#i finish one and it's like...bam! i checked a thing off the list even though it wasn't on the list

[shivunin]

31. "Don't look at them, look at me" (from this prompt list)

Look At Me

Arianwen hated Orzammar. 

It was all the worst parts of Denerim rolled into one closed society. No way in, no way out. Even their dead were tossed into the deep to become part of the landscape. She’d never been afraid of close spaces before; thrived in them, actually. But down here, even before they’d gone into the Deep Roads, she’d been able to feel the pressure of the whole world above her, watching. 

Waiting. 

And now—if she was lucky—she was to be at her most vulnerable in it. 

“Tabris, you’re going to need to focus a little longer,” Wynne said, her eyes on Wen’s leg where it hung over Alistair’s arm. 

He’d fretted over carrying her on his back, the fool. Said it would make the wound worse. She’d told him stopping constantly so he could adjust her in his arms again would take too long, so he might as well do it. He hadn’t shut up after that, but he’d kept his complaints to a dull roar. It was more than she could say of the drunk, whom she’d fantasized about killing for so long that she was surprised whenever his head bobbed back into view again. 

Or—maybe she was seeing things. 

What a silly thing to say; she was certainly seeing things. Zev was here, too, and she knew for a fact she’d left him behind in Orzammar proper. Shianni walked beside him, and her face was laughing whenever they passed one of those strange lights. Happy; Wen couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Shianni happy. When they’d been girls, perhaps, playing pretend in their little secret room away from all the adults. 

And also…

“Nelaros,” she whispered, and her lips cracked at the words. He looked over his shoulder, just past Wynne, and smiled at her. 

There was a hole in his eye. 

“Go away,” she said, and Alistair turned to look at her, alarmed, “Go away—you’re dead. You’re dead—you can’t have me.”

Nelaros was holding the ring he’d died with. She’d pawned it in Ostagar for better armor without an ounce of sentimentality over the thing. He’d been forced on her by her father, and he’d tried to help as best he could, and then he’d died. 

It was sad. It was also not her problem. 

“Catch her!” Alistair shouted, just as she unbalanced herself and would have toppled the both of them. The others rushed to help, though she only felt two sets of hands on her back. 

“Do you think we should get someone from Orzammar to—”

“They’ll never come,” the dwarf growled, “Not even for a Grey Warden. Too safe and snug. You get her to the city or she dies.”

“—can’t—up—festering—at once—” Wynne was saying, but Arianwen couldn’t hear her. Nelaros was screaming too loud, and so was Shianni, and—

Pain in her leg, long and unending, stretching on and on. At some point, she opened her eyes at last and found herself in a room that seemed dimly familiar. It was also…very crowded. 

“Mama?” she murmured, and her mother pressed a cool hand to her brow. She was so hot; so hot, she’d never felt the like before. 

But Adaia’s face was wrong, half-rotted and gone, for she was dead. Butchered and dead. Twelve years in the ground or more. 

Arianwen’s eyes skated away over faces old and new, faces dreaded and beloved and long gone. There were her parents, yes, but also Loghain as she’d seen him before that last battle at Ostagar, the Lady of the Forest, serene and untouched, Zathrian with hate in his eyes, the villagers at Redcliffe she’d been unable to save, and on and on, and—

And Nelaros, still smiling even though she could see the far side of the room through his eye. His hand was outstretched, ring gleaming pristine and flat in his palm. 

“Go away,” she shrieked, and it seemed to her that some of them did—or backed up, at least. 

“Go away, Nelaros; you’re dead. You’re dead. I don’t want you—you can’t make me—”

“Look at me,” an accented voice said, and even panting and panicked she knew it. Arianwen turned, eyes wild, and Zevran was there all at once, standing where her mother had stood. 

“Don’t let him have me,” she begged, the words dragging out longer than they should, “Don’t let him—I won’t go—”

She couldn’t help it; she could feel him there, at the end of the bed, waiting. Waiting. 

“Look at me,” Zevran said, and her eyes snapped back to him, “Do not look at them. Look at me. Do you see me?”

“Y-yes,” she said, and her back arched on the bed when something poker-hot slid into her leg. 

“Hold her,” a strange voice said, and Zevran was there, too, hands planted on her shoulders. Something else settled over her stomach, but she could not see it past her lover. 

“Mi vida,” he said, when her eyes wandered to her mother's face over his shoulder, “See me. Look at me. I am here; they are ghosts. They could not possibly be more interesting than I, no?”

His eyes were warm, if tight at the corners, and even in her fever the sight of him steadied her. Yes; that was the right hair, the right eyes, the correct tattoo arching over his cheek. She knew the hands at her shoulders even past the haze of pain that radiated from her calf. 

“I see you,” she said, and gasped when the heat cut close to the bone, “I see you. I see you.”

Wen went on saying it until the darkness reached for her and took her away. Even then, she might’ve sworn she could still see him there, like a glimmer of gold at the bottom of a long, deep river, waiting only for her to find him again.

[olivia091108]

How to be a jackass:part 1

Summary:meeting bam and Ryan in westchester

Word count:3306

So far filming for season two of jackass has probably been the best time I’ve ever had even though I’m getting injured or pranked every day.

All the guys are great and at first I thought it’s gonna be awkward not only being the new person but being the only girl.Thank god I was wrong for once I don’t think any of them actually cared as long as I actually did gnarly stunts.

The only people I haven’t met are the boys from westchester but Jeff says that we’re gonna film a group stunt with all of us soon.

I’ve done some mediocre stunts like pouting glitter in my eye which didn’t come out for a week and licking a mouse trap Owch. I also did one with wee man where he dressed as a baby and put in a pram and when people would ask to see ‘my baby’ they would be kinda disturbed.

Today I walk on to set and check the stunt list. Today I’m gonna get a pregnant belly strapped to me and walk around town drinking some beer.

——————————————————

Time skip

After getting a mean old lady shouting at me for ‘destroying my baby’ Jeff called all of us over and told us that at 5:30am to meet here because we’re driving to westchester tomorrow.Jeff actually banned us from going out after like we usually would do we finished for the day and I got the bus back to mine and my sisters apartment

Don’t get me wrong I’m excited but really 5:30 I’m sure there’s no harm in waking up later. I walk into the apartment and go to my room to pack since we will be staying there for 5 days.

I walk into my room and start packing stuff but I can’t find one of my favourite tops so I walk into Ella’s room to see if she’s taken it and I barge in without knocking to see her and Oliver mud sex scrambling to cover themselves with the sheet.

“Get out!”

“In a sec do you have my blue top the one with the buttons”

“Are you serio-“ I sigh and lean against the wall and she knows I won’t leave until she gives it to me. “It’s in my closet” I walk over and grab it off the hanger and scrunch it up in my hands

“Oh yeah by the way I’m gonna be gone for a few day”

“Leave!” She throws a pillow at me but I dick out the room before it can hit me

An hour later ella and Oliver knock on my door and wait for me to reply before walking in with very serious looks on both their faces.

Y/n we need to talk to you about something. You can’t just walk in without knocking we don’t have any privacy with you.

Alright I’ll knock next time

“It’s not just the knocking you always come home late and wreck the houses remember you broke olis computer at like 5:30 you never clean up after yourself and we just think that you should move back with mum and dad because we can’t keep living with you.”

“What your kicking me out I pay rent here”

“You don’t even pay a quarter y/n your’e basically living here for free.I rang dad he said it was fine you moving back soon”

“You know I can’t do that el”

“You could always get your’e own place I could help you have the money know”

“Fuck you. you know what I’ll leave right now.” I grab all my clothes in my wardrobe and try to shove it into my small suitcase and mange to mostly zip it and I grab a few personal thing and hold my piggy bank under my arm before leaving

It might’ve been a irrational idea because now I have nowhere to stay for the night and I can’t go to my parents not how I left there

It’s 1am I might as well go to set and wait till morning but with busses not running I have to walk 5 miles uptown.

Once I get there I only have to wait 2 and a half hours so I set my suitcase down and use it as a seat I dig around in my pocket for the taser I took from Johnny just in case.

I feel a hand grab me and by instinct Tase whoever it was. By the time my eyes have adjusted I realise I must’ve fallen asleep and everyone’s here to go to westchester.

While Jeff is complaining the taser Dave asks if I’ve been here all night. Nah I just thought I should get here early yknow only been here half hour.

We separate into 3 cars to get there and I’m in with Johnny Dave and wee man. I’m in the back with Dave and decide to use the 6 hour car drive as an opportunity for some sleep since I got 2 hours max last night.

—————————————————-

I wake up not being able to breathe and feeling plastic on my face I try and pry one of my friends hands off of me but it’s no use and I have to rip the plastic bag now being able to breathe properly

I hear Knoxville’s laugh and a Camrea is pointed in my face all that adrenaline woke me up quick but I’m still not wide awake and I just flip him off while sitting up and stretching being confined in a car really isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world.

“Cmon y/n we’re here grab your bags.” I take my almost bursting suitcase and walk it into the large house we will be staying at. I hear taking and follow it to the living room seeing Johnny talking to the two boys I recognise from episodes but still haven’t met.

Jeff introduces them the one with the dark hair and blue eyes is bam and the blonde one with a beard is called Ryan. We all introduce ourselves and start chatting and getting to know eatch other. Another girl is here called Jenn she’s bams girlfriend she seems nice but I haven’t spoken to her much

I excuse myself to the bathroom and i see a blonde lady in the kitchen and ask her if she needs a hand. If you don’t mind that would be great

“I’m April bams mum it’s so nice to have you all hear but I am a bit worried honestly”

“Im y/n thanks for letting us stay and I promise I will try to protect you and your house.”

Me and April talk about all kinds of things and I soon meet her husband Phil who is such a sweetheart and it makes me feel even worse for him seeing how bam treats him.

I’m sorry your supposed to be getting to know eatchother and I’ve stolen you away thanks for your help with the dinner.

“Oh it’s no worries you seem wayy more interesting than them boys.”

Speaking of Chris has snuck up behind me and lifted me up and body slammed me onto one of the sofas it wouldn’t of hurt that bad if people weren’t sitting on it.

I sit up and move off of whoever I fell on and jsut laugh it off and I start talking to Ryan about some of his stunts and his life and what not. While telling me about cky videos and high school with his friends bam started to join in adding to the story.

After an hour of talking to the two of them we got along really well and had quite a few things in common with them. We got called for dinner and while I was eating I could feel myself drifting off even though I slept in the car for 6 hours.

I ended up face planting into the food which made everyone laugh and while I used the bottom of my shirt to wipe it off the topic of rooms came up.

Some people were gonna have to share because there’s not enough rooms Steve o and pontius are sharing as well as Dave and ehren. Johnny is with me and wee man and Preston are together.

We all go to our rooms and get unpacked and settled. “Yknow we’re only here for 5 days don’t you”.

“Can’t a girl have options” i didn’t want to tell Johnny about getting kicked out I just wanted to have fun here. While I get changed into my pjamas I get into bed and shut my eyes trying to fall asleep but either from the excitement of tomorrow or because I napped today I couldn’t.

I looked at the clock and it was 12:34 Knoxville was asleep by now I could tell by his heavy breathing. I decided to go downstairs and have some water so I snuck out of my room and when I got downstairs I see Jenn down their about to leave

“How come you aren’t staying?”

“Bams just being a bit of a dick right now but I’ll see you in a couple days bye”

I sit in the kitchen having some water and once I’ve finished I still don’t feel like sleeping so I decide to look around. As best as you can in the dark. I quietly open the front door and step into the garden it had a skate ramp and a swimming pool in it. I went to go back inside but the door is locked I’m not gonna ring the doorbell or id wake everyone up.

I walk round the back and I see a window open so I jump from the ramp to the roof and pull myself up I walk along to reach the window but I see something move next to me. It’s a squirrel. Shit I’m fucking terrified of them they’re Satan reincarnated.

“Oh my god oh my god stop”I try to move as quick as I can to the window and quickly climb in to the room and close the window quietly while repeating those words.

“Jenn I told you to go away”bam room shit. I don’t answer and attempt to just get out of the room but I step on something and it slips out from under me and I fall onto the bed.

“Shit sorry.” Bam leans over and turns his bedside lamp on and rub his eyes. “What are you doing”

“I got locked out of the house then I had to climb threw your’e window to get away from the squirrel like I said sorry and night.”

“Are you on something” bam asks not believing me. I pull a confused face not knowing why he would be confused. “ why were you running from a squirrel?”

“Cos they’re fucking scary haven’t you seen Charlie and the chocolate factory?” At my distress yknow way he does. Laugh.I soon join in and we’re just sat they’re laughing together in His room.

Once the laughing stops he breaks the silence. “How did you even get up here?”bam asks thinking back on my story “I jumped off your ramp.you any good at skating”

“Yeah pretty good you?”

“Stepped foot on one once and fell onto someone’s bed. It seems pretty cool other than that though”

“I could teach you sometime.”

“I’ll hold you to that bam” me and bam speak about anything and everything with me now sitting above his covers on his bed and we switched the lamp off.

He tells me all about his family and when he asks about mine something in the room shifts it’s awkward.

Well I actually left home when I was 16 because me and my mum never got along she always preferred my sister i always hung out with my dad but I didn’t have many friends but these girls invited me to hangout with them and I snuck out an we went to some abandoned school and we would go there smoke some weed and whatever and once we were spray painting and the police turned up my friends ran and a policeman got me and I kicked him in the balls and they took me to jail and when my mum got that call she went crazy she said she was so disappointed in what I’ve become and that she won’t bail me out because she didn’t actually want me to come home. My dad eventually came in and took me home but I got there and my room was all boxed up and she kicked me out and said she didn’t want to see me again so I moved in with my sister.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t know”

“Yeah well how could you I don’t tell anybody so I’m could u try not to mention that”

“Pinky promise”we interlock pinkies and I kiss my hand and he copies.the conversation moves on and soon enough we’re shushing the other to stop Laughing until I notice the clock and see that it’s 2:12 and I can tell bams tired and I am as well.

“Wait y/n it was cool talking to you and if you need to talk I’m always here.” I grab a pillow an throw it at hand face. Don’t get all sappy now bam I thought you were supposed to be a cool skater boy.

I leave and head back to my room and wriggle into bed having to shove Johnny over a bit and for a second I lay there thinking about bam and how much I trusted him I wonder what tomorrow will be like before I know it I’m out like a light.

This one was acc really long

Omg guys I’m so pissed I wrote this like a week ago but I didn’t press save and I LOST RVEYTHUNG the first one was way better

Requests always open

-liv

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Hail, Asmodeus!

Y/N, a chronicly lonely woman, resorts to some…drastic measures to supplement her nonexistent love life.

Incubus!Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

1.9k Words

Warnings: Extremely suggestive content, mention of creepy guys, demonic rituals, stalking, animal death mention, wet dreams, predator/prey dynamic

An: Thank you so much for your requests!! This fic was heavily inspired by this post by @haggarrd and this SPECTACULAR piece of fan art by @the-commonrose which was living in my head for an actual year before I wrote this XD I listened to October Rust on loop while writing this and I think you can tell ;) Anyways, thank you for sending in requests and please, please keep them coming! My inbox is dryer than the desert rn

It was a stupid idea, but you were getting desperate. You were a grown ass woman, and you had never been in a serious relationship. Working from home, you never really got out much and spent a majority of your free time playing video games alone like some antisocial teenager. Even in high school, you never quite developed those oh so important social skills everyone else seemed to have. You yearned for friendship, sure, but you wanted more than that. If not a relationship, as embarrassing as this sounds, all you really needed was affection- something those filthy romance novels you stuck your nose in every night just couldn’t give you. So yeah, maybe you were a little pathetic.

But after trying to meet guys on the internet turned out to be a bust because you ran into one too many creepy dudes, you decided to swear that off, and given the fact you couldn’t talk to men, dating the traditional face-to-face way was out of the question. So one weekend, when you would otherwise be rotting in your bed, laying with your computer on your chest like an otter, you decided to do a little research. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and your solution came to you from, of all places, a seedy Internet forum on the occult. it’s not like you really believed in any of that pentagram of salt, light five black candles crap, but hell, you didn’t have anything to lose.

So, that Friday night, a time for well adjusted adults to go out drinking, party, and screw, you were trying to summon a demon. Yeah, real picture of maturity here. It was an incubus, the website specified- which you only just then learned wasn’t only the name of a band but also apparently some kind of male sex demon, which was close enough to what you were looking for. You went about setting everything up, with all the candles and saying nonsense in Latin, but even after you smudged enough herbs to make your apartment smell like an Italian restaurant, nothing happened. You really should’ve known better than to trust some whackjob on the internet you thought, deciding to go to bed to avoid the gnawing pit in your stomach. Burying yourself in your sheets with a sigh, you tried not to make yourself sick with self pity.

The way your room was set up, there was this window you could almost see out of from your place on the bed, but not quite. For some odd reason, that’s where your eyes were drawn as you sleeplessly stared up at the ceiling with that whole seance thing from a week ago completely gone from your mind. The days were really starting to blend together- wake up, start work, finish work, microwave dinner, sleep. But you tried to keep positive: life isn’t that bad alone, you thought- there’s a lot worse things you could be. But as you started going through the list and you got right in between ‘dead’ and ‘in high school again’, you were suddenly shaken from your thoughts by this stomach churning noise from the darkness- this slow, drawn out scratching at your window. Even though all signs would point to it being some raccoon or mouse, the eerie chill it sent down your spine made your mind immediately go into survival mode. Jolting to your feet, you fell out of bed and scrambled to double check your windows were locked and that there wasn't some home intruder trying to break in and burgle your PlayStation or something. But sure enough, the windows were firmly locked and whatever it was was long gone. Fuck. You were going off the deep end.

After that night , you started getting a little paranoid. Maybe it was the lack of sleep getting to you, but these odd things started happening out of nowhere. The next morning, after that whole scratching incident, when you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom of your shithole apartment, you dipped your head down in the sink and you could’ve sworn you saw something- someone, standing behind you. But by the time you whipped your head up, the only figure looking back at you in the cracked mirror was yourself. Even in public, there always seemed to be something sitting barely out of your line of sight, watching you.

Or these odd physical sensations that came over you at seemingly random times. For example, at night, when you were laying in bed, cozying up with one of those aforementioned filthy novels- because that's what you do when you don’t have a boyfriend. In the silence, the only sound in the room was the periodic flipping of pages until the AC kicked on, which you used to quickly write off the sudden ‘hairs standing up on the back of your neck’ sensation. What you couldn’t explain away as easily was this heavy feeling you felt pushingpushing your bodyyour body down, as if someone had their hand on your shoulder, looking over and studying your every move. But the second you slammed the cover shut and whipped your head around, it was gone. This wasn't a one time thing either- this was routine, always when you were relaxing or busy with something benign. Take, for example, doing dishes. Standing there, elbow deep in murky dishwater, you would start to feel this…warmth surround you- always from behind, and sort of creeping around the rest of your body. And you could feel right behind your ear, these vibrations against your skin, as if there was something there lurking, growling like a starved animal.

Speaking of animals, it should be mentioned here that you never had great luck with living things, and this fact was becoming really apparent as of recently. I mean, you had no problems keeping your plants alive before this, but out of nowhere they all started simultaneously wilting, then browning…then rotting. You tried everything they said to do online, but no amount of sunlight or ph balanced water seemed to reviveto reviSoSo, without too much modumping, you decided to go outside to dump their flakey corpses in your building’s dumpster and oh. It was difficult to see with your arms full of plant pots, but you were almost sure that the thing lying on your doorstep was a dead rabbit. Now you don’t usually get nauseous around blood, but that’s human blood- dead animals are another thing. And as you stared down at the mess of red gristle and white fur in front of you, you could’ve sworn you heard someone whisper in your ear.

Bam really thought he’d get you with that one. It’s a similar concept to how the best beef comes from those cows that get massages and drink beer all day- human souls tasted best with fear, He was quietly watching you from the darkness, brushing against you with feather light touches, whispering gently in your ear, but it was seemingly impossible to figure out how to could get to your head. He was trying every trick in the book, and this woman was still oblivious! Maybe if she had a little more sense in her, she’d recognize that something was a little off after that third consecutive wet dream he gave her, but noooo! She was surprisingly accepting of all of this. In fact, if Bam knew any better, he could’ve sworn you were enjoying this. To say he was frustrated would be an understatement. This lonely pervert of a woman was either very resilient or just plain desperate, and was airing towards the latter.

It was those dreams he gave you that had the biggest effect on you. See, most humans break down- tenderize, if you will, pretty quickly at this sort of thing, but you were a tough nut to crack. But Bam kept his cool- he knew how to get creative in times like these, so he decided that not only would he be weaving these lusty thoughts into your head while you were none this wiser, at the same time, he’d be standing right by your bedside, tracing his fingers over your sleeping form. Nothing too serious, just gently slipping the linens off of your shoulder with a drag of a single clawed finger here, slowly caressing your cheek there. The touch of any demon is incredibly powerful, especially that of an Incubus. But even when you woke up with little red claw marks etched into the skin of your hips, you flat out didn’t care. In fact, you seemed to be going to bed sooner and sooner, in hopes you’d seen that mysterious figure that had you so transfixed.

So, he had to take things into his own hands.

At your window, which you had since stopped locking, Bam peered in with keen eyes, watching you as you laid there, peacefully bathed in the glow of the night. The only motion in the room was the soft rise and fall of your chest with your breath. Like a wild animal stalking its prey, he took this as his cue, silently pushing open the windows with little effort and inviting himself in. But you weren’t asleep. From under half lidded eyes, you finally got the chance to take in the visage of this bewitching stranger that had been haunting your every waking moment. Standing bare at the foot of your bed, stepping out from the cover of shadow and into the light, Bam revealed himself.

Beautiful, dark filigree stood out against his pale skin, one design spanning his Adonis’ belt and the other winding up his side. Razor sharp, catlike claws glinted in the light and, framed that way, he looked so powerful. With that toned, muscular body, you could have mistaken him for a man if it weren’t for the mouth full of fangs he was sporting, almost salivating over your body. The mattress dipped a little under his weight and the set of strong wings that sat on his back settled down against him as Bam practically slithered closer, pausing on top of you to rake a hand through the dark curls that hung in his face, revealing a pair of piercing, clouded over eyes- the eyes of a predator. But even though every feature of his was purely demonic, once you got a look at his face, you realized that he was strikingly beautiful.

It was either the slight flutter of your eyelids or the way Bam could feel your heartbeat speed up against his chest that tipped him off that you were awake. Oh, this was getting better and better. He could practically smell the fear seeping from this woman’s pores as he buried his face in your neck, anticipation hanging dense in the air between your bodies. And Bam sat there for a second, jaws wide but not quite clamping down on your throat, giving you just enough room to panic and wriggle or squirm before he finally got to that delicious prize he was so eagerly waiting for- because he liked to play with his food. Quivering with desire, you couldn’t be happier, because those same dreams you had night after night were happening for real: in your room, to you.

[suddence]

Retrospective!

HI. So. Since Suddence draft 3 is done, I thought I'd do a bit of retrospective on this story :^)

This little project started as an escape from my main wip, APHELION, which is a big sprawling sci-fi thing. I thought Suddence would be a nice little novella, 40k words tops.

Turns out, it's 60k words long. That's right. It's a wholeass novel.

Draft #1

On May 17th, 2021, I started the first draft. While I had a strong idea of the basic premise and a nice solid beginning, I wasn't sure how exactly the rest of the story would go. Most of this draft was just me writing down scenes that seemed interesting. At this point, I hadn't even figured what exactly Dany was gonna do after reaching Suddence. I threw together some semblance of a wham bam action climax. I didn't like it, but I couldn't think of much else.

Also, while I had the alternating timelines idea already, they were both written in regular prose.

After "finishing" this draft, I went back to my main wip for a while and continued struggling with it.

Draft #2

On November 16th, 2022, I started the second draft. In this draft, my goal was to tie the story down. The prose doesn't have to be good; it just has to be finished and whole. The beginning of the story stays mostly the same, except that I decided wait! Wouldn't it be more interesting if we got to read the flashbacks as if they were Dany's diary entries?

I tested this out and decided, yup. It was much cooler.

So, I focused on this for a while. Progress was meandering and I was struggling a bit with how I wanted the story to end. At some point, I peeked at my first draft, hoping to have some inspiration, and noticed I started it on May 17th. And at this point, it was also almost May 17th (2023). And I thought to myself, "Man, wouldn't it be something if I could finish this draft on May 17th? Wouldn't that be nice and symmetrical? Haha. That's not possible though."

But with the power of promising I'll treat myself to a Lego splurge after I finish the draft, it was, indeed, possible.

Now, as you read through the draft (I say "you" as if you will ever read this version of the story), you will notice that the quality significantly gets worse as it goes on. But I was perfectly fine with it! I had confidence and trust that my future editing self will handle it. All that matters right now is that it's done.

I let the story marinate for a few months, leaving notes whenever I thought of something, and went back to focus on APHELION. And I had a HUGE breakthrough there, which only boosted my confidence. I had been struggling with this wip for SO long, and it was amazing to finally have it figured out.

Draft #3

On August 1st, 2023, I began the third draft of Suddence. I switched my goal from "it just has to be finished" to "it has to actually be good." My mindset on this stage was that it had to be in a publishable state, even though I don't plan on publishing it just yet. I took the chapters one by one, reading each of them out loud to catch any strange wording or confusing moments. (There were a LOT of these that would have slipped by if I hadn't been reading out loud.)

One thing that really helped was keeping a notebook on hand, and any time I thought of something (e.g. checking the continuity on a previous scene, or a reminder to add something earlier, etc) I would write it down. This made editing SO much more manageable. I didn't have to rely on my spotty memory, I could cover so many more bases, and it's very satisfying to check each task off my list as I tackle them.

I wasn't really sure how long the edit would take. My general goal was to have something ready to show by April/May of 2024, where I'll hopefully be tabling at VanCAF again.

And now it's only been a bit more than two weeks, and the edit is done. 😳

Next Steps

So! My next steps will be to get critiques. I've set up a critique form, and now I'm preparing to reach out to people for beta reading. It's exciting! But also nerve-wracking. I've never gotten to this stage with ANY of my wips before. (Unless you count, like, my grad film, which I definitely don't.)

After critiques, it'll be one more round of edits!

I'm also going to have a copy printed out just at a local print shop, just so I can have something physical to hold :3

Publishing

I'm sure I've talked about this at some point before, but I'm planning to publish the story serially online first, and then having physical copies and e-books once it's done airing, so to speak. I've been checking out a few websites, like Wattpad and Royal Road and Substack. I'll have to poke around them a bit more before I decide which one to use.

I haven't really decided which printing company to use, either. Last I checked, BookVault doesn't ship to Canada :'( and the only other printer I've used is Lulu. I guess I'll have to look into KDP and all that eventually anyway, so I'll do some research on that front as well.

Thank you to everyone who's been following along on this journey! For now, I'm gonna migrate back to APHELION.

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3997 Warnings: mentions of cheating, mentions of death/loss

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​​​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 1 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

A soft knock at pulls you away from the computer. Twisting your stiff head towards the door you smile, seeing Steve Rogers standing with a tray of coffee and a paper bag in hand marked with the logo of your favorite nearby restaurant.

“You’re a lifesaver!” you chuckled, though you meant every word as you invited Steve to sit at your desk for lunch.

Steve worked security for Stark Industries and you developed a close friendship in the years since you’ve been there. Though he was undeniably good looking, with the build of a Greek God and long lashes you were incredibly jealous of, you never saw Steve as anything other than the brother you never had.

At the time you met he was dating a girl from the building, Lillian Nguyen from accounting. You hadn’t seen much of her in person, just through the photos Steve showed you with adoration on his phone. When he began talking about looking for engagement rings you were thrilled but that excitement was replaced with anger and confusion when Steve found out Lillian was cheating on him.

He was extremely hurt and became guarded afterwards, not wanting to put himself out there again. His lack of socializing worked with your lack of a social life and on the rare occasion you had a moment free from school work Steve would often come over and hang out to binge watch shows you needed to catch up to on Netflix while you ate pizza.

The paper bag rustled as he pulled out a large sandwich, cup of soup and a salad, distributing napkins across the desk as he knows how much of a messy eater you can be. You grabbed the sandwich, tearing open the paper wrapping and sinking your teeth into it with a bite full of food too large for your mouth.

Steve laughed, as he stirred the broth of his soup. He’s witnessed you eating before, unapologetically shoveling food into your face especially when you were starving.

“You know the sandwich isn’t goin’ anywhere, right?” he joked.

Chewing a large mouthful, you grabbed a napkin to wipe the corner of your lips that you felt had a piece of food sticking to it.

“Steve,” you paused to take a sip of coffee, “I’m fucking starving. I ran out this morning and all I had here was a package of almonds that are not filling despite what you say.”

He asked the reason for your tardiness and you explained how you stayed at the cafe until closing to finish up your work, all because of your stupid neighbor.

“Have you tried talkin’ to him?”

You stared at Steve incredulously. “Haven’t gotten a chance. I gotta wait for the right moment. There’s no way I’m knocking on his door, not when he’s banging all of New York, who knows what I’d end up seeing.”

“D’ya want me to do it?”

It was in Steve’s nature to help and though you appreciated his offer you wanted to handle this yourself. You were the one that had to live next to the Music Man, it would be better to confront him alone.

“I understand,” he said, taking a swig from his water bottle. “You down to hang tonight?”

“Wish I could but before my time is sucked away by the next paper I really need to research where I could do my internship. I’m all registered for school but I need to submit the paperwork for where I’ll be doing my hours and I’m running out of time.”

“You should talk to my buddy Sam. Maybe he could get you in at the hospital.”

Sam was Steve’s friend from the gym. They’d work out together, turning everything into a friendly competition to see who could run faster or lift more. Sam was also a doctor in the emergency department of Metro-General so he might have connections. It was worth a shot so you asked Steve to text him. Still you planned on searching for more backups to be safe.

Before the hour was over Steve left to head back downstairs to the security desk and you continued your work for Ms. Hill. You had evolved to working closer with Ms. Hill, becoming more like an executive assistant to her and when necessary Ms. Potts.

In between coordinating a meeting your phone goes off with a text from Wanda, asking if she could see you over the weekend for brunch. Ironically, she ended up moving to the city after all. There was only so far she could go with her degree at home and with her mother’s blessing she came to New York to work for The Jewish Museum.

She lived in a trendy loft on Bleecker Street, decorated with her signature eclectic style. Woven rugs hung like tapestries on the wall, plants hanging down from macramé holders in front of the large windows. Her furniture was an odd mix of plush velvet tufted cushions and smooth leather arm chairs that somehow worked with the mid-century touches and industrial shelving.

Her apartment had more space which you envied, although you loved everything else about where you lived. The neighborhood was amazing, with great shops and a lot of different food options right at your doorstep. Everything was perfect, except your neighbor.

Responding to Wanda you let her know you could most likely make it depending on the workload you’d be getting from your Saturday class. You could not wait until that was over. Spending all day in a small, windowless room instead of enjoying the summer weekend made you miserable but you were close to the end, so, so close.

When the work day was over you went to meet Steve downstairs, walking over to the desk to say goodnight to the elderly security guard who’s been with the company since its inception.

“Any plans for the weekend Mr. Lee?”

The wiry white hairs that made up his mustache moved as he grinned. “Well, Joanie thinks my hair’s getting a bit long,” he smiled, running his fingers through his greyish-white strands. “She’ll have it trimmed before supper, I'm sure,” he laughed.

A smile graced your face whenever you listened to Mr. Lee, admiring the adoration he had for his wife. Steve has heard all of his stories more than once but he never tires of them either. Everyone loved Mr. Lee, especially Tony Stark, who continued to pay him a full time salary for the part time hours he worked.

The job was easy enough as he greeted visitors to Stark Industries, and signing them in to the building while Steve and some other employees did most of the security checks.

You and Steve bid Mr. Lee goodbye as you made your way to the subway. Steve didn’t live far from you and though he could have gotten off at a further stop he always walked with you to your building, partially to make sure you got home safely but also because he needed a distraction to get out of his head.

There were many times when you suggested he go out, not with the purpose of meeting someone but just to break up the monotony of his routine, but Steve lost his confidence after the breakup. For now, he didn’t want to be told what to do, he simply needed a friend and so you were there for him.

Wanda sat back against the chair beside the bistro table covered in shade. Her always changing hair color was light brown today, parting the silky strands perfectly down the middle. She was the definition of cool, despite the heat, wearing a loose scoop-necked tank top, slim ripped jeans and topped things off with a pair of motorcycle boots. Her neck was adorned with a few necklaces of varying lengths, one of which she never took off, a silver lightning bolt in honor of her late brother.

She and Pietro were twins with distinctly different personalities. Wanda was laid back, even as a child. She would actually stop to smell the roses that lined the garden of their backyard, whereas Pietro was always moving. He was an extraordinary multitasker that could not sit still.

Pietro had so many dreams, a full list of things he wanted to do in life but he was taken from the world too soon. Wanda wears the necklace as a reminder to live life to the fullest, knowing how quickly things can change.

Squeezing through the other tables to get to Wanda, you huff as you sit down and catch your breath, apologizing for being late.

“Wanda, I swear I’m going to kill him.”

“Who?”

“The fucking Music Man! I had to leave my own damn apartment again because of his stupid playing. Like, dude, could you not? You live in an apartment. Everyone hears you, everyone!”

Grabbing the glass of ice water you quickly drink most of it to soothe the dehydration of your mouth.

“And another thing, like does he not realize that we can all hear the girls he’s banging? Wanda, they’re so fucking loud. If they were still there right now I bet you could hear them from here.”

Wanda laughed at your accusation. “Oh, so they don’t stay the night? He’s a ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ kinda guy?”

“I guess! I hear them leave, whining at his door as they’re begging to stay over. It’s so pathetic. What’s so great about this guy anyway?” you scoffed. “I wish he never moved here!”  

With a final humph you opened the menu, your anger dissipating as you read the descriptions for everything you wanted, mouth salivating as you tried to decide what to choose. Wanda opted for the frittata while you decided to take out your frustrations on yourself with delicious Challah French Toast.

Wanda’s eyes widened as she watched you drown your meal in syrup. You hummed in satisfaction as you took a bite.

“Hmm, it’s not as good as the kind your mom makes,” you said.

Wanda laughed, “Uh, yeah, because she never used a whole bottle of syrup. Geez Y/N can you taste anything other than sugar?”

“Shush Wan, let me enjoy myself here.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at you. “Well, anyway, I wanted to tell you something exciting...” she sang, grinning widely. “Director Coulson asked me to curate an exhibit on prejudice told through Romani-Jewish art!”

“Wanda this is perfect! I’m so happy for you!” you beamed, getting up from your chair to wrap your arms around her in a proud hug.

“I know! I’m so excited. Mom’s gonna come up for the opening. I mean that’s a long time from now but fuck, I can’t wait!”

After finishing brunch you went back home to begin working on your final. It was a research paper that was worth half of your grade so you really needed to concentrate. And yet the moment the elevator doors opened to your floor you heard it, the sound of music flooding the halls coming from none other than the apartment next to yours.

Jamming your keys into the door with frustration you grunted, grabbing all the things you needed to do your work at the cafe. Your foot tapped impatiently as you waited for the elevator again. With your arms crossed over your chest you could feel your blood boiling beneath your skin, beating to the stupid rhythm of the stupid song that your stupid, inconsiderate neighbor wouldn’t stop playing.

The elevator dinged before the doors opened and you were like a bull, grunting and blowing puffs of air from your flaring nostrils as you were ready to charge into it. As the doors opened you stopped yourself from barreling into your neighbors that were inside.

“Whoa, Y/N!” Clint said, raising his hands up defensively, “Easy there.”

Clint lived on the floor above you along with his fiancée Natasha, whose arms were looped through his.

“Sorry guys,” you apologized. “Oh, wait.” Making your right hand into a fist you ran it across your chest in a few circular motions.

“Someone’s been practicing,” Natasha chimed in, signing her words along as she spoke to you.

Clint was partially deaf and though he used hearing aids he often signed, especially when he didn’t feel like talking to people, although you were one of the lucky ones he considered a friend. Still, you wanted to be able to communicate with him, even if he didn’t want to actually speak.

Clint was a history teacher who already tried to get you into his school for your internship but doubted you would be brought on board. There were apparently a lot of issues going on with the principal and Natasha surmised there was a big lawsuit in the works.

Natasha was an attorney, hoping to make partner at her current firm Nelson & Murdock. Clint never failed to praise her, nicknaming Natasha the Black Widow as he claimed watching her dismantle a witness was like watching a spider sink its venomous fangs into its prey.

“Where’re you guys off to?” you asked.

“Just going out for some ice cream,” she replied.

Clint laughed. “Some ice cream? No, I’m going out to eat a lot of ice cream,” he chuckled, rubbing his eager stomach.

Natasha poked the small protrusion of his belly through his shirt. “Listen buddy, we’ve got a wedding to plan. Easy on the ice cream.” Natasha brought her full lips to his for a kiss they both smiled through, knowing she was teasing him.

“What about you Y/N?” Clint asked.

The elevator doors opened and you walked out with them, explaining how frustrating it’s been that you’ve had to leave for the cafe to do your work all because of the new neighbor.

“Oh the Guitar Hero?” Clint joked. “Yeah, we can hear him too. Well, actually…” he drifted off smirking.

“Clint takes his hearing aids out so no, he doesn’t hear him,” Natasha filled in the information that had you bursting out with laughter.

“Can you hear the women too?” you wondered, considering their apartment was right above his.

“Yeah, kind of, that’s more muffled though. It’s probably a lot worse for you.” Natasha grimaced, catching the way she didn’t mean the words to come out.

It was true though, sharing a wall with the man that made your string lights bounce with every thrust. The sound was bad enough and thankfully your headphones helped with that but every night you had to shut your eyes, hoping you would fall asleep before he was through with them.

You had to give it to the guy though, the man had stamina. Still, you wanted to kill him. At least you were friends with a lawyer...

The next few days have the same result, with you coming home dead tired from work, hoping you’d be able to stay home to work on your final to no avail. You tried using the headphones in your apartment but it didn’t help. The sound was mostly blocked out but your mind couldn’t focus on anything but the anger you held towards the neighbor, knowing he was playing that same song over and over again.

You might as well live in the cafe since you’ve practically paid them your rent in coffee and pastries over the last month. You were burning out quickly and Steve decided you needed a break, bringing over pizza and beer.

Opening up the box, you smiled, staring at the bubbling cheese.

“Ahh, pizza, my one true love,” you said, plating slices for you and Steve.

Your small table was always covered in textbooks, mail and other paperwork you needed to tend to, so you and Steve took your usual spots on the couch.

After working at Stark Industries for a few months you made enough money that allowed you to finally buy much needed furniture. You adored your light grey couch, adorned with blush colored throw pillows. You threw the fuzzy white blanket over the side of the couch, not serving much purpose during the summer months other than to look like it was naturally left on the cushion in a perfectly styled manner for display.

Pushing aside the candlesticks that sat on your coffee table, you set down actual coasters for the bottles Steve opened, not wanting to ruin the veneer of the grey wood top of your rustic coffee table. A small accent rug helped define the space you declared as the living room, despite having your bed within arm’s reach beside you.

Against the brick wall is your TV, sitting atop a modern white stand with shelves for storage you’ve packed to the brim. Beside it, a large antique floor mirror leans against the brick. It was as tall as Steve who helped bring it to your apartment after you found it at a flea market. However, the thing you cherished most was the artwork of the Brooklyn Bridge that hung above your couch, painted by Steve as a gift to you.

“So,” he said, chewing quickly to swallow the food in his mouth. “I talked to Sam. He said it would be cool for you to call him about the internship.”

“Oh yeah. You really think he could help or is this just a rouse to give him my number?” you half-joked.

Steve laughed deeply, wiping away a bit of oil the pizza leaked onto his chin. “Nah, it’s definitely about the internship but I wouldn’t put it past Sam if he tried to take you out. Lord knows he’s been on my case about it with you since I met ‘im.”

“Does he not think guys and girls can have a friendship without romance involved?”

“I can’t speak for him… probably not though.”

You laughed before getting up for another slice. You hoped Sam would be able to help with the internship, no strings attached. He didn’t seem like that type of guy anyway, and all of Steve’s friends were good people so you weren’t worried.

As the Music Man began his one man band you had to gradually increase the volume of your television; your anger rising with every click of the remote. It was no longer enjoyable to watch the action movie you and Steve put on, having to raise the volume for higher to hear the dialogue and scramble to lower the blasting noise of car screeching and explosions. When you couldn’t take it anymore you called it a night.

“Guess you haven’t spoken to him?” Steve asked the question he clearly knew the answer to.

“Soon,” you said hopefully, not knowing when the day might come.

As the sun began to rise on the early Saturday morning you were getting ready for class. With your closet open you debated on what to wear when you heard a voice from the other side of the wall.

“Hi ma… Things are good… and Dad…”

He must have been walking around the apartment as you heard most of the words.

“I know…Leaving now…”

You heard the undoing of his locks and the front door creaking open. Shit! Your first moment to speak to the Music Man alone and you’re standing in your underwear. There’s definitely no way you would approach him now. Instead you raced to the door to try and catch a glimpse of what he looked like but it was too late.

Huffing in frustration you continued to get dressed and within fifteen minutes you were ready to leave. The elevator dinged as you shut your door, inserting your key to turn the deadbolt, unaware of the form that was moving closer towards you, not until you heard the whistling of a familiar tune.

Your heart pounded furiously in your chest, as if that tune was part of a psychological experiment, like Pavlov’s dog but instead of salivating you wanted to punch something.

“Hey neighbor.”

The soft voice of the Music Man broke you from your vision of punching through your shared wall and destroying his instruments. With a calming inhale you turned around to face him.

“I’m Bucky.”

You didn’t respond, you couldn’t. The breath was stolen from your lungs as you stared directly into the kindest, bluest eyes you had ever seen. All the anger left your body, replaced by the softness of his pink lips that reminded you of flowers in full bloom.

He was tall and lean, but your eyes did not miss the bulge of his biceps that showed through his cotton t-shirt. In his hand was a coffee cup, gripped under his long fingers. His hair was dark and pulled back into a low sloppy bun, with a loose piece falling beside his smile.

His hand was extended towards you and you weren’t sure how long it had been. It felt like you were staring at him for hours, or was it only seconds. Did time really stop moving the moment you finally saw him? You broke yourself out of your trance to shake his hand and introduce yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you Y/N. I just moved in. Well not just, but not long ago,” Bucky said.

Yeah I know. I hear you every night. You remembered your frustration and tried to assemble the sentence in your head of how to confront him.

“You ever get coffee from the place on the corner?” he asked, gesturing to the cup in his hand. “The line was crazy long but worth it, it’s delicious.”

“Yeah, once or twice but I’m usually at the Grind House. They’re open late and that’s where I have to go to study because… uh…” you stammered for a moment, “...your guitar playing is too distracting.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, wondering why you felt uncomfortable when he was the one who was being a bad neighbor.

Bucky’s face dropped with guilt. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

“It’s alright,” you lied, not knowing why you said that. Pulling more confidence out of midair you continued, “It’s just that the walls are so thin and I’m in school, well I work full time too, but I’ve just got a lot on my plate and honestly I’m not sure how much longer I can afford the coffee shop every night.”

You chuckled to lighten up the conversation, continuing to ramble before giving him a chance to speak. “So, um, if you wouldn’t mind, maybe you could practice during the day instead or weekends are mostly fine. I’m actually heading to class now so I’ll be gone all day.” Great, give him your whole schedule why don’t you.

With nerves getting the better of you, you turned on your heel quickly saying it was nice to meet him. Briskly making your way towards the elevator you pressed the button furiously in hopes it would get to your floor faster.

Once inside you let out a big sigh and waved your hand in front of your slightly sweaty, heated face. Bucky seemed like he genuinely wasn’t aware of the noise he was making, and the way you passive aggressively called him out on it made you feel like shit.

But what was worse was knowing there was a face, a drop dead gorgeous face that is responsible for making the women of New York scream in ecstasy every night. It was going to be very difficult to concentrate in class today.

Getting home later that afternoon you were anxious to make something to eat, but more anxious about Bucky, hoping you wouldn’t run into him again. As you opened your door your foot slid on something and as you looked down you saw a small envelope with your name written on it.

Inside was a $50 gift card to The Grind House with a little note. I’m truly sorry about the noise. –Bucky

Your mouth opened in shock at the realization that Bucky did this nice gesture for you, and worse, you were going to have to thank him.

PART 3

[quaranteehee]

“Leave Your Lover” - Kuroo Tetsuro x Fem!reader ANGST

Leave Your Lover - Sam Smith

Summary: You’ve always loved him, but he wouldn’t know... even as you bid your farewells on the hospital bed. Because he’s a dumb fuck.

“Y/n! Yo... YO Y/N!!”

“Testu shut up I’m trying to tell you something!!”

“Okay Okay but shut up first I’m trying to talk-“

“BOI IF YOU DONT-“

He shoves the palm of his hands against your mouth, muffling the rest of your sentence. With twinkling eyes he proceeds to state the reason behind his excitement, “Kazuko Tomomi said yes!”

You slap his hands away. “What do you mean?? Yes to what? That could be anything- yes to babying your sorry ass? Finishing your English homework?? What does Kazuko-“

“A date,” he smiles at you broadly as he takes his fingers across his hair in disbelief. “She finally said yes.” A hearty chuckle escapes his lips before he plops himself back down on the grassy slope sandwiching the river beneath the highway.

“Congrats, you two!”

Kuroo hummed in response, mindlessly toying with the pastures between his fingers.

“Anyway what did you want to tell me again?” He sheepishly inquires with a lazy smile

“Ah, that? Never mind it. I guess it was nothing after all.”

But it wasn’t nothing. And in that space in time, you began to wonder what it would cost if you continued to protect this lie.

- - -

“Testu! I won- I actually won!”

Without another word, he scoops you into a tight embrace. You oblige by wrapping your arms around his back.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, training camp took its toll on me and well. I passed out as soon as I got home.”

You let it slide, he had a good reason to. You pull away and smile at him excitedly. “Buy me ramen and we’ll call it even.”

“Ah I can’t after school. I’m having dinner with Tomomi.”

It was a tradition to go out after a game. You forced an understanding smile, “that’s fine, tomorrow maybe? Before the weekend?”

“Can’t either. I promised Tomomi we’d watch that movie she wanted,” he scratches the back of his neck, “damn she always gets me to watch those cheesy dramas.” Despite his complain, a smile is plastered on his lips.

Oh god.. that smile- that damn smile. The perfect world you shared with Kuroo was distinegrating and you knew it. You were fully aware and you hated it.

“A-Ah, is that so?” You shift your gaze towards the window.

“I’m sor-“

“Anyway, enjoy yourselves! Don’t worry about it though.” You say a little too cheerily. Slipping on the strips of your backpack, you pretend to check your phone. “Ah, shit, I need to get my notebook back from Watanabe. See you!” Without giving him a chance to reply, you head towards the end of the corridor and disappear into the corner. Kuroo leaves soon after. As the sound of his footsteps dies down, you slump against the wall while staring hopelessly at the ceiling above.

- - -

“Thought is find you here.”

“Yeah?”

“It was obvious,” Kenma says over his PSP

“Well.. I figured I’d put in extra effort, you know?” And with that, you deliver yet another aggressive serve. The tennis ball lands exactly on the white line before bouncing off to join the others.

Kenma quietly tucks away his device and observes your practise. Glancing at the opposite end of the court, he notices an unnaturally large amount of neon balls rolling around aimlessly- the product of your training. Reverting his attention back to the Female Tennis player, he sees things he wish he was only imagining: tired eyes, a sloppy form, and a limp in your strides.

“Y/n, how long have you been here?”

“I’ve always trained here Kenma.”

“What time.”

“After school.”

“School finishes at half past three... it took a fifteen minute train ride, so assuming at you got here at four... “

“What?”

“It’s nearly nine”

You stop in your tracks and note that the colour of the sky has changed drastically. You’ve been practising for so long that you didn’t notice that you had been relying on the lights of the tennis court. “Oh. I guess I have.”

Bam. The ball ricochets against your racket.

“Tell Kuroo how you feel,” The Pudding Head says, carefully wording his sentence.

“He’s in love with her, though.”

“Stupid, not like that,” he sighs, “I mean, he’d understand. He really would. If it means taking off the weight off your shoulders, why don’t you tell him directly.”

You pause, clenching your jaw discreetly.

Kenma continues, “you’ve known each other for so long... if you tell him, he would understand. You’re his (y/n) aren’t you? He’ll still want you by his side, (y/n)...”

You let out a pained scream, startling Kenma, as you mindlessly fling your racket at the fence. How could you be so selfish?

“No. No, this is bullshit. Because he gets the best of both worlds from Tomomi and I,” you hiccup. “I am SICK and TIRED, Kenma-“ you’re shaking in rage.

Kenma watches you bubbling in anger- no. Not anger, but an unspoken sadness that can be mistaken for fury. His expression is gentle as he slowly walks towards you in the middle of the tennis court.

“SICK and TIRED of giving him all that I am when I can’t even have half of him. And you know what’s messed up? I don’t have any right to feel this way because he’s not mine...” your heart sinks to your stomach, “he’s not mine.. he’s with HER,” you grit your teeth, “AND... a-and he doesn’t love me.”

“(Y/n)...”

You fall to the ground, bursting into a fit of tears as the cold realisation washes over you. “He doesn’t love me,” you repeat.

The exhaustion that you’ve ignored slowly creeps up on you, paralysing your limbs until your vision goes pitch black.

- - -

You open your eyes and a blurred figure catches your attention. Sitting up, you rub at your temples. “Testu-“

“- will be here in a few.” The figure says.

“Kenma?” You glance, startled. “It’s 10 in the morning get your bitchass to school.”

“For someone that completely blacked out you sure are energetic..” he mutters in annoyance. “It’s Saturday, Dumbass.”

Surveying your surroundings, you’re suddenly aware that you’re confined in a hospital room. You begin to ask Kenma questions. He beats you with his response before you could even utter a single word,

“You’ve overexhausted yourself. No, you won’t die. Yes, you’re being discharged tomorrow. No, not today because of reasons I don’t know.” He watches as you close your mouth, his explanation seemed to have answered whatever questions you had in mind. “Look, I mean, I know tennis is a big deal to you and all but it won’t kill you to rest up once in a while.” Behind him rests your beaten up Tennis Bag. You catch a glance at your racket, some shirts, a tube of Tennis balls... and the letter.

“That’s not why you’re here, is it?” You ask cautiously.

He gives you a smile, his eyes glinting in a knowing manner. “How did you know?”

“Please. One, nothing goes under your nose unnoticed; two, that letter was in the racket section of the bag, not there,” you point, “where my clothes are.”

There’s silence.

“Duke University, huh?” Kenma says with a smile.

You mirror his gesture with a similar grin. “They were the only ones that got back to me. And it’s easier to apply for financial aid supporting international students for Duke than, yknow, NYU.”

“America,” he muses, “Oceans and oceans away.”

You meet the boy’s curious gaze.

“Kenma-“

“You have to tell Testu.”

- - -

Kenma’s text was the first thing that caught Kuroo’s attention as soon as he wakes up that Saturday.

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.” He squeezes past the crowd of people and sprints all the way to the hospital, practically slamming himself against the reception desk.

“How may I help you?” The lady cheerily inquires without hiding the concern etched on her face for the wheezing rooster head.

“(L/n)... I... I-“ he wheezes, “what room..?”

- - -

“Go easy on her...” Kenma whispers briefly before making his way towards the door.

“Kenma? Where are you going??” You call out desperately.

“Bitch I wanna play my games now tf.”

You glare at him, “But-“

“It’s okay. I’ll be here, right Kenma?”

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, Kenma thinks to himself. “Whatever. Don’t be stupid. Both of you,” he huffs before closing the door shut.

He places his hand atop yours before pacing his fingers around your delicate ones. You eye your hands pressed against each other’s for a second too long...

So. This is what it feels like to be yours.

You fight back the urge to cry. “Tetsuroo.. can I ask you a big favor?”

He quirks an eyebrow in response.

“Can you hold me? Like before?”

“Hm? In a headlock?” With that sadist response came a throw pillow flying towards his face.

“Like we were kids.”

He complies, getting up from the chair situated beside the hospital bed. You shuffle to make some room for the older boy who wasted no time in holding you in his arms. You cave right into his touch, facing him. He rests his chin on your head with your feet tangled.

“Is there anything else, your highness?”

You can feel his eyes roll. You chuckle, “yes actually: I want a triple tier chocolate cake. A pretty heart necklace, and a bouquet of-“

“Chill.”

You both laugh heartily. Amidst the silence that followed, you can feel his fingers rubbing soft circles in the small of your back.

“I want... I want you to stay with me for now. If you have to go, do it when I’m asleep,” you mutter loud enough to hear.

He nods as confusion washes over him. This all felt too familiar - sort of like de ja vu.

Like we were kids...

The sentence and the way you said it keeps replaying in his mind. He thinks of nothing but the familiar way he held you and vice versa when the nightmares struck. How you’d pull away only when the other was asleep. What struck him the most was why you felt the need to ask? To him, holding you felt like one of the most normal things in the world comparable to how natural it was for him to breathe. Nevertheless, Kuroo decided that it was a question for another time.

You begin to hum the tune to a song which Kuroo claims to know. Determined to pinpoint the song in particular, he rapidly lists titles of various compositions whose melodies were quite similar. You smile to yourself, he’s the biggest idiot ever.

It didn’t take long before you figured he was getting tired. With your fingertips, you traced gentle patterns into his forearms to help lull him to sleep.

“... pack up and leave everything; don’t you see what I can bring? Can’t keep this beating heart at bay...

His eyes dropped, and his breathing became steadier. Your voice was barely a whisper as you finished your song,

“Set my midnight sorrow free, I will give you all of me just-“ you choke back on your own tears, permitting yourself this last time to indulge in your own selfishness. “Just leave your lover... leave her for me.”

—————————————-

YALL THOUGHT YOU WAS GONNA DIE LMAOOOOO

[ikeservant]

How would the ikesen boys react to an mc who is blind but can take care of herself?

This took forever but I finally finished! 

MC has been blind for a good chunk of her life. She adapted quickly though through her sense of hearing and echolocation along with vibrations, being able to detect walls, objects, and people around her. She got sucked into the wormhole and BAM! Sengoku era! 

Nobunaga: She could smell and hear the fire around her and also..someone coughing? She followed the sound until she found the source, remembering the path she took so she can get out, and dragged Nobu’s butt out of the flames. “Do you know who I am?” “Well I can’t see you so nope.” When he realized that she was blind he was very impressed. “Men with all their senses in tact don’t have the bravery that you have. You are indeed a lucky charm.” He took her to Azuichi and told her that she could just laze around and have others take care of her if she wished, but mc is an independent woman that is able to do things herself so she immediately tells him to give her a job and she’d be able to accommodate to it. He admires her ambition and sets her to work. When she isn’t working he invites her to sit with him and chat bc he wants to get to know her as a person as well as how she’s able to adapt to the world without the sense of sight, intrigued with the clever methods to manage on her own. He feels inspired by her to create an education program for his citizens affected with physical limitations and how to help them live a fulfilling life while feeling capable just like mc.

Hideyoshi: His suspicion of mc decreased dramatically when he found out, as a matter of fact, she is blind. Suspicion immediately turned into concern and pity, making him really hesitant of Nobunaga letting mc do chores since she wanted to earn her keep. He was silently watching her with her rag and bucket, ready to step in the moment he sees her struggle. Instead, he sees her stepping around the perimeter of the outside hallway, mentally mapping out the length and width of the hall. Then, picking up the rag, cleaned the whole hall without a problem. Afterward, he approached her and told her about his concerns and worries of her struggling. She reassured him that she was able to live on her own for the most part where she came from, and as long as she made a mental map of the castle and heard when she was getting close to a wall or object, she would be just fine. He’d still insist on going to the market with her since it’s hard for anybody to navigate by hearing and mentally taking notes when there’s a huge market crowd. VERY protective and VERY mama hen Hide around mc to the point where she nags at him to give her space bc she doesn’t want him to worry about her as much as he does.

Mitsunari: Very helpful while also being very curious about how mc strategizes her everyday life. While giving a tour of the castle, he could tell she was taking her time while using her other senses to get a feel for each area. When he talked about her possibly having a helper maid to take her from place to place, mc answered “No need. I now know the area. I’ll ask somebody if I get lost but I’ve got a good mental map of the area.” “Very impressive, mc!” Mitsunari would beam. Mc can take care of herself better than he can, making that the staple point that the others drive into Mitsunari so he actually starts taking care of himself. They often brainstorm of ways to help mc do errands. Like with delivering scroll letters, cutting off a small little square at the bottom in a certain area so she can tell who is getting what letter and travel accordingly (ex: cut in left corner is Nobunaga’s letter. Cut in right corner is for Hideyoshi. Square cut in the middle on the bottom of the scroll is Ieyasu, etc.) Thinks mc is smarter and has a stronger willpower than anybody he’s ever met (besides his “friend” Ieyasu) bc of how she’s able to think and adapt to compensate for her lack of eyesight to survive and be capable and on equal footing as everyone else.

Masamune: He found out when trying to flirt with mc. “Hey I’ve had my eye on you this whole time, lass.” “Wish I could say the same. But that’s physically impossible.” “Ha! I see you have a sense of humor. I would have said I had my EYES on you but that would be only half true.” Both would probably joke about their eyes and brush it off as no big deal. Impressed that by her second day he saw her in the halls carrying supplies by herself, already aware of the area. “Masamune, is that you?” “Yeah it is! I’m impressed! Your senses must be very on point.” “That or the fact that you always smell like spices and walk kinda funny.”mc laughed. Likes how free and independent mc’s spirit is, admiring how she doesn’t let her disability stop her from doing what she wants to do, finding ways to adapt to things. Since boi really likes to write letters but would have to have someone else read it to her while he was away, she taught him braille. Giving him a guide with a scroll listing the indents/holes that indicate different characters, he was able to give her flirty messages while he was away and imagine her blushy face while she’s reading the letter herself.

Mitsuhide: Could tell almost right away that mc was blind. Would secretly be watching over her to see if she was having trouble. Every time he would walk up to her with a “Are you lost, little mouse? It must be hard for you.” in a condescending tone to tease her while also being slightly concerned. “No. I know I’m in the right hallway to go to the cleaning supply room. Just two more lefts then a right and about 10 paces to the left.” He actually was shocked for a second but felt like praising her for having a sharp mind. Tries sneaking up on her but she can always tell he’s near due to just sensing his presence and hearing just the slightest glide of his feet on the hallway, calling him out. Sees a bit of himself in her, being mentally prepared and alert of their senses to adapt and compensate for their shortcomings. When deciding to teach her because he wants her to survive and thrive in this cruel world, he realizes he’ll have to read everything to her and verbally quiz her. However, she introduced him to braille, intriguing him and inspiring him to use it as a new secret code language to send info. Also feels like it’s a special bond between them.

Ieyasu: Would be against mc doing chores or going around by herself because she’ll just be an inconvenience (not because he just doesn’t want her to get hurt I write sarcastically). Would make him stand up and follow her as she gives him a whole tour of the castle, remembering every hallway within one week. He’s glad that mc can’t see how embarrassed his face is that she’s better adapted than he thought. He’d still lowkey be like mama hideyoshi, silently watching her and trying to tell her that she should still be careful. He draws the line at her planning on going to the market on her own because things are constantly shifting and changing there and the noisy crowd might throw her off, leaving him no other choice but to escort mc. As thanks, mc would buy him something spicy, using her nose and advice from others to get him the gift. Normally mc is able to go through the day fine, but sometimes she’ll accidentally tumble, causing Ieyasu to lightly scold her while checking her bruises and letting her see Wasabi. She was SHOOK finding out that she was petting a cute lil deer since she could tell it was a smaller 4 legged animal with lil hooves but didn’t know that it was a baby fawn. Ieyasu would also give mc a walking stick to help her navigate better, especially in unfamiliar areas or areas with possible obstacles in the way.

Kenshin: Was at the bar minding his own business when he heard a cane tap a seat next to him. Mc sat next to him, ordering something to drink. “If you were to try to find a woman, how long would it take to find her in this bar?” she’d ask, hoping that she could get some free time away from an overbearing escort. “Depends on the target. Why? Did you start a fight? If so, can I get in on it?” “Oh nah. I want a break from being smothered with attention and feeling like I need help. If I can go to this specific bar blind then that should be proof that I don’t need helpers for short trips.” He was surprised a woman, much less a blind woman, was confident in her abilities to get from place to place while being sure of herself. Mc and Kenshin met quite a bit after that and the more he heard her complain about her work, the more he realized she was working for the Oda. Not trusting the Oda and not wanting her to face a horrible fate if someone overtakes the Oda first, he convinces her to move into his castle. She memorizes the area quickly and feels less crowded with warlords, but the closer she gets to Kenshin the more he is overbearing and protective over her safety. She gives him several demonstrations of her doing tasks by herself to convince him that it’s very low risk and that she enjoys feeling independent and capable. Although overprotective, he thinks she has the most determined spirit of anyone he’s ever met and will cut down anybody that makes her feel weak or helpless because she’s far from that in his eyes, even if he still worries about her.

Shingen: Shingen was well aware that almost all the women at the tea shop were swooning over him, all except mc, who was eating sweet buns and drinking tea in the corner while waiting for some of the warlords to come back from their long in-town meeting. He tried winking at her, but she just kept staring off and making no expression change. He decided to walk up to her, feeling curious. “Whoever smells like woodchips and cologne that is walking up to my table, please state your business.” Since he’s very intuitive, he’s able to realize mc is blind by now. He decided to have a normal conversation with her, learning how she’s able to stay strong and manage w/o sight. When he saw the other warlords coming back he bolted, but realized she was working for the “terrible” Nobunaga. Since in his mind he thinks the Oda are going to hurt/take advantage of her, he makes an elaborate plan to take her away. When she got to Kenshin and Shingen’s place, she was FUMING bc of being kidnapped. However, Shingen explained everything about how the Oda overtook his homeland and all the horrors he’s seen them do and how he wanted to save her from facing that same fate. Mc pretty much told him that it isn’t his choice to make that call but understands from his voice that he’s being sincere so she decides to stay for a while. He’s very impressed she knows the whole layout of the castle and can tell when he’s walking up to her because he has a “flirty saunter”. When she does feel a little down about being blind he helps her find silver linings like how she’s been able to be braver and determined to adapt, and how she is able to look at someone’s character and words instead of being thrown off by physical appearances. Although he is chivalrous and offers to help her with tough tasks, he will ROAST anybody that calls her weak or fragile because she’s the strongest, most resilient goddess in his eyes. Would make a beautiful wooden cane for her so she can look stylish while walking around outside.

Yukimura: When mc freaked out and ran away, running straight for the cliff, Yukimura caught her. “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING RUNNING OFF A CLIFF LIKE A WILD BOAR? ARE YOU BLIND?” “Actually yeah.” Yuki went o_o before trying to scold her more for running aimlessly w/o knowing where she’s going until Sasuke swooped in, recognizing she’s the person from the present and offers they take her in. Yuki agrees, not wanting anybody to get hurt cuz he’s a caring boi. Since he didn’t want her to trip on anything and could tell she was exhausted and overwhelmed at the moment, he gave her a piggyback ride to the castle. When showing her around he keeps awkwardly asking if she needs help or assistance and gets more embarrassed when she says she can do most things on her own. “Of course I can feed myself. I have hands, dummy.” Is glad she’s capable of doing a lot on her own so he doesn’t have to keep worrying about her safety. Lowkey forgets she’s blind at times but is glad mc can laugh it off and says it makes her happy that she can go about life so normally that people don’t notice her blindness. When mc talked about seeing eye dogs being a thing, lowkey he’s thinking about making Muramasa a guide dog if mc ever wanted to go explore so he can guide her and pull her along. Also embarrassingly asks Shingen to teach him how to carve wood so he can make her a walking stick with their names carved on it and will blush like crazy when mc feels the names on it and tackles him in a hug.

Sasuke: Found her running in the woods the night she landed in the Sengoku era. Since she was overwhelmed and scared for her life, not knowing what the heck was going on, she was stumbling and tripped, making a branch snap loudly. Sasuke, who was nearby, used his ninja hearing and went to investigate. She could hear him approach and turned towards his direction. “I HAVE A WEAPON AND I’M NOT AFRAID TO USE IT” she threatened, gripping her walking stick while whipping out a pocket knife. He noticed the red band around the white stick, which was the noticeable sign of a blind person’s walking cane. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.” “You sound like the guy from the temple before that big lightning strike. What the hell is going on?” He explained to her the current predicament and how they’re back in the Sengoku era. “I guess that explains why I teleported into a flaming building and just heard a bunch of warlord names and felt like I was in a historical reenactment.” Sasuke helps her go to Kenshin’s place, explaining to Kenshin her predicament and Kenshin agrees as long as Sasuke duels him every day for a month (RIP Sasuke). Is impressed how she’s able to remember how to get around the castle after just 2 days and makes Kenshin give her a job and proving that she’s plenty capable, earning Kenshin’s respect. He has faith that she is plenty independent and capable of living a decent life in the castle, but he still offers assistance in unfamiliar settings and will always come up with good ideas to help when mc asks for advice on how to get around certain tasks.

[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

Small Town Missed Connections-Part 1 (Jensen X Reader)

Donations (please help. Jobless, and decided to make this my new job so anything helps out! Thanks!) 

(New Series!!! Hopefully! Only if you all love it!) Shout out to @adriellej for being the best at helping me work through writers block!!! PS dont forget to let me know if you want to stay on the tag list!) 

                You heard your phone chime in your back pocket and a smile instantly appeared on your face. You almost dropped the boxes in your hands as you walked down the stairs from the storage in the upper loft of the building. “Easy, someone’s in a cheery mood today. What gives?” Amanda, the sassy 17-year-old blonde you’d hired for summer help, said as you reached the bottom, allowing her to take the top box. “Oh nothing, I just can’t be in a good mood?” you asked with a smile, which she knew hid a secret behind it. She narrowed her eyes and sighed “fine. But one day, I will get it out of you.” She walked away taking the box with her. “Don’t forget to go through that and price everything! I should still have the book under the counter!” you called out as you walked over to the coffee shop.

               “There she is,” an older more cracking voice called out. You set the box down behind the counter and turned smiling at the older gentleman. “Mr. Zukowski! Good morning! How is the coffee and muffin today?” you grinned asking a bit louder so he could hear you. “Good, good, thank you. You seem busy, I won’t hold you up. I just wanted to tell you, the weeds out front are looking a little tall, I could take care of those for you.” He smiled politely. You let a small laugh slip out as you came around the counter, “Mr. Zukowski, I’ve told you before, you help me out by making sure my coffee and muffins taste perfect. Now, I’ll have Zach bag up a couple of muffins for you to take home, and tell Mrs. Zukowski, I’ll be by this afternoon to check on your guys garden okay? I don’t want you back out there after your accident last time okay?” you nodded to him. “I’ll call someone to come and take care of those darn weeds okay?” you helped him back to his seat so he could finish his breakfast and finish reading the paper.

               “You are so sweet, thank you dear.” Mr. Zukowski smiled and patted your hand as he sat down. You smiled at him before going back over to the counter. “Every day, I don’t get how you do it. That man drives me crazy,” Zach told you as you opened the box. “Zach, it’s people like the Zukowski’s that made this sweet little town, just the way it is, perfect. Now, help me with these fall decorations.” You smiled. After getting everything-and everyone where they belonged, you finally had a minute to check your phone.

               ‘Why good morning, I thought you were never going to text me back’ Jensen texted back right after you’d sent good morning. ‘Sorry, it’s been a busy morning at the shop, now I have some weeds to pull, a garden to check on and I need to do a supply order, do you realize how much I hate ordering supplies. I wish there was this magical little button I could click and bam. All the supplies I need-ordered’ you sent back with a face palming emoji.

               Jensen began typing a response then stopped, then the dots came back again. You laughed at his constant typing-deleting-retyping thing he always did. ‘So, if I could spare your attention for a moment, I took a photo this morning and I wanted to get your opinion on it before I post it on Instagram, so do you have time?’ he asked with a heart emoji. You sent back a thumbs up with a smiley face, ‘For your photos Jay, I always have time. Let me see it.’ You sat back in your office chair and smiled as he texted the photo.

               It was of his lake house, just a side view though, from the front porch. The photo was capturing the early morning sunrise with silhouette of trees against the lake. You stared, mesmerized by the photo, wishing you had a large cup of coffee and were curled up in a warm sweater there on the front porch chair, watching the water as you drank your coffee. ‘Whoa…..that is A-M-A-Z-I-N-G, have you posted that yet?!’ you texted back instantly.

               A few moments passed before you had a notification from Instagram, Jays Photography had posted a new photo, with the caption, “Sure missing a near and dear friend this morning, this one is for her.” Two red hearts followed the caption and your heart beat just a tad faster as you liked the photo and replied “What a lucky friend. Photo is incredible. I’m sure she loves it,” you sent the comment and got back to work.

                As the day went on you and Jensen texted back and forth, talking about anything and everything you could want. Business picked up in the afternoon so you’d quickly found yourself busy with customers; meanwhile Jensen had found himself busy as well.

               Jensen had met up with Misha, Vicki, Jared, and Gen and was having dinner all together. “So listen, Vicki and I have been talking and why don’t we all go on a little vacation?” Misha asked the group as they all smiled. “That sounds so wonderful, I can have my mom watched the kiddos and we can be ready to go by the weekend. Where were you thinking of going?” Gen asked setting her fork down so she could take a sip of the strong red wine her and Jared were drinking.

               “Well, we want to go somewhere off the map, a small little town where we can relax and not be bothered by anyone.” Misha told her. Gen nodded after taking a bite of her salad, “There’s the cutest little town I found while googling the other day! We could go there!! It’s like 6-7 hours from here!” she smiled pulling up the name of the town on google.

               The group agreed, the entire time Jensen had remained quiet though, he had been waiting on you to text him back. When you finally did, a grin broke out across his face. “What are you grinning about?” Jared asked as he tried to take a peek at Jensen’s phone. “Nothing, I’m just texting a friend of mine.” Jensen told him. “Come on Jay, you tell me everything, except for what feels like the last 6 months where you’ve been texting someone and not saying a word about it to me. Who is it?” Jared asked again.

               “You never told him about Y/N??” Misha asked popping his head up between the two of them. “Y/N?? Who’s Y/N????” Jared asked before yanking the phone away and began reading through the messages. Jensen glared at him and tried to snatch it back quickly. “What the fuck man! Give that back! It’s mine!” Jared finally gave it back after Jensen had jumped and tried to reach it. “Dude, you need to meet this chick, you guys sound really interested in each other.” He told his best friend, but Jensen glared at him “My cell phone is private, you gonna blurt out anything else?? This girl actually means something to me,” Jensen shook his head and walked off, he’d walk himself home.

               You had just gotten out of the shower when you grabbed your phone, laid down on your bed and texted Jensen again. ‘Okay, finally, we have time to chat, sorry I’ve been super busy with work lately, things are changing and it’s all a little much for me to handle on my own.’ You texted back. A few minutes later Jensen texted back ‘hey 😊 don’t work yourself to hard okay? Believe me, I’m sure my ex-wife has a few stories she could share about how much I worked on my previous job, even though she worked too but that’s beside the point. I’m glad you’re finally able to relax for the night. What did you have for dinner?’ he sent back with another smiley face.

               You laughed and texted the picture of the take out menu, ‘my favorite Chinese place, it’s quick, easy and on my way home from work, plus they have the most amazing egg rolls in the entire world. I love them so much,’ Jay sent a message back a few moments later with two laughing faces. ‘Lucky, I love Chinese, I had dinner with a few friends of mine.’ The conversation carried on until you passed out mid-text. Jensen waited for ten minutes until he finally realized you’d fell asleep. He smiled, wondering if anything would you be able to meet some day? Would you like him, not because he is an actor and made lots of money but because he preferred chocolate syrup over his strawberry ice cream? Or how about the way he watches movies, a medium popcorn, because the small isn’t big enough to share, and it always disappears before the movie starts and the large is too big, way to much salt and butter; two candy choices, a sweet and a sour, both enhance and cancels the salty popcorn, as well as a large soda. How about how he cooks, slow, but to perfection, and there’s always a meat, potato, and vegetable. He was more worried you were just interested in the fame, not for who he really was. But maybe this trip would help him clear his head some.

@adriellej @sgarrett49 @smoothdogsgirl @mrssamfuckingwinchester @hobby27 @traceyaudette @mogaruke @thewalkingdistancefrom​ @booger206​ @ellen-reincarnated1967​ @heimganger​ @moonlitskinwalker​ @teamfreewill-imagine​ @stoneygirl​ @monkeymcpoopoo​ @sandlee44​ @asgardianvamp21​ @frozenhuntress67​ @babypink224221​ @just-another-busy-fangirl​ @flamencodiva​ @for-the-love-of-the-fandom​ @auriel187​ @animenerdz1819​ @jessica-marsh09​ @woodworthti666​ 

[mhdiaries]

Freaky Fusion Hybrids Bonita Femur Diary

06/10

I have a sweater in my closet that I have never worn. It sits on the top shelf inside a box, and the tags are still on it. It’s multi-colored and as bright as a field of wild flowers in the spring. I leave it in the box because I know that if I wear it, I’ll chew it. Oh I won’t mean to I’ll just get nervous and before I know it – BAM! Hole. So I’m saving it for a special occasion when I absolutely want to look my beast. That’s assuming of course that the anticipation of the occasion doesn’t cause me to gnaw through the sweater on the way to said occasion. Who am I kidding? I’m never taking that sweater out of the box, might as well just chew it up now and get it over with… blah… there may not be anything in the monster world that can make me as miserable as me.

06/16

Okay – big surprise here, but filling out applications of any kind makes me nervous. I once applied to work in a second claw clothing store and even though I got the job I chewed through the equivalent of my first paycheck in sweaters before I finished with the section on contact information. So you can imagine the jitters I got when I had to fill out the application for Monster High. I think I could have eaten my way through all the wool in Boo Zealand if mom and dad hadn’t been there to calm me down and help me focus. They totes keep me from turning into a casket case on a regular basis. I guess that must be why when I got to the scaritage section on the application I wasn’t nervous at all. It just seemed natural for me to write about them. Mom’s a skeleton and an amazing seamstress, weaver and all round fabric artist. Her tapestries have a haunting quality about them and she has a waiting list that is centuries long for one of her originals. They’re almost good enough to eat which dad and I are forbidden to ever do. Dad is a flyway patrol monster who has always worked the frightshift but on his frights off he would provide security for art shows and special events. When mom was just starting out as an artist she had a small booth at this weekend swap meet/flea market. It happened to be in dad’s security area so he would always see her there and they struck up a friendship. Dad even reworked his shifts, without telling mom, so he could be there when she was. Mom would weave treats for him although she never let on that it was something she only did for him. Eventually their friendship turned into love. I know it might not sound like a scarytale romance but it worked for them then and still works for them now.

07/10

I had a scary good time at the movies tonight with Neighthan and Avea! I love Veronica von Vamp movies and popcorn, lots and lots of popcorn – especially if the movie is suspenseful which this one was. Neighthan didn’t seem like himself though and he was pretty distracted. He kept looking around for Sirena who didn’t make it to the movie at all which I think made him really disappointed for some reason. Avea and I practically had to drag him to the Die-ner. It’s not like this is the first time Sirena’s forgotten to show up for something and she did eventually meet us at the Die-ner so I might have been overly sensitive especially with all of us wondering if we’ll all be starting at Monster High in the fall. I’ve never said anything to the rest of the gang but sometimes I wonder if we’ve been our own worst enemies when it comes to the other schools we’ve attended. We always just assume that we’re going to be rejected by other monsters, sometimes for good reason, so we keep to ourselves and never give them a chance to prove us wrong. Maybe it will be different at Monster High, not there’s a thought to chew on.

07/14

I was going to wear my favorite flower print skirt today but forgot that the last time I wore it was the day Sirena and Avea got into an argument that started over where to eat lunch and ended with something else which I don’t remember mostly because I was nervously chewing through my skirt. The flowers now look like rabid aphids have attacked them. So it was off to the thrift store for a replacement. I like going to the thrift store. I think when monsters hear “thrift store” they think, well I’m not exactly sure what they think although I believe if thrift stores started calling themselves “Style Museums” or “Adopt a Fashion” shelters perhaps they would get more customers. So I fluttered down to the shop I always go to but it was closed for inventory. I would normally have just gone home but there was another store a few blocks over on another street so I glided over to that one. It wasn’t as large as the one that was closed but it was bright, airy and everything was neatly arranged. Besides the store lurk, there was only one other monster in the place, a werewolf ghoul who had pink hair with orange streaks and a look of desperation on her face. She was whipping through the hangers of clothes on the racks so quickly I thought I saw sparks flying, plus she was also carrying on an argument with herself and it sounded like she was losing. I started at the other end of the store, just to stay out of her way, and one of the first things I saw was a haunt couture dress that was fangtastically underpriced and out of place in this shop. It looked like it would fit and so rather than trying it on I took it to the lurk to hold for me while I continued shopping. When I held up the dress I heard this bone-curdling howl from behind me and I turned to see the werewolf ghoul sprinting toward me. I almost ran, and would have, but I really wanted that dress. She went straight to the lurk and said, “That’s the dress – you have to give it to me!” The lurk told her that she would do no such thing and she indicated in my direction, “She found it, it’s up to her to decide what she wants to do with it.” The ghoul turned toward me and I could see tears filling her eyes. “That dress belongs to my big sister and it’s uber special to her. I accidently put it in a bag that I thought my mom was taking for dry cleaning, but it was actually for a community clothing drive. I’ve been to every thrift and second claw store in town looking and hoping to find it. Please.” How could I say no to that? After she paid for the dress the ghoul gave me a monster hug and on the way out the door said, “I think you’re wings are totes rad – you’re lucky to have something like that to make you stand out from the crowd.” Then she was gone. My wings are “totes rad”? Well, who am I to argue with a “normal” monster.

07/30

Dad came in from work this morning with a letter in his claw. “Looks like somebody forgot to check the mail yesterday.” The letter was addressed to me and it had the Monster High crest on it. I already had one corner of the envelop in my mouth when mom said, “If you shred it before you open it, you’ll really be in a flutter.” I slowly opened the envelope, pulled out the letter and read it first to myself and then out loud. “Welcome to Monster High…” We were all laughing and crying when mom left the room for a moment. She quickly came back with a beautiful tapestry. “I started working on this last year in hopes for this outcome so dig in,” she said. I took the tapestry and folded it up instead. I was going to need something to replace the sweater on the top shelf in my closet since I think I have a special occasion all picked out to wear it.

[seokjinsdisciple]

Misconceptions

jinyoung x reader (angst, smut, kinda fluff)

it’s no secret that you aren’t a fan of got7, in fact, you’ve written several articles about just why it is you don’t ilke them. When your editor asks you to do a piece on them, and spend a whole week getting to know them, you aren’t pleased. Can Got7 change your mind about them, or will your hatred be unwavering?

requested

Word count: 3.9k

warnings: ass grabbing, language, hate against got7 (i love them i swear), pussy slaps, unprotected sex, slight cock warming, maybe something else but idk man.

Listen, writing for Soompi was not your dream job. In fact, you had dreamed of writing a bestselling novel...but bestselling novels don’t pay the bills. Yeah, your job for Soompi wasn’t what you had in mind, but at least you have a job. That's what you kept telling yourself as you sat in your editor's office. 

“We want you to do a piece on Got7,” your editor said, getting straight to the point, “We want a piece about who they really are, and in order to write it, we need you to spend some time with them.”

“You want me to...hang out with Got7?” You asked a little bit surprised at the request. Your dislike for the group wasn’t a secret, in fact, you had written a few pieces about it when you first joined the agency. 

“Yes,” your editor smiled, “we are hoping that a piece like this, written from someone who is known to be a little harsh on them would bring a new perspective.”

It seemed like this was pretty much set in stone, and no matter how much you complain about it, there would be nothing else you could do. You just nodded, you needed this job. It paid well, and it allowed you to flex your writing muscles until you could write that stupid book. 

“Great, a car will be sent to your apartment tomorrow morning and you will spend the following week with them.”

“Yes sir, thank you for this opportunity,” you smiled through gritted teeth. You weren’t sure how you were going to survive this next week, but you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Got7 is known for being a little bit crazy, a quality that you weren’t very fond of. 

You found yourself at your desk, your thoughts of the week ahead of you taking over. You have to work to get done, and it wouldn’t help if you were too busy worrying about if they had read one of your articles or not. Plus, you had decided to go into this with an open mind. What better way to do that than to write out a list of all your preconceived notions of them. So you got to work, listing what you knew you didn’t like about them.

Things I dislike about Got7:

They all have peter pan syndrome (i mean can’t they honestly just grow up and act their age)

Their music is not that good (average at best)

They aren’t athletic and suck at games

Isn’t jackson just going to leave the group anyways?

Their dancing has become less synchronized

They all just want to promote a solo career or are waiting for their contract to end

They are only liked abroad

You left the list at that for now, open to add more things to it if they came to your mind, and you were sure that they would. You are going to really try to write a truthful article about their personalities. 

 Your workday passed without much thought. You completed everything that you would need to get done before being absent for the next week. You pack up your things, taking one last look at the list you had made before sticking it in the notebook that you planned to take notes with. You wanted it as a reminder for keeping an open mind. 

By the time you made your way to the small apartment that you called home, your thoughts had overtaken you once again. You were nervous about meeting 7 handsome idols, and you were nervous that said idols knew about your general dislike of their life’s passions. You lay awake, trying to calm down enough to get a good night’s sleep in order to not completely embarrass yourself.

You groaned as your alarm went off, much too soon might you add. You had only gotten a few hours of sleep because you had been so worried about today. You spent hours into the night watching their music videos, interviews and noting how they interact with fans. You wanted this piece to be good. You finished throwing essentials into your purse, before heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day. You hurried through your routine, running a little behind schedule.

You didn’t have much of a choice but to be ready as a knock rang out at your door. You sighed as you grab your purse, trying to prepare yourself for the day that was to come. You were met at your front door by Got7’s driver. You introduced yourself and he did the same, You made small talk as you were lead to a black van, making your way into a seat in the back. You wanted more time to think as you made your way to wherever it was you were meeting the boys. You scrolled through your socials, checking up on your limited amount of friends and admiring celebrities as you drove through the streets of Seoul. You started to collect your things as you pulled up in front of the JYP building. The driver led you through the winding halls, and down to the basement where you assumed their practice studio was. You made your way inside the room, music blaring as the door opened. 

The boys were hard at work, practicing their dances. The room smelled like sweat, and from what you could tell, they had been practicing for a while. You recognized each of the boys that had been in the music videos, all except Jackson. Where was he, why wasn’t he getting ready for the comeback with his group? Your mouth formed into a frown, pulling out your notebook to write down, just what it meant that he wasn’t here, but before you could, a voice rang out from behind you. 

“Hi,” Jackson said when you turned around, giving you a charming smile, “are you the reporter?”

“Uh- yeah,” you smiled at him, shaking your previous thoughts from your head, “how long have you guys been here?”

Your talking must have caught the attention of the other boys because you were met with Jinyoung’s handsome face. 

“We’ve been here since 3am,” he smiled, looping his arm around Jackson’s shoulders. 

The boys huddled around you. All introducing themselves to you with smiles and bows. The boys so far were everything that you had expected them to be. Bambam and Yugyeom were goofing off, getting hash looks from JB and orders to behave. Mark had yet to say a word to you, though you knew he was known for being shy around strangers through your research. JB was intimidating, though it seemed like he was trying not to be. The boys excused themselves so that they continued to practice their dance, but brought in a chair for you to sit in.

You sat and watched the rest of their practice thinking back on the answer you had gotten from them. They had been here since 3am? You glanced at the clock, impressed that it was 9am and that they were still working hard. They finished the run through and all of them were out of breath, sweating at the amount of effort they had been putting in. This is why you had to keep an open mind, you would not have expected them to put in as much work as they currently were. Plus you had caught yourself earlier with the whole Jackson not being here, you jumped to a conclusion that was not necessarily a good one. Yet, you had been wrong, and you supposed that you owed it to these hard-working boys to give them a shot. So, you pulled out your notebook and began writing. You wrote in detail about the way they worked, how dedicated they seemed to get everything just right. You had a lot written when you felt the tap on your shoulder. 

“Noona, it’s time to go back to the dorms,”  Yugyeom said, blushing a deep shade of red as he withdrew his hand. You could hear the giggles of the boys behind him, obviously trying to embarrass him, but you just smiled back. 

“Ok Yugyeom, let’s go,” you slipped your notebook into your purse, protesting heavily when Yugyeom insisted that he carry it for you. The eight of you made your way through the building and to the car you had ridden here in. The boys piled in first, with Bam sitting on Yugyeom’s lap leaving an empty spot next to Jinyoung for you. 

You tried to make polite conversations with the boys, but before you knew it, they had all fallen asleep. Well, everyone except Jinyoung. 

“So why’d you wanna write an article on us?” he asked, turning his head curiously at you, “You don’t seem like a crazed fan.”

“Well,” you started, you weren’t sure exactly what to say. You couldn’t exactly come out and say your editor had chosen you because you disliked them, so you settle for a half-truth. “I was assigned the piece by my editor, but I’m happy to get an inside look into what you boys do all day.”

“I’m sure you are,” Jinyoung just smirked, and you were irritated at how good he looked. It was very unprofessional the way you were flirting with him, but he didn't seem to mind. The car ride went much more quickly than it had this morning, and the conversation between you and Jinyoung was natural and very suggestive. 

When you arrived at their dorms, you followed the sleepy boys up to their floor. Their dorms were much smaller than you expected. The boys were laughing and playing around, Mark was ordering food, and JB was trying to show you around their dorm. It was chaos, but you couldn’t help but be amused. The way Bam and Yugyeom were wrestling had made Jinyoung start to scold them, but they just laughed at him and continued what they were doing. 

Up to this point you had been, for the most part, ignoring JB, but when you left his tour of the living room, and he was showing you their rooms you paid more attention. 

“This is Mark and Jackson’s room, and this is Youngjae and I’s room,” JB said, pointing to two rooms next to each other. They were small, in fact, you weren’t sure how two people could even sleep in there. You followed JB through the hall, coming to stop at a larger room, “This is Yugyeom and Bam’s room, and right next to it is Jinyoung’s room, which is where you will be sleeping while you are with us,” JB added, opening the door to an impeccably clean room. 

“I’m sorry, why would I be sleeping here?” You asked your heart rate tripling. What if JB had heard you and Jinyoung flirting, and now he was getting some sort of satisfaction in teasing you? As if recognizing your panic, JB just laughed. 

“Jinyoung is gonna sleep on the couch obviously,” he added, laughing again at your face. His answer confused you though because no one had told you that you would be staying the night this whole week. 

“I didn’t- I’m not sleeping here,” You tried to argue because clearly, they had misunderstood your editor. JB just looked at you funny, as if he was confused himself. 

“But your editor said you were supposed to sleep in our dorms to ‘get a feel’ for what it's like to be an idol. Did he not tell you?”

“No, he didn’t. But I really can’t stay here, I don’t have any of the things that I need,” You added, thinking about how terribly out of place it would seem for you to literally live with these idols for a week. You’re sure that their fans would kill to be in your place. 

JB shrugged shooting a quick text before addressing your concerns, “I just asked my manager when we would have time for you to go collect some things to stay and he said that it's gonna be tough to squeeze that in today. He did say that we should be able to tomorrow night, but no promises on that one.”

You just groaned, following JB back into the living room and throwing yourself onto the couch. All of the boys were looking at you as if you were some alien as you tried to collect your thoughts and calm down. Not only were you stuck doing this piece but you were stuck living with these crazy, loud, nice, handsome men for an entire week. Plus you had no chance of clothes, no toothbrush and no sense of what the hell you were going to write in this story. 

“What’s wrong with noona?” Yugyeom’s voice echoed into the room, as you felt a dip in the couch beside your form. JB explained to the group your situation, and you wanted to scream because they were all being so nice and considerate and you hadn’t expected that from them. By the time he was done, you had a mixture of different comfy clothes, socks, and even a stray hair tie. The only thing you were missing was a toothbrush, and honestly, you could use your finger if you needed to. 

You were settling in, getting ready for the schedules that the boys had today, and pretty soon you find yourself observing them at those schedules. The constant flirting from Jinyoung aside, you weren’t having a terrible time so far. It wasn’t long before you find yourself back at the dorms, the boys complaining of hunger and you were inclined to join in. You ate together, watched a few movies, and had genuine conversations with each of the boys. You weren’t sure when you were taken to bed, but you were there in the morning. The boys were kind to you the following day, they had noticed Jinyoung’s little crush and had started to tease him with it, but they didn’t fail to see the way you reacted to him either. You forgot for a while that you were supposed to be writing a piece, so when you can, you started to jot things down that you wanted to be sure to include. 

It was three days later, your fourth day with the group that they finally had a chance to get your things from your apartment. Conveniently, when you asked the boys to come with you, they all had plans. The only person who was free was Jinyoung. 

So here you sat, flirting back and forth as their driver took you back to your apartment to grab some clothes. You had been forced to wear different sweatpants and t-shirts to accompany the boys on their schedules, and you were glad to finally wear something that belonged to you. 

When you arrive, it took no time at all for Jinyoung to begin snooping. For the most part, you just let him be, he couldn’t find anything too embarrassing. At least, you thought so. A thought which was swiftly proved wrong when he came out of your room holding your purple, vibrating dildo. 

“Jinyoung,” you rushed over to him, giving him a glare, “what the fuck!” “Is someone lonely?” He smirked, dangling the toy just out of your reach. 

“Shut up-” you hit him lightly, jumping to try and tear the toy out of his hands. 

“Hmm, I don’t like that tone sweetheart,” He warned, one of his hands grabbing your chin lightly. You would be lying if you said a pool of arousal wasn’t forming in your core. His tone, the words he used, the way he called you sweetheart and the perfect pressure he was using to hold your head in place all had you going weak-kneed for him. His hand brushed lightly down your front, wrapping around and grabbing your butt harshly. 

“I don’t like it when you are wearing the other guy’s clothes,” He practically growled, grabbing your ass a little more harshly than before. You couldn’t have whimpered if you wanted to, because his lips were pressed to yours immediately after. His teeth tugging on your lip, before finding their way into your neck. 

You found yourself pushing him towards the bedroom, your eyes shut as you desperately tried to hold onto each other. With a satisfied smile, he pulled your sweatpants down. Your hands found their way into his hair as he nosed at your core, pressing a gentle kiss to each thigh before pulling your panties down and rubbing a finger up and down your slit. You could imagine him inside you, and god, did you want him inside you. He let out a little chuckle as arousal started to become more clear. 

“You’re so wet for me sweetheart. So eager to take my dick in this tiny little pussy, hm?” Jinyoung questioned, rubbing my clit a little harder with his finger. You couldn’t answer him, your head was thrown back in pleasure. You moaned as he slapped your pussy. “Use your words,” he growled, sending another slap as he waited for your response. 

“God, yes I want you inside me,” you begged, the heightening pleasure leading you quickly to your high. Right as you were about to be washed with absolute pleasure, Jinyoung stopped. 

“I didn’t give you permission to cum yet,” he added, tugging the rest of both of your clothes off. You couldn’t take your eyes off of his member, standing tall and erect and bright pink. He led you to the bed, placing a soft kiss to your temple before resuming his relatively harsh actions from before. He dipped one finger into the arousal that was leaking from your hole and rubbed it on the tip of his dick. You couldn’t help but let out a moan as he pushed himself inside of you. He gave you no time to adjust before he started pounding into you. At your moans of bliss, he pulled one leg over his shoulder, letting him reach deeper into your core. You were left gasping for air as he hit your sensitive spot over and over again, filling you better than anyone ever had. He had set a perfect rhythm, giving you no time to forget what it felt like to be empty, and when you feel yourself getting unbearably close, you began to beg. 

“Jinyoung, I have to come,” you warned, “Please let me come, please, please.”

Your chants were getting repetitive, but you were starting to lose your mind. Jinyoung was effectively ignoring you, and until he placed a hand on your clit, he was sure he was going to deny you your climax. With his hand rubbing feverishly on your clit and his dick hitting you so deeply, it took you just seconds to cum. Moans and shouts of his name and incoherent praises and sentences left your mouth. As your climax ebbed away, Jinyoung kept up his motions, overstimulating you with both his hand and his cock.

He was still pounding into you, his pace unwavering as you scream from pleasure. Your hole was fluttering around his dick, his grunts and groans getting less controlled as he approached his own high. Your lips frantically met his as you felt his hips stutter. The culmination of all of the sexual tension and flirting from four days finally relaxing as you relaxed in his arms. You fell asleep like that, in his arms, cock still inside you. You spent the night there, sure to get questions from the boys in the morning but not really caring about the ramifications. 

When you woke up, the bed was cold beside you and figuring that Jinyoung had an early schedule, you threw on a shirt and walked from your bedroom. Your heart stopped when you saw Jinyoung, eyes intently reading a paper you had come to know well in the past for days. The list. Your list of things that you disliked about Got7. 

“Jinyoung,” you started, tears already welling up in your eyes, “I can explain.”

“Why don’t they just act their age? Their dancing isn’t as good as it used to be? Their music is just average?” Jinyoung listed off, reading from the list that had gotten considerably longer over the past four days.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear,” you pleaded, trying to approach him, he took a swift step away from you. 

“We work hard, we are good people. I mean, god everything we have done for you this week, and you’re planning on writing this shit? You were gonna crush Yugyeom by writing these lies about the people he considers his family. And god, don’t even get me started on the mind games you played on me. Jesus, I even slept with you,” he exclaimed, his voice getting louder and louder the angrier he became. 

“Jinyoung, I’m -”

“No, don’t apologize. Did you know the boys were trying to get you hired in JYP? We all loved spending time with you so much we-,” Jinyoung took a breath then, not acknowledging the tears that were now streaming down your face, “Just finish out this week and write whatever you goddamn want. Just don’t let the other guys see it.”

And with that he was gone, leaving the list on the table and you to find your own way to their dorm. The nest few days passed just like they had before. The boys doting on you and laughing with you, but Jinyoung wouldn’t even look at you. In fact, he was ignoring you so well that you barely even saw him. You wanted to explain yourself, to tell him that it was all a misunderstanding and that those notes weren’t what you were planning on writing, but you decided to give him some space. Actions spoke louder than words, and when you turned in your piece, describing how you had all of these biases against the group and how all of that changed when you met them and lived with them for a week. You were hoping that they would see it. You were hoping that Jinyoung would read it and realize that you had made bad assumptions about them without knowing who they were. This past week had been a transformative week, and you found yourself waiting for a text, a call, or anything that the boys had acknowledged your piece. But there was nothing. 

It wasn’t until late at night when you had too much wine and were tearing up at the thought of never seeing those boys again when a knock rang out at your front door. You shuffled there, not even bothering to look out of the peephole. You had ordered a pizza and were ready to eat your feelings. What you weren’t expecting was a tight hug from Yugyeom, followed by Mark and then JB and then all of the boys after that. You found yourself standing in front of Jinyoung, the two of you just staring at each other as the boys helped themselves to look around your apartment. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, glancing away from him. You couldn’t help but relax when you felt his hands cup your face, and his lips press against yours. The two of you breaking away as Jackson made gagging noises in the background. 

“Admit it,” Jinyoung smiled, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards your own couch where the other sic boys sat, arguing over a movie, “it was the sex that changed your mind about us, wasn’t it?”

You just laughed as Jinyoung smirked, smacking him on the chest before finding a spot to sit down and curl up. Jinyoung’s arm finding the space around your shoulders. You smiled as you took in the boys around you, so thankful for your editor for making you change your mind.

[sahbibabe]

A Mission For One

A Mission For One

Soulmate AU

Sephiroth/Fem! Reader

You are given the details of your mission. It wasn't your intention to be crippling the last of the previous AVALANCHE's funding, nor was it to face the risk of seeing Hojo ever again.

RENO, JUST LIKE RUFUS had said, showed up the very next day, just shy of seven in the morning. He didn't have Rude with him, which was unusual, and instead had a lowly grunt with him. He had a briefcase in one hand and his weapon in the other, shooting you a grin when you opened the door.

     "Ready to get started?" He asked, pushing past you to set up on one of the tables. He opened the briefcase with a flourish. "Might wanna sit down because I have a lot of stuff to tell you and not a whole lot of time."

       You locked the shop door and sat down across from him, eyeing the grunt who positioned his back to it with a rifle in hand. "Was it necessary to bring the gun inside?"

      "Him? Nah." Reno pulled out a file as thick as your fingers put together and set it aside. "Right, first thing I have to tell you is to hold out your arm."

        You did so obediently. "What for?"

      "This." Reno gave you no warning other than a smirk, and plunged what looked like a five gauge needle into your wrist. He injected a clear substance into you and, before you had time to jerk away, was done. "There. Your Shinra access chip. After the fiasco with keycards and AVALANCHE last year, we decided on these bad boys to secure the system. As long as you're alive, calm, and healthy, you can get anywhere you want to. I think the boss gave you B-Level clearance until you pass your physicals, then will up it to A-Level after that."

       You felt dread settle in the pit of your gut. You had never owned anything as much as D-Level access in your entire life, and that was just to attend a small court session to set up your tea shop and legally sell tea from Shinra suppliers. B-Level was a high jump, and giving you A-Level access after? Those were the same permissions that only Rufus's seconds in command got, only less to Rufus himself.

      "Reno," you asked slowly,"what the hell am I going to be doing that requires A-Level access?"

      "A lot of things," he whistled, thumbing through a plastic card case and pulling out an ID card with your face plastered on it. "Assassination, murder, espionage, sabotage, take your pick. The things we Turks can't do and get away with easily."

       The bad feeling in your stomach told you it was a bit more than that. You let it slide when he handed you the ID, noting the fluorescent finish on it and the expensive plastic it was made of, as well as the giant Shinra logo printed beside your head with a script reading 'VIP: DO NOT ENGAGE' along with your VIP permissions underneath, which extended to free hotel stays, you noticed.

       "What's this?" You asked, watching it shine in the light. "I already have an ID."

      "Yeah, but not one that's special like that." Reno then pulled out a manilla file almost as thick as the one he had brought out before, except this one had giant red confidential stamps all over it and was sealed with Rufus's personal seal. "It can get you anywhere and everywhere, just like the Turks, and more. Flash that thing and anyone will think twice about stopping you. Murder is easy with a card like that."

      "I'd imagine," you said, a little choked. You had, quite literally, just gotten federal permission to commit murder. Freely. In an effort to distract yourself from the fact that you'd just been given a 'free for all' card, you tapped the first file he'd pulled out. "And these?"

      "Paperwork for the doctor who does the exam." Reno shrugged when you gawked at the sheer size of it. "I know. It's a lot. But it only takes an hour. Drug tests and blood tests and all that. Even STD tests."

      You placed it aside in favor of the packet he now held. "I'm guessing those are my mission details?"

      "More like your trial targets," Reno supplied vaguely. "You won't officially start them until next week. You'll have a month to finish all of them. You can read up on them and memorize them until then."

      In Reno's hands laid the lives of the people you were about to take forever. Permanently. And it wasn't even what you were being recruited for; they were tests. That was it.

      He handed it to you and you broke the seal, pulling out one of the targets. A photo had been blown up to visible proportions, blurry and grainy, but you could make out the face well enough, recognized it even: one of AVALANCHE's older benefactors, a man by the name of Michael Dallien.

       He had donated a total of three million gil to the cause shortly after the mako reactor went down, you read, and had been funneling smaller sums to them ever since under the guise of fundraisers. At the bottom, stamped in blue, was the price of his bounty: four million gil, plus a bonus for delivering visceral proof.

       Which meant Rufus wanted his head. Literally.

       "As you can see, you'll get paid more than the three million gil for whoever you kill," Reno explained, pointing to a section near the bottom. "There will be others competing with you, though, but they aren't doing it with the accesses that you have. They work for other corporations wanting to overthrow Shinra. If you get to them first, the other corporations won't be able to nab their resources and bam, you get paid and you move on to the next one."

       The more people you found in the packet, the higher the bounties became, until you came upon a bounty on Rufus Shinra himself, priced right around one million gil.

      "What the hell?" You breathed, showing Reno the picture. "What does this mean?"

      "That leads me to your official assignment." The redhead plucked the paper from your hands and pointed to the list of mercs slated for the job; you weren't on it. "Our little Public Relations guy, Heidegger, put this up a few weeks ago. I doubt he knew we bugged his personal computer, but he's enlisted several attempts on the boss's life in the next couple of months. Now, the Turks aren't invincible, some are bound to slip through the cracks. That's where you will come in."

       "You want me to protect Rufus Shinra," you deadpanned,"because the Turks can't."

       "Hey, it isn't for lack of trying. He has so many enemies it's hard to keep track of. We keep eyes on the outside, you keep eyes on the internals. Simple."

      "You mean people like Heidegger and Scarlet," you supplied, realization dawning on you. "It's not because you can't, it's because you can't do it without everyone knowing who did it."

      Reno winked and pointed a finger at you. "Bingo. I knew you'd put it together. Rude owes me fifty gil."

      "That explains the ID," you sighed, waving the card around flimsily. You tucked everything into a neat pile in front of you. "Anything else?"

      "Yep. I took the liberty of pulling some strings and getting you a female doctor to perform your physical." Reno leaned back and crossed his arms, the grunt shifting nervously behind you. "Figured you wouldn't want Hojo snooping around in your insides again."

       The sudden horror you felt had you speechless. Hojo was supposed to do your physical? Hojo had none of the specifications for that, last you had heard, and that was when he was injecting your eyeballs with some dark fluid. To have him examining you from head to toe, even for the gynecology exam because it had to be on there too, made you want to throw up at the idea.

      "Other than that, though, all you have to do is get your Shinra tech fitted and your uniform. It's all unbranded so no one will be able to trace us if you get caught, and made with synthetic material that also can't be traced. You'll have to check with the boss about your weapons. Can't go to Scarlet." Reno seemed to be checking off some list and nodded to himself. "That's it, I think. Rude will drop by later and give you your rental keys."

      You were still caught up on Hojo doing your physical exam, even after Reno dismissed himself and headed out of the shop. It disgusted you on so many levels that as soon as you tucked your files away into your floorboards and put your ID in your wallet, you went to the bathroom to hurl up your breakfast.

      None of what Hojo did to you was memorable after the initial injection, but you recalled him speaking of something like,"Let Her see through your eyes," but it was muffled behind the wall of pain you felt. You remembered the pinch of an IV, trying to open your eyes and only feeling your eyelids as swollen as golf balls, and feeling nurses walk in and out to switch your dressing gown.

      Hojo would check, occasionally, prying your swollen lids apart and testing the tears and occasional pus that would stream out, ignoring your crying and screaming indignantly. He pressed the swelling, irritated them, scraped samples from your waterline, and then fed tubes into them to drain the pus out. It never ended well, because it would soon grow clogged with that black material he had put in, like a coagulated gummy pile of rot. You never bled, but the sheer amount of tears you produced left you dehydrated and desperate for water.

      You were one hundred percent certain he had also done something to your reproductive system, because after that, your cycles just became nightmares, even more so towards you leaving after he deemed you a failure. You never checked, though, too scared and poor to afford an exam, even when you now had the money and means to do so.

     But now you had to because of the stupid physical exam. Hojo had ruined you in more ways than you could say, and it was no wonder you lied to everyone in your life. You were petrified of trust because you, once upon a time, had trusted him to help you. That had been a mistake.

       Never again.

[just-my-sickly-pride]

Deep End || Roger Taylor x fem!Reader

summary || a week ago, roger asked you to be his friends-with-benefits. you invite him over to tell him your decision. things escalate, of course. modern day au. college au.

rating || explicit (18+). do not read if you are under eighteen. sub!roger, soft dom!reader, orgasm denial.

word count || 6.8k.

author’s notes || and here’s the next instalment in the try series! this one is set after ‘ask nicely’. i know, a lot of roger, but there’s more brian on its way too. if you haven’t read any other parts, it’s fine, this can be read on its own, if you don’t mind being a lil confused about certain details and conversations. there is mentioning of brian x reader. and i finally remembered to add on my tag list!

tag list || @drowseoftaylor​ @mrs-jack-murphy​ @bellas2silly​ @delilahmay39​

masterlist

     It had been one week since Roger’s drunken confession that he wanted a friends-with-benefits arrangement with you. It had been five days since he’d pulled you aside one day at uni and apologised for how he’d gone about it, then asked you again if you’d be interested, far more sheepishly than the first time.

    You’d told him you had to think about it some more, and he’d accepted it.

    And you’d been thinking about it a lot. More than you should have been, considering how uni was kicking your butt well and truly recently.

    You wanted to talk about it with Veronica, but then it’d become a whole thing, and you didn’t really want her to know. Same with Freddie and John.

    But maybe there was one person you could talk about it with.

    “Can I talk to you about something?” you asked Brian as the two of you walked to your lecture. You didn’t look at him, just kept staring straight ahead.

    “Always,” Brian said.

    “It’s about Roger.”

    “What about him?”

    You took a breath. “Um.” You hesitated, and then guided Brian out of the main traffic, off to the side. “Do you remember, last week, that party we went to?” you asked him a low voice.

    Brian nodded, leaning in closer to hear you better. “Mm.”

    “And Roger was drunk off his face?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Well, he told he that he… he wanted to do a friends-with-benefits thing with me. Same as I have with you.”

    Brian snorted. “Course he did.”

    You frowned. “What’s that meant to mean?”

    “I just mean, of course he’d want the chance to sleep with you all the time. Can’t exactly blame him. You had me hook, line, and sinker after just making out with me one time.”

    “Oh.” You tried to hide your smile, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Well, um, he brought it up with me again a couple days ago. I just don’t know what to do.”

    “What?” Brian said, screwing up his nose. “Say no. Roger can sleep with whoever he wants.”

    “But maybe I want it, too.”

    “Well, do you?”

    You sighed. “I don’t know.”

    Brian cocked his head to the side. “That doesn’t sound all too enthusiastic.”

    “Like, I’d want to sleep with him again,” you said. “And again again. And again again again. And–”

    “Fuck, all right,” Brian cut in. “I get it, you enjoyed yourself.”

    “I did,” you said. “But I just don’t know if – y’know, he could handle it without getting… emotionally involved.”

    “I don’t think that’d be an issue for him,” Brian said wryly. “He seems fine with sleeping around.”

    “But sleeping with one person multiple times?”

    Brian hesitated. “Look, if I can do it, of all people, he can surely do it. And if you make the rules nice and clear, I’m sure it’ll be fine. If you really want to go for it, then go for it. Just as long as I still get you, too.”

    You rolled your eyes at him. “Yes, you’ll still get me. Dick.”

    Brian laughed. The two of you resumed walking to class.

    “Why don’t you go fuck someone else for a change, huh?” you said, nudging him with your elbow. “Maybe take a nice girl out to the movies? Finger her in the back row of the cinema?”

    “Eugh,” Brian said. “No. I don’t know why on Earth anyone would have sex at the cinema. It’s way too weird for me.”

    You sniggered. “Of all the things that are too weird for you, Brian.”

    “I don’t care. I’m not fingering anyone at the cinema,” he said pointedly.

    “I wasn’t saying I wanted you to finger me at the cinema.”

    “I know.” Brian gave you an elfish grin. “The back row of the lecture hall, though…”

    You scoffed. “In your dreams.”

    “I have dreamt about it, yes.”

    “No fucking at uni, remember? A solid ‘Nickleback’ on fingering in class, thanks.”

    Brian made a disappointed face.

    You clicked your tongue at him, rolling your eyes, and he laughed.

    can we talk? come to mine this afternoon.

    It took almost an hour for Roger to reply.

    I finish at 3, see u then.

    “Roger’s coming over just after three,” you said to your roommate Lucy as she picked at her leftover curry.

    “That’s fine,” she said, moving the chicken around with her fork. “I’ll be heading out around four, maybe a little earlier. I’m meeting the girls for a catch-up.”

    “Sounds fun,” you said with a smile. The kettle finished boiling, and you poured your tea. “Will you be out late?”

    Lucy shook her head. “We’re just doing afternoon tea. Be home before dinner.”

    “Great,” you said.

    Lucy shot you a smile, shoved a mouthful of curry into her mouth, and disappeared out of the kitchen.

     “I brought snacks,” Roger said, holding out a packet of corn chips and salsa when you opened the door at twenty past three.

    “Hello,” you said, and took the snacks. “Thanks, you didn’t have to.”

    “It was on the way.”

     You stepped aside, and Roger entered. He stood in the living room as if he’d never been there before, gripping the shoulder strap of his messenger bag with both hands, watching you with wide eyes.

    “You look like you’re about to head off to your first day of school,” you said with a chuckle. “Go sit down, you’re making me nervous.”

    Roger did as he was told, taking off his bag and setting it down at his feet, sitting down on the couch. You sat down beside him, opening up the chips and dip and taking a bite.

    Roger did not take a bite. “What did you want to talk about?”

    “The–” You made sure to finish your mouthful. “The thing. That we talked about a few days ago.”

    Roger nodded. He’d known, clearly. “Is, er, Lucy still here?”

    “Mm, she’s in her room,” you said.

    Roger seemed to deflate. “Oh. Yeah, cool.”

    You didn’t miss it. “What?”

    He looked at you in confusion. “What?”

    “What’s wrong?”

    “Nothing,” Roger said. “I completely understand. It’s totally fine, I won’t bring it up again. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

    “Huh?”

    “The…” Roger dropped his voice to a whisper. “The friends-with-benefits thing. It’s all right.”

    You shook your head. “No, Rog, I’m here to tell you that I want to try it.”

    Roger stopped. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Uh, what?”

    “I wanna have sex with you,” you said. “On a semi-regular basis.”

    Roger’s eyes lit up. “You do?”

    “Yeah, dude.”

    “I just thought – with Lucy here…”

    “I don’t wanna have sex now,” you said with a snort. “It doesn’t have to, y’know, kick off with a bang or anything. There’s a bit to talk about first.”

    “Like what?”

    So you laid out the rules. The check-ins were the main thing. Honesty and complete emotional transparency was of utmost importance, no matter how awkward and horribly vulnerable it was. You couldn’t back out of a check-in – either person could ask for one at any time, and a response was required from both people. No fucking at uni, no getting romantic, no dates. The whole thing could be called off whenever by either party, no questions asked. Sleeping with other people was on the cards. If someone started getting romantically involved with a person outside of the arrangement, then the arrangement was off.

    Roger listened intently, nodding. You could see it dawning on him how serious you were about all the rules you were listing, but if it scared him off, you didn’t care.

    When you eventually finished, you said to him, “That’s about it. Is there anything you wanted to ask me?”

    Roger blinked. “Uh. No, I don’t think so. Apart from, uh, how often do you wanna… meet up?”

    You shrugged. “We can feel it out. When are you free?”

    “Whenever,” Roger said, and the word fell out of his mouth like it had tripped and stumbled.

    You grinned. “Bit eager.”

    Roger’s cheeks went pink. “I meant, like, y’know.” He shrugged. “Whenever. I’m chill.”

    “No, it’s sweet,” you said reassuringly. “What about on Friday night? Although you probably have plans, knowing you.”

    “Not really,” Roger said. “I usually just go out with the boys, but it’s not important. I’d much prefer…” He ducked his gaze, and laughed at himself. He ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t believe–” He shook his head, and sighed, lifted his head, and stared you right in the eye. “I don’t know how you turn me into a mess like this. Fuck you.”

    You laughed. “I’m not trying to, I promise.”

    “I know. That makes it even worse.” He scoffed. “‘Sweet’. I’m not sweet. I’m hot as fuck. I’m – I’m fuckin’…” He floundered. “I’m hot shit. I’m a bad – bitch.”

    You burst out laughing. “You’re a bad bitch?”

    “Yeah!” Roger exclaimed, doubling down. “All the women fuckin’ fall at my feet. I’m so good at chatting people up. Two minutes – bam! That’s all it takes.”

    “God, Rog, stop,” you said, trying to catch your breath. “Ah, my stomach hurts.”

    “Tell me I’m wrong, though.”

    “You’re wrong.”

    Roger gaped. “You – I’m not!”

    You gave him a bewildered look. “I can’t even tell if you’re joking or not.”

    “First time I got a girl to call me Daddy and I nailed it,” Roger boasted. “You were begging for me.”

    You shushed him, slapping him on the arm.

    “Ow,” he said in a small voice.

    “Lucy’s in her room,” you reminded him in a hiss.

    “Sorry,” Roger said, rubbing his arm to soothe it.

    “Sorry, I shouldn’t have hit you, I wasn’t thinking,” you said, and kissed your fingers, then lightly pressed your fingers to where you’d hit him.

    He pouted. “Thank you.”

    “Do you want to go to my room?” you suggested. “I think Lucy’s leaving soon, she’s heading out.”

    Roger checked his phone. “Yeah, all right,” he said, “I can stay for a bit.”

    You should’ve known. You didn’t know how it hadn’t occurred to you what would end up happening, but it hadn’t.

    You and Roger lasted about ten whole minutes alone in your room before you were making out on your bed.

    His kisses were just as gentle as the first time, but you allowed yourself to enjoy it, not eager to rush into anything else, happy to just stay mildly turned on. You noticed his fingers would occasionally drum out a rhythm on your hip or your thigh as you kissed, his mind disappearing somewhere else before he brought it back. You liked it, liked being able to know what he was thinking, where his mind was.

    Your top ended up on the floor before too long, beside Roger’s, and you straddled Roger’s waist. His hands felt heavenly smoothing up your back, and you shivered. He kissed your throat and your collarbones, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of it, combing your hand through his hair absentmindedly.

    “I can’t believe you said yes,” Roger murmured against your skin. After almost twenty minutes of silence between you two, his voice almost made you jump.

    You smiled. “Can’t believe it? Why not?”

    Roger pressed another kiss to the hollow of your throat, and then leant back, tilting his head up to look at you, and you met his eyes. “I mean, it was a big ask,” he said. “You didn’t have to say yes. I imagine the whole thing with Brian keeps you busy enough.”

    “I said yes because I wanted to,” you said. “Because you made me feel really good, and I want to explore more with you. And I trust you.”

    “And I’m a bad bitch you couldn’t resist?”

    You giggled. “No. You are hot as fuck, I’ll give you that, but you are not a bad bitch by any stretch of the imagination.”

    “You’re so cruel.”

    You laughed again.

    Lucy’s bedroom door opened, and your head snapped towards the noise.

    “What?” Roger whispered.

    “I think Lucy’s leaving,” you murmured. You heard keys jangling, then the front door opening, and closing again.

    You waited a few seconds longer to see if she came back in again, if she’d forgotten something, but it seemed like you were in the clear.

    “Thank Christ,” you sighed, and took Roger’s face in your hands, kissing him fiercely.

    Roger’s fingers tightened on your waist, and he kissed you back, but when you pulled away for a moment he said, “What?”

    “Lucy’s gone,” you said. “I know I said we weren’t going to fuck today, but you’re really good at making out.”

    “I – I need to check the time,” Roger said regretfully, and disappointment sank in your stomach.

    “Oh, right, yeah, sorry,” you said, and climbed off him.

    You sat on your bed, chewing your lip, as Roger bobbed down to fish his phone out of his backpack. You let your eyes trail over his body, over his bare torso and jean-clad legs. He had a nice bum, small and perky, which suited his personality, really. You wanted to lean over and give it a smack, just to see how he’d react. Maybe not just yet.

    He had a really nice back, you thought. He was a drummer, and you could tell in the way the muscles moved under the skin of his back, the roundness of his shoulders, the strength in his arms. His stomach was soft – he was fit enough, but he clearly wasn’t interested in putting in the time to get abs.

    You didn’t care. You liked it.

    He raked his hair away from his face as he typed a response to a message. It was getting shaggy, falling in his face half the time. You liked that, too.

    He dropped his phone and stood up, turning towards you. “I think I can stay for a bit longer.”

    “Lucky me,” you said, reaching for him. He crawled over to you, and kissed you.

    You shoved a hand through his hair, roughly, feeling how long it was getting, and gave it a sharp tug. Roger made a soft sound, and you felt him melt against you.

    You pushed him onto his back and held yourself above him. “You like getting your hair pulled?” you asked with a grin. You reached underneath his head and tugged it again.

    Roger gasped. “Mm, yeah, might do a bit,” he said breathlessly.

    You chuckled, and kissed him again. You pulled his hair, harder than before, and he twitched.

    You broke apart. “Sorry, too hard?”

    Roger whimpered slightly, and shook his head.

    Your eyebrows shot up. “No? I pulled pretty hard.”

    “You can pull harder.”

    So you did. You pulled, snapping his head back, and you held him there, watching his eyes go wide, and he whined. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

    You finally let him go, and he was gasping for breath. “You can keep going,” he said. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

    You shook your head disbelievingly. “Greedy.” You kissed him deeply, making a tight fist in his hair, just hard enough to tease him, and you could tell how needy he was starting to get by the way he gripped your hips.

    You kissed along his jaw.

    “More,” he said. “You can give me more.”

    “I’ll give you more when I feel like it,” you said casually.

    He made a sound in protest, and it was then it clicked that the previous roles you’d adopted last time you’d slept together were quickly reversing.

    You let his hair go, and he whined. Your stomach clenched. Fuck, that was a good sound. You wanted to hear more of it.

    You sat up, on his waist. “Rog?”

    He looked up at you. “Mm?”

    “I think today’s gonna be different from last time.”

    He nodded. “I think so too.”

    “What do you wanna do? Where do you see it going?”

    He looked away, flustered. “We don’t have to… talk about it.”

    “I just want to make sure.” You paused. “I think… I’m gonna be in charge today. How’s that sound?”

    Roger looked back to you, and you could see the hunger in his eyes. He nodded. “Yeah, I – I like that. I’d like that.”

    “And,” you continued, shimmying down Roger’s legs to go for his belt, “you’re going to do as you’re told. Understood?”

    “Yes ma’am,” he said, and then he flushed scarlet. “Sorry. I mean, um, yes.”

    “No, it’s okay, you can call me that, if you’d like to,” you said. You finished unbuckling his belt, and undid his jeans, unzipping the fly. “I’m all right with that. Do you wanna call me that?”

    “Yes ma’am.”

    “Sounds like you’re gonna be a real good boy for me, huh?”

    “Maybe.”

    You paused, blinking at him. “Oh? Maybe?”

    Roger grinned cheekily. “Maybe.”

    “Maybe who?”

    “Maybe, ma’am.”

    “Hm,” you said in thought. You climbed off him. “Jeans off.”

    He took them off.

    “Lie down.”

    He did.

    You stood up, and took your jeans off, slowly, unhurried. If you made a bit of a show of it, arching your back a little and sliding the jeans down your thighs, that was your business.

    When you looked back to Roger, he was practically drooling where he lay, his eyes fixated on you with laser focus.

    “You good?” you joked, tossing your jeans aside.

    “Oh yeah,” Roger said emphatically, nodding, making you laugh. He bit his bottom lip, his eyes sweeping up and down your body. “God, you’re fucking hot.”

    You glanced down at yourself instinctively. You were just wearing your everyday bra, a comfy pair of underwear. Nothing as racy as what you’d worn the first time you and Roger had slept together.

    Roger clearly didn’t care.

    You tried not to preen from the compliment. Yeah, you knew you were hot. But a reminder was always nice.

    You climbed back on the bed, settling on your knees on top of Roger’s hips, grinding yourself a little against him, making his eyelashes flutter, his hands gripping your thighs.

    You smiled, cocking your head to one side, thinking. “Hm,” you said. “What to do with you?”

    Roger just waited patiently, his face open, his breath coming in short bursts.

    You leant down and brushed your lips against his, just barely, and he chased the kiss, whining softly. You smiled, and instead started kissing his neck. His hands stroked up and down your back, lightly, and you began grinding against him a little more. The friction felt so good, the drag of your underwear on your clit, that you sat up again to find a better angle, grinding harder. Roger gasped, and you could feel him rapidly hardening underneath you, but you ignored it, ignored him, focused only on finding a rhythm that made you feel warm, made your blood feel electric.

    You were breathing heavily, your head bowed, bracing yourself on Roger’s chest, and Roger was squirming.

    “Ma’am,” he pleaded, his hands coming to your waist to try to still you. “Please, I can’t–”

    You grabbed his wrists and pinned them beside his head, and rolled your hips, hard and slow, making him whine.

    “What’s the matter, Rog?” you asked, a touch breathlessly. “You don’t like that I’m not giving you attention?”

    Roger struggled against your hold on him. “I–”

    “I was enjoying myself, Roger. I don’t like that you interrupted me.”

    Roger stopped struggling.

    You kissed him, hard, and then broke away to whisper in his ear, “You’re going to watch me for a bit, okay? Just watching.” Just for a bit. Some light teasing, then you’d let him touch you.

    You pushed yourself away from him, climbing off him, leaving him cold. He looked at you like you’d just kicked his pet dog. “No!”

    “Sit up,” you said. “Move back.”

    “Let me eat you out,” Roger pleaded, but doing as he was told, getting up and shifting back, sitting back on his heels. “I want to, please? Let me taste you. I’ll make you come at least twice, I won’t stop until I do. As many times as you want. Please.”

    You took off your underwear and bra, settling comfortably, leaning back on one hand, your legs sprawled out in front of you, and Roger made a helpless, desperate sound.

    You ran your fingertips over your skin, over the swell of your breasts, over your inner thighs, just teasing yourself, and Roger sobbed, his fists twisting in the sheets.

    “Ma’am, please, please, let me touch you, I need to, please.”

    “You’re so needy,” you said with a grin.

    Roger nodded, all dignity out the window.

    You started touching yourself, humming in pleasure at the familiar feeling of your own fingers. “Look at you,” you said, drinking in the sight of Roger, gazing at you hopelessly, pleadingly, his body flushed, his underwear tented, a dark spot staining the material. “So hard for me already.”

    Roger palmed at himself, and you said, “Nuh-uh. No touching.”

    “You didn’t say I couldn’t touch myself,” he protested, stilling his hand on his cock.

    “I know,” you said, and your breath caught, your back arching, as you slipped a finger into yourself. “But – but I’m telling you now.”

    Roger groaned, but forced his hand back onto the bed. His eyes zeroed in on your hand, and your finger, where it was disappearing inside you.

    You sighed, letting your head fall back and your eyes close. “Feels so good, Rog.”

    You pushed in a second finger beside the first, pumping them leisurely, every so often taking a break to play with your clit. Roger kept making small noises of desperation, whines and sobs, his breath trembling.

    “Maybe I’ll just make myself come like this,” you mused. You lifted your head again to look at Roger. He looked like was about to explode. Or die from the stress of it all. His knuckles were white, his arms and shoulders tensed, his mouth hanging open.

    Your hips bucked slightly against your hand. It was a good look on him. Really good.

    “What do you think, Rog?” you panted. You could feel yourself getting closer. “What if I just made myself come while you watched, and then sent you home?”

    Roger’s eyes snapped to yours. “No, no, no, please, no,” he ground out. “Please, I’ll be so good for you, you can do whatever you want to me, I want you so bad. You look so good, you’re–” He swallowed. “You’re so wet. I – I can hear how wet you are.”

    Your breath hitched, your hips jerking again. “You want to feel it for yourself, do you?”

    “Yes,” Roger whined. “Please, I – I wanna… I…”

    At this point, you had a feeling you were actually going to come on your own fingers. Roger’s voice, his face, his whole body and the way it was coiled like the tightest spring, it was all turning you on so much. So much for ‘light teasing’.

    You moaned. “Shit.”

    “You can do whatever you want to me,” Roger said again. “You can hit me, you can slap me, bite me, I don’t care, make me bleed, I’ll take it, I’ll take it so well, I’ll be so thankful, I’ll be good for you, just use me, anything, I– fuck, you look so good, please, ma’am, please.”

    “Fuck, Rog,” you said, unable to believe the filthy things pouring from his mouth.

    You were so close, way closer than you thought you would be, and Roger looked almost on the verge of tears.

    “Please,” he whined. “Please, I can’t, I need you, I need you.”

    That was the final tipping point. You came, gasping, your hips bucking against your hand.

    Your fingers circled your clit slowly as you came down from your orgasm. You looked to Roger. He looked broken, staring at your fingers, and you felt your core pulsing with the last few aftershocks.

    Roger moaned at the sight.

    You jumped when your fingers brushed over your clit, sensitive, and you removed your hand with a sigh.

    Roger’s eyes flicked to your hand, your fingers glistening with your juice.

    You decided to take pity on him. “Clean me up?” you said, holding out your hand.

    He looked to your face, checking to see if you were joking, just being cruel.

    “Taste me, Rog,” you said.

    Roger couldn’t get over to your fast enough, licking your fingers into his mouth, his hands curling around your wrist. He took your fingers in all the way to the knuckle, groaning at the taste, his tongue dragging over the pads of your fingers.

    “Good boy,” you said. He was still shaking, and the dark spot on his underwear had grown considerably since you’d last checked.

    You slowly pulled your fingers from his mouth, and he whined, but you only went so far, and then you pushed them in again, and he accepted them gladly. His lips looked wet and pink and gorgeous around your fingers, his whole body warm.

    You adjusted, sitting up, your other hand smoothing over his thigh, making him moan, as you continued to lazily fuck his mouth with your fingers. His long eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, his tongue earnestly swirling around your fingers every time you pushed them back into his mouth. He sighed, whimpering, and you licked your lips.

    “So well-behaved,” you murmured. “You look so pretty like this, Rog.”

    Roger tensed, his fingers tightening around your wrist, and he shifted, urging you to fuck his mouth deeper.

    “Oh, poor baby,” you cooed, smiling in amusement. “You’re so desperate you’ll take anything, huh? Doesn’t even matter if I’m not touching your cock.”

    Roger shivered, his hips twitching against thin air.

    You pulled your hand back, much to his despair, and you wiped your fingers on the sheets. “Normally I’d get you to use your mouth, to stretch me out for you,” you said, “but I think I’ve covered that just fine myself.”

    Roger watched you carefully, his blue eyes so full of hope yet so worried at the same time. “What… What does that mean, ma’am?”

    You cupped his cheek, and he leant into it, making a soft sound. “It means I want you to fuck me.”

    Roger’s eyes lit up. “What? Really? I can?”

    “If you ask nicely.”

    “Please can I fuck you, ma’am? Please?”

    You smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

    Roger’s beaming smile was blinding, and you couldn’t help but draw him in for a kiss. He made a happy sound against your lips, and you pulled away briefly to reposition yourself, your head on your pillows.

    Roger pounced on you, kissing you deeply, hungrily, harder than he’d ever kissed you before. You gave his hair a tug, and his hips jerked against yours, the first solid stimulation he’d received in almost the entire time. You gasped at the friction, and he immediately broke away to press his forehead against your shoulder, letting out the most guttural, broken moan, overwhelmed by how good it felt and desperately trying to stop himself from doing it again, to not come early. You could see the muscles in his back and shoulders tense like before, and they looked absolutely gorgeous.

    Roger panted against your skin. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Didn’t mean to.”

    “That’s okay, honey, you did such a good job stopping yourself,” you assured him, stroking your fingers through his hair. “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud. But it’s okay, I want you to fuck me. Take off your underwear for me?”

    Roger did so. He was so hard that it looked like it hurt. He must have wanted to scream.

    “Lube and condoms are in that drawer there,” you said, pointing to your bedside table.

    Roger’s hands were trembling as he fetched them, and he hissed as he rolled the condom on himself and drizzled lube onto his hand, dragging it up and down his cock as lightly as he could, pressing his lips together to muffle his whimpers.

    You reached for him, and he moved over to you without question, kissing you. “I can’t wait to be inside you,” he whispered against your lips. “I’m so lucky, ma’am, thank you.” He kissed you again.

    You were so surprised by what he’d said that you had no idea how to respond. You hoped he couldn’t tell how flustered you were.

    He kissed your neck. “Now?” he said in between kisses. “Now, ma’am, can I now?”

    “Yes, Rog,” you said, and he reached down to line himself up with your entrance. He started sliding into you, and you could see the way his breath stuttered. His head rested in the crook of your neck, and you hooked your legs over his hips. The slight ache felt good, familiar, and you stroked his back soothingly.

    He sobbed against you. “I…”

    “It’s all right, honey, you’re doing so well.”

    “You feel so good.”

    “You okay?”

    Roger took a shuddering breath, and then lifted himself up on all fours above you, his eyes slightly damp. “Y-yeah,” he said shakily with a small laugh. “Just… you do feel really good.”

    “Oh, hon,” you said with a small laugh in return, caressing his cheek.

    Roger’s brow creased, and then he thrust into you the rest of the way. Your breath caught, and he moaned. “Fucking hell.”

    You nudged him with your heels. “I’m good, I’m good.”

    “I’m not,” Roger said, then added a quick, ma’am, just to be safe. “Just… give me a moment.”

    “I don’t mind if you don’t last long,” you said. “I’ve already come.”

    “You made yourself come,” Roger said. “I want to do it. Please.”

    “Well, what am I gonna do,” you chuckled, “say no to that?”

    Roger smiled weakly, and kissed you once, then readjusted his position slightly, and pulled out a touch, then thrust back into you.

    “Oh, yes, Roger,” you sighed.

    Roger kept it slow at first, his arms still shaking as he drove into you again and again, and it was incredible, the way you could feel the drag of his cock in and out of you. You made sure to keep up the praise every now and again, just reminding Roger that he was doing such a good job and that he was such a good boy, especially when he started fucking you faster, and every time you did, he whimpered, and the sound went straight to your core. You could tell how intently he was focusing on not coming before you did, and it honestly blew your mind how he was able to do it. He had to pause a couple times to catch himself, and he mumbled apologies and kissed your throat and your lips so sweetly each time before he had calmed himself enough to begin fucking you again.

    You would’ve let him fuck you all day like this. He was being so good, so thoughtful and gentle and focused. You’d never seen Roger like this before, but you loved it. He was your good boy, your good boy who made such pretty noises and fucked you so well, who was so receptive to praise, who looked like he’d been blessed by God himself when you so much as touched his hair.

    “Fuck,” you hissed when Roger hit the right spot again, “just like that, yes.”

    Roger whined, hips snapping against you, hitting the spot again. “Shit, you feel so good,” he moaned. His rhythm stuttered, and he had to stop again, whining, pressing his forehead against your collarbones. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m sorry,” he panted, dropping a kiss to your skin. “You just feel so good, I can’t…”

    “You’re doing such a wonderful job,” you said, combing your hands through his sweaty, tangled hair. “You’re so close to coming, huh?”

    Roger nodded. “I – I was close when I first went inside you,” he confessed. “This is… I’m…”

    “I’m not stopping you from coming, honey,” you said. “I don’t mind.”

    Roger lifted his head, kissing your lips briefly, and shook his head. “Don’t wanna,” he said. “Not till you do.” He took a breath. “Are you–?”

    You bit your lip, not wanting to disappoint him, but: “Not really, honey. You’re doing so well, it feels so good, but I just need more to actually get there.”

    Roger nodded, his eyes growing determined.

    “Rog, you don’t–”

    “No, I can do it.” He kissed you again, then shifted, taking your ankle and resting it on his shoulder. Your leg was bent at the knee, and there was no way in hell you were going to be able to straighten it. You hoped he wasn’t planning on leaning too far forward, unless he wanted to tear your hamstring.

    “I don’t know if I’m that flexible, Roger,” you said with a laugh.

    “Please, ma’am,” Roger pleaded, and, well, you had to at least give it a try.

    You nodded. “Okay, sweetheart, we’ll give it a go.”

    Roger made sure your ankle was firmly in place, and then balanced himself on one hand, his other hand reaching between you, circling your clit. You sucked in a breath, your back arching.

    Roger started fucking you again, slowly once more, while playing with your clit, and the combination of his fingers, with you feeling every ridge and vein on his cock, with your leg at a new angle, sent your mind into a frenzy.

    “Oh,” you blurted, your eyes going wide, your fingers gripping the sheets beside you. “Oh, Jesus.”

    Every time you clenched around Roger, he made a muffled whimpering sound, but he kept going, his jaw clenched.

    You used your hand to keep your leg in place, because this felt good, and you did not want your leg to fall from Roger’s shoulder. You moaned helplessly. “Roger, God, fuck.”

    Roger said nothing, concentrating too hard on his task. The familiar coil began tightening in your belly.

    “Keep going, keep going,” you urged him breathlessly. “Ah, fuck, fuck.”

    Roger started driving into your harder, and your leg slipped from his shoulder onto the bed, but it didn’t matter, because Roger’s fingers were making fucking magic.

     The only obvious tell-tale that he was doing everything he could to stave off his own orgasm was the way he whined, “Please, please,” almost in a chant. His hips jerked off rhythm again, and he groaned deeply, but kept fucking you.

    “I’m so close,” you told him. “So close, Rog, come on.”

    He sobbed, his fingers working even harder. “Please.”

    The coil was tightening more and more, and you cried out. “That’s it, come on, fuck, so – ah – so close.”

    Roger was shaking with the effort, and you genuinely believed for a moment that he was about to come before you, but then he fucked into you just right, hitting that spot, and you completely came undone, crying out, your whole body shaking with the force of it. Feeling you coming around him, Roger followed immediately, hips ramming into yours, face buried in your neck, a loud, desperate sob punching from him, and he must have come hard, because he kept gasping out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” his body convulsing as he curled around you.

    Then it was quiet, apart from the sound of heavy breathing. Your aftershocks rippled through you still, slowly fading, and Roger twitched slightly every time they did.

    “Oh my God,” you said to the ceiling.

    Roger finally slumped against you, unable to hold himself up any longer, and, although it winded you and you were both far too sweaty, you didn’t mind.

    “Jesus Christ, Roger,” you said, combing through his hair again.

    He moaned pathetically.

    “You all right?”

    He let out a small whimper, but nodded. “Just gimme a sec.”

    You laughed, and patted his back. “All right.”

    He took another moment, and then struggled onto all fours, pulling out of you, and collapsed onto the bed beside you.

    You grinned at the look on his face as he stared at the ceiling, wide-eyed.

    “I,” he said. “Came. So. Hard.”

    You burst into laughter, and he looked to you, laughing himself, but still bewildered. “I did!” he insisted. “It was like I came five times in a row or something. I don’t think I can walk after that.”

    “I believe you,” you giggled.

    Roger shook his head, looking back to the ceiling. “Shit.”

    “How are you feeling?” you said. “We… got pretty deep into it.”

    Roger licked his lips. “I’m – I’m okay,” he said. “I feel a little… spacey? But I’m all right.”

    When you got a little spacey after you and Brian had gone harder than usual into the dom/sub dynamics, you only ever wanted two things: water, and cuddles.

    “I’ll get you some water,” you said, sitting up. It was more difficult than you wanted to admit. “Ah, God.”

    Roger chuckled. “How are you?”

    “Exhausted.” You shot him a smile. “Dude, we have the hottest sex ever. How are we so good at this?”

    “I know, right?” Roger said as you stood up and stretched, then went to throw on an old dress. “Maybe we should drop out of uni and become porn stars together. We’d make a bomb.”

    You snorted. “I know you’re joking, but I can also tell that you’re kinda not, so I’m just gonna say it now: I’m not dropping out of uni to become a porn star.”

    You headed to the kitchen.

    “Maybe think it over?” Roger called after you.

    You ignored him. You got yourself a drink of water, and were just finding something to snack on, when Roger stepped into the kitchen, dressed in his underwear and his shirt. He looked small, vulnerable.

    “Mm?” you said.

    “Um,” he said, stepping closer. “I… I don’t know.”

    Oh. Cuddles.

    You hopped up onto the kitchen bench and spread your arms. “C’mere,” you said, and he hurried over, burying his face in your shoulder, his arms holding you close.

    You just held him, scratching the base of his skull soothingly. He sighed contentedly, and you smiled.

    You showered first, and he went second. You lent him an old shirt and a pair of pyjama pants, which fitted him more like boxers. You were a big fan. He was not, but he didn’t really have much of a choice. He was unusually quiet, but he seemed happy, and when you offered to let him sleep over, he accepted wholeheartedly. For the rest of the afternoon, and then the evening, he was always touching you in some way, and you gave your cuddles freely. He curled against you as you both watched a movie on your laptop in your room after dinner, and he nodded off with his head against your shoulder.

    You let him. It was nice.

    The next morning, he was back to his old self. “What would you have done if I’d called you ‘Mummy’ instead of ‘ma’am’ yesterday?” he asked thoughtfully.

    You almost spat out your tea, glancing furtively towards Lucy’s bedroom. Hopefully she was still asleep. “Uh.”

    “Y’know, because you called me ‘Daddy’, not ‘sir’.”

    “Yeah, no, I get it.” You took another sip of tea. “Well, what if I’d told you to call me ‘Daddy’?”

    Roger stared at the table as he processed this. Then he looked back up to you. “Hm,” he said. “I honestly don’t know how I feel about that one. But you didn’t answer my question.”

    “My answer’s the same as yours,” you said. “I honestly don’t know how I feel about that one.”

    Roger nodded, and took a bite of toast. “Fair enough. Has Brian ever called you that?”

    “What, ‘Mummy’?” you said, and Roger shrugged. “No. It never even occurred to either of us.”

    “What does he called you?”

    You pulled a face. “Why do you want to know?”

    “I’m curious.”

    You were about to say something else, about how it was weird he wanted to know, but you bit your tongue. “He doesn’t call me anything, really,” you said instead. “Just my name. Even when I’m calling him ‘Daddy’, he… doesn’t really call me anything. He calls me a, uh, good girl, but, yeah, just my name. He’s not as big on the pet names during sex as you are.”

    Roger scoffed. “Well, he’s missing out, that’s all I have to say.”

    You chuckled. “Well, I’m seeing him tonight, so maybe I can ask him.”

    Roger raised his eyebrows. “You’re seeing him tonight? Like…”

    “Sleeping with him, yes.”

    “You’re not tuckered out after last night?”

    “Yeah,” you said with a shrug. “But I guess I’ll have to get used to it if I’m going to be balancing the two of you from now on, aren’t I?”

    “Guess so, yeah.”

    “I can just make him do all the work,” you added with a smile. “He’ll be a bit grumpy about it, but he’ll do it.”

    “Can you get him to wash all my dishes?”

    “No.”

    Roger made a disgruntled face, and you laughed.

    Okay. Maybe this could work out, after all.

[firstdegreefangirl]

Day Three: Eddie & Chris + Anything

Word Count: 1506

Original Pub Date: 22 April 2020

Read on Ao3 here

Day Three I Day Two I Day One 

“Alright, kiddo. There’s one thing on the list today. That’s it. What’re we shopping for?” Eddie looks down at Christopher as they walk into the department store.

“I get a suit!” He’s three steps ahead of Eddie, hustling out of sheer excitement. Eddie had brought it up at the beginning of the week, how it’s always a good idea for a man to have a suit stashed in the back of the closet, just in case there’s a reason for formalwear, and last time Christopher had dressed up, they’d had to leave the suitcoat at home and roll his sleeves up because everything was a little too small in every direction. He’d asked if Christopher would want to go suit shopping over the weekend, and it instantly became the only thing on the kid’s mind all week.  

He’d practically begged Eddie to take his measurements, and asked him to update them twice in the days after, “just in case I’ve grown any already!” The numbers are written on two sheets of paper, one in Christopher’s jeans pocket and the other tucked safely into Eddie’s wallet, on the off chance that the first copy gets lost.  

Of course, things get hairy as soon as they find the boys’ formalwear department.  

Because none of the suits are sized in a way that makes any sense to Eddie. He knows how to buy dress clothes: neck measurement by sleeve length for the shirt, jackets go by chest size. And he knows how big his kid is, and that he wears a medium in regular shirts.  

But he has no idea what number size that would translate to. Six, eight, 10, that’s how to measure kids’ pants, not suits. He’s got no clue what size shirt Christopher wears, not when the tags are all marked with numbers.  

“Dad? You look confused.” Christopher taps him on the arm. “Are you trying to pick a color?”

“No, buddy. I’m looking at the sizes. You have your numbers?” Christopher pulls the folded-up paper out of his pocket and hands it to Eddie. “Alright, see if you find any tags that match these. Because I don’t see them yet, but they should be here …"  

Christopher wanders off, and together they check every rack and all the shelves. He finds slacks that will fit, but there’s no jacket to match, and there’s still nothing to help him figure out a dress shirt.

He should be able to do this. He knows how to dress up; he’s not immune to the looks he gets when he wears a suit. So why can’t he help his kid have nice clothes too? He just cleared another rack when there’s an excited shout from a few shelves over.

“DAD! Look what I found!”

Finally. If Chris found the shirts, they can get this show on the road.

Eddie jogs over to find him practically bouncing with excitement.  

“Whatcha got?”  

“Look! This one has comic books on it!” Sure enough, Christopher points to a suit adorned with BAM! and POW! and ZAP! In brightly covered comic book bubbles. “Isn’t it awesome!”

“it’s … something.” Eddie has to hide a grimace. “Definitely a statement piece. But, um, you know what? If you get the right suit, you’ll be able to keep it until you outgrow it without having to worry about if it’s in style. You know how long I’ve had my suit?”

“Seven years.” It’s a guess, but Chris sounds so confident about it that Eddie can’t help but laugh as he squats down to Chris’s level.

“Good guess, bud, but not quite. I had to get a new one when I got back from the military because my old one didn’t fit anymore. But I’ve had this one since then, and it’s still a really good suit. How about we look for something more classic, and maybe we can come back for this one if there’s a specific occasion that calls for it?”

“Can we get matching suits? You can have a new one too, Dad!” In the true spirit of a 9-year-old boy, he’s only briefly disappointed before moving on to the next thing.  

“Let’s see what we find for you first, and we’ll see. Mine’s grey, so we can probably find something similar for you if we can work the sizes out.” He stands up and goes back to reading the sizes on the tags, still to no avail.

Eddie must look pretty irritated, because a saleswoman approaches him tentatively and smiles.

“Can I help you gentlemen find anything today?”

“No. We’re fine.” Eddie’s not rude, but his tone is clipped. He shouldn’t need help buying a suit for his kid. This absolutely falls under the umbrella of “Dad Duties” he should be capable of fulfilling without help.  

She smiles and walks off, and Eddie feels a tug on the bottom of his hoodie.

“Dad?” Christopher whispers loudly. “I don’t think we’re fine. You look angry.”  

“I’m not angry, kiddo. Just … trying to figure these out. I thought they’d work like grown-up suits, but –” before he can finish the sentence, Eddie sees a display that he’d missed the first time through the department. “Here, let’s go look at these.”  

It’s a few shelves of pre-packaged suit sets. Each one has just one size, and a chart on the back with measurement ranges. He sighs and looks down at his son.

“Alright, we’re back on track. Let’s see if we like any of these.” He leaves Christopher on one size of the display and circles around to look at the classic, neutral colored suits. The numbers written down in his wallet are way more detailed than they need, but it’s enough to help him figure out which size packet will work for Christopher. He’s picked up a navy blue and a black when he hears him call from around the shelves.

“I wear an eight, right Dad? I think that’s where my sizes go.”

“Sure do, mijo.”

“Can I have this one?” he comes around the end of the display, holding out a suit bundle. Eddie takes it from him and looks down.  

It’s a royal blue velvet coat, adorned with tiny white polka dots. he shirt and pants are simple enough, white and black, but there’s a bowtie tucked into the collar of the shirt that Eddie just can’t see with the coat. It’s red and blue plaid, which wouldn’t be bad as a standalone, but is a lot to pair with the polka dots.  

The suit is the polar opposite of the ones Eddie’s holding, but it’s formal enough, he thinks. Besides, the kid is 9; it’s not like anyone is expecting him to show up anywhere in black-tie. And he’s so excited, bouncing back and forth while he waits for Eddie’s verdict.  

"Pleeeeeeeeeease?”

“Yeah, this’ll work.” He lets Christopher cheer, then continues. “It’s a cool color. Nothing like this hanging in my closet.”

“Yeah, but you said we’d maybe get matching ones! We can go find one for you!”

Before Eddie can come up with an excuse, Christopher’s gone, click-clacking across the store for menswear.

“Chris, wait up!” He jogs after him, trying to find a reason he can’t have a blue velvet polka-dot suit. Nothing comes to mind other than price (and that he really, really doesn’t want one, but he doesn’t want to burst the kid’s bubble) and he doesn’t want Chris to think they’re in any sort of financial trouble.  

They’re not, but even if they were, that’s not for his kid to worry about.  

One thing works out in his favor though, someone is looking out for him, because there are no blue velvet blazers even close to Eddie’s size. Christopher is disappointed for a moment, but his smile brightens when he sees the spinning rack of neckties.

“What about matching neckties? I can have two neckties for one suit, right dad?”  

“Neckties we can do. See something that catches your eye?” Eddie spins the top tier of the display slowly, pointing out a grey pinstripe he thinks would match Chris’s new suit, then a timeless solid red. “This one would probably go with whatever suit you have next, too.”

“This one!” Christopher grabs pulls two identical ties loose from the rack and hands one to Eddie. “I like this one!”

Eddie runs his hand down the silver silk, adorned with tiny yellow flowers and green swirls.  

“You sure? You know, the suit you picked out is blue.”

“Yeah, and the flowers are yellow, and when you put those together, you get green. Like the squiggles!”  

The argument makes sense, Eddie has to admit. And he also has to admit that the next time he wears his suit, when the 118 puts in an appearance at the retiring fire chief’s farewell celebration, he reaches for his new necktie first.  

And when Bobby tells him that it looks nice, he’s proud to have a response at the ready.

“Thanks. Chris picked it out. He’s got a matching one at home.”

[probableelf]

Detroit recap 3/8/20

Ok, I promised a couple people a concert review for last night so here goes. Set list, pictures, a couple of videos, and whatever my sleep-deprived brain can remember under the cut.

We (me and @clarwyn​ and our cousin) got there about an hour ahead of doors, and there were only a couple people outside, which was surprising until we got to the front door and found that they were actually lining people up inside, which was nice! Turned out there was about one full row of people in front of us and we ended up in the second row, dead center. Really, really cool spot—I think closer would have just been harder to see the whole stage.

They are still using the Gypsy intro, which has good energy to it to walk (or run, if you’re Marty) out to. The first song was Dead, which kind of tickles me for some reason. Like ‘Here’s an introduction of what we’re *really* about, folks.’ Then we got the self-titled track, and warmed up our dance moves with Twisting (I can still twist.) We Want a Rock was the first song that hit me hard as a ‘everybody is singing this and I’m singing it and they’re watching me sing it and it’s both weird and good’ moment. I get a lot of those in the second row, apparently.

They took a talking break and, as usual, were very, very funny. I’m going to get these out of order but I think this was where Flans asked Linnell if he’d been out and done anything that day, and Linnell said he’d basically just napped because it had been a long drive from Chicago. He was happy that he had coffee, which he’d made with a paper towel instead of a filter but it was not bad.  Flans said he’d been out sleeping in public places, and then stressed that he was not a heroin addict. Linnell agreed that they were not heroin addicts but pointed out that “only heroin addicts have to say that. Thank you for coming to our intervention.”

More Flood tracks next, I thought they followed the feel of the album really closely on Minimum Wage (kind of amazing for a sample-based track). Hearing Aid got some excellent Kaoss Pad action as I recall. All very cool. Particle Man got the Main Squeeze pulled out, of course, and they are using the Sun Ra breakdown (“Triangle Man take off for the planet... Venus!”) and making a proper deal about it; Curt gets to stretch out a little on that one and it’s fun.

Here’s the video I took for StillooB, complete with intro banter: pardon my inability to hold still for this song (I was kind of trying to sing quietly along, in the hopes that there would be a contingent of us in the front who know at least some of the words, because I think that could be as funny for them as the song is to us; luckily my singing isn’t audible on the video!)

Letterbox was next and that I sang as gustily as I could, even though those are very hard lyrics to keep up with. Somewhere around then I experienced the Linnell Stare (TM) complete with grin aimed at my section of the audience and my second-row concert-going experience was fully complete. Gaaaaah.

EDIT 2: I’m not sure anymore which song they introduced this way, but judging from the setlist is was probably Lucky Ball and Chain; they told us they hardly ever did fadeouts on their albums, and in fact originally could have practically defined themselves as “the band that doesn’t do fadeouts”; however this song would have one.  Flans then told us he had heard a supercut of the endings of AC/DC songs, who also evidently didn’t do fadeouts; he then proceeded to show us on guitar how all the songs ended: *bam. Bam, bam. BAM.*  I looked this up and it sounds exactly how he played it:

https://dangerousminds.net/comments/how_should_we_end_this_hilarious_supercut_of_ac_dc_song_endings

After playing Lucky Ball and Chain, Flans admitted that he couldn’t remember what was next in the set, and while he went over to the music stand on stage right to check, Linnell said it started with a buzzer sound, and also that it was off of Flood (which was obvious, as they were playing a Flood-only set). Clarwyn and I had different but related experiences here, which I shall relate: I heard somebody quietly call out “Hot Cha”, and I was feeling bold enough so I shouted it quite a bit louder. Unbeknownst to me, she had also shouted something, which she told me after was “That narrows it down!” Flans, having checked his set list, returned to the front of the stage and pointed in our direction, saying something like “Oh, hey, talkative girl! I see they let you go out!” I am pretty sure I turned beet-red while frantically looking around me, absolutely sure he meant me (and hoping he didn’t, like, somehow recognize me as the social-media-happy over-submitter-to-their-tumblr I am!) She says she thought he meant her, though. After a couple seconds Flans apologized with a “don’t worry, that was a joke!” and they proceeded to play Hot Cha. It took me the length of that song to stop feeling totally embarrassed, but I managed to get over it by dancing and singing along to everything.

They finished out Flood (except Istanbul), and Birdhouse followed by Road Movie was a good ending, with the added middle verse in Road Movie that nobody seems to know yet (I couldn’t remember it even though I’ve heard it), and then the Flood set was over.  Flans informed us they were going to take a 15 minute break for the next 45 minutes (it was actually about 20).

Set two started as a quiet storm trio set, starting with Music Jail (very nice on acoustic guitar and accordion, plus Marty on the electronic kit). Apparently Flans has been writing “2018” on the set lists to mean 2082, which makes me laugh. (Also the song makes me laugh!) I think this was the one where Marty drummed on Flans’ guitar in a number of key measures with his mallets, and Flans said it was the first time they’d done that live, and it absolutely killed me, especially when Flans accidentally moved to far away and Marty had to really reach. Flans said people might not want to do that with their expensive guitars, and Linnell replied they might not want to do it with their expensive mallets.

EDIT: They introduced 2082 (I think it was this one) with a little segue about how they had tested the song in front of test audiences and found out that people like hyper-violent songs.  They also played Wicked Little Critta in this set and Linnell went back to the Kaoss Pad and keyboard for that, of course. He’s either getting pretty amazingly good at pitch on the Kaoss, or else he’s found a way to modulate the pitch through the keyboard at the same time, vocoder-style (I’m pretty sure I saw him doing the latter).

The crew struck the stage after the quiet storm to the tune of the Underwater Woman music video, which always kinda chokes me up. Ugh, those lyrics. And that bass line.

Further continuing my tendency to be a little choked up in the second set, they came back and played Wearing a Raincoat (!) next which I have never heard live before and which I have connected to on a personal level since I first heard it, for reasons. Oh man.

After that, more new and not-quite-new high energy songs followed and I danced my little feet off to Communists and waved my arms to increasing speed to Damn Good Times and sang my heart out to New York City even though I have never been there.

Curt Ramm played as good an Istanbul intro as I have heard before and we all tried very hard to scream at the right spots. I noticed he wiggles his eyebrows really hard when he’s trying to get us to do that. The Theme from Flood ended the set, which they informed us they had just learned was the optimal length for washing your hands. Flans thanked us for being a good audience, telling us that audiences that weren’t as fun were, in fact, less fun.

EDIT: No issues with the new Arturia MIDI controller, that I saw. Apparently the kinks have been worked out!  Linnell did brag about his new keyboard stand, which he said he got because people had been asking him how long he was going to keep using the old keyboard stand, so he got a new one that looks just like the old one (same color blue, at least, and still looks like a desk!)  He joked that he was storing his sandwiches in it.

They left the stage and we all set about clapping very hard to request an encore. After the usual length of time they came back, and we must have been clapping particularly hard at that point because Flans stopped us and informed us that the whole wait offstage during clapping was a bit of theater that they had instituted long ago so they would not look too nervous by running offstage and then right back on stage, admitting that of course they were nervous so it was all just theater anyway. “But that’s the nature of theater.” He also said something like “we’re asking you to give us something that isn’t actually good for us” which was a very humanizing take on the nature of applause and the performance/audience relationship, I thought.

I approximately died and went to Heaven when they brought out Fingertips for encore #1, and I managed to pull myself together in time to capture it on slightly less mobile video:

EDIT 3: I get no end of amusement watching the security guard’s face in that video, he does NOT look like he understands what he is listening to at all.

This was followed by Doctor Worm which is so. Good. Live.

They went offstage again, we clapped them back on, and Linnell asked “was that the full sixty seconds?” Then they played End of the Tour, which I got very choked up in, under what felt like some particularly intense Linnell-Staring, and which I was sure was the end of the show.

It wasn’t! They followed it with The Guitar, which is my absolute favorite thing to see live, period. Only one very tiny keyboard-playing hop from Linnell, like he tried it and decided it was rather too energetic a move at that time of night, but still fantastic. I did not take the same approach and dug for my reserves of bouncing energy for that song, because it was totally worth it.

Clarwyn got a set list from Marty, we grabbed a late fast food supper at McDonalds, got a bit turned around by our GPS and then drove our very long drive home.

Here is Clarwyn’s set list:

[ckret2]

would you mind explaining "Careless whisper" "I will always love you" and "Friend please"? no pressure though!

Oh god you chose two of the meme-iest songs! Both in one post! I can’t believe it!

Okay.

This took me forever to write because I wrote half of it and then got distracted for weeks and didn’t get back to it until I got a fresh ask today with some more songs and I was like, crap, I should finish this one.

So the first three paragraphs in this post still apply here, I’m not gonna copy paste them, go read those paragraphs if you haven’t yet. tl;dr i’m answering questions about why i included songs on my radiosnake spotify playlist because i like rambling for thousands of words at a time, also the playlist is based on a fic i wrote.

Feel free to keep sending me questions about more songs on the playlist. Explanations under the read more, assuming the read more works, which I make no guarantee of because this is tumblr.

Careless Whisper (Lyrics)

… except, the jazzy version.

So lemme tell you a story about how “Careless Whisper” came up and then I’ll explain why it actually belongs on the playlist.

The only way I can outline a story is by sitting down with another person and rambling the plotline at them, copy pasting it into another document, and bam that’s an outline.

Right now, in the disjointed process of outlining a sequel to Cold Day In Hell, I’m sort of chunking random ideas at a couple friends to see what sticks. One idea is that, when Alastor is drunk, he’s 90% worse at pretending he totally doesn’t care about Sir Pentious at all. If they’re ever drunk at the same social event, he will subtly (not subtly at all) follow him around all night like a puppy and hang on to his every word, automatically playing this sort of nonsense in the background.

One of my friends announced sadness that it didn’t start off with “Careless Whisper,” so I checked Postmodern Jukebox (the fastest/easiest/most common way to translate a modern song into Alastor Aesthetic) to see if they had made a jazz cover (they had), and I reassured my friend that the PMH cover definitely played every second song while drunk!Alastor was mooning over (and/or looming over) Sir Pentious.

And then I went oh goddammit the lyrics actually fit, dammit, now I’ve gotta put it on the playlist.

So I put it on the playlist.

Here’s the great thing about song lyrics. Even if everyone knows that the lyrics mean one thing, language is inherently ambiguous and you can totally just decide to read the lyrics a slightly different way if you really really want to and the exact wording doesn’t make it impossible. Everyone KNOWS that “Careless Whisper” is about cheating, but it never SAYS it’s about cheating (like, it says “cheat a friend,” but like the singer could’ve cheated their friend at cards? it doesn’t say), so you can just decide that it’s about any other kind of betrayal in a relationship! Like, say, blowing up your ally’s steampunk airship fleet. The song never says it ISN’T about a steampunk airship fleet.

So let’s just establish right now that this song is no longer about cheating. That’s out the window.

In the original song, “dancing” is probably intended as a metaphor for having sex. In THIS context, it is literally dancing. The emotional core of CDIH, the moment around which the rest of the story rotates, is the night that Alastor and Sir Pentious dance together. And although Alastor no doubt dances plenty of times after leaving Sir Pent, he’s certainly never going to dance like that again—like he’s with a lover, like he wants to be touching his dance partner, rather than either alone or while distastefully putting up with physical contact with someone who doesn’t matter to him.

The interpretation of the line “careless whispers of a good friend” that I think is probably Most Common is that a friend of the singer’s lover warned the lover that the singer is cheating on them, and the singer thinks that the fact that the lover now knows is worse than not knowing at all, because now that the lover knows they can never go back to normal, hence why the friend was being careless. Aside from any questions of, like, whether or not that’s a sound opinion at all—I’ve always interpreted that line differently. Since the singer refers to their lover as a “friend” (“should have known better than to cheat a friend”), I’ve always assumed that the singer would refer to themself as their lover’s friend, and so the “careless whispers of a good friend” were the whispers that the singer themself made that started whatever affair it is they had.

And so that assumption—that the “good friend” that said something they shouldn’t have is the singer—is the interpretation I’m carrying into the song’s inclusion in the playlist. In this case, it’s Alastor’s decision to lie to Sir Pent about how he feels about him (claiming that he never cared & that he was just screwing around with his emotions) before running off that are the “careless whispers” because, although not exactly whispery, they do have the same effect as in the song: ever since he said them, there’s been an unmendable rift between Alastor and Sir Pent (which was, like, his objective, but he’s still not happy about it)—and, more than that, it was very careless. Alastor had intended for his actions to just push Sir Pent away, not to effectively ruin Sir Pent’s ambitions to rule hell completely. But, that’s what happened. Because he didn’t think anything through. He just said and did the very first things he could think of to push Sir Pent away. Extremely careless.

And, of course, the specific version that got included was chosen because it sounds jazzy. Yay for PMJ, making all sorts of songs Alastor-ready.

I Will Always Love You (Lyrics)

… except, the super dark version.

So I figured out at some point that the easiest way I was gonna find Alastor music was through jazz-style covers of songs a la Postmodern Jukebox, 1) because PMJ has been actually mentioned as among the limited varieties of modern music that Alastor would listen to by virtue of the fact that they do covers that sound like what he used to listen to, and 2) because Puff here isn’t actually a fan of jazz and it’s a lot easier for me to slowly wade into the water via jazzy covers of songs I already know than it is for me to fling myself into the deep end like “appreciate Jelly Roll Morton! Appreciate Jelly Roll Morton NOW!!!”

(I am slowly and laboriously training myself to be a fan of jazz, because Alastor is a RADIO HOST from NEW ORLEANS in the ROARING TWENTIES AND A LITTLE BIT OF THE THIRTIES, i will NOT be writing him while in complete ignorance of a subject that probably occupied a huge portion of his life.)

So due to the fact that I was looking for PMJ-esque genre-switching covers of songs, I drifted over to other genre-switching song cover acts like Chase Holfelder to go through the songs and go “hm wonder of any of these work." This song is an exception to the genres I’m looking for for Alastor, but it still makes the list because like, the vibe is just right.

Have y'all ever actually listened to/read the lyrics to "I Will Always Love You” before? Not just the AAAND IIIIIIIII-IIII-IIIIIII WILL ALWAAAYS LOVE YOOOOO-OO-OOOU bit but the actual lyrics. They’re sad. The lyrics are “I deeply love you but if I stayed with you I would only hold you back so i’m going to leave you because it’s for the best but i’m super sad about it and i always will be.”

Now, that doesn’t 100% line up with Alastor’s situation. Because, like, obviously, he was doing the exact opposite of holding Sir Pent back when they were together, and fearing holding Sir Pent back was not the reason he left.

But it is among the reasons he avoids the hell out of him now. The primary reasons, of course, are still “being in love is scary and i do not want to do that so maybe if i avoid him i can continue pretending that i am not in love?” and “lmao he justifiably hates me now so why try"—but #3 on his list is the recognition that, since they broke up, Alastor’s actions have caused a constant cascade of events that have held Sir Pent back ever since. (And Alastor also suspects that there might actually be some kind of legitimate curse or fate or something going on here—that part of Alastor’s role in hell is playing the part of Sir Pent’s personal hellish divine punishment.) So he didn’t leave because he’s sabotaging Sir Pent’s ambitions; but he sabotaged Sir Pent’s ambitions because he left.

And therefore, as a consequence, he should stay away from Sir Pent now. He shouldn’t beg forgiveness and a second chance—because he doesn’t deserve them, and because he might make it worse.

This particular cover of the song really kicks the anguish up into high gear. The most common Whitney Houston version is like, okay she’s brokenhearted, but also somehow somewhat empowered by the brokenheartedness—like even though she’s leaving sad and bitter, in her heart she knows that the decision she’s making is for the best for her beloved, and she can draw strength from that. There is no drawing strength from the decision in the Chase Holfelder version—just using it up. It’s like he’s burning through all of his reserves of strength to push his loved one away. When Whitney hits the big note, she’s pulling power into herself to belt that out. When Chase hits the big note, he’s pouring out every last bit of power left inside his body. You can imagine Whitney walking away from this song with her head held high and her back straight but Chase is just gonna collapse to his knees with his shoulders hunched and head bowed—completely empty, a husk. That’s the vibe I want with Alastor—that every single day of his self-imposed exile he’s losing a little piece of himself, hollowing himself out. He can’t draw strength from it.

Typically, when I’m picking songs for this playlist, I don’t pay much attention to the gender of the singer (my only main priority on this playlist is that by the time it’s done I want the genders of the singers to be roughly balanced on both Sir Pent’s part and Alastor’s part), but in this case I think the fact that the singer is male contributes to it working for Alastor the way another version with a female singer wouldn’t. Not entirely sure why—maybe because, even though the voice doesn’t sound anything like his, it’s easier to actively imagine Alastor singing the song when it’s got a male voice? Maybe because, thanks to Sexism In Society, a woman saying "I’m leaving you because I’d get in the way of your dreams” more easily comes across as “Oh… I am simply not good enough for you… I’d hold you back…” while a man saying “I’m leaving you because I’d get in the way of your dreams” more easily comes across as “I wouldn’t hold you back, I’d push you down. I’m dangerous for you.” And the latter fits Alastor better.

(But hey, if any of you know of any versions of “I Will Always Love You” with a female singer that makes her sound dangerous as hell, feel free to recommend them to me. Not because I’m looking to replace the version I’ve already got but just because I’d really like to hear it.)

Currently, it’s listed as the last song on the Alastor portion of the playlist. I recently reorganized it so that the Sir Pent portions and Alastor portions each flow from the shallowest/most surface emotions down to the deeper/truer/more hidden emotions, and even before I did that reorganization, “I Will Always Love You” has been the closing song on Alastor’s side since it was added to the playlist. That feels like the right note to leave it on: after everything else has been said, once every other layer and lie has been stripped away, the deepest and truest and last thing Alastor would have to say to Sir Pent is “I hope life treats you kind and I hope you have all you’ve dreamed of” and an anguished screaming declaration of love.

Friend Please https://genius.com/Twenty-one-pilots-friend-please-lyrics

So remember when I said that language is inherently ambiguous and if you want you can totally just choose to read words differently if the wording doesn’t actually prevent that interpretation? This song is clearly about suicide. I have decided for the purposes of this playlist it is not about suicide anymore! It’s still about depression but not about suicide! When the singer was like “Please don’t take your life away from me” what he meant is “Please don’t take your life, and also, I am emphasizing that if you do so you are removing yourself from my life to try to show you how much you mean to me,” but how I have decided to interpret it for this playlist is “literally do not remove your life from my life, as in, like, don’t run away and stop talking to me.”

So. As I mentioned in my last song meta post, there’s sort of two—not genres, but like, musical aesthetics that I’m drawing from for Sir Pent: Victorian-ish/steampunk-ish sounds, and emo stuff because Vivz said that’s what he actually listens to. Twenty One Pilots fits the criteria for emo for me—idk and idc if other people consider them emo, they toured with Fall Out Boy and Panic! At The Disco, they count as far as I’m concerned—so they’re actually among the bands I’ve been intending to specifically look at for potential Sir Pent Songs.

For the most part, they’re, like, too good at the sad millennial vibe. But that song works.

“Friend, Please” comes low on Sir Pent’s portion because it’s deep in the more genuine emotions—I’ve actually considered putting it last and may still do so, it would make a nice counterpoint to “I Will Always Love You"—actually I’m gonna go do that, gonna go shuffle the playlist, there, good—and it’s also something that he couldn’t/wouldn’t say until after he knows about Alastor’s deep thoughts. Reinterpreted so that it’s not about suicide, it becomes about a friend who’s still depressed, but the focus of the song becomes about the friend’s self-isolation—a self-isolation that’s fueled by denial and self-delusion, the friend convincing themself that they’re alone, always will be, and can’t/won’t have anyone else in their life again that they can depend upon.

Which, although he doesn’t necessarily seem to be depressed, is certainly the vibe Alastor gives off in the show—that despite his overly-friendly overly-familiar attitude, he probably keeps everyone else at a great emotional distance. In canon he might be okay with that. In fic, he’s doing that at the expense of pushing away a person he loves very much—and then pushing away anyone that could help him cope with that loss. Leaving him very alone and perpetually disguising himself as fine with that. Maybe, when he can go years without having to see Sir Pent, he can be fine with that.

But I have Big Plans for that sequel and you know item #1 on the list is "stick Alastor and Sir Pent in a position where they’ll have to cross paths all the time so that it’s like threading a giant needle with barbed wire, stabbing the needle into Alastor’s heart, and slowly dragging the barbed wire straight through.”

And after that? Living like a ghost, claiming he’s fine when he’s been completely emotionally drained, is gonna be a pretty accurate description of his mental state.

Right now, Sir Pent is in no way close enough to Alastor to know that—and in no way sympathetic enough toward him to care even if he did know. He still hates Alastor for completely ruining his life. But there’s still that part of him that used to care about Alastor and still could come to care about him again. And if that part gets revived, and if he gets close enough to Alastor to see how miserable he’s made himself by trying to push everyone away and denying that he’s pushed his own mental state into as bad a state as it’s currently in, his reaction would be “you absolute dumbass” followed by trying to shout some sense into Alastor by pointing out that every one of his problems is caused not by external factors, but by his own damn screwed-up perception of the world. Like, every one of his problems he made himself, and he can unmake them. He’s just got to uncover his eyes first.

It’s easy for fandom to just, like, characterize Sir Pent as an all-around dumbass—strategically, socially, emotionally, etc. Until and unless we see otherwise—and see it so firmly that even I can’t find ways to headcanon around it, and believe you me, I can headcanon my way around a lot of things—I choose to believe that the only areas he’s definitely a dumbass in are “understanding modern slang” and “remembering NOT to charge into battle without considering the odds the second he sees somebody he hates.” This means that I like to believe he also has a reasonable level of emotional intelligence, and a healthy level of compassion that he can deploy, when he so chooses, on someone he considers worthy of that compassion. He’s evil, yes, but self-professed evil, which means self-aware evil; which means that even though there’s gotta be something fucked up with his worldview for him to choose to be evil, it is a choice he’s making, not something he’s doing specifically because he believes it’s right/necessary. And he can turn it off when he decides he’s with someone that deserves it.

Now, is Alastor on that list? Not currently, hell no. But there’s potential for him to make it on the list—that potential for Sir Pent to care about him again, to want to see him throw off the things that he’s using to hold himself back, to want to see him become better and happier, to want him back in Sir Pent’s life—buried somewhere deep beneath Sir Pent’s burned emotions and decades of resentment.

[a-walkingoxymoron]

Mistletoe

Word count: 3.8k

Pairing: Jackson X Reader

Genre: Fluff

A/N: This is late, I know. I also didn’t expect it to go on this long, I swear - but hey, it’s still December so. I saw the prompt when I happened upon a prompt list by @/drink-it-write-it and happened to think of this. I’d like to apologize in advance as the story’s all over the place, I think. Anyway, enjoy!

The prompt is “Alright, mister. I know you’re the one who keeps hanging mistletoe everywhere”

It was Christmas Eve and, as usual, Bambam was hosting a party to celebrate the occasion. After all any occasion he gets a whiff of is an excuse to party to him. Hell, if he puts his mind to it, you were pretty sure that he could host a celebration for everything that he can think of. That's what happens if you mix an extrovert, raw adoration of anything alcoholic, and a young person in college who had money to burn into one individual - you'd get Bambam. And while he does sound like a perfect recipe to be someone who's conceited and a brat, Bambam was actually not like that at all. He was naive in some practices of the middle class but nothing too major.

Another thing to note is Bambam and you were very close to the point that you couldn't deny your presence in his party completely lest you want to be at the receiving end of his sulking and accusations of not loving him anymore, that you were ready to end the friendship you two had worked hard together to form. You learned soon enough that it was far better to attend than to deal with that kind of guilt trip. You won't even begin how he was hungover while doing all that - how he forgets everything he does when drinking and shitfaced but god forbid he forgets if you were there or not.

That's why you were here at this very moment, being nothing short of a wallflower, observing the other goers. Bambam's other friends that you got to know over the years from hanging around him were polite enough to strike conversation when they spot you, even offering to get you a drink when they see your cup almost empty. Jinyoung and Mark, bless their souls, even took the time to drive away people who tried to hit on you once you look visibly uncomfortable - they were also the least troublesome.

Besides the fact that Bambam practically mandates you to attend, you were, as you dub yourself, a one man casualty control unit. Instead of socializing heavily, you spend most of your time going around, especially once everyone had more than a couple of drinks, seeing if there was trouble brewing somewhere and to prevent it before it gets worse.

It was a tiring task. Cleaning major spills in order so no one would slip, stopping Bambam from doing something highly idiotic and dangerous every five to ten minutes; saving Youngjae from being the center of a Bambam-Yugyeom tandem prank that would result in something undoubtedly painful; making sure Yugyeom doesn't slip and break his spine while dancing on top of whatever his long legs can climb then making sure his feet were on even ground before you leave him to check on others; coming to a poor, clueless party go-er's aid once Jackson prey's on them to be the one he mercilessly shoves into the pool unceremoniously; even Jaebeom didn't made your life easier when the alcohol gets hold of his temper and begins to aggressively pick fights with people who disagree with any of his opinion including what potato chips he thinks is the best. 

Right now, however, Jackson was at the top of your naughty list and the party has barely even started. Before the event began, there was a count of one mistletoe inside the whole house. You know this as you were the one who suggested where to put it up when you were helping Bambam set up, relenting to his whines in regards of how a Christmas Eve party isn't a Christmas Eve party without a mistletoe. And you made sure to ingrain the location of that mistletoe - singular - in your mind to avoid it as much as possible.

Now, two hours into the party and there were, at the very least, seven fucking mistletoe around the whole house excluding the five you already gotten rid off moments ago. As expected, no one but you was on the hunt for the mistletoe hanging culprit. You know it wasn't Bambam, that much you were sure of despite the fact that he told you to let it go.

How could you, though? It was hard enough to avoid being underneath one mistletoe with someone in a full house, harrowing when faced with several. Every direction you face, you somehow spot another victim of the mistletoe that materialize from who knows where and they ended up either having a full blown make out, a chaste kiss or being painfully awkward with each other.

Yet you just couldn't figure out who was the asshole who kept repeatedly hanging the dreaded plant. It was only when Mark spotted you with another 3 in your hands with a burnt out expression that no one should ever bear in a party as fun as Bamabam threw. His eyes softened, lips pulling into a pitiful smile as he approached you apprehensively in case a mistletoe was waiting to be discovered overhead. Once close enough, he nudged you gently before mouthing the word 'Jackson' without so much of an explanation.

But you didn't need an explanation. It all made sense. You haven't seen him, hadn't heard his booming laughter - you didn't even spot him by the pool where he usually stays to pick on an unsuspecting fool. Not even a shriek of excitement about a pair falling victim to the mistletoe tradition. You felt stupid. How could you not realize it by yourself.

Thanking Mark, you set off to hunt the bastard. You immediate went upstairs, knowing that the second floor was off limits to everyone that wasn't you, Bambam, Jaebeom, Mark, Jinyoung, Youngjae, Yugyeom and fucking Jackson.

True enough, you saw the source of your distress in the form of Jackson squatting down on another dozen batch of mistletoe - where did he eve get all of that - with his back behind you. He was inside Bambam's spare room where he kept clutter of unused objects he refused to throw away which is why you didn't see him two hours ago despite repeatedly going up and down the stairs.

"Alright mister. I know you're the one who keeps hanging mistletoe everywhere." You said aloud as a way to announce your presence. He turned around, wide eyed at first before standing up straight to his full height and flashing you his million dollar smile.

Ah, Jackson. Bambam's friend from high school. You didn't notice him back then unless you were the center of his jokes or pranks but he did age like fine wine. Jackson who had the face and body of a God yet the mind of a 12 year old.

"Oops," He chuckled nervously.

"Oops is right. What do you think you keep doing? Why do you keep hanging those?!" You gestured to his ammo of plants to hang, glaring at them with distaste having dealt with one too many of them already. It was a miracle you haven't fell victim to it yet.

"For holiday spirit?"

"Try again."

He walked over to you, laughing as he swung an arm to rest around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him until he was basically squeezing you to his side while his free hand gestured to the air slowly as if making you see the bigger picture of whatever weird scheme he came up with. 

"Imagine being in a party then you get stuck with someone under the mistletoe. You two kiss. Fireworks fly, they feel the spark and BAM you're in love!" Jackson pulled away after the ridiculous speech he dared call an explanation before grinning at you like a puppy.

"A Christmas Miracle!" He finished excitedly, matching it with loud hand movement. "Don't you want to be a part of the reason why that miracle happened?!"

You stared at him incredulously, taking a step closer and sniffing near his mouth. Not drunk - apparently he was too busy with his plan to even drink. "Are you high? Just how many Hallmark movies did you even watch to concoct something like this?"

But this is Jackson. You have to face the fact that it would only take one movie like that to make him elicit this kind of response. This was one of the times you thanked his personality, not that it wasn't loveable. It is. He was thoughtful and loyal to those he cared about but he was childish - too childish. If only he had an ounce of maturity in his bones then you were sure to catch feelings with a face like that. 

For a moment you remembered when you first saw Jackson in college. It was only months since you last saw him then but he apparently went to a crash course with puberty and came back looking manly, all trace of his boyish features gone. He had been working out too, being more fit since the last time. And then he opened his mouth only to reveal he was still the same old high school Jackson you had a puppy crush on in a mature body. And a puppy crush was all it would be. Like you, Jackson is one of Bambam's best friends and having any sort of feelings for him - or any one of them - would be a mess that was just waiting to blow.

You snapped from your thoughts at the sound of Jackson whining your name in an attempt to get your attention.

"Can I please hang more? Please, please, please." He stopped under the scrutiny of your weary gaze. He knew that look. That was the look of yours when you were ready to offer a compromise that should satisfy you both. A trick that was essential for you to learn from dealing with Bambam so much.

"You will not be hanging anymore mistletoe."

"But -"

"Shush! I'm not done speaking yet." Jackson shut his mouth immediately. How you were like this with them but required the aid of Jinyoung and Mark when chasing away unwanted advances was always a mystery to him.

"Again. No more mistletoe. But there are four more downstairs and I will not take anymore of them down for the sake of your Christmas Miracle." His face brightened, obviously pleased with the proposition. He let out that little giddy squeal he did whenever he was excited and pulled you to his chest to wrap his arms around you in a grateful hug.

When he pulled you away in arms length, you looked up only for you breath to hitch when your eyes met his. You weren't sure if it was because of the distance, or lack thereof, between you two but his eyes that you always did recognize as pretty were, in fact, beautiful and breathtaking if you let it blindside you - the twinkle of excitement only made it more entrancing as well.

You will yourself to look away and let out a laugh that hopefully doesn't sound so forced than it felt. "Alright, alright. Now let's go down, see how your genius plan unfolds and get you some alcohol in your system."

Pulling away completely from his grasp, you gestured to the party still on going downstairs which sounded much wilder than you previously remember when you were still on a haunt for Jackson. God, you can just imagine what kind of mess you need to look out for.

Still, you managed to flash an encouraging grin to Jackson. "You're too sober for a party that's hosted by Bambam anyway."

______

It was such a basic mistake. 

There you were, underneath a fucking mistletoe, finally falling victim to its grasps. To rub salt to the rather fresh wound, it was the very one that you and Bambam hanged - by the open doorway that separates the kitchen from the lounge. 

You should have known better.

Known better not to walk underneath it with the troublemakers around. Known better to even think for one moment you would leave unscathed from pranks. What's worse was that you can't even blame Jackson as this wasn't even one that he hung.

You looked at your fellow victim that was equally, if not more, annoyed as you. Jinyoung glowered at Yugyeom's direction who was hiding behind Jaebeom while chortling his lungs out. He had shoved Jinyoung in your direction when you were crossing underneath the mistletoe. 

Jinyoung of all people. Yugyeom was either brave or stupid to do so. Either way, it was evident that he was dead to Jinyoung thanks to his little stunt.

"Come here you shit -" Jinyoung almost lunged at Yugyeom if not for Mark that stopped him with a shit eating grin before tutting in a disapproving manner,  "No exceptions, Jinyoung."

Mark was one of the least troublemakers but that doesn't mean he doesn't join in them. Curse him, however, to choose this moment to jump in.

There were cat calls and hoots of encouragement from people witnessing around, chanting 'kiss' repeatedly like it was a mantra.

Jackson, who was now actively participating in the festivities as compared to earlier, rushed to see who the (un)lucky pair this time, only to deflate when he sees you. There was suddenly a sensation in his stomach. It always made itself felt when he saw you but this time it was unpleasant. 

A part of him didn't want to watch the inevitable scene unfold yet he couldn't take his eyes away from you two with bated breath. 

"Come on, Jinyoung. You know the rules." It was Jaebeom who was tossing tinder into the fire this time, an amused smirk on his lips. You could hear the man beside you hissing in annoyance while you were still trying to register what rule Jaebeom was pertaining to.

Ah. A kiss needs to last 7 seconds at the very least. 

Defeated, Jinyoung could only turn to you with an apologetic look in his eyes. You were suddenly all too aware how he was so much taller than you as he hovered over you only to lean down and press his lips on yours gently while both of his hands found its way to either side of your waist to still you.

You let him and, acting on pure instinct, your hands went to the hem of his sweater to tug on it yet you didn't find yourself returning the kiss.

His lips was soft against yours but that was it, there was no malicious feelings behind them. The two of you held your stance until the count was over before pulling away. 

"Was I really such a bad kisser that you didn't even attempt to return it?" He teased, chuckling. You sputtered, his words making you feel more flustered than the kiss did.

"No hard feelings?" Jinyoung asked once he failed to elicit a response from you. He was scared that he offended you. He hoped not, he did like you after all being the only sane one in his group of friends and the only one who he hasn't thought about murdering yet. You nodded as words failed you - what can you even say? But it seemed you needn't say anything as Jinyoung appeared to be satisfied with just that, patting your head affectionately before he left.

_______

There was a little over ten minutes left before Christmas. Which also means that it has been an hour since Jackson retreated upstairs once more but, unlike earlier, his mind was full with the thoughts of you.

Admittedly, he always had a crush on you. He finds you cute. How your eyes brightened when your excited, how your cheeks puff in annoyance like a chipmunk, how adorable you looked when your face was painted with the hues of red when embarrassed, and the next thing he knew, he was smitten with you.

He kept those kind of feelings buried, however. Because, much like you, he didn't want to complicate things. He enjoyed having you around him and the guys, he knows the other felt the same, too. And to be the one who possibly fuck that up, well, he'd rather not risk it. Bambam would never forgive him, as well.

Watching Jinyoung kiss you, despite it being an obligatory gesture to satiate a culture - a culture that he supported wholeheartedly and fixated on the whole night - made him realize how deep his feelings for you truly went.

He just wanted to pry you out of Jinyoung's arms and take you in his instead. But he couldn't - shouldn't. So instead of watching, he opted to go upstairs to sulk. The only consolation to his sullen is the mere fact that you didn't return the kiss.

Would you return it if it was him?

Jackson shook his head in a futile attempt to clear it. Those kind of intrusive thoughts is exactly the reason why he shouldn't be anywhere near you. Who knows what he could do? He wasn't really known for impulse control.

Five minutes before Christmas left.

Everyone downstairs was either counting down or passed out somewhere due to intoxication. You were counting, too, in a way. And you were missing one. The boys were complete by the kitchen except for Jackson. And, oblivious to his dilemma, you decided to look for him so all 8 of you would be together when the clock strikes 12.

Before you can even think about where he could be, your feet lead you upstairs and back to where you had found him earlier. Lo and behold, Jackson was there, seemingly lost in thought as he stared out the window from across the room, his fingers playing with a mistletoe he held absentmindedly. Quietly, you entered the room, calling out his name after closing the door behind you.

"Jackson?"

He turned to face you, blinking owlishly as if trying to process your presence, then a smile graced his lips. Not the bright smile that you have come to adore, not the boyish smile he flashed at everyone, no, this smile was different. There was a pensive sadness behind it that you rarely saw in the human sunshine you knew as Jackson. A smile that made your blood run cold and worry pump to your veins as your brows furrowed in concern.

"Hey," You tried again, your voice soft this time, afraid that anything louder would break him. "It's almost Christmas. We're waiting for you downstairs."

He offered a smile once more and there it was again ; a smile that offered no mirth. It was like a whole other personality possessed Jackson's body altogether. You pressed your lips into a thin line in thought. Never have you expected to become this unnerved just from his silence alone. 

"Are you okay, Jackson?" 

He wasn't. He wanted to say he wasn't.

Why did you have to go and search for him? Why now when his thoughts were a ball of mess he can't seem to untangle - doesn't even know where to start untangling - and feelings raw. There couldn't have been a worse time for you to barge in him tonight. Yet here you were, eyes large with curiosity and concern drawing him in. Concern for him of all people. Concern that he wanted to kiss away.

Jackson was not an expert in impulse control and Jackson could only take so much for a day. He thought the obligatory kiss you received from Jinyoung was the last straw. No, the last straw was you coming to him when he had tried hard to put distance between the two of you for the remainder of the night. Originally, the plan was to hide from you and sleep his feelings, promising to himself to act normal once the sun's up. But you were here now….

That had to be a sign, right?

He turned to you fully, finally speaking. "I need to tell you something."

If you thought you were already perturbed earlier then that was nothing compared to the apprehension you felt the moment you heard his words with a tone so serious. His voice was a new kind of deep, too, that you have only heard now. It was smooth and soothing and you probably wouldn't believe that it came from Jackson if you didn't see his lips move.

"Yes…?"

He took a step closer, hesitant at first, before he took another with a surer stride, stopping only when the distance between you two was a step away. Jackson's mouth opened, as if to say something, but nothing came out. Who was he kidding? He wasn't a word person. He was Wang Jackson and when wants to convey something, he does it best with actions; actions speak louder than words, after all, right? So act he did.

Internally, Jackson thanked you for convincing him to get some alcohol in his system, knowing he could have never dreamt of doing this sober. 

Liquid courage coursing through his veins, Jackson cupped your cheek, angled your face ever so slightly before leaning down and crashing his lips down on yours rather roughly in fear he might chicken out at the last minute.

It was awkward at first, with you standing there in silent stupor with a pair of lips on yours that you haven't quite registered yet. You do know that this was was entirely different than how it felt with Jinyoung. That was obligatory and made you feel… well, nothing.

But Jackson's was clumsy and still somehow hesitant yet making you feel warm all the same. He was about to pull away, most likely discouraged from your lack of response. Your arms were faster, though, hooking them around his neck and tugging him back. You could feel him stiffen against your hold for a moment before he resumed the kiss.

Feeling his lips move against yours, you matched his pace as the kiss that started out rather clumsily is now slowly yet steadily growing into something much more passionate and sincere. His other arm snaked its way around your waist as he pulled you closer until your body was flushed against his. And as Jackson got his confidence back, his kisses that were once exploring were growing heated. You can spend hours kissing Jackson, you realized, seemingly unable to get enough. So when he pulled away without warning, you huffed softly in protest, pouting your now swollen lower lip.

Now that you weren't engage in a liplock, your sense of hearing ,that you didn't know had left, returned just in time to hear the voice of people downstairs simultaneously counting down aloud.

3…

2…

1…

"Merry Christmas." Jackson whispered, locking gazes with you as he smiled that million dollar smile of his before resting his forehead on yours. You grinned back.

"Merry Christmas." 

And just like that, his lips were back on yours. Turns out, you two were the Christmas Miracle Jackson was so intent on happening.