#The first house I have the most memories in didn't have any heating or air. Just a woodstove and some shitty window air conditioning

[spaceacerat]

Last night was certainly a trip. My mother came up and brought two of the girl scout cookie crates full of photos they found in her closet. Thought all the photos had been burned by my dad and older sister when they put the VHS tapes and photos in the shed and got them destroyed. It was an emotional Rollercoaster towards the end there.

Anyways, I don't know why I feel the need to share this, but eh. Picture of when mom got us our first computer and internet. It was a Dell or Intel from Walmart. Her ex was teaching us how to use it and set it up while visiting with one of my older sisters. Must've been 2007-2008? No headphones, just speakers, so anyone could hear what you were listening to if you didn't keep it on low and hold it up to your ear.

It was so funny to see us all just standing around staring at it like some Thing. I thought computers were just something my uncle and school had at the time, so it was Bizarre. Pretty sure we got one before my parents got their first cellphones in what I think was 2009-2010. I remember getting my dad's flip phone later when he upgraded to a slightly bigger one his fingers could actually hit properly. 2000s was such a strange time after growing up like I was being raised in the 80s-90s for so long.

[its-avalon-08]

Can you write me something for Lando? Where his girlfriend is scared, he's going to leave her because everyone eventually does. (Like a bad home life and never had good relationships) And she's just waiting for Lando to dump her, but Lando resizes this and assures her that she is it for him and he would never abandon her.

i'm never giving up on you (ln4)

avaspeaks: at this point i'm just a lando norris fanclub, and i have no issue with it whatsoever

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, neglect, fears of abandonment, comfort

Y/N sat in the dimly lit living room of her small apartment, the shadows on the walls a stark contrast to the memories that haunted her. Her fingers traced the worn edges of a photo album she had found while cleaning earlier, each page a painful reminder of her past.

Growing up, Y/N's home life was far from stable. Her parents' relationship had been a volatile cocktail of arguments and broken promises, their voices often raised in anger rather than love. The air in their house had always felt thick with tension, a palpable force that suffocated any semblance of comfort or security.

Y/N flipped through the album, her eyes lingering on a picture of her younger self. She was smiling, but the smile didn't reach her eyes, even then. Her parents stood on either side of her, forced grins plastered on their faces for the camera. She remembered that day clearly—it had been one of the few times they had tried to act like a normal family, but the effort was short-lived.

As the years went by, the arguments escalated, and the once infrequent absences of her father turned into a permanent departure. Her mother, already struggling with her own demons, fell into a deep depression, leaving Y/N to fend for herself. She became a master of hiding her pain, putting on a brave face at school while silently dealing with the chaos at home.

Friendships came and went, most of them fleeting. Y/N had learned early on not to get too attached, as people seemed to drift away just when she started to rely on them. Her heart had been broken too many times, not by romantic relationships, but by the countless times she had opened up to someone, only for them to leave.

Closing the album with a sigh, Y/N glanced around her apartment. It was small but cozy, a space she had made her own. The walls were adorned with pictures of places she hoped to visit one day, a reminder of dreams she refused to let go of, despite everything. Yet, the emptiness of the apartment echoed the loneliness that had been her constant companion.

Meeting Lando had been a beacon of light in her otherwise dark world. His infectious energy and genuine kindness had drawn her in, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a glimmer of hope. But with that hope came fear—the fear that he, too, would eventually leave, just like everyone else.

The sound of the front door opening pulled Y/N from her thoughts. She quickly wiped away a tear that had escaped, not wanting Lando to see her like this. She loved him deeply, but the scars of her past were not easily forgotten.

Lando entered the room, his eyes immediately finding hers. He could sense something was wrong, the way she held herself, the distant look in her eyes. He walked over and sat beside her on the couch, his presence a comforting contrast to the turmoil in her mind.

"Hey," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Are you okay?"

Y/N took a deep breath, forcing a smile. "Yeah baby, I'm okay"

time skip

The tension in the apartment was palpable as Lando and Y/N stood facing each other in the living room. The argument had started innocuously enough—a simple conversation about their busy schedules—but it had quickly escalated into a heated exchange.

"I just don't understand why you can't make more time for us," Y/N said, her voice tinged with frustration. "You're always so busy with races, interviews, and events. I feel like we're barely together anymore."

Lando ran a hand through his hair, his patience wearing thin. "I have obligations, Y/N. This is my career we're talking about. I can't just drop everything whenever I want."

"I'm not asking you to drop everything," she retorted, her eyes flashing with anger. "I'm asking you to make an effort. I want to feel like a priority, not just another item on your to-do list."

"That's not fair," Lando shot back. "You know how demanding this job is. I can't control the schedule. And it's not like you don't have your own commitments."

Y/N crossed her arms, her voice rising. "But I still try to make time for us! You promised me that we'd find a balance, but it feels like I'm the only one trying."

Lando's frustration boiled over. "I’m doing the best I can! Why can't you see that?"

"Because it doesn't feel like it!" she shouted, tears of anger and hurt welling up in her eyes. "I'm tired of feeling like I'm the only one making an effort in this relationship."

A heavy silence fell between them, the weight of their words hanging in the air. Lando shook his head, his expression a mix of frustration and helplessness. "I'm driving around the bloody globe and this - Y/N I'm just- I need some air," he muttered, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door.

Y/N watched him leave, her heart sinking. She stood there for a moment, her mind racing with thoughts of abandonment. This was it, she thought. This was when he would realize it wasn't worth the effort and leave her like everyone else had.

Y/N sat on the balcony, the cool night air brushing against her skin. The city lights flickered in the distance, but her mind was far away, lost in the painful memories that had shaped her.

She was six years old, hiding under the kitchen table as her parents screamed at each other. Her father’s voice was a thunderstorm, her mother’s a desperate plea. "I can’t take it anymore, Marie! I’m done!" Her father stormed out, slamming the door so hard it rattled the windows. He never came back.

Years later, her mother’s addiction had taken hold. Y/N would find her passed out on the couch, empty bottles and needles scattered around. "Mom, please," she would whisper, shaking her gently. "Wake up." But her mother’s eyes remained closed, her body unresponsive. Social services came and went, but nothing ever changed. The house felt emptier with each passing day.

Her first boyfriend seemed kind at first, but the facade quickly crumbled. "You’re too clingy," he said, pushing her away. "I need space." He left her in tears, feeling like a burden. The next relationship was worse—manipulation, emotional abuse, constant belittling. "You’re worthless," he sneered. "No wonder your family abandoned you." She believed him, internalizing every cruel word.

Y/N hugged her knees tighter to her chest, the tears slipping down her cheeks. The patterns of her past replayed in her mind, a cruel reminder of the pain she had endured.

Her best friend in high school promised they would be friends forever. But as soon as things got tough, she disappeared without a word, leaving Y/N to navigate the tumultuous teenage years alone. "I thought we were friends," Y/N had said, voice breaking. But there was no answer, just an empty silence.

Her college roommate had been kind, at first. They shared secrets and late-night talks until one day, without warning, she moved out, leaving a note saying she couldn’t handle Y/N’s “drama.” Another abandonment, another confirmation that Y/N was too much for anyone to handle.

She wiped her eyes, the heaviness in her chest a familiar ache. Lando was different, she knew that. He was kind, loving, and patient. But the fear that he would eventually leave her, just like everyone else, was always there, lurking in the back of her mind.

The balcony door slid open, and Y/N didn’t turn around. She felt Lando’s presence as he stepped outside, the silence stretching between them.

"I'm sorry my love," Lando finally said, his voice soft and weary. "I didn't mean to storm out like that."

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice trembling. "I just… I don't want to feel like this anymore, Lando. I don't want to keep waiting for you to leave. It's not your fault, it really is not. I'm just- my past. It has been hurting me so much even when I try for it not to."

He moved closer, sitting beside her on the balcony floor. "Y/N, I'm not going to leave you. I didn't realize how much this was affecting you. I thought we were okay but I need you to speak to me, to voice your conerns."

She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I was scared to tell you how I really felt. I didn't want to seem needy or make you feel guilty."

Lando reached out, gently taking her hand in his. "You have every right to tell me how you feel. I need to know if something's wrong so we can fix it together."

She looked at him, her eyes filled with vulnerability. "But what if you get tired of always having to reassure me? What if you decide it's too much?"

He squeezed her hand, his gaze steady and sincere. "I won't. I'm here because I love you, Y/N. I want to be with you, and that means working through the tough times, too. I know I haven't been perfect, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this work."

Y/N's heart ached with both fear and hope. "I want to believe you, Lando. I really do."

"Then let me prove it to you," he said softly. "We'll figure this out together. I promise."

She nodded, a small smile breaking through her tears. "Okay. I trust you." He could see the pain in her eyes, the scars left by a lifetime of abandonment and disappointment. He knew this was the moment to make her understand how much she meant to him.

"Y/N, look at me," he said softly, lifting her chin so their eyes met. "You are perfect for me in every way. I don’t just love you because you’re beautiful or because we have fun together. I love you because of who you are, inside and out."

She tried to look away, but he gently held her face, making sure she was listening. "You are the strongest person I know. Everything you've been through, everything you've survived—it hasn't broken you. It's made you who you are, and that person is incredible."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn't say anything. Lando continued, his voice full of conviction. "You have this amazing heart, Y/N. You care so deeply about the people in your life, even when they don't deserve it. You give so much of yourself, and that’s something truly special."

He brushed a tear from her cheek. "You make me want to be a better person. Every day with you is a gift, and I don’t take that lightly. I see how you look after everyone, how you’re always there for others, even when you’re hurting. You inspire me."

Lando's voice grew more intense as he spoke. "You’re not a burden. You’re not too much. You are exactly what I need in my life. You’re my anchor, the one who keeps me grounded. Without you, none of this—racing, fame, everything—would matter. You’re my reason, Y/N."

She sniffled, her tears falling freely now, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "I know you’re scared, and I get it. But I’m here to stay. I’m not going anywhere. I promise you that. We’re in this together, and I will never, ever leave you."

He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes again. "Please believe me when I say that you are my everything. I love you more than words can say, and I will spend every day proving it to you. You are my future, Y/N, and I’m not going to let anything take that away from us."

She clung to him, her sobs quieting as his words sank in. "I love you too, Lando," she whispered, her voice shaky but filled with hope.

"And I love you," he replied, kissing her forehead gently. "Always."

For the first time in a long while, she felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to make it work. And for now, that hope was enough.

[coolemmasulivan2]

Rewinding Us | 1

Pairing: Mason Mount x Reader

Summary: You and Mason built a love story over five years, but after an accident, your memories are wiped away, including any feelings for your constant bickering "rival". Can you remember your love story with Mason, or will you have to start all over?

Word Count: 3613

You can read part 2 here, part 3 here and part 4 here

Isn't it strange How people can change From strangers to friends Friends into lovers And strangers again?

Mason's laughter echoed across the bar area, as he leaned into a conversation with a blonde woman. Her vibrant red dress seemed to draw all the light from the sun, and the way she tilted her head towards him spoke volumes. A tingling of unfamiliar anger flared in your chest.

Eight years ago, mutual friends introduced you to Mason. Everyone predicted sparks would fly, but instead, you and Mason clashed constantly. Conversation with him often devolved into playful jabs that sometimes turned into full-blown arguments.

Then, the accident happened and something changed. Well… everything seemed to have changed.

You were on your way home from a draining workday when a drunk driver slammed into your car at a red light. The impact was brutal, leaving you in a coma for days. When you finally opened your eyes, your memories were fractured, stuck five years in the past.

The amnesia was a cruel joke. Five years vanished, leaving a hole in your life. Everywhere you turned, there was evidence of a life you couldn't recall: a new job you didn't choose, friends you couldn't place, a house that felt foreign. Most unsettling were the unfamiliar feelings stirring within you. Those weird and unfamiliar feelings.

"Who's that?" Ben asked, taking a swig of his almost empty beer.

"I don't know." You mumbled, your gaze glued to the pair.

"She's definitely something else!" Ben smirked.

"She's nothing special!" You snapped, the words leaving your mouth a little too quickly. Heat crept up your cheeks, and you looked away hoping Ben hadn't noticed.

"Jealous much?" He teased.

You scoffed. "Jealous? Please. She's most likely after his fame." Your voice lacked conviction even to your own ears.

Across the room, Mason felt a familiar warmth bloom in his chest despite the woman's flirtatious banter. He only had eyes for you, even if you didn't remember the five years you'd spent tangled up in his life as his girlfriend. Just then, the bartender placed their drinks down, and Mason took his leave with a polite excuse.

"Who was that?" Ben nudged him as he sat back down.

Mason took a long pull from his beer, the bitterness mirroring the emotions churning in his gut. "Just a fan."

"Fan, huh? Looked more like a starving woman from the way she was eyeing you up." Ben's gaze flicked to you, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead. "Speaking of, Y/n wasn't exactly thrilled with the view."

"What?"

On the dance floor, you laughed with Charlotte, your head thrown back in carefree joy as you moved along the music. The sight sent a jolt through him. Seeing you happy made him happy.

"Maybe that's a good thing, right?" Mason said. "Means she still cares about me, even without the memories."

"There's only one way to find out." Chimed in Benny, sliding onto the club sofa beside them. "Kiss her!"

The air crackled with tension. A knot formed in Mason's stomach. Was he right? Was there even a chance you'd feel the same if he kissed you? Or would you slap him just like the first time five years ago?

"What if it doesn't work?" Mason asked.

"At least then you know."

Reece whistled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. It was a stupid prank. Mason knew it was ridiculous. The locker room pranks were a highlight of the day, a chance to goof around with the team. But this time, a knot of dread formed in his stomach.

"Seriously?" Mason's voice was tired.

"Don't be a pussy, Mason!" Reece nudged him. "It's just a kiss. A peck, really. It doesn't need to be a French kiss." The other guys burst into laughter.

Mason gave Reece a dreadful look. "Why her?" His voice was a low growl. "I'll do it with anyone else."

Christian slung an arm around Mason's shoulder. "Come on, man. Where's your sense of adventure? It wouldn't be any fun with someone else." Mason rolled his eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

"She'll be at the birthday party tonight! It's your opportunity." Reece pushed, a sly grin spreading across his face. "You know the consequence if you back out."

"What was that about?" Charlotte asked softly, noticing your expression.

"Nothing!" You sighed, forcing a smile.

"It looked like something." She pressed gently. "You looked like you were ready to march over there and claim him as your territory." Charlotte exclaimed, her voice laced with a hint of amusement.

You let out a frustrated sigh. "Ugh, don't be ridiculous." You scoffed, but it lacked conviction. The truth was, the sight of Mason laughing with another woman had sparked a flicker of something unexpected in your chest.

"Maybe you're just reacting strangely because of, well…" Charlotte trailed off, gesturing vaguely towards your head.

You clenched your jaw, a flicker of frustration crossing your features. The accident had robbed you of so much, leaving you adrift in a sea of unknowns. Lately, though, especially around Mason, there were these… moments. Flashes of emotions you couldn't quite place.

"Look, I don't know what's going on in my head, but it doesn't mean I like him. We… didn't exactly get along, remember?" You trailed off, unsure how to describe your past with Mason.

Charlotte was bursting to tell you the truth, the truth about your feelings for Mason and his for you. Your relationship was no secret. Everyone knew. Everyone except you.

"I'm not saying there's something there." She hedged. "But maybe there's a spark you haven't noticed."

You scoffed, shaking your head for emphasis and taking a large sip of your drink. "No way! I never have and never will. He's just another stuck-up jock with a silver spoon up his—"

Charlotte cut you off with a pointed look. "Isn't that most of your guy friends?"

You stuttered, the truth hitting you like a cold shower. Charlotte was right. Football players were your usual crowd, and that's how you met Mason in the first place. But there was just something about him, something that had rubbed you the wrong way since the beginning.

"He's different."

Charlotte smirked. "Yes, he is." She muttered.

"Last night, I thought about looking him up on Google." You blurted out, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. Charlotte's eyes widened in pure panic.

"You what?" She gasped.

"I don't even know why." You admitted, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. "I just started thinking about him, and the next thing I knew, I was typing his name into Google. Thankfully, I realised what I was doing and deleted it before I hit enter."

The internet was flooded with numerous photos of you and him, making it evident that your relationship with him had evolved into something more over the years.

"Don't google him! Just talk to him." Charlotte said. "Just because you can't recall the last five years doesn't mean your relationship with him has to remain the same as you remember, with constant arguments."

You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear and glanced back. Mason was already looking at you, but he quickly looked away when you caught him.

The clean, white walls blurred as a dull ache throbbed behind your eyes. A rhythmic beeping filled the air, and panic clawed at your throat, a soundless scream trapped in your chest.

Two blurry familiar figures materialized beside the bed.

"Easy there!" A deep voice murmured. His face was etched with worry, his familiar blue eyes welling up.

"Mason?" You rasped, your voice rusty and unfamiliar. A hand grasped yours, warm and familiar. "Charlotte?"

"Yeah." He choked out, forcing a smile. "It's us. You're awake."

You tried to piece together the fragments of your shattered mind. "What happened? Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital." Charlotte said, her face etched with worry. "You've been in a coma for a while." The sentence sent a jolt of fear through you, questions tumbling through your mind, unanswered and terrifying. "Do you remember anything?"

You shook your head, the movement sending a fresh wave of pain through your body. "No."

A tear escaped Charlotte's eye and traced a path down her cheek. "You're okay… You're okay, that's what matters."

You shifted your gaze back to Mason, a question forming on your lips. "What are you doing here?" Your group of friends was the same, but the two of you were not exactly best friends.

The question hung heavy in the air. Mason's face drained of colour, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Wh-- What do you mean?"

"Well, we're not exactly best friends, are we? I never expected you to give up your perfect life to sit in a hospital chair waiting for me to wake up."

At that moment, you saw a flicker of something raw and painful in his eyes. You knew, with a strange certainty, that your question had shattered something inside him.

Charlotte took your hand. "Hey, look at me. What is the last thing you remember?"

You looked at her, confused as to why she was asking you that. But you closed your eyes and made an effort to think about it. "I don't know." You frustrated said. "I remember our trip to Australia."

Charlotte placed a hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp. She looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath to compose herself. Mason's reaction mirrored hers. He stood up abruptly and ran a hand through his hair. Only then did you realize he looked older from the last time you saw him.

"Y/n?" You looked at your friend, as she cleared her throat, her voice thick with emotion. "That was five years ago."

Back at the villa, a drunken haze hung heavy in the air. Everyone except Mason, who squirmed nervously as his gaze constantly darted back to you. It wasn't that you were a disaster drunk, but you were unpredictable, and he couldn't bear the thought of not being there if you needed help.

The irony tasted bitter on his tongue. The Mason you "knew" wouldn't have cared if you tripped and fell, let alone offered a hand.

The doctor's words echoed in his head: amnesia, five years vanished. Your story, a typical journey from enemies to lovers, shattered in a blink of an eye. Anger bubbled up inside him and not just for you, but for him too.

"I'm going to bed!" Ben growled, his voice higher than usual.

"I'm hungry. I want cheese!" Charlotte said, grabbing your arm and dragging you towards the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Mason attempted to assist Benny onto the couch. The groan that escaped Benny's lips sounded suspiciously like a death rattle, but when he managed a weak thumbs-up, Mason sighed.

He kicked off his sneakers and slid open the outdoor French doors, letting in a cool breeze. He could hear the sounds of female laughter and the clinking of glasses from the kitchen and he could picture the mess you were creating.

Suddenly, a muffled voice groaned: "Kiss her!"

Mason jolted upright, his eyes landing on Benny, who remained dead on the couch with his eyes shut.

"Dude, I thought you were sleeping!"

"I am!" He said, chuckling.

"Yeah, right." Mason grumbled, hitting Benny's head with a pillow. Benny, ever the drama king, yelped and sat up, clutching his head and muttering a curse or two.

You and Charlotte emerged from the kitchen, each sporting a triumphant grin and a sandwich. "Hungry, boys?" Charlotte asked, raising an eyebrow.

Benny eyed the sandwich with the intensity of a starving man, but after a groan that seemed to emanate from the depths of his stomach, most likely from the alcohol, he declined. Mason, too, shook his head, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features as he watched you laughing with Charlotte while sitting by the pool and eating a sandwich at three in the morning.

With a mumbled goodbye, Mason hoisted a groaning Benny to his feet and guided him up the stairs. Helping his friends into bed, Mason felt the day's weight finally lift from his body. But as he caught another glimpse of you through his bedroom window, a different tension settled in his chest. How was he supposed to act around you now? The girl he loved but doesn't even remember him like that?

"You always need to have the final word, don't you?" Mason growled, his voice laced with annoyance. You shot him a glare.

"Because you're so much better, Mr. Perfect?" You retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mason threw his hands up in exasperation. "Will you just shut up?" He groaned, the frustration evident on his face.

You crossed your arms over your chest, ready to fire back another insult, but before you could utter a word, Declan beat you to it.

"Would you two stop fighting for two seconds?" He pleaded, his voice strained. You glanced at him, his face flushed with annoyance.

"He started it!" You muttered, pointing an accusing finger at Mason.

Mason scoffed, his jaw clenched. "Me? You're the one who couldn't just let it go."

Lauren, seated beside Declan, reached over and squeezed his shoulder, her touch calming the tension radiating from him. She threw a helpless look between you and Mason, a silent plea for you both to act like mature adults. But as usual, you couldn't.

Exhaustion finally settled over Charlotte, her giggles fading into soft snores as she drifted off on the lounge chair. You watched her for a moment, jealous of her sleep escape. With a sigh, you pushed yourself up from the chair and slowly walked around the pool's edge.

Each step felt heavy. It was always when you were alone with your thoughts that the blank space where memories should be frustrated you the most. Friends, family, lovers – who knew who you'd lost in that time? The doctors were optimistic, suggesting the amnesia might be temporary, but the not knowing worried you.

As you stepped forward, you didn't see where you were placing your bare foot and a surprised yelp escaped your lips. You closed your eyes ready to embrace the cold water but before you knew it, a strong hand grabbed your arm, pulling you back with surprising ease. You landed against Mason's chest, his familiar scent washing over you.

His scent is so familiar, you thought to yourself.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. You looked up into his eyes, seeing a flicker of worry and something else that made your breath hitch. You both leaned in, the unspoken feelings and longing hanging heavy in the air.

Then, you remembered who he was. "Take your hands off, Mount!" You mumbled, pushing away from him a little too forcefully.

Mason's playful grin faded. "Are you sure you want that?" He challenged, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Yes!" You said, trying to sound tougher than you felt.

He held his gaze for a second longer, then quickly released his grip. You took a triumphant step back and before you could react, you were falling backwards.

Panic. A scream ripped from your throat as you plummeted towards the cold water. A strong arm wrapped around your waist just in time. Mason pulled you back against him with a grunt, his grip firm and protective.

"That's what I thought." He smirked, a hint of concern lingering in his voice.

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. The hand that held your waist felt imprinted onto your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your eyes drifted down, drawn to his lips, something you don't remember noticing before. A strange urge buzzed through you. Maybe it was the disorientation, but before you knew it, you were both leaning in.

"What's happening?" Charlotte called out, rubbing her blurry eyes, her voice laced with concern. Both you and Mason jolted apart, a blush creeping up your neck. The tension slowly drained away, replaced by a cold jolt of reality.

"Nothing!" You stuttered, forcing a smile at Charlotte. "Just a little clumsy." Feeling awkward and desperate to break the tension, you blurted out, "Uh, I think I'm going to bed… Goodnight!" Without another word, you turned and fled inside the house.

Charlotte saw you entering the house, and then her gaze flicked to Mason, who was now staring intently at the pool. A slow realization dawned on her face.

"Oh no!" She drawled, her voice filled with despair. "Did I interrupt something?"

The music pulsed through the air, a relentless bass beat vibrating in Mason's chest. Sarah's birthday celebration was a joyful gathering, filled with laughter and people swaying to the music. His eyes, however, were trained on you, across the room, lost in conversation with a group of girls, your laugh ringing in the air.

Every muscle in Mason's body screamed in agony. This was a terrible idea, a prank gone way too far, but the memory of Reece's ultimatum and the relentless teasing he'd face if he backed out helped him gain courage. He took a deep breath and a long sip of his beer.

He navigated the crowded room, dodging spilled drinks. As he drew closer, he could see the happiness on your face, the way your eyes sparkled with joy. He was close enough now to hear part of your conversation, making you throw your head back and laugh. The sound of your laughter did something strange to him. Something different and new.

Taking a final breath, he stopped in front of you and your smile faded as his shadow loomed over you.

"What do you want, Mason?" You asked, annoyance lacing your voice.

He shrugged, trying to appear casual. "Just, wanted to say hi."

You raised an eyebrow. "Right… Because that's something you normally do."

He ran his hand over his hair, avoiding your gaze. "Look, can we just talk for a second?"

You hesitated, your friends giving you curious looks. Finally, you sighed. "Fine. But make it quick." You stepped away from the group and into a quieter corner of the room. "What?" You hissed.

"Just…" He mumbled, looking like he was about to swallow his tongue. "This!"

Before you could react, he closed the gap between you, pressing his lips against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks. It wasn't gentle, more like a surprise attack. Your eyes flew open, and your first instinct was to shove him away, but for some reason, you didn't. Maybe it was the shock, but you found yourself frozen.

Then, just as quickly as it started, it ended. You jerked your head back, a look of pure fury on your face.

"What the fuck was that?" You yelled, slapping him hard across the face, the sound loud enough to cause the closest heads to turn your way.

Mason stumbled back, hand flying to his cheek, a perplexed look on his face. "Wow! Okay, bad idea!"

You glared at him, your chest heaving. "The worst idea ever, Mount. The absolute worst." Spinning on your heel, you stormed back to your friends, leaving a stunned Mason, replaying the heat of the kiss and the unexpected spark running through his body.

You bolted upright in bed, the sheets tangled around you. The dream was vivid and confusing. The taste of Mason's lips, the anger, the heat – it all felt real.

Before you could even think about it, you were out of bed, fueled by a restless energy and a burning need for answers. You stormed down the hallway, the silence broken only by your pounding heart and fast footsteps. Mason's bedroom door was shut, but that didn't stop you as you opened it.

Mason was sprawled across his bed, his bare chest at display. The dim glow of moonlight fell across his face, highlighting the peaceful lines of his sleep.

"Mason!" You called, hitting his leg under the sheet to wake him up. "Mount, wake up!" He jolted upright, his eyes wide with surprise.

"What the hell, Y/N?" He said, his voice thick with sleep.

"Why did you kissed me?" You demanded, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and confusion. He blinked, trying to focus on what you were saying. "Did you thought it was a good idea? Did you had fun?"

"Wha-- what are you talking about? Slow down." He mumbled, his brain struggling to catch up.

"Don't play dumb!" You hissed. "Sarah's birthday party, remember? Years ago! You… kissed me!" You gestured wildly with your hands. "Was it a joke? Was I just some random target?"

Mason finally seemed to grasp the situation. He rubbed his eyes wearily. "Y/N, slow down. Please!" He sat down, leaning against the headboard. You were finally remembering something.

"Slow down?" You shouted, incredulous. Your frustration boiled over, and you hit him lightly on the chest. "I woke you up because you're confusing! One minute you're arguing with me, the next you're… invading my personal space!"

"Hey!" He protested, catching your wrists and pulling you down on the bed next to him. "Whoa, calm down. You're gonna wake up the whole house." He held your gaze, his voice softer now.

You glared at him, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Let go of me, Mount!" You snapped. The memory of the kiss, the way your body had reacted despite your initial resistance, felt like a betrayal. "I hate you!" You mumbled.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your face. "Do you really, Y/N?" His voice was a low murmur, sending shivers down your spine. You could feel the heat radiating from him.

The anger you felt was fading fast, replaced by a confusing mix of emotions. Did you actually hated him?

[the-possum-writes]

You may have gotten a request like this already so please ignore it if you have!

I really enjoy your works so far and I'd like to request the nsfw alphabet with Marshall Lee if that's something you'd like to do! Gender neutral or afab anatomy if that's okay but I really don't mind if you keep it fully gender neutral!

I hope this request finds you well and happy! Thank you for your time to read this ask and for sharing your work, it's very enjoyable to read! (It also helps that I adore possums hehe)

[Marshall Lee NS/FW Alphabet]

Tags: NS/FW, mentions of voyeurism, hcs, dirty alphabet

A/n: Thanks for requesting! Ya'll eating good tonight-! This is for the AT version of Marshall, the F&C Marshall would probs have some differences without the whole vampire thing.

A = Aftercare

Marshall doesn't need sleep so he'll help you clean up asap and lay in bed with you so his low body temperature can help ya cool off, he would also sing you to sleep in compensation if he went too rough on you.

B = Body part

Regarding his partner's, he's fond of your chest. He doesn't breathe so he likes seeing it rise and fall whenever you're panting, and enjoys listening  to your heartbeat during cuddle sessions.

As for his body, he likes every aspect of it but if he had to choose it would probably be his eyes. They're the first thing someone sees when he's lurking in the dark.

C= Cum

Slick like glue, and lacks any kind of odor or taste (I guess it's because he's a supernatural creature). He doesn't produce an exaggerated amount of cum in a single shot but he's determined enough to fill you up until it's sliding down your thigh, no matter how many rounds it takes.

D= Dirty Secret

Marshall snuck into your house once cause he wanted to gonna prank you by hiding your toothbrush and other stuff but he accidentally floated in on you in a private time and didn't leave until you finished. Nowadays he knocks before visiting you, but there are times where he touched himself to that memory.

E= Experience

Marshall has been around for thousand years, he knows his likes and dislikes regarding stuff done to him, and what he likes in a partner. He's confident in his performance as well, he has skill and learns fast, he knows that he'll find and exploit your weak points that'll have you sobbing in a good way.

F= Favourite Position

The dude can fly, he likes having you cowgirl (or reverse cowgirl) style while on mid air even though you've told him how dangerous it is.

G= Goofy

Though he gets heavily feral most of the time Marshall is a versatile man who can still crack a laugh even at the most heated times, if he's feeling playful and is on a full teasing rampage he'd use wordplay/puns that depend on the location you two are at.

H= Hair

Marshall is well trimmed but not fully shaved, his pubes are just as dark and wavy as his hair. However, sometimes he'd occasionally try to do funny patterns and would walk out of the bathroom bare ass naked and ask. "Does this look like a bat to you?"

I= Intimacy

Okay so we all know Marshall portrays himself as the residential bad boy and everyone buys it, but in reality he keeps his relationships at an arms length since he's lost people close to him. The guy craves intimacy and it's evident in the small affectionate gestures during sex like how he intertwineds his fingers in your hands, and after sex, he's got his legs tangled in yours, plays with your hair and rests his head on your beating chest.

J= Jack Off

In the early years of vampire hunting he couldn't allow himself a single moment of vulnerability even if his hormones were getting the best of him, but in current times in Aaa where he isn't always on guard he wanks it on occasion here and there when he's lacking company. Once he starts dating you he can't help but stoke himself in front of you when you touch yourself for him.

K= Kink

Pray/Predator play:

He loves playing the part so much. On a full moon he will give you a 10 minute headstart to let you run loose through the woods in that white transparent nightgown he likes so much (fits your role as the helpless victim) as he shape shifts into a wolf or a giant bat and hunts you down by the scent of your arousal alone.

Size difference:

Okay hear me out on this- The guy can shape shift, it would be impossible that he wouldn't develop a knack out of it (especially with the prey/predator thing) when he's near you. He gets a thrill out of it when he's in his bat form, slowly diving you down on his shaft until your thighs come in contact with his fur.

Blood kink:

At first he wasn't interested since he had enough fighting those bloodsuckers (and because it's an obvious thing for him to have). So everyday he fought the blood kink allegations but after years of denying it, its become a new curiosity. He doesn't need to drink the stuff to survive but there's something euphoric about yours that tastes better than any shade of crimson, he'd avoid your neck the first few times but would obtain it from you inner thigh, it's like biting into a lovely jelly donut.

Voyeurism:

It's rude to spy on others but Marshall is well known to watch over others regardless if they're aware of it or not, you'd learn it the hard way when he caught sight of you touching yourself in your private time. In recent times you purposely masturbate in front of him as he sits back in a comfy seat but only after kicking his ass for being a creep.

Exhibitionism: He doesn't mind taking things in a public space like a bathroom stall or just outside a party, he already has his initials marked all over Aaa so a quickie is just another way to mark his place as his.

Praise kink: can't get enough when hearing you say how much you love him, how good he feels inside you or the sensation of his mouth all over you.

L= Location

Anywhere, anytime. The only place he refuses to go is the Nightosphere cause his mom has eyes and ear everywhere and those pesky demons would rattle him out and before he know it his mom is asking for grandchildren.

M= Motivation

It takes so little to rile him up but the fastest way is when you're wearing on of his band shirts.

N= NO

Alright hot take. Although he jokes around with it sometimes; Marshall refuses to actually bite your neck with his fangs. Sure he'll nibble on your neck and bite your shoulder but his fangs never really pierce the skin of your jugular, it brings bad memories of his own forceful transformation and how it made him feel.

O= Oral

Appreciates anyone who's brave enough to let his teeth near their privates.

P= Pace

He goes rough and fast, he knows he gets too carried away but he forgets it right away when he sees you enjoy it as much as he does.

Q= Quickie

Doesn't mind them.

R= Risk

Definitely a risk taker. There's many ways to turn him on and he'd love to share them with you, his safe word is probably something like batshit or fries.

S= Stamia

Impecable. Unless you're a supernatural creature you can't match up with his subhuman self.

T= Toy

Marshall likes them both on himself and on his partner, he likes the dildo varities in particular (when he needs to prepare you for his bat form) and how crazy some designs can get.

U= Unfair

Ultimate tease, if you start taunting Marshall he's gonna return it in an instant. Doesn't care if you're out in public he'll get handsy with you as punishment, and dear glob have mercy on you in the bedroom cause he'd edge that bratty attitude out of you.

V= Volume

He isn't as vocal compared to you when he takes the lead, he would mostly let out an occasional hiss or groan intertwined with his dirty talk or teasing. Buuut, if he's the one on the receiving end he'll cry, whine and moan like a bish.

W= Wild Card

If it wasn't because of his vampire regeneration abilities he'd get dick piercings.

X= x-ray

A nice 9 inches long with a slight curve upwards, he's long but a bit on the slender side like most of his body, it's color is just as pale too but halfway it leads to a small dark gray tip.

Y= Yearning

High libido, watch out. Although he doesn't need to eat or sleep he can still feel lust and hunger which become stronger the longer his needs go unfulfilled.

Z= Zzz

He doesn't really sleep much nor does he get exhausted easily, if he's with a mortal partner he'd pretend to sleep just to keep you company or sing/ play a lullaby on his guitar for you.

[shadowqueenjude]

Ok this idea is so funny to me so I just had to write it lmaooo

Eris strolled the rich forest air behind his father's house. He despised everything about this place. It reeked of blood. Blood from Beron's torture of each of his sons, blood from the executions that had occurred here, including Eris's brother's lover. Every time he was forced to be here, he desired to leave. Unfortunately, he had to be prepared for a meeting in twenty minutes.

Just then, he noticed a shadow moving on the ground not twenty paces from him; the shadows were unaccompanied by any visible being and were too large to be a little critter. Eris chuckled to himself. He had been wondering when the Night Court thugs would be coming to melt his brain for what he'd seen the cursebreaker do. Perhaps they'd gone to all his brothers first; arrogant fools that most of them were, they had probably not even expected the attack. Or perhaps even they had seen him coming; it is not as if he is subtle.

Did he truly believe no one could see him? Despite his magic rendering him perfect for such a position, he was one of the most pathetic spies he had ever seen. Nearly everyone knew he was a shadowsinger, so nearly everyone knew to look for him.

Eris decided to have some fun with the poor bastard. He wandered across his gardens, and sure enough, the shadows followed him. Come on, little bat. At least try to be subtle. Such a concept was foreign to Illyrians, alas. Well, bad for them. Good for Eris.

He rounded the corner before he winnowed a few feet forward, ducking in the bushes and biding his time for the shadow to approach. He noticed the shadows pivot this way and that, as though they were looking for something. Swallowing his laugh, Eris winnowed behind the shadows, wrapping an arm securely around where he guessed his waist was. There was a grunt and a curse as the shadows fought, but Eris only squeezed him tighter, letting the heat that lay beneath his veins rise to the surface, burning him ever so slightly. The male yelped, and his true form appeared. Eris whipped out his dagger and pressed it to his throat.

"Hello, Shadowsinger," Eris purred.

The prince of Autumn held Azriel against his surprisingly well-built chest, blade pressing into his neck, heat curling off his body. Warm- these gods-damned Autumn Court males were so fucking warm. Lucien had been the same way when Azriel had carried him from Winter to Night. That ember smell stuck to him like natural fucking cologne too. And their dressing style-effortless.

Azriel had been invisible, hidden by his shadows. He had no idea how Eris had caught him, but his breaths were shallow as Eris's lips came close to his ear. "Now, what could you possibly be doing here, shadowsinger? Come to see if the rumors about Autumn Court males are true, hm?"

Not expecting the innuendo, Azriel couldn't control the blush that spread across his face. Eris laughed against his neck. "So easily flustered, little bat. Worry not, I know exactly why you're here. But you see, I'm rather attached to my memories, so I think I'll be keeping them."

Azriel couldn't even speak with the knife at his throat. "No words, shadowsinger?" Eris's tone was somehow mocking and seductive at the same time. He dug his knife in a little bit deeper, drawing blood. Then he lightly ran a finger through the line of blood he'd made. Goosebumps traveled down Azriel's body.

Then Eris pulled away the knife. "Speak."

Azriel snarled and tried to break away again, and Eris tsked, returning the blade to his throat. "Tut tut, little bat. This only works if you cooperate with me. Now I need you to swear that you will not come and try to wipe my memory again, nor will you attempt to murder me, else maim me in any capacity. You will lie to your High Lord and anyone else you associate with that you successfully wiped my memory. Do you understand me?" He pulled the knife away just so. "Yes," Azriel muttered reluctantly. "Swear it," Eris murmured. Azriel's mouth didn't move.

"Swear it," Eris repeated, his voice radiating with authority. Azriel found his mouth opening subconsciously, and before he knew it, he had replied, "Yes. I swear it." Azriel and Eris both watched as new whorls of deepest blue grew on his cheek. A matching pale gold one formed on Eris's cheek, just visible upon his pale skin.

Abruptly, Eris shoved Azriel to the ground before him, and just as Azriel got to his knees, Eris pointed a sword at him. Azriel longed to punch the smirk off of his arrogant face. "No violence for you today, Illyrian brute," Eris crooned. "I know that must be so upsetting to you."

"Bastard," Azriel snapped. "Wife-abusing bastard."

Eris snorted. "Are you talking about Mor, little bat? Surely you have brain enough to understand why I left Mor outside of Autumn rather than risk saving her?"

"Because you're a coward," Azriel growled. Eris only let out a musical laugh. "Says you, shadowsinger, who lurks in the dark, hiding behind your own dark reflection. I have not come here to explain myself to Rhysand's dogs; no, I'm keeping you around for one purpose: to send a message." Azriel glared at him. "No."

Eris bent towards Azriel, and Azriel could not breathe as his warm fingers traced the new tattoo upon his cheek. "You don't have a choice, little bat. My territory, my rules. And you're bound to me by a bargain forever. Besides, I think your lord will be interested in what I have to offer."

This close to Beron's eldest son, he could see the resemblance to Lucien: the flaming red hair, naturally, but also the shape of their eyes, their lips. The dimples when they smirk. Their eyebrows. While Lucien was a handsome man with some ruggedness to him, Eris was...well he was unbelievably pretty. There was no other way to describe it. And he hated that he found Eris so attractive.

"What do you want?" Azriel hissed, letting loathing simmer in his eyes. Azriel could feel the heat of Eris's mouth against his lips as he replied, "The same thing I've wanted for the past four centuries, shadowsinger. I want my crown."

[theycalledmebaby]

LOVERS AND FRIENDS

| harringrovson x fem!reader |

-ALWAYS BE MY BABY

summary: Just a little flashback about meeting each of our boys. Super short lol 672 wc

warnings: idk, bad writing? none yet. This is just the beginning but still 18+

a/n: Hi! this fic is my baby and something that's been brewing in my drafts forever. I am not a writer by any means and this is simply self-indulgent/therapeutic for me. You can feel free to come along if you want!

series masterlist | series mixtape(coming soon)

Somewhere in 1995

Always Be My Baby by Mariah Carey quietly playing in the background

"But do I have to go, Mom? Wha... what if—" "Yes, baby, you have to go to school. We already talked about this," your mom says as she pulls into the parking lot. "Besides, Stevie will be there! You get to see him at recess, and I will be here to pick you both up after school."

You don’t remember the day you met Steve Harrington. Maybe it was childhood trauma blocking out memories before the age of 4. You’re unsure, but you know he’s always been around.

Your mom had you at a young age and struggled to make ends meet when she started working for Robert Harrington. Robert Harrington was a sleaze, but his wife, Jen, was an absolute sweetheart. She befriended your mother immediately and soon found out they had babies around the same age.

To make extra money, your mom started babysitting for the Harringtons. Your mom didn’t mind always having Steve with her. The Harringtons paid her very well, you guys got to stay at their very nice house most weekends, and you had someone to play with. It was a win-win.

No, you don’t remember meeting Steve Harrington. -But you do remember that day. The first day of kindergarten. The first time Steve Harrington kissed you.

He had met you in front of your new classroom. You told him you were scared; he grabbed your hand, gave you a light peck on the lips, and told you everything was going to be okay. You didn’t know it then, but from that day on, you were his.

You were always going to be Steve Harrington's baby.

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

Somewhere in 1999

You may not remember the day you met Steve Harrington, but the day you met Eddie Munson is etched in your memory forever.

It was early February, maybe late January. An early chilly Saturday morning, and you were sitting in the backseat of your mom's car, immersed in Mariah Carey's "Fantasy" playing on your Discman. The car was parked in front of a house you had never been to—the home of your mom's new girlfriend. Apparently, her friend had a son around your age, and the plan was to carpool together to visit your stepdad in prison since her husband(Eddie's dad) was also in the same prison.

As Eddie hopped into the backseat with you, a distinct scent of laundry soap and the faint aroma of the smoke shop your mom frequented enveloped the air. He smiled at you, and you couldn't help but notice his big, beautiful brown eyes. He asked what you were listening to, chuckled at your reply, and declared, "No, that shit is pop garbage. This is real music." With that, he placed his headphones on your head, and you were introduced to Metallica's "From Whom the Bell Tolls."

In that very moment, as this something-year-old boy gazed into your eyes and you listened to Metallica for the first time, something shifted within you. You didn't quite comprehend the depth of it then, being just a kid, but you knew deep down that this boy was special. He made you feel something you had never felt before, a feeling that lingered long after that day.

Yeah, you were never going to forget that day.

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

Somewhere in 2001

The summer sun beat down on the neighborhood streets, casting a hazy, golden glow over everything. You found solace on the porch steps of your new house, shaded from the heat, Eddie’s “The Marshall Mathers LP” CD playing softly in your ears.

Moving had its perks—peaceful surroundings and friendly faces—but you couldn't shake the nostalgia for the old apartment complex and memories of Eddie. Even if he was no longer your friend, you missed the sound of his skateboard rolling by or his obnoxious laugh when he and his friends were up to no good.

Lost in thoughts about Eddie, you barely noticed the sound of a skateboard approaching. The wheels clicked against the pavement, drawing your attention. Glancing up, you saw a boy about your age, his blond hair catching sunlight as he effortlessly maneuvered on the board.

He spotted you and skated over, coming to a smooth stop in front of your driveway. His gaze was cool, almost calculating, as he looked you up and down. Yet, his smile was warm and genuine, lighting up his face and his ocean blue eyes.

"Hey," he said casually, tinged with curiosity.

"Hi," you replied, unsure whether to be wary or friendly.

"Billy," he introduced himself, tilting his head slightly.

You hesitated before responding, "Nice to meet you, Billy." You shared your name and mentioned you had just moved into the neighborhood.

Billy nodded, his expression unreadable. "Us too," he replied cryptically.

"Us?" you echoed, intrigued.

"Yeah, me and my stepsis Heather. Just moved here from Cali," Billy explained, his tone nonchalant yet somehow aloof.

The way he looked at you with those dreamy blue eyes made you feel like you were in one of those cheesy teen rom-com movies Steve always tried to make you watch.

"What are you listening to?" he asked.

"Oh, um, it's my friend's CD, Eminem," you replied nervously.

"Cool," Billy said simply, then skated away, saying "Cya."

"Uh, see ya," you managed to respond.

That was the day you met Billy Hargrove. Little did you know then, what an impact that blond, blue-eyed California boy would have on you for the rest of your life.

[desertpersephone]

Writing Patterns

tagged by no one, I just wanted to do it.

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

blue swallow motel, room 14, 7pm. hope to see you there, secret agent.

M, 3k, marmalade | bathing/washing, conversations

“So what was real?” Steam swirled around the tiny bathroom, and Otis’ toes curled into the fuzzy bath mat thrown down on tile that maybe at one point was white. Now the grout was gray and the tiles were tan and the bathmat was that old kind. The kind grannies have, the itchy kind, and he figured whoever had picked it must have thought it made the bathroom look homey.

He Peels An Orange And I Eat The Fruit On My Knees

E, 7.3k, steddie | valentines exchange, baker steve

There was something special about the early morning. It was quiet, but not quiet in the way that the evening was quiet, not quiet in the way an empty house was quiet. It was its very own kind of quiet. Almost peaceful, hazy and glowing with pre-dawn light. It had some kind of liminal feeling, both day and night or sleep and wakefulness. It was special. Except that waking up early also sucked absolute balls.

syrup sweet and lonesome

E, 17k, steddie | christmas exchange, subspace

The distant sound of cars echoed into the alley, and the frigid air of Indianapolis in the winter started to soak into his bones like cheap brandy. Steve kind of wished he had some cheap brandy to chase it away, to stoke the dying heat in his chest. With brick of questionable cleanness and graffiti against his back, Steve puffed out a lungful of smoke and stared at the phone in his hand again.

I had a feeling that I belonged. I had a feeling I could be someone.

E, 3k, 9-1-1 | eddie diaz character study, fatherhood

The day she tells him feels like the worst day of his life. Something forms in his chest. Tight. Maybe it's the worst day of their lives. She's supposed to go to college, got in at UT in Austin, and the fall semester starts in just a few weeks, and Eddie was going to put some hours in at his dad's company, and then he was going to move to Austin to be with her in a year, and they were going to start their lives — and now Shannon was telling him she was pregnant.

add salt to taste

T, 1.5k, 1/?, steddie | personal chef steve, rockstar eddie

The kitchen was so much quieter than the ones Steve had worked in before. There was no yelling, no work chatter, no fryer, no vents, no water boiling over. The only sizzling came from the one pan he had on the front burner, hot oil welcoming as he lay a nice fillet of catfish skin side down. He could feel eyes on his back, monitoring his process, making sure he actually knew what the fuck he was doing.

we're here tonight, and that's enough

G, 3.5k, steddie | christmas exchange, hard of hearing steve, steddie as dads

Snow fell outside, dimly visible as it reflected the streetlights, the heavy blanket of quiet already starting to enrapture the neighborhood. Eddie always swore he could hear it, when it was landing thick and soft on Steve’s rose bushes under the front window, or on the steps he would shovel for his husband in the morning, or on the plastic slide of the backyard play structure. But right now all he could hear was the quiet Christmas music coming from the living room stereo, echoing gently through the warm house.

Becoming. . .

G, 1.3k, stranger things | spiderman orgin story, spider!steve

Steve Harrington had never liked spiders. Of all the bugs in the world, they were the worst. He didn't really like any bugs — maybe rolly pollies or butterflies, but most of the rest? Awful. And spiders gave him the heebeejeebees.

THESE HANDS ARE GROWING COLD THEY'RE RUNNING OUT OF THINGS TO HOLD

G, 1.8k, stranger things | steve harrington character study, crochet, grief

Steve was intimately familiar with the emergency room at Hawkins Memorial by now. Even more familiar with the long, quiet halls of the nuero wing, with its big, private rooms. The rest of the hospital he knew from growing up there, being relegated to the doctors' lounge or the surgical waiting room when his parents couldn't find a babysitter, or when his mom was supposed to be off work and instead came to loiter around the hospital in hopes of snagging a new case.

rotting like a wreck on the ocean floor

T, 2.7k, 2/7, steddie | merman steve harrington, modern au

The beach after a storm was the best place in the world. There was a strange quiet to the sand and the mystery of what had been blown ashore; logs and ropes, chunks of debris lost at sea, shells and bottles and moon jellies. Eddie had developed quite a fondness for the beach after a storm, to the point that he would get up while his uncle was still sleeping to walk down the short trek to the beach and poke around. Sometimes he would find treasures -- and sometimes he would find trash.

i have never known peace like the damp grass that yields to me

M, 3.3k, the witcher | original character backstory, wounds and amputation

Oberyn hated taking monster contracts. He had always found that there was never enough coin on the other side, and more often than not they were either far too easy — and thusly boring — or too much effort for that little bit of coin. Humans just wanted him to be an exterminator, to come in and clean up their pests, with no understanding of the training that went in to being a witcher.

God I really like to Set the Scene don't I? I like people to Feel where we're meeting our characters before actually being introduced to the plot. Even in my smutty oneshots am taking you on a visual journey. Or I try at least.

[grey-gazania-fic]

Darkness and Light

Fingon's wife and daughter face their grief in the aftermath of the Nírnaeth Arnoediad. Part of my Woman King AU. Rated G.

It had been two months since the ships carrying the survivors of the Nírnaeth Arnoediad had returned to Eglarest. They had sailed into a city that already knew that the battle was lost; word had come from Brithombar before the ships had even sighted the mouth of the River Nenning. But everyone in Eglarest was still on tenterhooks, waiting to see who among their loved ones had returned and who had not. Fear permeated the air, and the news flashed from person to person like crackling lightning.

The king of the Golodhrim is dead, people had said. Half the warriors were slain. Hithlum has fallen. The north of Beleriand is lost.

When the frightened whispers had first reached Ianneth’s ears, she’d felt as though an icy hand had closed its fingers around her heart. She hadn’t wanted to believe them, hadn’t wanted to believe that her strong, valiant husband had been killed, or that her homeland was overrun by the enemy. Her father, her mother, her sister… Were they trapped in Mithrim, surrounded by Morgoth’s creatures? Or -- worse, much worse -- were they dead, too, never to be seen again in Middle-earth?

For three days Ianneth had waited, sick with apprehension and uncertainty, doing all that she could to keep the rumors from reaching her daughter. When the ships had finally arrived in Eglarest’s harbor, she’d left Ereiniel with her tutor and gone to the quay, desperately seeking any familiar faces among the worn, battered men who spilled out onto the docks.

She’d seen two: Henthael, who had been her father-in-law’s chief scribe, and Gurvadhor, one of Fingon’s most trusted captains. Pushing her way through the crowd, she’d rushed to Gurvadhor’s side.

Gurvadhor, she’d said, reaching out to grasp his forearms. Gurvadhor, they’re saying-- They’re saying--

He fell, Gurvadhor had said, his voice cracking. I saw him fall.

She had wept, then, and he had wept with her, and for one brief moment she had been enveloped by pure, uncomplicated grief. But soon she had remembered her daughter, and she’d dried her eyes, steeled herself, and gone to tell Ereiniel that her father was dead.

Two months ago, she’d been forced to shatter her daughter’s world.

Things had been tense between them ever since. Ereiniel seemed to have wrapped herself in a cloak of anger to keep the grief at bay, and all of her mother’s efforts to comfort her had ended in heated arguments. And as for Ianneth herself…

She felt brittle -- brittle and anxious and helpless. She’d had no word of her own parents or her younger sister, and there were days when her fear for them threatened to engulf her. Memories of her husband crowded her mind at night, memories of all the bitterness that had lain between them these past few years, often leaving her weeping silently into her pillow. And when it came to her daughter, she couldn’t seem reach past the walls that Ereiniel had pulled up around herself.

It’s your fault, Ereiniel had shouted during an argument that very morning. It was a stupid plan, but if it weren't for you Ada wouldn't have gone. If you didn't always pick fights when he came, he would have stayed with us. It’s your fault and I hate you!

She’d run out of the house, then, and hadn’t returned until it had grown dark. She hadn’t apologized, either, and Ianneth was reluctant to press the issue. Her husband was dead. She couldn’t bring herself to risk pushing her daughter away, too. So they had eaten in silence and then gone their separate ways to ready themselves for sleep.

When Ianneth woke in the small hours after midnight, she was unsurprised to find her daughter’s bed empty. Ereiniel had begun sneaking out at night not long after they’d learned of Fingon’s death. Ianneth had worried, at first, but Círdan’s guards had seen the girl, and the Círdan himself had told Ianneth where she went.

Not to any of her friends’ houses. Not to the water. Not to any place where she might get herself into trouble. Simply to the roof, where she would lie still and watch the sky in silence.

Looking at the empty bed, Ianneth sighed and rested her head in her hands, feeling small and tired and very, very alone. For a moment she simply sat, unmoving, fighting back the frustrated tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Then she stood, fetched a shawl from the hook on the back of the door, and went to the window. With the shawl tied securely around her shoulders, she heaved herself out and climbed up to the roof.

continue reading on AO3

[ciarashoggoth]

The Brick

Have you ever heard of the term, 'brick thrower?' The most common usage of the term is when an individual commits a petty crime in order to return to jail. Another usage of the word, was someone who was willing to do the dirty work, especially in relation to weddings. The one who carries red wine in a flask to 'spill' on anyone who wears white that isn't the bride, the one who stops people at the door who are obviously looking to cause a scene, the one who discreetly deals with confrontation so the newly wedded couple doesn't fret on their wedding day.

I was my family's brick thrower. Chaos fit me like a glove, and I was willing to slip into this role because it was the only role I had available to me. I didn't know what to expect when we traveled to my hometown. It has been so long since I had returned home and I had nothing to show for it. The longer you go north, the more the headlights slowly blink out of existence. The more color is leached out of the air, and your surroundings become darker, and soon I know I'm home. It's quiet here. Much quieter than Niceville, and instead of it feeling comfortable like I never left, I am acutely aware of the fact I fled south in hopes of a different life. I feel like a stranger trespassing into someone's house. I feel awkward, and it certainly shows. If I close my eyes and embrace the cold waves of realization-

 that I may always be an outsider to my own family, maybe I can tolerate it.  There wasn't any way of pretending I'm the same. I've… changed considerably since I moved. My hair is full of grays, my body is covered in bruises, my mannerisms are different, and my very soul is owned by Mallmart. 

There was no foreboding weather, no ominous black ink, no eerie visions that go against the fabric of our reality. This was a normal town…and I feared it. At first it was nice. A relief even, but now that I know that I no longer belong in this place that was once a home to me, leaves me feeling like I'm better off not visiting again. That maybe whatever is happening in Okaloosa County, needs to stay contained. "I think I see the hospital where gram stayed for those final days." My uncle pointed out the window of the rental car. While I knew exactly where she had stayed, my eyes followed along the point of his finger, reaching over to the hospital building in a cluster of odd geometric structures that were other buildings and yet from this far seemed like a blur of shapes. "You remember your grandmother, right Ciara?" Of course I did. I remember her being adventurous and unafraid in all of my time knowing her. Strange little memories about her flitted around my head. We had all lived in the same house for so long. My grandmother was not afraid to venture out on her own from time to time, but she never went far. Sometimes she owned a house just down the block from our house, or left unexpectedly for a few weeks, but she always came back. I remember her taking us to school, her white blonde hair curled into heavy rolls, her rhinestone jacket, and her gold 2003 Lincoln. 

I remember sitting in the back seat with the side of my face squished against the car window, the windows fogged up by the cold rain pouring outside and the sweltering heat inside the car. She stared ahead, as that song played in the background. Have you ever heard the song by Bobby McFerrin? "Don't Worry, Be Happy"? Of course you have, it's a pretty well known song. She played this song constantly, while staring dead eyed into the traffic. It was almost unsettling, how in a trance she would get. "Grammy, the seagulls!" I shouted, as her car swerved towards a flock of wings there on the seaside bridge. I could hear the turbulence of seagulls not getting out of the way in time, and I looked out the back window of the car, feathers  spitting from the back wheels into the air as we rode on. "Cause when you worry your face will frown, and that will bring everybody down, so don't worry. Be happy~" the song played on. 

I remember the moment that she died, on that hospital bed, miles from home. She was thin and hollow looking, like if you touched her she might break. "You aren't Ciara, who are you?" She asked, her gaze was hard as steel. And they were dark, impossibly dark. It was as if her pupils had swallowed her eyes whole. I didn't say anything in response because I didn't know how to answer.  That was the last thing she ever said to me, before she succumbed to heart complications. Of course I remember her.

"Oh whenever I see a red cardinal, I know she's visiting," My aunt adds on, smiling. "If she was here for this wedding, she would not set foot into their church." My uncle was correct here, and my aunt nodded. "I remember back when you thought god would strike you dead the moment you stepped into a church other than our own. Now look at us, risking it all… shelling out all this money we don't have and to top it off it isn't even at our church." This is where it begins. My family had a unique dynamic where we needed a scapegoat. Someone to hate together. The current consensus was that the in laws were it. "And they claimed the outfits we bought weren't appropriate wedding attire! Can you believe it? Who are they-" I began to drown it out in favor of watching the hospital building become unreachable to my line of vision. 

There were a lot of things that separated me from the rest of my family. For one, my interests did not align with any of theirs. I remember desperately trying to find common ground between Axton, Jenna and Kelsey. I remember talking about the same tired topics with Sydney and her trying to show enthusiasm. We started out so close, liking the same things and then… I guess life happened? They all move on and I'm still the same. "Oh don't ever change, Ciara. We like you as you are!" They say, but they are going so far away, and I haven't covered any ground. I'm also aware, my mannerisms leave much to be desired. I never know how to talk at these big events. I never know where to start. So, I stayed quiet at the table. I didn't even try to breach the topic of that phone call a month ago. I kept my head down and I stayed the same even when the world around me was urging me to change. I'm a stranger to them now, and it's nobody's fault but my own. "So, how are the accounting classes going?" A voice flavored in vanilla and honey asks. I look across the table as Macy looks expectantly with that grin. "I uh… it's going well…" 'She's trying to invite you into the conversation, say something you idiot!' a voice in my head screams as I sit there sweating. "I-" but the conversation had moved on, and the gap that had opened for me was now closed. I looked down at the glasses set up in front of me, one with water and one with wine. I had never drank before but suddenly I was tempted. I could try to talk again… I looked up at the guests at the table, occasionally shooting awkward glances like 'why is she here?'. 

 I took a looong sip of the wine in front of me. "You're working at Mallmart?" A lady, who I did not recognize at the table, asked. Everyone looked over at me, and my skin crawled. "Well yeah… I'm in stocking-"

"Oh good for you! I bet you're doing such a good job at that!" Macy exclaimed. The words, written out here sound supportive. They sound kind, even. She had this tone though, one that I heard from teachers back when I was in school, from other family members, from doctors. It was the "good job, buddy!" Voice that people put on when they think they're smarter than you. It was the voice of condescension. 

I seethed in my seat, as the conversation continued on. I wanted to go scorched earth on everyone in this party, but that would only showcase my immaturity. So I did the only thing I could think to do. "I wish you weren't so late. Angus had flown all the way from Miami and he didn't get delayed at all." Macy's mother said, and I replied. "Oh, well Angus was able to put down $150,000 for the flight, and we couldn't afford it and the ferry ride. We really tried our hardest though, but you know-

It all adds up pretty fast." I knew this would start an argument. As soon as I spoke of the expenses I knew I had struck a nerve, as my aunt's face went hot with anger. "And due to the delay we had to repay for our luggage to be checked! We sacrificed so much to be here, all of us-!!" They were fighting now. Full on, raising their voice, laying it all out on the table

Because I was a petty bitch. I looked over at the lovely wedded couple to be. They're eyes gazed at me pleadingly. "Save me, Ciara! Ciara! Ciara, save me!" Their gazes said, and instead of saving them, I got up from my chair and began stacking my plate with the petite delights at the desert buffet. Grinning a shit eating grin in the background as I watched the chaos unfold. 'I think… I think I'll help myself to the dessert wine too!' I think to myself, grabbing a brandy infused cherry wine off the party table, and filling my glass to the top. 

As I sat there, drinking, I noticed someone familiar, sitting amongst family and friends and yet complete alone. An island, unspoken to by anyone. Jenna sat there, pregnant and without a friend in her corner looking as miserable as I felt. And it was heartbreaking. I hadn't even known she was pregnant until now. Nobody said a word, only mentioning about a horrible breakup that took place months ago. We hadn't always gotten along. While I was something of a black sheep, she had been a highschool cheerleader, and went on to medical school. She never acted out, she was always reliable and responsible, and just…this was wrong. It felt so wrong, that she was being shut out. She tried to talk to people too- I watched her. Only to be ignored. So before I could even register myself walking across the room, I was already taking a seat next to her. "Hiii, Jenna…" I grinned widely, ignoring the way she flinched. For a moment, she eyed me wearily. "....What do you want?" She asked. "I was wondering what you've been up to? I haven't heard from you in so long!" Her eyes started watering. "I'm sorry… I didn't know how to start a conversation, I just… I didn't mean to make you cry," She blinked a couple times at my stuttering out an explanation for why I was talking to her. "I can't be with Rob anymore. I'm not getting back with him, if that's what this is about." 

"No, that's not. Has anyone else been? Pressuring you to get back together with him, I mean." There was a long pause, as Jenna stared out amongst the guests, still arguing. "Everyone has." She states in a flat, blunt voice.

"Who wears a polka dot tie to a wedding?! Of course we told you to change!" A voice screeched from at the far end of the room. Jenna stared down into the table, her brow furrowed. "Let's blow this popsicle stand," At that, her head snapped up, eyes wide. "We can't, we're on an island-"

"We'll take the ferry to get some real food. C'mon, what are they going to do anyways?" She thought about it for a moment, and then nodded her head, sitting up. "Okay let's go," she briskly walked for the door. And I followed her out, grabbing the rest of the dessert wine on my way out.

"You want some?" We stood there outside of a burger shack on the mainland. "I can't have wine, Ciara." Jenna reminds me. "Oh right… So this is really happening, huh?" Jenna has always had a stoic face, but now I can see how much this has been weighing on her. The way her brain buzzes with anxiety when thinking of what comes next is evident, and it makes you want to do anything you can to lessen that weight."I don't know if I can keep it. I don't know if I can do this alone, Ciara. I always thought this would go down so much differently-"

"You won't be alone, whatever you choose I'm your ride or die throughout this. Call me up and I will get up north by the skin of my teeth. Seriously, any time." This was punctuated by a swig off the bottle, but I meant it. Jenna did not deserve to do this alone, not after everything she sacrificed, every time she rose to the occasion. If no one was going to have her back, then it was going to be me. "Don't make promises you can't keep. I know you're busy with… Niceville." 

"I'm dead serious though. Yes, Mallmart can be demanding at times, but I'll drop everything, I'm promising you."

"I might have to hold you to it, then."  From that moment, we promised we'd be there for each other, no matter what. 

And you know what? We had fun, we laughed and we joked around and before I knew it… I was throwing up on the ferry ride home, with Jenna holding what was left of the hair that I lopped off in a drunken frenzy. "I think you threw up everything in your stomach, at this point you're just retching…" She mumbled, letting go of my hair and flipping onto her phone. "You can stay in my room tonight, if they see you cut and bleached your hair they're going to kill you and then me for letting it happen." There was a hint of a smile in her voice as she put on her Spotify playlist, swaying slightly to Nelly Furnado. "Good thinking! Ah… also I never really drank before so…" Jenna nodded at this in agreement. 

"You know, I'm a little disappointed… I was hoping riding the ferry would be just like in the Delores Claiborne movie," Jayna held back a laugh at my comment, and said, "Well, they did have to modernize a little since then, yeah?"

"Yeah, everything changes sooner or later…"

"Change doesn't have to be bad though, does it? I'm glad we're close again, and I'm sorry we didn't always- you know, get along?" I thought about what she said for a moment, about how change doesn't have to be bad. I didn't understand that. Every time change came into my life, it ripped the world out from under my feet, and I was always woefully unprepared. "I'm glad we're close again too." I finally settled on, as she rested her head on my shoulder.

I woke up a 3am, the morning of the wedding, with a pounding headache and confused as to what happened to my hair. It was quickly forgotten when I heard the sound of Jenna forcefully vomiting, in the small closet of a bathroom down the hall. Her hair still had glitter in it from our late night adventure. There had to be something that could help her. Like morning sickness pills or some sort of vitamin? But as I rummaged through her suitcase, I found nothing. The only thing I could do was get her a glass of water and hold her hair up if she needed it, making me realize how completely useless I was here. How long has she done exactly this, but with no one there? The thought was chilling. Eventually, after a long moment of hovering over the bowl, she leans back, swallowing roughly. I hand her the glass and she fills her mouth with the water, swirling it around her mouth before spitting it back out into the toilet. "You really should try to drink some, just a little bit." I mumble, taking a seat on the floor next to her. "I just need time… Just give me a second."  

"How long have you had morning sickness?" 

"I've had it almost the entire time. I'm not really sure, maybe a couple weeks in? I keep getting told it'll stop for sure by week 14, week 16, week 19. I don't see any end to this." She rolls her eyes as I help her up. "Do you have anything to help with the nausea?" I asked, my concern was only building. "Yeah, but it's back at home. I didn't think to pack it with me and I honestly thought we weren't as far from home as we actually are." Which yeah, I agree that I had thought the same. "We still have plenty of time before the wedding. Why don't you try to rest some and I'll see if I can make something up for breakfast. You don't have any aversions to-" 

"Unless you're planning on cooking with church incense, I'm fine." I nodded, turning on my heel. It's funny, most of us in the family had a strong dislike for the herbal concoction that was put in that thurible- whatever it was, I remember my mother saying she had to leave church because she couldn't stop retching. 

…

It's funny, time moves in ways that leave these gaps in my brain. I don't remember what happened that morning before the wedding. I try to and it leaves me even more frustrated because I know we were happy together, and that something important happened. But when I think back to that morning, my mind draws a blank after I walk into the kitchen to make breakfast. I do remember, going into the church for the wedding though.

An organ played as we walked in, and we waited to be struck dead for entering a church that was not our own. By some miracle, we still stood in a feverish daze as the scent of the hyacinth and peony flower arrangements dragged us over to the awaiting pews. Everyone wet eyed, everyone taking in the fact that this was actually happening. Change was coming quickly and there was nowhere to hide. Macy walked down the aisle, in that slim straight cut white dress, the train of the dress in lace behind her. She was beaming. There was a glow to her and it became clear to me that she loved Axton, possibly more than the nightmare family that had been dragging their feet this whole wedding. I started to wonder if maybe I had read this whole situation wrong. Maybe they weren't the ones in the wrong here. Maybe it was us. 

No. No, that couldn't be right. I'm being downright reasonable, is what I tell myself. She takes her place beside Axton, and the wedding ceremony begins. "Love is more than just words, it's shown in actions, and this couple has shown that more than anyone! From the moment they stood before us in this sacred church, their hands have never stopped holding each other," The minister continues on in the background as I stare at them. He's right, they haven't stopped holding hands since they were up there. "Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous-"

I could feel his eyes burning into me, and I squirmed. I was imagining it. I just felt self conscious. "Love is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude nor does it seek its own interests, it is not quick tempered-" the lights of the church flickered. When the lights came back on, the holy water that was set on the table at the pulpit was turned black. A dark, dark inky black, like the mysterious ink that came from the skylights of Mallmart. I could hear whispers of people asking if that's supposed to happen, so I know I hadn't imagined it. What's more, a lady came up to switch out the water with clear, clean water. 'The holy water went bad.' my brain supplied lamely. I expected Axton to be nervous as well, and yet…He kept holding his wife's hand, smiling and keeping his eyes locked into hers. They kiss, we clap, shows over. Everything is moving way too fast. How could I ever hope to keep up? 

"Whatever happened to you writing, Ciara?" An aunt of mine asks as we sit at a table. Axton and macy dancing amongst a crowd of people, and the music is loud with Taylor Swift lyrics that speak of love and heartbreak. Jayna scrolls on her phone absentmindedly, a slice of cake half eaten in front of her. "I'm not very good," I mumble sheepishly. "And accounting is practical! It's a reliable job that I can coast through without the threat of being without an occupation to pursue." 

"But you love telling stories, you really should get into some form of entertainment. That little blog of yours-"

"Madame Macabre."

"Riiight," She pinched the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb. This conversation has aged her by years, I can tell. "You need to think bigger! You used to love to sing, and- and-"

"My father always said I have a face for radio and a voice for silent movies so I'm thinking maybe that I'm out of luck in that area of expertise." I laugh awkwardly. She does not laugh with me, staring blankly as I squirm in my seat. "Why haven't you asked out that goth girl?" Well that came out of nowhere. 

"That's against Mallmart policies, for associates in the same department to be involved with one another goes against the core values of our establishment."

 

"So? Don't tell anyone! You almost never like anyone, and I'd hate to see you become some eccentric spinster with a house full of cats." My aunt, always delicate with her opinions, huh?

".... It's better when it's just jokes. I don't actually want to tell her I like her. She couldn't like me back, I'm too….weird." The table suddenly became very interesting to me at that moment, because my aunt's gaze was too hot on my skin. "Sweetie," She says, with emphasis on her words that caught me off guard. "All that repression is going to make you explode." And with that bit of wisdom, she stands, heading over to the bar. My phone buzzes, and there's a single message. "Management is look to fire me, Ciara." I stare at Taylor's text on my phone for a long, hard time. It was time to throw a brick.

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Taming Arrogance - Chapter 15

*Warning Adult Content*

A cacophony of chatter fills the silence, overpowering the smooth jazz filtering from the unseen speakers.

With sunglasses fixed to the front of my face, I approach the bar with eyes forward.

Always eyes forward.

The richness of male voices are everywhere, never broken by the slightest, feminine whisper.

Francisco's is far busier than it was last night but I should have expected that coming into a bar on a Friday night.

I settle into the second to last bar stool and prop my elbows onto the marble countertop.

Multiple bartenders lean towards their eager customers, learning their orders with practiced memory.

My gaze bounces from one to another until I locate my reason for coming here.

Cade lifts a bottle of Grey Goose high into the air and drains a good amount into a martini glass.

He sets it down and reaches for the next bottle, his every movement as fluid and graceful as the very liquid splashing into its new glass container.

He's confident when he makes drinks, he's confident in his work.

It reminds me of Blake.

Blake and his many loyal employees.

Blake and his imperturbable work ethic and unshakable composure as he takes that first step into work day.

I imagine Blake's normally poised, masculine torso leaning across the table to whisper something into Phil's ear.

The movement would be relaxed and effortless, no doubt.

That's how Blake moves, though, his sureness so potent that it borderlines seduction, day in and day out.

Blake and his date with that stupid, fucking Phil.

My teeth begin to ache from my jaw working itself tighter and tighter.

Fucking Phil.

I mean, don't get me wrong.

I don't want Blake for myself.

Really, I don't.

There's just something about Phil that makes my skin crawl.

The dude is a leech, possessive and wasn't he the one that didn't want commitment in the first place?

Right.

So he's a hypocrite, too.

Add that to the list.

"Well, well well. Callum. I didn't think I'd see you again. Especially not in here," the friendly voice pulls me out of my moment clutched within fury's talons.

I glance up at Cade and he smiles.

His hair is slicked back today, a sleeker appearance than the slightly disheveled look he was sporting yesterday.

"I was thirsty," I mutter.

"And he's not the boss of me."

I don't have to go into any greater detail.

Based on the slight altercation that occurred here last night, Cade is all too aware of who I'm referring to.

He chuckles and leans across the bar, just as he did for his last customer only minutes ago.

"Alright then handsome, what can I get for you?"

I scoff and roll my eyes in disgust.

"You're an idiot."

Cade smirks and shrugs.

"Hey, that's how we're trained to do it. Plus, it's proven to be an excellent tactic in earning a few extra tips."

"That's pathetic."

"My bank account would beg to differ but what'll you have? Shot? Beer?"

"I'll take a Jack n' Coke."

Cade nods and gives me one of his practiced, award-winning smiles.

"Coming right up."

My back is rigid as I wait for my drink.

I don't know what's making me more nervous, waiting for a guy to come up and hit on me or wondering if Blake will make another unexpected visit.

I can almost feel him coming up behind me, the heat of his chest bumping up against my back and his heady scent overpowering my senses.

I know, I know.

It makes me sound gay as hell but that's just him.

His presence begs attention and focus without trying.

Add to that his air of genuine confidence, intelligence and charm.

I mean, let's call a spade a spade.

The man is a walking addiction.

Well, to most people.

I'd like to think I'm immune to his appeal.

My groin twitches as I become lost in deeper 'Blake' thoughts and I grimace realizing maybe I'm not as immune to him as I'd like to think I am.

"One Jack n' Coke. On the house."

I laugh humorlessly and start digging into my jean pocket to pull out my wallet.

"Now, now, remember what Sir Asshole said about that."

"As someone very wise said to me only minutes ago, he's not the boss of me."

I slap a ten dollar bill on the table and shake my head.

"He'll have no issue coming in here and buying out this bar and firing you in seconds flat. Just take the money."

Cade's smile falters.

My words seem to surface his memory of Blake's final warning to him.

He flushes and takes the bill off the table, stuffing it into his barista apron.

"So should I expect another movie-like entrance from your boss this evening?"

"Highly doubt it."

I take a sip of my drink, puckering my lips as the richness of the Jack Daniels slides over my taste buds.

"He's out with..." I stop short before calling him 'fag-tard Phil.'

As much as it's a fitting name, I have a feeling using such colorful language in a place like this will do far more unintentional harm than good.

I take another sip of my drink and try again through gritted teeth.

"He's out with his boyfriend."

Cade raises is brow.

"Boyfriend, huh? That's an unexpected twist."

"Mmph."

"Is it serious?"

"How the hell should I know?"

Cade watches me as I sip my drink.

His thoughtful eyes dance over my features, evaluating my state of mind based on my facial expression.

I try to keep a straight face,but I can feel a scowl forming.

I set my drink down onto the marble.

It clatters noisily.

The heavy brown liquid sloshes from side to side, an alcoholic ocean churning with the changing tides.

I run a hand through my hair and smooth it down again when I'm done.

Cade's gaze never leaves me.

He doesn't seem to be too concerned with getting back to his other customers and the thought of him bypassing potential tips to talk to me is, flattering.

I guess.

"I can't decide if I want to be that man's advocate or not," Cade chuckles under his breath. "He's a real dick."

"Got that right."

I grab my glass again, lifting it into the air in a 'cheers' gesture before gulping it down.

"But it's impossible to deny that he's into you," Cade counters, rubbing at the barely-formed stubble lining his lower jaw.

"To put it lightly."

"He's not into me. He has a boyfriend and I'm not gay."

Cade grabs another mini-can of coke and the bottle of Jack Daniels.

He brings them both to my glass, tipping them over to refill my drink.

The liquid slips over the ice cubes like an alcoholic waterfall.

I hastily grab it up again when it's filled to the top.

"Cheers."

"Better slow down," Cade remarks, tossing the empty can of Coca-Cola into the recycling bin.

"I have a feeling if boss man catches you down here sloshed again, it won't end well."

"I told you. He's out with his boyfriend and..." my snappy comment is cut short when my cell-phone vibrates in my pocket once, twice and then three times.

It has a different feel to it than a phone call, so I pull it out with hopeful fingers to see who is texting me.

Blake Benson: Where are you?

Blake Benson: If you are with that bartender again.

Blake Benson: I'm coming to get you. Be ready.

My stomach quivers.

He knows I'm here and he doesn't seem too thrilled about it.

I wonder what he'd do if he had me alone right now.

Would he force me to kiss him again?

A tremulous shiver rolls down my spine.

Would he punish me by doing, other things?

Sexual things?

I swallow hard, the Jack Daniels still lingering at the base of my throat.

The thought of being in a room alone with Blake makes my head spin.

Maybe it's the alcohol talking but the idea of pissing him off so that he'll touch me, is kind of hot.

I quickly text back.

Callum Greene: Don't bother. I won't be here.

Blake's response is instantaneous.

Blake Benson: You will remain where you are until I come and get you.

Callum Greene: Go fuck your boyfriend and leave me alone.

I glare at my cell-phone and shove it back into my pocket.

Cade's eyes are still on me, his smile slipping as he studies my features once again.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asks.

"I need to leave."

"The bar?"

"Yeah. I need to go."

"You going back to the hotel or...?"

I grit my teeth, staring down at the few bubbles popping up on the surface of my drink.

"I don't have anywhere else to go."

Cade glances around and then lowers his head towards me.

"I'm off in ten minutes. If you head to the back, I'll pick you up and we can go somewhere else. We can even go to my place if you want."

I jerk my head away.

Is he... does he... is he hitting on me?

At first the proposition confuses me, makes me uncomfortable even but then I remember Blake.

Blake and his annoying boyfriend, fag-tard Phil and a Cheshire grin spreads across my lips.

I can feel my pocket vibrating again, Blake's unread text seeming to burn a hole through my denim jeans.

I give Cade a nod of consent.

"Sounds like a plan. I'm in."

[squids-comics]

I finally finished the first two chapters of a new superhero novella over the break!! They're not great yet, but they're only first drafts that I wrote in like a week, so I didn't expect them to be. Anyways, enjoy The World That Didn't Want to be Saved!

Clark was a young boy, no older than 14. He walked through the barren streets that he once called home. He passed the shops he used to visit and the houses of friends he used to know, now little more than charred corpses. The stench of death lingered in the air, flooding his nostrils with each breath. Ash stuck to every surface, each step kicking up it's own cloud. The skyline of the city, once reaching up to the heavens, was now burnt to the ground. The whole place was a dull grey, like all the colour was sucked out when the bombs hit.

He was too young to remember the events as they happened. He had only heard the stories. A mighty beast dwelled in the heart of the city, threatening their very way of life. They had to get rid of it, for the good of the world. It was a threat to peace, to prosperity, and it needed to be purged. The city was just collateral, a necessary sacrifice. The civilians had all been evacuated before the bombs fell. Clark was one of them. The beast wasn't killed, but it was injured. No longer would it menace anyone, it didn't have the strength anymore. 

Clark had always been curious of the story. The evacuation was one of the biggest in history. Eleven million people all displaced from their homes, all for the good of the human race. Could the monster have really been that bad? And if it was, why didn't they finish the monster off? It would be easy to now that it was wounded. 

He crept through the wreckage, past the shells of burned cars, over the sidewalks melted from the heat of the bombs. He walked towards the center of the city, towards the heart. He had heard stories of the monster all his life. Now he was going to see it himself. He couldn't find any pictures of the monster in any history books or in any paper, but he had heard stories of it from every adult he asked. It was a bright blue, with a gaze sharp enough to pierce steel and a heart full of ice. Some people even claimed it could open its heart, cooling everything down enough to freeze someone solid. It's monstrous muscle mass was enough to flatten cities with ease. It could soar through the sky, as fast as a falcon, as viscous as a vulture. It had such big ears, it could hear a pin drop on the other side of the world. The thought of facing such a beast terrified Clark. But he didn't have a choice. He had to find her, no matter the cost.

Clark continued down the scorched streets, barely recognizable anymore. The pavement looked burnt and charred, like a marshmallow held in a campfire too long. The windows of stores and homes had melted, giving the sidewalks a glossy finish. Cars were flipped and smashed along the street, the sidewalks, the buildings, anywhere they were flung to. The wreckage left an uneasy feeling in the pit of Clark's stomach. It made him feel sick. He clenched his fist and kept marching forward, past the shattered homes and abandoned lives.

It was unsettling, seeing all the remnants of people's lives abandoned on the street. Occasionally Clark would stumble upon a ruined toy or piece of clothing, left haphazardly on the street, like it had fallen out of a hastily packed bag. Each object had a story behind it. The half melted plastic doll with all its hair burnt off had once made a child smile. The scorched and ripped ball gown had once been worn to the most lavish of parties. Now they were abandoned. Nothing but memories, echoes of a dying cities last words. They were left behind, lost, just like Clark.

After around an hour and a half of trekking through the ruins of the place he once called home, Clark reached the heart of the city. Downtown. Where the bombs hit. Where once stood tall towers scraping the sky, there was now a crater. A massive crater, about a block in diameter. There were no buildings, no roads, no walkways, no signs of life, save for the hut at the bottom.

At the bottom of the crater, in the very center, was a small shack, built from salvaged scrap. The hut was made out of car doors, steel beams, crumbling bricks, all items pulled from the wreckage Clark had just walked through. It seemed to be falling apart, but that's just natural for a frankensteined building such as this. It was like a zombie, damaged and decrepit, but somehow still alive. It was the only thing in the city that was. 

The shack had a beautiful garden in front of it. Grass and flowers bloomed around the house. They were unlike anything Clark had ever seen. They were much larger than normal flowers. Flowers that looked like small orchids grew to the height of sunflowers, with some growing even taller. They were all bright and vibrant colours. Pinks and oranges and yellows filled the crater. It was the only colour Clark had come across in the city. They almost seemed to be glowing softly, illuminating the sultry smog that sank across the city. It was beautiful. Vines from the plants rippled through the ground, like the roots of a tree. They reached up the house, wrapping around the assortment of items making up its walls. They seemed to be the only things holding it all together. 

A man was standing in the garden. 

He was odd looking, unlike anything Clark had seen before. He was hunched over slightly, but still quite tall. He had to be at least six feet tall. He seemed raged and tired, but his physique seemed to suggest he was well built. While his muscles had no doubt shrunk in his old age, his frame was still wide enough to pass as a body builder. The muscles had all decayed off his bones. He looked malnourished and weak. His receding hair was a dull olive green, saturated with dust and grime and ash. His skin was pale, with a faint blue hue shining through. His ears were pointed.

He was facing away from Clark. He was holding something in his hands, a lump of rusted scrap metal distorted into the shape of a watering can. He was watering the garden. Any other man would look small in the presence of such monumental flowers, but the man seemed right at home. He hummed a tune to himself while he worked, between coughing fits. He shook with each step he took, and holding the watering can seemed like a tremendous effort for him. 

Clark slid into the crater. This was the monster he was warned about. It had to be. He quickly clasped his hands around a nearby rock, clutching it tightly as he quietly crept forward. The monster in the garden didn't seem to notice a thing. Clark tip toed ever closer, ever nearer the beast that terrified billions. He closed the distance between them as quick as he could while remaining silent. He didn't want to hurt the monster, but it would be for the best. He would be doing the world a favour. The monster coughed, and Clark froze in his tracks. 

The monster spun around to face Clark. It had soft, worn down eyes with dark bags under them. Wrinkles littered its face, some formed from great joy, others great pain. It stared Clark in the eye as it began speaking. Its voice was hoarse and harsh, like each word was being painfully squeezed out. 

"Put the rock down. I won't hurt you Clark."

There was no sign of hostility in its voice. But it knew Clark's name. How? Clark was scared. He took a step away from it. The rock fell from his hand, hitting the ground with a hard thud. The monster smiled, turning away from Clark once more.

"Thank you."

The monster went back to watering its flowers. It acted like it didn't even notice Clark. He came all this way to see it, and he wasn't even important enough for it to face him. He felt his face heat up with anger. His pulse quickened. His fist clenched. He took a step forward. 

"I don't have your mother."

Clark stopped again. He was stunned. This thing was a monster. It had to be. How else could it know so much. But if it knew this much about him, it had to know where his mom was. And he'd have to get the information out of it.

"Where is she?" Clark asked, taking another step closer. He was nearly as scared as he was angry, but he couldn't let it see that. He had to act bigger than he felt.

"She's a reporter. She was telling a big story, a story someone didn't want told. Someone powerful." It turned around to face Clark once again. It seemed sad, almost regretful.

"What do you mean? What story?" 

It's true Clark's mom was a reporter. A good one at that. She always went above and beyond to find the truth in every story. She had been the target of many angry politicians and businessmen, and had been sued at least a few times. But she had never gone missing before. If the monster was telling the truth, then she must have found some terrible secret. Something truly massive.

The monster looked at the ground for a minute, refusing to look Clark in the eye. It breathed a large sigh, resetting the air in its lungs. When it collected enough to speak, it finally gained the courage to look him in the eye again. 

"My story. My real story."

Clark had heard the story of the monster many times. But it never sat right with him. Maybe there was more to it. Maybe that's what his mom had found. 

"What is your story?"

The monster smiled. "No one's ever asked me before. Come inside and grab a seat."

Thank you for reading through!! 'll post the second chapter tomorrow, or you can hop over to my Wattpad to read that now! I'm SquidsComics over there, or you can find a link in my pinned post!

[i-hope-no-one-finds-this]

The air is stagnant with desert heat that covers my thighs with sweat as I sit on the leather-bound chair. I contemplate if i am showing too much emotional distress or not enough. Should I keep eye contact for this long? He would get even more distraught if he thought i was not taking this conversation seriously, im not. He sits comfortably in his own chair, 5 feet in front of me. I think this is the most he has said to me in over three months and its a lecture, of course it is. “It hurts that you just have that emotion of ‘i-dont-give-a-fuck-especially-to-my-dad everytime I see you.’” Hmm, its because after the emotional trauma you have put me through I really can’t afford to spare any more mental room for your nonsense anymore. “Who do i live for?” Yourself. “Me.” i say. “Uh-huh. And have you ever wanted anything? Do people look at you and go shes poor as fuck? No, they havent. I am poor as fuck, i am so poor and i do it all so that you can have the nicest things, your car, your phone, your shoes…” You can take them all back if you want, wont change anything. “I just want you to admit what you did was fucked up and apologize, you knew that we had been talking about this, yet you still just dont give a fuck about my emotions or how it would effect me at all.” Oh, I have to respond fast here. “Honestly i am sorry dad, i really did not think this was that important to you. I knew you wanted to get one together, i just didn't realize it had to be my first one.” “Baby why would I not want it to be the first one?” Baby, thats a good sign. I really wonder if he thinks that i hate him, as a person i do, as family I just want him to be good to my mom and I, not treat us each like shit. A memory of a video of a girl describing how she leaves her boyfriends after a single argument because she is used to being let down by her father who will not change pops into my head. Huh, i guess he really has messed me up. Ladies choose your men right, dont let just anyone hit cause youre not only condemning yourself but also your child of a world of hell. I am a bad daughter, ill admit it at least. Better than claiming i deserve the best dad of the year i suppose. 

Statistically speaking, about 45% of American households are separated, and of all marriages in the country, about 17% of them are truly happy. Unluckily for my household, we are part of that 45 and 83 percent. My parents separated long before I can ever remember however, I vividly remember when they wanted to spend time all together seeing as they had a pretty good friendship and both shared a deep desire to spend more time with their one and only child, me. For a year and a half during high school, my parents decided to move into a house together as friends and roommates so that they both can have quality time with me while I still lived under the same roof as them till college. This friendly agreement was soon to be a terrible mistake that gave off the impression that I was living in a continuously breaking family. Imagine having to go to school early in the morning yet you can’t fall asleep because of the arguing going on apparently right outside your door. Imagine feeling guilty because you're the only reason both parents decided to do this in the first place, and now they have nowhere to go but to their pits of despair they call home. The repercussions of what was said after an especially bad argument would usually be days of silent treatment and lingering resentment clinging to the house walls. My only escape was school so when I dove into homework as soon as I got home, it would be confused as responsible indulgence, when the truth was I didn’t want to witness the confrontation my parents had with one another when they would return home from their day jobs. The house, however small it was, resembles an extremely hard time in my life, where I was consumed daily with self-destructing thoughts of why my parents argued daily, why I usually caught the backlashes of their disagreements when they would ask me if I agreed or not. That year, I finished having one of the highest GPAs I think I've had, ever. The continued hard work I put into studying and doing homework in order to get rid of my constant sadness and guilt had propelled me to set new highs for me in school.

[thesunmeltedthegrayaway]

Prompt 25 with Johnny Cade?

Prompt 25: Memories

~~~

It was a pretty warm night, the wind blew softly not causing much of a disturbance. Johnny had stepped out of the Curtis's house for a moment with a cancer stick clinched in his hand. He watched as the smoke he blew out blinded into the air, only faintly being seen due to the moonlight.

He could hear everyone talking inside still. Most of the gangs voices coming out as nothing more than a murmur. But out of everyone, yours stood out the most. You were laughing, most likely at something Two had said.

"Oh knock it off Two." You said, your voice growing louder the closer you got to the door.

Johnny turned his head as soon as he heard the door creak. You were careful not to slam it behind you.

"Mind if I sit with you?" You asked.

"I never mind when it comes to you." Johnny replied, stomping out his cancer stick.

You couldn't help but smile at his cheesiness, chuckling in reply. You down next to him, lightly resting your head on his shoulder. The pair of you sat in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the atmosphere around you. You could feel his eyes on you making you take your sights off the sky toward him.

"What?" You asked softly, your lips still curved with a soft smile.

He felt he had saw that same smile a hundred times before... but he every time he saw it, he felt exactly how he felt the first time he saw it.

"Just thinkin'." Johnny muttered.

"About what?"

"The first time we met..."

~~~

Johnny was just glad to finally get a break from all the moving around he had done. Dallas had dragged him and Pony all over town, not really planning on going to a particular place. But eventually, they stopped by the Dingo.

But waiting around for time to pass by got boring, even if it did give him a moment to just sit still. So, with an abundance of straws in hand, he and Pony began to blow wrapper and wrapper around the rundown restaurant.

He found a bit of amusement doing so, even if the waiter's and waitresses were getting more annoyed by the minute. But he didn't really pay too much mind to it, the worse they could do was throw them out.

But then, he heard a very familiar voice speak up suddenly.

"What the..." You rose up from the booth you were sitting in, which happened to be right next to his.

The second you sat up you saw him, a straw hanging lazily from his lips as he stared at you in shock. You found the sight of him to be pretty comical if you were being completely honest. You didn't really know what to say to him however so, you just gave him a small smile before turning your attention back to your shake.

Johnny on the other hand, didn't find any humor in the situation in the slightest. He had seen you around for a while and tried to talk to you a handful of times. But, something just always seemed to get in the way of each and every one of his attempts. Out of all the ways he wanted to finally meet you, this was definitely not one he would've picked.

He could see Dallas looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He looked completely confused, not realizing why Johnny was in such shock all of the sudden.

"The heck's wrong with you?" He asked bluntly.

Johnny could feel his face heat up, struggling to find the right words to say.

"They're the person I was talkin' about before." He muttered, hoping you wouldn't hear.

"Oh..." Dallas said, looking over at you before turning back to Johnny. "Go talk to them then man." He urged.

"I can't now." Johnny said incredulously.

"It's just paper Johnny, it's not like you threw food at 'em." Pony reassured him.

Suddenly, another white wrapper came into Johnny view, hitting him right on the chest. He looked up to see you smiling at him mockingly before tossing the unused straw back onto the table.

"I have to agree with your friend there it is just paper." You said calmly. "I think we have the same History class, you're Johnny right?"

Johnny just nodded in reply, feeling relief that you were even annoyed with him.

"I'm Y/N..."

Before Johnny had the chance to reply to you. One of the disgruntled waitresses from before came by, groaning in annoyance at the sight of the white wrapper on the floor.

"That's it, you boys are outta here. I'm tired of cleaning up after you three!" She said sternly, giving the three boys an angry stare.

"We didn't even-" Dallas started, but the waitress was having none of his excuses.

"Oh don't even try to pull that innocent stunt on me! You three are the only ones who were doing that. Get out, now." The waitress ordered before storming off to the front counter.

With much reluctance, Johnny got up from the booth. Just when he had gotten the chance to finally talk to you, another obstacle was getting into his way.

"Uh." You suddenly spoke up, making Johnny halt in his movements. "Sorry I got you booted but... I'll see you around sometime?"

Johnny nodded, giving you a small smile. "Yeah sure."

"You are going to get out or-"

"Alright, we're goin' already!" Dallas interjected loudly before pretty much dragging Johnny out the door.

You leaned back into the booth as you watched them leave, scoffing humorously at the interaction you had with him.

"Well, that's one way to meet someone..."

~~~

"It was a great first impression." You said genuinely.

Johnny shook his head, now smiling himself. "I'd say it was more memorable than great."

"Memorable's great too." You replied reassuringly. "Made sure I wouldn't forget about you." You added, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Johnny looked back down at you, his heart racing as he did. No matter how long he had been together with you, his heart still had a mind of it's own...

"I'm real glad you didn't forget..."

~~~

A/N: Sorry if these might be taking a bit longer than you might've like. I'll try to get these request out quicker :)

If anyone would like to make a request of their own, check out this list for all the prompts I'm doing!

Images do not belong to me.

[raggaraddy]

The perfect day.

OT7 Reaction: When Yandere BTS decides to give you a perfectly happy day.

Trigger warning: Soft-as-hell, mentions of blood-drinking, mentions of torture, D/s themes, examples of a healthy D/s relationship, tiny bit of smut.

Alpha! Namjoon

Namjoons house was such a communal space that it was rare for there to be any kind of peace and quiet. Today though, you had woken up to silence. No extra people visiting or working, and no one eating your food. This morning it was only you and Namjoon.

It was nothing you'd ever discussed but you were happy to hear that the continuous stream of people also became too much for Namjoon from time to time. So he sent everyone away. He wanted the whole day for just you and him.

With a bag packed, and two bikes prepared, the two of you head off along the dirt path through the forest and up into the mountains.

Even though you were raised in the city and loved the pace and excitement it brought, there was a sense of wonder and relaxation that you attached to the country.

Riding together was so peaceful. The sounds of the dirt crunching under the tires. The chill of the autumn air on your skin cooling the warmth you were building from cycling. Watching the patterns of the changing leaves. The sun shimmering through the greens, reds, oranges, and yellows, making you feel as if you were under nature's stained glass. You were riding for hours yet you never felt tired. Feeling freer than you had in a while.

Breaking on the bank of a stream Joon sets up a place for the two of you to rest. The sound of flowing water, overcast by your fits of laughter. You and Namjoon recanting stories from your time together. Only the good memories coming to your mind.

His energy, his happiness, the way his eyes smile and sparkle. Your big strong Alpha had never looked more human. And every time you looked at him you could feel your chest swelling with love and admiration.

Curling up under a tree, Joon's natural heat was warming you as you watched the sun bounce off the water. You can't remember a time before this where you felt so entirely complete.

"I love you," You look up to him, your heart pouring out those words for the first time. Unable to contain how strongly and surely you felt it.

It was the most subtle reaction but you could see it. You could feel it. In that moment relief rushed over Namjoon. His soul surrendering to yours.

Holding you a bit tighter, his hand comes under your chin gently lifting your head a little higher. Kissing you so softly. And you knew now, more than ever, that your heart belonged to him.

"I love you too," he whispers back.

King! Seokjin

Your day had been a little harder than normal. Not from anything specific. Mostly you could tell it was your mental state that made the day feel longer. Returning to your quarters you were worn out, ready to shut your brain off for the day. The moment you opened your door though, your energy was reinvigorated. Laid on your bed was a gown more beautiful than any you'd ever seen.

At first, you were too scared to even touch it. It looked more expensive than anything you could ever dream to own. That was until you saw the dinner invitation resting on top of the dress, and the note attached; For my Princess.

It wasn't possible to get the dress on by yourself. The weight was a bit more than you were expecting. Looking in the mirror you couldn't even recognize yourself. And you were feeling quite embarrassed having the other servants see you in something you clearly had no place to wear. However, walking into the dining hall and seeing Jin smile at you, all of those problems fade away and you only feel beautiful.

You had feared dining with the King in such a formal setting would be overwhelming. But it wasn't. It was comfortable and quiet.

Aesthetic plates of exquisite food come out one course after the other. Paired with wines accenting the flavours in a way you didn't know could be possible. Filled with passion, Jin spoke about the food in-depth, explaining aspects of the cooking, the foods origin, and the dishes, in a way you had never thought to consider. Watching him warmly as his enthusiasm lit up the room.

As the meal came to an end, you were a little sad to think the night was drawing to a close. Leading you to the great hall, Jin assuages your concerns. Everything was lit to perfection for only the two of you. Music filling the space, as you danced into the night.

"Why did I deserve all of this?" you ask, swaying in Jin's arms. The music and the lights have dimmed. The scene reminiscent of fantasies you had long ago that you had nearly forgotten.

"I call you my Princess. It's only fair I treat you like a Princess from time to time."

Assassin! Yoongi

You had begun your daily routine. You'd fed yourself breakfast, showered, and tidied your room. All before 10 am.

Coming downstairs, you find Yoongi waiting for you on the bottom step. Holding his hand out for you.

"Come with me."

A little nervous, you accept, following after him to the back door. The black heavy curtains, which usually covered the large floor to ceiling door and windows, were pulled back. The sliding door was drawn wide open. Sunlight streaming throughout the bottom floor.

Your heart was fluttering in excitement. It had been nearly a year since you had even stepped a foot out of this house. You're anxious as you get close, it feeling wrong to cross the doorway. But Yoongi doesn't pause. Taking you with him as he walks onto the verandah.

"I thought it was too nice to stay inside today." He explains, watching your eyes go wide as you look around the open, green property.

Reservedly you venture forward until you get to the edge of the stone pavers. Looking longingly at the grass, the garden, pond, and the endless space. You look back to Yoongi for approval.

"Can I?" You ask in a hush.

He nods. "Where I can see you."

As your toes sink into the grass, your soul jumps for joy. Waves of pure delight washing over you.

You stretch out on the grass, having missed the way it smelt, the way it was sharp and soft at the same time. Laying in the sun, feeling it soak into your skin. Listening to the sounds of the breeze through the trees, the sounds of birds, or the babble of water flowing in the pond. The beauty of the flowers, noticing like you never had before how distinct each kind was, and how each had a unique smell and feel. Adventuring further from the house. You go as far as you can, watching the land dip and raise, stretching endlessly ahead of you. Looking back seeing how small and far off the house looks and the way space keeps going on forever on every side of the house. Feeling liberated to know that it isn't just the inside of that house that exists.

All the while, Yoongi is sitting on the outdoor lounge, resting with a book. Looking up periodically to check that you're still in his eye line.

As the sun begins to set, you pull him onto the grass wanting him to lay with you. Watching the sky shift through every colour you've ever seen.

Laying with your head on his lap, until the sun finally sets and the stars fill the sky instead.

Vampire! Hoseok

Being shaken awake by Hoseok, you yawn and stretch. Feeling tired still. Looking at the clock on the wall, it's only 9 am. You've only had 3 hours of sleep. So he must be hungry. You instinctually hold out your arm out, offering for him to eat.

"Not now," He says flatly, sitting down beside you. Leaning on your elbows you sit up, looking at him baffled. He's never refused your blood before. Lately, he's been behaving so strangely. Ever since he seriously hurt you last week.

"Have- is something wrong?" You ask feeling nervous.

The other day he spent hours essentially torturing you. You didn't want to give him any means to hurt you more, so you didn't fight him or complain. And you hardly screamed. But his behaviour recently had you worried that he was upset. You know he prefers the game, the hunt. And in the back of your mind, you kept thinking that maybe he was getting bored of you.

"Yes." He answers. Your heart jumps into your throat as he says it. Instantly you feel like crying from fear.

"Wh-what did I do?" Your eyes start to water.

"What do you think you did?" He pushes on your chest, slamming you back into the bed, hovering over you.

Your mind is racing. There isn't any actual offence that comes to mind. But he must think you did something awful to decline drinking from you.

He bursts out laughing as a tear breaks through, rolling down your cheek. Your breath tight in your chest.

"Okay, I've had my fun." he leans back. His intense demeanour abruptly switching. Confusion mixing with your panic. "I can't be too nice baby, you might get the idea you shouldn't be scared of me."

You have no clue of what's going on. You just watching him tensely.

"You've been so well behaved lately. I wanted to give you something." He holds his hand down for you to take, sitting you up. "Some of my people are going to take you out today. Anywhere you want to go."

Your jaw drops. You haven't been off this property in 14 months. Not since he took you. You hardly even get to go into the daylight anymore.

"I'll give you until midnight to be back. Go see your family, go to a bar and get hammered, spend money, pet an animal. I don't know, whatever bullshit human things you wanna do."

Your fear and confusion melt away, replaced with pure excitement. A genuine joyous expression filling your face for the first time in forever.

"I-I," Your mind is swelling with everything you want to do, everything you have dreamed about doing again. That you never thought you could. "Hobi, I don't know what to say. Thank you."

He grabs behind your head, pulling your face to his, "Keep in mind that fear you just had, baby. And make sure to come back to me on time." he kisses you lightly while looking you in the eyes. "I'd hate to ruin your perfect day."

Playboy! Jimin

For several weeks now, you were struggling at work. Your office had a heavy social environment and there was a new girl who was making your life hell. She was catty and gossipy and constantly bragging about her amazing boyfriend. You couldn't care less about her menial life, but she kept belittling you and everybody else, and worst of all your office friends were buying into her bullshit.

For the past few nights, you had come home and vented to Jimin. Who as always, sat and listened to you while you ran through every detail. You didn't know then, but he wanted to help you fix your problem.

Today, it was Thursday with a long weekend ahead. The office bitch had been bragging all day that her boyfriend was going to take her to a fancy restaurant and just generally running her mouth as usual. At this point, you'd stop trying to add to the discussion. No matter what you said, you knew she would find a way to bring the conversation back to herself.

But it's fine. You were secure in the knowledge that Jimin was better than her's or any of their boyfriends. And you didn't even care if they knew it or not.

Collecting your things, you are all about to head to lunch when you hear a chorus of giggling and awws directed behind you.

Turning to check on the commotion, your face lights up. Jimin is walking towards you looking hot as hell, a bouquet of red roses in hand.

By the time he gets to you, you have the attention of the whole office.

"I just wanted to come by and let you know that I love you." He grins. Looking down at you sweetly he offers the flowers, making you giggle. Your face filling with a massive smile.

"Is that for me too?" you ask playfully, noting the jewellery box in Jimin's hand.

"It can't match your beauty, Angel." He opens the box and you audibly gasp. Sitting on a beautifully delicate white gold chain is a gorgeous, sparkling diamond. "But then again, nothing can." he winks.

Biting your lip, you're getting wrapped up in Jimin. Sometimes you forget just how smooth he can be.

"You can wear this when we land in Greece tonight." He smirks, fastening the necklace around your neck. He's having too much fun, loving your reaction and all the attention he's giving you.

"You're taking me to Greece." You ask, beaming.

"First-class, private beachside villa, anything your heart could desire." You're cheeks feel so warm from the lustful way Jimin is looking at you. "And it still wouldn't be everything you deserve."

He's doing too much, looking too good, you're really having to restrain yourself from pulling him into an empty conference room.

"I don't want to interrupt your lunch. I'll pick you up after work when I can have you all to myself." Leaning down he kisses you lightly. It's a struggle, but you keep your composure. Just thinking, instead, about all the things you're gonna do when you get him all to yourself.

"Enjoy your day, Angel." He purrs. Your eyes trailing him as he leaves, completely enamoured. And feeling proud knowing all of the other girls, and a few of the boys were as turned on by him as you were.

Taking a breath to calm yourself, you turn. All of your friends are there waiting with stars in their eyes. Erupting into a sea of excited screams, and giggles. Women coming from all corners of the office to hear the story and see your presents.

"He just likes to spoil me." you try to play it off cool, with a gentle smile. Catching the eye of the office bitch as she tries to mask her bitter scowl.

You take it back, you totally care that everyone knows your Boyfriend is better than theirs. And God, he knows how to put on a good show.

Jimin might be treating you like a queen all weekend, but her jealousy was the best gift he could have given you.

Dom! Taehyung

It felt like it was just you and him. The rest of the world didn't matter right now. Not for either of you.

He was being slow and methodical. Letting you intimately feel the way the leather flicked along your back. Letting you feel the weight of the flogger as it hit you. Humming in your ear, reminding you to breathe, reminding you that you were his. That you were loved and that you were safe. Pushing you to go further. Pushing you to endure. All your focus falling on the pleasure from the pain and his presence.

Slowly, he worked with you. Giving you everything you needed to get into your space. Striking you over and over, helping you reach that perfect point where the sensations took over and everything else dropped away. A flood of emotion and euphoria overflowing, bringing you to tears. The relief was overwhelming as all your stress, all your anxiety, all your thoughts disappeared. All gone. Until Taehyung was the single thing in your mind.

He catches your weight as he releases you from the wall hooks, your body is floating and your legs can barely hold you up.

He knew your space intricately. He knew for a while you weren't going to move and most likely for the remainder of the day, you would hardly feel the need to speak. Laying a pillow under your head, wrapping you in a blanket he stroked your hair, keeping you warm and close. Allowing you to rest in a space that was somewhere between unconsciousness and bliss.

With no concept of how long might have passed, you hear Taehyung's softly spoken voice grounding you. Gently leading you back into your surroundings. Letting you move as you feel comfortable, he guides you into the shower. The warmth of the both of you under the running water returning movement and energy to your body. Using your new regained motion to keep close to him.

Dressing you in nothing but his hoodie and underwear, and dressing himself in nothing but sweatpants, he sets the two of you up in the living room. There sat between his legs on a pillow, you watch a movie together. Your body feeling relaxed and a bit sore. Your mind still cruising on the high as Taehyung continues petting you, keeping you hydrated and fed, and cared for. Showering you with praise and love.

The whole while you still hadn't spoken or moved on your own. Taehyung knew exactly what you wanted and what you needed. He was in complete control and you were perfectly happy, feeling completely owned and secure.

Mafia! Jungkook

It had been a rough couple of weeks. Jungkook's house had been continuously full of people. The crew's headquarters was being renovated and everyone was meeting and working from the Bosses house instead. Which meant you had been on high alert for the entire time. Even when Jungkook came to bed, he didn't switch back, meaning you stayed continuously aware of his presence and mood, even waking up in a panic.

But today is the first day that they left. Yesterday everyone cleared everything out, and today the house you're waking up in is just that. A house. Nothing more.

Beside you in bed, Jungkook stirs awake. "Good morning, Kitten." He yawns, finally sounding affectionate again after so long. Like you, he was also tired from needing to be focused and in control for such a lengthy amount of time. And he was eager to have a day where the two of you could reconnect.

But he knew to counter the stress and pressure that had built up, it would need to be a big gesture. He hardly ever took you out of the house, and when he did, it was never to do anything leisurely. Usually, it was sounding his work. However, today he would make an exception.

After driving for about 30 minutes you arrive at the coast. He continues offroad, going down a dirt track that opens onto an empty untouched length of beach.

A beautiful paradise only for you and him.

Readily prepared for the day, the car is packed to the brim with beach toys. As soon as you arrive a day of fervent competition breaks out.

You played:

Beach volleyball, which you won.

Football, which he won.

A race to see who could blow up the animal floaties first. He won, but he used the pump and not his mouth, which was clearly cheating.

A sandcastle challenge, that neither of you could win as you kept kicking down the other's.

And a swimming race, which you kicked his butt at.

By the time the sun started setting, you were both physically tired from playing in the sun and water and sand. But once again you were happy and calm in each other's presence. Which is what you had been aching for.

Leading Jungkook into the gentle waves, you want nothing more than to reconnect physically with him also. You wrap your legs around his waist. Letting him hold you as he stands in the chest-high water. Slowly and tenderly you kiss him. Allowing the both of you time to find your way back to one another. As you begin to long for it, you intimately and passionately make love. Feeling your hearts beating in the same rhythm as you join together in ecstasy.

Resting in that moment, looking into his eyes, all of the damage from the last few weeks wipes from your memory. Leaving behind nothing but the love you can feel and the perfect calm of being in his arms right now.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝘽𝙇𝙊𝙊𝘿𝙔 𝙆𝙉𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙇𝙀𝙎 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙨 (18+)

∘ request(s): 

“aaah your edgy karl is just *chefs kiss* so good!! could i get the reader patching up edgy karl after a particularly bad fight?”

“can we get something a bit softer for the edgy!karl series? Just love when guys like that are soft with the reader xx”

"ouu maybe for the next part of the edgy karl series reader makes it all about karl? like they end up sleeping in the same bed or smth and while karl is still sleepy/barely waking up reader just makes him feel good"

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: nsfw (18+), mentions of blood, mentions of fighting, drug use (smoking weed), crude language, oral (m. receiving)

∘ word count: 2417

∘ links: AO3, prev. chapter

∘ a/n: THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REQUESTS FOR EDGY!KARL. YOUR IDEAS ARE HNNNNGGG SO GOOD JESUS CHRIST! 

Also if you guys would like to make some of the edgy!Karl edits for the headers and submit them to me, I'll use them :D

This is a bit more dOmEsTiC than this series has been going but, hopefully you guys are still into it. Anyway, I hope everyone is having a good week! Happy reading :)

The air was crisp as the sun began to set; night slinking towards your apartment to envelop you and Karl within its darkness. The two of you watched intently as the ball of light crept towards the horizon line. Karl's arm threaded across your torso, fingertips brushing against the skin of your stomach peeking from beneath the hem of your shirt. You leaned your head against his embrace, wrapping your own arms around his as you sat between his legs. The sound of soft chatter from other floors beneath you filled the expanses between your apartment building and the one adjacent to it. As night fell, people cracked open their windows and hung their feet over the fire escapes. 

You and Karl had been out prior to this, sharing a joint as you watched the stars roll in. Karl's back was pressed against the brick wall beneath your window, the blunt hanging loosely from his slender fingers as he bent his knee, giving you something else to curl your arms around. From across the way, someone began playing music, making someone in the apartment directly under the two of you to begin singing. 

Karl took a drag off the blunt before letting the thick smoke pour from between his lips. "I think I need to teach you how to skate," he stated rather nonchalantly as he offered you the joint. 

You scoffed at his remark, leaning your head back against his chest and taking the blunt from him. "I'd like to see you try," you shot back jokingly, fully knowing you didn't have the balance and he didn’t have the patience, yet something churned within you at the thought. You knew you shouldn't have thought anything of it really, but Karl sharing a portion of something he's passionate about with you was next to a love language. 

Since spring break had begun, Karl had begun staying over at your place more frequently. During these nearly intimate moments where it had been only the two of you keeping each other company, you'd come to see Karl as more of a friend than just a booty call. Slowly peeling back the layers of his esoteric aura, you found out his quirks that you'd come to only associate with him, such as the brand of nail polish he trusted because it was a recommendation from a girl in his art class, or how when he was thinking about something deeper than a food order, he'd slick a hand through his hair to brush his bangs out of his eyes. 

Yet this meeting was spurred by something else. He’d shown up on your doorstep with a black eye and bruised knuckles. You knew his housemates were beginning to trickle back to campus, so you figured almost instantly that Todd had figured out what the two of you had been up to when he was gone. 

You pulled your front door open, tugging your hoodie closer to your body against the wind from outside. Karl stood before you, leaning a hand against your doorframe with a small smile plastered over his busted lip. There was a cut across his cheekbone as if whoever had hit him wore various rings. You gave into the impulses ringing in your body and reached up for his face, gently brushing a thumb against his jaw, which you could now tell was also beginning to bruise. One of his hands reached up to hold your wrist, his fingers grazed against your skin with such gentleness. The action was almost a juxtaposition to the way he looked. 

Karl sat down on your toilet, his eyes watching each of your movements as you fished through your cabinet for your roommate’s first aid kit. He wasn’t acting like he had been dragged around instead, he seemed more excited to see you than anything. Maybe that was due to the fact that you fed him, and stray dogs always come back to food. 

After clearing most of the dried blood from his wounds, you went about disinfecting and sealing him up. You stood between his legs, gently dabbing at the cut on his cheek, trying desperately not to think about how you were finally living out one of your fantasies. He leaned into your touch almost as if your skin held the elixir of life. You fought not to ask him what had happened because you knew he didn’t like talking about it, but you couldn’t help but worry about him a bit. 

You hugged the arm he had around you tighter to your chest, your eyes fixating on an open window across the way from the two of you. There were two people having dinner in a room next to the window, a warm glow from the lamps inside spilling into the dimming night. "Did it get lonely in that big ass house?" You inquired, watching his fingers reach to throw out the dead bud. That hand moved to play with your own, threading his fingers in and out of yours. The bandage wrapped around the base of his fingers stiffened his movements, but he seemed not to pay any mind to it. “I mean, even though you spent most of your time over here…” 

You felt him shrug against you. "I don't know." He was quiet for a minute as he thought. "I had the memories of what we did in—what did you call him? Todd?—Todd's bed, to keep me company," he quipped, making you snort. You leaned further back against him, enough to where your head was resting on his shoulder so you were looking up at the faint stars dotting the light-polluted sky. He rested his chin on your shoulder quietly. 

As the night grew colder, the two of you climbed back through the window, the haze of the weed still stimulating your mood, yet you quickly found yourself falling asleep in Karl's arms as he tucked your plush comforter around the two of you. His breathy sigh cascaded over your shoulders as he dug his face into your hair. He'd discarded his hoodie before joining your side, so his skin was now warm and inviting as he pressed against you. You bit back a laugh as you silently wished his aftercare was as soft as moments like these. 

A crack of thunder shook you from a dream, pulling you awake rather quickly. Your gaze lifted to peer at the clock on your nightstand as the rain seemed to hammer harder on the windows of your bedroom. Karl was sleeping peacefully beside you, arms lazily threaded through your pillows, unintentionally keeping your body closer to him. The bruising on his face somehow had gotten worse, but you were hoping there wasn’t any permanent damage. Maybe he’d have a scar like Johnny Cade? 

You slipped into his arms, earning a content sigh from Karl as his hands pushed beneath your shirt to brush his coarse fingers against the soft skin of your back, dipping into the valley of your spine. You pressed your lips against his shoulder before traveling the length of his collarbone and ending at his neck. He hummed in pleasure, still groggy from sleep. You let your lips glide over his skin, before leaning up to kiss him softly. He pulled you closer to him, deepening the kiss with hints of passion despite the fact that he was still taking his time to wake up completely. 

Your hands danced towards his sweatpants and you felt him smile against your lips. You pulled away from him slightly, digging your face into the crook of his neck. “Let me make you feel good,” you leered, earning a lazy chuckle from him, his fingers knotting into your hair. A clap of lightning flashed outside, the thunder following to sound as if the storm was sitting on your building’s roof. 

Your fingers dipped beneath his waistband, palming him over his boxers slightly. A hushed moan of gratitude slipped past his lips as he softly bucked his hips against your hand while you applied more pressure. Karl sealed his lips against yours, the kiss sending heat throughout your body as his tongue pressed into your mouth, swirling with your own. A moan echoed through his body and into your mouth as he hardened against your hand, asking for more. One of his hands grazed the length of the arm that was working on him, his hand gently grasping your wrist. 

You heeded his silent requests, moving your hand so you could straddle him. You ground your hips against him, the friction between your clothes making the fabrics seem thicker and more barrier-like than anything. One of his hands pressed against the small of your back, driving you harder against him. You broke the kiss breathlessly, sitting off of him and tugging your shirt over your head, his eyes grazed over you almost thankfully. 

You pushed back the heavy covers, slinking down his legs until you were laying flat, tugging his boxers down in front of you. Your room flashed a bright white as the lightning from outside began to pick up. The sound of the rain's war against your windows was the only sound mixing with Karl's soft moan as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. You pressed your lips against his tip, one of his hands moving to rest behind his head so he could see you better. Your fingers icked to please him, his body reacting to each of your movements. 

He tensed under your grasp as you began to pump your hand, drawing out another soft moan from the man above you. "Does that feel good?" You taunted looking up at him through your eyelashes. He chuckled slightly, a dusting of pink settling into his cheeks. Your tongue slid along his length, basking in how his moans edged on being vulgar as you eased your mouth around his arousal. You bobbed your head once before pulling off of him, continuing to speed your hand motions gradually. His gaze was hazy as he attempted to avoid your sultry eye contact, him twitching at your movements each time he did. 

His lips were redder as he chewed on the flesh of them, evident as he continued to fight each moan wanting to escape. You were slightly surprised at this, considering Karl was always shamelessly loud. Maybe it was because he was so vulnerable to you know, and you were in charge. 

Your lips slowly traveled back to his arousal, his gray irises swimming with pleasure as you settled into to take him deeper into your mouth. His grip on your arm tightened as you pushed his tip past your lips once again, a strangled groan of pure pleasure hissing through his teeth. As he reached the back of your throat, tears began to brim in the corners of your eyes and his arousal twitched in your mouth. You began to bob your head once again, edging him on further with each of his moans of your name which you knew was a warning that he was close. You alternated the movements of your mouth and hand, making him fight against bucking his hips towards you. His cock tensed and in an instant, hot sticky strands of pleasure were filling your mouth.

He reached forward to brush his finger against your cheek, wiping away some tears that had pressed from your eyes. You pressed your lips against his thigh before crawling back up towards him. He tugged you on top of him again, lips kneading against yours as a silent appreciation. You push his hand back, threading your fingers with his own, careful not to squeeze against his bruised knuckles that you could tell were sore. You bit back a laugh at the thought of your poor broken boy. 

As the rain picked up heavier, you sank down on his arousal, earning a deep moan from Karl. The feeling of him inside of you this early in the day was a new kind of bliss. You curled your hips against him before bending down to press your lips against his, his hand tightening around yours. You ground against him, pushing him deeper into you, looking to elicit more of his sultry noises that alone—you were convinced—could send you over the edge. Your mind was set on getting him to climax again. Your teeth brushed against his teeth before moving alongside his jaw, letting him catch his breath. 

You pushed his shirt up as you sat back, fingers grazing down his chest as you moved, watching his eyes cloud with bliss to replace their morning hue. As you began to pick up your pace and use him as leverage, you held onto the forearm of his that was gripping onto you. He moaned a few curse words, his head dipping back in bliss, causing the veins in his neck to be more prominent. You moved the hand that was holding onto your waist up to your face. You slipped his index finger into your mouth and his lips parted, eyes fully focused on your actions as your tongue swirled around his fingers. 

His attention burned into you, his jaw tensing with each of your tactics. His hand moved from your mouth to wrap around the back of your neck, bringing your lips back to his. As the coolness of his tongue ring grazed against your own tongue, your hips pressed against him harder. You swallowed his moans, feeling him twitch inside of you as you sped up, tightening around him. Thunder shook your tiny apartment again. 

He cursed darkly, biting back another groan. In no time, you felt his heat come undone inside of you, pride swelling in your chest at how easy it was for you to get him off. Pleasure drenched his expression, gray irises blooming with bliss and contentment. He pressed his lips against yours briefly before you curled into bed beside him. The two of you sat in silence, listening to the rain. 

Karl cleared his throat slightly. "If we do that enough times, do you think we'd get horny whenever there's a storm?" 

You furrowed your brows. "What, like you want me to Pavlov you?" 

"Yeah."

There was a beat of silence as you fought how to respond to his question. "It'd be interesting to be in your head for a day," you opted. 

Tags:

@mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit

[nanaminokanojo]

BLOOM | Sukuna X You | Part 1/3

CHARACTERS: Sukuna X You | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Maki | Fushiguro Toji | Baby Megumi | Megumi's Mom (OC) CHAPTER COUNT: 1/3 WORD COUNT: 8900+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | (eventual) smut | ooc sukuna | female reader CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity/strong language | alcohol use | cigarette smoking | age gap | unhealthy simping XD SPOILERS: N/A

collection masterlist

one two three | Bloom Masterlist

His hair was the color of cherry blossoms, that's the first thing you noticed. It was the softest shade of pink, easy on the eyes, reminding you of the tendrils of filtered rays of the sun lightly touching the edges of clouds very early in the morning. Or your favorite angora wool sweater.

The man stole your attention from the book you were reading when you chanced a look from your periphery just to check who sat on the stool beside your usual spot on the bar – the seat at the very end by the wall. Your planned glance turned into a furtive stare at the sight of him from his candy-floss-hued hair, the rippling muscles hidden under his white oxford shirt and the array of tattoos that peeked through his neatly folded sleeves. And boy, since when did men smell like vanilla and spring while also exuding such a virile scent?

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth at the thought, internally shaking your head at your behavior. You should not be staring at people, and though you weren't exactly ogling him, you were still observing him enough to associate him with your favorite article of winter clothing.

"Hey. The usual for you?" you heard Maki, the bar owner, ask, giving you the idea that the man was a regular. How you haven't spotted him before was a mystery.

If it was already hard concentrating on the novel you were reading, you've completely forgotten about it when you heard him say, "Make that single-malt." It's either the gates of hell opened at the sudden heat you felt on your skin at the sound of his voice or the gates of heaven did with how delicious it sounded in your ear, thick like honey and deep with a distinct ring to it. It got you wondering what his mother craved for when she was pregnant with him, and your brain said, "Greek gods," when you lifted your eyes from the current page you were reading and briefly exchanged looks with him as he shifted his line of vision from Maki to you.

You turned your eyes back to your book, making it seem like you were just absently looking about, but in reality, it took herculean effort to wrench your gaze from him. In that brief meeting of your eyes, the features of his face registered in your head like a bar code scanner, etching itself in your mind like a white-hot brand. He wasn't shockingly handsome, but he was beautiful in his own right with those intense eyes that reminded you of drowning pools and the rugged yet refined planes of his face. It was as if an artist painted him in passionate anger, slowly fell in love with the piece and began redefining his features with gentler strokes.

You turned the page of your book despite not getting any reading done. Well, it has been the case for a considerable amount of minutes now, but you tried anyway, furiously staring down at the new page but not comprehending anything. Your eyes kept scanning the same sentence over and over again but it was not sinking in at all.

"Excuse me, miss," that deep voice you've already developed a strange affection for assaulted your senses again, making your head snap up to the direction it was coming from. Hell, you think you'll do its owner's bidding just hearing it at the rate you were going, reacting automatically as if you were programmed with a voice prompt or something.

You were about to look at him but Maki caught your attention as she pushed the smoothie you ordered towards you, placing it precisely in front of you on the hardwood surface with her fingers. She arched a brow at you, causing you to stiffen on your seat.

You've been coming to the quiet little bar since you grew old enough to drink. In fact, you considered it your regular watering hole, going there whenever you can even in the day as it doubled as a gastro-pub. You've already come to know the staff who reserved the spot for you every single time you told them you were coming, particularly the tough but very lovable Maki. She's basically a friend now, and you knew you were acting off if she was giving you odd looks.

"Thanks, Maki," you said just in time, even managing to smile. She just shook her head at you before walking away to tend to another client.

"I have to know what book you are reading," the person beside you said just as you began sipping on your drink, which, you've noted, was a cherry blossom tea smoothie that reminded you of him.

You let go of the straw between your lips, swallowing hard. Turning your attention to him, you found him sitting sideways, chin propped on the heel of his palm as he regarded you. "Huh?" was all you could manage to say to him.

A slow, crooked smile etched itself across his mouth, the action appearing sensuous with the gradual way his expressions changed. "That book," he said for your benefit. "May I know what it is about?"

You just blinked, still questioning yourself if he was addressing you.

"If you're that engrossed about it, it must be great," he said. "Mind telling me the title?"

"Book?" you asked dumbly. He was really frying your brain.

He pointed at the book you were holding with his lips, protruding them slightly before smiling again. Jesus, you loved the way he smiled. The gesture didn't belong there when you've already thought he was the smirking, grinning-devil type. It was too soft a gesture, but then again his hair was shell-pink – a contradiction to his stridently brawny features.

"Oh." Despite yourself, you found yourself chuckling. "I'm sorry, I was distracted."

"Not by the book, I hope."

You looked away, smiling to yourself as you closed the object in question and slid it over to him. When you looked at him, you were surprised to see him actually reading the synopsis at the back, interest flickering in his dark eyes. You were already expecting him to just read the title, probably the author, too, thinking he was just flirting with you judging by his last words. But he was actually reading it.

"It's about an architect," he stated. "He must be mind-blowingly awesome if you're too transfixed on his story."

"No, Howard Roark is mostly a recalcitrant bastard who breaks rules here and there, doesn't cooperate or collaborate and is stone-faced about most anything."

"But it's what you like about him," he supplied.

You nodded. "He’s a breath of fresh air in a world governed by stuffy archaic principles. The spring to a long, stagnant winter of conformity. I'm in love with him." Noticing the look of amusement on his face, you were quick to add, "What?"

"Nothing." His smile didn't waver though. "Are you an architect, too?"

"Too?" you repeated with inflection then tilted your head. "Ah, you're an architect, huh?"

"Guilty."

"Any projects of note?" you asked, tilting your head in wonder when he seemed flustered. "What is it?"

He shook his head slowly. "You're very straightforward."

At that, you grinned. "Should I take you out to dinner before I get that information?" You sipped leisurely at your smoothie, glad that you throw him off as much as he flusters you.

"You don't have to," he found himself answering anyway. "But I work for a firm, so they get most of the credit. We built that new hotel at Shinjuku."

"Eh? Didn't pin you for a baroque kind of guy."

"You know..." He was all ears now judging by how he leaned closer to you. He leveled his expression to yours then. "So, what kind of guy did you think I am?"

There it is, you thought, the smirk you've been waiting for. Without giving it much thought, you said, "The Howard Roark type, of course."

***

"You seriously don't remember, do you?"

It wasn't that you didn't. You simply had no idea how you got home, considering how you ended up all smashed after enjoying too many margaritas after your smoothie. You seriously just didn't know certain things. You didn't know what happened after you reached your limit. And out of all the things you know you should not have missed, you didn't know his name.

You were sitting on the kitchen counter, nursing a headache, trying to fill in every bit of information your friends were trying to leech out of you in your addled state. You've been expecting it - the great inquisition - especially after you returned in a state lesser than they've been expecting, unconscious, according to the collective stories of your roommates, when you told them you were just stepping out to get some reading done. And on a school night, no less. Very atypical of you indeed.

"What should I be remembering?" you responded to Ieiri. You weren't exactly fond of her worrisome nature although you knew she was just watching your back especially since she has been rather disapproving of your escapades with these guys you somewhat dated back then. You appreciated it, but it didn't mean you liked it.

"Oh, I don't know, Y/N. Strawberry blond? Tats? Drives a Jeep? Ring any bells?" she said, jogging your memory. "He came knocking at two in the morning, carrying you in his arms. I mean he was hot according to Satoru, but do you even know the guy?"

“Cherry blossom,” you absently corrected the color Ieiri mentioned.

“Huh?”

“Him, I remember.” You smiled at the thought, not hiding your delight from them. You were sure they were just annoyed that they weren't in on the action since Satoru, your other friend and roommate, who seem nonexistent recently, was the one who interacted with the man you met and supposedly brought you back to the house you rented with all of them. And Satoru doesn't know basic decorum to actually ask what the man’s name was. "Howard."

"Howard?" Suguru, another one of your friends who was in the literature department as you were, asked. "Howard Roark?" He knew the reference, obviously. You forced him to read the book before it even became one of your study materials.

You nodded enthusiastically. "He's an architect."

"He didn't look like a 'Howard,' apparently," Ieiri said.

"That name is from her favorite book," Suguru supplied, his dark eyes shifting to you as he tucked some stray strands of his long, raven locks which were currently tied in a half-up. "So your guy's an architect, too."

"That, but he isn't 'my guy' and I don't know what his name is."

He grinned then. "If you're openly calling him by the name of the character you claim to be in love with, I'm assuming..."

"No!" Ieiri gasped.

You laughed despite the action making your head hurt. You were still hungover after all, but you didn't mind, not when you knew you had a good night. Probably a great night to allow yourself to be hammered like you have been. You only ever drank to your fill when the company is great and when you were in a jovial mood.

"It's nothing like that. He just feels like spring time. Looks like it, too." You waved your hands in front of you for emphasis. Still, your expressions said otherwise.

You weren't in love with the man because you didn't believe in mushy things like love at first sight, but you knew you liked him, just that you weren't getting your hopes up cause there's a chance you might not see him ever again, assuming your meeting was something transient like the blossoms his hair made you think of. Even if he was a regular at Maki's, if your schedules didn't coincide with one another, it would not be easy to meet. You've been coming to the same bar for years and yet, you've only ever seen him that time. You never really know.

But then, you got your answer pretty quickly.

From: Satoru

See you at 7 tomorrow night. Same place.

That’s how Satoru's message read, sent late the previous night. You almost forgot about the agreement you’ve had with him to get unlimited barbecue after sleeping the rest of the day but you made it out just in time. It was something you did with all three of your friends as a way to bond with them individually.

You glanced at the clock on your phone, feeling the stares of the restaurant staff on you. Well, you’ve been there for more than an hour waiting for him. One hour and thirteen minutes to be precise. All you’ve ordered so far was a glass of lemonade and you were able to finish that in the first half hour, sitting on a table for two when evidently, you were alone. All your texts were ignored and your calls were always being redirected to voicemail.

“Where the fuck are you, Gojo Satoru?” you asked him in one of your messages, hissing low into your phone just so the other diners would not be offended by your words. You got a message another twenty minutes later, the sound of your phone almost making you jump from your seat. However, when you looked at it, it was from an unknown number.

You were about to check the message when one of the waitresses came to your table, pad and pen on the ready. She’s always the one who served you whenever you and your friends would go there for a dose of beef and pork fat, and she has always been nice to you.

“Not to be nosy but I think your friend isn’t coming.”

You nodded, grimacing. “Tell me about it.”

“The boss has been giving you the stink eye, too.”

Looking over the counter, you saw the elderly man really looking at you. He looked away when you met his eyes, muttering to himself. You knew how the owner could get, but you simply loved going there since their food is good and the service is just the same. You smiled ruefully at the woman before you. “I’ll have a sukiyaki set and warm sake, please. Thank you.”

“Would that be all?”

“Yeah.”

“Coming right up.” She flashed you a bright smile before disappearing into the back rooms.

You almost forgot the message you saw earlier, but then, your phone lit up again with that familiar tone. The new message was from the same number.

From: Unknown

How are you?

From: Unknown

I hope you’re okay.

You frowned, not having the slightest clue as to who could be texting you.

From: You

Who is this?

Your order came but there was no response from the mystery texter or Satoru. You felt pathetic looking at your phone every once in a while as you ate and drank. Normally, you wouldn’t even have given anybody, including your best friends, the time of the day, making you wait for longer than an hour without as much as a message. You don’t ever wait for people over the agreed meeting time. You hated it with passion. And you were already thinking of ways to make Satoru pay.

You were about to eat a mouthful of beef when you heard the chair across you being dragged back. Your eyes flicked to the direction, and to your utter shock, you almost dropped your chopsticks if it weren’t for the hand that reached out and held onto your hand, securing the utensils.

Once again, you were sitting on your usual spot at the bar, eyes clashing with those intense ones owned by the pink-haired guy who apparently drove a charcoal grey Jeep and reminded you of spring, the same one who drove you home the other night.

“Careful,” he said, his scent assaulting your senses.

A lump formed in your throat, making you unable to form proper words, so you settled for putting down the chopsticks. You folded your hands together on your lap, recovering from your consternation before you finally looked at him, unable to help it but grin. He looked different that day, more laid back in a white baseball cap mussing his candy-floss hair down, a loose-fitting shirt in the same hue and jeans. He looked so fresh, you felt the air around you cool down considerably.

“How did you…” you hesitated and shook you head. “Hello.”

He broke into that crooked smile. “Crazy how the moment you sent the message, I saw you through the glass walls while I drove past.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again, not quite knowing how to react to it when suddenly, the first part of his statement registered in your mind. “Wait, message?” You picked up your phone, showing him the messages. “This is you?”

He nodded slowly. “Looks like you’re doing great.” He regarded the bottle of sake on the table. “I had to get your number to check up on you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Y-yeah, I mean, no, not at all. Thank you by the way.” You chuckled, saving his number and naming him Spring God in your contacts. “I wasn’t really expecting you to bring me home.”

“I got your address from your driving license.” He grinned then. “I thought of taking you back to my place, but I didn’t know how that would sit with you.”

Who says chivalry was dead? “I’m sorry for acting crazy, if I did anyway." You chuckled. "I don't remember…and for having to bring me all the way to the house.”

“It’s fine. It was lovely meeting Satoru.”

At that, your face flushed red. You winced. “I’m sorry for whatever he did while I was out of it.” He could be crazy at times, and you wouldn't be surprised if he did something untoward.

He shook his head, letting out a slight chuckle. “He was very nice to me, don’t worry.” He furrowed his brows then. “I also got your name. Y/N. I don’t know if you forgot to tell me or you just didn’t trust me enough, but I’d like to think it’s the former since you didn’t seem to think twice about getting wasted with me like you did.”

You deliberately didn’t tell him your name, but he was making it sound a little nicer. It wasn’t really something you planned on doing again, meeting him, but somehow, he found you. You shook you head, coming clean. “If you put it that way, okay, but really, I thought it was better if you didn’t know.”

“Hmm. Why is that?”

You found it endearing that he tilted his head a bit to the side when he asked the question. Your lips curled upwards at the corner. “I just never thought I’d meet you again.”

“That would be unfortunate.”

You laughed awkwardly at his remark. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way.”

“I’m not offended.”

“Okay.”

You requested for another order of barbecue for him. He declined but you insisted. “Come on. My treat for your act of kindness.” You snickered. “Besides, my supposed date bailed.”

“Date?”

Sighing, you said, “Well, not really. Satoru. We agreed to meet here over an hour ago but he hasn’t been answering my messages or calls. Something probably came up.”

He eyed you thoughtfully. “If you don't mind me asking, is he your...?"

"My what?"

"Your boyfriend…maybe."

You chuckled at the thought, but then you realized you didn't even know his name. "I don't really tell strangers about things like that," you teased.

“Okay, but I thought we’re past being strangers.” He smirked then and you swore you felt your stomach flip.

“We’re in the getting-to-know-each-other phase,” you told him with a laugh, acceding. "Since I didn't tell you my name, I didn't expect you to tell me yours. Plus I didn't ask, so may I have yours?"

"Sukuna," he said. "Ryomen Sukuna."

"Su-ku-na," you repeated, liking the feel of the syllables as they rolled out of your tongue. Finally, the person you've gotten so fond of in just a short time had a name. You didn't know what his name meant but it seemed to match him well regardless of how arbitrary it was to his person. You couldn't think of any better name though. "I like your name. It's pretty." You smiled brightly at him then. "And no, Satoru is not my boyfriend."

Ryomen Sukuna was an absolute puzzle to you. How he could look so badass and pretty much intimidating with his strapping physique and inked skin – throw in the multiple piercings on his left ear which you were noticing or the first time – while also pulling off all these adorable little actuations was a quandary to you. Tall, solidly built men like him should not be reminding you of soft, cute things, but the moment he blinked in confusion, you knew you couldn't get enough of it.

"Nobody ever said that about my name, but thanks," he returned in that deep voice after a moment's pause. And was that a dusting of roses over his cheeks? The surprises you were getting from this man was endless. He really was such a breath of fresh air, so far from the usual stereotypes.

Your face seemed to be perpetually pulled into a smile whenever you were around him, and you didn't think you were doing a good job suppressing the urge to be beaming like an idiot around him. "So, anyway, what made you think that blue-eyed idiot is my boyfriend?" you asked, changing the topic.

"Well, he was a bit hostile at first when he took you from me, making me explain things but then started apologizing after. He told me you could be a handful when inebriated..." He let his voice trail off as if letting you chew on his words.

"You agree with him." It wasn't a question.

"Yes." Sukuna pretended to frown. "He also calls you 'his princess'."

You threw your head back, covering your eyes momentarily in embarrassment. "Now I wish you met Ieiri and Suguru instead," proceeding to explain that the nickname was something akin to what a father would call his precious daughter.

"He was rather intimidating, but I guess he's just looking out for you."

"He's still not off the hook for standing me up," you quipped, "But you finding him intimidating is funny."

"Why?"

You scoffed, gesturing over to him. "I think you can snap him in two if you wished, too."

"He was scary," Sukuna insisted.

"He's harmless...most of the time, but yeah, he’s rather protective. That’s one of my dads for you."

He laughed then. "There's nothing scarier than a fiercely protective friend…or a doting father. I can't muscle my way out of that for sure."

"Ah, then you'll find Ieiri scarier."

The night pretty much went well and ended on a good note. Sukuna did most of the talking for the rest of the night. You learned he was six years older than you at twenty nine, one of the head architects at the firm he worked for, has a love-hate relationship with his job cause he wants to draw portraits instead, was a delinquent when he was younger but got away with things cause he was a straight-A student, loved dogs so much that he cries when they die in movies, was closer to his mom, got his tattoos on a sudden whim, and was pretty much a sweet, charming genuine person which contrasted his appearance. What you see isn't what you get. That just isn't how it worked with him.

You loved it when he talked. It was rather entertaining as he had a way of telling stories which made you feel like you were actually there when it happened. Eventually, you forgot the reason why you were at the restaurant in the first place. It was as if you went there for the purpose of meeting Sukuna himself. Satoru was all but forgotten as you dissolved into carefree laughter and playful banters, and you felt at ease and more like yourself around him, pretty much like when you were with your three favorite people in the world.

“It’s not really that funny,” Sukuna told you, watching you laugh heartily at that one episode in his freshmen year when he made a mistake of going on a date with the wrong girl who happened to have the same name as his supposed date. You continued to laugh as if he didn’t say anything.

“It’s just crazy that both of them were there at the same time. I mean, what were the odds?”

He parked by the sidewalk in front of your house, killing the engine. “That’s the reason why I have never agreed to a single blind date ever again.” He pulled the key out of the ignition, glancing at the direction of your house. “We’re here.”

Your laughter died down when you followed the direction of his gaze. The lights were off except for the one lighting up the porch of the house you shared with your friends. You returned your gaze to him then. “Thanks for driving me home. Again.”

“I enjoyed your company. It’s the least I can do.”

You smiled warmly at him, reaching over to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek when he suddenly turned his head a fraction towards you. That minute change made your lips end up against his instead. He was surprised at first and remained immobile against you, but when you pulled away, he chased you back, connecting your mouths, his lips feeling soft and warm yet emitting that air of dominance as it coaxed yours to move in sync with his. You were kissing him back in no time, but you immediately caught yourself and withdrew, utterly flustered.

Your heart thudded heavily as he held you in his intense gaze, his tongue slowly running over his lower lip, making you even more mentally incapacitated. It made you want to just pull him back to you and covet those lips with yours again. You snapped out of it though. You already knew he was capable of hot-wiring and hijacking your brain.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you told him when you were able to form words again.

Sukuna looked at you from under his lashes, smiling slightly. “I’m not.”

Taken aback, you chuckled nervously. “No?”

He shook his head, reached over and ruffled your hair a bit. “Go inside. It’s late.” You nodded and disembarked from the car while he leaned on the steering wheel, watching you. You were already on the pavement, about to close the door, when he spoke again. “Can I come see you again?”

“Sure,” you said without thinking. “Good night, Sukuna.” Man, you just loved saying his name.

“Bye, Y/N. Good night.”

He drove away while you made your way towards your doorstep. Your fingers flew to your lips once you were standing on your porch, smiling to yourself at the realization of having kissed him. Shaking your head, you fished for the keys from your pocket and entered the house, not quite remembering how you got to your room, but you slept that night with pleasant dreams of running your fingers through pink locks of hair.

***

"I'm really sorry. Something came up and my phone died."

You acceded. It wasn’t as if Satoru did something so big. You went to the outdoor kiosks near the parking lot by the football grounds to catch up on some reading while Satoru ate and told you bits of his past few days, since he got held up at their family estate. Having such a traditional, high-ranking family in the country sure had its downsides, and you weren't about to make him even more agitated than he already was. He had it difficult, you knew that, and you weren’t about to be petty over him not coming to your supposed bonding time. He may be happy-go-lucky but you felt tension simmering just under the surface when you squeezed his hand in assurance.

Suguru and Ieiri followed shortly after Satoru fetched you from class, also surprised to see him there. "So, you finally decided to show up," the former said.

"Don't ask," Satoru said.

"Wasn't planning to," Suguru scoffed, his attention shifting to you. “What are you working on anyway?” he asked, flipping the file you were reading haphazardly to peer through the contents.

“I’m making an analysis report on ‘The Romantic Manifesto’.” you answered, looking up from the notes you were writing when your eyes suddenly strayed over his shoulder. You almost did a double-take, glancing at Suguru before returning your line of vision at the spot beyond where he sat.

“It’s due…” your voice trailed off when you realized just what, or rather who, you were looking at. You weren’t so sure whether what you were seeing was real or a mirage, a very familiar, specific and detailed one, but then, you figured it was the former when the person smirked and cocked his head to the side, beckoning you over to where he leaned against his grey Jeep as he raised a cup of what looked like cherry blossom tea.

Suguru arched a brow at you, looking behind him but not really noticing the object of your distraction. “Hey, you okay?”

Ieiri followed the direction of your gaze and nudged you when she saw who you were looking at. "Is that your Howard? Damn, girl. He’s sizzling."

You nodded, but at that same moment, you rose from the table without any explanation, your feet immediately leading you towards the outdoor carpark. When you were within earshot, you said, “What are you doing here?”

You stopped a few feet from him, glancing behind you to where the others had already turned their heads to follow the path you took, flashing you shit-eating grins. It wouldn’t surprise you anymore if they had pieced together who the person was before you. They claimed to be your ‘parents’ but acted like children at times.

“I brought you tea.” Sukuna walked towards you, standing so close that you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds as you inhaled his scent and took in his appearance, looking immaculate in a plain white shirt and faded jeans, but your brain only seemed to register those lips and the memory of how they felt against yours.

You shook your head, snapping out of your trance, mentally cursing at yourself. “Hi.” You exhaled loudly, trying hard not to smile like an idiot while you absently twirled your hair on your finger, suddenly seeing the world through a pinkish filter. "How do you keep finding me?"

Sukuna's smile dropped. “Did I come at an inconvenient time?” he asked gently, trying hard not to sound miffed, but he obviously was taken aback by your words.

“No.” You shook your head, placing a hand over your forehead. You finally smiled at him, letting out a choked snicker. “No, Sukuna. It’s good to see you. It’s just that I wasn’t expecting to see you here. And you didn't really tell me you were coming.”

He grinned at you then but he still appeared unsure, placing a hand behind his neck. “Right.”

You flashed him a helpless look. “Please don’t look at me like that. I’m just really surprised.”

“Hmm." He moved closer to you, wrapping your hand around the transparent disposable cup. His proximity was affecting you in ways you couldn't admit out loud. "Are you happy to see me, too?"

"Too? So, you're happy to see me?"

"Always."

That's it. You're done for. Trying to avoid his intense gaze and escaping his scrutiny, you glanced over your shoulder to find everyone on your table observing you blatantly. Satoru raised a thumb at you while Ieiri was giggling with Suguru.

"Are those your friends?" Sukuna commented, his minty breath fanning against the side of your face which made you turn a little too quickly to face him again only to be confronted by his face leaning towards yours, mere centimeters away.

“Y-yeah.” You leaned a bit backwards but he moved forward. “That they are.” You stepped backwards again, nearly faltering on your feet, but you immediately gained your balance when he grabbed you by the arm, steadying you.

"Are you alright?" Sukuna asked, looking at you with concern written all over his face which morphed into wonder when you said, "Yeah, you're just overwhelming."

"Huh?"

"I can't think properly when I'm around you," you stated casually, your expressions not giving anything away as per usual. You arched a brow at him when he did the same. "You hot-wire my brain."

"I know what you mean." He smirked despite his confusion. "Is that good or bad?"

You eyed him thoughtfully, biting on your lower lip. "Good for you, bad for me. You can probably tell me to eat dirt and I'd do it in a heartbeat."

He chuckled, looking at you tenderly. "You're too honest."

"To a fault," you agreed, "Suguru tells me all the time. Wanna meet them?"

He ruffled your hair. "Sure."

***

While you weren't exactly expecting to see Sukuna again after the night you met, he became of constant presence around you. You have gone out with him several times over the course of two months. He was a busy person and you also had your priorities, but he always makes you feel special whenever you two would be out and about, behaving like such a gentleman opening and closing doors for you, naturally shifting closer to traffic while you walked, bringing an extra jacket in case you felt cold or a larger umbrella so you don't get wet, bringing you your favorite tea whenever he could.

He picked you up from school for lunch twice, making the most of the hour, and one time, you brought him lunch at work when he suddenly canceled on you, saying he was swamped with work. He sounded really upset so you decided to go to him instead. You brought Suguru with you as a buffer, but Sukuna's colleagues still teased him. He was different in the office – gruff and strict which fitted him more – but he still beamed at you happily when you brought him food, not caring who saw.

Apart from the brief phone calls, you two never really texted. It wasn't really your thing and he didn't like it either, so it could go days on end without you saying anything to each other, but when you do get a chance to speak, it would always be like picking up on where you've left off. He has only ever sent you two messages. One to remind you to take good care of yourself because he was going to be away for a while and another one a week later asking if you wanted to go out with him that coming Friday night.

"Your timing's off," you told him over the phone. You really wanted to say yes, but, "Ieiri, the boys and I are going out that night. Gang tradition."

"Some other time then?"

"Sure."

You hung up after a few more exchanges of words, getting started on reading some notes when Ieiri entered the kitchen. "Was that Howard?"

"Yeah. He's inviting me to go out on Friday, but I already said yes to clubbing with you guys."

She grinned cheekily, wrapping an arm around you as she poked you on the cheek. At times, it feels like Satoru was rubbing off on her. "Are you sure you don't want to ditch us for the hot architect?"

"Hot architect –" You snickered. "Did you just say that?"

"I was supposed to say 'sugar daddy,' literally and figuratively. Sugar and his cotton candy hair. Get it?"

You narrowed your eyes at her, shaking your head. It was supposed to be amusing, but when Ieiri says it, it just sounds weird. "Can I read in peace now?"

She left you alone, but laughed at your expense.

Friday couldn't have rolled around fast enough and you headed out with your friends at the club owned by a friend of yours, prepared to party in a pair of tight-fitting jeans, a crop top and your hair hanging about in wavy layers. You were already expecting the place to be cramped as hell given the day of the week so much so that Suguru had to hold onto you tightly so as not to lose you when you entered until you found the area you had reserved for the night. It was for good measure too since the place was drenched in purple, blue and green laser lights which were disorienting at first. And so, your night began as such.

You were in the middle of dancing, only pausing when you had to down your nth shot for the night when your eyes suddenly strayed to the bar area at the elevated part of the club adjacent to the the leather seats. You looked away but returned your gaze towards said direction when you realized this very familiar guy was looking at you. He was watching you as you danced and let loose, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You craned your neck, looking back and thinking the guy looked a lot like Sukuna, but then he couldn’t be. He was engaged elsewhere, still you continued to ogle him until you were pretty sure it wasn’t the same person. But the longer you looked, the more it was being proven to you that it was him.

That lopsided smile drew itself across his lips, seeing as how you were doubting yourself about his identity. There was no mistaking that look on his face, the way his dark eyes seemed to sparkle whenever he smiled even if the action didn't belong there.

“Sukuna?” you mouthed his name and he nodded, motioning for you to come over with his head. It had been a solid ten days since you last saw him, and for some reason, your heart raced at the thought of seeing him there.

Without saying a word to the people you were with, you squeezed yourself through the crowd, your feet carrying to the upstairs bar, to Sukuna. It took you a while to traverse the space between you, and when you finally stood before him, all you could do was smile up at him, taking in the soft look about him as he regarded you which were at odds to those fiery eyes that had the capability to turn into bright orbs of light when he beamed down at you.

“Hello, Y/N. Once again, fate has brought you to me,” he said rather dramatically, a smirk drawing itself across his pretty mouth.

Laughter escaped your throat, unable to say anything when you realized that you actually missed him, missed looking at him. Unable to help it, you stood on your toes and reached out to touch his hair, the action surprising the both of you. He eyed you, his expressions that of a half-smile and a look of confusion while you retracted your hands as quickly as you felt his soft locks with your fingertips, wincing at the realization of what you were doing.

At that, he laughed heartily, stealing your hand and pressing it over the side of his head. “Go ahead. I don’t mind you touching me,” he told you, staring into your eyes that you felt like all the air in the room was gone.

You blinked at him, processing what he said and joined in his mirth. “You're here!” You shook your head when it dawned to you that you were stating the obvious. “I’m sorry. How are you, Sukuna?”

“Pink?” he offered and chuckled at his own joke which made your face heat up. “Kidding. I’m great. I missed you these past days. How are you?”

“You did?” You felt your insides melting at his statement, made worse when he nodded to confirm it. “I’m fine. Great. Where have you disappeared to anyway?”

He snickered a your question. “Madrid.”

Your jaw dropped. “As in Spain?”

He nodded. “Had to do something there.”

“Uh-huh.” His words were rather obscure, but you didn’t want to encroach on his private life.

“What are the odds that we’re at the same club?”

“The owner is a friend,” you answered, smiling awkwardly as you glanced at the direction of your friends on the dance floor. You saw all of them looking at you. Suguru winked at you, giving you the thumbs up, making you laugh at his silliness.

“The gang’s all here, I see.”

“What?” You faced Sukuna, finding him leaning close beside you against the metal balustrade. Just then, a waiter passed by holding a whole tray of shots, and before you could duck, he grabbed you by the waist so that you were leaning against him with no quantifiable space between your bodies. Your eyes widened in shock and you froze, your thoughts clouded by the familiar smell of rain in a bamboo forest during Maytime. “T-thanks…”

He hummed in response to your gratitude, but he didn’t let you go. “I didn’t know you enjoyed places like this, too.”

“Why is that?” you asked, feigning ignorance to how close you two were.

"I never pinned you for the party animal type. I kinda developed a fondness for that quiet, nerdy girl sitting at the corner of the pub."

"Not exactly. I prefer Maki's place to be honest but coming here once in a while doesn't hurt. Especially with those three." You frowned slightly at him then as you thought of something. “So, why didn’t you approach me?” You motioned towards the dancefloor. “I'm sure the three-headed monster won't mind if you joined us. You alone?”

“Yes, sweetheart, but aren't you supposed to be hanging out with them?" You grabbed his arm before he could refuse you and started leading him towards where the others were.

However, he had other plans in mind. Again, he hooked an arm around your waist until your back was leaning against him. You eyed him sideways, startled by his actions, but unable to counteract it anyway as you’re just stunned speechless all the while. “You can go back to them, Y/N, but I don’t think I should go with you.”

You turned around, gently easing away from his hold. “Why not? They already know you, and they like you.”

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a party pooper.” He leaned towards you, tilting his head to the side while his lower lip slightly jutted out.

"What are you talking about?” You rolled your eyes at him then snickered.

He eyed you seriously then. “Just in case this is a friends-only affair?”

“Satoru already ruined that by bringing his girls into the mix.” You laughed at him when you saw him hesitate. “Come on, Sukuna. Join us. For me?” You showed him your best impression of puppy-dog eyes. “Pretty please?”

When you saw that he wasn’t budging, you changed your argument. “Fine. Dance with me then.” You didn’t give him any time to contradict you as you took him by the hand and dragged him to the dancefloor.

He was just standing still, looking uncomfortable as you started to groove to the beat, so you took his arms and started moving them until he was moving on his own, finally breaking into that smile. He looked too awkward that you wanted to laugh but decided against it, simply raising your hands and feeling the music.

“Aren’t you having fun?” you asked him as you were bobbing your head to the bass.

“I am!” he answered above the music.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun. Are you shy?” You chuckled openly at that.

“No.”

“You don’t dance?”

“I can dance.”

You giggled. “Then show me what you’ve got!”

Without a warning, he started moving in sync with you, taking your hands in his and finally letting loose in such a graceful manner as you both got into the beat and started waving and swaying against one another, his hands slowly running at your sides in sensual rhythms that got you reeling in excitement. You almost forgot that you were with other people as you danced with him. It was fun and it felt good to be that carefree, not minding your friends, drinks flowing in nonstop.

Soon, the group you’ve left joined you and Sukuna. They all greeted him excitedly while the boys exchanged high-fives with him as they were dancing. Satoru and the two girls who were with him also joined in and somewhere along that, Suguru offered everyone cigarettes, and you gladly took one when you saw Sukuna taking one as well. You didn’t really smoke on a regular basis but you didn’t exactly shy away from the so-called cancer sticks.

After taking another shot, you pulled Sukuna out of the dancefloor, hollering at the others as you raised your cigarette, signaling where you were going in case they wanted to come with. You made your way to the smoking area at the veranda situated at the back of the building with the older male in tow. You were pretty much buzzed, calming down from the high you had while dancing, grinning wide as the cool night air met you, making your lungs expand as you breathed in.

Sukuna watched you as he took his place against the banister, following him shortly as you produced a lighter from your pocket, something that you always carried just in case.

“You smoke?” he asked, toying with his own battered stick, twirling it around his long fingers.

“Sometimes,” you admitted, watching his reaction. “And you?”

“Not really.”

“You took one anyway.” You wedged the item in question between your lips and raised the lighter, but before you could light it, it was pulled out from your mouth and the next thing you knew, Sukuna was kissing you, his lips pressed against yours as he pulled you closer by the hips which he seemed to have a fixation for since you came up to him. It was a soft yet urgent kiss that cajoled you to respond, and not long after, your lips were submissive clouds moving to the will of the wind that was his luscious mouth.

Like the first time you felt his lips against yours, electricity ran through your body as if he was touching you elsewhere apart from your mouth. It was driving you off the edge of sanity, and you knew you’d probably jump off a cliff for the male. He grinned at your dazed state when your eyes met after he finally pulled away, showing you the cigarette that was supposed to be between your lips before he unceremoniously laid claim to them.

“You’re going to ruin your lips by smoking. I’m keeping this,” he told you.

You were too mesmerized with the tingling feeling in your mouth while your eyes stayed glued to his as you blinked slowly, your mind and heart racing at a thousand miles per second. “W-why would you do that?” you stammered, feeling your throat go so dry that you had to drag the words out.

“Apart from the fact that it’s terribly unhealthy, it ruins your sense of smell and taste.” He waved the cigarette in front of you before shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. “Scientific fact.”

You couldn’t quite process what he was saying. You were asking why he kissed you, but he misunderstood. “Are you going to taser me with your lips every single time I’m about to smoke?”

“Taser…” He chuckled and narrowed his eyes at you. “I might just if it means these dangerous things don’t touch your pretty mouth.”

“What the –” You didn’t know if you would be scandalized by what he said or if you were going to laugh. The latter won and you tittered. “That’s a good one.”

“I mean it, Y/N.”

Boldness engulfed your whole thought process as you stepped closer to him, looking straight into his eyes. “And if I insist on it? Placing dangerous things in my pretty mouth? What are you going to do then?”

He, too, leaned forward, eyes flicking to your lips. “Then I guess I just have to keep your mouth too busy to even think about smoking again,” he whispered to you, his breath hitting your lips.

You smirked at him then. “I guess I just have to make sure you aren’t around if I do feel like smoking.”

He pouted. You burst out laughing.

You reached over and pinched both of his cheeks. “You’re so adorable.”

Sukuna swatted your hands away, but smiled nonetheless. "You're the only one who says I'm adorable."

"You are. You just don't know it."

“Okay then. If you say so.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear then, your skin tingling where he touched you. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Not really.”

“Good. I wanna do something for you.”

You eyed him questioningly. “Hmm. What?”

“That’s a surprise.”

It was already around two in the morning when everyone had the unanimous decision to leave the club which was still packed. You, too, were getting tired especially after Ieiri ended up hammered and Satoru was emptying his guts through his mouth. Suguru was a bit drunk, too, but he was trying his best to help you take care of them. Sukuna had been very nice all night, even helping you load Satoru and Ieiri into the backseat of Suguru’s car.

“Would you like me to drive you home?” he asked you after shutting the door to the backseat.

“No, I’m gonna be fine. Besides, I can’t just leave Suguru to deal with them both.” You motioned to his Jeep. “You should go ahead, too.”

Sukuna grimaced as he nodded. “I guess that would be for the best. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. You take good care now.”

“You, too, sweetheart.” He stepped forward and pulled you against him, hugging you, enveloping you in his warmth and that scent you loved profusely. “It’s really great seeing you tonight.”

You returned the gesture, smiling up at him as you tried to compose yourself. “It’s great seeing you, too.” You stood on your toes and pecked him on the cheek before giving him a gentle shove towards the car. “See you, Sukuna.”

He waved at you then boarded the car. You watched as it disappeared down the street before turning away to enter the club to get Suguru who was left to settle the bills. You found him seated on one of the couches, finding your way easily since the crowd thinned a bit.

“You okay, dude?” you asked when you reached him. He was pale and he looked like he was going to throw up anytime. “Do you need to go to the restroom?”

He shook his head. “Just get me out of here.”

You chuckled, leading him faster out of the club. You sat him down on passenger side and soothed his back, asking after him again as you started the engine. He said he was fine, laughing when he caught a glimpse of the two who were already passed out on the backseat with Satoru lying on Ieiri’s lap while her head was lolling limply to the side.

The drive was rather short without much cars on the road, but Suguru was still able to squeeze in a conversation, and of all the topics he could broach, it had to be about Sukuna.

“I thought Sukuna will be driving you home,” he began, glancing at you.

“He offered, but I can’t just leave you.”

“That would have been okay.” He glanced at the rearview mirror then, checking on the two, you could only guess. He could be such a mother hen at times. “I think he’s cool.”

“Mhmm.”

“And he’s really good-looking,” Suguru threw in with a chuckle. “Just date already.”

You chuckled. “Why don’t you date him instead?”

“Don’t you want to try it out with him?”

“He hasn’t even asked me to date him.”

“Yeah, but he already kissed you –”

“How did you know about that?” you demanded, mortified. Your cheeks were heating up again at the memory of it.

“Well, you’re in a public place.” He laughed. “So, it’s bound to end in dating anyway.”

“Not necessarily.” You turned sideways to look at him. “He’s older after all, not that I see the age gap as a problem. But you know, he might just be passing time.”

“He obviously likes you. If you date him, it’s a win-win situation. You like him, too, you just don’t know it.”

You scoffed. “How can you say that?”

He blew a raspberry. Typical Suguru behavior. “You can be yourself around him. You’re all smiley face around him, too. I saw you. You can’t lie to me.”

“Really now?”

“Yeah. You look your best that way. And don’t ever think you are just a pastime. I’ll kill him if he treats you as such.” He smiled knowingly at you. “Besides, you should date properly. Enough with your flings with stupid boys in campus.”

“Okay, dad.” You sighed, trying to contain your excitement. “I do like him though. He’s so nice to me.”

Suguru reached over patting you on the shoulder. “Ah! My daughter is a grown-woman.”

You swatted at his hand, laughing at his antics.

-end of part 1-

If you're curious who Howard Roark is, he's one of my fave literary characters from Ayn Rand's "The Fountainhead." He's excellently made. That's it.

Can architect!sukuna please call me "sweetheart," too?

If you want to be included in the tag list, please DM me :) I'll be posting every week (or I'll try to anyway). Someone remind me to post the next chapters please?

Additional notes are available in the masterlist, particularly on the reasons why I wrote some things the way I did. I don't know what I'm trying to prove there, but haha!

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210618]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES FULLY CREDITED TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.