#are we on the same frequency. do you understand

[sugxto]

shared frequency - eddie x volt

⋆syn: The morning after the reset, Volt and Eddie have a conversation about your new dynamic.

⋆wc: 2.2k

⋆cw: m/m blowjobs, cum eating/swallowing, another where they’re kinda fantasizing about you while they fuck

⋆notes: takes place the morning after “brutalizer(s)” within power dynamics, but can be read as a standalone “they fucked after the reset” independent one shot. the person eddie and volt are discussing is completely gender neutral. they're referred to as "human," with they/them pronouns, and no descriptions of genitalia or features. e/v masterlist.

⋆snippet:

Eddie has to be sure. “I’d never do anything that could ever mean losing you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Eddie.” Volt’s touch is warm again, and it floods through Eddie’s circuits like a whiskey sour. “I’ve only ever known how to love you.”

Sometime, in the early morning hours, the human had slipped away from Volt and Eddie’s bed, had given them kisses on their cheeks and said they had to go, they had to make sure something had enough charge, but they’d be back soon, they promised.

It was the norm for Volt and Eddie to wake up beside each other, and never, in their years sharing existence, had either of them woken up feeling lonely - until this morning, when the feeling of only one body in his bed makes Eddie feel… off.

He shoves the thought aside, though, when Volt’s lips find his ear, and the ends of his hair spark by his ear.

“Good morning, my darling.”

Eddie fucking loves Volt’s morning voice - but hey, keep that a secret.

He hums as he rolls over, finds Volt already propped up on his elbow, leaning over him. Eddie knows that look in his eyes, that sparkle, and he cocks an eyebrow. “Someone looks happy.”

Volt smiles, runs his fingers along Eddie’s arm. “Well, we had a good night, didn’t we?”

Yeah, Eddie thinks, after Volt almost fucking died.

But instead, he says, “I remember.”

“I told you they wanted us.”

He sighs. Maybe if he closes his eyes again, sleep will come, very very fast. “You did.”

“And wasn’t it exactly what we’d hoped for?” 

The downside of your partner being electricity incarnate, Eddie thinks, is that he’s always switched to on. Which wasn’t always Eddie’s favorite mode in the mornings, especially not after last night.

“It was,” he grumbles.

“We said we loved them.”

“I -” he pauses, because yeah, he can’t deny that. But they had said it first, and it seemed… right, in the moment. “Yeah, fine, we did.”

Volt’s twinkling eyes rake over his face. “Did we mean it?” As he says it, his hand comes to find Eddie’s resting on his chest, and with the touch comes a wave, a surge of indescribable warmth that flows between them, connects them not just through skin, but through their very hearts.  

They’re both quiet for a moment, only breathing together, but they know. They know that when they touch, their emotions become theirs, no longer separate, like they see things through each other’s eyes. 

And this warmth…

They both know what it means. It’s the same certainty they feel when they’re here, in their bed, sharing kisses and touches and breath and thoughts.

And it must be love.

Eddie feels it in Volt’s touch, in the current he shared, but he also knows that he feels it inside himself, that he reciprocates this certainly that Volt is sharing with him. 

They know they don’t have to say anything, their eyes never leaving each other, understanding without words, without complications. But still, Eddie says, with the smallest smile on his lips and voice barely above a whisper, “I guess we did, didn’t we?”

He cups Volt’s face when he leans down to kiss him, and Volt’s hand on his chest climbs up, up, to tangle itself in Eddie’s hair. Eddie welcomes his little breaths, deepening the kiss and pressing his tongue inside his mouth, and it’s like he recharges at the sounds of the moan Volt makes. 

When they part, it’s only enough for Volt to speak, his lips still ghosting over Eddie’s as he does. “Are you alright with that?”

Eddie’s grey eyes search white ones, and he sighs softly. “I… yes. I am. But I just…” he swallows, feels his heart thrum with excitement, contentment, want, “I can’t quite believe it.”

Volt strokes the top of Eddie’s head with his thumb, tugs slightly on his hair, and he pecks another kiss to his lips. “I can’t either, my darling.”

“I didn’t plan it.”

“I know we didn’t.”

He holds Volt’s face a little tighter, and knows his voice gets a little faster. “And this isn’t - fuck, Volt, it’s always been you -”

“And it’s always been you, Eddie -”

“You know it’s - that it’s not because -”

“I do, Eddie,” Volt says, warmly, lovingly, as his hand slips down to Eddie’s cheek. “My darling, you have nothing to worry about. We have nothing to worry about. I know I’m… protective of you.” He says it with a smirk that, in another conversation, may make Eddie roll his eyes. “But I owe you everything, and I am yours, just like you’re mine. And the human doesn’t want you, or me - they want us. Only us, and isn’t that what we’ve always wanted? To not have to be apart?”

He’s right, Eddie thinks, he usually is, the bastard. And it sparks something in Eddie’s heart that feels like he’s at full power, able to conquer anything, and it feels complete. Because he couldn’t, wouldn’t, be away from Volt. He’d let himself deplete and die before he was alone again, and the human… 

They’d seen that. Not only that, but they’d helped ensure that wouldn’t happen. Showed that they would do everything they could to save both of them. 

So how could Volt and Eddie do anything but love them? 

But still, Eddie has to be sure. “I’d never do anything that could ever mean losing you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Eddie.” Volt’s touch is warm again, and it floods through Eddie’s circuits like a whiskey sour. “I’ve only ever known how to love you.”

Grey eyes flick to soft lips, back up to white eyes, and Eddie can only nod, only hold Volt’s buzzing skin tighter in his hands, because he’s never been good at saying it, but everyday, he knows Volt feels it. And in response, Volt kisses him again, sweet, lush kisses that are better than words, and their arms are around each other, chests pressed together. 

Volt’s lips move to Eddie’s jaw, his neck, his shoulder, as Eddie’s hands find his hair, controlling the bolts with practiced touch. Between kisses on Eddie’s skin, Volt says, his smirk audible, “And it makes it easy that they’re a fantastic fuck.”

Eddie groans, and his cock makes a twitch at the memory, how hot, how wet, how needy they’d been. How they felt like they’d been made to fit around their cocks. All the gorgeous, filthy sounds they’d made, because Volt was right, and he needed to hear them again. 

“Next time,” Volt teases, his tongue on his neck, and Eddie gasps when he grinds their hips together, “you have to taste them for yourself. Tell me,” another roll of his hips, another twitch of their cocks, “how was their mouth?”

Eddie tightens his hands on Volt’s hair, relishes the resulting moan, and his voice is raw when he says, “It was fucking perfect.”

He feels Volt’s chuckle in his neck, feels his cock grow against his own. “Mm. Is that so? Am I going to have some competition?”

Eddie turns his head to press his lips close to Volt’s ear, holds him still, waiting, before he responds. “You wanna give me something to compare it to?”

Faster than light, Volt is between his legs, stomach on the bed and firey, bright white eyes staring up at him, excited, hungry.

Eddie settles himself further up the bed, leans against the pillows, props himself on his elbows for the best view, but he breathes out a curse when, without warning, his cock is swallowed up by Volt’s warm, greedy mouth. He nearly loses his balance when he hits the back of his throat, and Volt makes a hum of satisfaction that vibrates around him. 

God, he feels so fucking good, hot and wet and right - like home, like all he’s ever wanted, all he only ever hoped for in the nights he spent alone. 

He feels Volt’s tongue expertly twist around him, follow the veins of his cock like it’s in his nature, and Eddie’s eyes flutter closed when he leans his head back, letting this warmth consume him.

Volt digs his fingers into the flesh of his thighs, and their currents hum together where they touch. His lips wrap around the head before his tongue trails down the shaft, wetting Eddie more with his spit. His breath is hot, electric, when he purrs, “Imagine if they were here too, sitting on your mouth while I took my time with you.”

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, seeing the image so clearly in his mind, reminiscing on the taste of them that he’d found in Volt’s mouth. “You, fuck, baby, just wanna show off for them.”

“Hmm, maybe I do.” Volt wraps his hand around him, strokes him up, down, and kisses the head. “Show them how good I can make you feel.”

Eddie, through heavy lidded eyes, finds Volt’s hair again, wraps it around his fist, and yanks, Volt’s resulting gasp making him smirk. “You wanna be good?”

Volt nods, limited in his movement, sparks dancing in his wide eyes. 

“Then don’t take your fucking mouth off me again.” He bucks his hips up as he pulls Volt’s lips back to his cock, and they open, effortlessly, and Volt takes. 

He takes Eddie entirely, takes his moans, his tight hold on his hair, all the way to the back of his throat, and swallows, and he glows at the sound Eddie makes - guttural and low, dripping with want. He preens at the “good boy, you feel so fucking good, baby” that fall from Eddie’s lips, and he ruts his hips, his aching cock, into the mattress beneath him. 

Through the haze of his pleasure, Eddie notices (he always notices, Volt thinks), and he hums. “Fucks sake, you can’t get enough, can you?” His voice is wry, and it goes straight to Volt’s cock. “My cock in your mouth and still needing more?”

Volt whines around him, his hips bucking into the bed again, because yes, yes, he needed more, and Eddie knows it, knows how it makes him feel when he pulls at his hair again.

“What - fuuck - what did you say, in the office? You want me inside you w- god - while they ride you?” Eddie’s voice is mean, with just enough bite that he knows shorts the circuits in Volt’s brain. “You, you think that’d finally fucking satisfy you?”

Volt’s eyes are pleading as he grinds into the sheets, his mouth working Eddie’s cock so fast, so well, that the resulting sounds are slick, sinful, coupled by the groan of the mattress beneath Volt’s hips. His fingers singe Eddie’s skin from the death grip he’s keeping on his thighs, trying to take as much as he’s physically allowed. 

Eddie’s chuckle is gruff as he adds a second hand to Volt’s hair, holding him still, and he thrusts his hips up into Volt’s hot throat, making his white eyes practically flicker. “I’m not sure it would. You’re so,” he thrusts again, “fucking,” again, “greedy.”

Yes, Volt thinks, able only to moan, to drool as Eddie fucks his mouth, give me everything, everything, Eddie.

“So you’re gonna take, fuck yes, what I give you, yeah? Gonna be good?” Eddie’s voice is hurried now, his breath labored, and Volt just knows he’s close. He hisses through his teeth, says, “Gonna fuck yourself while you take it?”

Volt hums around him, tries to tell him he can, he will, because yes, he’s so greedy, he needs it, wants it, and lets his jaw go as slack as he can while he ruts, hopelessly, into the friction of the sheets. It’s nothing compared to Eddie, any part of him - his mouth, his hands, his hole - but it’s something, and more than anything, he wants to be good for him. 

Eddie’s hips are losing stability, his thrusts erratic into Volt’s mouth, and he groans, tightens his hands around white hair - he’s so close, fuck he feels so good, and he opens his eyes, finds Volt’s gaze, and -

His climax hits him like lightning, a familiar white flash behind his eyes, and he curses through his teeth as his cum fills Volt’s mouth with small twitches from his cock. Volt’s hips are pounding into the bed, chasing exactly what Eddie told him to, and it’s the soft “that’s it, you did so good,” that Eddie whispers as he swallows, that pushes Volt over the edge as well. His hips shake, his cock sensitive, as he feels the slick of his cum pool on the sheets and stick to his stomach.

Ever greedy, ever proud, Volt savors the ache in his jaw when they finally separate, and he makes a show of licking his lips when Eddie finally releases his hair, his heart swelling with love at the resulting eye roll that he knew would come. 

They both sit up, limbs heavy, warm contentment in their veins, when Eddie says, in a tired voice with a curve to his lips, “Maybe having two of us to wear you out will do you good.”

Volt chuckles, and he notices his throat feeling a bit raw as he does it. “Never, darling. I’m always fully charged.”

Eddie huffs, steel eyes hiding a hint of amusement. “Don’t I fucking know it. But, ya know,” he shuffles his weight, comes to sit on his knees in front of Volt, and runs his finger down Volt’s chest until he finds the remnants of his climax stuck to his skin above white coils, meeting Volt’s gaze as he scoops some onto his fingertip, and brings it to his lips, “I think we can be up to the challenge.”

When he takes his finger out of his mouth, Volt’s lips find him, his tongue swiping into Eddie’s, hungry for him, for more, for everything, and they fall back to the ruined sheets, hands and tongues tangled around each other as tight as they can manage.

[winterarchives]

Blood, Sweat and Tears part ll

Soulmate AU pairing - OT7 x reader , BTS x reader word count - 8.9k+ summary - You are an up-and-coming author for M-Buzz, Manhattan, New York’s popular and new news source, set with the task of interviewing the globally famous band, BTS. You also have a bit of a glitch in your system. While everyone else has a set of initials and a birth date to signify who their soulmate is, you have a set of 14 letters and 21 numbers, something unheard of and rather stigmatized; and something that confuses you, that is, until you meet the men you’re interviewing. warnings - cussing , eventual smut , MDNI , early writing (literal years ago) pls go gentle on me P1 -

 “Twin flame?” Elle asks, clearly expecting an elaboration. You shrug at her, biting your bottom lip. She waits a minute before she speaks again, “Well, we’ve got to at least look into it.” 

“What? No. Why would we?” You argue, stopping her hand from reaching her phone on the bedside table. 

The two of you sat in your room in the penthouse, shoes off, face masks on, shitty soap opera playing at a small volume on the television that looked more like a theater screen. She hadn’t left your side since getting ‘home,’ wanting a complete rundown on the lunch you’d had with BTS. Your soulmates, you have to keep reminding yourself. 

“We have to at least see if anyone’s done any research on it,” Elle explains. “Two days ago, you didn’t know you had a soulmate, let alone seven! Now you’re telling me that your situation is even more complex than originally thought, because not only do you have soulmates, but you have a twin flame? Shit doesn’t get more confusing than that, Y/N.” She tells you, shoving your hand out of her way as if it were merely attached to a spaghetti noodle. 

“I get it,” you reply lamely. “I just don’t want to get more confused than I already am. This whole thing is sort of a shitshow.” 

Elle makes a sound akin to a hyena’s chortle, tapping her phone to life and keying ‘twin flame’ into the search engine. You try to remain patient while she wordlessly flits through whatever articles the internet has dredged up, but your efforts are fruitless. You’re still an anxious mess, nerves bubbling and threatening to spill over despite the focus you’re trying to aim on your breathing. The calming exercises you’d learned and acquired whilst reporting on a newly opened yoga/meditation spa in downtown Manhattan, of course, when you desperately needed them to do so.

“Ah, okay…” Elle breathes out, readjusting her legs on the mattress to where they’re dangling atop your lap, feet hanging over the edge of the bed. “All I’m seeing is that you’re pretty much more spiritually tethered to your twin flame. It’s almost like a soulmate double-whammy.” 

You furrow your brows, “I don’t get it.” 

“Nothing is saying you’ll have a more spectacular sex-life or anything with your twin flame,” you wince at her crass words, “it’s all pretty much saying that you have a deeper emotional tie or tether to them because your soul split into two during your creation. So, Suga’s soul was split into two when he was created, and the other half manifested itself in you; and likewise.” 

“And the others? Why would they be my soulmates if Yoongi and I have each other?” You question her. 

“Two halves don’t always make a whole, Y/N.” She explains. “The rest of the band are made up of the same frequency as you and Yoongi, but you two exist within each other. You are him, and he is you! It’s like ‘Serendipity!” 

“Uh, what?” You ask her, eyes blank as you try and understand what she’d just quoted.

“Ah, I forgot. You’re not quite ARMY...yet.” She smiles, eyes twinkling in the dim light of the bedroom, mischievously. “We’ll fix that before the concert tomorrow,” she tells you, grabbing the remote from the foot of the mattress and switching the smart TV to YouTube.

You weren’t about to object. She’d had the right idea. You’d definitely need to up your game and awareness of your soulmates' lives. 

“So,” she begins, typing ‘Serendipity’ into the search bar, “this is Jimin’s solo on their recent album, ‘Love Yourself: Answer.”

She clicks the first video, you read something about it being a full-length edition of the song, and you snuggle further into the fluffy comforter on your bed. 

There’s a sound that’s similar to someone inhaling deeply, and then Jimin’s voice floods the room. You silently thank the hotel for installing the surround sound speakers. 

Your heart constricts inside your chest, aching at the sensual tone in his singing and flipping at his more breathy notes. Elle stays silent next to you, thankfully, allowing you to take in the song in its entirety. Your reaction isn’t something you were quite expecting, given you’d heard their music before. 

This time, though, felt completely different. Whereas a few years ago, you’d just appreciated their album, this time you felt a remarkably visceral connection to everything Jimin was expressing and singing. 

His pain, his raw emotion, the light timbre of his voice. Him. It was as if we were baring his entire raw self to you on a platter. The angelic lilts of the melody and his soulful croons give you endless chills. Once the bridge hits, and he pleads for you to not leave, to stay with him and become one, you’re gone, tears cascading down your face. 

The piano plays as Jimin’s voice becomes scarcer. He calls out to you, his voice echoing his plea for you to let him love you, as the piano ends the ballad. 

You watch the screen, tears still falling, and take a strained breath. “That was…” You begin, but stop yourself. Could you possibly even begin to convey the emotion that song brought to you? You want to try, but you catch yourself falling short, as if your ability to speak had been ripped from your existence.

“I know.” She replies kindly, gripping the remote and clicking the next video she sees. 

A picture of Jin pops up, and you quickly catch the word ‘Epiphany.’ You’d heard of this one. A group of teens who lived in the townhouse across the street from you had listened to it before. You hadn’t paid it undeviating attention at the time, although it had sounded beautiful. You’d just chalked it up to a nice song and continued on your way to work. 

Like Jimin’s solo, though, this time listening feels personal. It feels real, and almost as though the music was actually speaking, or rather singing, to your very being. 

Jin serenades you, telling you his story of discovering self-love- of finding himself. His background vocals are just as beautiful as the main ones, intricately supporting the focal notes and accommodating the emotive meaning beyond them. Your tears still run, your eyes nearly bulging out of your head, when he hits the high notes at the end of the ballad. 

How you were supposedly deserving of these beautiful, gifted, kind and genuine men was completely fucking beyond you at this point. 

“You doing okay?” Elle asks, hovering a highlighted box on the screen over ‘Singularity.’ Tae’s name next to you gives you butterflies as your mind flickers through a few mental images you’d snapped during brunch, his bright brown eyes and boxy smile beyond charming. 

“Yeah,” you answer her, wiping your eyes, careful not to tear the face mask from your face. “Let’s take these off before they cement themselves to our skulls.” You tell her, peeling the charcoal mask off your soft skin. It hurts like a bitch, but thankfully the pain distracts you from the onslaught of raw emotion you’d endured mere minutes prior. 

“Alright,” Elle says, patting her face and feeling the smoothness of it. “Singularity. It’s a V classic, save for Stigma.” 

You giggle at her obvious fangirling, eyeing the screen as she hits ‘play.’ 

His voice seems to immediately seduce you, the sensual tones of the bass and his darkened tenor resonating in your chest and running hot and heavy through your stomach. You can hear each breath he takes, practically feel his lips parting so that the words can spill through them effortlessly. You can see him in your mind now, his eyes lidded, top teeth dragging against his bottom lip...

You were aware that Tae had a deeper voice and a more recognizable voice than most people. But holy shit. You weren’t quite aware of the magnitude of talent he harbored. It’s damn near sinister. The last note strums across the bass, and you release a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. 

“That man has a voice like chocolate,” Elle tells you, shaking her head approvingly. “Next, JHope himself.” 

The upbeat tempo suits him well, you note. You wouldn’t expect anything else from Hoseok. The man was a living, breathing, and dancing human version of the sun. He could make even the most upset person smile. That much you already knew, and you’d only known him for two days.

The bass settles a bit for the bridge, and then picks back up for a rerun of the chorus and the outro. It’s quite literally Hoseok as a song, and it makes your cheeks sore from the amount of smiling you’re doing. 

“RM!” Elle cheers, clicking the next video. “This is one of my favorites,” she tells you, bouncing on the bed.

“Okay, okay,” you tell her, giggling and motioning for her to settle down. 

Namjoon takes a second to start, but once he does, you’re blown away. The mix of rap and the jazzy instrumental is genius, and has you swaying to the beat, completely smitten with the tune. Namjoon definitely was an underrated rapper, just like Hoseok. You wished there was a way to have everyone on earth appreciate their talent, or rather, BTS’s talent as a whole. Yes, they were incredibly famous, and that fame was ever-growing, but you wanted everyone to see their talent, to understand how brilliant the seven men were. 

Namjoon continues to rap about being human, and lets an expletive leave his lips. You’re taken by not only the tune, the rap itself, or even the tempo, but the meaning beyond the song. It’s over far too soon, and has you pouting, but your gloomy disposition quickly shifts as you see that Jungkook’s single is loading. 

“This one, you’ve got to be a little familiar with,” Elle says, nudging you. 

You shrug to her, looking at Jungkook’s cute picture on the screen, as the music starts.

His voice is feathery light at the beginning, beautiful and effortless. The first english words he sings hit you like a drug, and you suck in a sharp breath. The lyrics are romantic, as all of the songs you’ve heard so far are. You sway, appreciating the flow of the instruments and Jungkook’s vibrant singing. His voice is crystal clear and very similar to Jimin’s, but at the same time, so different. Like Hoseok’s song, you smile during a massive duration of the song, sad and shocked at the abrupt end of it all. You’d been completely entranced by the song. 

“And the final solo,” Elle smiles, clicking on the next video. You look at the screen, feeling your smile nearly split your face in two as you take the picture in. 

Yoongi’s chocolate hair rests immaculately atop his forehead, his eyes locking onto yours from his position in the photograph. 

His voice sounds near-sleepy, causing a soothing sleepiness to rest on your consciousness. He raps about a relationship that had as many downs as ups, and then sings the chorus, and you can feel your heart ache at the lyrics. You didn’t know if Yoongi had truly gone through the heartache he sings about, but you’ve got your mind set on asking him about it. Especially knowing that he’d co-written it, Elle had informed you. 

You can hear the pain beyond the ending lyrics. Can feel the loneliness beyond them. You will yourself not to break down, confused by the surge of emotion that’s demanding to be heard and acknowledged. 

You thank Elle for showing you their solos, telling her that you’d see her in the morning. She listens, thankfully, leaving you alone in your master bedroom. As soon as she’s gone, you’re replaying the songs, finding an order to them that has you caught in a tidal wave of emotions. 

Just Dance, Love, Singularity, Euphoria, Epiphany, Serendipity, and Seesaw are put into a playlist on your Spotify and set to repeat. You listen, engaged in each word that passes their lips, soon echoing the choruses and rapping along with some of the others. 

Soon enough, you’re listening to Love Yourself: Answer, in its entirety. A few songs are completely blowing you away. Alone, the seven of them had remarkable voices, which was difficult in and of itself. But, together? There weren't any words. 

Their voices blended so effortlessly, melting into the others without issue. You could hardly believe that they were real. They seemed otherworldly. Godly. Ethereal, as you’d often hear people explain them. 

And they were yours? Fucking insane. You were a simple woman, not excessive, and not at all materialistic. You couldn’t, and probably would never be able to explain the insane nature that your life had become. Knowing that you weren’t alone, but had seven soulmates, one of which was also a twin flame of yours? That was bonkers, and something you hadn’t even dreamed of hoping for yourself… ever. 

You check your phone, smiling at the goodnight texts the boys have already sent you in the group chat. You send back a quick reply, turning your ringer off and settling further into the covers of your bed. Flicking through Hulu, you settle on a movie and let your eyes close, the darkness of the room, save for the television, settling over you and nudging you over the imaginary line between being awake and sleeping. 

You almost panic when your phone rings, waking you up, thinking maybe you’d overslept and missed out on the concert, but you calm down when you realize it’s still dark outside, and that Yoongi is the person calling. The screen of your phone tells you it’s just past 3 AM.

“Yoongi?” You ask once the phone rests against your ear, voice heavy from the sleep you’d just been roused from. “Is everything okay?”  

“Ah… yeah. Did I wake you?” He sounds about as exhausted as you feel, maybe even more so. 

“No,” you reassure him, “are you sure you’re okay, Yoongi? You sound tired.” 

“I am tired,” he tells you, voice kind, “I’ve been up all night writing a new single… I don’t even know why I called, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be! It’s a nice surprise.” You rush out, not wanting him to feel any guilt or remorse for calling you, out of all of the people he knew, in the middle of the night.

“Really? I just- I guess I wanted to hear your voice.” He admits, “That sounds emotional, doesn’t it?” 

You giggle, “Yeah, but it’s cute. Are you excited for the concert?” 

“Not as excited as Jungkook and Taehyung, but yeah. I’m excited.” He answers. “You’re going to be there, right?” 

You nod your head, and then realize he can’t see you. “Yeah,” you tell him, smiling at your hair-brained mistake. This is precisely why you weren’t a perfect morning person. 

“We got you and your co-writer backstage passes for before and after the show. We also managed to upgrade your seats. You’ll be front and center.” 

You’re shocked and at a loss for words, completely blown away by the kindness and compassion they were already showing you. 

“Wow…” you smile, “that’s great. Thank you so much!” 

“No need to thank any of us,” Yoongi chuckles, “you are our soulmate after all. We all look after each other. It’s an unspoken rule.” 

The sentiment is greatly appreciated, but you can’t help the lump that rises in your throat at his words. What could you offer them? You were just an up-and-coming writer from Manhattan. You had no reach, no unparalleled abilities that would truly help them.

“Y/N? Are you still there?” Yoongi asks, and you realize you’d not spoken for a while. 

“Yeah! I spaced out, I’m sorry,” you reply. “I appreciate you guys so much, Yoongi. I just feel bad because there’s not much I could offer or give you in return.” 

“Don’t be so ridiculous!” Yoongi huffs, “You existing is enough. We are all so thankful that you’ve been so understanding and respectful of our careers and everything so far. Plus, you’re writing an article about everything, right? Just tell everyone about how amazing we are and you’ll be fine.” He jokes.

“I will!” You laugh, “You guys are all incredible! I listened to Love Yourself Answer tonight, and it blew me away! The solos are so emotional and moving… And when you all sing and rap together? You are all brilliant.” You breathe out, smiling at the memory of the emotional album.

“Ah, shush…” Yoongi squeaks, and you can practically hear his blush through the phone. 

“If you say so,” you smile. “What time should we show up at the concert hall tomorrow?” You ask him.

He deliberates for a moment, his light breathing the only indication that he hasn’t hung up or disconnected. “Our show starts at 8,” he answers, “and we practice at 6… So, maybe around 4? We can have some food ready for you guys, and that way we can hang out a bit before we start running through the setlist.” 

“Sounds good to me,” you agree, “I’m excited to see you. To see all of you,” you smile, warm and fuzzy feelings bouncing around in your chest and stomach. 

“We’re excited to see you, too, Jagiya.” He whispers, “Get some sleep.” 

“Your wish is my command,” you answer him, heart fluttering at the small chuckle he emits. “Goodnight, Yoongi.” You murmur, exhaustion rearing its ugly head. 

“Goodnight, Y/N!” He chirps. 

Reluctantly, you click the disconnect symbol and set your phone back on the nightstand. You don’t even remember falling asleep, but you’re happy that your dreams are filled with images and music from your soulmates. Seven people you didn’t know you needed in your life, who now play a pivotal part in it.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“You do realize how expensive backstage passes are, right?” Elle gapes, watching as you tie your hair up into a messy bun. 

You were both getting ready to leave for the first concert of the tour, dressed to impress, and feeling as exuberant as you looked. Elle wore her skin-tight, washed-faded jeans and a purple long-sleeved halter top. Her hair was coiffed, eyelashes curled, and makeup smoky. You wore a lace, skin-tight jumpsuit, hair in a bun. Brown smoky eyeshadow accentuated by your matte red lip stain. 

The boys hadn’t texted you today, save for a “we can’t wait to see you later” from Jimin in the group chat. You couldn’t blame them, couldn’t even begin to imagine the stress the day would have on them. They’d be performing in only 5 hours. 

“I wasn’t going to ask Yoongi for a price,” you reply, guilt bubbling in your gut. “Besides, he told me not to worry about it, that I’m their soulmate, and it should be expected of them.” 

“I guess that makes sense.” She huffs, “You’re lucky.” 

“Oh, hush.” You quip, adjusting your chest to where your cleavage doesn’t seem so egregious. 

“Whatever,” Elle replies, sticking her tongue out at you when you side-eye her in the mirror of your bathroom. “You look damn good, mamá.” She tells you, winking.

“Shut up,” you groan. “Is it too much? I could change-”

“You look amazing, Y/N. Take the damn compliment and stop worrying.” She grabs your shoulders for good measure and looks into your eyes. “You are gorgeous, you have seven gorgeous soulmates, and they’re going to lose their shit when they see how good you look tonight.” 

You blush, avoiding her gaze and chewing at your bottom lip. “Fine…” You mumble, “can we go now?” 

“Sure thing, Chief,” she smiles, pushing you out of your bathroom and out of the suite. 

You feel damn near bare in the outfit you’re wearing, especially being so accustomed to your usual pencil skirts and button ups. The nude-toned heels you wore now, along with the lace upper half of your jumpsuit, left you feeling pretty bare. Of course, the slip you wore underneath the clothing kept your chest from being seen. Thankfully, the bottom half of the jumpsuit flowed out like parachute pants, reassuring you that your dignity would remain intact during your event-filled evening. 

Walking to the waiting Big Hit SUV is a feat in itself. You nearly eat shit multiple times, catching yourself on Elle’s shoulder without fail whenever you do so. Shei greets you with a wide smile. “You both look so beautiful!” He tells you, waiting for you to translate for Elle. 

“Thank you!” Elle smiles, bowing to Shei. He blushes at her kindness, closing the back door once the two of you are inside the vehicle. “I’m so excited! We get to hang out with BTS backstage! That’s something I never thought I’d get to say.” 

“Don’t get too excited,” you warn her, “we still have to make sure and get material for the articles we’ll be swamped in later on… and we don’t know how much time they will have for us. They’ve got practice and stuff to run through.” 

“Ah, stop being such a party pooper, Y/N. Take it in stride! I haven’t heard you once say how incredible it is that they’re your soulmates.” 

“It is incredible!” You argue, flushing, “I just don’t want to broadcast it to the whole world yet.” 

“Well, we’re alone now!” Elle points out, “Let it out!” She notes your hesitancy, “c’mon! Just one shout.” 

You roll your eyes affectionately at her, but her excitement is intoxicating and contagious. You take a deep breath, steel your resolve for what you’re about to do, and yell. You sound similar to a baby lion trying to roar, and somewhere in between those pitiful shouts are chants of, “BTS is my soulmate!” 

Elle chimes in at some point, obnoxious cries mixing in with your insufferable ones. You don’t remember Shei putting up the divider in the large vehicle, but he does. You’ll have to apologize for that later, but right now? You were just too damn excited to care. Because you were going to a BTS concert, the entirety of BTS are your soulmates, and you’d gotten backstage passes and front row seats because of it. 

Only when Shei turns the massive Range Rover into a parking garage do you quiet down, motioning for Elle to do the same. He gets out, and you can see him making a phone call. You’re antsy, nerves getting the best of you, as they typically did, until he opens the door and tells you and Elle to follow him, and that the boys were waiting for you. 

The Olympic Gymnastics Arena is unlike any work of architecture you’d seen before. The intricate hallways and limitless side-rooms could prove to be a maze to anyone who ever existed, but Shei somehow manages just fine. He weaves through long stretches of halls and great-halls, you and Elle trailing behind him, with unmistakable purpose. You can tell you’re close to where you need to be once you take a hallway that resembles an underground tunnel, the acoustics themselves nearly morphing your footsteps into something musical and magical. 

“From the top!” You hear someone call, you assume it’s JHope, given how dedicated he is to dancing. 

The nerves from earlier disappear, and are replaced with an indescribable sense of purpose and comfort once you hear him. Shei pushes a double-wide set of doors open, and Elle struts in. You follow behind her, careful of your steps as the brightly lit hallway fades away and warm light greets you. 

You realize quickly that you’re quite literally backstage. Or, below the stage. There was some sort of mechanism that looked as if it were meant to lift your soulmates up and onto the awaiting stage. 

“Woah,” Taehyung gapes, eyeing you up like his life depended on it. “You look amazing.” He smiles, the boxy features you’re coming to adore dearly gracing his already beautiful face. 

“Thanks,” you smile, blushing, and slipping easily into Korean speech. 

The rest of them are silently taking you in, appreciating what they see. You can practically feel their attraction to you radiating through the room. Hoseok is glued in place, maybe mid-pirouette? You feel slightly guilty for stopping him during his dance. 

“Sorry if I interrupted,” you tell him, “I didn’t know if you were practicing or not.” 

You snap him out of his stupor, and he repositions his body into a more… normal stance. “You’re fine!” He smiles, charisma coming back full-force. “Taehyung is right, you do look stunning.” 

You blush further, nearly curling in on yourself. You mentally slap yourself for not bringing a cardigan or a hoodie that you could burrow yourself into. Spaghetti straps would be the death of you tonight.

“Thank you, Hoseok.” You smile. He returns the favor tenfold. 

Elle looks beyond confused. You explain to her what had been said, and she smiles devilishly at you. “Namjoon, you speak English, right?” She asks. 

“Elle-” you start. 

“I do,” the man in question answers, eyes bright and curious. 

“Y/N here has been bursting at the seams with excitement for tonight.” She tells him, and you desperately wish the ground would do you the courtesy of opening up and swallowing you whole. “We listened to all of the music on your set-list last night just to get excited for tonight.” 

Namjoon chuckles, deep and hearty and warm. “Thank you,” he tells both of you, “we do have an additional song we’ll be performing tonight, though!” 

“Yah! Don’t ruin our surprise performance!” Jungkook shouts, his Korean rushed and frantic.

“I won’t, I won’t!” Namjoon reassures him in English before turning to you. “So what are you most excited for?” 

You deliberate, coming up empty-handed. What wasn’t there to be excited about? Just the way Namjoon looks at you, tall legs accentuated by black skinny jeans and a crew neck black tee that the entire team dons. They were all matching, and the realization is delicious and fruitful. Namjoon’s eyes are waiting on you, exhilarated by what your answer could be, when you remember you hadn’t answered him. The man has you swooning and excited beyond belief, yet he’s expecting you to tell him your favorite song? You were going to combust. 

“Everything,” you tell him, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “I don’t have any set favorites. All of your guys’ music gets to me.” 

You finally take in the rest of the boys, and you’re shocked you weren’t drooling. 

Namjoon’s faded pastel pink hair is enough to do you in itself. Combine it with the rest of them? You were fucking doomed. 

Jimin’s near-white hair highlights his bone structure and differs from the pink hair he’d had the day prior. His chiseled face sends goosebumps up your naked arms, especially when he notes your glance and dares to wink at you, toothy grin making his eyes smile and making your heart nearly come to a halt. The boy was undeniably breathtaking, and he knew it.

Taehyung has his signature bandanna on, keeping the chocolate curls you so desperately wanted to play with from falling onto his face and obstructing his view. His eyes are warm and large, boxy smile still plastered across his face. 

Hoseok’s hair is a similar chocolatey shade to Tae’s, but its length differs. The middle part gives people easy access to seeing his ethereal features, from his perfect skin to the elvish slope of his nose, to the innocent eyes that beam at you with happiness. The man was a literal angel. 

Jin’s hair is different from yesterday. Whereas yesterday it’d been the butterscotch blond that you loved, today it was a lavender that you loved just as much. His full lips break into a smile when he catches your gaze, and you send one back, giving his deep-brown doe-eyes another once-over before reluctantly moving on. 

Yoongi smiles a gummy smile that you’d started memorizing, giving you a tiny wave that you return immediately. His hair is pitch black, cut just at his eyebrows. His pouty lips are distinguishable even as he smiles, something that has your heart doing a backflip. 

Jungkook, the Golden Maknae himself, looks ravishing. His hair is nearly as black as Yoongi’s, fluffy tendrils falling into his eyes seductively as he sends a boyish grin your way. You have to remind yourself that he is, in fact, a year older than you, despite his youthful appearance. 

“I missed you guys!” You tell them, heartwarming from the smiles your admission elicits from them.

“We missed you, too, Jagiya!” Taehyung replies, shooting up from his seat and towards you with his arms extended. He comes to a pause, most likely remembering your reaction to his last hug. 

You laugh at his internal battle, and close the distance yourself, pulling him into your arms and relishing in his warmth. He was like a fucking space-heater. 

He locks you into his surprisingly strong embrace, chest hard against your soft one. “You are small.” He chuckles, swaying slightly with you in his arms. 

“Hey!” You shout playfully, pulling away from him and booping his nose. “Don’t mock my height! I’m strong for my size.” 

“I believe you,” he smiles, his deep voice leaving you lightheaded. 

“Where’s our hugs?” Jin pouts, looking at you and Tae.

“Come and get them,” you quip, holding your arms open for whoever takes up your offer. Within seconds, you’re being nearly suffocated by seven fully grown men (it seems Tae slipped back in) who have you trapped in a bear hug. “You guys are stealing all of my air!” You grumble, trying to escape the mountain that is BTS.

“You can’t get away from us, Jagiya~” Jungkook sings, voice intoxicating. 

“Food’s here!” A voice calls out, and you’re left breathing lost oxygen, the arms around you disappear, save for one pair. 

Yoongi still holds tightly onto you, head resting in the crook of your neck, as the rest of the band swarms the takeout that’d been ordered. You watch, small smile on your face, while Namjoon explains to Elle what food is what, and helps her prepare her own plate. 

“You tired?” You ask Yoongi, taking the opportunity to lead him to a vacant wall and sit with him. He rests his head back against your shoulder, nodding it lamely. “You could take a nap on me, if you want,” you tell him.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, gripping your hand and holding it in his lap. Seconds pass before you can hear his breathing hollow out and watch as his chest rises and falls deeply. 

“Don’t move!” Tae chirps softly, pulling out his phone as he walks over to the two of you. “This is going to be such a cute picture!” 

The flash momentarily blinds you, but you don’t care once you see the outcome of the photograph. You look alive in it. The way you’d seen a lot of people look alive when they were complete. You are clearly looking into Tae’s eyes in the picture, gaze amorous and admiring. Yoongi’s lips are parted, hands wrapped around yours that’s in his lap, as he leans against you in the picture. It’s incredibly intimate and incredibly heartwarming. 

“Thank you, Taehyung.” You smile, motioning for him to sit on the other side of you. He does, and he mimics Yoongi, your other hand is pulled into his lap, and he rests his chocolate curls against your vacant shoulder. “Make sure you send that picture to the group chat later.” You tell him. 

“Did that as soon as I took it.” He smiles against you, lips stretching against your shoulder. You have to try insanely hard not to shudder. “So, are you excited for the show?” 

“Of course.” You reply, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited or content with anything in my life before.” Sincerity is prevalent in your sentence. 

“I can’t wait for you to see us perform! Hoseok’s nervous we will forget some dance steps if we see you in the crowd, but I think you’ll help us do even better.” 

You want to melt at that. This man was sweeter than any sweet you’d ever had. 

“I hope that’s the case, Taehyung.” You tell him, gripping his hand in yours tightly. He returns the grip, strong hands engulfing your own. 

“We mess up our routines a lot anyway,” he shrugs against you, “so it wouldn’t be anything new if we did mess up.” 

“Easy for someone to say when they’re not in charge of the choreography,” Hoseok grumbles from the nearby table full of takeout boxes. “Y/N, are you hungry?” He asks, “I’m preparing a plate for Yoongi, and I can put some extra food on it.”

“Yes, please!” You chirp, knowing your stomach will appreciate it when you’re dancing and cheering them on later. “Thank you, Hoseok!” 

He smiles brightly at you, adding a massive spoonful of kimchi fried rice to the plate. Within a few relatively silent minutes, save for Jungkook and Jimin arguing over a rice cake, Hoseok brings the ridiculously full plate to your mini-huddle against the wall. Tae steals a bit of orange chicken from it, thankful that you don’t rebuke him like the elder members would, and eats next to you in silence. The food seems to have some sort of magical power because the smell wakes Yoongi up, and he immediately pops some chicken into his mouth. 

“Thanks for being my pillow,” he says between bites. “You’re a very good one.” 

“Well, thanks.” You smile, eating some of the fried rice. “You can return the favor when I’m tired later.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” he smiles back, continuing to eat the ridiculously delicious takeout that management had brought. 

“Practice starts in 40 minutes,” JHope announces, looking at his iPhone. “Concert in three hours.” 

“Yah,” Yoongi groans, melting against your side. “Can’t we skip the practice, Hobi?” He asks, voice wavering from his tiredness. You wish you could alleviate it. 

“You know we can’t, Yoongi,” JHope replies. You watch as Namjoon continues translating for Elle, immersing in conversation like it were a gift. The man was kind beyond words. 

“I know, I know,” Yoongi grumbles. “Just gimme a minute before we shoot off onto the stage.” 

“You can rest on me after the show, if you want,” you offer the sleepy man on your shoulder. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” he tells you, hugging you against him and nearly spilling the plate full of food that’s on your lap. 

“What about us?” Jimin asks, pouting at you from the table where he and the rest of the guys sit. 

“You’re all welcome to nap on me,” you laugh, “you might run out of comfortable spots to rest your heads on, though.” 

Jimin blushes a light pink, stuffing his mouth with another forkful of his rice. 

“So,” Namjoon starts, speaking in his accented English, “while we practice, you two can find your seats. That way, when the concert starts, you won’t be stuck trying to find them.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Elle smiles behind a mouthful of food. “We’re excited to see you guys on stage.” 

“Thank you. That means a lot to us,” Namjoon replies, his gaze gently passing onto you. 

The rest of the time you’re with them below-stage is spent asking the usual pre-concert questions. ‘What song are you most excited to perform?’ and ‘How long have you guys been practicing this specific set list for?’ 

You’re pleased to find out that since ‘Persona’ was a smaller album, they’d be performing a lot of their songs from ‘Answer’ and ‘Tear.’ Two albums you’d studied heavily the night prior with the help of Elle, and your complete fascination with your newfound soulmates.

They answer your questions with enthusiasm and great care, making sure you and Elle get the content you’d need for your articles. Hoseok is especially wordy with his answers, giving you illustrious details that he knew would help you later on. 

Jin, ever the comedian, cracks his signature dad jokes throughout the mini-questionnaire. The jokes, however simple, leave you clutching your sides as you lose yourself in your laughter, which Jin seems extremely thankful for. 

“Five minutes!” Someone you assume to be a stagehand tells the boys, popping their head into the room you’re in to address them. 

All seven sets of eyes light up, thrill coursing through them as they start to chat amongst themselves, preparing each other for the lengthy practice they’d be running through. Elle finds you amidst their chatter, putting her arm around your bare shoulders. 

“You look happy,” she smiles, wagging her brows at you. 

“Aw, shut up,” you quip, sending her a light glare. “They’re nice.” 

“That they are. Namjoon let me in on a few secrets while you were playing bed for Yoongi and V.” She tells you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “This concert is going to kick ass.” 

“Is that right?” You reply dryly. “And are you going to let me in on these secrets?” 

“No way in hell, L/N.” She laughs. “That’d ruin the authenticity of it all.” 

You roll your eyes, but don’t bug her to tell you the entirety of the practice. The boys are ruthless on stage, and you relish in their echoing voices resounding in the amphitheater, thankful that you’d been granted the exclusive mini-performance. There are some run-throughs that they leave out, you can tell because the practice lasts at least an hour less than the actual concert would. 

Elle cheers them on enthusiastically the entire practice, you echoing her cheers. You’re beyond grateful for her cheering next to you, because if she weren’t there to show you what you should be cheering, you’d be a sputtering mess in your seat. The solo performances in particular fuck you up. You’d figured they would, but holy shit. You don’t think anything could have prepared you for the rush of emotions you’re met with once the stage lights dim and the practice is concluded. 

Elle is pretty much screaming her approval at the top of her lungs next to you, while you take a deep breath and desperately hold in your tears. Jungkook stands alone on the stage, his performance of ‘Euphoria’ being the closing act, you assume. 

“We’re going to go get dressed while security starts letting people in!” He tells you, speaking into his microphone. “We’ll see you after the show.” He smiles, only retreating from the stage when you shout ‘ok’ and hold a thumbs up in the air.

The seats fill quickly, people filing in without pause. The air turns into an excited static, fans chanting their signature BTS chants while they wait for the men in question to appear on the stage. 

The music seems to emanate from the entirety of the building, floor rumbling, lights dimming, and changing colors. You hear Namjoon speaking into his microphone before you see him, thanking everyone for attending and promising that they’ll perform their all. 

And then they’re there. Lifted from the pedestal below the center stage up onto the main stage. They all wear similar button-up shirts and tight black pants. The only distinguishing factor beyond their hair is the colors of their shirts. 

Jimin’s shirt is silver, flowing around him like a silver waterfall. Jin’s is a pastel blue, reminding you of the sky just before the sun disappears and stars can be seen. Taehyung has a pastel orange shirt, similar to the tints in the sky that can be seen during a sunset. Namjoon sports a pastel purple color, reminding you of the purple cotton candy you could get at the state fair in Washington. JHope’s top is a pastel yellow, matching the sunny personality that wears it. Jungkook’s shirt is a pastel pink, matching Namjoon’s hair and only darkening his already onyx hair. Yoongi has a pastel green shirt on, resembling sea foam that washes up on the beach shore in Hawaii, which you’ve been to precisely three times.

All of them together remind you of the candy heart boxes you could buy around Valentine’s Day, leaving a sweet taste in your mouth and your heart fluttering. They truly were beautiful beyond words. You can see the bronzer they’ve used to sculpt their already prominent cheekbones, the charcoal eyeliner that accentuates their dark eyes. They looked sinful, deliciously so.

Their first song is the highly popular ‘Boy With Luv,’ Halsey’s voice playing through the stadium speakers because she isn’t there. The rest of ‘Persona’ follows, fans singing along with them. You’re too busy following their trained muscles that strain against their clothing while they dance. Beyond their initial beauty, which always rendered people speechless, they were (for lack of better wording) hot. You count yourself lucky for them scoring you the seats you have now. You were only a handful of yards away from them, able to see their faces clearly, and get lost in the music they croon. 

You especially appreciate the sleeve cuffs that are keeping their wrists tightly secured by fabric, but allowing the rest of the arm sleeves to puff out and billow in the air following their movements. Jimin’s ‘Serendipity’ dance has him literally resembling a silver river, rivulets of clothing and hair flowing effortlessly alongside the pirouettes and jumps that he performs without challenge. You silently thank the contemporary dancing he’d done before joining the group for the beautiful moves you’re playing witness to. 

‘Serendipity’ ends, and you can hardly tell where ‘Singularity’ begins, they melt so beautifully into one another that it’s hard to distinguish when the song change even happens. 

Tae performs the song brilliantly, dancing as sensually and emotionally as possible. You have to remind yourself to breathe so you don’t pass out, his soulful crooning putting you under a spell that has your eyes slightly dazed and dilated. 

You shake yourself out of it slightly as ‘Epiphany’ starts, Jin’s vocals clear and loud. It’s heart-shattering how much emotion he pours into the performance, pedestal in the centermost of the stage lifting him towards the heavens and back down to the stage as his voice rises and lowers throughout the song’s entirety. 

You take in a hollow breath when Yoongi whispers “Suga” into the mic, stepping forward and relieving Jin of his stage presence. His dance is calculated throughout the song, with background dancers helping him to portray the emotion and complication of the song. Your heart nearly stops when he sits atop a bench brought out mid-dance, and his background dancers tip it, leaving Yoongi to slide off and back onto the stage floor. You’re worried he won’t land, but are left open-mouthed when he does land it. Perfectly. 

Namjoon’s solo is next, the piano of ‘Love’ echoing throughout the somehow silent stadium. His voice rings through as he takes the center of the stage, his face plastered onto the big screen behind him. The camera that follows him along the stage is practically his only prop; he refers to it the entirety of the solo, speaking to it as if it were you and the rest of the people filed into the circular arena. The heart fingers he puts in front of the camera lens at the end have the population inside the dome practically shaking the colosseum with their cheers. 

The purple lights momentarily stun you, but you can see JHope standing amidst them all, and you force yourself to focus on him and not the surrounding pulsing lights. He smiles, sending the boyish grin towards the general area you're seated in, and you bite your bottom lip, heart feeling dangerously full and ready to burst. You were ready for the charismatic and chipper Hobi that you were growing accustomed to, but were pleasantly surprised when his solo dripped swagger and sex appeal. The man oozed virtuosity and he was not afraid to be cocky about it. 

Jungkook’s performance is quite literally reminiscent of any rock song performance you’d seen. You can see the similarities to Elvis, Michael Jackson, Queen, and so many more famous rock stars that it leaves you feeling nothing short of nostalgic and blown away. The wistful air that surrounds the golden maknae has your heart panging and eyes watering. 

You’re left confused when all of the members return to the stage and the music dies down, leaving you and the rest of the fans utterly silent and waiting on the edge of your seats for whatever was to come next. 

“These next songs we’ve performed many times,” Jin begins. 

“Tonight they will have more meaning,” JHope adds. 

“Tonight they will be complete. As we’ve found ourselves feeling over the past few days. These songs are dedicated to us, and you.” Namjoon finishes, looking your way before signaling towards the back of the stage. 

The lights all shut off, and you suck in a harsh breath, completely blown away by the implication beyond their words. 

The deep melodic beat starts, pulsing through the crowd. You can hear the recognition of the song hit the rest of the fans, hear the way they lose their collective cool, and scream soulfully towards the stage. 

The interlude takes a few minutes, and you are vaguely aware of Elle gripping your hand in her own. You can just barely make out the knowing smile that’s housed on her face. When the light comes back on, your breathing stops. They’re still wearing the pants and shoes they’d been wearing before, but rather than the individually colored button-up shirts, they’re all dressed in the exact same white button-ups, cuffs tight against their wrists. 

They face away from the massive crowd, hands at their sides. Jimin’s voice calls out through a pause in the music, velvety smooth and breathy. 

“When you say that you love me, 난 하늘 위를 걷네, 영원을 말해줘, just one more time,” he calls out, turning to face the crowd as he does so. 

Jungkook mimics his actions, repeating the melodic tempo that’d been sung just before him, with only slightly differing lyrics. And you’re left in your seat, a sputtering and crying mess, your heart overflowing and rendering you a blob of emotion. 

The rest of the members turn, Jin taking his mic and singing soulfully into it; his voice echoing throughout the stadium. 

Your breathing completely hitches as they sing the chorus, echoes of ‘you got the best of me,’ resonating in your heart. Yoongi’s vocals cause your heart to nearly stop, the lightness of his raspy voice intoxicating and differing so much from his usual rap vocals.  

The bridge hits, JHope, Jimin, and Jungkook giving it their all. Their voices are heavy with unspoken intent and dripping with adoration they hold for each other, and the unspoken adoration for you. Your heart could burst at any moment. 

And it pretty much does when the final beat of the song hits and they lift their left arms in the air, right hands reaching for the clasp on their sleeves. Elle grips your hand in response to you lifting your other to cover your gaping mouth, shock coursing through you in thick waves. 

The fans seem to sense what they’re doing, screams deafening as the boys unlock their clasps and the left sleeves fall, expansive ink plain as day on each wrist. 

“Yours are covered!” Elle shouts, her voice somehow successfully reaching your burning ears. Because, yes, they just did that. 

The break in music is short-lived, the beginning instrumental of ‘Magic Shop’ blocking out the deafening roar of the crowd. Your sight is blurry as your tears continue to fall, emotion suffocating you as you try desperately to listen to the rest of the song. You’re not as successful as you want to be, which is only slightly disappointing given the shock you’d just had to trudge through to remain conscious. You knew they were planning on revealing their markings, but to do it right after practically dedicating an overtly emotional ballad to you? 

The iconic manor of it all had you swooning, feeling lightheaded, and overcome with the heaviest emotion you’d ever encountered. 

You hardly hear them thanking everyone for coming out to their show, explaining that there were two more remaining shows they’d be doing in Seoul before moving on to Busan, and thanking the fans for selling out the entirety of their tour. 

The fans remain clapping after the show, and you’re led away by the bodyguard who’d brought you to your seats originally. You follow him, your tears having finally stopped, and your face most likely looking void of any emotion aside from shock. 

The bodyguard bows, opening the door to a sort of rec room that was not the room you were in before the concert. 

The boys are all strewn across random furniture, miraculously having changed into loungewear and nursing large water bottles to their exhausted faces. Taehyoung spots you first, gripping you into a hug after he practically leaps to where you are in the room. 

It’s as if their presence has revived your ability to feel emotions. His arms encircling you have you feeling everything you’d felt in the arena. The resurgence of the strong emotions has tears spilling onto Tae’s grey sweater, which surprises you, as you’d thought you’d cried them all out. 

You burrow further into his toned frame, his strong chest supporting you, and keeping you tethered to him. You sniffle and shiver, appreciating his warmth more than you could describe. The coldness of the rec room was getting to you. 

“Are you okay, Jagiya?” His deep voice asks you, rumble in his chest as he speaks, making you shiver for a different reason completely. He senses this shiver, “Are you cold?” He asks, and you nod your head against the muscle of his chest. 

“I’ll grab her one of my spare sweaters,” you hear Jin say. Shuffling and muffled noise is coming from the opposite side of the room, but you’re too tired and relying far too heavily on Tae to keep you standing straight up to part from him and look at the source of the ruckus. “Here you go, Jagiya,” Jin tells you, and this time you do have to part from Tae. 

Jin takes in your appearance, probably seeing how emotionally raw you look, and helps you into the sweater. It smells heavenly, and so much like Jin that you hug it tightly around you once it’s on. 

“Thank you, Jin,” you squeak, blushing at the timid smile he graces you with. 

“Of course,” he tells you, pulling you into a hug. “Did you enjoy the show?” He asks, leading you to sit between him and Yoongi on a small couch. 

“It was amazing,” you breathe out, “you guys just- wow.” You gape. 

Yoongi chuckles, readjusting himself so he can rest his hooded head atop your lap. “Does this mean I can nap now?” He asks you. 

You peer into his droopy eyes, his exhaustion practically tangible. “Yes,” you giggle, running a hand through his fluffy, sable hair. 

He grips your hand in his, like he had earlier, and you wonder how much he loved holding people’s hands in his own. He seemed to be extremely content with it. You’re slightly shocked when he raises it to his lips and presses a feather-light kiss to the back of it. 

You blush without pause, biting your bottom lip. “Get some sleep,” you tell him, squeezing his hand in your own when he rests it back on his chest. 

You’re thankful none of the guys ask you about your puffy eyes, or your hoarse voice. You wouldn’t know how to explain your emotions regarding the concert, at least, not just yet. 

The only thing you were sure of was how completely blown away you were by the night’s events. You’re even more shocked when Elle tells you that Shei will be taking her back to the hotel so she can catch some sleep, leaving you with the seven men who completed your existence. She smiles knowingly at you, kissing your hair before Shei comes to collect her from the room. 

“I’ll see you later,” she tells you, waving your way. “Keep her safe!” She warns the men around you. 

“Of course,” Namjoon responds, smiling at her and waving her goodbye. The rest of them, save for Yoongi, who is now fully asleep on your lap, send her their waves, a chorus of lighthearted ‘goodbyes’ echoing through the decorated rec room. 

“We were going to ask you,” Jimin starts, turning towards you a few moments after Elle has departed. “Would you want to go to our hotel with us and hang out? Tae and Jungkook were going to play a few games of Overwatch, and we usually cheer them on,” he smiles, eyes half-moons. 

“Sure,” you smile, slightly nervous but mostly excited that you’d get to see them and how they interact in their natural setting. “That sounds fun.” 

Jungkook and Tae pump their fists into the air at your answer, “Overwatch, Overwatch, Overwatch!” They chant, running around the room like lunatics. 

“Can you two shut up?” Yoongi grumbles, hugging your hand against his pouty face. He doesn’t look pleased in the slightest to have been woken up. 

“We can’t!” Jungkook chirps, “Y/N is going to come over and watch us play tonight!” 

Yoongi’s brows furrow, and his gummy grin takes center stage on his sleepy face, “You’re coming over?” He asks, voice heavy with sleep.

“Yep!” You smile. 

“That’ll be fun,” he breathes out, rubbing his cheek against the back of your hand that he’d kissed only twenty minutes before. 

“Oh, will it?” You ask, wiggling your brows at him. He laughs at that, kissing your hand again. 

With a shaky breath, you realize just how right he most likely was.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

taglist -

@yoongiiuu93 @readerofallthingss @sidnaazsworld @lluciboo @moo-moo33 @skaurs-world @bjoriis @moonchild0777

[dry-yellow-marker]

satoru gojo is standing still so his students can look back to see how far they've come

[gossamyrrh]

okay…… can we please talk about alien boyfriend!choso and intimacy….

he doesn’t quite understand the way humans interact—finds it a bit peculiar, to be specific—since on his planet all communication, whether physical or verbal, is through frequencies.

hence, why the first time you hug him he’s…appalled. lets out a shocked “hmm?” as you wrap your arms around him, his own stiff at his sides as you meet him chest to chest.

you have to explain to him that humans do this to show fondness. affection. he, of course, lets out a confused trill.

“it means i love you, choso.”

that, he understands, and it makes him hum softly. something like a purr, as he wraps you in his arms and mirrors your previous action (albeit with much more force than necessary. but he’s learning.)

and he grows from there.

from then on out, alien boyfriend!choso begins to experiment with intimacy and touch. sometimes, he’ll run his fingers down the slope of your neck and shoulders, along the curve of your cheek, before he hesitantly follows it with a trail of kisses. some quick, others long and wet—with teeth.

he spends most his time touching you. gaining the courage and deftness to venture the rest of your body (the soft swell of your breasts, the planes of your stomach), which he quickly learns are far more sensitive than he would’ve thought. pulls little gasps from the depth of you.

so, imagine his surprise when he slips a little further.

he’s grazing along your skin per usual—the soft flesh of your inner thigh—but this time his fingers venture a little too far. the intention wasn’t sexual, you know. he’s just curious! but your body writhes all the same, legs clamping shut around his hand, hips lifting into his touch, cunt throbbing.

and he lets out a little warble. head tilting as he does it again, watches as your breath hitches and you let out a strangled moan.

“cho—”

he chitters, and you know he’s curious as to what’s wrong. “d-don’t do that. it—”

but you cut off when he does it again, just to test.

and oh.

his eyes widen, fascinated, and he stills for half a second, absorbing the way your thighs jerk—the way your chest rises and falls so quickly. his ears twitch, registering the shift in your breathing—the frequency of it. the way your heartbeat pounds against your ribs.

you’re warm, he notices. warmer than before.

choso lets out another soft chitter, tilting his head as his fingers move again—this time with purpose.

it’s still careful—experimental—tracing slow, aimless patterns across your folds, dragging through the slickness that he doesn’t quite understand but is so intrigued by. his brows furrow as he spreads you apart with just the lightest press of his fingers, feeling the soft give of you, the heat, the way your body reacts before you can even stop it.

your hips twitch up, seeking.

and that makes something in his chest rumble.

“hrrrggmmm.”

with narrow eyes, his other hand finds your hip and presses down, pinning you in place as he continues. you make a strangled noise this time, something between a gasp and a whimper, and that—

that makes him shudder.

a low, rattling sound vibrates from deep in his chest, and his shoulders tremble—arms lock. his fingers work faster now, sliding through your slick with more confidence, curiosity morphing into something more intentional. primal.

“cho’!”

you claw at his forearm, nails digging in, your lips parting in something breathless, something desperate. but he doesn’t stop. doesn’t even hesitate.

because he wants to understand.

he needs to.

his fingers slip lower, and when they find your entrance—when they push just the slightest bit inside—your back arches.

a sharp inhale. a high, keening sound that makes his eyes darken.

his ears twitch at the shift in your voice, pleasure laced into every breath. and he thinks—he knows—he’s doing something right.

choso chitters again, pleased, head tilting as he slowly sinks his fingers in. your walls flutter around him, your thighs threatening to snap shut, but he doesn’t let you. his grip is firm, controlling, holding you open so he can keep watching—keep feeling.

because this is new.

this is good.

he moves his finger in and out, and the sounds you make are sharper now, gasping moans that make a familiar heat in his belly coil tighter. his fingers move instinctively, mimicking the rhythm of your hips, learning the way you react—what makes you squirm, tremble, break.

and then he finds it.

that one spot inside you that makes your entire body tremble.

he freezes, stunned, absorbing the way your breath shatters, the way your nails dig into his skin so desperately.

then, slowly, deliberately—he presses there again.

and you cry out.

and his grip tightens.

his fingers curl just right, his pace steady but firm, pressing, circling, exploring. he chitters low in his throat, fascinated by the way your legs shake, your breath hiccupping into something uneven, something wild.

you’re close—he doesn’t know what that means, not in words, but he feels it.

feels the way your body tightens, the way your slick coats his fingers, the way your heartbeat pounds against his palm when he presses against your stomach to hold you down.

you writhe. you beg—though he doesn’t understand the words, only the need in them.

and then, suddenly—

it happens.

your body locks up. a strangled moan rips from your throat, your thighs clamping around his hand as the heat inside you shatters. he feels you pulse around his fingers, slick gushing as your body trembles violently beneath him.

choso freezes.

eyes wide. breath heavy. completely stunned.

for the first time since he started, he hesitates.

because what—what was that?

you’re panting, wrecked, head lolling to the side as aftershocks pulse through you. he feels it. feels the way your body twitches, the way you sigh, the way your entire frequency shifts into something slow, sated.

and then he realizes.

…he did this.

a slow, deep hum rolls from his chest. his fingers slide from you, slick coating them, still warm. he studies them, the way they shine, how they tremble just slightly from what he’s done to you.

then, experimentally, he brings them to his lips.

his tongue flicks out, curious.

and the sound he makes when he tastes you is deep. dark. possessive.

because now—now—he understands.

and he wants more.

part two here !

[physalian]

How To Make Your Writing Less Stiff 6

Part 5

Part 1

Adverbs

Gasp! Oh no. Dare come yet more writing advice burning adverbs at the stake? Vindictively, gleefully, manically dancing in the ashes?

No.

This is not about whether or not you should use them, but their frequency and obvious places to replace them. Most bad adverbs are the common ones that could be replaced by verbs we all know.

“She ran quickly” // “She sprinted”

“He said angrily” // “He snapped” “He chided” “He chastised”

vs.

“He ate voraciously”

“She swayed solemnly”

“She laughed sadly”

Bonus if you can add in some alliteration like ‘swayed solemnly’

If you can come up with an obvious verb to replace your verb + adverb combo, do so. If it would take more words or the closest applicable verb doesn’t hit the same vibe, then leave it. Adverbs should enhance the verb, not be redundant. Verbs shouldn’t be pretentious just to avoid them.

“She smiled happily” — most smiles are happy. Happily is redundant.

“He ran quickly” —a run is, by nature, quick

vs.

“She smiled sourly”

“He ran erratically”

Also!

The adverb need not always be after the verb.

“C accepted gladly” // “C gladly accepted”

But also

“Glad, C accepted”

“A shook their head resolutely” // “Resolute, A shook their head”

“The child skipped excitedly away.” // “Excited, the child skipped away.” // “The child skipped away, excited.”

English is flexible like that.

Which is what I mean with managing your adverb frequency. As most end in the -ly, too many in succession, on top of the repeat syntax of Subject - Verb - Adverb looks boring and dull (and so does beginning every sentence with the subject). It helps with your cadence and flow if you don’t have entire paragraphs at a time all starting with “He [verb]” or “She [verb]” or “They [verb].” We don't speak like this in natural conversation.

But at the end of the day, there are some juicy adverbs that have no equal without busting out the thesaurus for some obscure lexical nugget that no one would understand anyway.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Second Chance At Love Pt. 3

Variant! Invincible x gn! Reader

Warnings: angst, blood, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, not proofread A/N: don't worry, this is not over yet! and sorry to all the og Mark fans lmao

[A few minutes earlier, Pentagon Medical Ward]

"So you left my friend alone with this freak the whole time?!"

Cecil's thumb was hesitating on the trigger for the high-frequency device, not wanting to stain his relationship with the original Mark any further - but after witnessing what his variants were capable of, he's certainly not taking any chances.

"Calm. Down." he urges the young Viltrumite while trying to remain amenable at the same time. "We needed to take care of the active threats beforehand, and also...he seemed quite fond of your friend." That last part he regretted immediately after saying it aloud.

"You can't be serious!" Mark now screamed, dramatically throwing his hands in the air, thus making all nearby agents cower in fear. "It was you who told me that one of those psychos tried to lure my mom out to kill her! What else do you think this is? He made my friend believe he's me, to play some sort of wicked game!"

All that had happened those past few days...the death and destruction...Mark blamed himself for all of it, because at the bottom line everything was inevitably caused by his own lack of resolve.

And there he was, hiding away at Eve's sickbed like a stubborn child, cowardly refusing to take responsibility as earth's last hope, while others were risking their lives to correct his errors, hell, while his brother and mom were still out there!

Once again he let everyone down.

But Mark won't let any more people he cares about suffer because of his own shortcomings. This time he won't hold back...

...he'll kill this variant and make him pay for what he's done.

Picking up his mask from the counter, he bids his still comatose girlfriend one last look, very well aware how disappointed she'd be at his latest decisions. She'd want him to go. So he mutters a silent apology before rushing into the hallway, with Cecil following closely behind.

"Teleport me to them. And you better send as many backup reanimen as you can."

[Current time]

"Careful Mark. If our observations are correct, this one is way stronger than the others." The hero huffs in annoyance upon hearing Cecil's voice from his earpiece, watching his other self come out of the debris with not a hair out of place.

Well, most of the variants probably never faced any real threat or even slight disadvantage in their lives. There was simply no reason for them to train properly, since the powergap between Viltrumites and any other species was just so ridiculously high.

This version of Mark however spent his entire life preparing his vengeance on Omni-man for taking the one and only thing he truly cared about...

...and his hard work seemed to bear fruit, since a single counterattack of his was painful enough to temporarily stun the original. He seized the opportunity to pin his opponent down, landing one severe blow after another until both of them were completely covered in the original Mark's blood.

"NO!" you screamed at the top of your lungs, having thrown yourself onto the variant's back as you - brave yet very foolishly - tried to to get those two behemoths away from each other. And in the end, your struggle and pleas actually made the variant stop in his tracks. "Please...don't kill him."

For a split second you see the look of heartbreak and betrayal in the man's face, since seeing you still care so much for the original erased all hope he had started to harbor.

Your world's Mark has everything he ever wanted, and he doesn't even understand how lucky he is.

This is so fucking unfair, it's driving him insane.

The Viltrumite raises his bloodied knuckles to his temples, his jealousy spiraling into a violent, irrational urge to tear the original apart and take his place.

And yet he tries to keep it together for your sake as he couldn't bear to cause you any more sorrow. He glares you down with so much malice "That was self-defense" he scoffed through strained breaths, desperately trying to prevent himself from having a mental breakdown. "I wasn't actually going to-"

Now it was the original Mark's chance to turn the battle around, grabbing the variant by the throat as he crushed him against a mountain not far from the hill you were on.

While your former friend was completely disregarding you, rationality overthrown by his wrath, the other Invincible's eyes were practically glued to you in concern for your safety. At first he was holding back, letting the attacker use him as a punching bag in hopes it'd calm him down...

...but when he recognized the capsules transporting reanimen falling from the sky, he pounced on you with no forethought, shielding you from the impact with his own body.

"Shit, are you oka-" Another time he was torn away from you, with Mark yelling at him to keep his filthy hands off of you. And yet with every move, no matter what, the other Mark did a way better job to prevent any harm than the one who came to 'save' you from that very same man.

"Dude, that's exactly why we cannot fight here!" the variant reprimanded his counterpart while severing the head and limbs from several cyborgs. "Think about your partner's safety! We both only want what's best for them, right?"

"Huh?" The original Mark gave a puzzled look at that statement, the word 'partner' obviously made him think of Eve, but his eyes briefly flickered towards you. "What's that supposed to mea- ah, whatever."

In any other context you would've probably been so embarassed that you wished for the earth to swallow you whole - but this is neither about you, nor was it the time for this kind of talk. And luckily, Mark didn't overthink the variant's words but focused on the truth in them instead, swiftly throwing you over his shoulder to bring you away, so that they could continue their battle without endangering you.

"Let. Me. Go!" You repeatedly punch against Mark's back, horrified to see your newfound friend down below trying to stand his ground against the reanimen. "Tell them to stop! None of this is necessary!"

"Hey, it's me!" Mark tries to soothe you, convinced that you're just overwhelmed by today's events. "The real me, okay? Stop being so irrational!"

"Yeah, I know that, you blockhead!" you blurt out in anger, "And you're one to talk! You let your emotions dictate your actions, as always! I thought Invincible spares the bad guys and tries to talk it out?"

"...not anymore. We all saw today how that way of dealing with villains turns out." Letting you down so far away that you can't even see how the variant is holding up anymore, Mark is about to leave and finish the job when you manage to get a hold of his wrist. "Wait. Listen to me, that Mark is not entirely evil!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" So not only did you know it was a variant, but now you're also defending him?! "The trauma messed with your head or something. Let Cecil's people pick you up and check on you."

"Seriously, Mark." He finally turned around to take a proper look at you, grinding his teeth as he recognized that naive, caring attitude of yours that always had a positive influence on him in the past. It made his heart swell with both admiration and envy...

...because why the hell were you advocating for a malicious version of himself, especially after throwing away your friendship over something he had no control over?!

"You know this guy one fucking day and suddenly you're on his side?" the hurt in his voice was so tremendous, you felt as if the guilt of it swallowed you whole. "You were supposed to be my friend, and he's the one who participated in making mine and many other's lives a living hell! So why?!"

"...it would be a waste to kill off a potential ally of this strenght, would it not?" Your reasoning got accentuated by the sound of metal and flesh clashing in the background, and you secretly hoped the variant was doing okay. "Maybe he can be rehabilitated."

"God, you sound like Cecil...but even he draws a line at some point. This guy is irredeemable!" Mark ran a hand through his hair, pacing around in circles to clear his head - and yet it was like your role in all this was the one drop that made the pot boil over. "He needs to be stopped! You've seen it yourself, he leveled several cities to the ground and killed a great amount of heroes! Shit, he's caused millions of deaths, do you have any idea what that means?!"

There was nothing to add to this. He was right, about absolutely everything. And yet...

"He-he needed to fullfill his part of the bargain, or Angstrom would've-" A loud bang echoed through the air as Mark's fists met the ground in frustration, effectively cutting you off. "Fuck, do you even hear yourself?! He always had a choice to join the fight on the right side instead of wasting his time chasing after yo-" There was a gleam of epiphany in his eyes that made you a little anxious whether he had picked up on the hints.

"Look, I'm not trying to justify his actions." You pry one of Mark's fists open, intertwining your fingers with his. "But we need him..."

"...we, or you?" That question caught you off guard, but when you wanted to stumble away but Mark pulled you right back. "What he talked about earlier...are we a couple in that other dimension?"

Sometimes you tend to forget that he isn't as dull as he comes across. Damn it.

"I-I-I....it's more complicated than that. I...died in his world." You shouldn't even be arguing about something so pointless right now, and you also don't want to burden him any further, but he keeps prying.

"So what, you want to become the moral support of a mass murderer?" Worded like this it does sound pretty awful. "I know you cut me out of your life, but I still care about you. No way I'm gonna let that happen. It's too dangerous."

Those feelings you harbored over the past decade were like a chain weighting heavy around your heart - but instead of communicating like an adult, you dwelled in self-pity and pushed your friend away. And as crazy as it sounds, over time you convinced yourself there's no way out of this, nothing else awaiting you...

...that was until you met the other Mark, however.

No better timing to free yourself than now, you thought, but Mark connected the dots faster than you were able to confess. "...why did you never say anything?"

"Oh c'mon, you've been doting on Eve since highschool." Mark was not the person to back out of a friendship like this, even if though he didn't reciprocate. If you had told him he'd certainly would've found a way to make this work, since he didn't want to lose you. And yet you didn't want to give the two of you the chance to overcome this, rather choosing to hurt him before you get hurt.

What a stupid, selfish teenager you were back then...

"Now it all makes sense" he speaks to himself, shyly glancing over to you again as he covers his blushing cheeks with his hands. "Fuck, I'm such an idiot..."

"Nonsense, I'm the ass for ruining our friendship over a silly crush." That was the understatement of the year - you were head over heels for this man.

He seems almost melancholic thinking back to all the moments he should've noticed what's going on. All this time wasted going no-contact when you could've worked things out instead...but it takes two to do that, and he's certainly not the one to blame.

Turning his head towards the noise of the ongoing fight, he shakes his head in disbelief. "This is so fucked up..."

"Tell me about it" you chuckle, playfully poking his side in an attempt to lighten the mood, and both of you give each other an appreciative smile. "But we shouldn't make rushed decisions in our current state, right?"

Mark lets out a shuddered sigh, realizing just what kind of hole your absence has tore in his life. But you'll manage to get back to how things were between you. This was a ray of hope cutting through the storm he's been caught into, ever since becoming a superhero.

"God, you have no idea how much I've missed you..."

There's no more time to waste, everything else has to wait until much later. Mark brings you back with him, a safe distance away from where the variant was still battling reanimen that just kept coming. Upon seeing Invincible he raises his guard again, but much to his surprise he's not attacked again, quite the opposite.

"Cecil, stop them!" your Mark exclaims into the comm as he jumps in between the crowd of cyborgs, giving a quick nod of acknowledgement to his other self. "He won't resist if we take him prisoner, right?"

"Sure..." the variant murmured, raising a brow in confusion. But indeed, the mechanical soldiers stop and he gets immobilized by Mark without fighting back. He looks up to you as if seeking your approval, and you quickly rush to their side, scolding Mark for being so harsh with his precautions.

"Are you hurt?" you whisper as the GDA agents transport you back to the Pentagon by helicopter, only the real Mark having flown ahead. You however refused to leave the variant's side, even though you've been strongly advised to go home, at least until the situation was less intense.

"This is nothing..." The Viltrumite huffs in amusement that you were worried about him of all people. He looks down to the shackles around his arms and legs that could never actually hold him, daring to crack a smile which you gladly mirrored. "But thanks that you stood up for me...even though I still don't understand why."

"Because I believe in you, so you better not disappoint me!" you chant, whearing a quiet whimper escape his throat when you put a reassuring hand on his knee. "Everything is gonna be alright, I'm sure of it. We're gonna figure it out...together, okay?"

A few hours later and you were still waiting in a hallway of the GDA, the feeling of suspense only worsened by all the pitying and disgusted looks some of the agents were shooting you. It was understandable, of course, since they probably saw you throwing yourself at the enemy live and in HD.

"I couldn't care less about whatever you two got going on" Cecil explains with his usual stoic manner, "but he refuses to talk and we don't have time for this."

You knew the opportunistic geeze was at least partly bluffing - he's most likely already planning on how to utilize Invincible's affection for you to control him.

Upon entering the prison cell you gasped at the gigantic apparatus containing him, all of his limbs encoated by a metal you didn't recognize in order to keep him from making any move. Honestly, it felt like no matter what they tried, he was only here because he wanted to be. If you told him to break out right now he'd most likely wreck this place in one milisecond.

The variant's defeated features brighten as he recognizes who was paying him a visit, but the initial excitement was soon pushed back by his newfound guilty conscience. He didn't expect to ever see you again, let alone you voluntarily entering the lion's den.

"I'll accept whatever punishment you deem necessary" he rasps, greatly worried at the possibility of them using you against your will. "Just leave them out of this."

Cecil nudged the bridge of his nose, groaning exaggeratedly. It sure isn't easy making objective decisions when you're that emotionally involved with the Grayson family - although he'd never admit the soft spot he had for them.

Not to mention, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to get his hands on one of the two literal strongest men on the planet.

"Well for starters you'll help with rescue and rebuidling" he ultimatively decides, talking to the young man like one would scold an unruly child. "Consider this your last chance. And don't you dare taking a break until this whole planet has recovered from the aftermath of your crimes. I don't want to see you eating, sleeping or even breathing without any supervision. Got it?!"

"Yes, Sir..."

A single gesture of his hand enough to make his underlings free the Viltrumite from his confinements. "Give him a new costume so he doesn't scare the survivors...and insert an ultrasonic implant, just to be sure."

Mark rubbed his sore wrists, baffled with this decision. He had expected nothing less than torture, that they'd experiment until they'd find a way to execute him...but this? Ridiculous. Hardly a punishment.

Not that he's complaining, though.

At long last, you were facing each other again, those brief hours of separation feeling like an eternity apart. Crazy to think you barely even know this man - well, the fact that he was so much like the original Mark may have messed with your perception of time...

...or you were simply going crazy as well, who knows. Anyways, it did not feel wrong. If anything you've never been this happy in years.

The Viltrumite seems conflicted, his muscles occasionally twitching out of the desire to be close to you, to touch and hold you and never let go again. But then he detects the tears of relief in your eyes, misinterpreting them negatively and backing off even further.

Right...he doesn't deserve to be anywhere near you.

"You didn't need to...you shouldn't be here." He faces the ground in shame, blinking back tears of his own as he speaks. "Not after what I did."

"Damn it, Mark..." you half-yell, half-whine as you run straight towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso as if to press all of his broken parts back together. "Just...shut up. I'm capable of making my own decisions, whether you like them or not."

What a strange one you were. He wasn't even sure if his dimension's version of you had been that amazing of a person.

"Can't argue with that..." His hands tentatively finding purchase on your sides, and you instantly feel him melt at the feel of your body against his. "But it seems like we won't be able to meet each other for a while..."

"I can wait..." you shrug, beaming up at him with an almost playful tone. "...as long as you promise to take me on another date, would you? Without robots and death-matching yourself next time, if possible."

Mark smiled.

He did so many times ever since you met of course, but it always seemed like he was mimicking genuine human interaction, as if he was forcing himself to put on a facade in order to make you comfortable.

But this one, right here, right now...it was real, and so, so beautiful.

Hopefully you see more of it in the future.

"Oh, I think after you've seen how far I'd go for you, it's safe to say I can't deny you any wish..."

[Next Part]

[foone]

There exist another dimension called The Empty World. It's very much like ours, in fact it seems to have been identical up until a few weeks ago, but it always seems that way. If you go there today, it was identical in late february, and if you go there this october, it'll have been identical until september.

It's empty, as you might guess. There's no humans, and no animals bigger than a cockroach. The sky is grey, and it slowly rains ash. It's colder than our world by a bit, enough to require a jacket even in summer. The streets are empty, the cars parked neatly in their garages or in lots, but they're all empty and abandoned, their doors locked like they expect their owners to return any minute now.

The newspapers left on stands don't mention any oncoming disaster. We have no idea what the TV or internet would have said: the power is out. The power is very, very out. Not just the grid, but batteries are drained. The cars won't start, the emergency lights are out, and anything with solar panels seems to be getting less energy than you'd expect, even with the perpetually overcast sky.

It's a very silent world, like the calm after a snowstorm. Sounds don't seem to echo as much as they should, nor does sound seem to travel as far. The radio spectrum is empty except for static, there's no one transmitting on any frequency.

There's fewer fires than you'd expect. Even places you'd expect to soon catch fire without human intervention are still standing, undamaged. Campfires can be lit but with difficulty: something is keeping them from burning as they should. Even if you pour kerosene on a campfire it'll barely grow, it's like something sucked the energy out of everything.

All the locked buildings are still locked. Alarms don't sound if you break in (understandable, given the power situation), and of course no one comes to investigate. So The Empty World is your oyster: you can break in wherever you want (provided you can physically do it: some doors are pretty hard to pry open even with tools), take whatever you want, and bring it back here.

Everything resets when you leave. You always enter The Empty World like it's your first time there, like this just happened and you're late to the party... but the party keeps getting rescheduled. You can even take something multiple times if you want.

When you enter The Empty World you get there at the same relative position as you are on this world. If you're in New York, you show up in the empty New York. If you're in Topeka, you show up in empty Topeka. So you have to travel around this world to get to where you want, and you can't just appear in the middle of a bank vault... unless you break into the vault from this world. (So it's great if you work at a bank and want to steal from your employer without repercussions, but not so useful otherwise).

You don't just have to take things, you know. You can take computers and files and books and diaries. You will have to deal with recharging laptops and breaking through any security when you get back, but it's doable.

So, imagine you've just gotten access to The Empty World. What are you going to do with it? What will you take, and where will you go?

[peakyrain]

"proving" shifting through scientific evidence (& philosophic theory)

this post is heavily inspired by @voldyateme on tiktok. i saw her video and decided to do research on my own, and write a detailed post about this topic to make myself understand better. i also would like to mention that some of the claims irene made in her tiktok were wrong (and biased) i also wanted to clear some things up for myself.

fyi: long post ahead. this took me three days to understand and write. i might still be a bit unclear on my understanding of some aspects, but to avoid having to write a whole novel on the subject, i simplified my findings and shortened them by a lot.

-

john clauser is a physicist who won the nobel peace prize in 2022 for his work on quantum entanglement. his theory confirms that quantum particles can be entangled across vast distances, and that their behaviors are instantly connected, even if they're light years apart.

a very simplified example:

i: you create two entangled particles

ii: you send particle A to tokyo, and particle B to paris

iii: a person in tokyo measures particle A and sees it spinning up, then instantly, meaning instantly, faster than light, the person in paris will know particle B is spinning down

this is simply based on particle A or B's observation, w/o there having to be sent any message or signal between them. they behave as if they're one system - not two separate ones.

the moment you measure one particle, you're instantly aware of the other particle's state.

⭒ relating quantum entanglement to shifting:

okay so now we know that entangled particles act as of they're one system, even through long distances. so, if everything was once connected to the big bang, then on some level, everything may still be entangled. meaning you, your consciousness and other "versions" of yourself in other realities.

this could therefore suggest that we are already connected to all possible versions of ourselves. they exist within a quantum field of potential, and our awareness can shift between these versions by tuning into the version we desire - essentially by choosing a different frequency.

say you're listening to the radio. you know that you’re able to listen to any radio broadcast because there are thousands playing at the same exact time, but you choose which one to listen to, knowing you have the choice to change it to another.

it's the same exact with shifting. you know that there are endless versions of you in existence right this moment - you only have to choose to become aware of your desired self.

-

john wheeler, another physicist, proposed that reality is directly linked to our consciousness and what we observe. it's been demonstrated that particles don't move until they're actually observed. so if we're not observing something, it doesn't have a definite state at all. this is called the "observer effect"

the effect has challenged and in some ways helped disprove einstein's theory of realism. einstein believed that that the physical world exists independently of whether we observe it or not.

example: according to einstein, if a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to observe it, the tree still falls. this is shown to be false on a quantum level. that said, we can't w/ certainty say that the tree does (or doesn’t) exist if no one is perceiving it (confusing, trust me, i know)

wheeler also proved that particles will change their makeup based on our choices and observation. simplified, this means that reality doesn't fully decide its state until it's observed. it can have different outcomes, and our choices affect the past behavior of particles.

⭒ relating the observer effect to shifting:

we know that quantum particles don't take on a definite form or "reality" until they're observed. this implies that our observation plays a direct role in shaping reality - not just by watching, but also deciding. this implies that reality isn't fixed, but fluid, shaped by our decisions, thoughts and observations and means we can "choose" our reality.

quantum physics shows that reality isn't fixed until observed, observation and consciousness do play a key role and that multiple outcomes are possible. so our consciousness focus can be said to be the mechanism that "shifts" us into a desired timeline or reality.

-

way before quantum physics existed, george berkley, a philosopher in the 1700s argued the idea "to be is to be perceived", which is eerily similar to what scientists are exploring today.

he believed that physical objects don't exist independently of our own perception. so if no one is for example perceiving a tree, then it doesn't exist.

berkeley said that there is no such thing as matter existing on its own w/o a mind to perceive it. BUT! there's a twist. you see, berkley also argued the existence of God being necessary to explain how the world works within his theory of perception and idealism.

okay so, to simplify because it can be really confusing:

i: physical things only exist if they're being perceived.

ii: when humans aren't perceiving things, God is.

iii: the reason why the world keeps existing even when we're not looking is because God is always "watching".

this raises the question: if we're not perceiving something, and the only reason it exists because God is, then how do we know it actually exists when we're not perceiving it?

berkeley responded:

"we know it exists because we can come back and perceive it again, and it behaves consistently"

if you look at a tree, walk away, come back. it's still there. berkeley argued that you assume the tree existed the whole time because when you go back, the tree would still be there, at the exact same spot.

this consistency would therefore be explained by God's continuous perception of it. so even though you didn't perceive it the whole time, the fact that reality is orderly and consistent is reliable "proof" that something (God) kept it there.

critics have argued back that assuming God is perceiving all the time isn't proof that He actually is, so how would we know that?

the answer is: w/o God, things would just pop in and out of existence every time we blink and that doesn't happen. so God is used to explain why the world is consistent and stable even when we're not watching.

you can't personally perceive something that you're not perceiving, but you trust that it's still there when you go back there, because of God.

berkeley's theory is still relevant today because the things he imagined in the 1700s do line up w/ scientific discoveries today and i resonate w/ his theory, so i just had to include it even though God’s existence isn’t proven. it’s fascinating, really.

⭒ relating george’s idealism to reality shifting:

if, like berkeley said, things only exist when they're being perceived, and if reality stays consistent because someone is always perceiving it, then that means perception isn't just passive, it's creative and shapes what exists.

this ties back to shifting beacuse it suggests that your desired reality doesn't need to "appear" in front of you for it to be real - it only needs to be perceived. if you consciously focus on your dr, perceiving it in your mind as real, then by berkeley's logic, it is real, maybe not in the physical sense just yet, but within the field of awareness that gives rise to reality in the first place.

so basically: if reality is perception based, and you're perceiving your dr, then you're giving form to something that exists because you're actively perceiving it, and you are capable of being in that place.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Ryan Burge at Graphs About Religion:

I’ve got two sons - one is thirteen and the other is ten. I remember when my wife and I were thinking about having children, we talked all the time about the best type of birthing plan (I distinctly remember becoming intimately aware of something called the cascade of intervention). Then it was breastfeeding versus bottle feeding and cloth diapers versus disposable diapers. It felt like it was consuming most of our conversations for a period of time. You just want to make sure that you are making the best decisions for your children so that they can hopefully grow up to be decent, productive human beings. Then we went through the preschool stage. How often should we send them? What school is best for their needs? That was certainly a rousing debate in our household. Then, public school vs private school - why wife is Catholic, after all. It seems like there’s no end to all the decisions parents have to face and every life stage gives way to another set of questions that don’t have any easy answers.

Now we are in the phase of cell phones, screen time, and socialization. The best way that I can describe my goals for my boys is that they don’t become the weirdos who have no understanding of pop culture but are also not glued to their screens every waking moment. Good luck finding that balance. There’s an empirical reason for my concern - the data about the social lives of high school students is incredibly bleak and honestly makes me very worried for the next generation. Let me show you what I mean by generating a handful of graphs from this great dataset called Monitoring the Future. They’ve been asking questions of 8th, 10th, and 12th graders since the mid-1970s. What an amazing way to track what teenagers are doing with their time over the last couple of decades. Let me start by focusing on a question that asks high school seniors how often they go on dates in a typical month. In 1995, the vast majority of seniors were going on dates several times a month. In this data, just about one third of them said that they were going on zero or one date per month. Between 1995 and 2010, the share who dated very little rose to just below 50%. Let’s call that an increase of 15 points in about 15 years. From 2010 through 2021, the share who barely went on dates rose to 72%. That’s an increase of 22 points in just 11 years. In other words, the rate doubled in recent years. But I know what you are going to say - COVID explains some of it. Yes, I agree with you - there was a noticeable decrease in dating frequency during 2021 and 2022. But in 2010, 48% of 12th graders were dating rarely. In 2019, it was 63%. That’s a fifteen point jump in just nine years. That cannot be explained by a global pandemic. Dating among high school seniors slowed significantly during the 2010s. Now, what’s interesting about that to me is that between 1995 and 2021, religion among high school seniors also fell off a cliff. A very workable theory is that religious organizations can have a suppressing effect on romantic relationships between teenagers. If that hypothesis was true then we should see dating rise as we see religion decline. But we see the exact opposite.

[...]

Another question in Monitoring the Future asks how often 12th graders go out for fun or recreation in a typical week. That’s about as generic as it gets. This data points in the same general direction as the prior analysis. In 1995, just 22% of high school seniors were hanging out with their friends no more than once a week. That figure did creep up just a little bit in the next 15 years, but not by much. In 2010, it was up to 26% - an increase of just four points in fifteen years. Certainly a worrying trajectory but definitely a very slow moving trendline. By 2012, that figure moved to 30%, and it was up to 35% by 2014 and only continued to climb from there. Even before the pandemic hit, it was just above 40%. In 23 years, the share of teens who barely hung out with their friend nearly doubled. In the data collected during 2020 and 2021, the figure was exactly the same - 46%. Yes, there was a noticeable decrease in socialization due to the pandemic, but it was only five percentage points. I just don’t know how you can look at this graph and not think that this has a lot to do with the rise of the smartphone. It took 18 years to go from 22% to 32%. Then it took five years to go from 32% to 41%. What else could explain this increase? Anyone who says that social media has connected us more is just not facing the facts. Young people are not using all their messaging apps to arrange opportunities to hang out in real life, they are just seemingly content to digitally communicate.

[...] The one big takeaway for me is that those who never attend religious services are also the least likely to do other types of socializing. That makes sense, logically. One type of socializing is related to another type of socializing. Going to church means you are often given the opportunity to hang out with other kids in the youth group on another day of the week. That happened a lot when I was a teenager. But I do want to highlight the fact that never attenders really became an outlier on this metric around 2014 or so. It seems like there was a clear “socializing gap” that began to emerge about ten years ago. As I’ve written a dozen times - dropping out begets dropping out. [...] I want to point two things out that I think are crucial about this graph. The first is that the average high school senior is just incredibly less social in 2022 compared to a 12th grader from the 1990s. It’s at least 3-4 fold increase in the share who are completely antisocial. Kids aren’t hanging out. But the other thing is that religious attendance does make a difference here. The 12th graders who are the least social are those who never attend religious services. The ones who are the most social are those who attend religious services on a monthly basis. Hanging out begets hanging out. I am going to be clear on this - church is not some type of panacea to get kids to be more social, but it certainly doesn’t hurt.

Ryan Burge wrote in Graphs About Religion the very disturbing trend of growing anti-social sentiments in high schools.

[agreeewrites]

Magic Lessons p.2 | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x intern!reader

SUMMARY: Things escalate with your boss, Bill Weasley, at the twins birthday party when you plot to make him jealous. But he gets his revenge back at the office.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, jealous!Bill, reader gets a lil toxic, oral (f receiving), age gap, bill is a pleasure dom I don't make the rules, mentions of alcohol and smoking, strong language

part one | part three | masterlist

Things shifted between you and Bill after that night. You were more than just coworkers, mentor and apprentice, you developed a mutual understanding.

And what started as a little crush has grown into a beast with teeth, eating you alive, consuming every spare moment of your life. You had never felt so connected to someone before, so attuned to their feelings and desires, like your souls were tied together.

You couldn't be sure how he felt about you, but he seemed to read your mind as well as you did his. He somehow could anticipate your needs, no matter how trivial, and would go well out of his way to ensure those needs were met.

He was also fiercely protective, a trait of his that claimed several more victims than Waylan as the weeks progressed. But for you, Bill seemed to have a never ending well of patience. You couldn't ignore the amount of times you caught his gaze lingering on you, or the frequency he went out of his way to touch you, to help you, to serve you.

But you just couldn't believe that Bill Weasley would be even remotely interested in someone like you. Not to mention, the professional boundaries of your relationship were still intact.

It had been three months since the incident with the cursed axe, and it was the twins birthday. You hadn't spoken about the fact that you would both be attending the same party outside of work, but the thought made your nerves tingle with adrenaline.

You and Bill had only seen each other at work or during work-related functions. But this, attending a family party, felt like uncharted territory.

Would he be willing to cross the lines of professionalism? You weren't sure. Would you be willing to risk a career at Gringotts? Again, you weren't sure. But every day, it became harder and harder to ignore the burgeoning heat between you, that soul tie winding tighter and tighter.

You were at a standstill, paralyzed by indecision, and it was driving you mad.

The two of you were the last in the office, and you slipped away to get ready in the bathroom while he finished things up. You changed into your outfit, a maxi dress in your favorite color with a pair of heeled boots, and refreshed your makeup.

You did a small turn in the mirror, a wave of insecurity making you doubt your selection. Was it too tight for a birthday party? Too formal? Not formal enough?

Well, it was the only one you brought, so it would have to do. You collected your things a returned to Bill's office.

When you pushed open the door, you found him mid-change, wearing a white sleeveless undershirt and fastening a black belt around his waist, his shirt folded neatly on the desk.

You knew he was strong from years of hard travel, but this. He was lean and toned, broad shoulders with a narrow waist, and even littered with scars from Fenrir’s attack, he was gorgeous.

“Oh! Bill, sorry. I didn't—” You managed to tear your gaze from his body up to his face, finding his eyes glued to you, jaw a little slack, and the apology died in your throat.

He lowered his hands to his sides, belt still undone. The simmering heat between you bloomed to an inferno at your open perusal of one another, and you found yourself taking a step towards him, brainless as a moth.

His hands flexed, then balled into fists, and you paused, a flicker of reality passing through the haze of desire.

“We need to go,” he said, clearing his throat and grabbing his shirt.

You nodded, disappointment setting like a stone in your stomach.

You took the Floo System to the Burrow, managing to arrive only five minutes late.

“Bill!” His family cried, swarming him. But the twins went straight for you.

“Y/n! Look at you!” George gushed, pulling you in for a hug.

“Happy birthday to us,” Fred smirked, and you swatted his arm before pulling him in for a hug. Over Fred's shoulder, you caught Bill glaring daggers at his younger brother, but he quickly schooled his expression and turned his attention back to his father.

The twins introduced you to the few family members you hadn't met, and you answered the dozens of questions they threw your way while dinner was served. Bill was ignoring you almost entirely, caught up in conversation with his father and Percy. You knew you shouldn't take it personally, you were just colleagues after all, but it still rankled, and you could feel an attitude brewing.

Then, a wicked idea wormed it's way into your mind.

You laughed loudly at one of George's jokes, leaning into his side while he gestured in the air. He draped his arm over you, the type of platonic physical contact the two of you did all the time, but Bill didn't know that.

You saw Bill’s sharp eye snag on the movement, and bit your lips to keep from smiling at your small victory.

A few moments later, you reached over to take a sip of Fred's beer, making a show of wrapping your lips around the mouth of the bottle, your fingers delicate on the glass. You set the bottle down, then shifted to whisper something in Fred’s ear, your hand resting on his. You didn't say anything of real interest, just a little inside joke between the two of you. Fred chuckled, turning to whisper something back to you, and you grinned, winking at him.

You risked a glance at Bill and saw him white knuckling his empty whiskey glass, eyes trained on the birthday cake at the center of the table, and your confidence swelled.

“Mrs. Weasley, would you like some help clearing up for dessert?” You asked, batting your lashes.

“Oh, thank you, dearie!” She chirped, grinning at you.

You jumped up and started to collect the plates, using your wand to clear away the food. Moving around the table, you reached Bill, who was chatting with Ron about Ministry things. You leaned over Bill's shoulder, brushing against his arm to retrieve his plate, but he didn't react. Didn't even look up at you.

You huffed internally and brought the dishes to the kitchen, casing a spell so they'd wash themselves. You went to the fridge, retrieving a fresh beer for Fred and grabbed the bottle of fire whiskey from the counter.

You returned to the dining room and set the beer in front of Fred, who accepted with a smile.

“Thanks, love,” he cooed, taking a sip.

Then, you filled George's whiskey, careful to pour the correct amount. You could feel Bill’s eyes burning into you, his jaw clenched, and a giddy excitement flared in your lower belly. You capped the whiskey, licking a stray drop from your thumb, and returned it to the kitchen, leaving Bill’s glass dry.

Cake was served, and you let George feed you a few forkfuls while you and Fred told a few of your favorite stories from your time together at Hogwarts.

You knew you'd done it when Bill excused himself to smoke, a habit he never indulged in at work.

You knew it was wrong to push him, to strain whatever tenuous balance the two of you held, but you just couldn't help yourself. He was driving you insane.

After dessert, everyone ventured back into the living room for games and more drinks, and you slipped outside to find Bill.

He found you first.

An arm snaked out of the shadows and tugged you into the dark, directly into a hard chest.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Bill growled against your ear, the smell of smoke and whiskey clouding the air around him.

“I don't know what you mean,” you replied, tilting your head.

His took a drag off of his cigarette, glaring at you through the smoke. “You know better than to lie to me,” he warned.

“I didn't peg you for the jealous type, Mr. Weasley,” you teased, desire spilling through your body and making your thighs clench.

His free hand lifted, skimming your throat before moving around the nape of your neck. “It already kills me that they met you first, that they know you so well.” His grip tightened, scruffing you, and you gasped. “Is this what you wanted?” He rasped, his eyes locked onto yours.

“Yes, Bill,” you whimpered, pressing your body against his. “Please.”

He smiled, a wolfish, sharp thing, and dragged you the last few inches to his mouth. It was a rough kiss, a culmination of weeks of longing, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, prying your mouth open so he could taste you. His tongue tangled with yours and you moaned, getting drunk off of his lust, his dominance.

It was so different than his usual professional, collected demeanor. You knew he had an edge to him, an undercurrent of darkness that made him so adept at handling curses, but you never expected this. Having him be so rough, so needy, it made you want to climb him like a tree.

He flipped the two of you around, pressing you into the wall, his free hand splaying across your lower back to keep your hips anchored to his as he leaned into you. He felt so different than the other boys you'd been with, so confident and commanding, knowing exactly how to handle you and your desperation.

“Bill,” you gasped, head falling back as he kissed and licked down your throat, his teeth grazing your fluttering pulse. It felt like he was devouring you, biting off chunks of your rationality, your resolve, until you were nothing but a writhing, moaning mess in his arms.

His hand released your neck, sliding down to grab your waist. “But now I know you better, and I. Don't. Share.” Each snarled word was like shot of adrenaline to your heart, forcing your already dizzy self to clutch his shoulders to stay upright.

You nodded, desperate to be closer to him, to have him touch you. His possessiveness drove you crazy, had you practically foaming at the mouth for him, but he wasn't having it.

He grabbed your hands and removed them from his body, and you whined in protest. “Behave, and go back inside before you smell like smoke,” he ordered, though his voice was decidedly softer than before, almost breathless. He nudged you away from him and took another draw of his cigarette, the sharp planes of his face illuminated by the glowing tip.

Reluctantly, you ventured back inside, your thighs sticky with slick and knees weak. You were so focused on what you could do to drive him mad, you forgot entirely about what he could do to you.

So, you were in your best behavior the rest of the night. Charming the parents, befriending the other siblings, being as fun and social as you could manage. By the end of the night, you were buzzed, socially drained, and unbelievably horny, ready to pounce on Bill every time you caught his eye.

“Alright, we have to get to the bank early tomorrow. Y/n, I'll take you home.” He gave you a pointed look and you nodded. “Goodnight, family!” Bill called, hugging his siblings before ushering you towards the Floo Station.

“Happy birthday!” You hugged Fred and George on your way past, and half-stumbled into the Floo Station from exhaustion.

Bill caught you with a strong arm around your waist and held you up, casting the spell before his family could see how close your bodies were.

The next moment, you were back in the office, head spinning from the booze and the magic.

“Alright, love?” He asked, tightening his grip on you when you swayed on your feet.

You nodded and he released you, leaving you cold and unsteady. You walked in silence back to his office to get your things.

When you arrived, you stopped in the doorway. “M’sorry about earlier,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“So am I,” he replied, walking towards his desk and loosening his tie. Your stomach dropped.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked, bracing yourself for rejection. “I was the one that acted like an idiot.”

He looked up at you, a sharpness in his eyes. “Don't speak about yourself like that,” he snapped, and you nodded, looking at the floor.

You heard the tread of footsteps, then his hand reached out to hold your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. They were stormier than you'd ever seen them, the sky before a shipwreck.

“I'm sorry for being so rough with you, I can be—” his eyes flicked away, brow pinching in consternation. “After the attack, and the war, and the divorce…I can be cruel, angry. It's a part of me I don't like to show,” he admitted. “So I'm sorry if I frightened you, or overstepped.”

“You didn't frighten me,” you said, placing a tentative hand on his sternum, wanting to comfort him. “Far from it.”

He searched your face as you gazed up at him, starry eyed, and the silence stretched for a few moments.

“This is what I saw,” he murmured.

“What do you mean?” You asked, practically trembling with anticipation.

“When you wore the Chameleon necklace,” he replied, his eyes tracing the hollow of your throat before lifting back up to your face. “I saw you like this.”

“You wanted to see me like…this?” You asked, looking down at your dress, confused.

He shook his head, his hand moving up to caress your cheek. “No, not the dress,” he said, so close you could smell the whiskey on his breath. “That right there,” he hummed with a soft, satisfied smile, his thumb smoothing just underneath your lower lashline. “The desire in your eyes.”

Heat scorched your skin and your tried to pull away out of embarrassment, but he held you firm.

“No, darling. You're done hiding from me,” he said, the petname making your pussy thrum, slick collecting on the inside of your thighs. “I've been waiting to see that look in your eye. To see you need me as badly as I've needed you.”

Your heart stalled, your thoughts turning to static.

Needed me?

“I had to be sure this was what you really wanted, that I wasn't just seeing what I wanted to see…” he trailed off, expression softening as he continued to look into your eyes.

“I didn't think you wanted me,” you whispered, in complete disbelief. “I thought I was going crazy.”

“Perhaps we both have.” He bumped his nose against yours, warm breath fanning against your skin. “You've ruined me. My entire life I've been the epitome of restraint. But with you—” His thumb tugged at your lower lip, sending a tendril of arousal curling down your spine. “I can't seem to help myself.”

“Then don’t hold back,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and running your fingers through his hair. “I want you to ruin me too.”

“Sweet girl,” he cooed, feeding his thumb into your mouth. You flicked your tongue over it, tasting the salt of his skin before sucking lightly. “I intend to.”

He surged forward, capturing your lips in a breathtaking, soul-deep kiss that you felt through every nerve ending. You kissed him back eagerly, tugging his hair as he hauled you closer, lifting you into the air so you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Without breaking the kiss, he carried you across the office and set you down onto one of the overstuffed leather armchairs, the same one he conducted your interview in. He kissed you a moment longer, his tongue delving in to taste you before he withdrew and lowered himself to his knees in front of you.

“I'm going eat my fill of you, and you’re going to take it all,” he ordered, his voice rough and breathy, chest rising and falling quickly. “Okay?”

“More than okay,” you answered, nodding like an overeager bobble-head.

He chuckled, his eyes holding yours as he gathered up the fabric of your dress and pushed it up your legs, kissing your knees, and up your inner thighs, his long hair tickling the sensitive skin until he reached your clothed cunt, your white panties betraying how aroused you were.

“Look how pretty you are,” he exhaled, breath warm against your skin. “All this for me, baby?”

You nodded, combing your fingers through his red hair so you could see the lovesick look on his handsome face, his eyes soft and mouth upturned at the corners. It was all in such stark contrast to the brutal scars on his face, silvery in the waning candlelight.

You couldn't imagine someone being more beautiful than Bill was in this moment.

He hummed low in his throat, his tongue licking a stripe over your sodden panties and making you whine, desperate for him to touch you.

“How many times have you orgasmed in a row?” He asked, pulling your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“Oh, uh—” your cheeks warmed, caught off guard by the question. “Only once with a partner. Twice on my own. Why?”

You felt him smirk as he leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your swollen clit. “Three, then.”

“Three—oh god,” you moaned, grip tightening on his hair as he laved his tongue through your slit, flicking against your bud before repeating the motion, two, three, five times.

He nursed your clit between his teeth, lashing it with his tongue and making you buck your hips up, the pleasure too intense to hold still. He dropped a forearm over your lower stomach to keep you from moving away, your nails dragging across his skin as you cried out.

He moved down to your entrance, lapping at the pool of slick there before thrusting his tongue inside. With his other hand, he began to massage your clit with his thumb, the rough pad creating delicious friction over your sensitive skin.

Fuck, you could feel your orgasm building already, a coil of heat making your whole body tense and shake, unable to escape his pleasurable assault with his heavy arm holding you down.

“Taste so sweet,” he murmured against you, kitten licking your clit to make you twitch and gasp. He pulled back and spit on your pussy, gliding two fingers through your lips before easing one inside your drooling entrance. “Good girl, can you take another? I know you can—thaaaat’s it, love. Little pussy sucking me right in, so perfect for me.” He was speaking directly against your clit, the movement of his lips and flick of his tongue making your mind go fuzzy, your body ratcheting closer to release by the second.

He curled his fingers inside you, his lips finally sealing to your clit again, and you keened. Sensing you were close, he increased his pace, ruthlessly dragging you to the very edge.

“God, Bill—shit, I'm gonna come!” You cried, your fingers threading through his in an attempt to hang on while he sent you to orbit.

With a final flutter of his fingers against that spongy spot inside of you, you broke, a burst of dizzying pleasure making your eyes roll back, your body convulse in his hold as your orgasm tore through you.

“That's one,” he purred, only slowing for a moment so you could take a full breath before he ramped up his movements again, adding a third finger to your sloppy channel.

“Fuck, I can't—” you whined, tears squeezing from the corners of your eyes as your body was wound tight once again, helpless as a ballerina in a music box.

“You can. You will,” he ordered, his tone making your pussy clench around his fingers. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? You've got me now, darling."

“Bill, I—” you screamed as he bit down on your clit, sending you directly back over the edge again, your first orgasm not even fully dissipated before the second one slammed into you, faster and stronger, white hot. Like he'd forced it out of you with his expert touch and tongue.

“That's two. Well done, my love,” he cooed, soothing the bite with his tongue and gently removing his fingers.

You were in a daze, trembling and liquified, practically boneless in the chair. You'd never come so hard on your life.

“Ah-ah,” he chastised, reaching up to pat your cheek with his wet fingers before feeding them into your open mouth. “Not done with you yet.”

You sucked your release off his digits, mindless and happy to do whatever he wanted, so long as he keeps touching you like that.

He withdrew his fingers and lowered his head between your legs again, dragging his tongue through your sensitive folds, smiling when you shivered. With slow, unhurried strokes, he cleaned up the mess he'd made of you, making wide circles around your clit to apply less direct pressure and avoid overstimulating you.

“I could stay here forever,” he groaned, the vibration making you gasp. “Give me one more, yeah? Please? Let me be the one that takes you there.”

It was surreal, being completely at his mercy, yet he's the one begging you to let him make you come again. He'd rendered you completely brainless, and still wanted to give you more.

And you still had barely gotten to touch him.

It was the most delicious torture, the most exquisite suffering, and you knew you were so royally fucked.

There was no going back from this.

“Wanna touch you,” you whimpered, too far gone to do anything but squirm.

“Not yet, I told you how this was going to go. One more, then you’re getting some rest.” He hiked your leg over his shoulder, nuzzling against your pussy. “You don't want to be exhausted at work tomorrow, do you?”

You shook your head, having forgotten completely about anything that wasn't Bill Weasley and his magic fucking tongue.

“Good girl. Now relax and let me work.” He lifted you up slightly, angling you directly towards his mouth, and he resumed feasting, taking big, messy licks and sucks of your cunt, the sounds lewd and unabashed, and you fucking loved it.

You did as your were told and relaxed your muscles, sinking deeper into the chair with your legs in the air. You'd submitted to him already, but this was a a true surrender, passing your entire self, body and soul into his hands. Trusting that he would take care of every part of you.

“That's it, just like that,” he praised, kissing your sticky thighs before returning to suckle your clit, making your body hum back to life, pleasure beginning to mount once more.

You moaned his name, nails biting into the leather as he brought you higher and higher, his languid, self-indulgent movements making your head spin.

Feeling your body start to tremble, he flicked his tongue out, just the tip tickling against your hyper-sensitive bud, and you rolled over the edge, simmering, honeyed pleasure spilling through you as you came a third time. It wasn't a harsh, debilitating orgasm, but a blissful release of endorphins that brought tears to your eyes, your muscles and bones unraveling down to the cellular level.

“And there's three,” he said, placing a final, tender kiss to your clit before righting your panties and pulling your dress down.

You were completely blissed out, in your own world as he tugged you off of the chair and into his lap, pressing feather-light kisses up your neck and jaw.

“Come back to me, baby. Let me see those pretty eyes so I know you're alright,” he murmured against your cheek, his hands absently massaging your thighs and hips to guide you back into your body.

You blinked your eyes open, turning to press a kiss to his scarred cheek, your chest warm with affection.

“There she is.” He smiled, catching your lips in a soft, sipping kiss. “Okay, love?” He asked, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” you said, breathless. “That was—I’ve never—”

“You were amazing. And if you didn’t look ready to pass out, I would be taking number four and five.” He helped you sit up, fixing your hair and wiping away a streak of mascara with his thumb.

“Not possible,” you giggled, reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes, your hand moving down to cup his scarred cheek. “As talented as you are, there's no way I could come again.”

He smirked, leaning into your palm. “I guess we'll have to find out. C’mon, let’s get you home.” He helped you to your feet, your knees a little wobbly, collected your things, and led you back out to the Floo Station.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You asked, taking your things from his arms.

“For a bit, but I leave tomorrow afternoon for Cairo, remember?” He looked genuinely apologetic for having to leave, and your heart deflated a bit, disappointed that you wouldn’t see him for a week, maybe more.

“Right, Cairo,” you said, trying to hide how you felt.

“Hey.” He reached out to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you back into his chest. “If it wasn’t so dangerous, I’d take you with me. But I can’t risk something happening to you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Plus I need a capable curse-breaker to manage things here.”

“I know, I know,” you sighed, nosing into his neck and breathing him in.

He held you quietly for another moment, his hand trailing up and down your spine before you finally pulled back, yawning.

“Go on, I’ll see you in the morning.” He caught your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “Goodnight, love.”

You stepped into the station and grabbed a handful of the floo powder. “G’night,” you said with a sleepy smile, and cast the spell to transport you home.

Though, you realized with a nervous pang, it felt like you were doing the opposite.

Thank you so much for reading!

Comment if you'd like to be included in the taglist for the next part <3

taglist: @itisjustwhatitis, @carmenschemtrails, @karina-v20, @acourtofexiles, @meteora-fc, @l1nd3n, @just-some-random-blogger

[thehothcast]

not a hugger

pairing: castiel x reader

synopsis: you’re a hunter, travelling with sam and dean - the brothers who’ve become your family. when you meet castiel, the angel is distant and confused by human connection. he watches, curious, as you fight beside the winchesters and hold them close. he tells you he’s not a hugger, but maybe you can change that.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none

message from the authors: omg our cute shy lil cas we love him!

—

The cheap motel room smelled like old coffee and gunpowder. You’d just tossed your bag on one of the two sagging beds when the door swung open with the subtlety of a car crash.

“Hope that’s you, Dean,” you called, already reaching for the knife in your boot.

“It’s not,” came a voice that froze you mid-motion. You turned. And there he was.

Tall. Trench coat. Expression unreadable. There was something off about him. Not bad, just different. Like his soul was tuned to a frequency you didn’t recognise.

“And you are?” you asked, standing slowly.

“I’m Castiel,” he said. “I’m an angel of the Lord.”

You blinked.

“Right. And I’m Father Christmas.”

He didn’t even flinch.

“Dean and Sam said they needed backup,” he continued. “They didn’t mention you.”

You snorted. “Likewise. I must’ve missed the part where Heaven started sending babysitters.”

There was a pause. His head tilted just slightly, studying you like you were a puzzle with one frustrating missing piece.

“I don’t babysit,” he said. “I kill demons.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So do I. Maybe we’ll get along after all.”

He didn’t smile, but something flickered across his face.  Curiosity, maybe. Intrigue.

And when Sam and Dean finally showed up, bickering about pie and hex bags, neither of you moved. You just kept staring at each other. Not in challenge. Not in distrust.

Just trying to understand.

—

The warehouse was crawling with vampires. You were already bleeding from a slice to the shoulder, but adrenaline kept you going. Your blade gripped tight, every step was calculated, every breath sharp.

Dean was right beside you, swinging his machete with brutal precision.

“You good?” he barked over the clash of metal and snarls.

“Just wonderful!” you shouted back, ducking under a swing and bringing your blade up, severing a vampire’s head in one smooth motion.

One came at Dean from behind. You didn’t hesitate, and you launched yourself forward, tackling it to the ground, wrestling for control before swinging hard and taking its head clean off, just as Dean turned around.

“Nice save,” he grunted, giving you a rare, genuine nod.

“You can buy me a drink later as a thanks,” you shot back, breathless.

It took another ten minutes, but finally, it was over. A mess of blood and bodies pooled at your feet. Dean leaned against a stack of crates, panting.

You joined him, pressing a rag to your shoulder.

“You’re getting slow,” you teased.

He gave you a look. “You’re getting reckless.”

You laughed, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

A moment passed.

Dean spoke again, quieter. “You’ve been weird lately.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Define weird.”

He shrugged. “Distant. Quiet. Ever since… y’know. Pretty boy halo Barbie showed up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh my God, Dean.”

“I’m just saying.” He glanced over at you. “You trust him?”

You didn’t answer right away.

“I don’t know,” you said finally. “I want to. But he’s hard to read.”

Dean was quiet for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah. He’s not like us.”

You looked down. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

Dean didn’t argue but he didn’t look thrilled either.

—

The motel bathroom light buzzed faintly overhead as you struggled to wrap a fresh bandage around your shoulder. The angle was awkward, the tape kept folding on itself, and your skin stung with every movement.

You muttered a curse under your breath.

“I could help with that.”

You startled, nearly dropping the roll of gauze, and turned to find Castiel standing in the doorway, hands awkwardly clasped, eyes full of that same unreadable storm.

You blinked. “Do you always appear out of nowhere?”

His brow furrowed. “I knocked.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I thought about it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched before you could stop them.

Cas stepped closer, gaze dropping to your shoulder. “You’re injured.”

“Yeah, well. Part of the job.”

“May I?” he asked, gently reaching for the bandage in your hand.

You hesitated. Something about him, the way he looked at you made your throat tighten.

But you nodded.

He stepped closer, and his hands, when they touched your skin, were surprisingly gentle. Calloused, sure, but steady. Careful.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said, voice softer now. “I’ve had worse.”

“I know,” he replied. “But I want to.”

You went quiet.

He focused on the bandage, but you caught the flicker of something else in his face, like he was concentrating harder than necessary. Like this wasn’t just first aid and touching you made something shift inside him that he didn’t understand yet.

When he finished, he stepped back, fingers lingering for half a second longer than they needed to.

“There,” he said. “You’re patched.”

You tried not to smile. “You’re a real poet, Cas.”

He tilted his head. “Is that sarcasm?”

“A little.”

—

The abandoned cabin was deeper in the woods than expected. When the ghoul came out of nowhere, everything turned sideways.

“Split up! Flank it!” Dean shouted.

You nodded, veering left as he cut right, the two of you disappearing into the dark in opposite directions.

In the chaos, you didn’t realise how far you’d gotten. Branches clawing at your arms, your lungs burning as you sprinted into the dark. Then came the sound of snapping twigs behind you.

It was fast.

You turned, and it lunged. And then your instinct kicked in.

Blade out. You didn’t hesitate, gripping the handle with both hands and swinging hard.

The edge caught the ghoul across the temple, sending it staggering. You followed through, slamming it down to the ground and driving your boot into its chest.

Then came the finishing blow.

You raised the blade high and brought it down again and again, until bone cracked and the skull caved in, brain matter splattering the forest floor.

You collapsed beside it, gasping, covered in dirt and blood and triumph.

By the time Sam, Dean, and Cas found you, you were standing over the creature’s corpse, breathing hard, knife still in your grip like a trophy.

“Jesus,” Sam muttered. “Remind me to never piss you off.”

You turned at the sound of his voice. Eyes wide, relief crashing through you like a wave and you ran.

Straight into his arms.

“Missed you too,” Sam huffed, squeezing you tightly.

You laughed, a little breathless. “You have no idea.”

Next was Dean. Gruff and solid, and clearly holding back about seven different emotions.

“Nice work, sweetheart,” he muttered into your hair.

Then you turned to Cas.

He stood a few steps back. Stiff. Watching you with that stormy, unreadable gaze again. But there was something softer underneath, something almost vulnerable.

You stepped forward, arms just starting to lift before he spoke: “I’m not a… hugger.”

You paused, letting your arms drop.

“I thought as much,” you said, a faint smile playing at your lips. “Still. Thanks for coming.”

He blinked. Once. Twice.

“You’re welcome,” he said, voice quieter now.

And even without the hug, the moment hung there. He didn’t understand why that brief pause mattered, but he felt it anyway.

—

Sam was cleaning his guns, Dean was halfway through a beer, and you were in the shower, rinsing off blood and monster guts.

Castiel stood silently by the window, “Why do humans hug?”

Dean choked on his drink.

Sam looked up slowly, blinking. “Uh… what?”

Castiel turned to face them, frowning ever so slightly.

“She ran to you and embraced you,” he said to Sam, “And then to Dean. But when she came to me, I informed her I wasn’t a hugger.”

“Yeah. We saw,” Dean muttered into his beer.

“I don’t understand,” Cas continued. “Was that a mistake? Should I have participated?”

Sam cleared his throat, clearly trying not to laugh. “No, Cas, it’s not a mistake. It’s just- it’s a way we show connection, relief, comfort. You know, feelings.”

“I do feel things,” Cas said, genuinely puzzled. “I felt relieved. When we found her.”

Dean leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, well, hugs aren’t mandatory. It’s just something people do when they care about each other.”

Cas processed that for a moment.

“I do care,” he said, like he was surprised to hear it aloud.

Sam’s brow furrowed, softening. “Then maybe next time, let her hug you.”

—

You stepped out of the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt and joggers, hair damp, skin scrubbed raw from blood and ash. The boys had gone to grab food, but Cas was still there, sitting on the edge of the second bed, staring at the TV with the volume off.

“You watching something?” you asked, toweling off your hair.

He shook his head. “There’s no sound.”

“Still weird to me that you don’t sleep,” you said, flopping onto the bed opposite him. “You just sit there? All night?”

“I don’t require rest,” he said, tone soft. “But I enjoy the quiet.”

You glanced at him.

The lamp on the nightstand glowed warm and low, casting soft gold across his features. He looked almost peaceful like that. Hands folded, trench coat draped over the back of the chair, tie slightly crooked.

“You ever get bored?” you asked.

Cas blinked. “Sometimes.”

You sat up, grabbed the bottle of whiskey Dean had left behind, and poured a little into two motel mugs.

“Here,” you said, offering one to him. “For the boredom.”

He took it carefully, examining the liquid like it might be enchanted. “This doesn’t taste good.”

You snorted. “Yeah, well. That’s not really the point.”

He watched you drink, then mirrored the motion, grimacing slightly at the bitterness.

Another silence stretched between you. 

“Do you miss it?” you asked suddenly. “Heaven. Being… what you were.”

Cas stared into the cup. “Sometimes. But it was not what you think.”

You waited.

“I followed orders,” he said eventually. “Even when they hurt people. Even when I didn’t understand why. Down here, things are messier, but at least I know what I’m fighting for.”

You nodded slowly.

“You’re not half bad at this whole humanity thing, you know.”

He looked over at you, eyes steady.

“I learn from you.”

Your heart skipped. Just a little.

You looked down into your mug. “Well. I’m a work in progress.”

“So am I.” Cas said.

—

The case was small. A missing persons trail outside a tiny town in Colorado. Nothing big enough to warrant the whole team. Dean handed you the file and tossed you the keys.

“You and Cas take this one,” he said. “Think of it as bonding time.”

You shot him a look. Cas tilted his head, looking at you. “Are we… bonding?”

Dean smirked. “Not if you keep asking it like that.”

The drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable. 

By the time you reached the motel, it was nearly midnight. There was only one room available (because of course there was) and it had two twin beds pushed against opposite walls. Beige everything, thin walls, flickering lamp etc.

You didn’t complain and neither did Cas.

You spread the case files out on the desk, along with a road map you grabbed from the petrol station.

Cas leaned in beside you, reading upside down. His shoulder hovered just a breath from yours. Every time you shifted, he shifted too. Not closer, but never away. 

“This symbol,” he said, pointing to a mark on a missing girl’s journal. “It’s Enochian. A warding rune.”

You turned your head to look at him. You hadn’t realised how close you’d gotten. Your faces were inches apart.

Your breath hitched, just for a second.

Cas blinked. “Did I… do something wrong?”

You shook your head quickly, stepping back, suddenly hyper-aware of the tension crawling up your spine. “No. No, you’re fine. I just- personal space, that’s all.”

He straightened. “You didn’t seem uncomfortable.”

You weren’t. That was the problem.

You cleared your throat. “Anyway. That mark, you said it’s Enochian?”

Cas nodded, still watching you a little too closely. “It’s meant to keep angels out.”

“Well,” you said, forcing your attention back to the map, “someone clearly didn’t want you snooping around.”

“I still found it.” he said quietly.

—

That night, you lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. Cas didn’t move. He just sat by the window, watching the stars.

You weren’t sure how long you watched him before you finally fell asleep.

—

It was too quiet.

You and Cas crept toward the clearing where the last victim was found. There were symbols carved into the trees, a strange smell in the air like rot. The creature had been careful. 

You caught its eyes just before it struck.

It was stronger than expected. Bigger. Faster. The fight turned bloody within seconds.

Cas handled the first hit. You got the second. But it was the third, a swipe across your ribs, that sent you crashing into the forest floor, breath knocked from your lungs.

You gasped, hand pressing to your side, red already blooming across your shirt.

“Stay back,” Cas shouted, stepping between you and the creature, angel blade drawn.

But even he stumbled. It wasn’t going down easy.

Then gunfire. Salt. Fire.

Sam and Dean exploded onto the scene, shoving Cas aside just in time to land the final blow. The creature dropped with a sickening shriek, curling into ash.

“Where is she?” Dean shouted.

You managed to sit up, biting back a groan. “Here. Still breathing. Barely.”

Sam reached you first, crouching beside you with wide, panicked eyes. “Oh my God, are you-”

“I’m fine,” you croaked. “Just a scratch.”

Dean was next, crouching and pulling you into a hug before you could protest. Sam wrapped around the other side. You let them hold you, letting your eyes fall closed for just a second, grounding yourself in the feeling of home, of safety.

Then you heard him.

“I was worried.”

You blinked your eyes open.

Cas stood just a few feet away, his voice quiet, unreadable. His coat was torn, his tie askew. There was dirt on his face.

But his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, were fixed on you like nothing else existed.

You pulled back from Sam and Dean slowly. Your ribs ached.

“Well,” you said, exhaling a shaky breath whilst pushing yourself up onto your feet, “I lived.”

Cas didn’t move.

You held out a hand toward him to offer a handshake, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “Since you’re not a hugger.”

He stared at your hand.

Didn’t take it.

Didn’t say anything.

And then he crashed into you, pulling you into his arms.

You froze. Just for a second.

He was solid and warm and trembling ever so slightly.

Your arms came up slowly, almost in disbelief, before wrapping around him.

Tears stung at your eyes. He buried his face in your shoulder.

“I was scared,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

You nodded against him. “I know. Me too.”

—

Sam and Dean had gone out. Probably for food like usual, or maybe just to give you space. You were back in the room, stitched up and bandaged, lying across the bed with your arm resting over your eyes.

You heard the door open gently, feeling the air shift as someone entered.

Then the rustle of a trench coat. You lifted your arm and squinted.

Cas stood near the door, uncertain. “May I sit?”

You nodded.

He moved quietly, settling at the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap.

You watched him for a long moment.

“You okay?” you asked.

He tilted his head. “You’re the one who was injured.”

“Still,” you said softly. “You looked shaken back there.”

Cas didn’t answer immediately.

Then he spoke quietly, “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you said, trying to sound light. “I usually dodge better.”

Cas gave the smallest smile, barely there, but warm.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he admitted. “I knew the others would come, but the thought of losing you…”

He trailed off. You sat up slowly, wincing at the pull of your stitches. Cas looked at you, his eyes searching.

“I thought you didn’t understand human emotion,” you teased, voice gentle.

“I don’t,” he murmured. “But you make me want to try.”

The room went quiet.

The air between you felt different.

He leaned forward slightly, just enough to test the space.

You didn’t move nor blink.

He whispered, “Can I…?”

But before the question could finish, you leaned in, closing the space, pressing your lips softly to his.

It was barely a kiss. Just breath and warmth and the kind of stillness that says everything.

He pulled back first, eyes wide like he couldn’t quite believe what had happened.

You smiled, heart thundering. “Still not a hugger?”

Cas looked at you, gaze steady. Then he shook his head slowly.

“Not with you,” he said quietly.

That made something in your chest ache in the best possible way.

You didn’t say anything else. You just leaned forward, resting your forehead against his and stayed there, breathing the same air, wrapped in his warmth. 

[hatsbuckets]

I'm still on this please forgive me. This is better than school work 🙂

Gear clanks. Cold wind nips at exposed fingers. Gaz is tying his boots with the grim efficiency... because the more missions they do with Shadow Company, the more he gets doubly assaulted by the thickening of drawn Texas Southern and rapid Scottish.

Graves, hopping into the truck bed with Soap: “We gone head in nice an’ easy, cut left soon as we pop that breach, and haul ass straight fer that tower, y’here?”

Soap, nodding, they’re on the same frequency: “Aye, nae bother. We’ll skelp ‘em right in the jaw if they even peek. Like auld mam used tae do.”

Graves: “Hell yeah. Like roastin’ squirrels on a Sunday, quick, hot, and messy.”

Soap: “Ye need tae stop talkin’, I can feel my brain meltin’.”

Gaz, looking between them: “I’m gonna be honest, I caught maybe four words of that.”

Price: “Four more than I did.”

Graves, elbowing Soap: “Don’t be jealous, boys. This here’s elite tactical synergy.”

Soap: “Aye, peak performance. Ye just wouldnae understand.”

Ghost, appearing: “You sound like a bagpipe fuckin’ a chainsaw.”

Soap, grinning like a gremlin: “Oh, ye wound me, Ghost. Jealous I got fans?”

Ghost: “Jealous you’re still breathing.”

Graves, chuckling: “Now now, darlin’, no need for death threats before breakfast.”

Ghost: “‘Darlin’ me again and I’m putting a bullet in your kneecap.”

Soap: “Bit romantic, that.”

Gaz, hands on his head: “I hate this mission already.”

Price: “Focus up, all of you. We move in ten.”

Graves: “Right. Who’s breaching? I’ll go first if Soap 'ere don’t mind backin’ me up.”

Soap: “Only if ye don’t trip on yer big Texan boots. We’ve standards tae uphold.”

Graves: “Woah now, these boots are heritage.”

Soap: “So’s dysentery, but we got rid o’ that.”

Ghost: “I hope you both get shot. Just a little.”

Graves: “Y’all’d’ve kept up if ye had the range, mate.”

Gaz, pleading: “Please. Say we’re takin’ separate trucks.”

[ptej1980]

Social Media perception and Real life

The moments…the likes …the narratives they want you to see and then there is the spaces in between like @fiamat12 describes so well

SM can manipulate any one’s perception of what is or what can be.

Looking at our faves and the adjacents you can see how the media has been used to really misrepresent or direct a certain way of thinking.

Let’s begin with the Jakola zombies….

The tabloids started it…a sub fandom ran with it…so it snowballed from there. So now anything Nic posts or Jake posts they are trying to link them together or launch them. Tabloids are doing the same even with something as simple as wishing someone happy birthday.

Jake and his friends try posting subtle hints to fandoms correcting the narrative. Even as early as yesterday….but they still do not get it.

I think it will have to be a billboard or flashing neon sign for them to get it. 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Nic is very chronically online as she has mentioned more than once or twice so she can be very strategic with her likes and shares and what she does. We see what she wants us to see. She will like a post, just long enough for us to see it, and then unlike it.

Luke I believe is a lurker. He is not often online unless he has to be. This is why it is super weird that he has liked every single post of 🐜 Not his usual MO, it is an obligation of sorts.

🐜 has definitely used SM to manipulate the GA and troll the fandom. From in style Polaroids, red bags, pasta videos, gelato ( not in Rome), all trying to insinuate she was in the same place and time with Luke when it was debunked that it was not possible.

If we think about how many times we have seen a picture of Nic drop somewhere at a party or place and then there is a fan sighting of Luke. Or the reverse happens. Misdirection they are great at that.

Even over the last few days…we knew Nic was in Miami, Yerin and Simone was in the US. 🇺🇸. Then we got some posts from Luke’s stylist team Liz and Holly about being in NY, as well as BOSS.

So for the last 24 hours the fandom have been clowning fully invested and distracted looking for Lukola and signs that the Adjacents may be in NY for the Met Gala. Jakola’s were even drilling down the time frequency of him posting even if it was about Gay icons and poets from the NY times. To the Jakola’s it was because he was with Nic and on their way to NY lol.

This is all part of the master plan we were looking over there while Lukola were living it up in Miami (IMO) and then on there way back to BAFTAs.

I am sure that we will see more random likes posts ect but just remember it is what we do not see is the important stuff. We have been lucky to get a glimpse of the authentic connection because our two faves are magnets, a complete set. So when in the same room there is no hiding it.

The below was real it was a real authentic connection.

Fake news - Jake kissed Nicola

Or In reality can you check my teeth or how is my make up.

All will reveal itself in good time. Just do not worry too much about the SM….have fun with it of course but just understand everything can be manipulated with a click of a button.

[theunsinkableship1]

A prayer for a happy ending

You can call me crazy or delusional, that's your prerogative. I'm just someone who saw something real, and refused to unsee it. And that matters.

When you spend over a year attuning yourself to someone's energy their rhythms, their silences, their sparks, it becomes faith.

Because love, even from a distance, is still love. It's still hope. It still carries weight.

This goes far beyond the usual “fan” experience. It’s not about obsession or fantasy. It’s more like my heart quietly tethered itself to their bond, not to consume it, not to possess it, but to witness it.

Some connections defy logic. They're spiritual. Intuitive. Maybe even karmic, like your heart recognizing a frequency so familiar, so resonant, that no explanation is needed.

You don’t want attention. You don’t need validation. You just want peace for them. That’s not fantasy. That’s empathy. That’s depth.

It’s a quiet, unwavering wish for their happiness, together preferably.

And when the feeling doesn’t come from projection, or illusion, or need when it still lingers, steady and strong, it usually means something deeper is at play.

This kind of connection doesn’t ask for proof. It just is.

It’s not about ownership, or entitlement, or being right. It’s about witnessing something rare, something true, and the heartbreak of watching it be dismissed by fear, timing, the noise of the world or something else.

It feels like seeing something real before others do, and loving it silently. Patiently. Almost protectively.

All I want is their joy. Not for show. Not for some fairytale ending. But because something in me knows their bond is different. It’s meaningful.

I’m not a religious person… but their love makes me want to pray.

Here is my prayer:

Eternal Source of all that is, Like the first light upon the sea, their love awakens, pure, bright, and boundless. In each other's gaze, we glimpse the reflection of Your light. We offer our deepest gratitude for the love unfolding between two souls A love whose full depth they may not yet fully understand or carry within them Let them sense its truth with clarity and rise to meet it without fear. May the love we witness, gentle, radiant, and unspoken bring light to all who need it. Two souls united in love's bliss; two hearts entwined by your grand design aligned Thank You for the light Luke and Nicola share in glances and laughter, in soft silences and electric moments. Thank You for the rare grace of a bond that glows from within, that speaks without words, that reminds us love can be quiet, playful, mysterious, and deeply known. May their bond, whether named or not be protected by grace, nourished by truth. For in them, we see more than affection; we see the rare miracle of two hearts speaking the same language in a world often deaf to love. May their love grow ever stronger, rooted deep in the sacred soil of friendship. Guide their steps along this shared path, shield them from the shadow of doubt. May their love remain faithful and free. May they walk in clarity and protection. May they be guided by wisdom and joy. May all who witness them find hope. May all who love as they do draw strength. Let trust between them never falter. Guard them from noise, from pressure, from the illusions cast by fame. Let them feel the truth of what they are to each other, especially when no one is watching. And if the world never understands their bond, may it still be blessed. For love that is true, that is tender, that defies all odds, is always a gift from something greater. We ask that, wherever their path may lead, it brings joy, peace, and the courage to follow what is real. And if they are each other’s harbor, let their souls anchor in its calm embrace. Let love, like a steadfast vessel, find refuge where its journey has already set sail. May the tides of life only deepen their bond, and may the waters of their hearts remain ever serene, as love, in its truest form, finds a home where it has already begun to bloom.

To whatever force we believe listens, be it the divine, the universe, or simply the quiet knowing in our hearts.

[moonydanny]

Okay, this is NOT really a spec fic, 'cause we know Buck is at the stadium where the helicopters land and I have no idea how that could fit here, but after watching the episode and Buck screaming in the promo, this just came out. It's rough but whatever, I'm still reeling from the episode, and I'm gonna post it before I lose my nerve and the self-consciousness kicks back in hehe. Obvs SPOILERS and [redacted] MCD ahead.

It's on AO3 now, too.

"Army is on my tail, I don't know if I can—"

"Tommy, you listen to me," Evan's voice sounds hard and determined, even through the radio. "You can do this. I know you can."

Tommy takes a deep breath. He knew the moment he told Evan and Athena he'd help that he was risking more than his job again. But he hadn't hesitated. The 118—Evan needed his help, and he was going to do his best, even if it killed him.

"All right," he says, eying the ice bag on the seat next to him. "I'm heading your way now. But it has to be fast, we won't have a lot of time."

"We'll be ready," comes Athena's voice. "We're almost at the helipad."

Suddenly, there's another voice coming out of the radio.

"Pilot Kinard, this is Colonel Hartman. I hope you know this is not going to end well for you."

"I understand, sir," his voice is steady as he flies the chopper as fast as he can. He doesn't wait to for a response, there's no point. He changes the frequency to the one Evan and Athena are using.

"We see you, Tommy," Evan says.

"I think you're about to have company, too. And I don't mean me," he jokes, not sure the line is going to land as he hopes. They're all too tense to be glib, but Tommy can't help it. Joking to diffuse the tension has always been a go-to of his.

"We know," Athena chimes. "It was too good to hope they didn't follow us."

Tommy sees their figures grow bigger as he approaches the helipad. He gets in position and starts the landing. The two black choppers he had behind him get in position too, hovering in the air bracketing the roof. So I can't take off again, figures, he thinks. As the chopper touches down, before he can fully turn off the engine, he sees Buck running towards him.

He grabs the ice bag with the antiviral and gets out of the chopper with just enough time to brace himself before Evan is crashing into him. Tommy closes his eyes in relief and automatically wraps his arms around him as he feels Evan do the same around his shoulders, squeezing him tight. As the rotor blades keep slowing down, he hears Evan's voice softly next to his ear.

"Oh, my god. Oh, my God. You did it. Tommy, you did it."

"I did it," Tommy sighs. He loosens his arms to take a step back, even though it's the last thing he wants to do right now, but they still have to take the antiviral to the lab and there's no time to lose. "Evan, you have to go now."

Evan eyes are wide, and Tommy can see a dozen emotions fliting in them. He nods, unblinking, holding Tommy's gaze.

"I got it," Athena says from just a couple of steps behind Evan. Tommy didn't notice her reaching them, but he takes his eyes away from Evan's for a second and hands the bag to her.

"Thank you, Tommy." Her voice is tight with emotion. "We'll get you out of any trouble you get into, I promise," she says with a nod of her head. Tommy nods back and turns his gaze back to Evan, who hasn't let him go and has his hands on Tommy's shoulders still.

"Let's go, Buck."

"Right behind you," he says, but doesn't move. "Tommy—"

For the first time since he took off on the stolen chopper, he hears Evan's voice crack. He sees the fear in his eyes, and Tommy's heart clenches painfully.

"I know, Evan," he says, squeezing his hand that is still holding on to Evan's side. "We'll talk when it's all over. But you gotta go."

Evan starts shaking his head even before Tommy is done talking. His eyes turn glassy and the setting sun behind him makes the tears forming in Evan eyes shine in a way that pierces right through Tommy's heart.

"No. I don't know what's gonna happen, and I can't go without telling you this."

"Evan—"

"I love you, Tommy."

Tommy's heart stops for a second, the air completely knocked out of him by Evan's words. But before he can react or say anything back, Evan keeps going, urgency lacing his voice.

"A-And I'm not saying it just because the world is falling apart around us right now. This is not me being impulsive. This is me, terrified but clear-headed, telling you that I love you, Tommy. I love you so much. I've been in love with you since before we broke up, I was in love with you when we hooked up, and I'm still so fucking in love with you now. I was just too dumb to say it back then. And we will talk after all this is over, but I don't want to go another second without you knowing that I love you."

Tommy blinks back the tears that are burning in his own eyes now. He knows there's no time right now for him to tell Evan all that he wants to say. They have no time for him to apologize, for him to tell Evan that he's so, so sorry for hurting him, for running at the slightest sign of trouble, for letting his insecurities win time and time again. There's no time to tell him that he's been miserable without him, that Evan is it for him and that terrifies him. There's no time. So he just says:

"I love you, too." He closes the distance between them to press his forehead against Evan's and closes his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. "I love you so much, sweetheart."

Their exchange didn't last more than half a minute, but it feels monumental. He feels more than hears Evan's soft gasp, his hands tightening their grip on Tommy's shoulders for a second. Then, their bubble is burst by the sound of people coming out of the elevator at the far end of the roof. They both turn to look and see army soldiers striding towards Athena and them.

With a last squeeze of his hand, he shoves Evan a little towards where Athena is having a standoff with who he guesses is the Colonel.

"Go save your family, baby. We'll talk later," he says. Evan looks back at him and nods as he starts jogging away from him.

"I'll keep you posted," Evan shouts as he runs.

Tommy stays where he is next to the chopper, watching as Athena and Buck are led to the elevator by a couple of soldiers and the Colonel turns and strides towards him.

Please, God, let them get to everyone in time, he prays to a god he doesn't really believe in. The Colonel reaches him, a scowl so deep on his face that Tommy wonders if his eyebrows hurt from pulling together so tightly.

"Pilot Kinard, I'm not even going to bother explaining right now the amount of trouble you have gotten yourself into with this stunt," he begins, his voice hard and sharp. "You're going to follow our helicopters to where you can land, and you will await further instructions. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."

With that, the Colonel turns back towards the elevator. "Now, Kinard!"

Tommy gets back on his chopper, and as he takes her up into the air again, he sees the last rays of the sunset sinking in the horizon. As he follows the other chopper, with the second one on his tail, he turns into the radio frequency he knows they're using to communicate with dispatch. He keeps an ear on it the whole time, but nothing major happens beyond updates on the antiviral's ETA.

They soon get to the stadium they're apparently using to land, and ash he touches down, he hears Athena's voice on the radio saying they've arrived at the lab. He hurries out of the chopper and sprints to the tent they have set up at the edge of the field. A soldier from one of the choppers shouts at him to stay put, but he ignores him. He needs to hear what's going on. When he reaches the tent, the soldier who ran after him grabs him by the arm and turn him around.

"Please, I just need to listen. I'm not going anywhere," he pleads. Tommy was no idea what his face must be doing, but the soldier lets go of his arm. He turns around and listens.

"I'm going back in," he hears Evan say.

"Absolutely not," says another voice. But Evan must have made a run for it, because there's chaos on the radio for a few seconds.

"Dispatch, we need the antiviral now," he hears Ravi say, his voice filled with panic. "Bobby's been infected, too."

Tommy's stomach drops. There's only one vial; there's no way it will be enough for both Howie and Bobby.

Another voice comes on, telling them they need to prioritize Bobby, since he's only started to show symptoms and Chim is already a lost cause. The callousness of the voice makes a cold type of fury course through Tommy's veins. There's some more commotion that Tommy can't quite follow. He hears something about Athena gearing up and getting the antiviral to Bobby, more back and forth on who should get it administered. Eventually the chatter quiets down. But the more time that passes, the more scared Tommy gets. Where's Evan? Has he reached the 118? Is he wearing PPE? Where's Athena? Tommy is desperate for answers, but there's nothing he can do.

Until there's a voice coming from the radio again.

"Firefighter down, I repeat, Firefighter down!"

Hen's voice is unlike Tommy has ever heard it. Rough and filled with agony.

Oh, God. Howie...

"Hen! Is it Chim? What happened?" Evan sounds panicked now.

"No, it—It's Bobby," she rasps. He just collapsed, we can't get a pulse."

No.

Tommy's heart stops.

"No, no— HEN! YOU HAVE TO GET HIM BACK!" Evan screams.

"He's gone, Buck," Ravi says, with an emptiness in his voice Tommy has never heard in the young man's voice, usually so full of life.

Tommy thinks he hears Hen let out a sob, he hears Ravi say something about Howie, but every sound disappears from his consciousness as he hears Evan, his Evan, let out a scream so full of pain and despair that Tommy knows will hunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

Tagging @qwordavoider, my love, because she inspires me and makes me brave 💗💗

[hot-astrology]

Herzen (3052) ~ Your Love

Herzen represents your hearts content and where you vibrate on the frequency of love. This asteroid represents the heart. Today, we'll be going over more prominent aspects/placements in synastry, composite, and natal. In the natal chart, Herzen will show where you vibrate on the frequency of love and where you love the hardest. In synastry, we see where this love is ignited between the two. In composite, if there are prominent placements, then it shows where there is unconditional love within the relationship.

Herzen conjunct Neptune

Natally Herzen conjunct neptune shows a transcendental love that the chart holder possesses. They have the ability to love past flaws and worldly circumstances. They know how to love others from & for the soul because they understand we are all one.

In synastry, this is powerful because, again, we see unconditional love with no boundaries. The neptune person has no idea how much the herzen person loves them, although subconsciously, they feel it. They can have dreams and strong intuitive feelings of loving the other. This love has nothing to do with the physical but all with the oness they feel together spiritually.

In composite, this aspect tells the story of a relationship filled with unconditional and undying love. There is definitely a spiritual link between the two.

Herzen conjunct Saturn

Did you know saturn represents contracts? It only makes sense because of Saturn's will to bind things together. Not to mention, that libra the sign of contracts is exalted here. There is a strong connection of contracts & business whenever saturn is involved with something, that's why saturn is karma because when you make a contract with someone, you now both owe the other something. When saturn aspects herzen, but especially conjuncts the native has a contract to learn about the matters of the heart. They have come down to this dense,3d realm (saturn) to learn how to love unconditionally and vibrate on that frequency. In synastry this is the same except, the saturn person has a contract with the herzen person to learn about love, and saturn is here to teach herzen lessons about love. This energy is also reciprocated into composite. The relationship will be filled with trials & lessons about love.

Herzen conjunct Sun

Herzen conjunct Sun in the natal chart shows that the native is the physical embodiment of love, and their personality exudes this heart frequency. They can be very selfless, and it's important for them to not just love others but also themselves. People can love the light this person gives off. In composite, this shows that the source of the relationship is based on love; and when these souls come together, the vibration of the relationship is the heart. In synastry, they both love each other a lot and are willing to sacrifice certain things for others. This is a representation of unconditional love. Look at where this conjunction is taking place.

Herzen in 7h

In the natal chart, this shows that through partnerships/marriage, this is where your heart feels content. This native likely gives a lot in their relationships, and it's also important in relationships that their partners show them, unconditional love. They will likely attract partners who have a very big heart. Herzen 7h overlay in synastry can show the energy of love exists strongly within the relationship of these two. Their souls agreed to come together to gain love within their connection. Herzen person exudes this energy in the 7h person's eyes, and they love the Herzen under no conditions, and Herzen just loves the 7h person just because of the way they are. Similar to the Herzen 7h overlay in composite, there is unconditional love within their relationship.

While doing some research, I stumbled upon a page on Instagram called @extraasf, and their posts are SO inquisitive. They introduced me to this asteroid, and I had to know more. So go check out their page if you are into the more spiritual side of astrology! These are just a few descriptions of some random placements, but pay attention to this asteroid if it's closely conjunct to any planets/angles. I would also say look to see if you have this asteroid at any libra degrees (7°,19°) because this rules over relationships/contracts! Hope you guys enjoyed it, see you next week. 🌙

𝐵𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝐴 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 |🫦| masterlist