#//just thinking out loud while I die from cramps lol

[lorata]

Ive been doing a Christmas reread of all your amazing work and the more I think about the centre, the more I wonder what the trainers and trainees thought about the stunt with the berries. Did they turn it off? Did they get a talk about it the following day? More generally, is there much of the games that the trainers keep from the students? I remember when creed died they were sent to bed when it got too gruesome and I imagine a similar thing with Cato

I was gonna answer this one but I wound up writing it instead lol

Fic below! CW for blood, death, Arena-gore, etc etc etc

******

“She should have killed him hours ago.”

Blake’s voice growls low in Rowan’s ear, curled tight and ragged at the edges. Pushing the urge to cry into rage and fury like the trainers taught them. Rowan gave up as soon as the door shut behind them and the trainers couldn’t see, Blake’s undershirt a sodden mess beneath his cheek.

Still, though, that’s not fair. None of this is fair. Cato’s face in the shadows, pale but for the splashes of blood, the dark hole of his mouth, screaming. Twelve girl and her boyfriend, wrapped around each other, shaking. “What was she supposed to do,” Rowan says. The words taste sour, thick with choked tears. “She’s out of arrows. He’s dying of sepsis. Is she supposed to go down there and punch them with her bare hands? Cato has armour and they’re eating him. She’d get torn to pieces.”

“Okay, but —” Blake mutters a curse into Rowan’s hair. “Yeah okay, fine. But they should send her another arrow so she can end it, then. Nobody wants to watch this.”

Somebody does, Rowan thinks, stomach twisting. The Gamemakers used fire to herd Twelve girl toward the Careers, they used mutts to drive the final confrontation, they could, if they wanted to, find a way end this now. “I think it’s a warning,” he said. “Like our first year in Res, when they made us go to bed too. We’re allowed to train and stuff but we’re not — special. You know? We die slow and painful just like everybody else. No special treatment.”

“So don’t get cocky,” Blake says in a low voice, then, “Fuck.”

He hates it here. It pricks sharp and startling, like stepping on a forgotten blade. Rowan can try to soften it, dragging his mattress into Blake’s room at three in the morning and making their shoebox dorm into an impossibly cramped — but cozy — shared bedroom, wrestling with Blake during free time and cuddling on the couch when the trainers aren’t looking, pretending this is all a really intense athletics camp for him and his friends. But they’re killing people, numbers ticking up on both sides, and with each one Blake gets a little more faraway and it takes longer for Rowan to draw him back, and the Games are getting worse and worse and worse. Since Rowan joined Residential their tributes bled to death for hours and hours — had their skulls and pelvis smashed with maces — fought monkey-mutts while having chunks torn off them for almost half an hour — and now this.

He can’t even imagine what the Quarter Quell will look like.

Blake’s breathing has slowed and Rowan’s starting to drift when a loud hammering at the door jars them both. Rowan jerks up, slams his head hard into Blake’s jaw by accident as Blake bites back a yelp. “Up, up,” calls the trainer from the hallway. “I know you’re both in there, we don’t have time to pretend. It’s happening, now!” Rapid footsteps, shouts and door-pounding continue down the corridor.

Rowan shoots Blake a guilty look, scrambling out of bed and pulling on his uniform. “We gonna be in trouble later, you think?”

“Depends on how this goes, probably,” Blake says, grim.

They race into the gymnasium in time to hear the cannon fire.

Rowan skids to a stop, bile rising. And okay, they’ve seen a lot of ugly deaths, but this — it’s not even a person anymore. This — this is meat. Already there are sobbing thirteens being escorted out of the room, exit paperwork ready to go. A pile of fresh vomit steams in the far corner, but they can’t run for towels because this is endgame.

No trumpets. Cato a mutilated lump of flesh and still the Games go on. “Predictions,” calls out Livia.

“There never was a rule change,” says one of the Seniors, arms crossed. “It’s all for ratings. They’re going to make them kill each other.”

Jolted, Rowan mis-times his sit and turns his ankle, thumping to the floor in an awkward heap. No one notices, the others still piling in under the trainers’ impatient directions. Blake settles down a careful six inches away, which Rowan notices with a sharp squeeze in his chest. Onscreen the Twelves are whispering frantically, until —

Everyone turns to stare at the Senior who called it. He shrugs, not smug at being proven right, more like resigned. “They let Cato and Clove believe it was for them,” he says. “Come on. Had to be fake right there.”

“That’s mean,” says one of the thirteens, who hasn’t cried or vomited so they’re still here, but jury’s out for how much longer with an outburst like that. “Why would they make a rule like that and take it back?”

“Sorry, is this the everyone eat ice cream and hug it out games, or the Hunger Games?” This time it’s Russet, from Rowan’s year. He’s a good friend but the Centre draws out his mean streak, and this has been a rough couple of days. “Because they can. Because it’s more fun that way. Because the whole point is we go in there to die horribly on camera while people eat popcorn so that not everyone who’s in there dies too soon to be entertaining.”

And that’s Russet gone as well as the thirteen and the room is silent, save for the sound of all their ragged breathing. “Enough,” says Livia, sharp with warning, but they were right. It was horrible to let the tributes hope — both Twelve and Two. It was horrible to leave the Twelve boy by that riverbank for days, slowly dying of blood poisoning. Horrible to let the mutts chew on Cato for what, twelve hours? And now, horrible to ask the Twelves to kill each other after everything.

Livia stares them down, and whatever restless energy Rowan sensed surging flattens out. “Strategy,” she says. “You are Twelve. What now?”

Twelve girl aims her bow at the same time as the boy throws his knife into the lake. “Oof,” someone mutters. “Too bad he’s bleeding to death, that was a great strategy.”

“You are Twelve,” Livia repeats. She doesn’t say it, but everyone knows she means Twelve girl. “The boy is the only thing giving you audience appeal and you just threw all of that away. How do you walk away from this alive?”

“She can’t,” Blake says. Rowan holds himself very, very still. “She can’t, there’s no way. They’ve been a package deal from the start and he was holding her up. Giving her humanity. He’s going to sacrifice himself for her and she’ll be here alone.”

“Then she has to earn it,” Rowan says. The words scrape his throat. Twelve girl screams for the boy to take up the bow and shoot her. “She’ll spend the rest of her life proving she was worth the cost. But she — can’t — kill him. And he can’t make her. He has to do this, for her.”

Twelve boy tears the bandage from his leg, his pant leg soaked black with blood. Livia nods. “A high price,” she says. “And not one that would work for any of you. But for an outlier? Yes.”

They wait — but the Twelves are still arguing, fumbling in pockets, and — wait. Wait. The drones can’t pick up what the Twelves are saying, but even so the girl’s eyes are dark with challenge, finding the closest camera and staring at it, unflinching. They raise the berries to their lips.

(“Holy shit,” whispers one of the fourteens; another socks him hard in the leg without looking away.)

And then — trumpets. Livia’s entire posture sharpens. “Back to bed,” Livia announces, over the panicked voice of Claudius Templesmith. “All of you.”

“But it’s breakfast,” says one of the youngest thirteens, barely made the cutoff, only to wilt under the worst glare Rowan’s ever seen Livia give.

“Bed,” she repeats, like the thud of an axe through a fallen tribute’s spine. “Now.”

A few hours later the trainers call them out for breakfast. All the televisions in the commissary sit blank and silent, the screens reflecting Rowan’s face and the occasional shared glance before he and the other candidates hastily look away.

A tense, awkward week of pretending to train until everyone gets called back for the post-Games interview. Love story, they say. The twelves were so in love that they couldn’t bear to live without each other. But Rowan knew what he saw, the steel in Twelve’s eyes, the Gamemakers’ alarm. The Capitol ran a crooked game and Twelve outsmarted them — and now she has to stay alive.

“Obviously she’s lying,” says one of the Seniors, cynical. “I mean, it’s her cover, but —” They all jump when Livia jabs a finger.

“No. Stop.” Livia wets her lips. “As far as you’re concerned, those two are in love and that’s the end. Got it?”

“But —”

Livia marches across the room and strikes the girl hard across the face. “Got it?” she says forcefully.

The girl sits up straight, squaring her shoulders and tossing her head back to look Livia in the eye. “Got it,” she repeats, precision-sharp, a red splotch spreading across her cheek.

Livia returns to the front of the room, faces them all with her hands clasped behind her back. “The Games are over. We have a lot of training to catch up on. I don’t want to hear another word about it, am I clear?”

Rowan echoes ‘Yes, sir’ with the rest of them, but the ground beneath his feet has already shifted. 

When the trainers call him in to talk about Blake and his priorities it’s the easiest test he’s ever failed. Rowan closes his eyes on the blood and the screams and the berries and exhales hard. “I want to go home.”

[honajoong]

Everywhere With You

pairing: ??? x reader

genre: ??? to lovers, PURE FLUFF.

warnings: reader has somewhat of a fear of flying, lots of sulking LOL.

word count: 1.5k (even though it seemed much shorter in my eyes)

an: Heavily took inspiration listening to Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac <3 it took me a while to fully think about how to do this…. but i persevered and REALLY thought about how to thank all my friends for what they’ve done this year. I love you guys, @junniieesbby @boba-beom @flwrseon @lovejoshua I’m glad i could be a part of this secret santa :( and to the person i had gotten for this year….

Whoa!

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Scanning your ticket, you walk into the empty hall of the craft with wide eyes. It was your first time flying, after all. Standing behind a couple who were probably being too open with their PDA, you can’t help but look around, the plain beige walls shaking as the aircraft rumbled lowly. Glancing down at your ticket, you sigh gently at the arranged seat you chose; seat A24. Hopefully that meant you had the window seat. Stopping at the entrance of the plane, you look down at the small sliver at your feet. That definitely wasn’t a good idea. Snapping your head back up, you greet the flight attendant that stood in the plane as you step in.

Looking around, it was like a train wreck. Crying babies, people being unable to find their seat. You felt like you could simply perish. After being bumped by various backpacks and suitcases though, you finally relax in your seat. It was right near the restroom luckily, and you let out a huff as you set your bag under the seat in front of you. From the looks of it, paying extra to check in your suitcase was a wise decision. Putting in your headphones, you scroll on your phone as you wait for the chaos to die down.

That is, till someone taps you on your shoulder, making you jump a bit. You immediately take out a headphone, looking up at who had tapped your shoulder with wide eyes.

“...Is this B24?” The male asks, and you nod quickly. You watch him sigh in relief, quickly sitting in the cramped row with you. He grabs his jacket from his bag, quickly throwing it on as he lightly kicks his bag under the seat. You raise an eyebrow, but quickly shake your head as you put your headphones back on. After what seemed to be an eternity of waiting, the flight attendant announced that everyone had boarded the plane, and they were ready to take off. The announcement alone made you nervous, so you unconsciously grabbed onto the tiny armrests that were holding you snug into the seat.

The movement immediately caught the attention of the man sitting next to you, and he raises an eyebrow at the sight. He smiles softly, shaking his head as he suddenly takes off his jacket. You both pay attention to the flight attendant as she goes through the safety procedures, but what really threw you off was when she had suggested looking through the safety guide in front of you. Her mentioning what to do in the possible case of crashing had nerves running through your entire body. Crash? Oh god, no. You definitely didn’t want that image in your head. When the flight attendant has finished her presentation, you groan quietly as you feel the plane begin to jerk backwards.

Simply glued to the window, you watch as you pass other planes. Some were smaller, and some were much bigger. Damn, can these things fly around the world? Unbeknownst to you, your seat buddy was also peeking outside of the window in curiosity. I mean, it's not every once in a while that you get to see your city in complete darkness from above… But you wondered if the red eye is even worth the view at that point. Turning to face forward, you jump a bit as you realize the closeness of the man next to you. With your jump, he also flinches quite hard which makes you hold back a laugh.

“Sorry… I just… wanted to see what it looked like before we took off—” His sentence was interrupted by the sudden loud whirring of the engines below, and you immediately grip onto what you thought was the armrest with the force of a thousand bulls. Feeling the plane suddenly move at a rather alarming speed in your opinion, you tighten your grip even more somehow. However, you hear a slight whine from the person next to you… Oh god. You look down at your nails digging into his arm, and you immediately let go. When you try to speak though, you feel your voice slowly fade from existence as you stare at him. All you can do is look like a fish in the moment as you feel the plane slowly lift. But when you no longer feel the weird sudden sickness in your stomach, you snap back into reality.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry!” You gasp out, and all he can really do is chuckle. “I had no idea, oh my god I just got so nervous because the speed and—“

He holds up a hand, shaking his head as he says; “It’s alright, I have a feeling I’m going to have to get used to it anyways.” With that sentence, you let out a breath that you honestly didn't know you were holding. With a nod, you slowly look back out to the constantly shrinking city lights below you. Well, at least you got the bad part out of the way… For now. As you ascend slowly, you watch as the cabin lights dim, which in turn makes you feel a bit sleepy. You did have to wake up early for work this morning, and you never had a real chance to rest till now. You felt your eyes begin to droop with the lull of the engines, which were at a semi quiet hum.

When you had finally fallen asleep on the shoulder of the man, he couldn’t help but chuckle. You were just *so cute*, and he honestly couldn't get enough of it. Pulling out his phone, he ended up playing a small game of trying to eat other snakes, while trying to stay the biggest. However, when he had gotten eaten, he threw his hands up in frustration, which in turn woke you up with a jump.

“Jay, what the hell was that?!—” You quickly clasp a hand over your mouth, giggling as your boyfriend next to you sighs. You just blew it.

“Y/N! You were doing so well!” Jay whines, his head thrown back a bit as he throws his giant tantrum. Without realizing, he also had gotten eaten for the second time in the midst of it all. You point at his phone, and all he does is sulk while mumbling something about how he’ll ‘never be the biggest’. In return, you pout, arms crossed as you shake your head.

“Hey, I can’t help it when you play that stupid game! You always get too into it, and get mad when you lose! Remember when you played it in the car, and almost made me crash—“

“—Okay, that's enough of that.” He quickly interrupts, taking your hand gently before interlocking his fingers with yours. He gives a reassuring squeeze, before giving the back of it a light kiss. These small actions that he did always made your heart flutter. It was why you had even fallen for him those three Christmases ago.

When you first met, it was in a situation exactly like this one. You both were flying to the states to celebrate Christmas with your families, and he held your hand the entire flight while talking about how he had spent it with some of his friends the day prior. Right then and there, you knew you had to keep contacts with him after that extra long flight. You thanked the higher beings when you had gotten that text only minutes after everyone had deplaned.

‘Hey pretty girl :)’

…And that was the start of it all, you two acting out how you had first met. Except you still had the unrelenting fear of flying. That wouldn’t pass any time soon. As if it was a cue, he could sense your tensed shoulders, and in return held it a bit tighter. You glance over at him, and are immediately met with his gummy smile. The smile that you absolutely love and adore, the one that he knew would lift your spirits.

“So, we have Jake joining us for Christmas this year. He said he was picking us up at the airport as soon as we grabbed our bags.” He hums, using his free hand to trace little circles along the back of your hand; another tactic to calm you down. He knew all of the right things, the small things, and everything in between. While he was babbling about all the plans you two had for the week, you couldn't help but rest your head onto his shoulder again and quickly close your eyes. As soon as you do this, he simply ceases, and rests his head on yours. You immediately relax, and Jay puts on a simple christmas movie to keep himself busy. This Christmas was going to be special, more so than the others.

Especially as he fiddles with the velvet box neatly tucked into his jacket pocket.

This Christmas was going to be special, and so will the rest that you two will share for the rest of your lives.

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

SAPH I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOYED <3 Thank you for being such an amazing friend and person, i wrote this on behalf of the journey that i will be taking in 2024 to visit you. You’ve been such a great support, and i honestly don’t know what i could do without you. I LOVE YOU SAPH MUAH MUAH

[diverse-hearts-ocs-a]

//Hmm- still on the fence about adding Decarabian and/or Osial ~ and maybe an oc based on xiaos original design

[hurting-fictional-people]

Sooo, I think this is turning into an actual story guys. I have ideas for where this can go and one of them needs names to work so... yeah they are becoming OCs... Whumpee, Caretaker and Whumper are getting names next part because I’m indecisive and need to think on it lol but for this one, since I’ve been giving them more thought and shape: they are all men and the pronouns are ‘he’ now, okay? 

CW: needle mention, medical setting, infected wound, restrained and collared, held hostage, lots of angst because this is what this whole thing is about in the end, isn’t it?

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot (please tell me if you want me to stop or start tagging you <3)

Continued from here

-

There was a time when Whumpee could move and not feel pain because of it. When it didn’t hurt to do so much as breathe. There was a time when time didn’t blend together in an endless daze of please help me, it hurts.

He knows exactly where the pain comes from, that spot a knife had gone inside of him… days before? Weeks? But by now, it has spread along his entire body, and it all just hurts so much.

If only he could press his hands against the wound, see if it looks as ugly as it feels. If only he could curl up and sob. If only his hands weren’t tied above his head and he could move at all, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

His fingers have gone cold and numb what feels like hours before. He shifts and squirms but it only makes his wound burst in pain and barely anything for his aching arms. After some time, the pain is in his legs as well and if only he could move, just for a moment, it would be so much better. 

His head hangs awkwardly to the side, unable to move more than a few inches, kept close to the wall by the metal collar around his neck. He can’t sleep with it, because each time he does, his head hangs and he wakes up suffocating. He can’t move, because it hurts. All he can do is hope Whumper doesn’t forget he’s here.

So Whumpee just stares at nothing, wondering if the pain will ever fade, and only when it gets truly unbearable does he allow himself to think of Caretaker.

He’s left him here to rot. As he did before, as Whumpee should’ve known he would. 

But this pain is a lot deeper than the stabbing could ever be, so Whumpee closes his eyes and tries to focus on breathing through the molten lava seeping into his bloodstream.

Time passes, or maybe it doesn’t, and Whumpee can’t focus on anything for long enough to know anything but pain. 

It’s a strange combination, the desperate need to move his cramped arms, restless legs, but also the bone-deep weakness he feels, the certainty that even if he wasn’t chained to the wall, he wouldn’t have the strength to do more than curl up on the floor. 

It all comes back to murmured pleas for mercy that are never heard, until even his voice is raw and aching and he just goes back to leaning limply against the wall and relishing the few minutes he gets of sleep.

Eventually, his tiny cell fills with noise and his eyes flutter open to find Whumper towering over him.

He’s only half awake, the other half refuses to swim out of the deep waters of troubled sleep, but as if through a thick layer of glass, Whumpee manages to discern a few words.

“…infection,” someone says, somewhere distant. “Shit, get the doctor, I–“

He only truly wakes up when the chains are unlocked and he’s hauled up, the only thing keeping him standing the unforgiving hands gripping his arms. People keep speaking, but he’s so consumed by pain that all Whumpee can hear is his own desperate whimpers as they move his inert body. 

-

Whumper isn’t smiling when Caretaker enters his office, for once.

“Took you long enough. Do you have what I asked for?”

“What you bribed me for, you mean?” Caretaker bites back, clutching the drive filled with information his team never expected him to leak. “Let me see Whumpee first.”

“We had a bit of a situation while you were gone.” Whumper sighs, getting up and nodding toward the door for Caretaker to follow. Two security guards walk behind them, and Caretaker’s stomach churns when he sees the others standing at each corner they pass. If it was only two, he could take them down. Surrounded as he is, his only hope is to play the game long enough for Whumper to slip up first. “So, apparently having his wrists chained above him wasn’t particularly good for a nearly closed wound. It got infected.”

The world stops for a moment, pauses in horror. And yet it keeps moving, somehow – Caretaker’s legs keep driving him forward, even if his heart turns into stone in his chest, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing with fear.

“He’s fine, though,” Whumper continues as if his last words hadn’t frozen Caretaker inside out. “I’ll let you see him, as a treat, before you give me the drive, just because this was not supposed to happen.”

There are no words, no nothing as Caretaker keeps walking, the motion automatic, hammering heart the only sound he hears.

They enter the medical wing Whumpee had been in before he left, and stop in front of a white door. Whumper is frowning when he opens it, but Caretaker only has eyes for the tiny figure lying on the bed.

He was always so stunned by how big Whumpee looked, even though he was always a few centimeters shorter. Loud laughs, passionate ideas, all love and wildness that could never be contained – it all made him so much bigger than anyone else.

But under white sheets, a needle stuck to his vein, and beeping machines all around him, Whumpee looks so small. Vulnerable. Alone.

“See, still breathing,” Whumper huffs behind him.

“If I give you the drive, will you let me take him away?” The question is low, whispered not to wake Whumpee up. Or maybe not to reveal how tight his chest feels. 

“We’ll talk about it later. Just hand it over and I’ll even let you hang around for a while.”

It isn’t reassuring at all, but Caretaker doesn’t even look at Whumper as he hands him the device, eyes still locked on each shallow breath Whumpee takes.

“Don’t do anything stupid. The room is filled with cameras and my men will be waiting outside,” Whumper warns before leaving.

Caretaker is beside the bed before the door is even fully closed. 

His eyes travel down each centimeter of Whumpee’s body, head to toe, from the way his eyes move from side to side underneath his eyelids to the padded restraint around his right wrist to the slight bulge of new bandages covering his stab wound. The wound Caretaker is guilty of.

He sits at the very edge of the bed, leans closer. Whumpee’s hand is cold when Caretaker holds it, but his cheek is warm under his fingers.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, tracing his thumb along Whumpee’s jawline. “I’ll get you out of here, okay? And then I’ll never let anyone touch you again.”

He closes his eyes to keep the tears from falling as the words bubble up, escaping the dam Caretaker had built so long ago, through the cracks Whumpee created with each trustful smile, each careful touch and disarming gentleness. The cracks Caretaker did his best to close, thought he did for a while. And then he woke up to Whumpee tied behind his back and found out his heart had never stopped bleeding for him.

“It should’ve been me. It should’ve never been you. I was the one supposed to be hurt, not you. Never you. I am so sorry, Whumpee, so, so–“

A sharp intake of breath makes Caretaker’s words die in his throat.

He cracks his eyes open and freezes when he finds Whumpee’s green gaze locked on him.

They stare at each other, one instant that lasts one thousand, a million words Caretaker wishes to say but knows he won’t. And then Whumpee’s eyes wander around the room, aimlessly stopping here and there, going back to Caretaker, half-lidded and lost somewhere else.

“I ha– I hate it,” Whumpee mumbles, “that you’re still… in m-my dreams.”

Its low, weak, and Caretaker side-glances the bag filled with clear liquid dripping into Whumpee’s veins before looking back at him and smiling faintly. “I know. It’s okay. I deserve your hate.”

“No. Not you. I hate me.”

“What?”

Whumpee blinks slowly, so slowly opening back drug-addled eyes that strain to focus on Caretaker’s face, and leans his cheek against Caretaker’s palm. “I hate me… for still… still… caring.”

And just like that, the world stops in its tracks again. A sob gets caught between Caretaker’s teeth, and he just stares at Whumpee as either exhaustion or medication takes him away again, and his head lolls on the pillow.

When Whumper comes to pick him up hours later, Caretaker is still standing on the same spot, still holding Whumpee’s limp hand, still staring at the peace sleep brings to that beautiful face. The peace he hasn’t seen since Caretaker himself took from him.

He doesn’t complain when he’s told to leave the room. Caretaker simply squeezes that tiny hand that hides under his and obeys. 

They go back to Whumper’s office, and Caretaker strains to focus on now, here, not the man lying on a hospital bed one floor above.

“Good visit?” Whumper teases.

“I did my part. Now let us go.”

There’s a weight inside of Caretaker’s stomach, and it is tied to that sleeping figure, to that lost gaze that’ll never leave his mind.

“I have a new offer.”

He knew this was coming. Caretaker hoped it wasn’t but he knew it from the moment he looked at Whumper’s ambitious eyes.

“I want you to work for me.”

A humorless laugh escapes his lips, and Caretaker crosses his arms over his chest. “In your dreams. Now do your part and let me grab Whumpee and go.”

“Um no, I don’t think I will.”

“Why should I trust you when you haven’t been true to your word twice now?”

A snorted laugh, a raise of brows. “Isn’t it obvious? Because I have Whumpee. He isn’t in shape for traveling right now, y’know? I’m doing him a favor keeping him here, giving him top-of-the-line medical care. You should be thanking me.”

“What do you want now, Whumper?” Caretaker sighs. Exhaustion is curling around his very bones, helplessness snaking up his throat, and he is just so tired of this. Of being sad and scared and guilty, even if he deserves every single drop of it.

“Go back to your team and feed me relevant information, and I’ll keep making sure that nasty infection doesn’t hurt Whumpee anymore than it already has. Do as I say, and he stays alive. You know the drill, don’t you?”

Caretaker doesn’t have the willpower to do more than close his eyes and fall into a chair, waiting to hear the details of one more betrayal he has no way to avoid. 

-

It makes no sense, truly, but when Whumpee wakes up, he is surprised to find himself alone. There was no one in the cell with him, there’s no reason to expect someone to be with him in the hospital-like room, but a part of him expects a warm hand on his either way.

Pieces of dreams float around his mind, barren rooms with monsters waiting in the dark, a crimson puddle of his own blood, familiar and unknown faces blurring together. And the one that felt the most real, the one dream he holds close to his heart even if he doesn’t want to.

Caretaker’s face, worried eyes, gentle touches, soothing and painful all at once. Murmured words, tearful apologies. A dream he wishes was real, knows it isn’t.

Whumpee closes his eyes when tears blur his vision, and brushes his fingers along his jawline in a phantom touch he hasn’t felt in so long but wishes he had.

(next)

[imagineurfavs]

Nu’est - Baekho A-Z

“I knowww you’re in hiatus but would you consider a Baekho A-Z ??? Your last couple asks have me thinking fr”

----------

A - Aftercare

Boy gets so cuddly afterwards, he just wants to lay together until the end of time lmao, so it’ll probably take him a minute to even think about aftercare. But he’ll probably run a bath or shower for you

B - Body Part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner)

on himself he likes his arms, they’re big and strong, he loves that he can hold you close to him no matter what position yall are in. On his partner he likes their legs, esp when you wrap them around his waist when he’s on top of you...oof...nice.

C - Cum

Likes the intimacy of cumming inside you, but if that’s not an option, he likes to cum on either your stomach or your chest. He’ll glance at it for a second, looking super proud, then rush off all bashful and shy to go get a towel lmao

D - Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

Sometimes he cries when he cums lol. Not bc he's like overly in his feelings or anything like that, like it's just a reflex that happens sometimes and he has no idea why. He won't be like full on bawling either but like you'll look over at him and just see his eyes all glossy with like a single tear drop on his cheek djdjd

E - Experience

It’s a tricky one lmao. I feel like he’s just got a natural way with people lol, he’s a pro at wooing anyone. However, he doesn’t strike me as much of a one night stand kinda guy. Idk, I’d say he’s got a fair amount of experience, but from relationships, so like...its moreso, he’s done it a lot, rather than he’s done a lot of different stuff...yknow??

F - Favourite Position

Anything where he can keep your face close to his and maintain close eye contact. He likes being able to whisper sweet nothing's in your ear and kiss you freely whenever he wants

G - Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous etc)

I wouldn't say he's humorous per se, but he's just smiley and sweet lol. He likes to keep the atmosphere warm and loving, the last thing he wants is for you to feel uncomfortable in his company

H - Hair (how well groomed are they)

He’s not like, immaculately clean shaven, but he’s not super wild either lol, he keeps it at a middle ground.

I - Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Mans a total romantic, even in times when yall are in a rush and it's just a question of chasing that climax, even then he's just got words of love flowing non stop out of his mouth

J - Jack Off (Masturbation)

Almost every day, if not every day lol. It’s something he just kinda does without thinking. Like, he’ll be in bed, winding down, relaxing...then without knowing it his hand is in his pants lmao

K - Kinks (one of more of their kinks)

Now, this is where it gets a lil controversial lmao. I dont think Baekho is a dom. Not at all. Just bc he’s a big guy doesn’t mean he’s dominant lol; Baekho is the truest of switches you could ever see. 100% switch lol. He literally just wants to please, he just wants to make you feel good. As for actual kinks, I dont think he has that many that are that out there. He likes some light marking (giving & receiving), edging (receiving), and maybe a tiny hint of a femdom kink.

L - Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere where y’all can move about freely, that's literally his only requirement lol. He doesn’t wanna be cramped up in a tiny spice, which also means no car sex lol sorry lads 

M - Motivation (What turns them on)

One of the easiest men to rile up on the planet lol. Three things that get Dongho all hot and flustered lol:

1. tell him how much you love his body. (bonus points if you tell him how hot he looks working out and that you appreciate how hard he works for his body lol)

2. Show the tiniest bit of skin, he loves it when you wear a shirt that sits a tiny bit higher than usual and he can see your lower stomach when you move.

3. Literally just hold his gaze for 0.5 seconds longer than usual lol

N - NO (something they won't do, turn offs)

I feel like literally the only thing he’s unwavering on is his stance on three(or more)somes. He’s really not a sharing kinda guy. He doesn't wanna bring someone else in and potentially mess up y’alls dynamic. It’s something he cant even bear thinking about.

O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He can be a bit relentless when it come to giving lol, he'll hold your hips down with all his strength as he just totally feasts on your core. Deliberately makes the most lewd noises tryna get you to blush.

When receiving, boy he is LOUD, he'll be talking you through it like "fuuuuuuck yes baby, I know your throat can take all of me" "your pretty lips take me so well" he'll grab your hair and hold your head still as he cums, gets the fattest smirk on his face is he sees his load dripping out the sides of your mouth too,,,,,ooof. But then once again, he'll get all shy and bashful afterwards lol like he can't believe what he just said to you didjdjd

P - Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc)

I don't really think he has any set pace lol it can vary every time. I feel like it'd depend on the vibe of the day, like, if it's been a while and he's missed you beyond belief then it'd be much more slower and sensual. But if it's like,,,gotta chase that nut, then he can get pretty fast. I don't think he'd ever cross over into being rough, but his thrusts can get like, firm and...sharp lmao

Q - Quickies (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

Yes yes yes. Loves them. They usually tend to be a lot more giggly and fun than regular full sessions too lol

R - Risk (are they down to experiment, do they take risks?)

Eeeeeeh, a little bit. He's a bit of a baby in terms of pain so I feel like anything that could maybe hurt, even if it's something as simple as spanking or light restraints, could take a little convincing lol. He is definitely down...mans just needs reassuring he won't like die lol

S - Stamina (how many rounds can they go, how long do they last? etc)

I mean, he’s a healthy guy lol, he’s gonna have super good stamina. I feel like there’d be literally no stopping him, he can go for however long you need him too. You might wanna get as much as you can out of him though bc once he's done, he's done for the night lmao

T - Toy (do they own toys do they use them on a partner or on themselves?)

He doesn’t own any himself, but that’s not to say he’s not open to experimenting with any. He just wont do it of his own volition lol. Hes thought about getting some numerous times though but he just doesn't wanna be the one to bring it up

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not really a fan, he just doesn’t understand it lol. He’s not big on teasing or being teased; he's not good at holding back when he's the one *trying* to tease you, and he gets so so fidgety and antsy when being teased lol. He’d much rather just get to the main event lmao

V - Volume (how loud are they, what type of sounds they make)

Lots of loud sighs and choked out groans. He can get quite high pitched, which he’s honestly a little embarrassed of lol. He gets louder slowly the closer he gets to climax, he’ll attach his mouth to your neck as he starts to get louder; tryna muffle any sounds bc he doesn't wanna hear himself like that lmao

W - Wild Card (a random headcannon)

Okay. This is where this whole thing started lol. Baekho is not a dom, he’s also not a sub either. BUT, he get’s so unbelievably turned on by watching you take control. Like he just thinks you have this aura to you when you’re the one pinning him down and getting what you want from him. It’s literally the only time he ever enjoys edging too; he'd never do it to himself, nor does he do it to you, but for some reason having you edge him, having himself be totally at your mercy is just...omg

X - X-ray (what's going on inside those pants)

Average/maybe a tiiiny bit below average in terms of length, but pretty veiny and he’s got some nice girth lol

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive)

I feel like it’s either one extreme or the other lol. It’s either he can’t keep his hands off you at all for days on end, or he’s just busy occupied with other stuff and his mind doesnt even go in that direction...there’s no way of knowing sksks

Z - Zzz... (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As long as he's happy that you're both fully satisfied, he'll be out like a light almost instantly lmao

♡♡♡♡♡

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (7)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Sorry for the delay! I either have my shit together in real life or fandom life, but never both at the same time lol. Anyway, I got endless joy from reading all your reactions to last chapter’s clifhanger (sorry not sorry). I didn’t respond to comments because I don’t trust myself not to spoil anything, but just know that I appreciate every single one of your theories. Also, many of you were at least somewhat correct. (Yikes am I becoming predictable?? Gotta fix that.) This chapter ends at a good stopping point, so I’m going to switch gears and write a couple chapters of other fics (which I encourage you to read!!) before coming back to this. But fear not! I have big plans for the future of this fic, and I’ll send you all down the theory rabbit hole soon enough. xoxo

*****

The world narrows until Mac is only aware of two things: his racing heart and the fact that Riley is gone. 

The blood is fresh, but there’s no sign of a struggle—no sign of anything, really. The windows are locked and unbroken, the bedroom door is half-closed the way it always is. Not a single thing is out of place…except for Riley. 

So, where the hell is she? 

His body goes taut as the worst case scenario plays in his mind. Please don’t be gone, Mac silently begs. Please. 

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. So when the shower turns on with a loud thunk, Mac flinches. Hard. Without thinking, he scrambles out of bed and lunges for the bathroom door. 

As he bursts through the door, Mac’s awareness shifts to three things: Riley is alive, she’s naked, and she’s screaming. 

“Mac!” She hisses, glaring over her shoulder. If looks could kill, he’d be very, very dead by now. At least her back is to him. “What the hell?” 

Mac barely hears her over the roaring in his ears. He scans her naked body, trying and failing to be professional as he scans for injuries. 

His eyes land on the blood smeared between her thighs, then the thin stream rolling down the inside of her knee. As understanding dawns on him, Mac holds out his own blood-covered hand in silent explanation. 

Riley winces. “Sorry about the blood.” 

Mac still feels a little disconnected from his body when he says, “I was afraid you were dead.”

Embarrassment floods Riley’s face. She begs,“Can we please finish this conversation when I’m not naked and bleeding all over the floor?” Mac’s gaze automatically flicks to the drops of blood between her feet, but he doesn’t move. His limbs are still frozen in place, the way they’ve been since he found her. “Get out!” Riley snaps. 

His own embarrassment finally taking hold, Mac stumbles backward, tripping over the door frame on his way out. 

While Riley showers, Mac busies himself by stripping the bed and washing the sheets and blankets. Not just because it needs to be done, but because it’s easier to process emotions when his hands are busy. It feels like he just experienced the entire spectrum of human emotion in the span of three minutes, and now all these untethered feelings are floating around in his head. As he works, Mac examines them one by one. 

He woke up this morning wanting to cuddle with Riley. Not just wanting to, but comfortable enough to act on that desire. 

When his hand landed in the blood, his brain immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. He is deeply afraid of said scenario. 

Then panic set in, as he desperately tried to prove himself wrong. 

Followed by relief at finding Riley and learning the blood was not from an injury, but from a normal bodily function. 

Then embarrassment, because he freaked out and barged in on her over something he could’ve deduced for himself if only he’d just stopped to think. He’s supposed to be smart, so why couldn’t that big brain of his, as Jack would say, figure this out? 

The answer to that question, at least, comes easily: Because it’s Riley, and he doesn’t always think with his head when it comes to her. 

For example, while he’s mortified at seeing her naked, a part of him wishes she’d been facing the other direction. 

Mac starts the washing machine and decides to do the mature thing and hide in the kitchen for the entire foreseeable future. He spies Harley lying on the couch, gazing out a window. “And where were you for all of this?” he asks. “A heads-up would’ve been nice.” 

Harley stares at him for a few seconds before resuming her vigil, and Mac hears the message, loud and clear: You’re on your own. 

When Riley still hasn’t emerged from the bedroom long after the shower turned off, Mac suspects that she’s hiding too. He doesn’t blame her. 

It’s late morning by the time the laundry is finished, and Mac can’t hide any longer. Clutching the still-warm sheets and blankets to his chest, he cautiously ventures into the bedroom. Riley is lying on the bed with her knees tucked up to her chin, and a pang of sympathy echoes in Mac’s chest. Her eyes are closed, but Mac doubts that she’s actually asleep. 

Dropping the sheets on the floor, he asks, “Are you alive?” 

Riley groans. “No.” 

“Could you please go die on the couch then, so I can make the bed?” She groans again and mumbles something incoherent. “Also you’ll feel better if you eat something.” 

“No I won’t.” She sounds like a whining toddler, and Mac has to stifle a snort. Still, a bit of the awkwardness dissipates. But only a bit. 

“Yes you will. I know you, Miss Hangry.” 

“I’m not hangry.” 

“Says the one who skipped breakfast.” 

“I was hiding from you.” 

“So was I,” Mac confesses. Riley cracks a single eye open at that, just in time to see his cheeks heat. “Trust me, I am way more embarrassed than you.” 

It takes him a second to notice that she’s blushing too. “Wanna bet?” 

Mac starts putting the fitted sheet on the unoccupied side of the mattress. “I didn’t see anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Nothing he hasn’t seen before, anyway, but Mac wisely decides to keep that part to himself. “Victoria’s secret is still a secret,” he adds with a wink. 

Riley rolls her eyes. “You did not just say that.” 

“Made you laugh, didn’t it?” Mac gives her a shit-eating grin, and despite her best attempt at hiding it, amusement slips through the cracks in Riley’s unimpressed facade. 

“Whatever. We don’t have to do anything today, do we?” Mac raises his brow at the question. For all the years he’s known Riley, she’s always been more of a ‘suck it up’ kind of person, not a ‘stay in bed’ person. So her question is surprising, if not mildly concerning. 

“Nope.” He pauses. “Are you okay? This isn’t like you.” 

Riley rolls onto her back. “Dude, it feels like someone took a cheese grater to my insides.” 

Mac winces at the mental image. “Ouch.” 

She pauses, as if contemplating her next words before she says them. “I got a new IUD a couple months ago, and this one makes my cramps way worse. I used to be able to ignore them, but this sucks.” 

Not knowing how to reply to that, he squeezes Riley’s ankle in a way he hopes is reassuring. Mac flicks his gaze up to meet hers and finds Riley already looking at him. Her gaze is warm and steady, but Mac can see hints of pain clouding her dark eyes. He thinks it isn’t fair that her body turns on her like this. 

"I'm getting back in bed the second you're done making it," she warns. 

"Go right ahead." 

Riley wanders into the kitchen, and, true to her word, reappears right when Mac finishes smoothing down the comforter, with Harley at her heels. To Mac's surprise, Harley jumps on the bed, waits for Riley to get situated, and then tucks herself into Riley's side. A smile blooms on his face. Riley puts an arm around Harley, pulling the dog into her stomach before moving to scratch her head. When Harley licks Riley’s face in return, Mac suddenly gets the feeling he's watching something private. 

Satisfied that Riley is in capable hands, Mac leaves without another word.

*****

Beneath the weathered wooden conference table, Harley’s head rests on Mac’s foot as she dozes through the Patriots’ council meeting. When they arrived, no one looked more put off by their presence than Conrad, but, true to his word, Ethan welcomed Mac and Riley with open arms and encouraged their participation. A murmur of dissent snaked through the room, but no one openly questioned Ethan’s decision to include them. 

Twenty minutes in, Mac would rather be anywhere but here. The “meeting” so far has been very little business and mostly rehashing some fishing trip a few of the guys went on over the weekend. Mac is holding out hope that it won’t be a complete waste of his time, but said hope dwindles each time someone exaggerates about the size of a fish. 

There’s nothing interesting to look at in the room, save for Riley. No art, no plants, no wall of guns. Not even a clock. Just drab gray walls with no windows. And he doesn’t dare study any of the men for longer than a second or two each. Making an enemy is as easy as looking at someone the wrong way, and Mac has no desire to antagonize the other members of the Patriots…at least not yet. 

Extricating his foot from beneath Harley’s head, he’s just about to make an excuse about needing to use the restroom when Ethan’s phone rings. After quickly checking it, Ethan excuses himself from the meeting with a curt nod to Conrad. Mac understands the look; he’s given and received it countless times himself, after all. Permission to continue without him. Because despite his tendency to toe the line, Conrad is still Ethan’s trusted lieutenant. The exchange is subtle, practiced, and apparently insignificant to the other men at the table, who are somehow still talking about fish. 

When the storytelling finally lulls, Conrad clears his throat. "Let's start with recruitment. Report." No nonsense, right to the point. Maybe he’s tired of the fish conversation too. 

As Conrad steers the conversation through the various items on the agenda, Mac realizes two things. 

One, the Patriots are far more organized than he originally made them out to be. This is no grassroots startup, and their plans go much deeper than protests and parking lot shootings. 

Two, Conrad is careful not to let anyone share too much information, instead asking everyone to give their detailed reports in individual meetings. And it's more than just trying to keep him and Riley in the dark. It's almost as if…almost as if Conrad doesn't want anyone to see the big picture besides himself. 

Mac decides to take his theory for a test drive. "I know I'm new here," he says, "but why have everyone meet with you a second time individually instead of sharing their full reports now? Wouldn't that be a better use of time?" 

Conrad sneers. "On the contrary, boy, why would I waste everyone's time making them listen to information they don't need to know?" 

It takes every ounce of Mac’s self control not to roll his eyes. 

Beneath the table, Riley grips his knee, nails digging in through his khakis. Mac wants to tell her that he’s thinking the same thing she is, but he can’t. The best he can settle for is a brief touch on her arm before needing to do something with his hands to distract himself from the way his skin burns under her touch. He elects to drum his fingers on the table, mostly to push Conrad’s buttons even further. 

If Conrad’s furrowed brow is any indication, it works. 

“Do you mind?” Conrad says with a pointed glare at Mac’s hand. 

Feigning ignorance, Mac replies, “Mind about what?” 

“The tapping.” 

“Oh!” Mac makes a show of sliding his gaze down to his hand before flattening his palm against the table. “My bad.” 

Looking none too pleased, Conrad moves on, but to Mac’s surprise, the man sitting beside him leans in to whisper, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He's not the one to piss off." His words are tinged with genuine concern, and under different circumstances, Mac would appreciate the advice. 

"He's a man," Mac whispers back, "just like everyone else at this table." Minus Riley, of course. 

The man presses on. "The previous occupant of your seat was shot point blank for asking too many questions." Mac's brows raise at that. "You're sitting in a dead man's chair." 

Mac pockets that little detail gratefully, but he hesitates before ultimately heeding the man's warning. He fiddles with the button on his sleeve, impatiently waiting for the meeting to end so he can share his theory with Riley. 

What Mac doesn't anticipate is Riley beating him to it, pulling him aside before they're even back in the car. "Conrad's compartmentalizing information," she says in a quiet, confident tone. 

They’re too exposed to be having this conversation. Mac nervously checks for eavesdroppers, but doesn’t spot any. Deeming it safe for now, he replies, "Yeah I thought so too." 

"He's made himself essential. No one else knows how everything works." Riley pauses, eyes catching on something over his shoulder. Barely audibly, she adds, "An asshole and a control freak." He doesn’t need to turn around to know she’s looking at Conrad, not when she has a white-knuckled grip on Harley’s leash. 

"So if we eliminate him…" 

Riley nods in understanding. He’s controlling everything in an attempt to rise through the rankings and seize power. So if they eliminate Conrad, the whole organization may very well come tumbling down in his wake. 

Now they just have to figure out how the hell to accomplish that. 

"What if we help him?" Riley suggests, reading Mac’s mind. 

"What?" 

"We've spent all this time looking for the weakest link, but maybe…maybe we need to attach ourselves to the strongest one." A stray curl falls in Riley's face, and as she brushes it behind her ear, Mac absentmindedly wishes his fingers were brushing it back instead. Riley continues, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we should help him become more powerful than he already is. That way, we can do as much damage as possible when we take him out." 

A man they don't know walks by, and Mac nods in greeting. Waiting for the man to move out of earshot, Mac drops to one knee, giving Harley a good scratch. She wags her tail and opens her mouth in a smile, clearly enjoying the attention. When the coast is clear again, Mac says, "You just made this op so much longer, but I think you're right." 

Riley snorts. "What, is there somewhere else you need to be?" 

Gazing up at the woman before him, the answer is obvious. Not unless you're coming with me. 

*****

In the gray hour before dawn crests over the world, Mac wakes to something tickling his nose. He exhales sharply, trying to blow it away, but the tickle persists.

His face is pressed into the nape of Riley's neck, and a deep inhale causes a few strands of her hair to go up his nostrils. Reaching up to brush Riley’s hair out of his face, he hesitates right before his calloused fingers brush her skin, afraid that even the barest touch will shatter the moment. As soon as Riley wakes, he'll have to hide behind his mask of indifference, and Mac isn't ready to do that yet. 

For as long as he dares, Mac allows himself to imagine what it would be like to wake up with Riley for real, in his own home. He sees her curled in his bed, sheets pulled up to her chin, hears the soft, steady cadence of her breathing, smells the lingering traces of perfume on her skin. 

Riley stirs in his arms, and the vision blurs, moving out of reach. Mac grasps for it, but it evaporates into nothingness as she settles back against him. 

He shifts his focus to the very real sensation of Riley’s body tucked into his. Her back to his chest, his leg slotted between hers, her ass pressed against his—

Shit. 

Mac jerks backward, trying to put as much space between them as possible before Riley wakes and realizes just what she scooted back against. 

Except, in his haste, Mac doesn’t realize there’s a third party present until his foot slams into the small, warm body lying at the foot of the bed. Guilt washes over him at Harley’s ensuing yelp. 

Awake, Riley mumbles, “Did you just kick the dog?” 

“It was an accident!” Mac insists, sitting up. He turns his attention to Harley. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You can come back if you want.” He pats the bed in a way he hopes is reassuring, but Harley merely eyes him with suspicion before slinking out of the room. 

“I can’t believe you kicked the dog,” Riley says, still half-asleep. “She finally slept with us, and you betrayed her.” 

“I told you it was an accident!” 

“Betrayal.” 

Mac rakes a hand through his hair. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?” 

“Nope.” Riley sighs, rolling back to her side of the bed, and Mac isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Or maybe a little bit of both. “You better go apologize.” 

Mac scoffs. “And let you take over the entire bed while I’m gone? I don’t think so.” 

And there it is. The closest they’ve come to acknowledging the evolution of their bed-sharing habits. Particularly the newfound lack of sticking to their respective sides. If he’s being honest with himself, Mac doesn’t know where to go from here. He wants to see it as a sign of things changing between them. Obviously Riley is aware of their precarious positioning, but based on her casual relocation, she doesn’t see this any differently than the dozens of times they’ve slept squished in a small space together in the past. Whether she’s aware of the other thing, she doesn’t let on. 

“Your funeral,” Riley says, pulling Mac out of his head. 

Right. 

The dog. 

The dog whose forgiveness he needs to earn via extra breakfast. Maybe extra dinner too. 

Sighing, Mac goes after her, cursing his inability to get things right with either of the females in this house. 

.

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[pluto-fics]

Promise (M)

One Shot | GrungeGuitarist!Jimin x Reader 

(established relationship)

Genres: fluff, romance, smut

Rating: 18+ (M) for explicit sexual content

Word Count:  9,062 words

Warnings: tooth rotting sweet fluff, profanities, mild dirty talk, smut, light nipple play, dry humping, fingering:fem receiving, unprotected sex (stay safe), slight creampie, softdom!Jimin

A/N: This is a re-upload after I have taken down the original for editing purposes and strongly inspired by the 200414 MiniMoni VLive, because Jimin looked great and I’m weak for that man. You may need to see a dentist after reading this because this is pure teeth rotting fluff, my friends. Jimin is a true softie for (Y/N) here lol.

You still remember the first kiss you shared with him. That one night, when you met on the playground in your neighborhood, sitting beside eachother on the swings as Jimin told you about his big dream for the first time. He wants to succeed with his band. He dreams of a future as a well-known guitarist. And back then you had told him that you did not think of it as a silly wish. You believed in him back then when your teenage self agreed to stay by his side, and you still do to this day. This was also the moment in which he knew – he was madly in love with you.

Looking back on your last years of dating Jimin, you could not deny what a cliche rebel couple you were. Instead of asking you to prom, your boyfriend skipped the whole event with you and his bandmates to break into the football field of your school that night. But you did not regret it one bit. The memory of your friends chasing eachother on the field and lying in the grass to look up at the starry night sky was as vivid and precious to you as no other. That same night you saw the first shooting star of your life while holding Jimin’s hand and begging him to tell you what he had wished for. Yet, he never told you, to this day. Instead, he said “Let’s stay like this forever” and gave your hand a meaningful squeeze with the reflection of the stars above shining in his eyes. 

His words from this night turned into a promise you both made and kept.

You were there for each one of his band’s gigs in small bars and scene clubs. You were there for many of their band practices, too. And now you are there to witness their first big breakthrough as the opening act to an increasingly popular indie band.

Holding Taehyung’s bass guitar, you watch his attempt to fix his hair. He must have applied half a can of hairspray by now and you doubt that even a single strand would budge during the show. However, Taehyung wants to be safe. “This is our big deal! The most important performance we have ever had yet!” He wants to give it his all, just like the other members. 

You turn and look at Yoongi, who is sitting on the couch in the corner of the small dressing room while tapping his drumsticks onto his thighs in concentration. Having known him for as long as the other boys, you quickly realized that he is wearing his “lucky charm” – his signature worn out leather jacket. He wore it to their very first gig, wore it daily during finals week and he also wore it that fateful night you all skipped prom together. The memories place a nostalgic smile on your lips.

Meanwhile, Jeongguk keeps pacing around the room while mumbling the lyrics to their latest song. He may be the youngest of them all, but he is a real multi-talent. It's almost like magic, the way he is so damn good at everything if he just wants to succeed at it. Eyeing his guitar on its stand next to Jimin’s, you can't help but wonder where your boyfriend, the main guitarist of this band, has gone to. He had left the room about 20 minutes ago, saying he was going to the toilet real quick, but he has not returned since. “Thank you,” Taehyung smiles as he takes his bass from you. “Is Jimin still gone?” He then asks. Nodding, you already make your way to the door. “Yes, but I’ll go check up on him.

Striding through the cramped halls backstage, you make your way to the men’s toilets. And just when you raise your hand to knock on the door, it opens to reveal the man you have been looking for. 

“(Y/N)?” He was clearly startled. You sigh in relief. “It’s been over twenty minutes, just what in the world were you doing in there?” you ask, sensing that something was wrong. Seeing the deep red tint on his bottom lip, you can already guess what he was doing. Biting his lip when he got nervous was one of his habits. And judging by how red it was, he must have been gnawing on it like crazy. Since he does not respond, very aware of how easily you could read him and his body language, you decide to ask straight away. “How bad is it?”

You almost see the heavy weight on his shoulders as he says “Very bad… Baby, I can’t mess this up. Not this time. It would ruin everything we’ve worked so hard for.” A compassionate smile finds its way to your lips. “You’re always worrying so much. Jimin, you’ll do great. I am one-hundred percent sure of that, alright?” Noticing the doubtful glimmer in his eyes, you continue “You’ve worked so hard for this very moment. Don’t dread it, enjoy it. When you guys go up on that stage, I want you to relish that moment. Because this is going to be the first time of many more to come.”

His lips slowly curve upwards as he nods slowly, “Alright.” You smile and pull him into a hug, feeling the fast rhythm of his heartbeat as he too holds you close. “No matter what’s going to happen, I am and will always be your biggest fan” you say. Chuckling, he moves a hand to gently cup your cheek and look at your face. “I know. Thank you for being here, (Y/N).” A second passes in which you smile at eachother, before he leans in to kiss you. 

“Ugh, are you serious? We’ve only got ten minutes to go through the setlist before we go on stage, so move your ass back into the dressing room before it’s too late!” 

The two of you immediately part at the sound of Yoongi’s aggravated voice behind you. You know that he did not mean to be rude, yet the sharp sound to his words really shocked you for a second. Seems like Jimin was not the only one who was nervous to the bone. You see Jimin sending you an apologetic smile before rushing after his hyung. Shaking your head, you make your way to the stage already, not planning to interfere in this special moment your boyfriend and friends would share right before the show now. You could still wish each one of them good luck when they go up there, after all.

From your spot next to the stage you had a perfect view not just on the boys, but on the audience as well. And you could not feel any prouder of your friends. They had introduced themselves a little awkwardly, but as soon as the chorus to their first song started the audience was going completely crazy. They loved it. And you could tell how much joy the boys felt in that moment. 

As the songs got heavier, the movements of the crowd did the same. They even formed a small moshpit at some point and tried to shout along to repetitive phrases of the last song’s chorus.

It was clear that Jeongguk did not lie when he told the audience how much he loved them for being so welcoming and wild. And so did the rest of the boys, bright smiles painted on their sweat covered faces. 

You almost could not believe your eyes as you watched them on stage. They looked like absolute rockstars already, the sweet boys you have known for such a long time suddenly looking so grown up. Finally, your eyes lock on your boyfriend, cooly jumping onto a platform at the front of the stage to play his solo. As he throws his head back while playing the longest note of his solo, you can see the sweat running down his neck and strands of his once well-styled hair sticking to his skin. In this moment, he looks like the very definition of ‘sinful’, reviving memories of the last time you had seen him like this － in a wholly different context. But these thoughts have to wait. 

When they finally play the last tunes of their performance, the crowd cheers loudly – the sound of hundreds of people cheering for your friends and filling your heart with immense joy and pride. You too are cheering as they come down the stairs, sweat dripping from their brightly smiling faces. “That was incredible!” Taehyung exclaims with a voice of true ecstasy. Jeongguk nods, patting his friend’s shoulder as the two of them give you a high-five while passing you to get back to the dressing room. You greet Yoongi with a big grin and loud “You did amazing!”, happy to see him beaming one of his rarest gummy smiles back at you as he slings one arm around you in a rushed hug while thanking you before he follows the others. 

The main act is already approaching to go on stage as you almost tackle Jimin the second he gets off of the stairs. “You were unbelievable! I told you you’d do well!” you cheer as he laughs wholeheartedly at your enthusiasm. “I feel like I’m in heaven, did I die on stage?” he asks as he hugs you tight, his entire body still trembling due to the rush of adrenaline. 

You laugh and kiss his cheek, then his nose, honestly just aiming at random spots on his face as you do so. “I’m so proud of you, Jimin” you say as he’s grinning widely. 

After a few minutes of basically shouting praises and cheers at one another and then making fun of Jeongguk for suddenly crying tears of happiness, the boys watched the concert from beside the stage with you. They even were asked back onto the stage for a few songs during the encore, which the audience clearly enjoyed just as much as the performance prior to that. On your way to the hotel you guys would stay at for the night, you checked the boys’ band profiles online and could not have been any prouder when you saw the follower counts continuously rising on each one of them. 

The other band had invited your friends to an after party at the hotel’s bar and after an hour or so you decided to let them have this moment to themselves. Especially since you were already getting tired anyway. So you went to Jimin’s and your room instead. Honestly, you could not believe it yourself either. The four men you have been supporting for more than five years, basically since the day they decided to practice and start a band together, finally are so close to their goal. 

You take a quick shower and wrap yourself in the hotel’s bathrobe before drying your hair and starting your basic skincare ritual in front of the mirror above the sink. As usual, you get lost in your thoughts while massaging the cleanser into your skin and rinsing it off, thinking about how much has changed within the past couple of years. You first met Jimin in high school, both of you being friends with your classmate Jeongguk and naturally meeting eachother at his parties or during lunch breaks. That was how you made friends with Taehyung and Yoongi, too. Even though you did not share any classes with even one of them, you became friendly with them very quickly. 

This friendship held for many years. You graduated, went to college, shared many memories together – and here you are today.

While you were so lost in your thoughts and washing your face, you did not hear the door to your hotel room as someone entered. So when you come out of the bathroom, you nearly have a heart attack as you see someone rummaging through your boyfriend’s suitcase. Until you realize that it is Jimin himself. “Hey” you greet him casually, a little confused by why he is here and not with the others. Turning around, he beams a smile at you, greeting you back. “Did your after party end already?” you ask and take a seat on the edge of the bed as you watch him collect his sleepwear. “Not really” he says, “I just didn’t feel like staying much longer.”

You are about to ask if something had happened. But then Jimin already stands in front of you with a grin and kisses the top of your head, one of his hands dropping to your exposed thigh. His thumb is slowly rubbing circles into your skin as he looks you in the eyes. “And I thought we could celebrate in a different way tonight…”

There it is. That signature smirk on his lips as he awaits your reaction, just like the smirk he would send your way every now and then when he was on stage earlier. He knows that you like the attitude he holds on stage, that you watched him and his every move closely.

And quite frankly, this is not the first time you are feeling this way. After the boys’ very first gig you nearly jumped Jimin the second he came off stage. You would be embarrassed, but who could blame you? Whenever your sweet boyfriend steps on stage, it is as if he takes on a different persona. His cute eye smiles and giggles get replaced by a sinful smirk and bedroom eyes. Even the way he walks or pushes his hair back looks so different on stage in comparison to the man you know off stage. 

You mirror his smirk as you nod and cup his face to pull him in. “Sounds great” you say before kissing Jimin and feeling the upcurve of his lips against your own. His hand on your thigh glides down to the back of your knee as his other hand softly pushes you down by your shoulder. He leans down to capture you against the mattress with your leg on his hip as the kiss grows heated. 

Wearing only the flimsy bathrobe, you moan into the kiss when you feel his crotch moving into your own, the rough material of his ripped jeans eliciting a raw sensation against your exposed skin. Detaching his lips from yours, he moves on to your jaw and neck, following an imaginary trail as he leaves wet kisses on his way down. Your hands wind through his messy hair as the back of your raised thigh is being kneaded by his hand. 

“Seems like you planned for this to happen tonight” he accuses you with a smirk before untying your robe, wanting to see your body that’s hidden underneath. “Tell me, did you enjoy today’s show?” You nod and help him with the knot in your belt. “Use your words, baby” he then says, stopping your hands by engulfing them with his as he looks at your face expectantly. “Yes. I enjoyed it a lot” you say, not trusting your voice with the way his dark eyes lock with yours. 

He nods once, satisfied with your answer and places a kiss on your collarbone as he lets go of your hands and opens the robe. “Did you like my solo performance, too?” he asks, kissing down to the valley of your breasts and sinking his hips to yours again, pressing the prominent bulge in his jeans against your pulsing core. You sigh in pleasure as you whimper. “Yes. Very much.” Now kissing around your left nipple, he moves a hand to your other breast, stimulating your right bud by softly rubbing and twisting it between his fingers. Holding onto his shoulders and arching your back with a mewl, you press your chest to his lips and he sucks on your bud before licking around it. “What part of my performance did you like best, baby?” he asks, his voice nearly a whisper before he continues to work his magic on your sensitive chest. Moaning at the stimulation, you grind your hips against his and say “I liked it all… But your h-hip thrust during “Lie” nearly had me drooling.”

He chuckles and glances up at your face. “You mean this one?” He asks and pushes his clothed crotch into yours by re-enacting the skillful bodyroll he had shown on stage. You moan and nod, wishing for him to finally take off some of his clothes too. “Yes!”

Caressing your sides, he kisses down your stomach before sitting up and looking at your exposed body while licking his lips. "Just how much did you enjoy the show? Did you get wet?” His face does not look as playful as it did mere seconds ago. Instead, his gaze looked almost serious, yet filled with lust. Feeling your cheeks burn, you guess you must be bright red in the face as you avert your eyes and nod bashfully. “I couldn’t help it…” you admit quietly. 

When you hear a rustling noise above you, you see Jimin pulling his shirt over his head, the delicate silver necklace with the letters of your name dangling from it getting caught in the fabric for a second, dropping the shirt somewhere near the bed before he leans down once again. His face now just a hair’s width away from yours, he doesn’t give you the chance to fully admire his toned body when he smirks. “If that turned you on already… Then how wet are you right now?” he asks, sounding as if he expects you to answer when his hand slides down your stomach, over your pelvis to where you wanted it most. You whimper at the soft touch of his fingers, your core feeling so sensitive after the rough thrusts of his jeans clad crotch. 

“So wet. Just for you” you moan, remembering how much he likes to be reminded that he is the only one who ever makes you feel this way. Jimin likes to be in control during sex. He loves it when you're obedient, like you are his and his alone. Humming at your response, he slowly moves his fingers up and down your slit before drawing small but firm circles around your clit. Gasping for air at the sudden pleasure, you hold onto his arm. Nearly fearing that he might move it somewhere else if you don’t hold it in place. He knows your body like the back of his hand, as you do his. Both of you know every sensitive spot, every little mole and every trick on the other's body, understanding how to make the other feel good. “You’re such a good girl for me, huh? Only having eyes for me, getting this wet only for me…” His voice is deep and his fingers relentless as he stimulates your clit until your thighs begin to tremble. “Do you want me to make you cum like this, baby?” He asks you and inserts a finger into your dripping hole, his lips now next to your ear as he places a kiss on your temple. You moan louder, shaking your head. “No… I want more. Jimin, please!” 

He smirks and adds another finger, scissoring and curling them inside of you.  “More? How much more do you want?” He asks “More, like this?” and pumps them knuckles deep into your pulsing core before he adds a third finger, stretching you nicely and rubbing your walls to find the spot that has you seeing stars. 

The moan of his name that leaves your lips sounds like a beautiful melody to Jimin’s ears as he kisses your cheek. “Please, Jimin! I need you. Need you so bad” you beg, desperately wishing for him to just fill you up with his cock instead.

His fingers push into your most sensitive spot, rubbing it with every following thrust of his fingers as it has you arching your back off the mattress and mewling in delight and frustration all at once. “Please, Jimin!” you repeat, clumsily trying to unbuckle his belt. Chuckling, he pecks your lips and whispers an “Ok” before pulling his fingers from you and locking eyes with you as he moves them to his mouth, sucking them clean one after the other with a low hum. Your breathing picks up as you watch him and you pull him closer by his shoulders. The feeling of his lips on yours is what occupies your mind completely as you share a messy but passionate kiss. Opening his belt and jeans before pushing all of it down his thighs, along with his boxer briefs, Jimin doesn't let off of your lips until the very last second. 

You smile at your lovely boyfriend before following the trail of fading marks and bruises you had left on his neck two days ago down, only to swallow at the sight of his fully erect dick, the tip an angry red as it’s leaking pre-cum and the shaft a width that stretches you so deliciously every time. “Fuck” you groan as you drop your head back, craving the feeling of him inside you so bad, it’s ridiculous.

“Spread your legs for me, baby. I want to see you” you then hear Jimin say, as his hands already hold onto the back of your thighs to push them apart. You bite your lip in anticipation and open your legs wide, watching the way he takes in the sight. “Look at the mess you’ve made… And we’ve barely even gotten started …” he groans, watching you gush and clench around nothing in anticipation of what’s to come. He holds onto his shaft and moves it up and down your folds. A movement that has both of you sighing in pleasure. When he aligns his dick with your wet hole, he moves to hover above your face again and your arms wrap around his neck as he pushes into you slowly. Inch by inch, he stretches you further, the drawn-out moan leaving your throat and your clawing hands in his black hair a clear evidence of the blissful feeling it elicits. 

“Fuck, you’re always so tight for me, baby. Feels so good” Jimin growls through his teeth, eyes closed as his forehead rests on yours. He is holding back the urge to fuck into you right from the start, you can tell. He bottoms out, dropping his head into the crook of your neck and waiting a second or two for you to get used to his size. When you move your legs to wrap around his hips, he gets the sign and slides out until only the tip is left inside before thrusting all the way back in. You moan in unison as he keeps up a steady rhythm, repeating this motion over and over again. 

When his pace reaches a high, his hands move to your thighs, pushing them further up towards your chest to reach deeper into you. You release a broken moan of his name at that, feeling his dick deep inside you as he fills you with each of his thrusts. Sinfully wet sounds of skin hitting skin and your shared moans fill the room. “Shit, I’m getting close” he pants out inbetween lustful grunts and groans.

You nod, implying that you too are nearing the end, unable to use your words as the only sounds leaving your throat right now are euphoric moans and whimpers. Keeping up his fast rhythm, he moves a hand down inbetween you both to rub his thumb around your swollen clit in quick movements. “That’s it, cum for me (Y/N).” You almost shout out when you feel the coil in your lower belly snap as you come undone, your body shaking and your eyes rolling back to the point where all you see is white. 

Riding out your orgasm, you feel Jimin holding on your waist tightly and increasing the pace of his now erratic thrusts until he cums with a broken moan, buried deep inside of you as he fills you with several spurts of white. Resting his head on your chest, he pants in synch with you as you both try to recover from your climax. Your hand glides through his hair on the back of his head mindlessly, caressing and massaging his skull until he moves to pull out and fall down beside you on the bed. 

“Was this the kind of celebration you’ve been thinking of?” you ask, turning onto your side to cuddle into his bare chest. His arms instinctively wrap around you, holding you close and caressing your back. “No, this was better” he says with a cocky smile and kisses your forehead. “And so much better than any after party, too.”

You close your eyes as you listen to his heartbeat slowly going back to it’s normal pace. “I’m really proud of you, Jimin” you then mumble into his skin. He chuckles. “Did I fuck you that good?” Frowning and pinching his arm, you say “No!”, resulting in a genuine laugh from him. “I mean because you’re so close to fulfilling your biggest dream. You’ve come so far, baby.”

His amused smile becomes gentle as he nods and moves his hand to stroke your head, his hand smoothing down the nest that has formed on your head. “Do you remember the night on the football field?” he suddenly asks, his voice almost a whisper. Opening your eyes before you nod, you smile softly. “Of course…” Playing with a strand of your hair, he goes on. “That night, we saw a shooting star. And I wouldn’t tell you what I wished for.”

You grumble. “Yeah, I’m still curious.” Chuckling once again, Jimin says “Back then… I didn’t wish for our band to succeed. I didn’t wish for a chance as a musician. I didn’t wish for anything that I’d usually wish for.” Listening, you move your head to face Jimin. “All I asked for was for you to stay with me. All the way.”

Feeling the beating of your heart increasing in pace and your eyes starting to water, you were left speechless. “But then… We made that promise. I kept my wish from you, thinking it wouldn’t become true if I told you. That’s so ridiculous, isn’t it?” he says, smiling in shame when he realizes how superstitious this was. You shake your head, giggling quietly. “It is ridiculous, because you definitely wasted a chance for a wish there.” you say, looking him dead in the eye as he mocks offense. “I promised to stay with you forever. And I’m not one to break promises, ever.” Extending your pinky finger, you hold it up to your heads.

“Alright, same for me” Jimin smiles, now an amused curve to his lips rather than the bashful smile from before, and links his pinky with yours before refreshing the seal of your old promise with a kiss to your lips. 

"You know... This is the cheesiest thing you have ever said after sex." you suddenly deadpan, grinning at your embarrassed boyfriend's blushing cheeks as you both break out into quiet giggles a second later.

Thank you for reading this One Shot. Let me know how you liked it! 

Find more fics like this in my Masterlist and follow @pluto-fics​ to be updated about future uploads. Read you soon!

– Pluto 🌑

[jjpmoans]

painting your galaxy | ijb [M]

w.c : 1.7k+

warnings : soft smut, love-making, really, not heavy smut. It’s a first for me too.

a/n : A continuation from the previous painting the galaxy, the fic for @fairygyeom‘s birthday. I wanted to make part 2 of it which has sexual contents so people can choose not to read this one instead of merging both of it together. Also i am glad that @jj-nyoung​ helped me by beta-reading, i laughed at how much grammatical errors were there. Hope yall enjoy reading this! My first ever soft smut.

Your back hits the cold duvet and you shiver just as Jaebeom places you carefully on the bed. He follows, caging your frame with his own as he drops kisses all over your face and presses his lips onto your skin. How you managed to come home safely is questionable, judging by the way Jaebeom had his mind clouded with sexual thoughts all the way home.

You are surprised that he can still function well.

A kiss on your neck, followed by a tongue lapping at a particular jugular vein had your mind back to the man on top of you. His hand wanders aimlessly, trying to feel every crook of you as though he doesn’t have enough. His calloused hand finds your hip, pressing it down to keep you staying still.

Your hand finds his hair, tugging at the black locks after he mouthed your clothed breast and made your nipple harden under the layer of clothes. The sex tonight feels different, far from your usual adventure. By now Jaebeom is supposed to be ripping you out of your clothes because as much as the man is patient with you, he is not in bed.

“Jaebeom.” You manage to squeak a word when he pops the button of your jeans, slipping his hot hand under the tight material. His touches burn you, more than anything when it slides just across your sex and slips further, cupping your now- probably- drenched core.

Jaebeom is still lapping at your skin, he had your shirt bunched slightly higher than your chest. Your breasts however, are spilling out of your bra, courtesy of the impatient Jaebeom, whose open mouth is devouring your now abused skin. “God, princess.” 

“Your nipples are so hard.” He drags a tongue across your taut bud and hollows his cheeks to suck, the pressure stimulating your bundle of nerves and sending shivers to your spine. The blunt tip of your nail scratches his scalp in return, wanting him to stop foreplaying and enter you instantly.

“Jaebeommie.” You whine, making him stop in his track. “Please, inside me. Please?”

Begging should do it. He should bend his will for you, as this is your birthday. He ought to grant you whatever you want.

“Take off your clothes, princess.” At that you shoot up, tugging the materials off you harshly and throwing it aimlessly to the floor. Where they’ll land, you’ll think about it later.

Jaebeom, however, is amused at how fast you comply, even stripping down to nothing in just a few seconds. He never saw you being so needy, but not that he is complaining. Instead he shreds down his own clothes, leaving it as a heap of bundled clothes on the floor.

“So..needy.” he lets his hand graze your thigh, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You know he’s trying to delay it; he wants to take his time. As much as he is impatient, he can also be the most patient person when it comes to sex. “Aren’t you so needy tonight?”

You nod, not even trying to deny it. You are needy, you’ve been excited since you made out while stargazing. It is still an amusement that he didn’t take you right then and there because honestly, he looks like he can.

“Please Jaebeom. Inside me.”

He hums, the pad of his thumb finally finding your throbbing clitoris. One swipe and you jolt as an immediate reaction to his touch. You have learnt that your body is absolutely sensitive to touch when you’re horny, you seem to buckle every time Jaebeom plays with either your nipples or your clitoris. Either way, you have no complaints.

In no time, Jaebeom has you a moaning mess, only by rubbing the pad of his thumb over and over your clit. He keeps his eyes on you, watching you slowly falling apart under his touch.

“So beautiful.” He switches his hand, one hand rubbing and the other slipping a finger inside you, making you throw your head behind. One is not enough. One is just a child play for Jaebeom. “More?”

One becomes two, two becomes three. Tears are forming at the corner of your eyes because of how full you’re feeling down there. Jaebeom just keeps pumping his fingers in and out, repeatedly pressing the spot that makes you cry louder each time.

Jaebeom has a thing watching you becoming a mess for him. To him it feels like an achievement, watching his girl cumming only from his fingers.

“My beautiful princess.” Head thrown and sweat trickling all over your body, you feel like you’re burning. A particular hard thrust though, sends you into a firework of white vision, your legs cramping and your core throbbing violently, clamping on Jaebeom’s fingers. It’s extremely tight but somehow Jaebeom manages to still pump you through the orgasm while swiftly rubbing your clit to calm you down. “Wanna make you cum like this, every day.”

He stands, shredding one last piece of his clothes, hard on springing up to show how hard it has been for him. Slowly he crawls, effectively caging you again while his length rubs your thigh. You feel it twitch upon bumping into some goose bumps that have been painting your skin for a while now.

Jaebeom, being the lover he is, cradles your head after he positions his bulbous head at your entrance.

“Tonight, princess.” You feel him slowly entering you, inch by inch of his hard length penetrates your core. “I’m going to make you feel good.”

Halfway, probably, you don’t know anymore, you sob at the sensation of fullness brought by his dick. He stills, knowing how incredibly tight you can be after your first orgasm. Then when you nod, he reaches for your fingers and locks them together before pushing more of him inside you.

In return, you lol your head to the side, holding your intertwined hands as a support.

“You’re extremely tight, princess.” He catches his breath, a pained look painting his face when you accidentally squeeze him. “Shit.”

“Move.” You said. “Please.”

Jaebeom wastes no time pulling back and slams into you with the intensity of a mad man, right to your pleasure spot. Your mouth forms an ‘o’, clouded by his delicious thrust. You want every day to be your birthday.

He chuckles, pushing your hands up above your head. “I can make love to you like this every day, princess.”

You blush, realising that you unknowingly voiced your thoughts out.

“Tell me how you feel.” Jaebeom’s length, thick and full inside you, keeps plowing in and out without giving you time to think. You wanted to laugh, as if you needed time to think, really. “Does it feel full, baby?”

You nod hurriedly, afraid that he pulls a stunt if you don’t answer instantly. “So big, Jaebeom.”

He laughs, agreeing with what you’ve muttered. “Harder?”

Again you nod, wanting him to break you. “Make love to me, Jae..”

You get a moan as a response and if you squint really hard, you can feel his member twitching inside you. In return, Jaebeom stills and drops his head to your shoulder, obviously affected by your words.

“Say that again.” He pleads.

You, knowing there is no harm saying it again, thread his hair and press a kiss to his lips. “Make love to me, Jae. Make me feel good.”

At that he picks up his speed, which started as a mere push but is now gradually turning harder. At one point your legs are folded and Jaebeom is practically drilling his length into you in full force.

Jaebeom’s hands are everywhere, all over your body, determined to make you cum again.

“So pretty. So so pretty.” He repeats like a mantra, one hand pinching your taut bud. “Feels good, right princess?”

Your mind is everywhere. Each time your walls clench around Jaebeom’s length, a wave of emotion hits you and you’re sent to the clouds. Each thrust is hard and short but manages to hit that spot repeatedly. 

“Yes.” your voice comes out like croak, thanks to the whimpers you’ve been making every time Jaebeom plunges inside you. “Yes, Jaebeom. Yes.”

“Do you know,” Jaebeom’s pained voice alerts you, though you don’t think he’s in pain but he manages to catch your attention which is now actually everywhere. “You’re so unbelievably tight but your juices, fuck, your juices help me move faster.”

An embarrassing moan escapes you and makes you hide your face, you wanted to die from Jaebeom’s crudeness. “Shut up, Jaebeom.”

Giggles, moans and whimpers fill the love-making alternately, accompanied by Jaebeom’s labored breath and the slapping of his hip with yours. Just as you think you are safe, Jaebeom cradles your head again, reaching for your lips and tasting you. 

“I love you.” despite his softness, his pace is wilding, now every thrust is aimed to make you feel stars. Your vision slowly turns blurry, back arched and hands gripping the sheet intensely. “I love you.”

Jaebeom knows that you’re close, your velvety walls are clamping on him therefore he mouths your neck, licking the jenture between your neck and your shoulder.

“Let it go, baby.” he whispers, triggering the sensation you’ve been seeking from the start. In a split second you struggle to lock your eyes with him, involuntarily tipping your head back and finally, you reach the ecstasy zone, blunt nails digging into Jaebeom’s shoulders for support. “Good girl. Such a good girl for me.”

You sob, your lower region contracts violently despite Jaebeom still thrusting into you to help you ride out your high and to reach his. Your mind is filled with his praises until you feel another euphoria, the sensation of his cum filling you up completely until you feel bloated. 

Jaebeom rests half of his upper body on you, his hands still caging you while he takes his breath. It was a mind-blowing sex, a different one from all of your adventures. 

“I love you.” he says, dropping a kiss on your forehead before groaning out loud after you squeeze his buried length. You giggle in return when he narrows his eyes on you. “You’re turned on because I said I love you?”

He laughs again, nosing your cheeks and drops another kiss. “Well now I know why you’re always ready for me.”

“Oh my god!” you gasp loudly and whack his arm. Trust Jaebeom to be the crudest. “Jaebeom!”

Copyright © 2020 jjpmoans. All rights reserved

[ Writings ]

[jawritter]

Finally Yours

**Warnings!!** SMUTT!! LOL. ABO dynamics, Rutting Alpha, Near Farel Alpha, Heat-induced smut, rut induced smut. The implication of male masturbation (brief), Late bloomer reader, language, angst, I think that’s everything!!

A/N: This story was cross-posted from Wattpad! All mistakes are mine! Please don’t copy my stuff!! If you would like to be added to my tag list let me know!! Hope you all enjoy this little ABO Oneshot!

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam X Read (Platonic friendship)

Word Count: 3087

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MASTERLIST!!!

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Dean’s POV:

Dean pulled himself up from his lying position, sweat dripping from his body. Throwing the toy he’d been trying to use to find some relief across the room, aggravated at the damn thing for not work for him anymore. No matter what he did, he couldn’t find any relief. He’d been in a full rut now for more than a week and a half. He’d hired Omega’s to help him through ruts in the past, but no one really wanted to help an Alpha like him. One that was past his prime.

He was 41 years old and unmated, so he was surprised he’d lasted this long alone without going feral before. Now though, it seemed this rut would be the one to do him. 

Running his hand down his face harshly before pulling down the rest of the scotch in the bottle he’d been drinking he picked up the phone with shaking hands and dialed Sam’s number. He needed to be locked down before he went completely feral. While he still could make the choice not to hurt anyone around him.

He thought when he met Y/N that she might be his mate, but she turned out to be beta. He’d heard all the stories of true mates, and soulmates, but he supposed it just wasn’t in the cards for him. Maybe his fate got thrown off when he was brought back from hell all those years ago, his omega given to someone else while he was gone.

He was hoping against all hope that Y/N would have been an omega, he’d loved her for a long time now, even if he was too afraid to say it. They just weren’t biologically compatible, and there was no changing that. 

She was Bobby’s niece. He’d promised Bobby that he’d look after her after he was gone, and so far he’d kept to his word. 

Now, who would watch over her? He was going to die down here, he knew it, this was it for him, he was going to go completely feral, and his brother was going to have to put him down. There would be no going back for him.

He always thought that he’d go down in a hunt, some vengeful spirit, Djinn, hell a vamp or a demon. He never thought he’d go down like this. Here it was though, no way out. He’d been trying to find a release for days now and nothing. His vision flashes red before him in increments as he dialed Sam’s number. He knew he didn’t’ have long. Growls falling from his chest involuntarily.

“Dean, Is it over, are you ready to go on a hunt?” Sam answered the phone hopefully, Dean suppressed the whine that wanted to escape him.

“Sammy, I need you to come to lock me down…” 

Silence fell on the other end of the phone. Sams’ heart was racing. This couldn’t be. No there had to be another way. His brother couldn’t go feral and leave him.

“Dean, just hang in there, I’ll find you an Omega to help you.”

“It’s too late Sam, I don’t have much time before I lose me completely, If you bring an Omega in here I may hurt her.”

Silence fell on the other end of the phone again. 

“I’m on my way to you Dean, just hang in there, we will figure this out.” 

With that Sam hung up the phone, and Dean dropped it to his side, looking at the toy that lay on the floor across the room from him. His crotch throbbing painfully from his prostate to his knees, causing him to whimper loudly as he fisted himself harshly, getting up to and retrieve the useless toy to try again. He couldn’t give up, even though he was exhausted. Sam depended on him, he always had. He had to fight this.

Your POV:

You watched the desperation run across Sam’s face as he hung up the phone with Dean. Pressing the accelerator harder into the floorboard of Dean’s beloved Impala, flying toward the bunker toward his brother.

You had been with the Winchester brothers ever since your uncle Bobby passed away. He had been taking care of you after your parents were murdered by a demon all those years ago. You were only 8 at the time.

You, like Sam, were a beta. Dean was an Alpha, much like his father before him. Dean had become your most trusted friend and protector over the years that you’d spent with the brothers. You had just turned 25 years old and had been with the brothers since you were 17.

Even though you loved Sam like a brother, over the years you had developed quite a large bit of feelings for the elder Winchester. When you were 15 though, and all the other had already presented by that age, you were still a beta, which meant even after you turned 18 there would be no future for you and Dean. It just didn’t work out that way in this universe. He needed an Omega, there was very little you could do for him.

Still, the heart wants what the heart wants, and you just couldn’t shake the feels you always had for Dean, even after all these years. Even though yourself and Sam where beta Dean still made you leave the bunker, hotel, or whatever and wherever you were at when his ruts would start. He always said he didn’t want you to see him like that, but really you knew he just didn’t want you to watch the parade of Omega’s that he would hire or find at a local watering hole to help him through his ruts.

You and Sam had taken this opportunity to go and see Jody and the girls for this rut. When you didn’t hear from him you both assumed that everything was fine, and going like it usually did. You were about fifteen miles from the bunker when Sam’s phone rang, and you knew something must have been horribly wrong judging by Sam’s reaction. It made your heart seize up in your chest. You just couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to Dean.

“Sam, what’s wrong?” you asked, watching him closely.

Sam swallowed heavily, looking at you briefly, then back at the road. It was no secret to Sam the way you felt about his older brother, even though he knew you tried to hide it and never would admit it to him.

You knew he knew as well, but you just couldn’t say it out loud. Saying how you feel out loud made it real, and then his rejection was real. You didn’t know if you could handle that.

“It’s Dean, he’s still in rut, he can’t come out of it. He wants me to tie him up, so I’m going to tie him up, and then try and find an Omega to help him. Y/N, he says he doesn’t have much time, he thinks he’s going feral…” Sam cut off his sentence unable to say anymore.

Your stomach twisted in you tightly before letting go. You felt like you wanted to curl up and vomit all at the same time. You couldn’t lose Dean. If he went feral, and you couldn’t help him, and Sam couldn’t find someone who could, you couldn’t think about the consequences.

In what felt like no time Sam landed at the bunker. Your stomach had been doing flips and cramping ever since Sam told you the situation. You didn’t know if it was nerves or the greasy dinner food you had eaten on your way here, but you didn’t have time to deal with being sick right now. So you pushed it down and ran after Sam down the stairs, and toward the hallway to Dean’s room.

Just as you rounded the corner with Sam outside of Dean’s door a smell hit you, something heady, and strong. Stronger than you’d ever smelt before. It was the smell of leather, and pine and gun powered; mixed with something that was unique and appealing. As soon as you smelt it your stomach knotted up on you like someone had twisted a white-hot poker in your gut, then twisted it. Sweat broke out over your skin in an instant.

Sam stopped in his tracks, skidding to a halt, and looking at you doubled over in pain. You couldn’t stop the scream that fell from your lips. Sam dropped to his knees next to you.

“Y/N, what’s wrong!” 

Sam was starting to panic.

Tears were running down your face now. You were scared, you had never experienced anything like this. The overpowering scent was making it hard to concentrate. It filled your senses, making it all you could focus on. Filling every fiber of your being. “I don’t know Sam..”

Through the door of Dean’s room, a low growl eliminated. The sound made your whole body tremble. Sam watched you, realization showing in his eyes.

“Y/N, I know what’s wrong.. You are presenting. Your and Omega, my brother’s Omega. His rut has triggered your first heat.”

“That’s impossible Sam, I’m 25 years old!!”

“Late bloomer,” Sam shrugged. 

Suddenly the door to Dean's room opened behind Sam. You heard the growling sound before you saw him. His eyes were almost black, sweat dripping from his body, it trembled as he leaned against the doorway, his muscles jerking under his skin at random. His eye were hooded as he stared at you, grows mixed with whimpers leaving his solid bear chest.

“Omega,” he whispered, and your body responded to his command immediately, slick coating your underwear in a gush. His scent hit you harder than you’d ever smelt anything in your life. Your body trembled on the floor before him, and your head bowing automatically without your control.

“Alpha..” 

At his title, he purred low in his chest, more slick coating your underwear now, responding to Dean’s obvious approval. Your thought process was falling out of the window. The only thing you could focus on was the overwhelming need to have him.

Opening the door wider for you to come into his room, Dean stood and waited for you, as you stood to your feet and staggered your way toward the tall alpha. 

Your alpha. 

There was no doubt in your mind, Dean Winchester was your alpha, and you need each other now more than ever before.

Sam jumped up and grabbed your arm, causing Dean to snarl and step toward his brother. Sam threw his hands in the air in surrender. 

“Wait, wait, Dean, you said on the phone that you were afraid you were going to hurt an Omega if I brought one here for you.”

“Not going to hurt my Omega Sam, now get out of the way and let her come to me.”

Reluctantly, Sam moved to the side and allowed you to move closer to him. As soon as you were in grabbing distance, Dean’s hot hands were on your body, pulling you close this chest before slamming the door.

“Y/N, are you sure you want this with me? Because I’m too far gone, I’m not going to be able to stop.”

His scent was surrounding you. You were panting as his hands roamed your body, Dean backing you towards his bed. His smell was all over the room, clouding your judgment, and making your head spin. All you could see what him, all you ever wanted was him, all you’d ever want again was him, nothing else would ever matter again.

“I need you, Dean. Please Alpha..”

The words weren’t even good and out of your mouth before his mouth was on yours in a bruising kiss. Tongue diving into your lips.

His tongue quickly dominated yours. His body pressed against yours. His rough calloused hands roaming your body. Picking you up harshly he carried you across the room, quickly laying you down on the bed. For the first time, you noticed that he was completely naked. His thick chest and shoulders heaving with heavy breaths. His muscular arms caged around you as he buried his face in your neck, breathing in deeply and whimpering. Trying to hold onto his own control that was slipping from him quickly.

Grabbing your shirt he ripped it from your body roughly. Buttons flying across the room, clinging as it hit random objects in his room. In one swift movement he had your pants undone, and your bra and panties down in one pull. All along with your boots and socks that went in what felt like a flash.

Sweat was prickling all over your skin. With every growl or whimper that left his lips your body produced more slick, that was now running down your legs.

Once he was satisfied that you were completely naked he looked at you, a deep growl escaping his lips. His own body trembling as he took you in. His thick length standing at attention, bobbing against the strain to reach its goal. A small bead of pre-come gathered at the tip. He was massive. You had heard about the size of alpha’s being impressive before, you had never been with an alpha though, and the sheer size of him was downright terrifying.

A shudder and a whimper ripped through you as another wave of cramps assaulted your body. Getting worse every time there was a fresh wave.

Dean laid his body back over you, Pressing his weight down on top of you. Your body soothed some by his touch and his closeness.

“Going to take care of you ‘mega.” 

Letting him Nussle into your neck, he slipped two fingers into your aching core, curling them inside of you, sending shock waves of pleasure through your whole body.

“So beautiful Omega, so responsive.” Dean purred above you, licking the same spot on the junction of your neck and shoulder. You could feel the familiar coil begin to burn and tighten in your abdomen, just as you thought you couldn’t get any close to the edge your overheated body trembling and twitching, Dean added a third, thick finger into you and fell to pieces.

White spot speckled your vision and you moaned deeply something you had never done before. Dean worked you a little more gently until your body came down from it’s high.

When you opened your eyes again Dean was hovering over you, watching you. Light growls emanating from his chest.

“Alpha, I need you.” 

The words barely above a whisper, but it was the permission he seemed to be waiting for. His eyes darkened even further if that were even possible. Fisting is thick harshly several times before lining himself up with your dripping entrance, he brought his lips to you in a bruising kiss as he sank himself deep inside of you until the tip of his throbbing length hit your cervix.

A deep breath pushed from your lungs involuntarily as your body adjusted to him. His thick arms caged around you. His scent everywhere, making you feel drunk. Your walls already fluttering around him. His body twitching above you, shivering with restraint as he tried to keep himself from pounding into you until your body had adjusted to his.

Reaching up he brushed your hair out of your face and brushed his lips across yours. Kissing you softly before the last of his humanity faded away, and he began to start moving slowly.

He moved slowly at first, purring above you. Then something seemed to snap in him, and a growl rumbled deep in him. He started pounding into you at a brutal pace. Your body responds to him immediately, taking every brutal thrust with ease. Which surprised even you.

Moans and purrs escaping both of your lips, as both of you quickly made your way toward the edge again. Without warning, he pulled himself out of you and flipped you over to stomach, pulling you up to your knees before ramming himself back into you. Picking up his pace even further.

His knot starting to swell and catching your entrance with every push and pull of his body against yours. You tried your best to meet his pace as he pounded into you. His knot swelled even further as his fingers wound their way around, finding your little bundle of nerves and circling harshly with his fingers. Plummeting you over the edge as his knot locked deep inside of you.

A deep growl fell from his throat as his teeth sank deep inside the skin of the junction of your neck and shoulder. The pain quickly erased into pleasure as the strongest orgasm you had ever experience washed over you. Momentarily your vision went black and your body jerked without your control.

Dean slowly withdrew his teeth from your neck, laying you down slowly. His knot still connecting your bodies, and his cum spilled deeply inside of you. He pulled you tight to his chest, purring and licking your fresh claiming mark. Healing it, and soothing it like only your Alpha could.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Dean finally asked after a long while with the two of you just laying there holding onto each other. Adjusting to your new reality, and the warm fuzzy feeling that seemed to be flowing from your Alpha to you.

“I’m okay, but what about you?” you say, remembering why you and Sam had rushed here in the first place. Turning your head so that you could look at him some.

His face looked calmer than you’d seen him in a long time. Tired even. His rut was finally gone. Peacefully purring as he leaned down to nuzzle your claiming mark. Licking it lightly before answering you.

“I’m fine sweetheart, I’m going to be just fine.”

For the first time in a long time, Dean believed what he was saying. It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t a lie, he really felt like now that he’d found his Omega, the woman he’d been in love with even when biology said there was no way was finally his. Everything else would work itself out. Right now his Omega, his love, laying here in his arms was all that mattered to him.

—————————————————————————————————-

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons​  @imabitch4jensen​   @rvgrsbrns​

[babi-correia]

Officer Down

From Anon #1:

Would you be able to write a really angsty story with adam ruzek x reader and they are both members of intelligence and they have a fight in the locker rooms and it affects their work, and then reader gets injured or something and at med it’s just fluff? thanks, i love your writing!

And Anon #2:

Could you do number 13 and 20 with adam ruzek x reader? preferably reader is the one who gets hurt, i live for angst lol! thank you 13- “Don’t die on me, please.”  20- “You’re the only thing that makes me smile.”

I thought these really fit in together!

Words: 2109 (...ops?) Warnings: Canon-typical violence, gunshots, injured reader, cursing, blood... angst, I guess, be prepared for anything Pairing: Adam Ruzek x Reader A/N: I’m still working on my angst-writting skills, but I hope you guys like it!

“Adam, this is ridiculous.” You snap once you walk into the locker, not caring if someone else hears you. He, on the other hand, quickly shushes you as he scopes the room for prodding ears and closes the door. “See what I mean!”

“You know how Voight is about dating within the unit.” He says, going back to his locker. You throw your hands in the air.

“For God’s sake, Adam!” You can hear the desperation in your tone, and it makes you cringe. “We’ve met each other’s family; everyone knows we’re dating except the unit.”

“And it will stay that way.” He says sternly, making his way out of the locker room and leaving you there alone.

Your blood feels like it’s burning with anger inside your veins and you slam the locker door shut, barely controlling yourself before you step outside and into the bullpen.

The white board stares at you mockingly, the case displayed having been there for over two days. Child abduction, where four kids had gone missing and two had come up dead by the river. The whole police force was on overdrive trying to catch the perpetrator, but no one was making any progress whatsoever.

“Third kid came up by the river.” Voight says curtly, updating the board. “And I don’t see any progress on the case!”

He places a pin on the map, in the place where the kid was found, and you approach it, tapping your finger on it as you recognize the area.

“I have a CI that lives and hangs out in that area.” You mutter. “He’s from my time in Narcotics. I’ll pay him a visit and see if he saw anything.”

“Alone?” Adam asks, prompting a glare from you. Typically, you would take someone with you, but today it would just be adding fuel to the fire.

“Yep.” You say, patting your pocket, checking for your keys before you trot down the stairs and into your car.

You make the drive there while thinking back to your relationship troubles, nearly running a red light shortly before you reach your destination.

You park under a tree, turning off your car and calling your CI. He picks up at the second ring and you instruct him to meet you at your car, which he promptly does. He closes the door after he enters, eyeing you warily.

“It’s been a while.” He remarks, fiddling with his hands.

“This area of town has been quiet. Until that kid came up, that is.” You say calmly before turning to him. “You don’t happen to know anything, do you?”

“I, erm… I heard something about a black car not from around here.”

“What do you mean ‘not from around’?” You ask, picking up your notebook and your pen.

“Out of state. It was orange and black, I think.” He says, scratching his head.

“New York?” You ask, pulling up a picture of a New York plate on your phone and showing him. He nods. “You remember the plate?”

“I think it had a GO something in the letters, and two fives in a row.” He says, tapping his fingers on his legs. “It was a lady driver, I’m sure of that. And I’m almost certain there was a rental sticker on the back window.”

“So, you’re saying that it was a woman, and that she rented a car in New York, and then came all the way to Chicago?” You say, scribbling down on your note pad.

“That’s what I saw.” He says. You nod and slip him a couple of bills, prompting him to leave the car.

You begin to make your way back to the precinct when you notice a shiny black car with a huge container trailer parked on an abandoned lot and slow your car until you stop at the end of the street. You grab the portable radio and hook it up to your jacket, checking your gun and holstering it before you grab the car’s radio.

“Main, this is 50-21 Ocean requesting immediate back-up at the abandoned lot by the river in South Lock Street, sighting of a suspect’s vehicle, a black sedan with New York plates, RTO-9554. Plain-clothed officer on scene making initial approach and assessment of the perimeter.” You say into the radio, unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car.

You turn your radio’s volume to the minimum, but Adam’s voice is still perfectly audible through it.

“(Y/N), what the hell are you doing?! Wait for back-up!” He hisses through the radio, making you roll your eyes.

“Focus on getting here, Ruzek.” You say coldly, your hand resting on your holster as you inch towards the abandoned lot. The area is open, no trees or buildings for you to hide behind, so you just hope for the best as you get closer. You hear the sirens in the distance and curse out before picking your radio up again. “50-21 Ida, George, David, Adam, and all assisting officers, kill the sirens and the lights. The area is exposed and all we have for us is the element of surprise.”

But it’s too late. The cars are already on the side street when they kill the sirens, and it was enough to get the woman’s attention, as she exits the container with something in hand. You quickly draw your gun, but it’s not quick enough. You hear the bang and feel something hitting hard against your chest as you fall backwards.

Everything grows numb for a moment, the sounds drown out and you feel yourself falling to the floor, but can’t really find it in you to care about it. The numbness subsides partially and you regain your hearing, being able to hear a lot of shouting not too far from you. You feel your shirt sticking to your chest and start feeling a white-hot pain that knocks the wind out of you. Next thing you know, you’re struggling to breathe.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), can you hear me?” You barely hear Adam’s voice over the noise of your own blood rushing through your ears. Adam’s at your side, on his knees and looking at you with a frazzled expression. “Don’t die on me, please!”

You look down at his hands and see that they’re covered in blood; in your blood. Panic sets in and you look at him with wide and scared eyes.

“I don’t want to die.” You rasp out desperately, holding Adam’s forearm as he tries to stop the bleeding. You can see the tears in his eyes and feel your own streaming down your face as you cough. One of his bloody hands shoots to his radio before he speaks.

“Main, this is 50-21 Ida again, officer down! Where’s my fucking ambulance!?” He shouts, his hand trembling when he lets go of the radio. He gets a vague reply from Main and focuses on trying to stop your bleeding as you feel yourself growing colder and weaker.

“Adam…” You say, meekly putting your hand on his arm. He looks at you, fear, sadness and despair evident in his face. “I love you, never forget that.”

He stifles a sob as one of his hands leaves your chest to cup your face, wiping out a tear.

“I love you too, but don’t die on me, c’mon (Y/N). I know you can do this.” He mutters, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he turns his attention back to stopping your bleeding. You hear footsteps rushing towards you and see the rest of the unit looking between you and the three different streets next to where you are.

You can hear the sirens in the distance, but you’re fighting a loosing battle against your eyelids. You rest your hands atop Adam’s, making him look towards you.

“You know… I always wanted to die for something.” You rasp, watching him shake his head and shushing you. “You being here makes it better. I always feared dying alone.”

“(Y/N), you’re not dying.” This time the sob comes out loud and clear, and it breaks your heart. “You’re not, you’re not leaving me, not yet, c’mon.”

“Adam…”

“Don’t you dare. I know you love me, and I love you, but you’re not dying, you’re not leaving me here stranded and alone. You’re going to be fine. We’re going home and watching a crappy movie cramped up in that small couch of yours, but we’re not going to actually watch the movie because you’re going to be making silly remarks and comebacks about the movie, and then you’ll tickle me because the movie is so bad that you can’t even watch it anymore. And then we’ll shut the TV off, and kiss and cuddle in the couch before we venture into the kitchen to cook dinner, and I’ll probably burn something no one thought it was possible to burn, and we’ll have to order something in and we’ll laugh about how much of a disaster I am before we go to bed and cuddle some more.”

Adam’s openly bawling when he finishes speaking, his tears mixing with your blood on top of his hands. You sob slightly before looking around at the members of Intelligence.

“There goes your plan of keeping everything secret.” You whisper, chuckling slightly before groaning in pain.

“That’s not important right now.” He says, his head snapping in the direction of the sirens. “The ambulance is almost here baby, hold on.”

“I love you, Adam.” You whisper, no longer able to keep your eyes open. Darkness consumes you as you vaguely hear Adam calling your name.

-

Adam finds himself in the apartment you’ve shared for the last two months. No one knew about it other than the two of you, and now Intelligence. Jay goes with Adam, urging him to take a shower and change into fresh clothes.

Adam just feels numb. He feels like his heart was ripped out and trampled in that street, left behind along with your blood. His emotions come back and hit him at once, making him collapse in the middle of the living room. His mind keeps taking him back and replaying the scared and sad look on your face as he saw life slowly draining from you. Jay kneels beside Adam and hugs him as Adam sobs.

“I can’t do this without her.” He manages to say, clinging to Jay as is his life depended on it. “I need her here with me.”

-

Adam nearly collapses when he sees you in the hospital room, your skin sickly ashy, more tubes than he wants to count connected to you, your eyes closed and your body unmoving.

What he would give for you to wake up right then and joke with him about how he was forced to out your relationship, or just hug him and say that you’re fine and that the two of you are going to be ok.

He gingerly sits in the chair by your bed, trying to rub away the stinging of his eyes from crying and grabbing your hand, gently tracing patterns.

Over the days, he talks to you a lot and refuses to leave your side. He’s pretty much memorized the timing of the beeping of the machines, so his ears perk up when one of them beeps out of time. He jolts forward and grabs your hand with his two.

“(Y/N), sweetheart, can you hear me?” He asks hopefully, sitting in the edge of his chair. He slumps when he gets no response. “Baby, you have no idea what I’d do just to have you come back to me. You’re my love, you’re my joy, my life, you’re the only thing that makes me smile. Please, please come back to me.”

“A girl has to almost die to get declarations like this?” He shoots up when he hears your voice, his eyes wide as they fixate on you. “You’re a huge teddy bear, you know?”

He launches forward and hugs you gingerly, hiding his face in your neck as he starts to openly cry.

“I love you so much, I’m sorry I’m an ass to you sometimes.” He whispers into your neck, sobbing. “I was so scared.”

You slowly wrap your arms around him and rub his back.

“I’m right here, babe. I’m not leaving you this early.” You say, making him pull away slightly before you speak again. You wipe his tears away with your thumbs, cupping his face. “I’m the only thing that makes you smile, right? So please do.”

He chuckles, tears brimming on his eyes before he brings his lips to yours and kisses you softly.

[velociwrangler]

server promptfest: joey/kate

SO I’M BACK ON MY MEDS AND TRYING TO CRAWL BACK ONTO THE WRITING WAGON

I did a little prompt fest in the Dead by Baelight server! I don’t think they’re really good enough to throw up on AO3 but I am  fond enough of them to share. please be prepared for their short and  rough form, as it was an exercise in low-pressure writing :)

dead by daylight, kate/m!killer, anonymity & lockers, for @obscurefrost​

this one was heeeavily inspired by @crit-afterdark​‘s gorgeous Joey art here. most of the promptfest fics were around 500 words, and this one was more like 1600 LOL. please go and gaze upon her work

Some people just don't learn. That's one of the things that keeps Kate sane in this place. That no matter what they suffer, no matter how often it turns foul, there will be people lunging for the rescue, fighting for each other. She loves them for it, these strangers. What else can you do?

The thunder of the heartbeat in her ears just won't die. The world is pulsing and red around her and Kate shoves her elbow into the splintery surface of the door, legs shaking, and closes her eyes. She's fighting to keep herself upright. Running out of time, she thinks. Running out of time, running - just leave damnit - But it stays and it stays and she's afraid of the creak of the hinges, grimacing tautly against the pain. Just a little longer, she tells herself, but it's not up to her. The heartbeat dies, abruptly. Kate grabs for the door, pushes her shoulder against it. If she can mend, if she can press her wounds together the strange fevered sickness of death's door that Legion's masked members inflict will - Too late, too little time. Her legs fold under her and she crashes to the floor, teeth grating together. The air of the basement is thick and torpid, and she feels every inch of her bruised body. If she starts to crawl up the stairs, will she find a silhouette waiting, returning to find her? She tries to swallow her cries of pain, muffling them with bitten lips, cramming the back of her fingers against her hands. No one is coming for her. She can sense them, far corners of the trial grounds, hiding or bent to their tasks. Tonight's trial had not been a forgiving one. The heartbeat suddenly blooms again and she stiffens. She doesn't want to bleed out, but that logical thought doesn't keep the surge of adrenaline and terror from happening, doesn't prevent her heart from thumping like a rabbit's against her ribs. Come on, she tells herself, trying to summon the aggressively cheerful voice she'd summon to drag herself back out on the road, to promise one more hour before a motel, let's just fucking get this over with and have a little peace and quiet, folks. And then she sees a silhouette, the soft tread of a boot. A light build, but bigger than Nea or Ace. Her vision is swimming and uncertain. "What are you doing?" she slurs, feeling a surge of affection and impatience at once. "Run. You have to run." His head cocks to one side and he comes closer. Cautious, as if his ear is perked for a killer's footstep above. "At least hide," she says. Her voice sounds far away to her own ears, sleepy and scolding. "Don't be a martyr." Closer he comes, weaving around the edge of the wall and crouching down beside her. Kate still has her medkit clutched in her hand, more from a reflexive unthinking stiffness of her fingers than from any real strength of grip. She sighs, half-laughing. "Okay, sugar," she breathes. "If you want to play hero, give me a shot?" Some people just don't learn. That's one of the things that keeps Kate sane in this place. That no matter what they suffer, no matter how often it turns foul, there will be people lunging for the rescue, fighting for each other. She loves them for it, these strangers. What else can you do? Her mind snaps back to the present. He reaches down and methodically works her fingers free of the handle. She slurs, "oh, sorry," and he pauses, then finishes. Her hand drops to the floor, fingers curling. A split second hesitation. The heartbeat is still loud and insistent in their ears. The killer must be patrolling close, determined to find her. Her unknown companion pops the medkit open and looks over its contents. "Syringe," she says dreamily, "I'll be right as rain...I dreamed of it and it gave me something nice this time, right? Instead of just air freshener." She hopes her voice is quieter than it sounds in her own ears. She seems to have lost the knack of whispering. He finds it, lifts it up, and then brushes her hair back. She sighs, feeling gloved fingers brush her throat, The briefest sting in the curve of her bared shoulder. "Now you run," she mumbles. "Or he'll find you." The man stays crouched, easy and relaxed on his haunches, waiting for her. She wishes she could see his face; she's met survivors just about this bold before, devil may care after living too long in this place, but she can't place him. "At least hide," she says. Strange moments like these in trials are odd spots of macabre fascination, always. When the urgency gives way to light-hearted fatalism, when all you have are each other. "Get in the locker." She shivers on the ground, feeling a prickling wave travel from head to toe. Whatever is in the syringe - no matter what material it mimics, no matter what shape the Fog gives it to be crudely recognizable - it's as natural and recognizable as the Fog itself. But as long as it does its job, she'll take it. "Get in the...." She reaches out and tries to grasp his pant leg. Her fingernails scrape and slip off. "Sugar," she says again, that strange giddy mix of endearment and annoyance bubbling in her veins, "stop being a dumbass." When he moves, she slumps against the ground in relief and closes her eyes. But then she feels his hands on her again, and he picks her up off the ground, cradling her against his chest. She murmurs something incoherent, confused, and then hears the locker door open: his grip shifts on her, keeping her pinned to his chest by the waist as he walks them inside. The door closes behind them. She slumps against his chest, obliging, and they are squeezed together from shoulder to hip. His legs fit between hers, the coarse fabric of his pants brushing her inner thighs, and he keeps her on her feet with the pressure of his body alone. Which is. A problem. Just until the syringe finishes, she thinks. Just until - But the syringe working moves over her in a prickling wave. Her body feels hot and tender. Whatever it's doing to her, whatever strange machinations it performs inside her body, it makes her shiver and flood with sensation, nerves on overdrive. The warm weight of his body against hers is secure, persistent. His pelvis presses the crease of her shorts against her and she shivers. A little sound escapes her, involuntary and high-pitched, and he lifts on gloved fingers. It grazes both of their mouths, they're so close, when he presses it to his lips and whispers, "shhhh." The first time he's spoken, she realizes, but it doesn't give her many clues. Still no clue as to who he is. Is he a new survivor, or will she be real embarrassed when they stagger out of the basement together? "Sorry," she tries to whisper back. It probably comes out too loud. Her face is flushed, and the cool damp air of the basement is banished by their bodies together in such a close space. His breath, soft and steady, grazes her mouth. "Sorry," she repeats, "I'm..." "Hn?" he says. Has he never used the syringe before? She tries to hold still and not rock against him, tries not to rut pleadingly against the line of his body. Her fingers curl into the loose sweatshirt around his frame and a vivid image flashes through her mind: of pushing her fingers under it, smoothing her hand across his lower stomach and dipping her fingers under the hem. It's an absurd thought, especially because the heartbeat hasn't eased. Has the killer really fixated on this one down, or is he chasing someone else? She tries to remember if a generator has gone off while she's been bleeding out. "Feels like - " she gasps, and then he presses against her, rocks his hips slowly and deliberately inward, and she realizes she's been squirming without meaning to, and her fingers in his sweatshirt having been giving weak little tugs. She moans and tries to cover her mouth, but it's hard to maneuver her hand up. He kisses her. Presses his mouth to hers to silence her and she feels a rasp of fabric. From far, far away, distant alarm bells begin to sound in the back of her head. But she's still woozy, and the effects of the syringe haven't worn off yet. If anything they've gotten worse, because neither of them are helping her calm down. He presses even closer, which she didn't think was possible, and one gloved hand rucks up her shirt and settles on her waist, flexing against her skin. "He'll find us," she protests muzzily, and he gives a huff of laughter against her lips. She's still holding onto his sweatshirt anyway, tugging and guiding his body against hers desperately. He's settled into a slow, hard rhythm, grinding against her through both of their clothes. If she could cant her hips, wrap her legs around his waist, guide him where she really wants it - she'd probably have come already. But instead it's pressure, flares of just right there yes god and then rocking away, a tease that disintegrates the last fragments of her reservations. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip and shoves both hands up under his shirt, moulding them against the lines of his back, feeling his muscles move with the rhythm of his hips even in this confined space that cramps their bodies together. "Please," she whimpers, "oh, fuck - " He lowers his head and puts his mouth on the wound that downed her, the red slash that gouges down over her shoulder and upper chest, just as the syringe kicks in and it closes. The bright, violent burst of pain as his tongue strokes over it crashes her headfirst into orgasm, even as, in this last moment, the alarm bells in the back of her head go klaxon-loud and she realizes -

[ohshit-itsyagorl]

Four Dipshits and a Michelle

Part 6

Y’all I’m getting tired of linking all the chapters every time I post an update, so I’m just going to link the first part and my masterlist.

Part 1, Writing Masterlist

Read the story here on AO3

Summary: Michelle never believed in soulmates. But what happens when she turns seventeen and gets her mark? What happens when she inevitably finds the person with the matching tattoo? And what is she supposed to do with Peter Parker. Her best friend in the whole world. Her crush. Someone she feels drawn to for some inexplicable reason.

Also, I know it’s been a long time since the last update (yikes). I actually update every Sunday night on AO3 and just haven't had the time to catch up, so if I ever go a long time without updating just check there first lol. Alright, here we go...

Michelle woke to the sound of a camera clicking and soft snickering. The sun made her head hurt, eyes blinking rapidly.

“I’m sending this to the group chat,” she heard Ned say from somewhere behind her. She yawned into Peter’s chest. Oh no—this was not happening right now. She turned her head to see Ned standing in the doorway, furiously typing away on his phone, grinning like an idiot.

“Ned,” she whined, “please don’t.”

“Too late. It’s already done.”

“Damn you, Ned. It’s too early for this shit,” Michelle complained, though she kept her voice quiet so as not to wake Peter sleeping behind her.

She carefully tried to shimmy out of his grip, successfully turning around to face the edge of the bed, but when she tried to scoot out of his arms she found she couldn’t.

Peter mumbled something and pulled her closer to his chest, arms banding around her waist—going under her shirt—as he buried his nose in the hair at the base of her neck.

MJ felt her cheeks redden as Ned tried and failed to hold in his laughter, letting out a loud cackle that effectively woke Peter up and simultaneously ruined MJ’s morning.

She turned her head and watched as he blinked the sunlight out of his eyes, then looked to Ned, who pointed at MJ, who wanted to sink into the ground and die just to escape the embarrassment she felt crawling like ants under her skin.

Peter looked down at her. He stared for a second—two; then he seemed to realize what he was doing—one hand wrapped around her waist while the other disappeared under her shirt, scraping across her ribs, dangerously close to the undersides of her breasts. “Oh my—oh my god,” he cried, quickly withdrawing his hands and sitting up. The sheet pooled around his waist, and MJ shivered as her eyes dropped to his chest. To that spider tattoo over his left nipple. Peter covered his face with his hands, tight muscles rippling with the movement. MJ bit her lip.

Click.

“Goddamnit, Ned!” Michelle screeched. She grabbed a pillow, soft sheets scraping against the calluses that covered her hands from drawing, and threw it at his head with all her strength.

Ned squawked in outrage. Then seemed to remember what he was doing. “Man, Betty and Cindy are never going to let you guys live this down,” Ned muttered, looking at his phone. “So embarrassing.”

Michelle stumbled out of the bed, grabbing her phone and bag on the way to the bathroom. She flipped them both off for good measure. She slammed the door and collapsed down onto the toilet. Pulling out her phone, she opened up her text messages.

Four dipshits and a Michelle:

Ned: Check it out!

Ned’s text was followed by a photo of Peter and her. She had her face pressed against his chest, his arms were banded around her sleeping form, and his nose was buried in her hair. The sheet had been kicked down to their waists, and Michelle blushed when she realized her shirt had ridden partway up her back. It did look rather incriminating, though it really wasn’t. She scrolled down.

Betty: WHAT THE FUCK?!?

Cindy: I FUCKING KNEW IT ERIJFNCNDLW

Then there was the other image. The one of Peter’s shirtless chest, abs on full display, hands covering his face. And there she was—obviously looking lower than his face, biting her lip, large t-shirt hanging off her left shoulder, clearly showing she wasn’t wearing a bra.

She opened the other group chat with incoming messages—the one with only Betty and Cindy.

Cindy: Well, this is a morning I will never forget

Betty: The way she was looking at him in that second photo, tho

Cindy: I KNOW! MJ with horny eyes is almost scarier than MJ with angry eyes.

Betty: Someone’s got the hoTS FOR PARKER!!!

Betty: MJ, have you locked yourself in the bathroom yet?

Michelle’s fingers flew furiously across her keyboard.

MJ: Those were NOT horny eyes.

There was a split second where the bubble icon popped up. Then it disappeared. Reappeared.

Cindy: They were definitely horny eyes. Betty?

Betty: I agree. The council has convened. Michelle Jones has a crush on the nerd next door.

Betty: Also, SINCE WHEN HAS PETER BEEN RIPPED???

Cindy: Yeah, when the fuck did that happen?

MJ: He’s had abs for a while.

Cindy: You’ve seen him shirtless before?

Betty: !!!

Cindy: Girl, you are so screwed.

MJ: Stop trying to kill me. I died, like, twenty minutes ago.

Betty: But you LOOOOVE him

Michelle shut off her phone at that. One minute. She would allow one minute of embarrassment, then move on.

She leaned her head back against the wall and groaned, trying to use the cool tile to calm her racing mind. Her eyes fluttered shut, slowly counting down from sixty. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight.

The way Peter had reacted, like he was uncomfortable waking up with her. She had been uncomfortable, too, but that was because of Ned. What if Peter was uncomfortable because of her?

Forty-five.

Her skin still felt like it was on fire, mark tingling pleasantly in a way that sent shivers down her spine. She cursed quietly.

Thirty. Twenty-nine.

And maybe the unrequited love was starting to drive her crazy, but she could have sworn he had been breathing her in—he had been asleep, of course, but…

Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve.

Her whole body cried out at her to tell him, to be with him, to make him feel good—body and soul.

Seven.

But she couldn’t.

Three.

Silence. Resignation. Determination.

One. Zero.

MJ stood up and shucked off her t-shirt and Peter’s boxers, nearly tripping in the tight confines of the bathroom. And maybe she was being selfish, but she shoved the boxers into her bag along with her shirt. Peter wouldn’t miss one pair. But wearing his clothes… it just felt so right, and she decided that after this morning, she would allow herself that small satisfaction. She put her hair up into a ponytail and looked at herself in the mirror. Then, before she could think better, she reached out a finger and touched her tattoo. Hissed. It was so sensitive—so sensitive after a night spent curled up with him. She could feel her heart beating quickly in her ears, but she could also feel the pulsing rhythm of a slower heartbeat; Peter, it seemed, had calmed down more than she had.

She put her clothes on and marched out of the bathroom. “Not a word from you,” she snapped at Ned as she stalked past. Peter had already put on a shirt and shorts, thankfully. She didn’t think she would be able to keep her eyes off that spider tattoo and then Peter might start to get suspicious.

Michelle turned to look at them. “So… the park and then lunch at Delmar’s?” She asked.

“Sounds good to me,” Peter replied, running a hand through his hair. Michelle looked away quickly, lest her eyes track the movement.

Ned noticed, though. He smirked. “Shut up,” MJ quipped.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You said nothing very loudly,” MJ grumbled. Ned just grinned at her. She flipped him off.

————————————————————————

By late August, the heat had become pretty much unbearable, the little air-conditioning units used in the cramped New York apartments no match for the sweltering summer.

Which is why Michelle found herself reading on the fire escape with a fold-out chair, trying and failing to cool down, sweating buckets and hating mother earth.

She turned the page. A small breeze swept through the alley and caught her bookmark. She reached out blindly to catch it before it flew out of reach of the fire escape. Just as she caught it, upper body leaning over the railing, sweat plastering her hair to her forehead, she felt hands come to steady her waist.

MJ screeched and whipped around, punching her attacker straight in the face.

Spider-man stumbled backward, hand reaching up to cup his masked jaw, and cried, “What the hell was that for?” His voice was clearly being altered by mask. Another way to protect his identity, she guessed.

Michelle shook out her wrist. “You touched me.”

Spider-man’s eyes widened. He reached his hand up as if to run it through his hair, but he was wearing a mask. “I was trying to help!” He said indignantly, bringing his arm back down and crossing them both over his chest. “I thought you were going to fall.”

“I wasn’t even off balance,” MJ quipped. She reached to push some stray curls off her sweaty forehead, then eyed his suit. “Shouldn’t you be dying in that thing? It’s, like, over a hundred degrees out today.”

“Built-in cooling technology,” he said, leaning against the railing. Michelle rolled her eyes; she supposed he thought it looked cool. It did, but that was beside the point.

“Lucky you,” she snarked. “I’d kill for that on a day like today.” She motioned to her sweaty face.

“The sweat suites you, darling,” he said, white eyes shifting down her body.

Michelle’s face reddened. “Oh my god, that’s disgusting. You could be forty—and if you touch me again, I swear—”

Spider-man’s eyes widened in shock. “No—I’m not forty! I’m a boy—I mean—young man!”

Michelle raised her eyebrows. “How old are you, exactly?” She asked. She waited a moment. “If you don’t answer I’m going to assume you’re older than thirty, which is still creepy, by the way.”

“I’m not, okay?” He said. She waited. “…I’m seventeen.”

MJ furrowed her brows at that. She was seventeen. She could know him. “Okay,” she said.

“You believe me?”

“Do I have a reason not to?” She arched a brow at him, a small smile tugging on the corners of her lips.

He shook his head furiously. “All I’m trying to say is you’re still really pretty, even with all the…perspiration.”

She looked at him more closely; something about him seemed familiar, the way he talked, or the way he held himself—maybe she really did know him from school. “Thanks, I guess. You’re not too bad yourself for a teenager wearing a spandex unitard.”

His hand slipped from the railing, and he stumbled to keep his footing. MJ’s shoulders shook with repressed laughter as she watched him, forgetting for a moment how hot out it was. “It’s not spandex!”

Michelle reached out and touched his arm. He froze. She chuckled. “It sure feels like spandex.”

“Well, it’s not,” he said a bit defensively. He nodded to her book. “What are you reading?”

“A Secret History by,” she checked the cover, “Donna Tartt.”

He nodded. “Is it any good?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, I’ve actually read it before, though. I ran out of new books and I’m too lazy to go to the library so I just picked up an old one.” She shrugged.

“Maybe I’ll go get it after the superhero gig tonight,” he said. She held out the book to him. He just looked at her, then at the book. “What?”

She rolled her eyes. “I was offering for you to borrow it, dipshit.”

His eyes widened again—it was actually a little creepy how they dilated; like, how did they know when to dilate? “Really?” He squeaked, reaching out to grab the book.

She pulled her hand back. “You’re not a serial killer, are you?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“What? No, I’m a superhero,” he said, still holding his hand out. “Why is that part of the vetting process for borrowing one of your books?” He made little grabby motions with his fingers.

“I feel like being a serial killer goes hand-in-hand with ruining borrowed books,” she said, narrowing her eyes. She handed him the book. “But if you damage it, I’ll kill you—friendly neighborhood Spider-man my ass.”

“Who’s the killer now?” He joked. Then he tilted his head to the side. “Well, I’ve got to go. Duty calls!” He reached his arm out and shot a web, swinging off the balcony with the book in his other hand.

“Don’t you dare drop it!” She called after his retreating form. She shook her head, not sure why she was smiling.

———————————————————

Michelle saw Spider-man again two days later. She was out reading on the fire escape again when he landed with a soft thud. She didn’t look up right away, determined to finish one last page.

He cleared his throat.

“I know you’re there,” she said.

“Oh.”

MJ let out a hum, reaching blindly for her bookmark and slipping it between the pages of her book. She looked up at him. “What do you want, Spider-pig?” She smiled to herself at her inside joke, remembering that day in biology with Peter.

He held her copy of A Secret History out to her. “I finished. It was really good—I can see why you enjoyed it.” She took the book from his hands, peering at him from her chair. His eyes narrowed at her.

“What do you want? I can tell you want something,” she deadpanned.

“What should I call you?” He hopped up onto the railing. Her eyes widened a fraction watching him. He chuckled, “I’m not going to fall. Spider-man, remember?” He mimed shooting webs out of his wrists in rapid succession.

“You can call me Michelle.”

“Really? Your friends call you Michelle?” He swung his feet back and forth, leaning back over the railing so his body hung precariously over the alleyway below to grab a piece of garbage floating in the breeze.

“No. I have a nickname, but you can call me Michelle.” She didn’t just let anybody call her M or MJ, and just because he could swing around the city on wisps of silk didn’t mean he deserved special treatment from her.

He huffed a breath. “Fair enough. You look nice today. How have you been?”

Wow, that was a lot to unpack. She looked nice? She was wearing a ratty old painting shirt that hung below her knees and her hair was up in a topknot. How had she been? Well—

She decided to ignore the first comment. “I’ve been fine. I painted today so now my back hurts, but beauty is pain, right?” She said, gesturing to her paint-stained t-shirt.

“You have paint on your face,” was his only reply. He leaned forward, reaching his hand out toward her cheek, “Here, let me.” He brushed his finger over where she assumed the paint was, but then his eyes narrowed and he ran a finger over the spot again.

“It won’t come off, Idiot. It’s dry.” She smirked at him as he withdrew his hand.

“You didn’t punch me,” he breathed.

She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t. Don’t get too comfortable, though—I might be in a bad mood next time you try to pull shit like that.” She mimed a quick sucker punch, then blew on her fist as if to cool it off.

Spider-man laughed at her antics. “You could give most common criminals a run for their money, you know.”

She shrugged, looking down at her hands. The paint under her fingernails seemed way more interesting than it had earlier that day when she had opted not to spend twenty minutes cleaning it out. “I learned from experience. My dad—” She stopped herself before she could say anything more. That was too much information; information she hadn’t even told her best friends, that she definitely did not want to tell an almost-stranger.

She was saved by a ding coming from next to her on the chair. She picked up her phone.

Four dipshits and a Michelle:

Ned: Has anyone seen Peter? We were supposed to meet to build the millennium falcon.

MJ snorted. She quickly typed out a reply.

MJ: Nope. He probably stayed late at the stupid Stark internship.

MJ: Also, you’re both total dweebs.

She looked up to see that Spider-man wasn’t sitting on the railing anymore. She almost had a heart-attack when she heard a voice right next to her ear. “Peter… Peter Parker?”

She squawked, turning around to see him upside down in an army-crawl position on the wall behind her. “Never,” she panted, “do that again.” Then his words registered. “Wait, you really know him?”

Spider-man propped his head up on his elbows. “Yeah, I know him—from the, uh, the Stark internship—which, by the way, is not stupid.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “It’s rude to read someone else’s messages.”

“Well, I got to go,” he said suddenly. “I have somewhere I need to be.” He shot a web to the roof of the building next to hers and launched himself off the fire escape, disappearing as quickly as he’d come. Michelle looked down at the book in her lap. “Hey!” She looked up to see a red and white mask peering at her from above. “What book are you reading?!”

“The Assistant by Bernard Malamud!” She called back.

He gave her a thumbs up and disappeared again.

She waited, but he didn’t come back a second time.

Part 7

[yourdeepestfathoms]

everything great about Burlington Carrie

i’m slowly watching every version of Carrie the musical on YouTube and rating them, so we’re kicking this off with Burlington Carrie!

The musical starts with fire alarms, police sirens, fire roaring, and people screaming, which is such a cool way to open the performance! Then they end and are replaced with a heartbeat that gets faster and faster, and agh! I love it!

Right off the bat, gotta say this show gets a point for having an actual set. As much as I love BK and Seattle, the lack of background and set pieces really throws off the immersiveness.

This show also doesn’t have the “everyone wears red” thing going on like BK and Seattle did, which I enjoy because in the book Carrie wasn’t allowed to wear red. 

Also, the ages in this cast are a little strange. Mostly all the students look like college kids, but the Chris looks like she’s in her thirties and Carrie looks like she’s fifteen, maybe sixteen. A little odd, but hey. If Chris is supposed to be an adult bullying a child, then I could get on board with that!

For the opening choreo in In, Sue kinda gets blocked and thrown around and then circled, which is something I’ve never seen before! It’s really cool looking! I love the way she stops being scared and starts singing with the others in a blink of an eye.

THEY LET MISS GARDENER SAY “you can choke on it for all I care” HELL YEAH

Miss G throws a basketball at one of the girls 

Really enjoying how they actually play a sport during the gym par of In. I love the choreo where the dances look like they’re playing, don’t get me wrong, but something about seeing these girls throw around a basketball feels a lot more immersive.

Cynthia Reynolds, the girl who plays Carrie, really goes hard with the whole “shy girl” mannerisms and I love it. She is so cute.

Carrie’s loud “WHAT” when Sue says she got her period

Also holy shit, Cynthia is actually naked. Like, I’ve always been under the assumption that the actresses wear a strapless bra and at least shorts or underwear under the towel, but no she has nothing around her chest. 

Good for her for doing that! If that were me and there was a wardrobe malfunction and the towel fell off, I would just die. Like, cancel the rest of the show, I can’t recover from that.

Chris’s face when Sue said Miss G isn’t a lesbian

(She is)

Cynthia’s vibrato in the opening note of Carrie is AMAZING

I love angry Carrie is! Both the character and the song!

Carrie falls to her knees and whimpers because of cramps in the middle of Carrie (song)

Look at this cutie!!

I love how unflattering Carrie’s clothes are. Like, it’s a wrinkly white shirt, a tan jacket with one (1) button buttoned, and fucking khakis that look way too tight for her legs. I love it.

Every time I watch a new version of Carrie, I always get nervous that the girl who plays Carrie won’t be able to hold the notes, since Carrie is an extremely difficult role, but Cynthia does a really good job! She has such a pretty voice, too!

Billy feels up and slaps Carrie’s thigh during the scene with all the boys

Carrie already looks like she’s about to burst into tears at the start of And Eve Was Weak

Where as in Seattle Carrie was on her knees for most of the song and in BK she was shoved around, here Carrie gets grabbed by the hair a lot and cowers. She also gets her arm twisted.

Carrie’s screams as she’s being pulled into the closet are heartbreaking!!!!

Billy snorts crack at the start of the party scene

The guys pick up Chris in The World According The Chris which was pretty damn cool

During the beginning of the show, they had chairs for the period scene, but for the scene where they’re actually in a classroom they make the kids sit on the floor lol

Carrie hugging her backpack in class, poor baby is so anxious

When Mr. Stephens was talking about who had the best poem and says that person should stand and read, Sue starts to get up and then immediately turns around and goes 😬 when Tommy’s name is said

But she’s supportive we stan

“Yeah, Tommy boy! That’s my baby!!!” -Billy

After Dreamer In Disguise, Sue immediately takes the poem from Tommy and starts reading it lol

The way Carrie says “it was beautiful” was so cute!!!

Billy mocks what Carrie said about Tommy’s poem in the most gay voice omg

The way Carrie speaks in this show is really in character for her. It’s kinda choppy and stammered. She. Talks. Like. This. There’s pauses and she stutters a lot and it fits so well!

Carrie SCREAMS at Sue WOW

Miss Gardener absolutely just tears into the girls during gym. She’s just insulting them left and right!

Have I mentioned that I love this Miss Gardener? Because she’s REALLY GOOD. Major props to Mackenzie Smith!!

The way Frieda says “sorry, Carrie” is a lot funnier than it probably should have been

Also Helen’s “Sorry????”

This Carrie is so fragile. Chris says she eats shit and she bursts into tears.

Carrie’s expression in the opening part of Unsuspecting Hearts.... She’s so sad

Also the bags under her eyes are HUGE does she ever SLEEP

Miss Gardener tries to dance with Carrie!!!! It’s so cute!!!!!

The way Miss Gardener spreads her arms and then Carrie looks down at her own and slowly copies her is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen

They t-posin

Even closer

Carrie immediately hugs Miss Gardener, it’s so cute!!

Carrie’s big grin and the way she says “thank you” after she gets invited to prom has my heart melting

The anger from Cynthia and Jillian (Margaret) in I Remember How Those Boys Could Dance is so powerful!!!!!

Instead of closing the windows, Carrie pins Margaret up against the wall with her telekinesis, which is a really interesting take on that part of the song that I’ve never seen before!

We love Carrie eating pie while watching her mom cry against a wall

So during A Night We’ll Never Forget, they have it set up where Norma, Frieda, Helen, Stokes, Freddie, and George are in class and singing about their plans for prom and Miss Gardener is reacting to what they’re saying. Another interesting take on the prom and very entertaining!

Look at this baby! Look at her with her hair down!

Isn’t she just the cutest little thing?

After Margaret calls Carrie a fool in Stay Here Instead she instantly flinches away like she’s scared

“I NEVER SHOULD HAVE LET YOU LIVE!!!” “Then why did you, Mama?” WOAHHH NEW LINES

Carrie grabs Tommy’s hand with both of hers

The way Carrie says “no shit” oh my god

Miss Gardener in her dress has me Big Gay

“After prom a few of us are going--” “OKAY”

Frieda clapping when Helen says prom king and queen insults women

MR. STEPHENS DANCING DURING PROM CLIMAX

Miss Gardener’s reaction to that

ALSO CARRIE GETS DOWN IN PROM CLIMAX HELL YEAH!!!!!

Her reacting to herself dancing and then giggling over it

She dances with Frieda!!

After Carrie and Tommy get announced prom king and queen, Carrie goes around hugging everyone and it’s SO CUTE

She launches herself into Mr. Stephens and he stumbles back slightly

And now we get to what is probably the best The Destruction scene I have ever seen before

FIRST OF ALL, the blood mainly goes all the way down Cynthia’s back, so she has to smear it on her dress and face, but I LOVE how dark red it is! 

Next, during “our father who art in heaven” she breaks down into sobs and it’s so heartbreaking!!!

On the first “oh my god” she slams her hand back against the wall and smears the blood. The look of terror on her face as she looks at her hands is incredible!!!!

During the Note Of Death, Cynthia has to shift her pitch to hit the note, but she ends it with a scream, which sounds so good!!! I still think Keaton sang the song better, but Cynthia had so much emotion!!

When the massacre begins, everyone starts to scream and run around in a panic instead of Carrie controlling them all and make them wiggle around like in BK and Seattle. Instead, she kills them one by one as they frenzy around and try to escape. They all cry and scream at the ones who died to get up. There’s also a “fire” going and it’s just so good!!!!

As Carrie slowly walks out of the prom, Chris screams at her. And then everyone starts to cry and moan and call for help as the lights fade to black and holy shit it’s so chilling.

Cynthia cries out her lines over the prom instead of whispering them. It’s so heartbreaking to see and hear her sob and wail! And she continues to do so even as Jillian sings the reprise of Carrie.

My god the SCREAMS after Margaret dies! The EMOTION! I actually started crying because it’s just so sad!

Sue pulls Carrie into her arms even as she wails and shrieks and cries with her, which hurts even more!!!!

AND OH MY GOD THIS PART

When Sue sings alone during the end of Epilogue and all the kids part and there is Carrie, bloodied, staring blankly forward, and Sue just sings to her in tears

AND THEN CARRIE TURNS AND JUST LOOKS AT HER AND AAAGH 

GO WATCH THIS PRODUCTION THE ENDING WILL KILL YOU IF CYNTHIA!CARRIE’S ADORABLENESS DOESN’T

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 11: Plummet

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Eleven: Plummet

Note: I loved hearing your comments as always! Glad your all enjoying the fic so far! I think there will probably only be one more chapter of this arc after this. Maybe two. Then we will be returning to the one we were in before this. I need to come up with a name for it. Maybe the Island Arc? No, that’s lame. Give me your ideas lol! And check the endnotes, please. I have something special for you today :D

(-~-)

It felt like a lifetime since the young teenage girl had clambered on board the van, the cramped confines of the interior of the vehicle and the number of strangers she was forced into close contact with only heightening her level of dismay and disillusionment. A thousand and one things were running through her head at every second, dragging the short time that she’d spent in transit to safety into what felt like hours. Never before had she felt so helpless against an opponent who might very well take the life of someone she cared about, not even when her grandparents had fallen dead at her feet. At least she could say that she had tried to save them, bashing one of the strangers who had attacked them in the back with a wooden log that had been laying nearby.

But when V had told her that he wanted her to leave, she had frozen. And in her panic, she had honored his request. That was something that she was going to have to live with for the rest of her life, and something that she didn’t know how she would cope with. There was a certain level of expectation that people had towards the possibility that their family would at least try and protect them, but for a stranger to risk everything time after time to help someone that they had only met that day? Unheard of. Despite her young age, there was a part of her that genuinely wanted to do something about what had occurred that day, a deep, buried part of her crying out for the justice that they both deserve.

“He didn’t even know me, and he still was willing to die to save me. And I just left him behind. What does that say about me?”

Morgan hadn’t noticed that she’d said that out loud until one of the other people in the vehicle with had shaken their head and shrugged nebulously. “Well, if you didn’t know each other, then why are you beating yourself up about it? Why do you care so much?”

The statement was enough in of its self to make her get out of the car and walk the rest of the way. A feeling of profound disgust rose up in the pit of her stomach, the entire van suddenly being far too hot for her liking. If she was willing to guess, and she was, the passenger that had spoken to her just now was far from the type who would have willingly pulled over their car to assist her. And while there was a part of her that understood their viewpoint and the concept of self-preservation at any cost, she couldn’t help but feel abject horror at the thought of being so selfish. But that didn’t mean that she wasn’t smart enough to stay quiet about it lest she risk being kicked to the curb. She didn’t know these people, and she had no idea what they were capable of.

“Ge, I don’t know, because he cares about me, ya know? Because he saved my life more than once today! Because I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him!” Morgan huffed in frustration, trying to hold back the frustrated tears that were trying to escape her eyes. She refused to sit there and cry in a van with a bunch of strangers like a little kid, no matter the context. “You don’t have to know a stranger to help a stranger. He’s proof of that. I mean, if you saw a kid about to get hit by a car, wouldn’t you try and save them?”

The stranger shrugged. “Can’t say that I would. I’m not trying to get hit by a car. I have a family, too. Maybe I’d call the ambulance afterward or something, but I’m not running out into the street for a stranger. It’s not like I don’t care, I just care less about them than I do myself. Nothing wrong with that. And besides, they probably wouldn’t even appreciate what I did for them, knowing my luck. That’s just how it is.”

Morgan sighed sadly. “I don’t need them to feel thankful to know I did something right. I just need to know that I did my best. I can live with that.”

It occurred to her at that moment that maybe she wasn’t as good at hiding what she truly thought as she had thought she was. There was a part of her that was deeply frustrated by the fact that her newfound companion had stayed behind to buy them time, and that some of the people in the car could have such a devil may care attitude about it. “Better him than me” they were probably thinking. And she couldn’t abide by that. As soon as she made it to town, she was going to find the police, and she was going to do her very best to get help for her friend. That was all she could do now, and she knew that regardless of how much she didn’t want to, she was going to have to live with that reality for the rest of her life. 

Deep down she wanted to believe that she had done the right thing, but she couldn’t be sure, and the not knowing about what had become of him was probably the worst part. After all, it would be pitch black outside in a short while. It would be cold and desolate, and he was alone against everyone who was out to get them both. How on earth would he contend with such staggering odds on his own? He didn’t come off to her as the survivalist sort.

What on earth was V going to do now?

(-~-)

Once the unfortunate reality of the situation that he’d gotten himself into truly set in, so did the panic. But thankfully, so did the instinct to turn that insurmountable fear into something that he could use against his opponents. He was moving through quick-drying cement, and he knew it. Now his best course of action was to try his very best to get out of it before he was locked into place and couldn’t escape.

In a strange mixture of initiative and calm, especially given the dire situation that he found himself in, V decided to get to work coming up with a solution. The authorities had already been contacted. Now what he needed to do was make it somewhere somewhat safe and stay out of the realm of detection of his enemies. The fact that they were armed and fully willing to kill him did make that considerably more difficult, but that was just something that he was going to have to deal with accordingly.

“Morgan said that the bag was somewhere over here,” V said quietly under his breath as he dug through the pile of snow nearest to where he and Morgan had fallen down the mountain. Despite the fact that he had literally never been in the town before that day except when he’d passed through to move to Lympha, he understood the layout somewhat. It was a tiny place with mostly log cabins, and the hill that they had come down held a domineering position behind the place. When they had said that they had been living in the shadow of the larger town for as long as they could remember, he had to believe that they meant that literally. And he’d feel bad for them in that respect if they hadn’t just tried to kill him.

What kind of desperation and madness drew people to commit the kinds of acts that these people had decided to commit? He hoped that he would never understand. He didn’t want to. That would mean that at least once he would have to stand in their shoes and think as they did. V liked to think that he had more dignity and self-respect than to lower himself to that kind of level. He liked to think that he would never do something like what they had done, and although he was nearly certain that he wouldn’t, he had never been put in such a situation. But at the very least, he wouldn’t have done so willingly, and he would have done so as a last resort. From what he could tell, they had been more than happy to go along with the demands of their adversaries for whatever reason.

To his satisfaction and relief, a moment later, V located the bag that he’d brought with them and sifted through it. There would be a time and a place to bring it back with him, but this wasn’t it. At this point, it would only serve to slow him down. No, he would leave it there, hidden in the snow until he returned. But he was going to bring one thing that he’d seen Morgan slip into the bag during their trip.

It seemed that the knife might be a good idea after all. 

He hoped that he would get the opportunity to tell Morgan that.

As soon as he rounded the corner and stepped into the middle of the intersection again, an all too familiar vehicle rounded the corner from the top of the hill and came barreling at him. It was the truck that they had escaped earlier. The instant they saw him, the driver floored the gas, barreling at him at top speed. From what he could tell, they were planning to hit him, apparently so angry that he had managed to escape that they were fully ready to just kill him and be over and done with the entire situation. Things had just escalated to a degree that he hadn’t expected them to.

With a level of reaction time that he didn’t know he possessed, V dived across the street into the snow and out of the reach of the truck, the old vehicle hitting the breaks a few seconds after passing him, but sliding on the ice instead. The sheer momentum caused by the speed that they were going send them sliding sideways at a dangerous speed, the truck flipping onto its side and rolling before making impact with one of the buildings nearest to the road. From what he could tell, it was a bar of some sort.

Shards of wood rained down and the truck tore a massive hole through the side of the well-worn building, eliciting shouts and curses from its passengers. One could only hope that the building was empty at that moment, but he couldn’t’ find the mental energy to care that much. He was torn between waiting to see if they were still alive and running for his life, the logical center of his brain not so subtly reminding him of the fact that the men in the truck were not the only ones hunting him down.

Just then, one of the doors to another building close to them popped open, a hooded head sticking out followed by two others. While the first two ran over to the truck and attempted to force the truck doors open on the side that was still accessable, the other taller individual looked directly at him. For a moment, they stared at one another, V’s breath coming slowly as it threatened to catch in his throat. The only sound he heard was the dull doubled up rhythm of his heart beating in his chest as he stared down a man that he knew without question or hesitation wanted to end his life. And despite the fact that he couldn’t make out the individual’s face, he could see their eyes.

And he could feel their hate.

In a strange turn of events, they both acted at the same time. It was as if they were both on a starting line and the gun that signaled the start of the race had been fired, sending them both into a flurry of activity. Without much thought as to where he would land, V instantaneously overcame his fear of heights for a moment and tossed himself down the snow-covered hill, knowing somehow deep down that he could roll down the hill much faster than he could run down it. After all, he had done so earlier that day. It would put much-needed distance between him and his pursuers, even if his sore cut and bruise covered body didn’t exactly appreciate it at that moment.

Enough adrenaline to kill a humpback whale flooded his bloodstream as he clambered to his feet at the bottom of the hill, his heart hammering in his chest as he rushed forwards towards nothing in particular, hoping that he would be fast enough to make his escape. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that the mysterious man had yet to even reach the edge of the ridge, a strange and intriguing thing coming to mind as he considered the fact that he had covered much more distance in that short time than he ever had. V decided to simply pin it on the fact that he was most likely running faster than he ever had in his life, but the distance still seemed impossible to him. He had cleared at least three hundred yards in the time that it took him to register that he’d managed to get up and keep going, and he wasn’t going to complain.

Maybe greater speed and perseverance were granted to those in pearl, much like those in dire straits were sometimes able to lift egregious amounts of weight in order to save those that they loved. That was the only thing that he could think of. After all, he’d been athletic, but not in that kind of way. The only thing that years of ballet had probably imparted on him that would be helpful at this moment was endurance and balance. The ability to push himself to keep going beyond exhaustion, reason, and rationality was something that he’d always had to some degree, his mind working in microcosmos. If he looked at the entire situation as a whole while he was still in it, then he would more than likely falter due to the sheer magnitude of the existential horror that he’d find himself within the grips of. And in a situation like this, there was no time for that sort of thing. No time for anything aside from clear and decisive action at all costs. That was the only way that he was going to survive this.

Bruises would heal. Cuts would heal. His burning lungs and aching bones and feet and legs would be able to rest and he would recover. But he had to make it through this first. That kind of single-minded focus was the only thing that would keep him alive in this kind of situation. Whatever gods there were only knew that it sure as hell wouldn’t be his combat prowess. That was nonexistent, to say the least. No. He would run and run and run until he either escaped or dropped dead trying. Then their intentions for him wouldn’t matter in the slightest.

No, if they wanted him, they would have to kill him first. That was all there was to it. He utterly refused to go quietly. He would go kicking and screaming and hopefully take them with him. Because as full of pain and suffering and misery as his young life had been, he wasn’t willing to take his with the same level of silent acceptance that he had taken every other injustice that he’d been forced to deal with thus far. He’d been a child, incapable of doing anything meaningful about his situation then. There had been no recourse to try and alter his position. But he wasn’t a child anymore. He might barely be an adult, but that didn’t change anything as far as he was concerned.

V had no idea how long he had been running. Time was irrelevant to him at the point. He was beyond exhausted and cold and tired and hurt and all he wanted to do was stop. But if he stopped, then he was dead. The snow stung then he inhaled it, and his eyes burned as he tried to blink away the burning sensation that came from the bitter winter’s air. It was dark now, and he was certain that they were closing in on him. He had to be slowing down. There was no way that he had been able to upkeep that kind of relentless speed. But a quick glance over his shoulder told him that that wasn’t the case. His pursuers were barely visible behind him, meer black dots in a sea of white. And yet, somehow that only made him want to run faster. He was certain that he probably could if he wasn’t dredging through at least two feet of powdery snow.

And then he heard the crack followed by the echo, and dread hit him.

It didn’t take much to be able to tell that he had just been fired upon. He wasn’t that dense. The distinct crack of a rifle was something that he had heard many times before. The locals used them frequently to keep whatever came from the forest at bay. That and fire seemed to be the only things that warded of their fears. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d had to worry about little things like that. What a shame that it had come to this. Things had been so quiet once, even when they weren’t. And now he could never go back to that.

The open nature of the sprawling space that he found himself within meant that he had little in the way of cover. Running side to side was an obvious choice, but it caused extra leg work that he didn’t have time for. Maybe he could get lucky and they would just hit one of their own. But as he continued forward, the dull thud of something hitting him from behind took him off guard, tripping him up for a moment and nearly causing him to fall over. V inhaled sharply, mind discomfort numbed by the freezing air and the blinding snowy wind. He had no idea what to make of his situation, but he knew that it probably wasn’t good, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to stop to see how bad he was hurt. No, he would just tell himself that it was a simple graze and keep going. That was all he could do, and at least it didn’t hurt yet.

In a sudden and unwelcome turn of events, he happened through a small smattering of half-dead trees, the thin spindly branches serving as nothing but a barrier when he needed it least. As he passed through them, he suddenly found himself stuck, his coat having become snagged on one of the branches. As he attempted to pull free, he remembered his knife, pulling it from his coat pocket with what little mobility he could muster before attempting to use it to cut himself free. To his shock and dismay, the black-hooded man had finally caught up with him. Although the others were nearly a mile off in the distance, he knew that this wasn’t good. But at least they were on somewhat equal standing.

“You put up quite the chase, but you should have saved your strength. We need it for what is to come.” The hooded man reached out towards him, gripping the space between his neck and his shoulder. “Now stop. Were running late, and we are not the sort to be kept waiting.”

As if from nowhere, a second wave of energy hit him and he pulled away as hard as he could, crying out in fear. No, he would not go with him. Absolutely not. As if his hand were guided by a secondary source, he plunged the blade forward, catching his opponent dead center across part of their face. The blade hit against the tree behind him, snapping like a cheap lock as it embedded itself deep into the wood, nicking V’s hand in the process. The young white-haired man simply shrugged off his jacket at that point and ran, unwilling to try any longer to pull himself free. His momentum would hopefully be enough to stave off hypothermia. Anything was better than allowing this man another chance to take his life. As the man screamed and gripped his face, doubling over in the snow in pain, V gathered what remaining strength he had left and bolted forward into the unknown. 

From what he could tell, there was a ridge up ahead. He could hear the sound of rushing water, something that he hadn’t noticed before in his haste to escape. There were several things that he hadn’t noticed, like the fall leaves mixed in with the snow and the tall trees that bordered him on either side. This would be beautiful if not for the circumstances surround them. Another sort of terror gripped him as he tried to remain calm, his composure slipping. This was all too much at once. How on earth had he ended up in such a dire situation? There was no way that he could escape with rushing water in his path. A waterfall could be the end of him. Had he come this far just to drown at the very end in the freezing water? Was that all he could hope for? A better worse end?

The air held its chill in silent occupation as the light breeze kissed the powdered snow below his feet. Between his eyes, his hair stuck to his face. How uncharacteristic of him to sweat in the snow, especially with no jacket. The tall cypress trees proved to be a lively contrast to the towering evergreens that the shared space with, gently scattering leaves in every direction. They had been falling, much as he would be soon enough. It would either be here or at the hands of his pursuers.

During the time preceding this waking nightmare, everything had been silent. Simplicity and serenity had been all that he had sought out in this place in the first place, and much to his elation, he'd found it. But after a brief honeymoon period during which he'd grown quite fond of this little hamlet, everything had come crashing down around him like it always did. In the place of silence, there had been a sudden rush of sound. He hadn't been able to hear it from where he'd been, but he had seen it, and the growing guilt that he now felt as he stood at the precipice of his likely demise consumed everything inside him. He had been spared their fates only to meet his at the bottom of the rocks.

He told himself that it was thin ice. It was rushing water, after all. Somewhere beneath the surface was a small glimmer of hope that perhaps if he only dared to take the plunge he would have his liberation. He had to for the rest of them. After all, that was why he was standing there in the first place. Their sacrifice had been profound and selfless, and now he had a responsibility as the only one left to bring justice to those who had paved the path before him with their very blood.

With a last tentative breath, he glanced back fearfully, and then felt air rush past him. His descent had begun. As he approached the glowing white below him, everything went black. He hoped for the chance to open his eyes just one last time. He’d promised Morgan as much. But as his feet broke through the ice and a rush of blisteringly cold water engulfed him knocking every last ounce of air from his lungs, he was granted just enough time to wonder if he would ever get a chance to fulfill that promise before he lost consciousness.

(-~-)

Well, at least this is a prequel! I’m sure V will be alright *cries*. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! See you all next week and in the comments where I’m happy to answer any questions you might have! Also, I’ve decided to do something fun to lighten the mood and because I love interacting with you all: A STORY IDEA SUBMISSION FORM!

I’ve gotten so many cool ideas for side stories for Saudade from you guys that I’ve started to lose count! Feel free to go to the link below and add your suggestions. If I can find a way to fit them in, then I’ll be happy to do so! Also, they don’t have to be for that story. I’m still planning to go through the comments and see if I can find most of the requests, but if you’ve made one before, I’d love it if you added it here so I can find it easier. You can also put your username if you’d like so that I know who to gift/credit it to, but that’s up to you! Please check it out. It lakes about 2 minutes and only has like 5 questions. Thanks, everyone!

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1qCTCUvavsjnrOsnpWG_tahlX4FOZtDsR5p_q213FQ7o/edit?usp=sharing

[purplesurveys]

891

Could you live without power for a week? I wouldn’t die, but it would really suck because then I’d have to watch out for my phone’s and laptop’s battery life, plus it would be incredibly uncomfortable without electric fans and aircons...I wouldn’t die, but I’d hate it. When was the last time you slept on the floor? The day before I got sick. End of May.  Have you regretted anything you said today? No. I haven’t talked to anyone; it’s only 7:59 in the morning. What do you think about airport security? I think it’s essential. I understand why they have to be rigid; better that than not at all. How many doors are in your house? I just answered this on a recent survey, how interesting lol. 13.

Do you keep a journal? This is it. What was the last thing you wished for? A tray of baked sushi. Do you pray? No. Do you like it when your date pays, or do you feel bad? I feel bad, but I’m also appreciative. I only let her pay when I’m short, or when I’m craving a certain restaurant but don’t have the budget for it that day. Most of the time we prefer splitting the bill. Do you spoil your friends? Just my girlfriend.  Are cramped places scary? Not for the most part but my anxiety will sometimes get triggered. But what happens and what sucks about it is that it gets set off at the most random times, so I never really know when I’m bound to get scared. Would you ever consider riding in a trunk? If it was a dare and I’d be paid handsomely for it then I don’t see why not. Does it irritate you when a fellow passenger brings lots of luggage? No. Their business shouldn’t bother me. Ever been leeched by a leech? Nope. Have you ever lied to make someone dislike you? Why would I actively make someone dislike me? Ever had a fear of mirrors? No, I find them fascinating. All four walls in the elevators of the hotel that my mom works in are mirrors, and they’re fun to take photos with haha. What song can you not stop listening to? Right now it’ssssss no song without you - HONNE. Do you take vitamins? Yeah we take vitamin C tablets every night, but sometimes I’ll forget. What's the longest you've stayed at a hotel? A week. Do you buy your music or download? I stream them on Spotify. I used to either buy CDs (usually if I was a big fan of the artist/band) or convert YouTube audio to MP4 to transfer it to my iTunes. Do any of your friends grow weed? No. Not that I know of, at least. Do you like arguing? I don’t like fighting, but if by arguing you mean having a respectful and civil debate then yes, those are fun. Does it bother you when people don't say goodbye before hanging up? It doesn’t really bother me? It just confuses me haha. I need a verbal cue to know when I can hang up. If the person on the line doesn’t say bye I’ll just linger on the phone waiting until it starts to feel awkward and I go initiate the bye instead. Have you ever owned an unlucky object? I don’t believe in those. Do you think voodoo works? No but it’s funny to think about sometimes, in a childish way. What habit do you find most disgusting? I really hate seeing people spit in public. Usually it’s truck drivers or their co-drivers. I always encounter at least one spitter while driving everyday, and it has never failed to make me shudder. Do you often feel ignored? It’s not a strong feeling, no. Can you read music? This is on every survey lately... no I can’t.

Are you optimistic? Sometimes. I think I’m a healthy balance of that and pessimism. Does it scare you to walk over sewer vents in the street? Yes. I always avoid them or skip over them, especially the ones that are already obviously unstable and wobble when someone steps on them. Is your lifestyle healthy or unhealthy? Unhealthy. I don’t watch what I eat and I’ve never entered a gym. But idk, the genes on my mom’s side are impressive and all of us have decent physiques and never get sick – my grandma is 74 but can honestly pass for 50 – so I must’ve taken after that side of the family. Is it easy for you to remember stuff? Yeah, very. Except for numbers. Last electronic object you drowned? That has never happened to any of my gadgets, fortunately. How well do you handle responsibility? Depends how comfortable I am with the task at hand and how much I already have on my plate, if ever. But I never not get anything done. I’m very deadline-driven and everyone who knows me knows I turn in everything asked of me at the end of the day, even if I don’t think I did well enough. Are you afraid of getting old? Sometimes I’ll start to get scared at how short life actually is and what can possibly happen after it, but these are fleeting thoughts. I like living in the present. What's something you wish you could start over? College. Just so I can do my freshman year the way I actually wanted it to go. Are you a loud person? In certain situations. I love being loud with my friends in a bar or when we’re at an amusement park, but I prefer that we don’t make a ruckus at the mall or at a restaurant. Do you believe in guns? No. I honestly don’t understand those who buy it for themselves when they can get other weapons if they’re really hell-bent on self-defense. But idk, I guess I’m speaking from a place (like, a literal place lol) where it’s extremely uncommon for ordinary people to get themselves guns. Are porcelain dolls attractive, or scary? Neither. I just find them a little unsettling, but not scary. Are you friends with someone because you feel bad for them? Not currently. But one time I did try to befriend someone who would be considered a loner, but I realized we had different personalities and interests so I stopped talking to her after a while. Oops. Do you like back rubs? No, I’m ticklish. Do you give good ones? No.

Which of your friends provides the most stimulating conversations? All of them do, to tell the truth. I guess I’m just automatically drawn to intelligent people haha. Do you wish to go to London? It’s not high up on my list but eh, sure. Have you ever felt like you were in a movie? No. I feel that movies are outlets for situations that would never happen in real life, so I’ve never felt as if I was in one. Do you drink enough water daily? I don’t drink the ~recommended~ amount but I still the drink the most in my family. Is burning things fun? I’d rather watch other people burn things. I’m scared of fire, so.

Do you like morbid things? Some. Can you sew? Nope. Have you ever just sat and read a dictionary? Oh my god yeah... after I watched Akeelah and the Bee for the first time I wanted to start joining spelling bees too, so I’d whip out my dictionary almost everyday and start reading the words. There were never any competitions to join here, but from 4th to 7th grade we would have spelling quizzes in our English language class and I aced all of those. Whose cooking do you most despise? No one’s. I love the cooking of all my loved ones. When you were little, did your parents make you sit in the corner? No but in school they made me do it once, for something that wasn’t my fault. My parents didn’t have any methods to discipline me because I was mostly a well-behaved kid anyway. Red roses, or black roses? Red. Do you blast your music concert-loud? I used to. Don’t really do it anymore. Do any of your exes bother you? Nope. Do you like taking pictures of yourself? Hell no. The camera has never been my friend. How about just taking pictures? I like taking photos of my dogs, my best friends, the food I eat, and new places I go to. So to an extent, I do. I don’t dabble in photography though; I just like taking snapshots.

Is cheaper really better? Sometimes, especially when you’re naturally good at hunting down that kind of stuff. My sister will sometimes find Zara jeans or jackets for like ₱80 at an ukay-ukay lol Last thing you ordered from Amazon? I’ve never ordered anything off of Amazon. Or do you prefer ebay? Never ordered from eBay either. Are you good at writing cards for people? I love writing letters for my loved ones. I never buy cards that already have text in them as I want the whole thing to come from me. Do you like camping? I’ve never tried it so I wouldn’t know. I want to go camping at least once though, and with my best friends. Last place you were stranded? The highway. Do you like dragonflies? Omg no they freak me outtt. How many pages is the novel you're currently reading? I’ve started to reread Little Women because I’m planning to watch the 2019 adaptation, but I’m not sure how many pages it has. What's something everybody's never heard of? The sound of a tree falling in the middle of the jungle that no person is currently in. Hahaha that was my philosophy professor’s favorite example to use. Are your talents recognized? I think they are, yes. Can you handle silence for long periods of time? Only if I need it. Otherwise it tends to make me uneasy. Do you do well against temptation? For the most part, yep. But if food is involved I usually fail lol

[jungwooisms]

[9:53 PM] - Peak PC Room, Seoul

“You’ve gotta freeze the wave,” A hand on your shoulder as you can barely hear Donghyuck’s voice almost shouting over the loud pinging reverberating around your ears. His finger points to various sections of your screen as he tries to describe what the different abilities of the character are. The headphones blocking out almost all outside noise, your brow furrows as you try and listen to whatever garbled sentence he’s trying to convey to you. The screen’s a mess of colors and moving characters- minions? As you try and decipher just what in the hell you’re looking at. In all honesty you’d come to visit him to stop him from playing League all night, not join in with him. “Freeze the wave, you’ve gotta walk up and then shoot them with your minigun.”

“Donghyuck,” You glance up at him, “I’m going to be honest and say I have no idea what’s going on right now.” He’s already moving to his own desktop adjacent to you, his character coming into view in the corner of your screen.

“We’re laning together,” He says it simply, as if you know what it means. Leaning back in his chair he intertwines his hands and cracks his fingers, only then to release them and set his left hand on his keyboard and his right on his mouse. “Soon enough you’ll become my protégé, maybe you’ll be the next Faker.” A sigh as he then focuses on his screen, gaze intensifying as his character moves around your own.

“Who’s Faker?” Attention returning to your own screen you look to begin killing the small minions appearing the the lane.

Donghyuck’s hand waves you off, “That’s a question for another day, I’ll get you into SKT later. Just focus on autoing minions and trying to zone off Caitlyn with your W.”

There’s a lot of typing, screaming, and pinging running throughout the headset, as well as the room, over the course of the next half hour. Albeit it wasn’t just the two of you, a mix of others also playing LoL, some playing DoTA, Starcraft and WoW also joining in the clamor every once in a while. Your fingers feel cramped from the position you’d had them in, stretching them isn’t working to loosen them as you look at the words ‘Victory’ pop up on your screen.

Throughout the game you managed to die only a handful of time but you weren’t sure that was a good thing or not. Your boyfriend seems to think it’s a pretty big achievement, rolling over in his chair to give you a peck on your forehead, “Not a bad KDA for your first try.” He smiles, thinking for a moment, “By the end of the season I could see you in Diamond IV.”

There was something addictive about the gameplay, but maybe that’s because you were playing with Donghyuck, who’d seemingly carried the whole team on his back. Or maybe it was because you were getting the hang of it after a while. “Thanks,” you nod, taking the headset off and putting it beside the desktop. “I did come all the here to tell you to stop playing, I was going to incentivize you by asking if you wanted to get pizza.” Shoulders shrugging, “But I think it’s too late now.”

A glace to the clock at the bottom of his screen. “It’s not that late,” he muses, holding a hand to his stomach for dramatic effect, “come to think of it, I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

You roll your eyes knowing that he’d eaten out with his friends around lunchtime, “I guess we have to get you food then.” Before he’s able to hop up to get ready to leave you speak up, “But what about we just grab something to eat here instead? I kind of want to play another game.”

It almost cartoonish the way his eyes widened, if they opened any wider you’d think they'd pop out of his head. “Yeah- no that’s fine. You want to play another? You’re not just doing this for me, are you?” He sits back down in his chair, brow furrowed as he looks to see if you’re lying or not.

Shaking your head, “I genuinely want to play another game.” 

Mouth agape he can only stare for a solid six seconds, he blinks as if that’s going to make him assured that he heard you correctly. “Alright then, let’s queue up,” an eager smile lighting up his lips as he turns back to his desktop, barely able to contain himself.