you with your head still hung low. "You have to try better than that." He smirked, pulling a chair to seat on it. His legs were on either side of the chair, so his chest was pressed upon the back rest of the chair to face you. "Start."

You were startled by the sudden order and went into position, but you only started fidgeting out of fear. "Where... I.. sir.. Do I stand—"

"L/n!" He yelled at you, making you jump from the sudden raise of his voice. You knew telling Jaehyun was a bad idea. "Fix yourself, will you? The performance is due tomorrow and you're such a mess." The misery you were caged in were the happiness of the students as they started to giggle, your fist clenching hard until your knuckles turned white.

The music started, but you were still nowhere from moving your body. You just stood there, head hanging low while gnashing your teeth. You weren't angry at the mentor. You were angry at yourself. You were angry that you couldn't do any better. You practiced the dance so hard, yet it were still so far from perfecting it. You just wished some kind of spirit would possess you and lead your body.

The whole place started to laugh at you as they watched you shamelessly froze on your position. You felt a small jab on your ribs that made you open your clenched fists and saw Jeno standing right beside you with a grin on his face, your expression softening as he started to lead the dance. Slowly, you felt your own body move to the beat and rhythm of the song, being at the same flow with Jeno. The students only watched while the song ended.

A slow clap from your mentor was heard, a smile plastered on his face. "Way to impress me you two, huh?" He stood from the chair and waisted his arms. "L/n." His eyes moved to you, expecting yet another scolding. "I'm proud of you. Keep up that confidence and I just know you'll do great." You felt a smile creeping its way up to your face, before the mentor closed in on you and ruffled your hair. "Alright, everyone. From the top."

-----

The practice ended at exactly eight o' clock in the evening and you were already feeling drained, your sweat soaked shirt sticking to your body. Your forehead glistened with sweat, that ran down to the side of your cheeks. You panted heavily and flopped your body down on the polished floor.

Why that late you ask? Well, you and Jeno decided to stay for a few hours to polish the dance, him pointing out your mistakes and going back to the steps to correct you. You were grateful Jeno was a very patient guy, so whenever you made a mistake or wasn't executing the dance properly, he'd just chuckle and help you with your 'cute mistakes', at least that's what he called it.

"Finally..." You panted, Jeno settling himself beside you, his limbs sprawled all over the floor. "Done."

"You did so great, M/n! I knew you could pull this off." Jeno gave you a compliment that made you giggle, a hand on your chest to catch your breathe.

"And it was all thanks to you." You told him.

Jeno shook his head. "Ey. The only thing I did was help your body to loosen up."

"Exactly." The cute noises coming out of your mouth once more. "Do you think we should practice more?" You asked the older who moved his head to look at you.

"Still up for one more?" He smiled knowingly at you, while you nodded at him. You both stood up from where you both lied and you went to your position with Jeno moving to the speakers to play the song for the last time.

The minute you both finished, you were so exhausted that your knees couldn't hold themselves up anymore and you fell to the ground, groaning. You were panting heavily, starting to even your breathing at the same time laughing proudly at yourself for how well you've done. "When I get home, I'm gonna take a shower and then, throw myself on the bed and sleep."

Jeno could only laugh and you two were left with half an hour talking about all the things in life. You listened to him rant about how the mentor was being more harsh on you than the other students, but you only shook the topic off telling him that it no longer mattered and that he should already move on. You had also thanked him for helping you, during that time when you had to do the dance routine all by yourself. You really didn't know what else to do than to just stand there and sulk.

A few minutes later, both of you were now starting to pack, Jeno having to make a quick visit to the restroom, leaving you all alone inside the studio. You were changing into a dry shirt, when the voice of the janitress from behind the window made your body go tense as you jumped and turned towards her. "Oh, fuck." You sighed out in relief, holding your hand close to your chest. "You scared me, ma'am."

Her eyes turned into those that looked like crescents and smiled. "My bad. Probably shouldn't have passed by unannounced." She nodded and proceeded to mop the hallway floor.

You were about to ask her about a certain matter that was troubling you, but when you lifted your head to face the woman, she was not there anymore. "Uh.. probably left for something." You shrugged it off and went back to scrolling through your feeds, the certain feeling of being watched sending chills down your spine. The silence was so deafening that you started to whistle to a song you were currently into, just to help calm the unnerving feeling. You started to feel all the hair on your body stand on its end when a very harsh opening of the door sent you off flying, then to the ground your heart beating so fast. "Shit!"

Jeno was obviously confused why you got so scared by him just pushing the door open, but he was also laughing at your state which made you glare at him. He helped you stand back up to your feet, as you dusted your pants from any invisible dirt. "What the hell happened to you?"

"You scared the shits out of me. That's what happened." You scoffed at him, hitching your back higher onto your shoulders. "Let's go." You two vacated the room, making sure to lock it, but you told Jeno not to since the janitress was still yet to finish cleaning, but Jeno was greatly puzzled at what you had said.

"What in the world are you talking about?" Jeno laughed lightly before proceeding to lock the door and hung an arm around your shoulder.

"I saw her through the window." You added.

Jeno shook his head in disbelief and didn't fall for your trick to scare him off. "First, the school does not hire a janitress or a janitor, since they have working students. Second, so the dance major students don't get distracted, the window inside the room is tinted, so you basically don't see anything outside."

You felt your heart sink at the revelation as you felt all your blood get drained. "Are you... s-sure?"

"Yeah." Jeno answered your question. You slowly turned your head back towards the room, the windows and saw a black figure waving their hands at you that made you sprinting off to the entrance, leaving a dumbfounded Jeno as he followed behind you. "What the hell, M/n?"

"Shut... up! You were not the one left inside the dance room, so you wouldn't know how much I'm fucking scared, right—"

"M/n!"

"FUCK!" You screamed on the top of your lungs, stomping your foot and punching the air for no apparent reason. "Jaehyun, you... nevermind. Just take me home, please. I think I'm already fucking wasted." Jaehyun, who was on his casual attire, approached you and placed a kiss on top of your head.

[phoenixyfriend]

Rex and Anakin Raise a Family: Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three – Chrono

Warnings: grief, resentment, lactation, animal death

----

For all that Anakin had said he could handle the twins, Rex still takes one in the sling as they go into town. They don't have a hoverpram yet, and neither of them could figure out a way to fold the fabric to securely hold the babies' heads up. Anakin takes Luke, and Rex takes Leia, and they ignore the whispers that still follow them.

The General keeps just behind his shoulder when they get to the hardware shop that carries the closest paint they can find in such a small town. It's not meant for armor, really, but speeder paint will do the trick for now. Rex's hands shake as he picks out the shades he needs, and the young Rodian at the register almost asks about it.

The issue isn't pressed.

They make their way back to the cottage, and Leia starts fussing fifteen minutes past the town's edge. Anakin looks like he wants to offer to take her back, but Rex is fine. He can comfort her. He can--

Anakin takes the paint, floating it along in the air before them, freeing Rex's hands to focus on the infant strapped to his chest.

"I'll feed her as soon as we get back," Anakin says, low and calm. "She's a little hungry."

Pacifier, then. They're only a few minutes out, by now. She can wait for them to get back to where exchanging the twins won't involve juggling.

Rex feels eyes on him, looks up and sees the soft, quiet smile on his General's face, and ducks his head back to Leia.

She glares up at him as well as a newborn can, sucking angrily on the paci in her mouth. Rex has no idea if she's actually upset or if her face just naturally follows such an expression, but it's adorable nonetheless. He hums to her, nonsense without words.

He's never learned lullabies; they picked up drinking songs in the field and from local soldiers, from their Jedi, war songs from their trainers, pop songs from the radio. A few learned lullabies, those who loved children and wanted their own, one day, brothers like Waxer who would have adopted Numa in a heartbeat if it had been an option.

He wants to learn lullabies. He wants to be able to sing children's songs to these tiny, helpless lives he holds in his hands, day in and day out. He wants to learn Mandalorian songs, real ones, not just battle chants and mourning melodies. He wants to be able to raise them with the childhood he didn't have.

"Rex? Door's open."

He looks up, and Anakin's standing on the porch, pulling the keys from the lock and gesturing in with his head. Rex hadn't even realized he'd stopped walking, subconsciously waiting for the blockage of the door to be handled. It's easier to focus on the children.

The paint gets sent to the backyard--trapped fumes wouldn’t be good for the children--and Rex lays Leia down in her crib. Anakin urges him to the backyard, says I’ll handle it about anything Rex uses to delay, and it’s only a few minutes later that Rex finds himself sitting on the grass, armor spread across a sheet of disposable flimsi, paints and brushes at the ready. He doesn’t quite remember setting it up, but he must have.

Anakin joins him, a twin in each arm and the Force laying out a picnic blanket. Leia’s nursing, swaddled up but content to suckle, and Luke seems happy to doze when Anakin sets him down on the cotton gingham. It’s a warm day, with a light breeze, and the babies are where the wind won’t carry the paint fumes.

“I’m here if you need me,” Anakin promises, though his attention drifts immediately to his daughter.

Rex begins to paint.

----

His remembrances are endless.

Every brother he’s ever known, every general he’s met, every small commander and random civilian, everyone he loved and knew. He lights a pyre, sings under his breath and tries not to break in a way that can’t be patched together. He mourns the tubies and cadets, the Jedi younglings, names he never learned and now never would.

Anakin gets Japor from somewhere, carves it whenever he’s too jittery to sleep and the twins are asleep. Rex recognizes a few symbols, like the open circle fleet, like Fives’ helmet eel, like Ahsoka’s markings. There are more, though, that are wholly unfamiliar, things he thinks are born of desert sands and binary suns, rough and painful and deeper in Anakin’s heart than even the Jedi.

He asks about the one for Fives, when he sees it.

He hides his anger.

Explanations, first.

“It’s an apology,” his General tells him, eyes distant. “I should have listened to him. I didn’t. The carvings are regrets, broken trust... that sort of thing. I’m part of why he died, and in that, part of why the rest is gone. He and his memory deserve a place of honor.”

Rex considers that, and accepts it.

Fives deserves an apology. The General recognizes that.

The General recognizes that he fucked up.

This is a good thing.

Rex lets go of his anger, still curled tight to his chest after months, as best he can.

He’s not very good at it, but he can try.

Luke starts crying, and Rex gets up to warm a bottle.

----

“I need to stay close to home until the twins are a little older,” Rex says. Teskarim, the woman at the childcare store, tilts her head to encourage him to continue. “I’m... I’ve never been anything but a soldier, and nobody here needs security services, but I can hunt. Do you know if there’s any kind of licenses required, or lists of which animals are legal hunt and which are endangered?”

“I... don’t,” she says, chewing her bottom lip. “But I think the butcher’s shop can probably point you in the right direction.”

Damn. He’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone new today.

“Thanks,” he sighs, and shells out some of the local currency for more formula.

----

The butcher has answers, and preferences. Rex isn’t much of a trapper, but he’s a hell of a shot, and decent enough scout and tracker. He listens to what there is to hear, and mentally takes all the notes he can. There aren’t any licenses needed in this hemisphere, but there are legally-defined hunting seasons for different creatures. The butcher knows when the optimal times of day are, which parts of the nearby forest and mountains are best to stake out, and so on.

Rex tells Anakin about his plan. He gets a slow blink in response, a cringe in what he thinks is guilt, and an offer to meditate for the best direction to take when he goes out. He accepts the offer in the spirit its meant, and sets out the next morning with the expectation that he may need to spend a few nights out under the leaves and stars.

The calm and quiet are their own kind of comfort. He’s loyal to Anakin, and he already loves the twins, but there’s a part of him that needs to be away from natborns right now. Anakin was a Jedi, a general, and fought in the metaphorical trenches with the rest of them, but he wasn’t a brother.

They grieve many of the same people, but they do not grieve the same way.

Rex needs the solitude. Not forever, not even for very long, but he needs it.

It takes two days, but he finds one of the in-season creatures, a creature shaped much like an Alderaan deer, but larger, and with longer fur. It’s darker in color, too, and he gives it a bit of time to wander about until he can be sure it’s a male, and he’s not about to leave some fawns without a mother. The shot is clean, and it doesn’t take him very long to tie it up and sling it over his shoulders to bring back to town.

The trek back takes hours, and the creature on his back is a pain to carry, but it’s almost worth the looks he gets from the civvies. Eyes bulge out the sockets at the sight of him, and he’s glad his helmet hides his smirk. He’s Kamino stock, hardened by over three years on the front lines, and there’s a pride in how easy the physical things are for him. It’s not impossible for a natborn to carry this kind of creature this far without help, but it’s uncommon.

He kind of likes the attention, now that it doesn’t come with the many prejudices that being a clone always had.

Anakin meets him at the butcher’s, one twin on his chest and the other on his back.

Seems he’s found a solution to that.

“Here to help me barter a fair payment?” Rex asks, and gets a too-charming grin in response.

“Well, I’ve been doing it most of my life,” Anakin says, cheery in a way that feels pasted on. “And I’ll have a trick to know if we’re being cheated.”

It’s a solid response, but Rex doesn’t like it. He takes note of the bags under Anakins eyes. “Have you been sleeping, sir?”

“Twins,” the man himself says. “And don’t call me ‘sir,’ Rex, we’ve been over this.”

“You need to sleep, General.”

Anakin pouts at him, probably because of the title. “I can handle two days alone, Captain.”

Rex rolls his eyes and sidles through the entrance of the butcher’s shop.

They’ve got this.

[tennessoui]

1,2,7,10,13 for obikin

i've gotten other asks for 1, 2, 10, and 13, so here's 7!! (also i need you to know I spent twenty minutes trying to figure out if I could make a story work that involved obikin as childhood friend (2) soulmates (1) who enter a fake relationship (7) during high school (10) before they meet again later as co-stars (13)

7. Fake Relationship AU (canonverse)(1.3k)

This is getting a tad ridiculous, even Anakin can admit it.

The first time had been purely instinctive. He and Obi-Wan had been sent on an undercover mission to a small moon port to track a recent Grievous sighting. They’d landed and gone to the bunk to grab their packs. WIth no fanfare and no warning, their ship had been boarded for inspection by a group of pirates with datapads calling themselves administrative guards.

Anakin had heard the footsteps, had decided they were too close to effectively hide the hilt of his lightsaber left on his bunk, had decided the only course of action was to hide it by pushing Obi-Wan on top of it, and landing on top of him, mouth attaching itself to the side of his neck and biting down hard enough to draw a yelp from his poor, confused Master. Anakin had moaned over exaggeratedly in response. Thankfully, Obi-Wan had understood fast enough when the sound of a blaster charging fills the room at the door. He’d blushed a very fetching--and convincing--shade of crimson.

“Get up,” one of the pirates had said.

“I, ah, can’t--” Obi-Wan had stuttered in reply, rolling his hips up a bit in emphasis. Anakin had been trying not to lose his mind. This had been his Force-damned idea after all.

The pirates had taken a look around the ship--all up to mission standards except for the lightsaber Obi-Wan had been laying on--and disembarked, saying something very derogatory about the pair of them.

“Sorry,” Anakin had said, flinging himself backward. “I panicked.”

“Right,” Obi-Wan had said, straightening his robes. “Let’s just never mention it again.”

But then it kept happening.

Obi-Wan, two months later, had pushed him against the wall of a club and covered his mouth with his own when their suspect had walked past them, looking suspiciously at the other club-goers.

A couple of weeks after that, Anakin had declared them to be married for no other reason than to get a woman to stop flirting so openly with Obi-Wan. The man had gotten his revenge a few days later when he had placed his arm around Anakin in the middle of a diplomatic dinner, and Anakin had choked on his food.

(“It makes us seem more approachable,” Obi-Wan had admitted later that evening. “To be in love. It humanizes us, puts people at ease, makes them more inclined to listen to what we say.”

“Yeah,” Anakin, who was incapable of listening to anything Obi-Wan told him while they were touching, had said. “Totally.”)

Okay. So it quickly got out of hand. But Anakin found himself craving the casual intimacy that had sprung up between the pair of them after months of pretending in public, even if it proved to be a dangerous thing to get used to.

For example:

After a year of pretending to be lovers at any given moment, they had been lounging on the couch in their quarters at the Temple. Ahsoka had come in. She’d looked at the way Anakin’s head had been centered in Obi-Wan’s lap, his fingers scratching through his hair as they both studied separate datapads. He’d even been humming under his breath. “Do you want to tell me something? Are you guys together?” she’d asked, voice raised in incredulity.

And Anakin had panicked, sitting up fast enough that he hits Obi-Wan’s chin with the top of his head, causing the man to let out a pained groan as he bit his tongue. And instinctively, because Anakin could not be expected to have a nice thing and not break it, after months of saying the same thing over and over in reply to the same question, he’d said, “We’re married!”

“We are not!” Obi-Wan had corrected him loudly and immediately as Anakin had buried his head in his hands in sheer despair and embarrassment.

It all comes to a head in the most unexpected of ways: quietly.

On a hostile planet deemed necessary to remain in the Republic, Obi-Wan and Anakin greet the dignitary at the palace gates. She seems already distrustful and disdainful, which is unfair seeing as how Anakin hasn’t even said anything yet. “Master Kenobi, if you will follow Servant Kawul to your quarters, I will take Master Skywalker to his.”

Anakin doesn’t like the sound of that, moving closer to Obi-Wan automatically. “We’d prefer to stay together,” he says as calmly as possible. It would be of no use to the negotiations if these people thought Anakin was no more of a youngling with separation anxiety.

“I’m afraid that’s quite inappropriate,” the dignitary responds with a sniff. “We allow only bonded partners to share quarters, and I see no bite mark on either of you. Unless it is hidden beneath your clothes?”

Anakin blushes at the mental image of Obi-Wan biting him anywhere, let alone beneath his clothes. “We are bonded though,” he says stubbornly, refusing to look at his Master. They’ve been careful to put some distance between themselves since the whole Ahsoka debacle, had instead acted like consummate professionals. It had made Anakin feel terribly empty, though he had no words to try to figure out why.

“Jedi do not bond through claiming bites but rather mental ties and our kyber crystals,” Obi-Wan steps in, lying fluidly as his hand comes up to rest against Anakin’s back. Immediately, Anakin relaxes until the touch. This is what had been so terribly missing, Obi-Wan's hands on Anakin's body.

“Your kyber crystals?”

“Oh yes,” Obi-Wan nods as if he’s not making this load of bantha shit up on the spot. “We use them to power our lightsabers. The crystals of a bonded Jedi pair sing the same song, for we are bonded at the soul. A bond that runs much deeper than that of the flesh.”

Anakin nods as seriously as he can when the dignitary looks over at him, but thankfully she doesn’t ask him to speak because he doesn’t think he’d be able to right now. He’s having a series of rather important and distinct realizations.

He thinks he might be in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and no one bothered to tell him about it.

“Very well,” she says, even though she doesn’t look happy about it. “Follow me then.”

As soon as they’re safely in their rooms and the woman is gone, Anakin whips out his lightsaber and powers it on. The familiar ringing of his kyber crystal echoes in the Force around him. Obi-Wan is carefully avoiding making eye contact with him, but his saber jumps into Anakin’s hand as soon as Anakin calls for it.

How has Anakin never noticed how special that was? How intimate? Has Ahsoka ever used Anakin’s saber? Has she ever been able to take it off of his person with no fight from the blade?

He flicks on the saber he knows as well as his own and listens to their songs in the Force. They’re not identical, but Anakin had known they wouldn’t be. Two crystals--two souls--could never be the same. But: “They harmonize,” he says with something like wonder in his voice. Of course they do. Of course they would. Of course every part of Anakin’s soul would fit perfectly in line with the edges and dips of Obi-Wan’s.

He turns them off and tosses them to the side so he can look at Obi-Wan, who’s standing defensively with his hands clasped together and hidden in his Jedi robes, something he only does when he’s feeling on edge.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asks.

“The best sort of lies are the ones that are the most believable. And the most believable lies are the ones that are built up from some sort of truth,” Obi-Wan says quietly, eyes looking almost longingly toward the door behind them, clearly thinking the worst of this conversation already.

“That makes sense,” Anakin says agreeably. “I must have been so good at pretending to be your partner because, really, I’m in love with you.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes snap to him immediately. Hope blooms across his face as he smiles.

[duskamethyst]

at last.

a/n: in celebration of reaching 200 followers. thank you. i’ve started this piece months ago but constantly failed to find the will to continue whenever i opened the draft. however, the response i’ve received from my other works gave me the drive and i knew i had to finish this.

word count: 4.1k

genre: smut, nsfw, fluff

pairing: musician!semi x f!reader

warnings: mirror sex, soft dom

summary: you and semi are in a band together. though having feelings for the male, you’ve always kept it professional until one night...

“thank you for tonight! you guys were amazing!” you speak through the mic enthusiastically, waving to the crowd as they cheered on and begging for an encore at the same time. “we hope to see your faces again when we come out with new songs soon! please continue to support us! we love you!” your lips curl into a huge smile, stepping off to the back of the stage while waving your fans goodbye before the staff hands you a towel to wipe off your sweat and a mineral bottle to cool off.

it’s another amazing night in a different city for you and the band. the feeling of having people enjoying your music and your voice is overwhelming and to have such wonderful bandmates to join you in this journey for three years now has you feeling beyond blessed.

the band started small, having the drummer and bassist as your high school besties while the guitarist, semi eita was later picked up along the way when one day you blasted on your socials and the small music stores stating the band needed a new guitar player. your band was pretty well-known in the town you live in, showing up and performing at a few gigs and now you’re much more familiar in the industry and often play in different cities. 

semi was one of the few candidates that was chosen to be part of the band. much to everyone’s surprise, playing the guitar wasn’t his only talent. semi was able to write lyrics, produce and sing and that’s what made him stand out among the others. while making the decision with your band mates, you guys knew not to pass up on him and today it proved to be the right decision you guys had made. 

to describe semi eita, he’s incredible. a genius and a sight for sore eyes. hell, he could even pass to be a model if he was into it. you knew that his addition to the band could garner more fans through his skills and looks. on his first night at the gig as the guitarist, you noticed how some of the girls there were ogling him and especially recording him through their phones, even the older woman who was practically forced to be there almost every night by her husband paid more attention (and you believed it was because of semi’s presence) as your band performed. maybe the fangirls could start off by drooling over his looks before they could slowly support the band entirely, hence building a bigger fanbase. 

you feel a little bad for him. you believe that semi is more than just his looks but you can’t really blame people for liking pretty things– it’s only natural. semi has a burning passion for music and what he does and he works tirelessly for the band. he gives his all when he writes lyrics and he uses most of his time by himself inside the studio, learning and enhancing his skills further. you often accompany him in the studio, offering your opinions when he shares the new lyrics he came up with and the studio would be filled with harmonizing voices of yours and his. 

a weird fuzzy feeling engulfs you when you learn that semi had always especially asked for you to join him in the studio and never the other guys, but you alway shrug it off; reminding yourself that it’s only because of work and nothing else.

though no matter how much you try to deny your feelings, you know you’re already head over heels for semi eita.

you sigh and put down your luggage as soon as you walk into your hotel room before looking out at the window to see the fans that were swarming as you arrived earlier begins to dissipate slowly. as you’re smiling and being lost in your thoughts, you start to hear strumming sounds from the other side of the room– undoubtedly semi’s. 

it’s way past midnight and you’re all tired from the tour and the recent performance. while all you can think about is getting inside the tub and having a good night sleep, semi on the other hand can only think about the next show and creating new music. though he’s much more new to the industry compared to you, he works so diligently and it makes you feel a bit guilty and shameful. so you decide to come up to his room and see if he needs anything– or maybe just to persuade him to stop thinking about work and go to sleep. 

“eita, it’s me.” you say as you knock on his door. you hear the strums come to a halt before he opens the door for you. “gosh, you look terrible.” 

it’s only partly true. his hair is disheveled and he only has his jeans on from earlier but you try so hard not to check him out and quickly walk inside his room. semi closes the door as he turns to you, “you’re not asleep yet?” 

“no, i heard you were playing and that’s why i’m here. you know you should be sleeping instead, right?” you sit on the couch where he was sitting earlier. sheets of paper are spread on the coffee table and you pick up the one with the lyrics that he wrote. 

“sorry,” he apologizes as he sits next to you and notices the one that you’re reading. “but it’s good that you’re here too.” 

ignoring the little skip your heart made, you refuse to look at him and read one of the lines out loud in an attempt to play cool.

“i’m alone,

“i just wrote that one in the van earlier.” he scratches the back of his neck as he laughs nervously. his eyes never tearing from you, just watching while you scrutinize through his little work.

i’ve nowhere to go,

but you gently held my hand.”

you smile as you finish reading the last line of his incomplete lyrics and turn to look at him, “i wonder what it sounds like?”

“ah, i haven’t figured it out much but i think it could go like this.” he grabs the guitar from where he left earlier and places it in front of his chest before slowly strumming a few chords. you watch as his fingers sweep up and down across the strings, his black nails that you painted weeks ago are only left with little residues. 

it sounds exactly like you heard in your room earlier. his voice and the tunes he’s making fills the room and it sounds absolutely beautiful. you can sense the longingness in his work this time around, a little different from what he used to play but a little change doesn’t really mean bad– it feels like something that many people can relate to.

you gleefully clap your hands as he stops playing and a faint blush creeps up to his cheeks which he hopes you don’t notice. 

“what’s your inspiration this time?” you ask as he puts back down the instrument.

“well…” semi sighs and leans further into the couch. “someone special to me– the reason i started pursuing this.” 

a heavy lump suddenly forms in your throat, making your stomach churn at the thought of semi having someone special in mind but you quickly shake off the feeling. you’ve always been close with the male, he was easy to get along with from the start and semi would agree that out of all the members, he spent the most time with you; though it's only because it’s strictly on a work basis and you respect that, and you remain professional.

“must be. you’ve never written anything so personal but tell me all about it! you know i won’t judge.” you force a smile, hoping that it’s not too obvious and instead semi laughs at your eagerness to know about his little puppy love. 

“it’s not even that great. i feel like it’s rather ironic– the reason i pursue this is also the reason we can’t be together.” he looks at you as he speaks, as if searching for something.

“damn, that sucks so bad.” you lean back to the couch with him and gaze at the ceiling while imagining the type of person semi would like and start to mindlessly compare yourself to them– putting you down even further.

“you get it, right? on top of that, i think we would lose some fans if we start to date.” he continues as he rests his arm behind your head in a more relaxing manner. he hopes that he emphasized the word clearly so he could get a reaction from you.

however, you only laugh a bit at his consideration. you can already imagine the online articles being bombarded about semi being in a relationship, not forgetting the snarky remarks and lashes he and his partner might get on stan twitter and the thought makes you shudder.

“but i would want to see you happy... even if it’s not with me.” you mumble lowly before realizing what you just blurt out on the last part. “i mean- i mean- i was thinking from a fan’s point of view, of course!”

the sight of you being bashful and constantly avoiding to make eye contact with him is endearing to him. he can’t help but to laugh and it provokes him to tease you instead. his hand creeps up to pull and tuck away the strands of hair behind your ear, instantly drawing your attention to the male next to you. you’re waiting for him to speak but he only stares quietly at you with a gentle smile across his face. 

“what?” you’re surprised at how meek you sound and you know he notices it when his smile turns into an amused shit-eating grin. 

“really? you’d be happy for me?” he asks, leaning his head down on the arm he has hanging on the couch back. 

“um, yeah? since you’re my–”

“friend?” he cuts you off in an instant. “i’d be happier to at least know that you’d feel jealous, though.” 

jealous? you blink and nervously laugh at the poor joke, “why would i be– you’re funny. anyways, go to sleep!” 

semi’s lips tug into a frown as you stand up from the couch and when you’re about to take a step away, semi grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him. he wraps his arms securely around you and buries his face at the nape of your neck, inhaling the very faint scent from your expensive perfume you had on before the show. 

“you’re so close, yet so far.” his hot breath fans against your skin as he murmurs with a hint of frustration lacing his voice. 

thinking not too deeply into it, you disregard the butterflies in your stomach, “yeah, i think you can put that in the song.” you attempt to reply coyly, concealing any suggestions of you being a total nerve-wreck right now. 

“god dammit.” semi curses. he turns your face to look at his, “this isn’t about work anymore.”

“what–” he presses his lips on yours and his arms pull you closer to him which your body wastes no time but to completely melt into.

semi pulls away to take a breath, locking his brown eyes with yours as he speaks. “stop making me feel so lonely.”

“i’m… sorry…?” your apology comes out unsurely, not knowing where this conversation is leading up to and it’s making you feel apprehensive more than anything. there’s no way he’s confessing, right?

semi sighs as he runs his fingers through your hair, “i used to only play the guitar as a hobby but you’re the reason why i even thought about getting into this band.” 

you’re out of words to speak from the abruptness and remain quiet before he continues, “i thought i’d be happy enough just being close to you but i realized i wanted more than that. am i being selfish?”

you break free from his grasps and turn to the blushing male before curling into his chest. semi’s body is still as he processes what’s happening and slowly relaxes as he wraps his arms around you again.

“no, eita, no. you’re not.” you reassure. “i really had no idea.” 

“then, can i kiss you again?” 

“whatever you want, eita.” you mutter under your breath before he gently cups your chin with his fingers and pulls you into a deep kiss. 

for the second time that night, you feel as if you’re on cloud nine as your wet tongues twirl against each other in your mouths. a faint taste of tobacco and beer still lingers on his tongue but you pay no mind to it when you’re too busy drowning into your own ecstasy. 

semi manages to push you down on your back without breaking the kiss and props on his knees before his hands wander all around your body. a gasp passes your lips when he squeezes your breasts against your shirt and his lips move down to nip on your neck. 

“e-eita...” you breathe and the male pulls away to look at you with heavy lidded eyes– and they’re filled with desire. 

“whatever i want, right?” he whispers and you nod your head before he delves back down to litter bruises on your skin. “and what i want is you.” 

warmth surfaces on your cheeks as you hum in response, a subtle reply to tell him that the feeling is mutual. as soon as semi lifts up your shirt, he quickly tips down to tug your bra and latches his mouth on your hardened nipple while his fingers tweak the other. the stimulation causes your body to jolt in pleasure and you can practically feel yourself drenching in your panties.

semi glances up at you expectantly when he notices your thighs are pressed together underneath him. with his other free hand, he lifts up your denim skirt and rubs circles on your clit against the damped fabric. 

you mewl and tug his hair gently as your hips desperately grind against his finger for relief. 

“does it feel good?” he speaks softly. “you’re so wet for me.”

“y-yeah.” you mumble a little bit in embarrassment after he pointed it out but semi finds it to be endearing as he lets out a breathy chuckle. 

“i’ll make you feel even better,” he grins, bending your knees up and spreading them apart. “but i need to hear it.”

you nibble your lip anxiously, “please?”

“please what?” he coos, though he’s already settling his head down between your thighs while he looks at you with passion filled eyes.

your lips feign a pout but your pussy twitches when you feel his finger pulls your panties to the side, “please make me feel better.”

“good enough.” he smirks before spreading your puffy folds and sticks out his tongue to lap off your essence. 

a loud moan rips from your throat as he sucks on your clit and purposely teases it with quick flicks with the tip of his tongue. your legs start to tremble and try to close together but to no avail since semi holds them apart from crushing his head. 

there were nights where he could only touch himself while imagining how you would sound like writhing underneath him but tonight, you made his dreams turn into reality. your moans and whines are like music to his ears and they’re better (and he knows it would be) than what he expected. now semi is driven even more to hear what more beautiful sounds you can produce for him.

semi groans when he slips one finger inside your tight hole and you cry in surprise as you feel his finger brushing in and out through your walls. he can feel that the walls are already sucking him greedily while your hips jerk to fuck yourself with his finger.

“god, you’re so fucking hot.” he grunts, inserting another finger and fucks you ruthlessly. you can feel your orgasm building and threatening to tip over when his finger curls, hitting your g with every drag. 

“fuck, eita–” you pant as your toes curl over the unbearable stimulation and causes your body to shake. 

“feels great, hm? i want you to cum all over my fingers.” he toys with the swollen bud before harshly sucking it.

“mmhh– gonna cum!” your eyes screw shut as your orgasm finally crashes down and your pussy gushes and flutters around his fingers.

your breathing turns erratic and a whine escapes your lips from the emptiness when semi pulls out to lick his fingers.

“you taste so fucking good.” he groans, hovering above you and crashes his lips onto yours so you can taste your own juices from his tongue before he pulls away breathlessly.

“i want to make you feel good too, eita.” you whisper almost innocently and push him back so he can sit down on the couch. semi watches you as you kneel beside him to unbuckle his belt and proceed to unbutton and unzip his jeans swiftly before he helps you release his throbbing dick from its confinements. 

you nearly gawk at the size of his cock; thick and veiny, tip flushing red with a bead of precum. you give a few strokes with your hand and a sharp hiss rolls off his tongue as soon as he feels your tongue swirling around the slit and slowly taking a fair amount inside your mouth. 

“fuuuuck.” he sighs as he sinks into his seat further, eyes closed shut as he lets you take over. you offer the pressure needed by pressing the bottom of the length with your hand and hollowing your cheeks while your tongue runs up and down the rest of his cock, slobbering it with your saliva. 

“oh, fuck– baby. that feels so fucking good.” tears prickle from the corner of your eyes when you force yourself to take deeper into your mouth and his hips jerk when the tip hits the back of your throat. semi’s hand finds itself on top of your head; he makes sure not to tug your hair too hard as he guides you bottom to top and a pop sound is audible when he pulls you away just before he feels like he’s about to cum. 

he wipes the tears from your eyes and kisses you while pulling his jeans and boxers all the way down before continuing to carry you off from the couch with him and leads you to his bed. 

“can i?” he looks at you concerningly and you nod your head yes.

“take it all off.” he commands once he puts you down on the bed. what seemed to be the gentle semi is long gone but his dominating side makes you undeniably excited so you easily oblige, peeling off your clothes until you’re bare and naked in front of him.

“on your knees.” he orders again and you submissively get on your knees but he stops you before you can lean down on the bed. “face the mirror.”

you turn your head to see the large mirror in front of the bed and shift again as he climbs on the bed and props behind you. 

“i want us both to see how pretty you look when i’m balls deep inside you.” he grins.

a soft mewl rolls off your tongue when semi smears your juices through your slits with his cock. he grabs your hips for leverage as he slowly penetrates into your hole and you bite your lip hard when you can feel his girth stretches you out both painfully and deliciously. semi gives you a moment to adjust and after receiving the green light does he begin to move his hips. 

“i’ve waited so long for this.” he growls, black nails digging deeper into your skin that'll be able to leave crescent marks by the end of the session as he pounds his cock into your cunt erratically. 

your cheek is pressed down and your hands clutch the bed sheet as you feel his veins brushing against your walls and his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. semi’s breathing is already ragged from above you, hips diligently rolling into you as he picks up the pace. 

“look at you, baby– fuck– i’m so lucky.” you moan at the praise, subconsciously feeding to your ego; to be desired by semi and to have semi fucking you into oblivion. 

“s-so good.” you whine, glancing up to the mirror to see yourself but what you’re mostly able to see is the man behind you. his toned abs, ash blonde bangs almost covering his eyes and brows furrowed in focus as he ruts into you mercilessly like a feral beast and it’s fueling your arousal even further.

a mischievous smile etches on his lips as his hazy eyes light up once they meet yours through the reflection, “i don’t think you can see yourself that well.”

you feel your body being lifted up abruptly before he makes you stand on your knees with your back against his broad chest. in front of you, you can clearly see the mess he has made out of you; hair unkempt, pussy slopping and dripping down his balls and the sheets from where your bodies are connected. 

“better.” he smirks through the mirror. both of your eyes fixed on the reflected image ahead; your tits bouncing up and down as he continues to thrust into you while his arm wraps around your torso to hold you in place. 

“so– pretty. my baby– my muse.” he says in between grunts and takes one hand to cup your face. “can you see my cock go in and out of you?” semi intends to show you how lewd it looks by pulling out his thick cock slowly and pushing back inside your pussy in an agonizing pace. 

“yes, fuck– eita.” you sob, staring at the mirror ahead as you see his cock glistens with slick when he pulls out from your stretched cunt and fills you back in, edging you at the same time. 

“and what happens when i touch you here?” he coos, reaching down to press your clit with his thumb. a shock of pleasure washes through your body, making your eyes roll back and your head thrown back to his shoulder. “come on, you can tell me.”

“it’s-it’s gonna make m-me cum.” you whimper as your hips roll desperately against his finger and each time he plunges into you. 

“and you’re gonna sing my name when you do, right?” 

“yesyesyes– please, just–” semi cuts you off by continuing his pace again and the knot in your stomach tightens at the feeling of being stuffed full when he rams deep inside you along with his ministrations on your throbbing bud.

his other hand pinches your pebbled nipple and causes you to keen in pleasure and you finally open your eyes to look at the mirror again to see the compromising position you’re in and the way he manhandles you; having absolute control all over your squirming body with both his hands and his cock– and it got your vision turning white as you tip over the edge. 

“eita!” your lips part into a scream as your pussy flutters around his cock and come undone. the walls squeezing him elicits a low growl from his throat and he holds your body with both his arms as he remains to fuck you in order to chase after his own high.

“fuck– that’s it.” he kisses your head when you let out a choke from the overstimulation. “i’m gonna fill this pretty pussy.” sporadic thrusts begin to stutter as his balls tighten and his cock twitches inside you to indicate that he’s close to reaching his orgasm and a loud moan rips from his throat as he finally comes undone. 

semi stills for a few moments inside you, catching his breath and regaining composure before he lifts your body slightly to pull out his softening cock. your trembling knees fail to keep you up so your body falls down on the mattress and semi chuckles at the sight as he joins next to you. 

“you did so good for me, love.” his sharp, brown eyes gazes adoringly into yours and a soft smile tugs the corner of his lips as he caresses your hair. “was i too rough?”

“just a little,” you blush. “but i liked it.”

semi sighs in relief and draws closer to give a chaste kiss on your forehead, “i’ll run a warm bath for you, alright? then we can go to sleep.”

you nod your head, feeling warm and fuzzy when he holds you in his strong arms before he leaves for the bathroom. as you wait and hear water filling the tub, your mind wanders how you’re going to break the news to your manager about your blossoming relationship with semi. 

and semi thinks about the same thing too. 

whatever it is, it doesn’t matter to him. 

as long as he has you.

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[inkmemes]

ryan  ross  lyric sentence  starters ↪  taken  from  various  songs  he’s  written,  lyrics  he’s  sung,  &  poetry  he’s  penned.  trigger  warnings  for  mentions  of  sex,  cheating,  drugs.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“so close …”

“i am composing a burlesque.”

“i'm all alone in an afterglow.”

“but we haven’t even met yet.”

“this war ain't gonna fix itself.”

“you can’t be lonely.”

“you're gonna have to dig your way out.”

“she was nowhere to be seen.”

“some people never change.”

“i know i broke your heart. mine is broken too.”

“i'm carving pumpkins.”

“i'm afraid that i may have faked it.”

“though you tried to cut me down it wasn’t deep enough.”

“this may call for a proper introduction.”

“i know it’s mad.”

“all the lights are on, but no one's home.”

“a year ago, i was dreaming of where i am now.”

“charm your way out.”

“we're all too small to talk to god.”

“you’re invited.”

“it's not so pleasant.”

“if you're going, then go.”

“i was suspicious and naive.”

“we're still so young, desperate for attention.”

“things have changed for me, and that's okay.”

“that's the spirit.”

“watch your mouth.”

“it started with a simple kiss.”

“don't you move.”

“what a wonderful caricature of intimacy.”

“we'll never go hungry.”

“praying for love in a lap dance and paying in naivety.”

“i lie in silence and feel like a fool.”

“grab your hat and fetch a camera.”

“your eyes are the size of the moon.”

“it's time for us to take a chance.”

“you should take this heart of mine.”

“how did i get here in the right from wrong?”

“i know it just doesn't feel like a night out.”

“it just made her more interesting.”

“she didn't even see me.”

“do you know what i mean?”

“i'm wrecking this evening already, and loving every minute of it.”

“i sure do make an easy target.”

“someone i love loves someone else.”

“don't bother waiting up.”

“don’t you go down.”

“you vanished when you'd gotten what you came here for.”

“would it be alright if we just sat and talked for a little while?”

"when did he get all confident?"

“you know it will always just be me.”

“i feel the same.”

“all my forgotten poems are a joke.”

“she'd wanna kiss you all the time.”

“i want a big celebration.”

“i'll ignore my heart and lie to the truth.”

“film the world before it happens.”

“that's just ridiculously odd.”

“it grows like fancy flowers.”

“he tried to save the calendar business.”

“i wonder if this was physical or if it could have been in my head.”

“i wouldn't be caught dead in this place.”

“you're pulling the trigger all wrong.”

“i saw you, i met you, i loved you.”

“so let me set you free.”

“i'm aware that you're scared of my heart, but it's here.”

“northern downpour sends its love.”

“you better put that pen to paper.”

“if you're gonna preach, for god sakes, preach with conviction.”

“haven't you heard that i'm the new cancer?”

“i know i broke your heart.”

“i am something velveteen.”

“we're locked inside.”

“just don't put your teeth on me.”

“when i’m good, i’m the baddest.”

“i’m up, looking for you now.”

“you can call me tonight.”

“it sure as hell ain't normal.”

“haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?!”

“we sure are in for a show tonight.”

“can't take the kid from the fight.”

“she's got me twisted in love.”

“i could've waited for the train to come.”

“you could love me if i knew how to lie.”

“if it were me, i'd write another song.”

“i fell from the heavens as a fetish.”

“i am renewed.”

“i hope that i've still got your help.”

“take a look at what you got me into.”

“we should feed our jewelry to the sea.”

“who could ask for any more?”

“i'm pouring out my heart for paper.”

“i need to leave you but i never will.”

“i forgot how to call you.”

“just stay where i can see you.”

“it's the greatest thing that's yet to have happened.”

“i’m doing my best.”

“she didn't choose this role.”

“life is not a fairytale.”

“our loneliness will keep us warm.”

“i don't mind taking a photograph.”

“you're gonna bend until it breaks.”

“maybe something in my blood could lift my spirits up.”

“i am out of my mind.”

“imagine knowing me.”

“i hope it's where i belong.”

“is it still me that makes you sweat?”

“your speech is slurred enough that you just might swallow your tongue.”

“i must be lucky to have you be the one who loves me.”

“but who could love me?”

“you clicked your heels and wished for me.”

“give me your attention.”

“you set the house on fire.”

"man, it feels good to feel this way."

“i've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck then any boy you'll ever meet.”

“if the clouds were singing a song, i'd sing along. wouldn't you, too?”

“i know i've been wrong.”

“kissed a girl in the lobby ‘cause she asked so politely.”

“i can't get out by myself.”

“true love like ours is worth so much more than a diamond ring.”

“it never made her happy, 'cause she couldn't ever have me.”

“i do drunk dialing minus the alcohol.”

“i hope to god he was worth it.”

“he looked like he was barely hanging on.”

“why do i find myself outside at your window in the night?”

“i'd put a statue of myself upon the shelf.”

“they spill unfound from a pretty mouth.”

“ i'm going to need you to keep time.”

“you better back your shit up.”

“i think i owe it to you to try to be every hallucination you see in me.”

“you do this all the time."

“you're not what he's thinking of when he's with the other girl.”

things have changed for me.”

“this was no accident.”

“it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.”

“just sit back and relax.”

“i, for one, won't stand for this.”

“we play by donner party rules at all times.”

“the glitter is gone.”

“boys will be boys.”

“you're all that's left for me.”

“my mind is all mixed up.”

“who knew that love was a dangerous drug?”

“'she couldn't ever have me.”

“isn't this exactly where you'd like me?”

“we can play normal for a few days.”

“i ground my teeth and you bite your tongue.”

“in case i lost my train of thought where was it that we last left off?”

“it seems i’m someone i've never met.”

“i think i made you up.”

“it never gave a damn about me.”

“perhaps, i was born with curiosity, the likes of those of old crows.”

“i'm cold, i'm hungry, but i'm bored.”

“i don't want no gifts.”

“the monster mash is playing.”

“do you really even live here?”

“this kind of thing always happens.”

“you were right. i was wrong, like i always am.”

“i missed your skin when you were east.”

“i feel as if i’m a figurine.”

“every night is the same.”

“ i'm sure i didn't ruin her.”

“i could have sworn we danced slow before.”

“i'm seated and sweating to a dance song on the club's pa.”

“it's nice to think that you are always wanted.”

“am i who you think about in bed?”

“you'll never know until you're there.”

“come on, this is screaming ‘photo op’.”

“you and i will always be ‘the dream’.”

“any practiced catholic would cross themselves upon entering.”

“it was a scream when we were young and dumb.”

“i know i should've never left.”

“who can i believe?”

“she always had her fangs at my jugular vein.”

“and a few more of your least favorite things.”

“in matters of opinion, love has gone insane.”

“if i go to hell will you come with me or just leave?”

“in the house of mirrors, ain't nothing keep you safe.”

“you know that you feel it too.”

“now we're making some progress.”

“god damn, i’d hate to see what i’d do under the influence.”

“i’m only reflecting your perfections.”

“just a first kiss to face the new year.”

“we’ll sit in silence.”

“you're a regular decorated emergency.”

“euphoria is a risk on the floor.”

“she could never win me.”

“love is all i'm really after.”

“have some composure,.”

“this was a therapeutic chain of events.”

“on the hotel floor, drinking warm champagne.”

“we need to talk.”

“every word gets you a step closer to hell.”

“let me help you please.”

“i never said i missed her when everybody kissed her.”

“now i know it's just a matter of time until i make her come.”

“if the world were ending, would you kiss me or just leave me?”

“forgive me if i’m not quite ready to give them to you.”

“i want to know what everyone knows.”

“you told me not to fear the dark.”

“the weather is impeccable.”

“i don't love you, i'm just passing the time.”

“i can't help but to hear an exchanging of words.”

“love is established philosophy.”

“but it might’ve been the calm that comes before the storm.”

“let's sing it like you mean it.”

“there's a devil in the corner.”

“there’s never anything good on tv.”

“everything goes according to plan.”

“i ran from love like it was laced.”

“i guess we're back to us.”

“we can't help ourselves.”

“i remember fuckin' in the falling rain.”

“i wasn't born to be a skeleton.”

“i couldn't quit her.”

“everything's gone missing.”

“we must reinvent love.”

“i know it's sad that i never gave a damn about the weather.”

“what do i know?”

"the best part about you was me."

“check the pocket of my leather jacket.”

“i am truly made of one million glowing constellations.”

“i mean, technically our marriage is saved.”

“she's a dangerous place.”

“even the truth is wrong sometimes.”

“was it god who chokes in these situations?”

“i feel like something on strings.”

“she couldn't ever catch me.”

“i try not to think about it and you.”

“i know it's just a matter of time.”

“i can't prove this makes any sense, but i sure hope that it does.”

“you know you should take it a day at a time.”

“i never said i’d leave the city.”

“it's the greatest thing you'd ever imagine.”

“i might have lost control.”

“i'm in a rut but still adored.”

“i'll keep my distance.”

“i need to take a vacation.”

“it's almost halloween.”

“is it a fairy tale?”

“well, this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne.”

“you can't stand it.”

“i'm exactly where you'd like me, you know.”

“we were always thick as thieves, you and me.”

“maybe i will, maybe i won’t.”

“all i want to do is dig a hole with you.”

“stop stalling.”

“it truly is enough to be alive and be in love.”

“i can't believe my eyes.”

“if i were to die tonight, would you cry, or deny my place in your life?”

“you are at the top of my lungs.”

“things do like to build up and fall apart at the same time for me.”

“why can't we just be friends?"

“i never know where the evening goes.”

“i want to go where everyone feels the same.”

“i fell in love again.”

“all i do is lie.”

“they asked for it.”

“was it all a dream?”

“all your wishes, they will sink like stones.”

“i wandered through the sunshine.”

“living even one minute without you is a moment i'd rather not have to live to see.”

“i want to go where everyone goes.”

“i think that i have had enough.”

“asked to be her husband; she already had one in prison.”

“true love is scarce.”

“somehow it still came undone.”

“things are shaping up to be pretty odd.”

“is ‘young’ a word for ‘dumb’; a word for ‘fun’?”

“said i'd let you keep it forever.”

“i never said i’d leave this town.”

“guess i'm going to a party.”

“damn, this is rough.”

“someone should have told her that pretty ain't a job.”

“something changed along the way.”

“i can't convince myself that you were good for more than cheap thrills.”

“now i’m the only one to blame.”

“let's not get selfish.”

“i hardly knew a thing about you.”

“give your feet a chance, they'll do all the thinking.”

“make a name for yourself.”

“it's useless searching in the cupboards.”

“i won't cut my beard and i won't change my hair.”

“it’s just the end of the world.”

“back to the room where it all began.”

“what was it that you put into my guts?”

“what a shame.”

“we'll leave the past out to pasture.”

“i know the world’s a broken bone, but melt your headaches, call it home.”

“everybody knows it but you.”

“it looks like the end of history as we know.”

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

of all i am made of (perhaps you are too)

ao3

Hugo does not believe in soulmates.

To be fair, he doesn’t much believe in anything but the feeling of coin in his pocket and the clever bite of his dagger. What use has he for god and destiny when he carves his own path of lies through time, with a sharp tongue and a cocky smile.

Why should Hugo believe the universe would gift him a soulmate when it already has made it perfectly clear that nothing is free?

Besides soulmates are rarities of the past--legends and folktales on the lips of elders and religious fanatics; the former clinging to superstition from the od era, the latter feeding false promises and hope to the instupid masses.

Soulmates are for hopeless romantics and tiny children. Not for Hugo.

“That does not surprise me,” Nuru says, the beginnings of a smile forming on her face.

She’s lying down in the golden field where they’ve set camp for the night. The contrast of the bright yellow against her dark skin is stunning-particularly in the moonlight, with her dark hair fanning out about her head.

Hugo, who is sitting upright a few paces away and playing with his daggers, frowns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, unsure if he should be feeling defensive or not.

Nuru folds her arms beneath her head, propping herself up enough to make eye contact with him. “Even if you had a soulmate, you wouldn’t know what to do with them,” she scoffs.

He snorts. “ You believe in soulmates?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“Yes, actually. I thought you were the rational one in this party.”

Nuru gives him an expression that indicates how stupid she thinks he is. “I might be the only person who can keep their head in a crisis, but that doesn’t mean I can’t believe in a higher power, Hugo.”

She rolls over, so that she’s laying on her stomach, facing him. “Burning stars fall in my homeland every year. There are stories of a sun princess who’s tears heal the dead. Varian somehow hasn’t strangled you yet. I think you’d better start believing in a god.”

“Or soulmates apparently,” Hugo mutters.

“Or soulmates,” Nuru says. “Would it really be that far-fetched?”

“Do I believe there’s someone out there who shares my dreams? Or has my name written above their heart? Hard pass, Princess.”

“Alright then, how about sharing the same soul?” Nuru asks, folding her hands together and resting her chin on them. “You’re telling me that doesn’t sound at least a little romantic?”

“I don’t have a soul.”

“Now that,” she says, a grin stretching across her face, “that I can believe.”

___

“I think Anya’s my soulmate,” Yong says dreamily, staring at Varian’s redheaded cousin like she hung the fucking moon.

Hugo, despite secretly adoring the round child, rolls his eyes. Hard. “Do you even know what that means?”

“It means we share the same time threads,” Yong replies distractedly.

Varian and Anya are nerding out over something-something Hugo would find interesting or fun to mock them over, but right now, for some reason, he’s more interested in Yong’s adorable-if not misguided-crush on Varian’s little cousin.

“Time threads,” Hugo laughs, cracking his knuckles. Yong winces at the noise, momentarily taking his eyes off the two babbling alchemists. “Alright, color me curious. What are time threads?”

Yong frowns. “You’ve never heard of time threads? Every child in Koto learns about them.”

Ah, must be some religious poppycock only spread in the fire kingdom.

“Well, I’m not a child living in Koto, am I?” Hugo replies lightly. “Spill, little pyro.” He pokes the kid in the shoulder repeatedly until he gets swatted.

“Her lady, Odiyesi, spins a thread for each person,” Yong recites in a sing-song voice. “This thread contains the beginning, the middle, and the end of our lives. If she so chooses, two threads will be intertwined-maybe even beyond the Snip, if she wills it.”

“The Snip?”

“Oh yeah, that’s when you die,” Yong says, side eyeing Hugo.

Hugo ruffles Yong’s hair. “And you think Anya is your thread partner. That’s so cute .”

Yong ducks out from under his hand, scowling. “Why did you ask if you don’t even believe it?” he mumbles, face pink.

“You know what I think?” Hugo asks, pretending like he doesn’t hear Yong. “I think you should go right up to here and tell her all that. Give her a heads up about your eternally bound souls.”

“Your soul is eternally bound to the underworld,” Yong shoots back, with a surprising amount of fire.

Hugo bursts into laughter. “That,” he says, “is the first thing you’ve said all day that makes sense.”

___

“What do you think about soulmates?” Hugo asks mildly. He has a glass of wine in one hand, but he’s barely tasted it. Instead, he stands, staring out the stained glass window and into the courtyard.

Donella, sitting behind her desk, looks up from Varian’s Ulla’s journal-recently procured by Hugo.

The amount of deception and sneaking around he’d gone through to actually get it out of Varian’s line of sight had been painstakingly difficult. And it had been even harder coming up with an excuse to Nuru why he needed to spend the night somewhere other than their current lodgings.

He doesn’t really remember the lie. Just the trust in the Princess’s face when she’d briefly patted him on the shoulder, telling him to be back by sunrise.

Donella closes the journal with a snap, leaning back in her chair. “What a curious question. And from you, no less.”

When Hugo turns around, she’s smiling that sharp smile-the one that makes his stomach plummet with discomfort. Something in him churns at that dangerous expression now, unsure of what he’s suddenly gotten himself into.

He gives a casual shrug, raising his glass to his lips. “Just making idle conversation, I suppose.” The wine tastes terrible. Still, he takes another sip before setting it down on an end table.

“Hmm.” His mentor eyes him skeptically. “What do I think about soulmates?” she muses, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose the proper answer would be that I hate them.”

He frowns. “So you don’t believe in them?”

“You can’t hate something you don’t believe in, Hugo. Of course I believe in soulmates.” Donella must see the surprise in his expression because she laughs after a brief pause. “I would be hard pressed not to believe in them after seeing it with my own two eyes.”

Hugo blinks, startled. “You met someone with a soulmate?” he asks, disbelieving.

“You could say that.”

“How do-how did you know they were-”

She opens the stolen journal again, long scared fingers deftly flipping back to her reading place. “Because I could feel when she was in pain. Now shut up, Waif, I still have three quarters of this tedious reading to get through and only five more hours to do it.”

___

Even though Eugene has decided to make the conscious effort not to kill Hugo, the guy still shows mild animosity. And by mild, Hugo-of course-means that he drags him around, making him do tedious tasks and scowls whenever he gets close to Varian.

Whatever. It’s not as if Hugo’s going to complain, considering that it’s mostly his fault there was a demon monster briefly unleashed onto Corona that destroyed most of her capital city. As long as Varian isn’t blaming himself, Hugo calls it a win.

So he lets the Prince Consort drag him around the city and put his alchemy to work.

“You don’t have to stay,” Hugo says, at one point, when it becomes apparent that even though Eugene has no idea how alchemy works , he was still going to hover. “I’m not going to cut and run.”

The man had snorted. “Yeah, I already figured that one out for myself,” he’d muttered and then proceeded to not explain what that meant.

So here Hugo is, with an ever present shadow, hovering like he’s a fucking five year old. Hugo honestly doesn’t see what Varian sees in the guy-or Queen Rapunzel for that matter. She looks at the ex-thief like he hung the moon and all the damn stars in the sky.

“It’s because they’re soulmates,” Eugene’s buddy-Lance, Hugo thinks-had said when he caught him staring.

Hugo had scoffed.

Now, bored and overheated after a long day’s work, Hugo watches Eugene frown over some blueprints in the Queen’s study. Hugo’s not exactly sure why he has to be present for this particular part of the renovation project, but he’s too tired to protest.

“Are you and the queen soulmates?” he hears himself asking.

Eugene lifts his head, eyes alight with surprise. He glances back down at the blueprints once, before leaving the table to join Hugo by the open doors leading to the balcony.

“Weird question, coming from you,” he snorts, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “But yes. We are.”

Hugo doesn’t know what to make of that. “How do you know?”

The older man hesitates, something like understanding dawning on the man’s face. A small smile crosses lips. “Have you ever met someone that no matter how many times you tried to walk away, you couldn’t?”

Hugo swallows.

“That’s how I know. Now,” he claps Hugo on the shoulder. “If you’ll stop messing around, I need your opinion on whether Yong’s demolition idea or Varian’s solvent solution is going to work best for the lower district’s avalanche problem.”

___

At the end of all things-or perhaps the beginning-Hugo finds Varian on a rooftop.

It’s not hard to find him, as when Varian is brooding, he likes to perch. It’s a habit that the alchemist has either picked up from spending most of his time in a castle with high roofs or perhaps it’s born of chasing his dumb racoon into precarious positions.

Either way, Hugo learns early into his friendship with the darkhaired boy, that when he’s being introspective, he likes to pick a high roof and perch like a fucking woodland creature.

So when Varian goes missing in the middle of Corona’s lantern festival, it takes precious few minutes to find him.

“You are so predictable,” Hugo says, dropping down next to him. Heights don’t usually bother him, but the castle is impressively tall.

The other alchemist doesn’t really seem to mind, however. He lets his legs dangle over the edge, occasionally swinging in the air.

“Or maybe I wanted you to find me,” Varian replies easily. His head--tilted up, toward the stars that are mirrored in the constellations of freckles on his face-is wearing a peaceful expression.

Something in Hugo’s chest clenches tightly at the sight of it. There was a time, not too long ago, where he was convinced he’d never see Varian happy again.

But now, Varian turns his face toward Hugo and offers him a smile. “Or maybe I’m just predictable to you.”

The tightness in Hugo’s chest dissipates. What is left aches for something he can’t have.

“Or that,” Hugo says, instead of doing something stupid like trying to hold Varian’s hand or kiss the stupid expression off his face.

Varian turns back to the stars.

“You know, they say shooting stars fall in the direction of your soulmate.”

Hugo rolls his eyes. “Not you too,” he groans, eliciting laughter from his friend. “I thought out of everyone, you would be on my side here.”

“Aw, don’t believe in soulmates?” Varian teases, grinning boyishly. “Sun and moon, I should have expected that.”

“Yeah?” Hugo raises his eyebrows. “How so?”

“You’re so cynical. And not in the way Cass is-she’s like realistically -cynical. You’re just oh poor me I could never have a soulmate because my soul is made of garbage -”

Hugo clamps a hand over Varian’s mouth, shrieking when he tries to lick him. “I- stop -I don’t have to listen to this slander -”

“-and if you ever did find your soulmate you would be insufferable about it,” Varian goes on, catching Hugo’s wrist when he tries to silence him again. “You would spend the entire time trying to prove to yourself and everyone else that there was no possible way they could be your soulmate and when you couldn’t you would-”

He stops. Blinks at Hugo with realization dawning across his face.

Hugo’s wonders if Varian can feel his pulse racing where the smaller boy’s fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Yeah? What would I do?”

Varian’s lips purse. “I don’t know what you would do. I’d hope you would be smart about it.”

He lets go of Hugo.

Hugo immediately misses his warmth.

“And what would be the smart thing.”

“Well,” Varian draws out the word thoughtfully. He scoots close enough to Hugo that if the taller boy wanted he could wrap and arm around his shoulder. “Well, an excellent start would be telling them.”

“And how would you tell them? If it were you,” Hugo adds quickly, when Varian shoots him a questioning look.

Varian leans back on his hands, head tipped back, exposing his throat to the sky. “I would tell them my heart started beating at the same time as theirs when we touched. That there’s a silver dagger inked on my shoulder that burns when they’re angry and sings when they’re sad-”

“Varian.” Hugo’s heart clenches so hard he briefly wonders if he’s having a heart attack.

“-I would tell them that I dreamed in color the first night we lay side by side in the forest,” Varian goes on, ignoring him. “I would tell them that when we touch I see every color-even the ones that don’t belong here.”

“Varian.”

Hugo’s hand finds his soulmate's.

Varian turns his head to the side slightly, finally meeting Hugo’s eye. With his free hand, he cups the side of Hugo’s neck, tentatively.

“I would tell him that our souls are made of the same thing.” He smiles gently. “It’s just science, Hugo.”

Hugo laughs, pressing his forehead into Varian’s. “How is that the most romantic thing you’ve said yet?”

“Because you’re a closet nerd,” Varian says, right before he leans in.

Underneath a starlit sky, Hugo kisses the boy made of the same stuff as him.

___

[chocoholicannanymous]

Concepts of Insanity (Glee)

AN: No proofreading whatsoever. Subject to rewrite if I change my mind about it. Take it or leave it.

Concepts of Insanity

“Kurt? Oh, there you are, good. We have an emergency!”

Kurt smiles a little as he finishes up rearranging the flowers. He adores Isabelle, he really does, but she's a bit...excitable. There's always an emergency, or a disaster, or a catastrophe. So far today there's been four, unless he's miscounting; a lose hem, a missing delivery of non-alcoholic champagne, Isabelle almost fainting from forgetting to eat, and the flowers he's currently fixing not being enough something or other. He's actually kind of curious what it is this time.

He gives the flowers a last look, nods with satisfaction and turns around. The smile on his lips dies the second he meets Isabelle's eyes. This isn't a normal emergency.

“What's wrong?”

“The musicians are here, only the vocalist is currently throwing up to the point where they've called an ambulance.”

Kurt winces. That doesn't sound good for whoever it is. Also it really doesn't sound good for them. Isabelle had gone out on a limb with the small ensemble she'd hired for the event, deciding to make the music more than a background by having some songs performed with vocals. To have the vocalist missing would throw off the setlist. Maybe not enough for most people to notice, but at an event like this? Someone would definitely notice.

Especially since word seemed to have spread.

“I've spent the last ten minutes on the phone, and there's not a single vocalist to be had. This is so bad, Kurt! I'm never going to hear the end of this.”

Kurt hesitates, uncomfortable with voicing his possible solution, but deciding to offer it up anyway. It's Isabelle.

(Plus Rachel will never forgive him if he doesn't and she finds out.)

“I know it's not what you were aiming at, but my roommate is a NYADA student, and I know that most of the songs you picked out is in her wheelhouse. I could call her? If she answers she could hop in a cab and be here in 30 minutes.”

Isabelle looks a bit hesitant, but nods.

“Please do. I'll pay for the cab too, obviously. Check back with me in 5 minutes?”

Kurt agrees and hurries out to a silent space, phone in hand already dialing as he walks. There's no response for his first call, and Kurt leaves a hurried voice mail for Rachel to call him asap as it's an emergency. He then sends the same message as a text before trying to call again. He manages to squeeze in a total of five calls before he has to return to Isabelle, without response.

Maybe Rachel's in the shower again. Or singing. Or on a date with Brody.

“I'm sorry, Isabelle. I couldn't get hold of her.”

“Never mind, I have an idea. Can you do it?”

Kurt stares at her, not quite believing he heard her right.

“Me?” She nods and he shakes his head. “Isabelle, you've never even heard me sing!”

“True. But honey, I know how good you are with fashion. For you to chose music over that you have to be either insanely talented or just insane. So, will you do it?”

Kurt wants to shake his head again. What she's suggesting is crazy. Yes, Kurt can sing, but... His focus on music is more and more looking like insanity. He's just gotten rejected by Carmen Tibideaux a second time, for crying out loud. “Devoid of complexity and depth” echoes through his skull.

Except. This is Isabelle asking. His fairy godmother of sorts. He owes her.

“Are you sure? I'll do it, if you really want, but I'm not going to be anywhere as good as whoever you'd hired,” or Rachel for that matter, “and I don't want to ruin this for you.”

“You are going to be amazing. Thank you, Kurt, you're a lifesaver!”

And with that Isabelle floats off, leaving Kurt in a dazed state. He's going to panic, sooner or later, but for now he's still too stunned for it.

Right. His first action has to be to talk to the ensemble. The plan was to have the vocalist on three sets of three songs throughout the evening, but he's not entirely clear on what numbers had finally been picked. He will probably need to review lyrics up until the guests arrive, provided he can actually manage all of them. He's got a good range, yes, but that's not everything.

Oh, and he should swing by Isabelle's office and nab the blue west he'd spotted earlier – he'd dressed to fade against the wallpaper, not to be seen.

The first set goes well, as does the second. By the third and final he's lost enough of his nerves to let Isabelle drag him out on the floor instead of going off to hide as he'd initially planned. Several people drop by to talk, and he gets more than a few compliments. Maybe it's more about looking good to Isabelle than about actually liking it, but Kurt will take it anyway.

“So, you must be not just a talented singer but talented in fashion too for Isabelle to have taken you under her wing. Do you study fashion or music?”

The woman, Nadia something, asking sounds genuine and so Kurt gives her a small smile and answers as pleasantly as he can.

“Neither actually. I'm applying to NYADA though.”

There's a flash of something in her face, but Kurt can't quite make out what it is.

“For the spring semester? Ah.” She hesitates, sends a look towards where Isabelle is talking animatedly about something, and then looks at Kurt again.

“Can I be honest? Carmen Tibideaux is a very talented woman, in everything she does, and she's got an eye for picking out talent. However, she's also got a bit of a reputation.

“She loves to discover new talent that others overlook. Except every now and again she'll go about it in a rather underhanded way. She'll have someone audition, someone talented but a little raw around the edges. Someone with a ton of talent but a weak resumé, often with a little less self-esteem than most performers. She'll praise them and then turn them down. Most of the time they'll come back, looking for a second chance – she said they were great, right? Surely that means they'll get the part sooner or later, if they just approach it right.”

Kurt swallows. It sounds a little too familiar for comfort.

“Sometimes she'll turn them down both a second and third time, and then she'll put them on the spot, giving them another chance as long as they step out of their comfort zone and perform to her standards. And then she'll take them, and she'll own them. They'll go through their whole careers claiming they owe it all to her.”

She looks Kurt in the eyes, sincerity radiating out of her – but Kurt knows how little that means, in these circles – and a kind expression on her face.

“I'm not saying that's you, but for you to be applying to the spring semester, with your level of talent... If she's doing it to you, you should know you're not the first, and I doubt you'd be the last.

“Any school would be well served to have you as a student, I think. I already know you're talented, and as I know Isabelle I also know you have to be hardworking. Plus, seeing as that ensemble always works with a female vocalist I'm assuming something happened to have you step in at the last minute, meaning you stand up to pressure.

“NYADA is not the only school in New York for a young man like you, and I'd argue that it's not the best either. Think about what I've said, will you? And thank you again for a very enjoyable performance.”

It's only years of pretending in the face of bullies and a worried father that allows Kurt to pull of a believable goodbye and graceful exit. After this he's definitely hiding in Isabelle's office, damn it.

When Kurt comes back to the loft it's late and he wants nothing more to fall into bed, nighttime routines be damned. But Rachel's sitting on the couch, waiting for him judging from the expectant look on her face.

“I tried to call you.” It comes out a little flat, but Kurt doesn't have the energy to pretend. He needed her, called an emergency damn it, and she hasn't even texted him back in the six hours since his frantic calling.

“I heard, but I was busy practicing my number for tomorrow.” She doesn't even look sorry.

“Oh? I thought you said you didn't have any assignments for tomorrow.” That was why he'd felt safe calling her, after all.

She just waves a hand, clearly not too bothered.

“Nothing official, no, but that's no reason not to be ready to perform. I'm sure there will be an opening for me to dazzle my classmates.” And she goes on to describe the songs she's considered, and who's done them, and why her version is better, and Kurt just...tunes her out.

She hasn't even asked what he wanted. It's as if the thought hasn't even passed her mind. Well. If she's not interested then he's not going to waste his time telling her – especially not since she's bound to get upset over losing an opportunity to perform for an actual audience. He's also not going to waste his time listening to her go on about what she'd done instead of checking in on him.

“I'm going to bed.”

“Kurt! I need your input on this, surely bed can wait a bit?” When he shakes his head  her face hardens. “Fine, be that way. NYADA is hard, you know. It takes dedication. Maybe if you showed a little more of that you would have gotten accepted.”

Kurt shoves down the desire to slap her and bites out a “goodnight” before stalking off to bed. He can't believe she went there. Oh wait, he can. It's so Rachel, to just look at herself and ignore everything else. Show more dedication? Devoid of complexity and depth. Fuck her. Fuck them both.

Kurt had knocked his audition out of the park. Rachel and madam Tibideaux both had admitted that. Meanwhile Rachel had choked. Yet he'd been rejected while Rachel fucking Berry swanned around NYADA claiming to be dedicated. She never should have gotten accepted based on her audition. And somehow he just knows that there's no way she'd admit that Kurt should have been given that spot, not her.

As for madam Tibideaux and her “I rarely give anyone a second chance and if I do it's on my terms”... Bah! Rachel had harassed her way into her second chance. Hell, she'd recruited several others to also harass the madam on her behalf.

But somehow Kurt reapplying was the foul thing here. Right.

Maybe it was time he looked at options other than NYADA. That woman at the vogue event, she'd said that other schools might be a better fit for him. She'd sounded like she knew what she was talking about. Unlike Kurt, honestly, who'd pinned his hopes on NYADA based on Rachel. Hindsight has him questioning if he'd been slipped something, because leaving his college education up to whatever Rachel wanted? Insanity.

Well. Insanity is doing the same thing over again and expecting a different result, right? Clearly it's time to change his approach.

O--o---o--O

A week later Rachel comes home from the NYADA Winter Showcase bubbling about her success and how she's taken them all by storm. She makes a snide comment or two about how Kurt should have been able to see it for himself, had he taken the ticket she'd gone through so much trouble to acquire for him instead of doing whatever (it's called work), and Kurt just nods. He doesn't really care, but. He has to at least pretend to listen to preserve peace in the loft.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Madam Tibideaux asked after you.”

Kurt stills like a dog scenting prey. This he wants to hear.

“Oh?”

“Yes, apparently she was considering giving you another chance at applying. I don't know why she had to do it tonight, as it's for NYADA students and you're not, but she did. You should probably contact her. If you apologize properly she might still be open to it.”

Rachel looks at him, waiting for a reaction and clearly not pleased with what she's seeing.

“Well?”

“I'll think about it, Rachel. Calm down.”

And he will. Only he's not too eager to apologize to madam Tibideaux, or give her another chance to toy with him and probably reject him (he didn't show up for what she had planned, after all). It all sounds very much like what Nadia described at the vogue event. He listened. He might not have liked what he heard, or wanted to believe it, but he listened. In more than one way.

Over the past seven days he's written half a dozen applications to various music schools in New York, and sent them out. His current favorite is the New School, where a tour of the campus has given him a very good vibe. He'd be happy there, he thinks, and they might be happy with him. At least that's his take from meeting a couple of faculty members, one of the more prestigious of which just so happens to be Nadia.

Who would have guessed that doing a favor for Isabelle would lead to this? He might just owe her even more by now. Fairy godmother indeed.

~ The End ~

[speechlessxx]

I Can Keep A Secret. - 4 (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter Summary: In a jealous rage, Steve accidentally says something he doesn’t mean as he discovers something personal about the reader. 

Warnings: no Clark in this chapter, slight fingering (18+ Minors DNI), nudity but not really, lots of cussing, angsty, make-out scene, shitty writing (it’s been a while i’m sorry!), AGE GAP (reader is stated to be 21 but age is just a number. call her wtv age you want). 

Word Count: ~2.7k 

again... i apologize this sucks. i haven’t written anything since like august. 

Buy me a Ko-Fi (not necessary but i’m broke, yo) 

<- Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

Steve never considered himself a jealous man. When he was involved with Sharon Carter, he never paid any mind to the revolving door of “friends” she entertained. Truthfully, throughout the numerous relationships he’s had in his life, Steve Rogers had never been the one to be jealous.

How could he?

Steve didn’t think he was an egomaniac nor narcissistic – not in the way that Tony Stark was, at least. But he knew he was charming. He knew he was wealthy – the black cards in his Burberry wallet reminded him of that. He knew he was handsome. He knew his worth – hell, even Forbes did.

His thoughts had never been infiltrated by the ugly, green rage monster that filled his head with insecurities. That is… Until the headlines and photographs of (Y/N) Barnes’s dinner date with “America’s richest and handsomest” bachelor, Clark Kent, had made its rounds.

It was a form of self-torture as he scrolled furiously through the many posts about the two.

Dynasties Colliding!

Clark Kent off the Market?

Everything you need to know about (Y/N) Barnes, Clark Kent’s new girlfriend.

He clicked his tongue in disgust at that last article as he skimmed through it. It was obvious that the writer had a biased opinion – one so clearly against (Y/N) – as it pointed out her “college dropout” status and her “naivete” to be involved with a man ten years her senior.

He scoffed… If only they knew.

Though, Steve couldn’t help but compare himself to the younger man. Sure, Clark was richer than he was with a booming business and a company created generations before Steve was even born. His net worth pushed him much higher than Steve and Bucky on the Forbes’s listings. But surely, he didn’t have the same chemistry as he and (Y/N) did… Surely.

As if to mock him, a photo of Clark kissing her knuckles appeared on his monitor. He glared at it, fuming with hot jealousy. He hated that feeling bubbling inside as he stared at her flustered face digitally immortalized by paparazzi and fan photos.

His phone buzzed to life as the screen displayed her name… And he did what he had been doing for the past few days following the polo match, he sent it straight to voicemail, spiteful that she even entertained Clark’s request to go on a date.

Had he misread the signs? Had there been any signs to begin with? Had she played him? Was he just her happy distraction until she could find her bearings in New York?

A sharp knock interrupted him from his thoughts as Bucky’s broad shoulders filled his open office door. He had a wide smile on his face as he entered the room, closing the door.

“You read the gossip?” Bucky chuckled. A sly smirk on his face as he sat himself in the seat across Steve’s desk. Steve quickly clicked out of his tabs and raised his brows at Bucky. “With (Y/N) getting Clark interested, other investors are looking at us, too. It’s great.”

“So, you’re really using your daughter to lure business opportunities?” Steve snorted. Considering how enchanting she was, it wasn’t a terrible strategy. If Steve hadn’t gotten so attached so quickly, he’d even advise Bucky to have her stalk the airport terminals, too.

“It’s working, man. He’s interested in the company. He wants a tour. He’s talking big money. We can scrap any deals with Stark. He’s our top priority now.”

“Buck,” Steve laughed so dryly it became a scoff. “He’s not interested in the company. He’s clearly interested in her – and only her. As soon as you give the green light and she rips the cord with him, he’s gonna back out. He’s got the lawyers to make sure that any contract he signs will get voided, too.”

His tone had been hopeful although Bucky didn’t pick up on it. Bucky had just waved it off as Steve being cautious – not Steve hoping that his daughter would dump Clark and focus all her attention back on him.

“No, no.” Bucky shook his head, waving his hand, too. “She’s equally into him. Piqued her interest more than Peter did, for sure.” Steve stopped himself from rolling his eyes, knowing damn well that she was never interested in the Stark boy. “He dropped her off and she was blushing like crazy. Ran to her room and practically screamed her head off with that Wanda girl on the phone.”

Steve pressed his lips into a straight line. He didn’t trust himself enough to respond, knowing any sarcastic remark would land him in the hot seat, with Bucky asking questions he wasn’t ready to answer… or rather, didn’t have the answers to.

“Besides… y’know one contract that’s incredibly difficult to get out of?” Steve hummed. “A marriage.”

Steve choked. “Marriage? Buck, c’mon, she’s twenty-one.” Bucky nodded, taking his daughter’s age into consideration. “Marriages are definitely the easiest to get out of. Must I remind you the reason why you haven’t seen her since she was a baby?”

“Hey!”

“Besides, isn’t he too old for her?” Steve internally cringed. Suddenly, wishing he could take it back, afraid of what Bucky would say. Like you aren’t thirty-nine, dumbass?

“He’s thirty-three. She’s twenty-one. She can date whoever she wants. She’s an adult.”

“That’s dangerously permissive.” Stop talking.

“Why’re you acting like her father, Steve?” Bucky asked, raising his brows inquisitively.

“I’m just saying, Clark’s closer in age with us than with (Y/N).” Steve shrugged. “I’m just looking out for her.”

I just want her to myself.

“Well, since you’re oh-so invested in looking out for her, I’m gonna need a favor.”

»————-　♡　————-««

Out of the many things to do on a Friday night in the big city, Steve found himself walking through the threshold of the Barnes’s penthouse. He silent cursed at Bucky, who asked him to look after his daughter for the weekend. The same daughter he had been avoiding for the past week, blowing off her calls and leaving her texts unread.

Steve found Bucky’s favor to be a direct contradiction to the statement he made prior. She’s twenty-one. She’s an adult. An adult who needed another adult’s supervision as it seemed.

However, Steve understood. She was relatively new to the city, only being here for a little over a month and a half, and known for her reckless behavior back in Los Angeles – the reason why she was in New York to begin with. Although Bucky didn’t quite keep her on a tight leash, he kept on a leash, nevertheless.

Bucky had already left that afternoon, leaving the penthouse somewhat quiet save for the music coming from the hallway that led into (Y/N)’s bedroom. He cracked a smile as he approached the hall. He could hear her obnoxiously singing along to the provocative lyrics of that one song – WAP, was it?

His hand absentmindedly found its way to her doorknob, twisting the metal and pushing the door open. She shrieked as her phone fell from her hands with a thud against the floor. She scrambled for her towel that lay haphazardly on her bed, messily wrapping it around her naked body.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” She screamed over the music. 

Steve stared at her with wide eyes like a deer in headlights. Her hair was still damp, knotting and begging to be combed out. Her chest heaved as she breathed heavily. The towel did little to hide her from his hungry eyes as he fought to keep his stare at her face and only her face. She called for the Alexa to stop playing the music before running a hand through her knotted hair. 

“Steve, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Your – your dad asked me to – uh – “he was losing the battle as his eyes gave her a look over, feeling the heat rise to his face. It was not the only thing that has risen. He tore his stare away from her, scanning the room instead. “He asked me to watch over you.” Steve explained, finally finding the words.

“Like a babysitter?” She scoffed. She had been itching to see Steve, hating him just a bit for ghosting her, but looking like that? She was willing to forgive.

“Yeah…” Steve nodded.

“Well,” she smirked playfully, “since you’re baby-sitting… Why don’t you let your baby sit on your lap, huh, daddy?” She batted her lashes at him, and he instantly melted, forgetting his jealousy and spite for just a second. She reached out for him and had him sit at the edge of her bed, straddling his thick thighs. “Excited to see me?”

His resolve and pent-up angst disappeared. “You’re damn right.” Steve muttered, hand fisting her knotted hair and smashing his lips onto hers. The kiss was every bit hungry and desperate as it was passionate – like two star crossed lovers finally catching a moment alone.

She moaned into his mouth as his free hand slipped beneath her towel, which was loosening as she grinded against his strained pants. His fingers explored her slit, fumbling as he tried to find her bundle of nerves.

“I missed you,” she gasped as he found it within seconds, rubbing tight circles around her clit.

His lips left a trail of kisses along her jaw and sucked the sensitive skin under her ear, eliciting long moan from her as he played with her, relishing in her responsiveness. He felt her juices coat his fingers as he teased her hole, but the moment suddenly cut short when her phone dinged.

Once. And then a second, then a third.

She looked over her shoulder and glanced down at the screen. Steve pinched her, causing her to gasp again. “Don’t.” He warned her, his voice a deep growl.

It dinged again. “I’m gonna silent it,” she promised, pecking his lips as she hopped off his lap. “Oh,” she frowned. She ran a hand through her knotted hair before glancing at him, then typing.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked her as he stood from her bed and walked over to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist as he pulled her into him.

“I… Uh… Clark wants to hang out again.” She told him.

Steve rolled his eyes though she didn’t see. “Blow him off.” He told her, leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulders, leading back up to that sweet spot beneath her ear. Her eyes rolled back before she pushed away from him. “We haven’t seen each other in days – “

“Because someone kept sending me to voicemail,” she rebutted. “I-I have to go see him, Steve. If my dad found out – “

“Then tell him you’re not into him.” Steve insisted. She remained silent as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Steve frowned. “Wait, are you – are you into him?”

“I dunno…”

“You don’t know?” He asked her. “If you’re into him, the hell are you sitting on top of me naked for?”

“Steve – “

“God, it’s like you like making yourself easy to guys.” The envy – the green, little monster that tore at his ego and his heart – suddenly rose. No thoughts were running through his head – just angry words from his mouth.

“Excuse me?” An enraged look splayed across her face. Brows furrowed and arms crossed defensively.

“Well, considering you sold pictures of yourself to total strangers – “he stopped himself before the rest of the sentence. The self-control had finally resurfaced, but the damage had been done as fury in her features mellowed and turned into hurt.

“Is that… Is that what you think of me?” She asked him, willing her voice not to crack but the tears had already begun to form. She furiously blinked them away before huffing. “Well, it doesn’t matter what you think anyway ‘cause I’m not with you.”

“And what you’re with Clark Kent?” He seethed his name.

“At least he doesn’t call me easy.”

Steve chuckled, dryly. “Bar’s set low then, huh? Says the girl who sucked me off on the airplane when we knew each other less than two hours. Wonder the things you’d do for him.” It was spite. His words were pure spite and jealousy. They held no meaning but they sure had weight. 

“What’s your problem?” She snapped. “Damn it, Steve! I like you. I really do, genuinely, but y’know it fucking sucks when the guy you like suddenly ghosts you.”

“And it fucking sucks when the girl you’re actually interested in goes on a date with some hot shot, pretty, rich boy. Probably fucks him in the back of his limo, too.”

She stomped over to Steve, shoving him with one hand while the other kept her towel from slipping off. “Get. Out!”

“No, no,” Steve argued, grabbing her arm easily overpowering her to stop pushing him. “You’re gonna answer.” She raised her brows at him. “Are you fucking him in the back of his limo? Are you that easy?”

Her jaw dropped as she stared at him in disbelief. “You’re not my dad, so that’s none of your concern.” She began to push him towards her door, and he let her this time. “And…” Her fingers tapped against the wooden door as she stared back at him. 

“It’s none of your business, but for your information, I’m a virgin.” She clicked her tongue as a smirk splayed across her face. “Won’t be for long, though. ‘Cause Mr. Kent is inviting back to one of his many lavish, expensive homes in New York.”

And with that she slammed the door shut, locking it with the new lock her father had installed.

»————-　♡　————-««

“(Y/N)…” He called out to her, knocking on her door. “C’mon, sweetheart.” It had been half an hour since their fight, and she had yet to come out of her room.

“Go away!” She called out from the other side of the wooden pane as if she were a child.

“I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean it. I was just jealous – “

“I don’t care, Steve!”

He sighed. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go out for dinner, yeah? Just me and you. Whatever you want. You wanna embarrass me by making me use chopsticks? Let’s go. You wanna hit me with a bottle of champagne? Take your pick. I’m down.”

“Fuck off, asshole!”

You deserve that. He agreed.

Steve suddenly heard a click of the lock before she pulled the door open, pushing past him and he let her. She had a duffle in one hand and her phone in the other, typing away. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you,” she spat. She didn’t even spare him a second look.

“You going with Clark?”

“None of your business, dick.”

He called her full name and she stopped in her tracks, spinning on her heel to look at him with her brows raised. Steve had his hands on his hips as he stared at the floor before looking down at her. “You are not leaving and that’s final.”

“Oh, yeah?” She challenged, taking a step towards him. Her heel clicking against the ground. She crossed her arms across her chest as she tilted her head. “And what? You’re gonna stop me?”

“Don’t make me, sweetheart.”

“Well,” she smirked. “Take it up with my dad… because unlike you, he actually approves of my blossoming relationship with Clark Kent. I swear he’s already planning the wedding … while I, on the other hand, all I care about is the honeymoon… And I think we’re gonna get a head start to it, actually.”

Steve took a step towards her as she took a step back. “Stop being a little brat and just – “

“No, Steve,” she corrected. “I’m being easy. And you’re completely right… Sometimes being easy is just fun.”

He grabbed her arm before she could turn around and pulled her towards him. She bit her lip as she stared up at him with faux innocence. Her lips glistened with whatever gloss it was she used to make her lips plump as she challenged every bit of authority Steve had.

He wanted nothing more than to kiss that bratty attitude right out of her. He leaned in as her eyes fluttered close and he knew he had her. Then, suddenly, the elevator doors dinged and opened, ruining the moment. Both their heads snapped towards the guest.

“What the hell?” 

[100hearteyes]

Part 2 of Clarke And Lexa Make a Porno, because why the fuck not.

Part 1.

"No. Absolutely not."

Anya's wolfish grin is no good omen. Lexa feels a sense of dread wash over her and tries in vain to assuage her nerves by holding her friend's gaze. Anya wouldn't look this sure if she didn't have some card up her sleeve.

Lexa throws a furtive glance around, checks that her co-workers are still focused on the German porn telenovela. It's only when she's sure that the action on-screen will keep them rooted for a while that she turns back to Anya, trying but failing to meet her eyes.

She overcompensates with another glance around the room and a low hiss. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but am I not too," she licks her lips, gathering the courage, "'vanilla' to do it?"

Anya shrugs like it's a no-brainer; crosses her arms and props her booted feet on Lexa's desk. "That's exactly the point. You're a lesbian Disney princess. Pretty sure if you started singing the whole fucking fauna of Capitola would follow you around."

Lexa levels Anya with a glare and tries to push her feet off the desk, to no avail.

(Seriously, what's it worth being editor if she can't even have her subjects' respect? She wishes this job was less about the headaches and more about the self-indulgent moments of microscopic tyranny.)

The feet might not budge, but Anya will. Lexa is sure of it. She draws herself taller and tucks on her most authoritative scowl. "I won't do it."

Anya plucks an imaginary cigarette from her mouth and throws it away without a care in the world. She reaches behind her and drags forth a heavy wooden box, filled to the brim with—

"My vinyls."

Lexa is in a daze.

She thought she'd lost all her vinyls to time and moving. She mourned each one of them for at least a year, cried many a night away clutching her record player to dear life, lamenting their shared loss.

They had a real connection.

But it turns out her vinyls weren't lost after all, and her tears were for naught. They were safe all along, albeit in different hands, and she'd known nothing of it, like a mother who lets her children wander about without aim nor authority.

How can she ever have kids if she can't even take care of her prized vinyls?

Lexa feels a prick of self-righteous indignation at the betrayal and puffs out her chest. "Why do you have all my vinyls?"

"I think you mean all my vinyls," Anya corrects with a lazy flurry of one hand towards the box.

"You don't even own a record player."

"How the fuck would you know?"

Lexa raises an eyebrow at her friend. "I come over all the time?"

"I could hide it while you're there."

"And then you'd never find it again, because that's what happens every time you try to hide something from me."

Anya shrugs and watches as Lexa picks one of the vinyls and turns it over in her hands, reading the track list on the back with the reverence one would a millennium-old parchment. Then she looks up at Anya with a stern glare.

"Over half of these were stolen from my house."

Anya shrugs again with infuriating nonchalance and Lexa wishes she had a pencil nearby just so she could snap it in two with one hand. Or stab one of Anya's eyes with it.

"Maybe I just rescued them from the actual malefactor," drawls Anya.

"We both know the real culprit sits across from me and has been wearing the same socks for the past three weeks."

Nailed it.

When she looks at her friend, however, all she sees is that same old resting bitch face that never seems to go away.

"Wow, Lexa," Anya deadpans. "Now you've really hurt my feelings."

Sometimes, Lexa wonders if Anya really has a rock where her heart should be. A supernatural, blood-pumping rock, of course, but a rock nonetheless. Or, maybe, Anya is a psychopath. Maybe the blood money theory wasn't so far-fetched after all. That would explain the brazen lack of empathy for everyone else's feelings, most of all Lexa's. What does it say about Lexa that her one true friend is someone who sneezes literally every time Lexa says 'I love you'?

Not that Lexa says it a lot. Only once or twice every few years.

Just enough to have noticed the pattern.

"Are you really trying to blackmail me with vinyls?"

Anya fakes an affronted gasp, laying a hand on her heart. "Would I ever. Think of it as... an incentive."

Lexa really does love Anya, despite her friend's... unique demeanor. Anya helps her come out of her shell — by taking up all the space and forcing her out of her own metaphorical home — and every once in a while she likes to make sure Anya is aware of her gratitude. Sometimes, though, things get really fucking weird.

Lexa would still do anything for her best friend.

"Let's imagine, hypothetically - very hypothetically," she stresses, although Anya's burgeoning smirk tells Lexa she isn't so easily fooled, "that I agreed. What would happen next?"

Anya takes her feet off Lexa's desk and sits up straighter, perhaps aware of the importance of this moment. This, Lexa decides, will determine her answer.

"Well first, I'd have to get you a costar. Then we'd sign some legally binding shit, find a crew, and make the damn movie. Simple as that."

Anya leans forward, looking into her eyes. In Anya's, she sees honesty and a pressing need to reassure. It takes some of the pressure off her shoulders right away.

"Look, Lexa, you can say no. But your name won't be on anything related to the movie and I promise no one in this shitty town will ever find out you did this."

This is why Anya is Lexa's best friend. And it's why Lexa would do anything for her.

Even star in a porno.

"Okay."

Anya's inner smile must be really, really big, because Lexa knows how hard she tries to tamper its outward expression — and still her lips manage to lift into a grotesque grimace. Coming from Anya, it's the equivalent of a blissful grin.

"Okay?"

Lexa nods and closes her eyes, bracing herself for a bone-crushing hug. It never comes. When she opens her eyes, Anya's resting bitch face is back on.

"What, did you want a fucking hug?"

It's a blessing to have her rude friend back, Lexa guesses, because seeing Anya almost smile is fifty shades of unsettling. So she rolls her eyes and rolls with it.

Her next question demands her full focus, lest she makes an even bigger fool of herself than usual.

Lexa breathes in, makes sure all her co-workers are still otherwise entertained, breathes out. Smooths out a non-existent wrinkle in her pants, wets her lips for courage.

"Anyway," she treads with caution, "do you have someone in mind for the other main role?"

It's fitting that Harper McIntyre's hit song One More Betyreyal (one of her less inspired titles, if Lexa may say so) starts playing in that moment, for the look in Anya's eyes speaks of nothing but danger. Lexa wonders how much planning went into this conversation, so Anya could plan all her gut punches in advance.

"Clarke Griffin."

No. No. Anyone but her.

Clarke Griffin is the new recruit, although Lexa hardly understands how there can be someone new considering the station is broke and they’re already overstaffed — and none of them make nearly enough money for how much they laze around all day.

Clarke came from out of town with a fancy degree and was directly hired as an editor. She voices the early afternoon newscasts and Lexa curses the one-hour period during which she's forced to cohabitate with Clarke every day.

Apparently, Clarke had taken a liking to unnerving her, be it by smirking at her every time she catches Lexa staring or by making all sorts of inappropriate comments — to her ear. Lexa hates how much it affects her, but how can she possibly focus on reporting about Lionel "Real Sight" Foster swallowing his own wooden eye or how Jasper Jordan rescued his own private parts from the jaws of two slats of an unassuming park bench if someone keeps doing everything in their power to distract her?

Lexa has a theory (an iron-clad theory, if she may say so herself), and it's that Clarke is trying to get her fired so she can take her shift. It's the best shift of the day. There is no other possible explanation.

"You know what, I take it back. Now you need to convince two people to star in your porno."

"Oh, there's no need." Anya waves her argument away with staggering nonchalance. "Clarke's already said yes."

Wait, what? "But you told me we'd need to get me a costar."

Anya shrugs and Lexa is now seriously considering revisiting her psychopath theory. "I lied."

"You conniving, lying b—"

"Careful," Anya cuts in with a raised eyebrow. "I am under protection of the Capitola Astrologers Union."

"Of which you are president, treasurer, and the only legal member," Lexa reminds her. "And I think any upstanding judge would love to know how exactly every other name on the list has joined said union posthumously."

"I am an astrologer, Lexa. I can communicate with the dead. It's in my job description."

"It scares me that you're not even aware you're describing an entirely different profession."

Lexa sits back, staring at the ceiling (and the chewing gum Murphy glued there a year ago — he could've been an Olympic jumper if he committed to work the way he does to being an asshole), trying to come to terms with a single, harrowing probability: she's going to star in a porno with Clarke Griffin.

"l don't understand why it has to be Clarke."

Anya leans forward, propping her elbows on her knees, expression serious and ready to talk shop. The last time Lexa saw her like this was— actually, Lexa doesn't think she's ever seen Anya like this.

"Look, I've done some market analysis and most girl on girl pairings are a blonde and a brunette." Anya raises both her hands and starts counting off fingers, "Brittana, Petramos, Holstein, Wayhaught, Supercorp, Joanarty, Choni, the inaptly named Shoni, Deanoru, Dana and Alice, Bette and Tina, Catradora, Villaneve, Clexa—"

"What's Clexa?"

"I don't know, some chicks from this fucking terrible CW show."

"Do you like it?"

"Do I like what?"

"Clexa."

"Dude, I don't even know their fucking names!" Anya exclaims, exasperated. As if she's the victim here. "The only Clexa I ship is you and Blondie. Naked. On my porno. Clarke and Lexa. Clexa. Havin' very hot sexa."

"Smart," Lexa deadpans.

"I know."

"Why can't it be Niylah? She's blonde, too."

Anya's smirk is five hundred shades of gross. "I know you'd love to get up close and personal with Niylah's knick-knacks, but no."

Lexa decides to let the comment fly for the sake of her own sanity.

"Why Clarke, though?"

"Because you two have chemistry, you fucking dimwit."

Lexa snorts. Chemistry. Lexa has never heard of something so absurd. She and Clarke have as much chemistry as Harper McIntyre and any semblance of originality.

Which is to say, none at all.

"She makes very inappropriate comments," she argues instead, knowing full well that pressing on the topic of chemistry will only open way for some trademark crass joke from Anya.

"Yeah," her friend agrees, like it's obvious. "Because she knows you love them."

She most certainly does not.

"I most certainly do not."

"You do. Your freakishly tiny ears go red whenever she flirts with you. Your step falters when she makes one of those comments, for fuck's sake," Anya observes, pointing in Lexa's general direction, before leaving forward and laying a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you, my friend, are a walking lesbian cliché."

Lexa takes Anya's hand off her shoulder. "Can you please stop insulting my tragically conspicuous homosexuality?"

"Oh please," Anya scoffs. "I'm bisexual, I can say whatever I want."

"If my step actually faltered - which they don't - it would be because her comments are annoying, off-putting, unprofessional, inopportune, and... and inappropriate", she finishes lamely.

"And you fucking love them."

"I don't."

Anya leans back on her chair with an evil smirk, propping her feet on the table and crossing them at the ankles. Lexa tries to push them off to no avail.

"Legalities aside, it's very simple. Clarke has already said yes. I just recorded you saying yes."

Lexa sputters, "You what--"

"You're both legally bound now." Anya shrugs. "Look at it this way: it will be very educational. You'll finally learn how to make a girl come, and get paid for it. Sort of."

A beat of silence.

"Anya, are you aware that you say something at least vaguely criminal every five sentences? Something that could actually put you in prison?"

Anya clicks her tongue, sinking farther into her chair, and lowers her sunglasses to her eyes.

"I've got friends everywhere, Lex. Let's just say I've dipped more than my fingers in my fair share of pies, if you catch my drift." A second later, she lowers her sunglasses just enough to reveal her eyes. "That means my tongue. My tongue's been in a lot of pies, too."

Lexa doesn't doubt that for a second.

"What I need to know is," Anya adds, taking off her sunglasses and throwing them across the room, "will you dip your fingers in the porn pie?"

Like this conversation hasn't caused enough trauma for thirty lifetimes.

"If I say no, will you still give me back my vinyls?"

"Absolutely fucking not."

Lexa swallows, clenches her jaw, and thinks of all those lonely nights spent in the couch clutching her record player and sharing cookie dough ice cream with it, longing for long-gone times when she'd dance to the mellow voices of the likes Billy Ocean and Ella Fitzgerald.

"My answer is yes."

[mistaeq]

The Jobros: Finding out their s/o is Pregnant with Twins

TW // none

Original Request: Can you do the jojo's reaction to their s/o being pregnant with twins after a long time of trying? You can find this here.

The sweet @serenityblaze44 asked for this same prompt with the Jobros, so... here it is! <3

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

ROBERT E. O. SPEEDWAGON

As soon as you tell him, his eyes widen, like a cat who saw his favourite toy. It's almost as if he was a kid, and you were telling him that Santa was gonna bring him his favourite gift ever. No wonder, he'll be speechless for some seconds. Not only one baby, but two? This sounds all the way like a dream becoming reality. Living in the street like he did years ago, he could only dream about having a family.

You've been trying so hard to have a baby, you both felt ready, and after all the danger he went through along with Jonathan, Robert wants to settle down and have a family, finally starting something serious. But you had a lot of problems with getting pregnant, and he was losing his hope. Until you told him you were expecting a baby. And now, you were telling him they were two, two angels of his growing in your stomach. This feels crazy.

Speedwagon won't force you and won't get angry, if you don't feel like you'd like something like this, but he'd love to name one of the twins Jonathan or William if there's at least a boy and Erina if there's at least a girl. These people mattered so much in his life, and would be the happiest if he could bring these names with him forever. If you don't like the idea, he will respectfully accept it, and he's open and ready to hear your own ideas, too!

He wants everything to be completely organized, when the twins will come to the world. Every parent buys furniture and clothing for their baby, even before the birth, it's a pretty common thing. But Robert more or less behaved like Joseph buying stuff for Shizuka with Josuke's money. Speedwagon almost bought an entire baby store out of happiness and excitement. He's enthusiast and nervous. Bear with this loving gentleman.

"What do you mean I don't have to buy six cribs for the babies? What their two ones break and we need to change it?" he groans, handing you a bag, you looking at him with questioning eyes. "Nevermind... y/n, will you hold these fifty pacifiers for me while I get the twenty pairs of baby shoes out of the car?"

Speedwagon can't keep the news to himself. He'll call Erina before everyone else, and then all his friends, like immediately, to tell them the good news. He looks calm and rational, but he spent most of his life in London's street, and few years won't erase his loud and impulsive attitude. It's probably a good thing, after all. Even gentlemen can be excited. A little sudden, but hearing it makes Erina so happy, she'll be like an aunt for your kids!

He would enjoy reading books to your stomach during your pregnancy. He would have done it even if they weren't twins, but he claims that being them two, he'll need to work twice the amount he did before to teach them stories and literature. Robert is an amazing man, but still a too grown baby, he'll never stop his ideas about how to teach the children something. He just thinks about what he'd like to do or hear if he was a child.

CAESAR ANTONIO ZEPPELI

He stops practicing with his hamon for some seconds as soon as you tell him. Funny, he was so focused on his training that he swore he started hearing things. You didn't just tell him that the baby bubble growing in your stomach are in reality two baby bubbles. He... oh, forget it Caesar, you must have dreamt it. But you're right next to him, and almost immediately repeat what you just told him, making him realize what he heard is true.

It takes a while for the italian boy to realize it, but when he finally does, you can tell he's happy. Mamma mia. The adrenaline and excitemente in his body won't stop flowing, this is why, when Caesar will hug you, pick you up and jump around, hamon bubbles will still be coming out of his fingertips, and you find it the cutest thing ever. It's the physical proof of how happy you make him, there's no way to deny it. Family is all he ever wanted, over his flirting habit. You're the right one for him and he knows.

Prepare your kids and your stomach to get a whole load of opera music during your pregnancy. Caesar is a great lover of opera, and will care about his kids to be as informed on it and respectful of the genre. Either he'll put on some of it, of he'll straight up sing it for you and your future children. His singing voice isn't actually so bad, you notice, and this is how he earns the task of singing them the lullabies when they'll come to the world.

"Hey! What do you mean I get to sing them the lullabies... I'm good at opera... not baby songs..." he whines, almost sounding like a baby himself. "Fine... but at one condition. You change the diapers and I sing the lullabies. Take it or leave it."

He cares a lot about his family's traditions to go on. Being the flamboyant italian he is, Caesar prides himself on the love for his close family and relatives. He doesn't have a huge request for you, but he cares about what he's gonna ask. The father-to-be would be happy, if one of the twins is a boy, to give him Antonio as a second name. Like his own second name, and his grandpa's too. He secretly hopes the twins are a boy and a girl, he's always wanted a baby princess.

The young Zeppeli will grow twice more protective and caring of you. This translates in him not letting Joseph get closer to you than three meters away. This is how you learn to speak even louder to talk with people. Your loving boy will always be in front of you to keep you safe. You appreciate it, but sometimes he's exaggerated.

He'll probably beg you on his knees, for you to allow him to teach the children how to master the hamon technique when they'll grow up. You can't really deny it, sometimes it's useful. During your pregnancy, Caesar and his calming waves helped you coping with pregnancy pains and cramps, massaging your belly and leaving some bubbles around to soothe and distract you. Oh, your caring italian love.

NORIAKI KAKYOIN

When you told him the good news, his heart exploded with happiness and excitement. However, Noriaki is known for being a pretty calm boy, and he tried his best to keep calm after your words, too. You had to tell him to let go and don't worry about wanting to hug you, or pick you up and kiss you, or even cry, if he felt like letting it all out.

Before you even got pregnant, Kakyoin and you had been trying every single way on Earth to have a baby. Take count of your most fertile phase, buy a lot of pregnancy tests, using different positions, praying, making rituals, crying and asking Siri, in tears, why Noriaki couldn't manage to get you pregnant. Did those ways work so well that you got twice more pregnant than you expected? Nevermind, all you know is that you and your loving cherry boy are gonna have two beautiful babies.

"Listen... why do you think I can't get my baby pregnant? We've been trying every single way... do you have any advice?" as soon as Siri answered, Kakyoin's eyes widened, and raised an eyebrow. "Hey, don't give me the 'Sorry, I'm not sure what you said' treatment!"

One of his first thoughts, is that there's a small - but now it's higher because the babies are two - percentage of chances your babies might be stand users. Yes, it's not the highest percentage ever, but it's still there, and Kakyoin is pretty afraid of it. Stand users' lives are never calm and quiet, he had the occasion to prove this himself. They often go towards almost deadly experiences. He's gotta be a good dad and protect his children.

Hierophant Green is overjoyed! Noriaki and his stand worked hard, to create some decorations for the babies' room with emeralds. Green is a neutral color, since you don't know whether the twins will be boys, girls, or both. Still, you don't think colors like pink and blue are gendered, that's some stereotypical bullshit. But you had the luck of having green decorations, perfect for anyone, from Hierophant's power.

Kakyoin secretly hopes that at least one of the babies, no matter whether it's a boy or a girl, will have his hair color or hair noodle. Think about it, wouldn't it be funny, cute and incredibly special to have a small version of your husband/boyfriend walking around the house? Oh god, what if they're identical twins? Three Noriakis? Oh my.

Even if this might embarrass him a little, you'll often get to see his parents during your pregnancy. First of all, to give them the good news about the baby being in reality two babies, and second of all because mrs. Kakyoin would be on cloud nine, getting the chance to give you some parenting advice. That's also how you get to know some interesting information and curiosities about your man's childhood. The cutest things ever. But this... is another story.

NIJIMURA OKUYASU

Okuyasu.exe has stopped working. What do you mean two babies? He thought the shocking news were finished, after the pregnancy announcement. He's gonna ask you a billion times, on the verge of tears, if you're joking or messing with him, knowing how much these news matter to his heart. When he gets you're serious, Okuyasu just lets go and cries. He feels so damn happy.

He learnt to hate your period as much as you, honestly. Because everytime you got it, it meant another month in which he had failed in getting you pregnant had passed, and this made him feel useless and disappointing. You never thought anything like this about him, but making him understand this is pretty difficult, he wouldn't have forgiven himself until he succeeded. You wanted a baby and Okuyasu wanted so too, so he would have given it to you, no matter what.

"Oi... did you... you know, bleed this month already?" Okuyasu asked, with the eyes of someone who was afraid of asking. But you shook your head. "This is good, love... but let's not get our hopes up, shall we, y/n?"

He doesn't really have any special requests or ideas for your babies' names. Or better, he does have one, but will never tell you, as he thinks for sure that you'll never agree with doing it. Okuyasu would have liked the kanji "兆" ("chou": trillion) to be in at least one of your babies' names, to remember his brother. But your boy is pretty sure you'd hate it, and he'd never suggest this. You'll probably feel there's something he's not telling you and find out anyway.

Expecting two babies is tiring, and you'll need to rest a lot. Okuyasu would like to join you and hold you in your sleep, but he also wants to be awake to take care of you, get you something to eat or drink, or put in order his messy house to make it look at least decent for when the babies will come. This is why, while you take your naps, he works around the house and lets The Hand cuddle with you. It's always him, after all. He feels the way you hold his stand.

This leads to the father-to-be being often pretty tired, too. He overworks himself. At night, when he finally joins you in your bed, happens to fall asleep in a matter of seconds, wearing his ordinary clothes instead of his pajamas. You can tell he's gonna be a good dad. Some mornings during your pregnancy, if you happened to wake up before him, you'd quietly turn off his alarm clock for him to rest more.

Okuyasu's dad is on cloud nine too, as his family is going to get larger. Mansaku totally wants to take a photo with you two and his grandchildren, as soon as they'll be born. He accepted you and behaves with you the same caring way he does towards his son. He's changed in a better man, despite his appearance. But the first person Okuyasu told the good news to, was Keicho. He purposely went on his grave, because he knew his brother would have been proud.

BRUNO BUCCIARATI

You tell him the good news while he's working. Not only it'll make his day better, but it'll also hopefully get his mind off of that giant bunch of papers on his desk, for once. The capo suddenly stops, moving his gaze towards your eyes, then your stomach, then your eyes again. You'll have to repeat, or he'll be sure he's imagined what you said because of the too much time spent working. But there's no joke or dream, you're pregnant with twins.

Screw all the papers and all the work that's left. He's gonna get you in a so tight and warm embrace of his, and never let go. Libeccio's for dinner that night? Guaranteed. He's usually a calm man, but whatever is related to his family, gets celebrated. When you announced your pregnancy, you had a dinner with the whole gang at the restaurant, but this time Bruno would rather have something more personal and private with you. Make the dinner romantic.

When you were still trying to have a baby, Bucciarati was the one who managed not to lost his temper when every attempt of yours resulted in a negative pregnancy test. But when you weren't around, I won't say he cried, but was pretty close. He was afraid of not being able to give you what you wanted, and usually ranted about this with Abbacchio. Bruno wanted to be the shoulder you could cry on, and couldn't breakdown too.

You both decided to wait some time before telling the gang about the baby being in reality two babies. They were still excited for your pregnancy itself, Mista and Narancia above everyone, and giving another shocking news would have probably brought the peace to say arrivederci. They still managed to get you confess, the look in Bruno's expressive eyes was too happy not to notice.

Just like Giorno would do, Bruno wouldn't be happy if his two angels ended up being involved in Passione's business. He totally will let the gang around his babies, as he trusts them, but during your pregnancy you both decided that the one of you taking care of the babies on a certain day, wouldn't even think of getting close to Passione's headquarters with the children. And you agreed with Bucciarati, for your little ones' safety.

"You'll agree with me that our children's safety is the most important thing, tesoro mio..." Bruno murmured, caressing your cheek. "Let's not bring them close to this place ever, I beg you. I'm sure you'll understand."

He would enjoy talking and interacting with his babies by laying his head on your stomach, kissing it and listening to them moving in the last weeks of your pregnancy. Sticky Fingers is in love with you too, and Bruno won't ever lose the chance to close you in a cuddle sandwich between his body and his stand's to make you feel protected and let you know how proud of you he is. Bucciarati will be a special dad, indeed.

[wtf-yoongi]

“Stay tonight.”

pairing | yoongi x reader

summary | a few months after your break up, yoongi stumbles upon you while you’re drunk

genre/warnings | fluff + what some people might consider a teeny tiny bit of angst + established relationship

words | 3,325

note | i’m so bad at requests. i read “yoongi stumbling upon her while she’s drunk” and had an idea… probably 100% different than what the anon had in mind but what can i do (full request at the end if you’re curious!)

There is something oddly familiar about the melody Yoongi hears. He stops mid-step with his car keys in hand to pay attention to it – brows furrowing in deep concentration, eyes lost in the middle of nowhere, jaw hanging slightly ajar as he focuses on the notes.

You see, there are a lot of things that can drive a musician crazy. One of them is knowing for sure you have listened to a melody before, but not being able to remember where it is from. Recognize it. Say its name and who sings it with precision.

In Yoongi’s defense, the origin of the sound isn’t the most accurate. It seems like someone is whistling to it, humming along at times, whispering a few words every now and then – making it hard to put the pieces together. That shouldn’t be an excuse, he knows it, and winces when he finds himself close to walking around the corner to ask the person what is the name of the song or else he won’t be able to sleep tonight.

That’s exactly when it clicks in his head. It’s that song.

Yoongi lets out an exasperated breath as he finally recognizes it. Maybe he’s becoming too slow at this game or maybe his brain made an extra effort to keep this song hidden in the farthest shelf of his mind’s music index. Of course he remembers it now – you spent two whole months of your life listening to it on repeat, making sure Yoongi also listened and cherished it with you when you were physically together and talking about how brilliantly composed it was when you were not.

Don’t get me wrong, he liked the song. But you adored it so much he started to wonder if you weren’t falling for the guy singing it. You know, it could happen… Right?

As soon as the moment is over, Yoongi shakes his head slightly to get rid of those thoughts as best as he can. They can’t ever truly leave and he knows that, but he just needs them to go back to that far place again – right where he keeps the ones that once made him happy and are still in the process of not hurting anymore. He takes quick steps, ready to get behind the wheel and leave the empty street when the source of the lazily sung melody makes a turn around the corner. 

When Yoongi casually looks up, he doesn’t expect so many of those neatly filed memories to come back, but they do with the same force gravity keeps us grounded. More than recognizing the song, he should’ve recognized your voice. How could he not have in a split second? His ears have truly failed him.

The first thing Yoongi notices is that you must be cold. It’s a little chilly for this time of year, but you’re wearing a dress that leaves most of your legs bare and exposed to the midnight wind and there’s only a thin sweater covering your back – way too light for his liking. His initial instinct is to take off his jacket and run to carefully place it around your shoulders, but then it hits him that it’s not like that anymore. You’re not like that anymore.

Oh, well.

It doesn’t really matter because only a second later Yoongi is willing to risk it all and throw his dignity out the window when he sees you stumble, losing your balance for a moment before giggling lightly and moving on only to trip on your own feet again. He can’t see your face now, but can totally picture the pout appearing on your lips.

She’s drunk, he thinks. She’s drunk and alone at this hour and right here in front of me for some reason.

Where the hell is she going?

Yoongi really isn’t the type to make reckless decisions, but he’s quick to convince himself this isn’t reckless at all. In this moment, he doesn’t mind the fact that you two are not together anymore – and haven’t been for a while now. He’d do that for anyone he cares about. 

And he would be an idiot to think he doesn’t care about you anymore.

Next thing Yoongi knows, his brain is ordering his legs to take long strides in your direction. He’s not rushing because he’s nervous or excited, but truly because seeing you like this doesn’t sit right with him. Yoongi is in the middle of taking off his jacket when you lose your balance again and his feet are suddenly moving faster.

“Hey.”

What Yoongi says doesn’t really come out as a greeting, but more like the way you call out someone for stealing the last cookie from the jar – only a little bit lower in tone. You turn around slowly, lazily, and not at all affected by the fact your ex is holding out his jacket in your direction in the middle of the street. It takes a few moments, but you finally open your mouth to say something.

“I already told you to stop calling me. Are you following me around now?”

Yoongi is surprised by your unbothered tone, but most of all by your slurred words. His brows are once again furrowed, trying to understand what exactly you mean by them while taking a few hesitant steps forward to finally be able to cover your shoulders with his jacket.

“Aren’t you cold?” He asks, deciding to ignore your previous remark for now. When you shrug, Yoongi raises his jacket with his hands to cover your back and takes a deep breath. Now this situation is fixed, he can go back to the other one. “What do you mean by stop calling you? I haven’t called in forever.”

You freeze. For the first time tonight, you raise your head to meet his eyes and, if you were in any other state, you’d be able to see the worry in his dark brown ones. Unfortunately for you, your vision is too blurry for that – the alcohol concentration so high your brain is having a hard time telling reality apart from your dreams.

“Oh, you haven’t?” You ask rhetorically, trying to look unfazed. “I must have… Mistaken you for someone else.”

Yoongi squeezes his eyes, not completely convinced, but decides to move on. “Where are you going? Do you want a ride?”

“No!” Your answer comes out too quickly and frantically for Yoongi, but he’s more worried about how your next words are even more unclear than before. “I don’t need a ride, I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi is, once again, unconvinced. “I can give you a ride home, I don’t think…”

“I’m just taking the bus.”

You try, but fail to raise your hand to wave him off, the movement just as imprecise as the words leaving your mouth. Yoongi sighs, taking another deep breath and holding back from getting closer to hold and support you – it really seems like your knees are just about to surrender, even more when you turn your body away from his, stubbornly attempting to take steps forward.

“Let me…” Yoongi starts, but his words falter as well. He knows this isn’t good for him, knows this isn’t going to make things easier, but he just needs to. “Let me take you home. Please. I can’t let you go alone like this.”

Those words hurt – they shouldn’t anymore, but they do even in your intoxicated state. You close your eyes tightly, lowering your head and desperately trying to organize your thoughts. You have wished for this to happen so many times before, but now you’re not so sure anymore. Isn’t this just going to reopen that damned wound?

You turn around to face him again. Your words are supposed to come out dry and indifferent, but instead drip with love and care. “You shouldn’t.”

“I know, but I’m doing it anyway.”

With that, Yoongi extends his hand and you reluctantly take it. His left hand is cold, but firmly intertwines with yours and you immediately feel protected the way you did before – like Yoongi would cross deserts and fires and seas for you. You know there’s no going back now. The wound is suddenly opened again, but you feel oddly fine with this as a warmth spreads inside – something you haven’t experienced in a long while.

Yoongi is taking extra careful and slow steps, supporting you without getting too close. The struggle to walk is still there, but you’re not stumbling as much with him by your side. As soon as you’re close to the car, Yoongi is opening the door for you and calmly asking if you can put on your seatbelt on your own, to which you nod silently. Then, he gently closes the door, walking around the car to the driver’s side.

“Please drink this,” Yoongi says once he’s inside, offering a water bottle out of seemingly nowhere while his other hand is quickly turning on the A/C to make the interior warmer for you. You do as you’re told, attempting to open the plastic bottle for a few seconds before Yoongi puts his hand on top of yours to help. “Here. There you go.”

You raise the bottle to your lips to take a sip and can’t help watching his actions carefully. Yoongi is as calm, gentle and collected as ever as he turns the wheel and releases the break, suddenly looking at you to check if you were done drinking before accelerating. With your head resting on the seat, you feel yourself let go of the constraints of not being together anymore. This is too much, too normal, so you and him that being completely captivated by him is simply unavoidable. 

“You’re not making it easy for me,” you start softly, letting out a short laugh. Yoongi doesn’t turn to you when you first speak, but does the second time around. “I tried so hard to move on, so hard… And right now I can’t even remember why we broke up.”

Yoongi has a small half-smile on his lips when he speaks. “You can’t remember because you’re drunk, but I remember it clearly.”

“You don’t get it,” you say, shaking your head from side to side. “I mean I don’t care why we broke up. Life with you was never easy, but I knew it wouldn’t be from the start. I knew it. I guess I was just tired.”

You pause to take another sip from the bottle and Yoongi remains silent, absorbing the meaning behind your words. The worst part is that he knows life with him is not easy at all and it breaks his heart to hear it from you even if he is aware of it. There’s something about it that makes it seem more real than ever.

“I know you also get tired of it sometimes,” you continue, voice becoming slightly clearer as the water washes your throat. “But you love it too much. I guess I loved you too much as well.”

“You’re speaking in past tense.”

“You’re right.” You nod, taking another big gulp of water before speaking again. “I love you too much. Present tense. I haven’t stopped loving you, do you think I ever will?”

That’s not really what Yoongi meant, but he’ll take anything. He smiles to himself as he stops the car at a red light, wanting to say something, but not quite figuring out the right words.

“You think too much before speaking sometimes,” you mention, way too used to this behavior coming from him. “Just say it. I can take it.”

“You’re drunk, you won’t remember anything.”

“I actually think I will but, if I don’t, that’s even more reason for you to say whatever you want.”

Yoongi wets his lips, wondering if he’s actually ready to speak his mind so openly – and in front of the person that matters the most in this case. “What if I told you I want you to remember?”

“Well, then what do you have to lose?”

The car is silent for a while and Yoongi takes advantage of the fact the traffic lights turn green to drop the subject completely. He doesn’t dare to speak another word and you’re okay with the silence – it isn’t uneasy or anything like that, but almost as if you’re just coming back from dinner somewhere or Yoongi is driving you back home after a lazy Sunday. It’s normal again. It’s us again like it hasn’t been in months.

By the time Yoongi parks in front of your place, you have finished the rest of the water bottle and your body has metabolized enough alcohol for you to be mindful not to leave the empty bottle behind, but take it with you to throw it away. You’re also not tipsy anymore and able to step out of the car on your own despite Yoongi being fast to catch up and help you close the door behind you. 

But that also means you’re now awfully aware of everything. Yoongi doesn’t ask for permission to follow you inside and you’re not inviting him in either, but you prefer it like this – it saves you both from awkward questions you don’t think either of you have answers for at this point. You’re determined to just let things flow however they want as long as they feel natural and comfortable to you. 

And they do. Yoongi remembers the passcode to open the main door, he remembers how stupidly placed the light sensor is and how you must wave your hand to the left when the stairs are to the right, and you bet he even remembers how many steps there are until the first floor of the building. When you’re in front of your door, he tentatively places his thumb on the fingerprint scanner just to check if you have deleted his info – which you haven’t. There’s a smug smile on his face when the door beeps and opens that you don’t want to acknowledge, instead choosing to move inside and sit to take off your shoes.

Again, this feels way too normal.

Yoongi is the first to walk again, moving his socketed feet in the direction of your tiny kitchen. He stops to check up on you for a second – just enough for you to catch his kind eyes – before diverting his gaze again. You know he wants to say something and it’s almost slipping away.

Meanwhile, Yoongi’s desperately trying to find something to talk about and is happy to find a mess of opened books and notes on top of the kitchen table. He’d ask anything not to touch on a certain subject. 

“How’s Law School going?”

“You didn’t just get in and removed your shoes to ask me about Law School, did you?”

Shit.

Yoongi’s right hand flies to scratch the back of his head. You notice this is the first time he shows any sign of nervousness and have to fight the urge to get closer to bring his arm down and tell him he doesn’t have to feel like this.

Actually, why fight it?

“Stop this,” you plead, taking a few steps to get closer and pull his arm down by the elbow. “Tell me what you wanted to say when we were in the car. I told you I can take it.”

Yoongi gulps, mouth suddenly too dry to speak. He wants to say something, he really does, but there’s no way he can find the right words under pressure.

“I…” He tries, tongue wetting his lips to buy some time. “I know life with me isn’t easy, but do you think it’s more bearable than this? Because I don’t think I can go on much longer.”

You turn your head slightly and open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out immediately. It takes you a few seconds to understand and process what Yoongi says and it pains you a little to know you don’t have a definite answer to that. Not yet.

Instead, you raise your head for your lips to reach his cheeks. Yoongi lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, soon closing his eyes to enjoy your touch again. It’s like a cup of warm tea in the winter, like waking up thinking it’s Monday only to realize it’s actually Sunday, like finishing a song knowing you did everything you could to make it perfect.

Like coming home.

You don’t separate when your lips leave his skin. Rather than facing him and his honey eyes, you bury your face in his neck, breathing him in while your hands encircle his body and rest on his lower back. Yoongi does the same, holding you as close and he can.

“Stay tonight.”

Your words come as a surprise to him. Yoongi expected you to somewhat kindly reject him, asking him to go because it hurts too much or – best case scenario – to take things slow for now. He expected you to treat his feelings gently, to maybe assure him you’d try your best for things to work a second time around, but definitely not this. He sighs contently.

“Okay.”

You only remove your hands from his back to take his own, moving slowly in the direction of your room and mumbling something about how Yoongi can wear one of the t-shirts you have not returned on purpose with a shy smile. Once in the bedroom, changing into something comfortable to sleep so unceremoniously in front of each other also kind of surprises Yoongi, but he’s happy to know you still feel like you don’t have to hide anything from him.

You take your time removing your makeup and brushing your teeth as Yoongi waits for you after washing his face. He’s leaning on the door frame with crossed arms, seemingly annoyed, but his face tells a different story – his eyes are shining bright although looking a bit tired and there’s the smallest of smiles on his face as he watches you intently as if you were his whole world.

Everything falls into place so effortlessly you’re both wondering if this is just a dream or if it’s actually real. Luckily, for the both of you, even though it feels like something that could only happen in a world of fantasy, there is nothing more sincere and true than this.

It’s not until you’re both tucked in bed that you feel like speaking again – and like you have to do it soon before falling asleep. You’re not really touching, but close enough for Yoongi to easily catch one of your hands in his and bring it close to his chest. His heartbeat is quick despite his calm expression and you raise your eyes to meet his just as Yoongi starts in his typical low register.

“Can I ask you something?” You blink and nod twice, not having enough energy in you to do much else. “Do you mind if I kiss you right now? I feel like I’m going to explode.”

You can’t help the shy smile on your lips. You know Yoongi is not the one to make this sort of remark and it makes your heart swell to think how he must be feeling to be bold enough to say it.

You nod yet again, but he’s not completely satisfied.

“Please say it so I can hear it.”

You let a short laugh escape your lips before whispering the words Yoongi so desperately wants to hear. “Yes, you can kiss me.”

Yoongi doesn’t rush even though there’s nothing else in the world he craves more than you. He takes his time, delicately settling a hand on your face while his opposite arm supports his weight. Your chest is now almost completely covered by his and you feel a warmth spread like wildfire as his soft lips touch yours.

And, just like that, you’re convinced he’s not leaving again any time soon.

Read more ›› masterlist

request | Hiiii I’d like to request for yoongi x reader who is in law graduate studies Abroad and yoongi stumbling upon her while shes drunk, and when he was talking a break from idol life. Pls huhu i love your writing btw ILY

note 2 | did you notice i 100% got carried away with this? i mean 3k words is a lot for my standards lol i hope you’re ok with what came out of it. thank you for reading! stay safe xx

[tuffduff]

But...I Like You (Dave Mustaine x Reader)

Pairing: fluff Dave Mustaine x female reader

Words: 2,384

Summary: Dave’s never been one for the holidays or romance, not until one fateful day at the laundromat changes everything. Suddenly, he finds himself seeing The Nutcracker and wonders just what lengths he’d go for this girl.

Taglist: @ubernoxa @the--blackdahlia @reigns420 @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker @rumoured-whispers

Dave couldn’t recognize himself in the mirror. His frame was wrapped in a new and unusually lavish coat, the first coat he owned that actually fit him—hell, the first coat he had bought ever. There was a scarf around his neck made of something called cashmere, something he never thought he would have adorning his body. Most notable, however, was the look of glassy fear in his eyes.

He had let go of general fear a long time ago. Fear held him back, and he wasn’t about to let anything hold him back. And who the fuck cares, really? But there it was again, that little uncertain glimmer making his eyes frown. He couldn’t decide what he didn’t like more—his outfit or the look on his face.

When he walked out to the living room of his apartment, he nearly tried to sneak back into his room, but Junior and Jeff had already caught sight of him.

“Woah there, is that you, Dave? Are you under there?” Jeff teased and Dave was already glaring.

“Man, where are you going, huh? I didn’t realize you even owned this outfit.” Junior added, to which Dave felt less anger, so he focused on him, rather than Jeff—who he still wanted to punch.

“To see a show.” He said curtly, trying to close the conversation forcefully, of course, to no avail.

“You’re not going to the movies dressed like that. Where are you actually going?” Jeff joked, glancing at Junior to be backed up.

“I never said movie.” Dave retorted, glaring at the guitarist before he gathered his wallet and looked for his keys.

“So, where are you really going?”

“I’m going to see a production, it’s at the Opera House, it’s a little more upscale—”

“Opera House? You’re going to see an opera?” Jeff exploded

“No.” Dave snapped, growing more annoyed.

“What does this mean for Megadeth?” Jeff just kept pestering until Dave finally yelled.

“It’s the fucking Nutcracker!” Jeff and Junior were silent before they began to laugh. ��Look, it wasn’t my idea—clearly. The San Francisco Ballet Company is doing their annual show, apparently they were the first in the US to produce a full-length production, and Y/N really wanted to go…”

“Oh,” Junior realized, leaning his head back with a knowing look on his face that made Dave glare again. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, shut up about it.” Dave snapped. Jeff looked between them.

“Y/N? Who’s Y/N?”

“This girl Dave met a while back at the laundromat.” Jeff raised an eyebrow.

“Think you met ‘the one’ at the laundromat, huh?” Jeff said incredulously. Dave sent another glare at Junior before he finally saw his keys laying on the kitchen counter and snatched them up.

“You’ll never be capable of knowing what I think, Jeff. You lack the brain cells.” He snapped, leaving the apartment. Outside, he let out a breath that he could see in the air.

Was he being too harsh on his band mates? No, never that. Was he being defensive? Maybe. Was he being stupid? Yes.

Stupid for letting you actually make him have these little daydreams littering his head for the past few weeks.

It started at the laundromat, yes, but Dave wasn’t the type of man that idealized romantic prospects. The light didn’t hit you in a certain way and the angels didn’t sing like the way it always did in those cliche romance movies. Rather, you dropped your entire load of laundry on the floor in front of him.

“Shoot,” you had sighed, merely looking at the garments of clothing with disdained tiredness. As he watched it all unfold, he had imagined what he would do in that moment—probably react in some type of anger—and watched as a smile came across your face before you looked directly at him. It was just a brief moment, but Dave felt like he was confined to that chair for an hour. Like he’d never been seen before in his life until that moment, in the dimly lit dingy laundromat.

“It must be Monday.” You said, before calmly getting on your knees and beginning to put the clothes back in the basket. For some reason, he found himself next to you.

“It’s Sunday.” He corrected you, to which you laughed.

“Even worse.”

His hand landed on a Led Zeppelin shirt to which he glanced over at you. “You a fan?”

“Yeah! Love them. How can you go wrong with them?” You eyed him again longer than he expected and he nearly winced when you narrowed them speculatively. “You look familiar.”

“I’m in a band.” He admitted, before too quickly adding, “Megadeth.” He hoped to see realization light your eyes, but you shook your head.

“No. Maybe I’ve seen your face on MTV?”

“There’s a chance.”

“I was joking.” You laughed. “But clearly, you’re not, huh. You know, there’s a record store across the street. Prove it.” You smiled at him.

The both of you left your laundry to be washed and headed over to the local record shop decorated with string Christmas lights on the roof and frosted windows. He bought their latest for you So Far, So Good…So What? and briefly gave you quick insight about where he got the name of the band from, song titles, why he enjoyed music...

Okay, he spilled his guts. He couldn’t stop talking. But that wasn’t his fault—you were hanging onto his every word. You listened, really listened; you seemed to listen more than anyone he had ever spoken to. More than that, you seemed to understand. And so, he went back to the laundromat next week at the same exact time, walking as quick as he could and hating that fact that he was doing so, until he felt relief when he saw you inside again.

You remembered him too—you smiled when you saw him. “It must be Sunday, huh?”

“Got it right this time.” He replied with a smirk.

Dave was aware he could talk someone’s ear off. He had a lot to say about the world and its affairs and usually didn’t care a whole lot about other people’s thoughts—they were usually stupid. But you, he made an active attempt to listen to. He listened rather than spoke, and when he did speak, he would ask questions, trying to get to know you on an even deeper level. And just as he assumed, you kept his attention better than anyone else.

You had a way of looking at the world from a completely different perspective than him. Like it was something to be solved. Like a bad thing didn’t mean it was the end of the road. That nothing really stays dead, that every little thing has a purpose, a meaning.

“Surely that’s not true.” Dave finally said. “Not every single thing has a meaning. Some things are just the way they are and that’s the way it is.” You just smiled at him.

“If it weren’t for the fact that my washer broke, I wouldn’t have come here. And if it weren’t for the fact that I thought it was Monday—my usual laundry day—instead of Sunday, I wouldn’t have met you.”

Dave didn’t understand the way his heart pounded a little harder. He wondered if he imagined the way your eyes stared a little too long at his and felt absolutely stupid for even having such a thought. And yet, he couldn’t stop staring. He couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering down your body. He couldn’t stop himself from telling David about you.

Oh, he knew exactly what was happening. He was strapped in on a rollercoaster ride and he was nearing the drop, unable to do nothing but watch as he felt things he’d never felt before. The whole reason he pursued guitar playing was to pick up girls; he had had lots of girls. And you, you weren’t like them. You seemed to admire him for being in a band, but you were more interested in why he hated breakfast and never ate it. Or why he didn’t like Christmas.

“This doesn’t just make you automatically happy?” You questioned him, gesturing to the atmosphere that surrounded the two of you. Your meetings had upgraded to a coffee shop. Dave didn’t drink coffee, but he watched you order a hot chocolate and realized maybe that was okay and ordered the same.

“What? The crowds, the god-awful music, the annoying lights everywhere, everyone’s ugly sweaters?” You grinned and laughed, and he wished the sound could be pumped out of the shop’s speakers rather than “Jingle Bells.”

“It’s just the time of year when everything is supposed to go right.” You ignored him, smiling a little. “When I was a kid, I used to go and see The Nutcracker with my family every year. The San Francisco Ballet Company started it—they had the first full length production back in 1944. Or at least, that’s what my mom said.”

“I’m guessing they’ve got shows going on with it being so close to Christmas.” Dave wasn’t sure why he was saying that. You nodded.

“Yeah, their last show is Sunday.”

“Why don’t we go?” You were just as surprised as he was.

“What? You’re kidding. A ballet doesn’t seem very up your alley, Mr. Megadeth.”

“Try me, think I’m just some metal knucklehead that couldn’t appreciate it?”

“I don’t think you would like it.”

“Maybe I will, you don’t know me.” You chuckled, but still appeared unsure, which only made him more determined. “Look, you said you haven’t been in forever. I’m in a good place this year after the album, those tickets will be nothing. It’s on me. So, if I were you, I would just agree before I change my mind.”

“Well...alright.”

And here he was outside this damn theater, pulling on his coat, knowing his hair was out of place despite that fact that he had tied it back. He was still getting strange looks by the crowd of couples walking arm in arm into the theater, telling him without words that he didn’t belong.

“Dave?” He heard from behind him and turned. He was already thinking of some kind of dry teasing reply, but all words left his head at the sight of you, dressed nicer than he’d seen you yet, every hair in place. “Look at you! You own a scarf?” He scoffed, feeling a smirk grow on his face.

“Stole it from a guy on my way here.” He joked to make you laugh. To his surprise, you also leaned in and kissed his cheek. As if that’s just what you did. All of it was so foreign; you, this theater, this ballet show. And he was a puzzle piece that shouldn’t fit.

“Shall we?” You asked. He was still trying to find the words to compliment you, but instead, he nodded.

In your seats with the lights down, Dave alternated his time from watching the stage and the dancers to the other audience members, young and old alike. All of them seemed to fit each other’s company, each other’s social circle; he was the anomaly.

And then there was you, which he elected to watch for the rest of his time. The way your eyes quickly flitted back and forth as you took in the sight, your eyebrows raising, how you’d hold your breath for a second at the really dramatic parts.

All of a sudden, there was you, sweeter than a sugar plum, somehow embodying all the niceness everyone said Christmas was supposed to be about. Thanks to you, he was out of his element, and he felt like he was meant to be there. After all, where did he really belong anyway?

Did it matter if he could be anywhere with you?

“So?” You asked him eagerly after the show when the lights came back on. The two of you sat in your seats as everyone around you stood, in no hurry.

“You’re going to be surprised to hear this, but there are a lot of similarities between classical music and metal. Really, Tchaikovsky’s stuff isn’t so different than—”

“I meant the show! The story! Oh, did you see the costumes?” You laughed, and he smiled, shaking his head at you.

“To be honest, I was watching you most of the time.” You seemed startled by his words, and he took your speechlessness as the chance to keep going. “I couldn’t find the words to tell you earlier how beautiful you look. Really, this whole night I just kept thinking that maybe it was a mistake. That I’m not the type of guy that comes here, I’m the guy playing in the sleazy, dark club on the bad side of town. But I was wrong. And I’m glad I came; I should have done it right though. I should’ve brought you flowers, picked you up, I should’ve complimented you as soon as I saw you, I should have kissed you when you kissed my cheek—”

“Dave.” You interrupted him calmly, taking his hand in yours and giving him an ever-growing smile. “You have no idea how much this means to me. Christmas is my favorite time of the year, but this year it’s been so hectic, and I haven’t been able to really enjoy it...until now. That was all I actually wanted. I don’t care about the flowers.” He stared at you for a second before he smiled.

“That’s all?” He asked before he leaned in closer, grazing the side of your cheek with his lips as he whispered. “You don’t want one more thing?” He felt your hand rest on his cheek and turned his head to press his lips to yours, savoring the moment and realizing he had never really been kissed before, not like this.

“Well, I guess that too.” You mumbled with that sweet smile on your face before you looked up at him with big eyes. “Okay but really, was it up to your standards, or was I right all along?”

“I hate Christmas. And I don’t really enjoy the things that come with it.” He admitted with a keen smirk as he pulled back, and you giggled. He let himself enjoy the feeling of your face cradled between his hands, so used to always cradling a guitar, this new sensation—skin-on-skin—was intoxicating. As were your lips, that he leaned in again to steal another kiss from. “But...I like you.”

[tuanhood]

hypnotic | part one

paring: vampire!im jaebeom x reader

genre: angst, eventual smut (part two), vampire au

warnings: language, cringey vampire cliches i’m sure

word count: 9,800+

summary: jaebeom has been waiting 200 years to find his mate - the one who can break his trance and isn’t affected by his hypnotic abilities. You don’t seem to be that person, but he just can’t seem to get you out of his mind… why? 

a/n: hello guys! so i originally had this planned to post tomorrow (the 30th) but it was so long i decided to split it up and post one part today and the other part on the 31st! This first part is mostly Jaebeom and not a lot of Y/N but SO BE IT. This is also my first time writing in the genre of vampire/fantasy loL so please forgive me because it’ll probably be cringe and not make sense. if that’s the case lol drop me a message!! also vampire jaebeom was requested FOREVER ago. so here it is practically 3 decades later. and i attempted to make a banner. if someone can make me a better one it’s v much WELCOME.

part two

Knock Knock Knock 

He wished he could just pretend like he was asleep. He wished he could use that as an excuse to not answer the door, but based on the very strong feeling he was getting from who was behind it – that wouldn’t work. 

“I know you’re in there! Just answer the damn door Jaebeom!”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes, leave it to Bambam to be at his front door before the day even had a chance to truly begin. Before letting him in, he went through all the possible things or excuses he could use to get out of whatever his younger friend had in mind.

“Is your vintage YSL here or is it still at the dry cleaners?” Bambam asked, pushing past Jaebeom as soon as he has the door partway open.

Gruffly, Jaebeom turned back into his apartment to Bambam already halfway to his bedroom – no doubt to look through his closet, “What are you doing here Bam?” 

“What does it look like? I’m here for the vintage YSL asshole!” 

He’s learned by now that it’s better to let him do his thing – whatever that may mean. So instead of following Bambam, he plopped down onto the same couch he’s had for nearly 15 years. “You know when I first bought that shirt it wasn’t considered vintage!”

Jaebeom waited for a response, but instead, he was met with silence. After a few moments – many of them thinking about how maybe it was time to replace the couch – he felt his “vintage” YSL button-down hit him in the face. 

He groaned; the impact was surely going to create wrinkles in the material he tried to keep in pristine condition. It was ironic since he was often heard making fun of how much Bambam cared about clothes, but Jaebeom liked to keep his things nice. “Bam I just got it back from getting cleaned a couple of days ago.”

“Put it on.” 

The tone of his friend’s voice seemed rather impatient. If he had closed his eyes, Jaebeom would have thought he was talking to Jinyoung or even himself. 

“Why do I need to put it on? It’s 8 in the morning; where are we going?”

“Um excuse me? Did you forget what day it was? Now come on, we’re meeting Jinyoung at that new café down the street in fifteen.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to picture the café on the mental map he keeps in his mind, “the one that used to be a video store in the 90s?”

Bambam made his way into the living room, picking up a few glasses that rested on the coffee table Jaebeom’s feet were on top of, and marched over to the small kitchen. Jaebeom has lived in this apartment more years than he’d like to admit, especially because enough time had passed that the neighbors he had were clearly aging and he just stayed 26. The thought of moving somewhere new often enters his mind, but with this place, he just can’t bring it in himself to go quite yet. It’s almost as though something is tying him to this city, this place – like he’s waiting for something.

“Yes, and a speakeasy in the 20s both of which are not important right now because we live in the 21st century Jaebeom. Now come on, Jinyoung’s waiting – that asshole is always early.” 

He heard Bambam mumble something along the lines of known him 100 years, would it kill him to just be on time for once, as he furiously dropped the glasses on the kitchen counter.

“Do I have to go?” 

Bambam paused his motions of putting Jaebeom’s dirty dishes into the sink to stare the older vampire down, “Jaebeom you only turn 200 once.” 

He scoffed in response, “Jesus don’t remind me.”

“We have to make a whole day of it! So please just put the shirt on, because I want you looking presentable,” he stopped in the middle of his sentence, suddenly wiggling his eyebrows, “you never know what could happen.” The final word is drawn out, almost sing-song like and it drives Jaebeom up the wall because he knows exactly what Bambam is referencing.

For Jaebeom and those like Jaebeom, they didn’t consider the day they were born as their birthday, but instead as the day they turned. There was no point in celebrating their birth anymore as they were no longer alive. However, at this point after 200 birthdays, – alive and dead combined - Jaebeom was beginning to believe that there was no point to those either. He always knew being immortal was a curse but day by day that idea was only solidifying itself in his mind.  

Jaebeom let out a gruff breath which only made Bambam look up from the fork he was scrubbing, “Bam I don’t know what you think is going to happen today… but it certainly isn’t that.” 

The “that” he was referencing was one of the main factors that as of late had made him feel like living forever was indeed a waste. It was the thing that was supposed to make him feel “complete.” According to old texts and traditional vampire folklore, he was now walking around half full, but once he met his mate, he would become whole. At first, he didn’t believe the tale. He had gotten by so far without a mate that the idea of him not being complete made him laugh. But watching both Bambam and Jinyoung find their mates – Bambam 70 years ago and Jinyoung 16 years ago – made him finally acknowledge and reflect on the piece of himself he was missing. 

And fuck he was lonely. 

Bambam chuckled at him as if being in on his own personal joke. His friend was strange like that sometimes, “just put the shirt on Jaebeom.” 

By the time he’s had the shirt on and Bambam has somehow convinced him to let him wear his Rolex he got as a gift from his friend Jackson in 1920, Jaebeom feels mentally prepared to leave the house and embark on this dreadful day. The reminder that he has now been around for 200 years and still is not whole.

“Finally,” Jinyoung sighed when Jaebeom and Bambam finally reached the café down the street, “I’ve been waiting 20 minutes.” 

A disgruntled Bambam checks his watch, “well if you don’t want to wait every single time, don’t be so fucking early,” he promptly turned to Jaebeom to share his grief regarding their friend, “you think he would learn after all this time.” 

“Let’s just go order,” Jaebeom shrugged, not caring to be in another disagreement between his longer than life friends.

“Be honest you’re early on purpose just so it gives you something to complain about and a reason to make us feel bad!” 

Jinyoung ignored Bambam’s theory, replying to the oldest, “no need. I already ordered for the three of us. It’s a special day, the birthday boy doesn’t need to pay,” he glanced at Bambam, “you on the other hand…” 

The two new arrivals, flop down into the sofa chairs on either side of Jinyoung, along of them situated to make a half-circle in front of a low coffee table. The three of them had somehow stuck into this… pattern. Years of friendship that contained years of Bambam/Jinyoung squabbles that Jaebeom would often have to mediate. Patterns were nice, but sometimes they would get old – especially after so long. 

As the two of them argue over whether or not Bambam should pay Jinyoung back for a simple iced Americano because Bam swears he got the drinks the last two times, Jaebeom looks over to the counter where the baristas work on – no doubt – the plethora of orders they have. The factor of the café being new has certainly been the cause of the popularity and amount of people in the shop. He can’t help but feel bad for the individuals working on the drinks – three years ago he had been one of them for roughly 18 months and knew that it wasn’t as easy as it appeared to be. 

In retrospect, Jaebeom didn’t have to work. He had so much time to learn and understand what it meant to be financially responsible. Not only that, but he’s literally had hundreds of years to save. Plus, his early investments in companies ended up landing him some pretty substantial and valuable shares. Jaebeom was sitting on quite the pretty penny. 

“Wow your portfolio is remarkable… I’ve never seen one like it,” his latest financial advisor had said to him in complete awe, “I mean an early investor in Amazon? Apple? Mastercard?” 

Jaebeom had laughed nervously, “What can I say? My grandpa had good intuition, I guess.” 

Money aside, he had wanted something to do with his time – hence his barista job. It was fun, but like most things, Jaebeom just grew tired of it and as he watched the girl working the espresso machine let out an exhausted breath, he realized that he wasn’t missing it. 

Jaebeom has become good at studying people. It was something he still wasn’t sure of whether it was a vampire thing or just something he had picked up over time. Watching the girl at the machine, her hair is in a low bun, a few strands falling in front of her face. It’s clear with the way the hair tie is situated, that the hairstyle was once a bit neater, tighter, and sat at the middle or even top of her head. However, the now fallen placement and slight disarray signal how busy she’s been working and how fried she must be feeling. 

He looks to the string bracelet on her wrist, visible from far away enough for Jaebeom to conclude that she must have someone in her life deemed important to wear one of those “friendship” bracelets. He never saw the point, but humans were strange creatures, despite him once being one. 

Jaebeom’s breath hitches when he catches sight of the delicately drawn tattoo on her wrist near the bracelet. It’s of lavender and it immediately reminds him of his mother who had loved exploring the lavender field that had been near his home when he was a child. Despite all the time that has passed since he lost his mother, the pain that aches inside of Jaebeom when he thinks of her isn’t any less. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the call at the coffee bar, “Order for Jinyoung.” 

The call comes from the overworked girl he had been studying and Jaebeom wants more than anything to stand up and retrieve their orders. He finds a weird want to hear what her laugh sounds like. Maybe he could say something or strike up a conversation that would-

“What are you doing?” It takes Jaebeom a moment to notice that he has partially stood up from his chair as if he’s about to go somewhere. Cluelessly, he replied, “going to get the drinks.”

The youngest shook his head, “No way! Birthday boys don’t get their drinks, they don’t lift a finger.” 

He knew Bambam was one to take birthdays seriously, but this was beginning to feel like it was going the extra mile too many. 

“I’ll get it.” 

Jaebeom watched Bambam get up to retrieve the drinks. He expects him to just grab the drinks and return to the table, but instead, Bambam says something to the girl. Arching his neck to the side, he tries to make a clear path to eavesdrop on what’s being said, hearing being one of the benefits of turning. Unfortunately, the café is too loud for him to focus on the conversation and he’s defeated by the fact that he’ll have to stay in the dark.

The girl laughs loudly at something Bambam said and Jaebeom can’t help but feel mixed about it. On one hand, he got his wish – hearing her laugh – but on the other hand, he wasn’t the cause of it. For some reason it makes him bring his clench and unclench his fists which rest on the arms of the sofa chair. Jinyoung takes notice.

Jaebeom quickly looks down at his lap when he senses that Bambam is returning to where they’re sat, not wanting to give away that he had been staring. First, he places Jinyoung’s and his drink on the table, soon turning back around to go back and fetch the last drink – Jaebeom’s. 

When he comes back, Jaebeom looks up to see a large grin spread across the youngest’s face. He has that look again – the one as if he knows a joke Jaebeom doesn’t. 

The latter nodded his head in thanks for getting the drinks as he inspects his green tea on the table. Just as he’s about to pick up the mug, he’s stopped in his tracks by an announcement coming from the coffee bar. 

“Hello everyone! Sorry for the interruption, but I’ve been told that we have a birthday here today,” you said. Giving announcements wasn’t your strong suit, but you figured now that you were an actual owner of something, you were going to get over your shyness. But you didn’t think it was going to be that often that a tall, skinny and pale boy with a Rolex on his wrist would be asking you to get your coffee shop to sing happy birthday for his friend. Even when you were a barista working for someone else no one had made such a request. This was a café after all, not an Applebee’s.

Jaebeom wished more than anything that he could sink into his seat and just disappear. If only that cliché that vampires turned into bats were true, then he could just fly away at a moment’s notice. Leave it to Bambam to torture him like this. It wasn’t intentional of course, but it certainly felt like it to Jaebeom. 

It was especially tragic to him because the girl he had been studying was the one leading the entire café in singing “Happy Birthday.” He did his best to avoid looking at her, feeling like his entire body was heating up in embarrassment even though he couldn't heat up. 

You on the other hand felt a little insulted by the birthday boy’s lack of eye contact. You hadn’t even managed to get a good look at him before you started singing and now it was not possible with the way that he was looking down at the ground, his long hair falling in front of his face, concealing itself to you. It wasn’t difficult to conclude that he felt awkward about a bunch of strangers he had never met singing him happy birthday, you had felt the same whenever your friends tried to ambush you on your birthday… but you at least looked up and acknowledged the presence of the people singing. A tight smile from this guy would even be happily accepted. 

When the song is over and the claps that follow finally subside, he looks up to see the café back at its previous state of normalcy, not a single person looking at him anymore. Jaebeom lets out a sigh of relief. 

“You could at least act like you liked it,” Bambam huffed in annoyance. He wished Jaebeom could appreciate the idea of birthdays like he did. 

“I really didn’t need to be the center of attention today Bam.” 

“But it’s your bir-” Bambam begins to explain, but Jaebeom abruptly cuts him off, not wanting to hear his reasoning for today’s antics, yet again. The day hadn’t even started.

“My birthday, I know. Thanks for reminding me.” 

Jinyoung clears his throat and plays with the spoon that came with his Flat White. Just as Jaebeom is the mediator for Bambam and Jinyoung, sometimes Jinyoung has to be the mediator for Jaebeom and Bambam. Essentially the commonality in the disagreements of their trio friendship is Bambam and currently, Jinyoung feels as though he should route the conversation elsewhere.

“What else is in the cards for tonight then boys?” 

It’s then based on the look on Jaebeom’s face, that Jinyoung thinks that maybe talking about the plans for tonight – on Jaebeom’s birthday – isn’t re-routing the conversation. Especially since it’s Bambam’s whose eyes light up and is the one to reply to him.

“Obviously we’re going out tonight,” Bambam paused and turned to Jaebeom, wagging his finger in the latter’s face, “there’s no way you’re getting out of this. I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes and didn’t respond as he knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He had rejected Bambam’s invitations to go out consistently for the last 6 months and on his birthday of all days, Bam was going to force him out of the house just as he had done this morning to come to the café.

He looks back to the front counter, his eyes searching for the barista who has now suddenly disappeared. A frown begins to make itself known on his face, feeling a bit disappointed by the fact that she may have left already or gone elsewhere, but soon she’s popping up from behind the counter, no doubt getting something from the cabinets below. Jaebeom feels relief. 

“What did you say to her?” he asked suddenly looking back at Bambam.

He cocked his head to the side, confused, “What did I say to who?” 

“The barista behind the counter.” 

His friend nodded his head slowly, suddenly realizing what Jaebeom means. A smirk appears on his face, “nothing much… Just how it was your birthday and it would be really good if we could all embarrass you by singing about it. She’s not a barista, by the way, she owns the place. Kinda backward thinking there Jae. It’s the 21st century, women can own things now, they can vote.” 

“I know that,” Jaebeom hissed. 

Bambam puts up his hands in defeat, “I’m just making sure.” 

“Don’t you know her?” Jinyoung asked, “isn’t that why we came here?” 

Jaebeom’s interests are perked. It’s not often that the three of them meet new people. It’s not like there’s a huge point to it. The last new person the three of them met was Mark – also a vampire – a bartender at their favorite club in the city, but that was in 2007. 

He waits for Bambam’s explanation as to how he knows this girl and why they came here specifically beside it just being near Jaebeom’s apartment. 

Waving his hand nonchalantly, the Thai boy gives his answer, “I don’t really know her. Minji does. Met her in some kind of class, I think. SoulCycle? Pilates? Zumba? I don’t know. I can’t keep up with her and her activities these days.” 

Minji is Bambam’s mate. He had turned her only a month after they met. 

Jaebeom’s not sure what he would do if he met his mate. He doesn’t know if he would want to subject them to turning and living the same kind of life as him, but he also doesn’t know if he could continue life alone after meeting his mate. If he ever meets them.

“Why the curiosity?” Jinyoung asked, for once finding it hard to remain stone-faced. Even his usual chill, non-revealing demeanor seems to fade away when it appears that his older friend might be attracted to someone. 

Jaebeom simply shrugged, “it’s nothing…” 

“What do you think? Could she be the one?” Bambam asked teasingly, pointing to the girl behind the counter. 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes almost immediately at the younger boy, “if you’re going to keep bothering him about it, don’t make it so obvious idiot.” 

Jaebeom had been alive – or more like undead – for 200 years and more than half of that time he had to listen to this same conversation from his friends over and over again. His patience was wearing thin and 180 years later, he was tired of their pestering. 

He leaned forward slowly and grabbed his green tea off the table, making sure to visibly flinch at the heat of the drink, Bambam, and Jinyoung chuckling at his reaction. Out of the three of them, Jaebeom certainly had the most practice when it came to “putting on a show” for the humans and “acting” the most human. Taking a sip, he looked back at the girl behind the counter. 

The youngest vampire had spent many of their outings and conversations hypothesizing who Jaebeom’s mate could be. Despite being the oldest of the three, Jaebeom was the only one left who still hadn’t found his mate and he was beginning to feel hopeless. Typically, Bambam pointed out any human girl as a candidate – all of them of course ended up not being his mate. Therefore, Jaebeom didn’t pay attention to his picks anymore, but he had to admit… He did get a strange feeling from the girl behind the counter. 

Jaebeom looked to you, hoping to catch your gaze as you quickly made the coffee orders for the few people waiting to the side of the cash register. Just when he was about to give up and focus his attention back on his friends, you tore your concentration away from the drink in your hand and looked up at him from across the cafe. 

Jaebeom focused his gaze deep onto you with his eyes – testing, checking, and trialing your focus. You didn’t look away, instead, you trained your eyes deeply into his and stared at him until finally, it was Jaebeom who broke the contact. 

He shook his head at his friends, disappointed by your inability to break the trance and ultimately confused at the feeling he still got from you despite that. 

Jaebeom took another sip of the tea, “it’s not her.” 

“Did you have to debate that Uber driver on the Twilight franchise?” Jinyoung groaned at Bambam as soon as they’re out of the car. 

The entire twenty-minute ride, he had got into a heated discussion with their driver on how Twilight was not “true” or realistic to most actual vampire folklore. It had been an excruciating thing to listen to. 

“Got to stand up for our kind dude.” 

“Okay, but what happens when she starts asking how you know all these things or why you’re so interested in vampire stuff?” Jinyoung tended to always be right. This wasn’t an exception.

Brushing off his pants, Bambam gives him a nonchalant wave, “chill out man. Everyone loves vampire stuff.” 

“Maybe in 2008,” Jaebeom said just barely loud enough for his friends to hear them. The two of them laughed, Bambam shoving him playfully on the shoulder, “Birthday boy getting funny on us.” 

“I was always funny,” Jaebeom deadpanned. 

“Funny and looking good tonight. Let’s get you laid, shall we?” 

After a day that was jampacked full of various activities planned by his youngest friend, the last thing Jaebeom wanted to do was spend extra energy on trying to get some girl to come home with him tonight. Besides, he wasn’t that guy anymore. 

Jinyoung scoffed, “he doesn’t need to get laid tonight.”

“Yes, he does! Jaebeom how long has it been?” 

This time it’s Jinyoung that shoves Bambam’s shoulder – except it’s not all that playful. 

“Fine don’t answer that, but I’m just saying there will be quite a few girls here that you can have your pick of, despite your plain outfit.” 

Jaebeom looked at the clothes he had changed into when Bambam spared him a sliver of time to go back home to digress and feed his cats. The latter had wanted him to borrow clothes of his, but instead, Jaebeom decided on pulling pieces from his closet that felt more like him, less like Bambam. A plain pair of ripped jeans, an oversized black shirt that he had bought at a shop from his trip to London last year, and his mother’s necklace that often wasn’t missing from its spot around his neck.

Bambam’s earlier critique was that he was dressed too basic and that no girls would bat an eye at him. Girls don’t like plain guys, he had said. The comment makes Jaebeom wonder about you and whether you’d fall under the category of not liking “plain” guys. 

He bites the inside of his cheek. It was probably the eighth time he had made himself do it today. Jaebeom had found his mind often drifting to you throughout the day for some unexplainable reason. During their walk in the park, he wondered if you would take strolls during your breaks from the café or when Bambam forced him to go paint pottery for an hour and a half he thought about what you would paint. It frustrated him because he hadn’t even spoken to you – not a word and yet you were clearly on his mind for one reason or another. It wasn’t even like you were his mate. He had tried to see if you were unaffected by his trance, his hypnotic capabilities, but you had just stared at him completely fixated just as everyone else was. 

Jaebeom was not going to think about you any longer. He was already planning on avoiding your café. 

“We’re on the list,” Bambam tells the bouncer when they arrive at the entrance of the club. He scans the list and motions his head towards the direction of the door to signal to the three of them to go on ahead. There’s a bit of a whine coming from the people waiting in line which admittedly so makes Jaebeom feel a little guilty, but Bambam ensures him it’s fine, “why have a friend who works at a club if we can’t use him for the perks?” 

“Why does he keep bartending again?” As soon as the question is out of Jaebeom’s mouth he realizes it was a stupid thing to ask since the answer is apparent. 

Bambam laughed at him, giving his long – irreplaceable he’d like to remind everyone – leather coat to the person at the front of the club. Jaebeom swears he hears him tell the coat check guy the “proper” way to put it on a hanger. 

“Obviously for the girls Jaebeom.” 

Mark’s mate – Hana had passed on a long time ago. Jaebeom had never got the chance to meet her, only hears about her in passing from some stories that Mark has told the three of them. He hadn’t turned her. Jaebeom’s never asked why. 

“Girls… of course.” 

He can’t help but think about how Mark must feel inside. Although Jaebeom doesn’t know him as well as he knows Bambam and Jinyoung, whenever he’s with the older boy he’s always got a smile on his face. Often quiet, but he’s always got certain energy bouncing off of him that would indeed make him popular with women. However, if what they say about mates is true, would that mean that a piece of Mark was now missing? Did he feel like he was less of a person? Jaebeom felt like that sometimes and he hadn’t even met his mate yet. Mark had his, but now he didn’t. 

“Drinks?” Jinyoung asked the two of them and Jaebeom is partly surprised. Out of the three of them, Bambam was the one who was the most comfortable in a club or even bar setting. He figures that Jinyoung must be using his birthday as an excuse to cut loose and become someone else for the night.

Bambam instantly nodded his head at Jinyoung’s suggestion and Jaebeom finds himself trailing behind the two of them as they make their way over to Mark at the bar who is throwing his head back at something the girl across the bar is saying. Judging on Jaebeom’s intuition – it’s a bit fake and overplayed, but you got to do what you got to do.

“My man!” Bambam yelled over the music, leaning against the counter in a way to make sure he doesn’t get the elbows of his long sleeve turtleneck wet. Mark in response, turned to them and smiled, then routing his attention back to the girl, giving her an apologetic smile. Her half-smile says everything Jaebeom could need to know – this girl would not be going home with Mark after his shift tonight. 

“What can I get you guys tonight,” Mark turned to Jaebeom and the latter can barely make out his sharp canines in the dark club, “birthday boy you want anything special?” 

Before Jaebeom can reply that he wants to be at home, Bambam answers for him.

“Could we maybe get something that’s off the menu?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Mark who gave him a shit-eating grin, knowing immediately what he was talking about. 

“Off the menu” meant Mark’s secret stash of O negative underneath the counter. While alcohol had the same effect on them that it had on the average humans, adding a bit of blood just made a little bit better. Okay… it made it a lot better. 

“Three negronis coming right up,” Mark winked to give a little signal that these would most likely not be as well composed or put together as a negroni, but due to them being in public, he couldn’t necessarily announce a shit ton of alcohol mixed with human blood was going to be served up to them. 

“How has your birthday been Jae?” Mark asked as he was in the middle of placing three glasses onto the countertop in between them.

It was difficult to explain since to Jaebeom it had just been another day except for a little bit more excruciating. The celebration of another year “older” filled him with thoughts of how much time has passed, whether he’s done anything truly important and why he still hasn’t found the person who is meant to complete him… but like he said only a little more excruciating than any other day. 

Jaebeom shrugged in response, “Bam planned a lot and for the most part, it was…” he paused for a moment, wondering if he should say how he felt – numb, lost, and wishing the day would come to an end as if tomorrow won’t bring the same thoughts or problems. But as he looked at his friends who had tried so hard today to make him happy and celebrate, he decided to guard them against the ultimate truth, “for the most part it was fun – really good. I mean besides the singing at the café of course.” He throws in the last part to at least have some kind of believability to his story. 

He notices Mark’s eyebrows lift out of curiosity as his concentration focuses on measuring out each part of the drinks, “An entire café sang you happy birthday? Damn, I don’t think I could ever get through that, so I can only imagine how you feel.” 

“That was Bam’s idea,” Jinyoung muttered. 

Once again, Bambam does his nonchalant waving of the hand, “it wasn’t that bad. I mean okay, maybe it was… But Jaebeom was obsessed with the girl who led it.” 

Jaebeom suddenly feels like he wants to put duct tape over his friend’s mouth. 

“I was not obsessed with her! I don’t even know her!” Jaebeom for some reason felt the need to defend himself, which was probably the worst option. Him getting defensive was usually a tell-tale sign for his friends being right on whatever they were confronting him with. 

Bambam scoffed, bringing gliding his drink across the bar to be directly in front of him once Mark has poured it neatly into the short glass, “I noticed you staring at her before I went to get the drinks. That’s why I asked her to do it in the first place.” 

“So, she doesn’t know Minji?” Jinyoung questioned. 

The youngest takes his first sip and immediately lets out a hissing noise, signaling to Mark that it’s both strong and good. “No, she does, but Jaebeom’s weird staring only made it that much better.” 

Mark pushed the other two glasses towards Jinyoung and Jaebeom, “Was she your…” he drifted off, almost as though he was finding it physically difficult to get the word out. Jaebeom can’t help but feel the want to reach his hand out towards Mark and place it comfortingly on his shoulder, but his group of friends don’t do that. Instead, he saves him the trouble by answering back right away, not forcing him to say it.

“No, she wasn’t.” 

The bartender nodded slowly, suddenly avoiding his gaze from the three familiar boys across the bar from him, “That’s uh… too bad that she wasn’t able to break the trance. Sorry, Jaebeom.” 

He knows that Mark is just trying to be nice, especially when they’re on a subject that he clearly can’t and doesn’t want to talk about, but the attempt to be comforting makes Jaebeom nauseous. 

“Well maybe he’ll find her here tonight,” Jinyoung quipped, placing a hand on Jaebeom’s back. Sometimes the latter swore that his friends treated him he had just found out he had a terminal illness. 

“I sincerely doubt it,” Jaebeom commented gruffly. 

There’s a sound from the other side of the bar from a customer who seems fed up with the conversation being had between the four of them – distracting Mark from serving anyone else. He gives a signal to them to notify them that he’ll be there in a second. “Well… come to me if you guys need more drinks.  It’s on me tonight.” 

“Thanks, man,” Jaebeom tells him honestly because he might need a couple more drinks before he gets to the state of wanting to be in this room.

Mark said a final word of “see you guys later” and heads to the other end of the bar to help customers who have been waiting. Grabbing their drinks, Jaebeom, Jinyoung, and Bambam turn around to depart the bar, to find somewhere to sit for a bit before the drinks truly begin to hit them.  

With his drink in hand, Jaebeom took a sip and reveled in the perfect balance of alcohol to burn his throat and blood to soothe it. The drink was probably the most relaxing part of his day thus far and as he looked out at the crowd, he could already tell that maybe the mixture was going to his head due to his sudden thinking that this place wasn’t all that bad.

Despite not being a club guy, if he were to go out, Jaebeom would always choose this club that Mark works out. To put it simply – it was vampire friendly. With Mark behind the counter and his “secret” supply free-flowing, it became a notoriously known place for vampires in town. If he had to guess, the attendance on an average night was probably evenly split 50/50, humans and vampires.

The humans weren’t aware of the vampires of course – for the most part.

Jaebeom cleared his throat once they’ve found a booth to sit in, “so… Bam what do you know about that girl?” 

Both Jinyoung and Bambam exchange glances before looking back at the birthday boy. The latter tried his best to conceal the smile on his face, “not much… just that she owns the café, knows Minji, and is very single.” 

For some reason, Jaebeom’s stomach does a little flip, but he wishes it wouldn’t. “S-So?” Through his stutter, he tries to remain as confident as possible, but his friends see right through his façade.

Jinyoung leaned forward until his elbows rest on the top of his thighs, “Jaebeom you can be honest with us… Why the sudden fascination with this girl? Are you sure she didn’t break the trance? Just with the way that you’re acting…” Jinyoung drifted off, not bothering to finish his final sentence, but once again looking at Bambam. It makes Jaebeom lean forward in his seat as well. 

“With the way, I’m acting? I’m completely normal. I’m fine. She didn’t break the trance and now I’m just curious about her as curious as anyone would be about someone they meet.” 

There’s the silence between the three of them until Bambam speaks up, “You didn’t meet her though.” 

It dawns on Jaebeom that he didn’t even speak to you and he wonders why does it feel like he did. Why did it feel like he knew you but didn’t at the same time? Why haven’t his mind and body been cooperating with him since this morning at the café? 

Just with the way that you’re acting…

The way he was acting? What did that mean? Was the way he was acting mean something specific? 

He feels like he blinks and thirty minutes go by. And in that past thirty minutes, Jaebeom had somehow managed to drink 6 of Mark’s “negronis.” He felt like his head was beginning to get dizzy. It wasn’t often that Jaebeom found himself drunk on the verge of drunkenness due to alcohol not affecting him as much as humans. To even remotely get to that state, he had to drink a lot and it had to be strong. 

“You feeling it Jaebeom?” Through the darkness and the haze of the alcohol, Jaebeom could barely make out the hint of the smile playing on Jinyoung’s face. He had switched to a glass of wine at some point while Jaebeom was binge drinking which had to be the most Jinyoung thing ever. Who drinks a glass of wine in a dark, sweaty club? 

He’s afraid to answer him verbally which would give his friend an obvious sign of how he was feeling. So instead he just shrugged – as usual. 

“Dude let’s get out there!” The youngest shouted, motioning his hands to the middle of the club, “dance… maybe find you a girl?” 

Jaebeom watched the people pressing up against each other on the dancefloor, moving their bodies, and drinking like their lives depended on it. He wondered if he wanted to be a part of that. Everyone out there was so full of life and vigor… he just wasn’t. He also didn’t know if he was that drunk, but bless Bambam because he didn’t need alcohol to be out there. 

For what feels like the millionth time, his mind drifted to you. Was this your kind of place? Would you come here? If you did would you come alone? With friends? Someone else? You didn’t seem like the type of person who would like this place. You seemed more like him – the observant, calm, inquisitive type who would much rather be at home with a book than at a party. 

Then for a moment, he can picture it. It’s almost like he’s in a trance – an image of you curled up on a couch – his couch – under a large white cable knit blanket fills his mind. Rather than reading, your painting with watercolors – the kind that seems to be in every elementary school classroom – and he hears a voice out of view. His voice.

“Painting really?”  

Jaebeom sees you glance up from your painting to look at him, smiling.

“Looks like I’m gonna have a lot of time on my hands so… might as well get good at something.” 

Jaebeom hears himself laugh, “Okay but watercolors?” 

He feels like he’s going to pass out when he finally hears it – your laugh. 

“Let the artist work Im Jaebeom! She needs to get good enough to live off auction house money once her paintings get sold! Shh!” Despite your words, you smiled and suddenly moved the tools away from you onto the coffee table. You lifted half the blanket off of you and patted the space of the couch beside you, “you know I can’t say no when you give me that face. Come here.”

And just like that, the vision is gone. Jaebeom feels confused because it didn’t feel like a dream or fantasy, but it felt real… it felt like a memory. 

“Hello, Earth to Jaebeom?” 

Right… dancing. Maybe dancing would help him forget whatever game his mind was playing on him.

“Yeah let’s fucking go.” 

Another instance occurs where Jaebeom blinks and everything moves so fast. Suddenly he’s no longer sat at the table with Bambam and Jinyoung, but instead in the middle of that mess on the dancefloor with everyone else. He almost feels like one of them. He almost feels human again. But as soon as that feeling washes over him, it quickly dissipates. 

He knows it must be the drinks doing all the work, because otherwise, he would have never found himself in the middle of all these people, thinking that dancing is a good idea. Dancing had never done anything remotely good for him before, so why now? To help forget? Was it going to help him do that? 

“I swear it’s like he’s not even here.” 

Jaebeom tuned back into the moment, and it’s when he realizes that Jinyoung and Bambam have been trying to get his attention this entire time.

“Sorry I was just- the alcohol you know…” He says it so quietly that he knows his friends won’t be able to hear him over the music and the millions of conversations happening around them. But he thinks that maybe it’s better that way and that it truly doesn’t matter what he says.

Jinyoung comes closer to Jaebeom, until his mouth is right next to his ear, “we were just asking if there’s anyone that you’re interested in.” 

They’re still on this idea? Jaebeom asked himself. 

Even in his drunken state, he didn’t think that finding some random girl to fuck was going to help with the emptiness he’s been feeling lately, but for the first time since getting up and onto the dance floor he takes in the people around him. As depressing as it was to observe, most people were here with someone else. 

It’s then his gaze falls onto a couple that stands far on the left side of the floor, behind where Jinyoung is standing. The two of them have their fronts pressed up against each other, dancing so closely with arms exploring one another’s bodies. The female has her head resting on the male’s shoulder as if she’s too exhausted to keep going, but can’t dare to part with him. It’s like they’re part of each other and any distance would cause them to lose all sense of themselves.

The girl lifts her head off the male’s shoulder and gives him this look that makes Jaebeom’s heart – if it was still beating – ache. She says something to him and he nodded happily in response. Even through the dim lights and large crowd, Jaebeom could see the sharp teeth inside her mouth.

She placed her head back against his shoulder, this time, however, the male had his head angled back, stretching out his neck. The girl moves in closer until her mouth just ghosts over the skin, breathing on it until the boy shuts his eyes awaiting the sting and pleasure that will come next.

Biting down against his flesh, breaking skin, the girl drinks from her partner. Even though he’s at a distance from them, Jaebeom can tell by the look on the man’s face that he’s enjoying being fed on and that it certainly isn’t his first time. 

He feels like his eyes are frozen on the couple. It’s been so long since he fed off someone instead of the stuff that he gets from his connection at the hospital. Jaebeom tries not to think about the way his fingertips tingle and his throat dries up at the thought of drinking from a warm body. The alcohol has only dehydrated him and made him feel even more thirsty – he’s afraid that going back to the bar and asking Mark for a glass of O negative exclusively isn’t going to make that go away. 

After a moment or two, the girl removes her mouth from the boy’s neck and drags her tongue over the spot where she had drawn blood from, ultimately covering the wound and signaling that she was done drinking. 

He thinks of how risky it is to do that at a place like this. Although half of the people around them also take part in the activity of drinking blooding and granted most of them aren’t paying attention to those around them – there are still unsuspecting humans everywhere. If one wrong person were to see then that could be it for this club being a haven for the vampire community in the city and that would probably be… it for vampires in this city in general. 

But who was he kidding? He was being a hypocrite because he’s for sure done the same thing. 

You’ve once again entered his mind. However, this time it isn’t an image, picture, or vision that occupies his thoughts, but instead just the idea of how you would react to who he is, what he really is. Throughout his time that he’s been undead he’s only done the “reveal” to a handful of people and even then, it took him a long time to get there. Well except for one person who ultimately was a mistake and his friends hadn’t hesitated to let him know.

With you, Jaebeom felt that you wouldn’t be the kind of person to judge him instantly based on what he was. You would be shocked of course, maybe even scared, but you wouldn’t let that cloud your judgment. You wouldn’t let yourself reject something just because it was unfamiliar. 

What the fuck was he on about? 

It must be the alcohol doing this to him. He would have to thank Mark for making them strong this time around, but also make a mental note to never let this happen again. Jaebeom was already a deeper thinker, but this was getting out of hand.

There’s a sudden grasp of Jaebeom’s elbow and he feels himself jump at the sudden touch. His eyebrows furrowed when he realized it wasn’t one of his friends considering Bambam and Jinyoung were both dancing over to his right side. 

When he turned around to greet the person who had grabbed him, he was disappointed, surprised, and annoyed all in one. It was the last person he had expected to see her, except not really because it made perfect sense. 

“Jaebeom… hi.” Ara smiled shyly at him, tucking a string of hair behind her ear and slightly looking down at the ground. He wants to groan because he knows she’s doing this because he had once mentioned that he thought it was hot when she looked innocent. He shouldn’t have ever said that.

He’s not sure what to say, because what are you supposed to say to someone you’ve been trying to avoid for the past year and a half? Jaebeom had said everything he had wanted to say to her. 

At one point in his life, he had been stupid. He had been stupid and he had abused the power that had been bestowed upon him since the day he had been turned. Perhaps one would assume that he’d been foolish with his ability just at the start – 100, maybe even 150 years ago. Instead, Jaebeom had gone through a rough patch about a year or two ago. 

The overwhelming pressure of finding his mate had started to get to him again. All he needed was someone, anyone to break the hypnotic trance and that was it. A task that seemed so simple, yet never came. So, Jaebeom had used hypnotism to his advantage, getting as many girls as he could in his bed in the shortest amount of time possible. He wasn’t proud of it and it was something he would constantly regret as long as he was ali- around. 

One of those girls… had been Ara. 

Jaebeom felt relieved when she didn’t wait for him to answer back at her greeting, “How are you? I-It’s your birthday, right? How old are you turning again? 27?” She winked immediately after her question and he wants to roll his eyes.

She was the mistake by the way. The mistake that knew about who he was. 

He doesn’t even remember how it happened, how his secret slipped, or what the circumstances of her finding out was. Part of him thinks he was just horny, thirsty, and weak, but she found out and she… loved it. 

Weirdly enough, Ara loved the idea of him being a vampire and his “lifestyle” which at first Jaebeom didn’t think too much about. He thought okay she’s taking this extremely well… better than anyone else I’ve ever told, but whatever, but then it became strange. 

She was what those in the vampire community call a “vampire fetishizer.”

He coughed awkwardly, his gaze wandering over to Jinyoung and Bambam, hoping they would catch sight of him stuck with Ara and come rescue him. Jaebeom wasn’t that lucky though, not even on his birthday, “Yeah… 27.” 

Jaebeom can’t help but look at her neck. It’s fully on display and it was clear that Ara had come here to find someone to feed on her. He had been the one to show Ara this place before he had been clued into her little… vampire obsession. 

“Well did the birthday boy get everything he wants today?” She smiled and gave Jaebeom those eyes. He feels his cock twitch in his pants and he realizes he has to keep himself in check because he’s not that weak tonight… right? 

His eyes flash to her neck again and Jaebeom feels his throat get even drier. He was so thirsty and he knows Ara would be so willing. 

No Jaebeom… No. 

“I-I uh yeah… you know got- yeah today’s been good,” he stuttered awkwardly, bringing his tongue out to wet his dry lips. Judging on the look on Ara’s face, she’s taken the action the wrong way. 

“You look thirsty Jaebeom… do you want a drink?” 

He knows what she means and Jaebeom swallows hard in an attempt to distract himself, to remind himself that he’s not that thirsty. He doesn’t need it that bad.

“I-I think I am.” 

The words come out faster than his brain can process to stop them and the part of Jaebeom that’s coherent, sharp, and aware wants to punch the weak and drunk Jaebeom in the face. 

Without a word, Ara turned from Jaebeom and began walking to one of the exits at the side of the club. He feels like he’s the one in a trance, mindlessly following her through the people, not even hearing Jinyoung and Bambam calling out to him. The only thing that Jaebeom makes note of as he follows her is Mark’s face behind the bar, giving him a tight smile. It almost stops Jaebeom. Almost. 

When they finally get outside through the exit door, they find themselves in a small alley between the club and a dry cleaner. 

Jaebeom doesn’t even get a moment to think before Ara is pushing him against the wall of the dry cleaner, her hands roaming up and down his body, her lips going to his own. They’re pressed up against each other so closely that he recalls the couple he had watched earlier. He feels sick comparing this moment now to the two of them. 

“Fuck I missed you so much,” Ara sighed seductively into this ear, making Jaebeom’s stomach churn further at her clear longing for him. Well not him, but the vampire part of him.

“Please, I need it,” she mewled. At her words, he almost puts a stop to this whole thing and has to question whether this is the right thing to do. Jaebeom wonders if this is old Jaebeom behavior – the one that just used women and threw them away later like toys, but then he remembers that this is Ara. She’s using him as well. 

It’s almost as though that old, cocky, snide Jaebeom appears out of nowhere as he says his next words and brings himself closer to her neck, “do you really need it?” 

“Yes, Jaebeom I do, please.” Ara already sounds so desperate and he’s barely done anything. He can’t help but smirk at her reaction.

“Then I guess I better give it to you then.” 

He’s about to do it. He’s about to bite down and finally relieve his thirst, his craving, but then he looks to the side of the alley – towards the street. He feels like he’s seeing things again like he’s in the middle of a hallucination or mirage. That thought is pushed away when he locks eyes with you. 

“Don’t mind me,” you placed your hands up in front of yourself, to show him you’re not eavesdropping. Your action frustrated you because it would have been much better to say nothing, but you felt yourself panic. The prolonged eye contact with him while he’s just seconds away from pressing down – bitting down? – on the girl’s next for some reason pushed you into defensive mode. Not to mention his eyes… his eyes were – red? 

The girl hadn’t noticed you; you aren’t even sure if she heard you, but she certainly noticed Jaebeom’s stare fixated on you. When she faces you, she wears an unpleasant sneer, clearly annoyed by your interruption of whatever this was. 

“Can you go?” She said, the agitation in her voice more than apparent. 

Rather than immediately leave the scene, you continued to stare at Jaebeom. It’s difficult to say why you decided to walk this specific way home despite it being so late and dark out, but for some reason, you couldn’t help but be pulled in this direction. You weren’t someone who believed in signs or fate, but it felt so wrong to go any other way tonight. That was another thing, you felt this kink in your neck that practically forced you or taunted you into looking down the alley between this dry cleaners and club. It was yet another thing about today that felt unexplainable to you as you certainly weren’t expecting the birthday boy from the café today to be in a compromising position with some girl. 

After a moment of more uncomfortable staring – something else that had happened at the café today with him – Jaebeom breaks your gaze and looks down at his feet. The eye roll and acrid look on the girl’s face don’t go unnoticed by you. 

You shouldn’t be here. 

“S-Sorry. I’ll just get going then,” you concluded, unsure why you felt an uncomfortable sickness spread throughout the entirety of your body. 

You barely knew this guy – all you really knew was that today was his birthday and that he was friends with Minji’s boyfriend. Basically nothing. Yet now and even earlier back at the café you had felt this weird sensation within yourself. Not even when you looked at him, but just being in the same presence. It had been so hard to focus on making coffee today when he was seated across the room. Every part of your body just wanted to get closer, gravitate towards him. It was fucking weird… and scary. 

The girl nodded as if to signal “yeah about time,” at the announcement of your departure. Jaebeom on the other hand, still had his eyes glued to the ground as if looking at you once again will cause him some kind of pain.

Just as you’re about to continue your trip back home, you stop yourself and look back at the couple in the alley. 

“Happy birthday by the way…” you paused wondering if it would be weird to say his name considering he doesn’t even know yours, but you shove the thought out of your mind, “Jaebeom…”    

Hearing you say his name causes that tingling feeling in his fingertips to come back and his entire mind is sent into a frenzy. He feels too awkward, too shy to look at you again, but a sudden thought washed over him. What if earlier was a mistake? What if you are his mate? With the way he was currently feeling just at you saying his name, the visions he had in the club and the nonstop place you know had in his mind, it was difficult to believe that you weren’t his mate. 

Bambam and Jinyoung had found it difficult to explain to him what it felt like to find your mate, but surely what he felt right now wasn’t normal behavior or feelings. Unless he was a psychopath. 

Tightly shutting his eyes and drawing together all his strength, Jaebeom aims to try once again to see if you can break the hypnotic trance, unaffected by his abilities. However, as soon as he’s finally ready, head turned up to face you – you’re gone. You didn’t wait for him to respond to the happy birthday message. Instead, you simply left not wanting to be a burden or troublesome to whatever it was those two were doing in that alley. 

“Thank fucking god, let’s get back to it,” Ara concluded with a final roll of her eyes, gripping Jaebeom’s shoulders to get him close to her once again. He stares at her neck, but this time he doesn’t feel anything. He no longer feels thirsty and his appetite is gone. 

Jaebeom shrugs her off slightly. The encounter with you has caused him to wake up and realize what a bad idea it would be to do this right now. He hopes that Ara won’t put up a fight – he doesn’t want to have to hypnotize her if he doesn’t need to. 

At his actions, Ara takes a step away in disbelief, as if she actually can’t believe that Jaebeom is changing his mind and no longer wants her, “are you serious?” 

He doesn’t say anything but instead avoids eye contact with her just as he had done for you. 

Snorting, she glared at him, “Fine. Whatever. I don’t fucking care. I can find someone else to feed off of me. Yours never felt that good anyway. Asshole.”

Just like that, she’s out of his life once again and Jaebeom can’t help but feel thankful. He should have never been weak enough to be dragged out by here anyway. He had just been consumed by thoughts of you, alcohol, and the couple on the dancefloor. Then again, not coming out here would have robbed him of the opportunity of seeing you again and finding out that you actually knew his name. 

That’s when it dawned on him. 

Fuck… how much had you seen? What did you see? 

Jaebeom realized that he might have some explaining to do

[vixenpen]

Neighbors (Bakugo x Miku x Hawks)

Pt. 13 Inhale/Exhale

The weight of a hand on her knee brought Miku back to reality.

“You alright, kid?“ Hawks asked, softly.

She nodded, gazing unseeingly at the passing buildings as the car shuttled them to her apartment.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how I let my love for Katsuki shape the last four years of my life. I mean, I built my entire career singing about being an independent woman and a free spirit, yet I spent the last four years behind the scenes being Katsuki’s kept woman. My apartment, my car, hell even my management was filtered through him. Shit, no fucking wonder he constantly tried it with me, I made him feel like the fucking king of my world.”

“That doesn’t make anything he did to you right.” Hawks insisted. Miku shrugged, blinking away the sting in her eyes. “Miku, look at me,” he commanded, nudging her leg. With a sigh, she turned her misty eyes to his own. “If you’re not up to this—“

“No,” she shook her head, “I have to do this sooner rather than later.” She eyed him thoughtfully, quiet for a while. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Angel, I’m not letting you walk into a lion’s den with no support,” a smile settled on his face. “I want to be here.”

Miku let out a sad little chuckle. “I feel like I’m constantly keeping you from doing your real job lately.”

“I’ve been doing my job for over fifteen years, Angel,” Hawks scoffed. “I can afford to take one month to myself.”

“Well,” Miku slumped against his shoulder with a sigh, “you’re definitely my hero right now.”

The blonde smiled, wrapping her up in his wing. “That’s good enough for me.”

The driver pulled them around the back entrance. They rushed through the back door and took the elevator to Miku’s floor.

“I don’t need much,” she told Hawks as she let them into her apartment. “Just a few...”

The couple paused as a familiar pair of crimson eyes landed on them.

When he turned his gaze to Hawks, he scowled, hands crackling with sparks.

“Get out,” Bakugo growled, glare fixed on the man, “now.”

“After you, asshole.” Hawks shot back. His wings flared, and his amber eyes glared right back.

“My name is on the lease, you son of a bitch!” Bakugo took another step forward. Hawks matched him. “The only person that shouldn’t be here is you!”

“Unlike you, Miku actually wants me here bitch-“

“GUYS, please!” Miku intervened, stepping between the two men. She held out her hands.

The men backed down, still glaring at each other over the woman’s head.

“Katsuki, I don’t want any trouble with you,” Miku sighed, “I just want to get of my things and go.”

“Dove, we need to talk.” He said, voice softening.

His tone and the familiar nickname made Miku’s lip tremble. She felt Hawks behind her, giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

“You really think she wants to talk to you after the shit you pulled?” Hawks leveled at Bakugo, in a hard voice. “I’ll leave your apartment, but only if you let her get her stuff in peace.”

“Look, asswipe,” Bakugo shot back, looking ready to spit fire, “this is between me and Miku,”

“Yes it is,” Hawks fired back, “and when she’s ready, she’ll let you know. Until then, she told you she wasn’t looking for trouble-“

“Keigo,” Miku cut in again, this time grabbing the man’s hands and turning to face him. Her eyes gaze found his. “It’s ok.” She whispered.

His bushy brows lifted in surprise and he frowned down at her.

“But-“ His eyes flicked between Miku’s uneasy, but determined expression and Bakugo’s glowering stare.

He found Miku’s eyes again.

“Alright,” he nodded, “I’ll be right outside.”

With one last warning glare to her ex, the man left the apartment, and the ex lovers were faced with one another for the first time in nearly a week.

Miku’s wings hugged in on her, it took a lot to hold her ex boyfriend’s gaze. She kept envisioning him wrapped in Kirishima’s arms. On the bed they’d shared just one night before.

After a pregnant silence, Bakugo finally spoke up.

“Are you fucking him?”

“Really,” Miku scoffed. “That’s the first thing you have to say to me? So what if I fuckin’ am? At least you didn’t catch me in bed with him.”

The blonde sighed, and his entire being went slack. He ran his hands through his spiked pale blonde hair.

“Ok, fine. You’re fucking right, ok?”

Miku quirked a brow, folding her arms.

“Miku, you have every right to be mad at me after what I did to you, but I just need you to understand that it wasn’t because of you. It wasn’t anything you did.”

Miku remained silent.

“The thing is, regardless of what you might think, I still love you.”

Her heart stalled.

“But I love Kirishima too. I fell for Eijirou—hell, when we were just kids and that feeling never went away. No matter how far he went away from me.”

He took a step forward, and Miku stepped back on shaky legs. Bakugo must have realized her unease because he paused mid-step, and let his arms fall limp to his sides.

“I didn’t sleep with him because I didn’t love you. I love you both I just-I should have...I wanted to explain it sooner, but-“

“Are you stumbling over your words because you realize how stupid they sound?” Miku cut him off, impatiently.

Bakugo looked half way offended. “It might sound stupid, but it’s true! I loved you both I wanted you two equally-“

“Ohhh,” Miku’s eyes widened as realization dawned on her. “Oh,” she breathed quietly. “You wanted us both equally...that’s what it was coming down to wasn’t it? Yet another threesome? Or maybe a poly relationship?”

Her exes mouth snapped shut, brows knitting together.

Suddenly, the pounding of Miku’s heart slowed. The pieces settled into place.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Why am I never enough for you?” Miku chuckled almost in disbelief. She wasn’t sure if it was towards him or herself. “I was never going to be enough for you was I?”

“Miku, it’s not about that—“

“Oh, I know!” She interjected, her voice rising to a harsh pitch, “it’s about you and how nothing is ever good enough for the great Bakugo Katsuki. Not your rank on the billboard charts, not your agency, not your relationship. Unless everything and everyone lines up exactly the way you want them to, you aren’t satisfied.”

“Miku, that’s not fair. I—“

“Fair?!” She barked out a disbelieving laugh. “You wanna talk about fair?! Let’s talk about me walking in on you fucking another person in the bed we shared JUST ONE NIGHT BEFORE! Let’s talk about how FAIR that was! Or how about the first and only time I let you talk me into a threesome?! Huh!”

He stepped back, Miku hardly realize that she had begun advancing towards him until he started moving away from her. Her feathers stood on end with her frayed nerves, whipping up the air around them.

“Let’s talk about how you agreed that there would be no sex unless all parties were engaged together. Then when I come back from the bathroom you’re deep dicking our third party like the key to becoming the number one hero is in that bitch’s abdomen! So if you wanna talk about what’s not fair? You got the right mother fuckin’ one!”

Her hands shook with unbridled anger, her body needed to move. She needed to vent with every part of herself.

“I was never going to be enough for you because nothing is ever going to be enough for you!” She seethed, stormy eyes looking him up and down, and she felt like she was finally seeing Bakugo Katsuki for the first time. “Not your rank, not your agency, not your relationships, and if I hadn’t caught Kirishima fucking you, I would almost say a prayer for him. Because he’s not going to be enough for you either, but since the two of you are cut from the same lying, scheming, manipulative ass cloth; you and him both can book a honey moon suite in hell; because you mother fuckas belong together.”

With that final verbal assault, Miku spun on her heel and stormed into the hallway.

A wide eyed Hawks waited on the other side along with several bystanders and neighbors who had come out of their rooms to observe the show.

“Um,” The avian spoke up hesitantly, “you good, Angel?”

“Fuckin’ peachy. Let’s go.”

Miku marched passed the gawking eyes of her old neighbors, Hawks hot on her tail.

The cool air hitting her face as she shoved her way out the door felt refreshing. The driver waiting at the car they’d left at the curb, held the door open for them.

Once she was settled against the leather seats, Miku unleashed a breath along with all of the tension she’d built verbally tearing into her ex.

Hawks gazed at her.

“Damn, Angel,” he chuckled, “after that, I think you’re my hero.”

His laughter was cut short by the woman’s lips finding his own.

The man’s eyes blew wide. His body automatically fell into the kiss with her, despite his mind screaming against the idea.

Hawks gripped Miku’s waist, pulling her tighter against his body. Fuck, she felt good...Fuck this was wrong...

“Angel,” Hawks pulled back, reluctantly, “are you sure?”

“Keigo,” Miku huffed, “I haven’t felt this sure about anything in two weeks. I’m horny and I want this, now shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

She didn’t give him a chance to answer before her lips smashed against his again.

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

Keigo couldn’t remember whining and whimpering so much in his entire life.

Miku’s pussy felt like it was choking the soul out of his dick. Every part of her body was angry and he loved it. He wanted to take every bit of the smothering, all encompassing, creamy pleasure strangling his cock, and bottle it for later.

“Ahh~ahhh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he sighed, forcing himself to keep his eyes open.

Shit she was a vision. Big breasts bouncing and ivory hair contrasting against her dark, glistening skin. Her white wings flared out—the feathers trembling.

“That’s it, Angel,” he wrapped his long fingers around her hips, one hand gripping her ass. His hips snapped up to dig deeper inside her.

Keigo’s eyes rolled. “Ride this dick, baby, let it out. Fucking ride it.”

Screams and moans and sighs fell from her mouth in the loveliest song he’d ever heard in his life.

Keigo grabbed the woman’s hand and pulled her curvy body against his hard chest, rolling his hips and deepening both of their pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” Miku mumbled, “please don’t stop~” she groaned.

“I won’t, Angel. Trust me.”

Keigo made a mental note to send Bakugo an anonymous “thank you for fucking up so royally” fruit bouquet. Because he was never getting this woman back.

(When I tell y’all I love these two)

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 3: Apdnarg is Really Hard to Spell

 Yo guys, people are getting vaccinated, the sun is parting through the clouds, and I felt so nice that I even stopped listening to quite so many throwback 00′s BTS mashups (and yet I keep clicking on these dissonant catastrophes thinking “this time it’s got to be better. This time they’ll figure it out.” and like, no. Turns out you can’t match Brittany’s Toxic with BTS’ Black Swan. You can’t do that.)

This must be a sign that things are getting better. If anything, it means my personal tastes are improving. I mean I only clicked on like 3 “Dark Academia” Playlists where I could pretend I’m some sort of spooky witch in an abandoned library with a bad music player and basic taste in classical music (like can we ban Satie from Youtube for a little while?). Hell, I might even do a prompt update to this blog!

Yeah, you heard me, I’m actually going to stay ahead of the update schedule for Yugioh Abridged (maybe. I haven’t actually watched cuz of spoilers, I just noticed the thumbnail pop up on Youtube and was like “Damn it, they came out of hiatus??? I got hurry UP.”)

Anyway, speaking of the sky parting.

I’ll have you know my bro said this is actually more like a circumcision and it was one of the worst thing I have ever heard.

We get a chance to take in this lineup of confusing and varied character designs, and Joey. who is...still Joey.

The animators probably had to hold a strike in order for them to put Yugi in the audience, lets be real. There are TOO MANY PEOPLE in this shot and one is wearing a turban where you draw every single wrap. I hope those artists charged by the line.

Tea has a subplot where she’s just very frustrated with everyone she knows. They have been traveling together for like many weeks and got trapped in a foreign country so I get it. But at the same time, it’s kind of hard to picture Tea with female friends.

Because right now you got this 12 year old child, the other duelist who does not care about anything besides cards, and Kaiba’s 3 dragon cards that we’ve all collectively decided are female.

Hell it’s almost like the writers are asking themselves why Tea is here. Maybe they forgot. There’s no more ghosts to bus, no more people to knock out with her ass with random Olympic feats. Tea’s just sidelining.

(read more under the cut)

Mokuba is a itty bit bit taller this season, and so I guess that means he can legally climb on top of the cherry picker in order to give a riveting speech.

Really says a lot about Mokuba that he is so unphased about talking to, I dunno...an entire planet of people. Kind of a shame we never see this courage from Mokuba used for anything other than talking really, really big and giving everyone around him a really hard time.

Mokuba takes a moment to dunk on Yugi Muto, as is Kaiba tradition.

And then introduce the first pair of duelists, which obviously must be between the few people in this tournament that we actually know and care about.

Thankfully, in between last episode and this episode, Yugi has figured out who his own Grandpa is. This is a relief, because Yugi is such a mess, that I was fully convinced it would take over half a season for him to recognize it. I mean how long did it take him to figure out he shares a body with a ghost? Like half a season?

Instead Yugi recovered gracefully from not recognizing his grandpa, but it’s not like he bothered to tell anyone else, so the rest of our cast is just gonna be like “Is he my hairdresser? The guy who delivers my mail? Who is this guy who made absolutely no significant changes to his outfit or voice?”

Like sometimes this show goes full Spongebob silly kid’s show and you never know when to take it seriously or not. They might be sacrificing the entire cast next episode. I really don’t know. But for now their big concern is who is grandpa??? Like an innocent card version of “Are you my Mother?”

Faced with public speaking, Yugi decides to have a melt down.

We have seen him face monsters, we’ve seen him on TV dozens of times, he’s been in multiple competitions...but give a speech? Of course he can’t do that. The kid doesn’t attend enough school to know how to do that. Them’s learning skills.

And that was when a newly assembled wife-jet spliced through the sky like a souped up razer scooter and deposited 1 fully equipped Seto Kaiba in a Buzz Lightyear jetsuit.

THE RECOVERY.

Seto always watching over his Brother, ready to save this awkward party if it kills him (and it really should, that suit is held together by two seat-belts), making sure to get on that platform before Yugi starts going off about how he’s half an Ancient Egyptian. (Ah, life before social media. You could just be hella famous and also half a dead dude and people would just not know. I kinda miss the time before I knew literally everything about everyone.)

Please admire how close those flames are to setting Mokuba’s heavily hairsprayed mane completely alight. It would be an unforgettable spectacle.

These were absolutely just random ass jet packs that Gozaburo Kaiba made to kill hell tons of people, right? Like Seto found it in the family cabin, clutched to the heart of some crispy fried corpse and was like “neat! Mokuba! I found a cool toy!” and just plucked that thing out of that skeleton’s clutches and has been flying around for months?

Like this is Seto Kaiba’s Butter Glider, right?

Seriously what type of vehicle license do you need for one of these things? RIP My ‘Seto only has a scooter license’ headcanon.

Which I’m only even thinking about because I’ve had to try and make an appt with the DMV for days to get a freakin REAL ID. I went to sleep in 2019 and I could fly on a plane. I woke up in 2021 and it’s like “Want one last screw you?” and just...can 2020 please stop screwing me over? It’s March.

Anyway, the Jet is removed soon after, so no, this is not part of his new outfit. He goes right back to his Post-S4-Trauma-Normcore.

After wrestling this competition out of his brother’s hands and confusing everyone in the audience, Roland must have gotten the memo to cut the microphone before Seto got too excited and we were quickly ushered on to the next stage of the tournament.

One sec...the BTS Mashup playlist I just clicked on did a Black Swan X 7 rings mashup and it���s the worst thing my ears have ever heard.

Holy crap. I had to actually turn down my volume. Like...Ariana Grande already has music that has way too many overlapping singing parts on it--and then lets just stick a 52-person boy band on top? That’ll fix it. Yeah. Go ahead.

Wow. Even I had to change the song and you know how much I enjoy pop culture mistakes.

Spot the Mickey but like a million times easier because it’s a Massive Dick Shaped Dragon.

Yep. That’s my grocery shopping outfit. Except maybe not a lab coat and a duel disk. Wish I had a duel disk, that would make social distancing just a hell ton earlier. Just a “Yo, only one person in checkout, please” and then bap them on the head with a propelled discuss/hologram.

Anyway, Grocery shopping/Doctor man dueled the Purple Hair Boy, and considering that Purple Hair got screen time and shook Yugi’s hand once--I think that Doctor man doesn’t stand a freakin chance.

Good. I hate him.

Also, every time he breathes he’s gonna fog up his glasses. I have experience in this area. He can’t read his own cards in the same way I can’t read my phone if I’m in the refrigerated aisle.

So the way this tournament works, is everyone has to sit in the stadium to watch the show. Kinda like showing up to a football stadium just to watch a recorded TV monitor...but then again...that is how it feels to watch a football game at a football stadium when it’s live (at least with the tickets I usually get.)

And as we watch Grandpa waiting for his competitor, we find out that his competitor (Joey) is too busy eating snacks to give him the time of day.

Why do cartoon hot dogs always have lettuce? Is that seriously supposed to be relish? Or is there a place in the world where you put lettuce on your hot dog?

Sorry, bro has just informed of his favorite hot dog order, which is absolutely terrible so I will share it with you: a Five Guys hot dog with ketchup, mustard, pickle relish, onions, mushrooms, pickled peppers, and you guessed it--topped with freakin lettuce.

My own kin. How am I over 30 and just finding out that my baby brother thinks it’s normal to walk into a restaurant with normal god-fearing law-abiding people and order lettuce and mushrooms on a hot dog?

I have fully failed him.

The rest of this episode is watching both Joey Wheeler and Mokuba have a shared panic attack while Seto does freakin nothing.

Please remember that Seto has both a jetpack and a dragon wife plane and could have easily solved this problem. But nah.

Then again, Seto Kaiba has given this crew so MANY rides, that maybe he’s tired of being the Soccer Mom for the team?

Like they don’t actually say this episode, but Seto was the one in charge of like...this entire place, do you think he made the 2 for 1 special just to get Joey where it hurts the most? Or does it actually not take any subterfuge to screw Joey Wheeler because he’s just naturally this way?

Like Mokuba wasn’t there when Joey was told “stay right here, and then we will all go together to fight Dartz” and Joey was like “I’mma save Mai from herself although she told me not to!” and then he Hella Died. But, Mokuba did see the result, AKA, Joey’s dead body being carried on the back of Tristan. Maybe Mokuba never realized that Joey died because he went out of his way to be late?

Lets do a tally of every time I can recall with my dodgy memory that Joey was threatened to be DQ’d/pretty much was DQ’d either by his own fault or no fault of his own

-When he wasn’t allowed to go on the boat to Murder Island because he was a stupid nobody kid who did not have a dueling glove

-When he wasn’t actually supposed to be in Pegasus’ tourney and was, in fact, secretly using half of Yugi’s entrance ticket the entire time

-when Bandit Keith stole the ticket that Joey got from Yugi so then Joey had to borrow Mai’s ticket although she had just used it so it really shouldn't have counted. Because, really anyone could have just piggy backed off of each other’s ticket until the whole boat went through that castle.

-When his account was hacked to get entered into Kaiba’s tourney when Kaiba very clearly told him he could not apply solely because he was Joey Wheeler.

-When he was late to his sister’s eye surgery because he got mugged by Marik’s Rare Hunters, so she almost refused to do the surgery.

-When Joey got possessed by Marik, and as Marik, threatened to murder everyone else in the tournament including both of the Kaiba brother’s who’s tournament it was, and then chained himself to Yugi Muto to throw both of them to the bottom of the ocean.

-I think there was a point when he threatened to attack Kaiba in Kaiba’s own tourney while not possessed? Like several times?

-when he got struck by Lightning and almost did not stand up fast enough after being struck by lightning, which is apparently a type of DQ in Duel Monsters.

-When he tried to save Mai from getting hit by a fireball, but then Yugi did it instead, and then so many people were standing on the dueling platform that Kaiba couldn’t possibly DQ them all.

-When he entered the restricted area of the blimp in order to hassle Kaiba into landing the Blimp, which Kaiba did not do.

-When Marik killed Joey before Joey could press the “go” button on his duel disk to play the card that should have won Joey the match.

-When he was dueling a lawyer in a digital universe but then the dice was like...weighted? So Noah had to walk over and be like “The hell is this weighted dice? This is my perfect digital world? How did you even do that?” and then Joey won because the match was no longer legit.

-When Joey yelled at Noah too much and so Noah turned Joey to stone for being a rude ass spectator

-When Mai was like “Wheeler and Valon, listen closely: do NOT murder each other” and then Joey did a murder on Valon so she was like “I guess I have no choice, I was very clear” and killed Joey straight up.

-When Joey decided to block Seto’s fireballs while Joey Wheeler WAS a playing card, somehow disrespecting both Dartz and Seto Kaiba at the same time.

-When Joey was playing cards but then got absorbed into a giant Leviathan and basically couldn’t play anymore after that.

-There’s probably hell ton of S0 stuff I just haven’t seen yet.

-This episode

And Joey runs fast for a montage of wacky things that really have no business being in a theme park. Things like this:

(remember when Bakura almost died from a rock that ended up being a balloon? It comes full circle.)

The stuff that the Kaiba brother’s think is normal and fun.

Anyway Joey fights off a bunch of hologram snakes and bats and everyone is like “Should we tell him it’s just holograms???” And it’s like wow, guys, how many times have these ‘holograms’ straight up murdered Joey Wheeler and everyone else on this cast? Too many? Because I have a google doc with so many deaths on it. 7,805,844,048, to be exact.

Anyway, he gets there with five seconds to spare and Mokuba’s like “well at least you were still entertaining while we filmed you in front of a live audience being a total spaz for 15 minutes straight, so I’ll let you go.”

Grandpa and Joey start playing, Joey completely oblivious that this is just an older Muto, while Hawkins walks up awkwardly and is like “hey guys. I’m so sorry about this.”

(welcome to my font choices, for those new here, I have to make weird font color choices to make sure it’s legible for the colorblind and also for the non-colorblind. This one is not much contrast, so I may change it up in the future, but for now, this is Grandpa Muto’s new font. I apologize to every graphic designer reading this. Please don’t tell anyone who has ever hired me for graphic design about this blog.)

What’s funny about this exchange is that after they find out that Yugi’s Grandpa is Apdnarg (HOLY my brain cannot get around the spelling for that, and I will not change it in the caps. I cannot do a ‘pdn’ ever again), they don’t stand on his side of the field or anything. Hawkins is legit Solomon Muto’s only fan during this exchange and like...damn. Way not to back your Grandpa, Yugi.

Yugi immediately strides up to Mokuba to non-confrontation-ally inform him that he has stepped over a line and Mokuba is like “what are these things you say called ‘lines?’”

According to Mokuba, Solomon Muto begged him to be in the competition so he could relive his glory days (glory days making no sense here, because the game has only been released for the past 15 years, so glory days is like...the before times that can only be referring to disgraced archeologists and Pegasus ((who is, in his own way...a disgraced archeologist, too))) and Mokuba was like

“You trained Yugi Muto, right? Hey that’s good enough for me. This drama is gold. People will eat it up. Hell yes. Don’t be afraid to abduct him a little bit. Maybe trap a couple people in a digital hellscape for a little while? Now we go by Pegasus house rules here, so fire as many lasers as you want, but just make sure not to hit anyone in the face. Oh man, we are going to be swimming in cash. Love it, Muto Sr, love it.”

But I dunno, I feel like Grandpa won’t make it past next episode. It is Joey. We kinda need him to make it past Ep 4 of the arc. If Grandpa Muto becomes the new Joey Wheeler, that will be a weird transition for this show to make.

But that’s all for today, as always, here is the link to read these in chrono order becuase there’s SO MANY that you don’t need to read backwards--don’t do it--just use the chrono tag (and I don’t know if you can add compound tags, but I did separate the Season from the Episode, so if you write S4, it should only pop up stuff from S4. I didn't’ do that to seasons 1-3 though because I just...didn’t.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

And because I brought it up: here it is, the best BTS Mashup that I found on my deep dive. Like legit--this one isn’t a mess:

Most of other ones are horrible in a fascinating way. Like I’m not even a BTS fan, I think I sort of age out of that metric, I’m just bored and quarantined. And lets be real, we all appreciate a good bop when we hear it.