#if you read this far. WOW. twenty parts. TWENTY.

[ireverie]

indulgence

pairing ↠ serial killer!sunghoon x (f) professor!reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, graphic depictions of murder, graphic depictions of violence, noncon, mentions of pregnancy, sunghoon is 43 (set in 2023)

summary ↠ you're an accomplished detective in the detroit area and park sunghoon is a prolific serial killer. when your department sends you on its behalf to pull back his layers, you attempt to convince sunghoon to recount his experiences and unravel the mystery once and for all.

wc ↠ 10.3k

a/n ↠ originally posted on my blog revehae, i am not plagiarizing myself. sunghoon’s american for the plot. part 3/3 of the in my blood series. as always, feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

the deepest prick of unease settled through you and you shuddered from its nipping cold. 

killers were your forte, but none like this. never in your life had you ever met a killer who’d been at their craft for over a decade. they typically got sloppy after the first half, which insinuated that this sunghoon park guy, whoever he was, was far from an ameteur. 

“gate twelve,” came the guard’s voice, speaking into a transmitter. he was to escort you to sunghoon’s holding room.

the gate lifted. behind it, you clocked the riveting face of detroit’s worst nightmare, hands cuffed at his back as he sat facing you. there was a sort of twisted grin on his face, not as if he was excited to have a visitor, but excited his visitor had been you.

“good luck with this guy. officers tried to get him to budge. he didn’t take the fifth, but the bastard’s damn good at talking in circles,” the guard whispered in your ear.

“duly noted,” you replied quietly, stepping further and taking the seat across from sunghoon. 

the guard left you to your devices, shutting the door behind you and leaving through the passage that led to the gate. complete and total privacy was the only way sunghoon agreed to talk. your department initially refused, insisting there should at least be one or two other officers monitoring the interview, but you let him have his way.

if you wanted to get this man to talk, that was your only option.

“hello, sunghoon. i’m detective ___ from the detroit police department,” you introduced yourself coolly, cloaking your nerves with confidence. never would you show a guy like this any fear.

sunghoon hadn’t stopped grinning since he made eye contact with you. you’d seen pictures at most and he was devilishly handsome, even more so in person, but it didn’t compensate for his unsettling aura. “that’s a beautiful name, detective.”

“flattery will get you nowhere, park.”

“it’s gotten me here,” sunghoon quipped. 

“yes, it has. and i suppose you already know why i’m here.”

“yes, i do,” sunghoon said, pleasant thus far. “you want me to tell you about the murders.”

you bobbed your head. “i do. you see, you’re an enigma to me, sunghoon. you turn yourself in, get fingerprinted, and all of the sudden our datsbase’s going off because your prints are connected to three other crimes over the past twenty-five years.”

sunghoon feigned surprise. “wow, it’s been that long?”

“it has,” you replied, in spite of knowing he couldn’t have not been aware. “martina mortes in 1998, sabrina lee in 2005, christine dalton in 2013, and dr. lee this year.”

sunghoon leaned back in his chair. “i’m familiar with those names.”

“you should be. you sexually assaulted and murdered these women,” you spat, none too tender. “except for martina mortes. you only strangled her. do you want to tell me why that it is?”

“what’s the weather like today? i haven’t been outside, but summer has been kind to detroit.”

ignoring him, you persisted, “let me guess. she was your first victim and that kill, unlike the others, was spontaneous. her being dead defeated the purpose of the sex act, didn’t it?”

“well, do you like your partners warm or cold, detective?” sunghoon asked, deflecting. 

you were heeding the guard’s warning. it seemed this guy liked to answer questions with questions, your least favorite type of offender. “that’s why when you subsequently added the sex act to part of your crimes, you kept your victims much longer, because you like to see them suffer. until you got bored. then, you killed them and dumped their bodies like trash.”

as if he was disinterested, sunghoon glanced to the side and yawned. 

the audacity on this guy was astounding. “am i boring you, park?”

sunghoon replied with total indifference, “if you think you know everything, then why are we here?”

you answered without hesitation, “because i think you’ve wanted to tell someone about what you’ve done for a long time, sunghoon. but you realize that you’re not like other people. i’m giving you the opportunity to get it all off of your chest.”

sunghoon cocked his head to the side, as if he was contemplating your offer. his face was borderline inscrutable. it was difficult, if not impossible, to decipher what he was thinking.

you restrained from heaving a breath. there was a crushing weight on your shoulders, the expectation to get this guy to crack. if you couldn’t do it, nobody would - ever. “how many victims do you have?”

“four.” sunghoon’s answer was quick, automatic. like he didn’t even have to think about it for a second.

folding your arms on the table, you shook your head. “no, i just don’t think that’s true. see, we’re pretty sure martina mortes, your high school girlfriend, was your first victim, and the college professor was your last.”

sunghoon cocked a brow. “but?”

“but there’s no way someone like you could’ve resisted your urges between four kills over the past two decades and then some.”

there was no point in denying the four victims, because you already had substantial proof. nor did sunghoon deny that martina was his first victim, because given the decomposition of the bodies, she died long before the other three. admitting that she wasn’t would be admitting that there were unfound others.

and sunghoon had no intention of implicating himself more than he already had. the only reason he turned himself in was because he didn’t want to prolong the inevitable, for whatever reason. he pulled his lips into a mock frown. “your assumptions about my self-restraint are hurtful,” he replied.

whatever, moron, you thought irritability. “i think they’re more than just assumptions.”

sunghoon teased, “then, let me know when you know something.”

you narrowed your eyes, groaning, “oh, come on. i know and you know that you can’t ignore your desires for a month, let alone over ten years. you have a compulsion. killing makes you feel powerful, it makes you feel in control, and you can’t live without the high it gives you.”

“you make me sound like an addict,” sunghoon remarked, pretending to be offended.

“it wouldn’t be so far from the truth,” you said, glancing over the file at your end of the table. “the first two kills were seven years apart. the second two kills were ten. full offense, i don’t see how you could control yourself for so long.”

“you can believe what you want, detective. i didn’t kill anyone else,” sunghoon lied, not that you ever needed to know. 

of course, he couldn’t control himself. the second he took someone’s life, it became a part of him, and his purpose in this world became clear to him. for the first time in his life, he felt as if he had something that made living worthwhile.

you surrendered. it was obvious sunghoon was intelligent and he wouldn’t be easily tricked into confessing. “okay, fine. let’s talk about the victims we know of. tell me about martina mortes.”

“what is there to tell?” sunghoon asked, brow cocked. “we met in junior high. then, in eleventh grade, we got together.”

“tell me about why you killed her,” you insisted, painfully curious. “it happened in chicago, before you moved to detroit over the summer. you killed her in the heat of the moment.”

sunghoon gave the impression that he would take a minute to crack, so you were surprised when he said in response to your prodding, “we got into a wrangle, if you will.”

that much was obvious. “what kind of wrangle?”

the garage was hot and the air was stuffy, making it difficult to breathe. to say nothing of the frustration scorching sunghoon’s skin, his face tensed into an irritated glower.

there was something about women he never liked, the seemingly inherent ability to blow almost anything out of proportion, as exhibited now as his girlfriend screamed in his face. his stepmother was the same, never not coming up with a reason to fuss at him. he was always walking on eggshells around that woman. 

martina was bristling. “you always fucking do this, sunghoon.”

sunghoon heaved a breath, sighing, “what - what do i always do, martina?”

“you trivialize everything i go through. you make me feel like i’m overreacting when i’m not, you just refuse to hold yourself accountable,” she spat. 

“martina, we’re about to go to college, for fuck’s sake! you can’t focus on your academics and a goddamn child. i don’t get why you won’t just have an abortion and call it a day,” sunghoon roared, heating up a thousand degrees.

“god, do you listen to a word that comes out of my mouth? my parents will kill me, sunghoon. if not for being pregnant at eighteen, then for killing it.”

sunghoon sighed. “i don’t see the part where that’s my problem.”

tears blurred martina’s eyes. she came up to him, shattered by his carelessness and embraced by isolation, and bellowed, “you want to know what your problem is? your problem is that you’re an incompetent bastard with no regard for other people!”

sunghoon’s body was engulfed in flames but his shoulders were cold, and he lost control of his emotions, grabbing martina by the throat. he effortlessly lifted her with a single hand and smashed her against the closest wall none too gently, watching her eyes wince closed.

“you wanna say that again?” sunghoon asked, nothing short of belligerent.

ache spread out through the back of martina’s head, a ceaseless throbbing worse than any hungover. her feet dangled off of the ground, waving and kicking, fingers weakly prying at the ones pressing down on her windpipe. until she was completely still, legs dropping, hands going limp at her sides.

“i didn’t even realize how long i spent standing there, until she felt… empty, and i knew she was gone,” sunghoon confessed, but his tone was far from sympathetic. “she scratched me. you know, when she was trying to pry my hands off. i didn’t know until hours later.”

you shook your head, disdainful. “you killed your pregnant girlfriend?”

sunghoon groaned, “oh, please. i was eighteen. i would’ve been a terrible father.”

“i would be slightly more inclined to accept that as an excuse if it weren’t for the fact that you had a son by sabrina lee only two years later,” you said viciously.

“a lot can change in two years.”

“i’m sure it did.” your eyes flickered over the file again, but nothing would allow you to familiarize yourself with this killer more than talking to him yourself. “for example, you realized just how much you liked killing.”

if sunghoon could’ve raised his hands, he would’ve. “your words, not mine.”

you leaned over the table, unrelenting. “tell me about it, sunghoon. how did it feel when you strangled her with your bare hands? what was it like?”

sunghoon chuckled. “is that what you wanna hear?”

you nodded. 

sunghoon leaned in too, getting closer to you, and whispered in your ear, “i squeezed every last breath out of her, one by one, until there was nothing left for her brain and she went slack in my arms. and when i was done, i felt elated. i felt free. it woke up this dormant sensation inside of me that i swore to never repress again, because it made me feel alive.”

your lungs started to feel shallower, like no breath could reach the bottom, and you sensed your heart come to a halt for a minute. sunghoon pulled back, grinning from ear to ear, as if he was proud of himself. 

“detective, did i startle you?” sunghoon asked, tilting his head ever so slightly. 

your face hardened. “why would you ever think that?”

“you’re not as good at feigning indifference as you think you are, detective. full offense,” he mimicked, mocking.

he’s just a fragile man that kills women to make him feel better about himself, because he needs to be in control. don’t give him power over you. that’s what he wants, you said to yourself, shutting any and all other thoughts. “so, you killed martina, nobody could connect her disappearance to you, and by the time they discovered her body you were already studying for college two states over.”

sunghoon ignored you, at least for a little. he was taking a liking to making you feel uneasy around him. “has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?” he asked out of nowhere.

“you aren’t my type. i don’t fool around with serial killers,” you replied sharply.

sunghoon didn’t seem to be offended, but you didn’t expect him to. “really now? it feels like we’re on a date right now. after all, we are getting to know each other.”

you asked, “have you always had such a distorted perception of normal human interaction?”

sunghoon shot with no hesitation, “have you always had such a sharp mouth?”

you pulled yourself together. the only way you would get anywhere with this guy was by establishing that you were the one in control. “okay, enough. this is my interview, park. you answer my questions, not vice versa.”

“that’s not any fair,” sunghoon told you, that unnerving smile still on his lips. “i don’t have to tell you anything, you know. and without me, you lose the only key to those answers you want so badly.”

“you shutting up doesn’t make much of a difference, considering you’re already dodging my questions,” you replied.

“let’s play a game,” sunghoon suggested.

you weren’t in the mood for any games, but that was sunghoon’s method of operation. “i don’t like games.”

“you’ll like this one,” sunghoon insisted, laughing. “twenty questions.”

your shoulders dropped. “am i supposed to be guessing something?”

sunghoon shook his head, something sinister about him. “no, it’s much easier than that. we take turns asking each other questions until i’ve answered ten and you’ve unanswered ten.”

you stared into his eyes, willing yourself not to break contact. he was just as relentless, silently cocking a brow at you, as if to challenge. and you weren’t an idiot. that’s exactly what it was. you asserted, “i go first, you can only ask me yes or no questions, and if i don’t like your final answer i get to press you for another.”

sunghoon slightly lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “yes, ma’am.”

“okay,” you started. “what made you move from illinois to michigan?”

“i was kicked out of the house. didn’t have anywhere else to go. but i had a buddy here whose family took me in,” sunghoon answered frankly.

you pondered those words, wondering if his aforementioned buddy knew about his secret indulgences. or if he asked why sunghoon’s parents kicked him out of their home. it would’ve been the question scratching at your mind, itching to be answered.

sunghoon’s lips parted. “what kind of perfume are you wearing - honey lavender?”

“yes,” you said, focusing your attention on anything but the possibilities of how he could’ve known that. he’d been with so many people to the point where he just knew. “why did you get kicked out of the house?”

“my dad always thought there was something different about me, ever since i was a child. he was a nasty piece of work. he found my journal, read a couple of things i wrote, and decided there was no hope for me in the house,” sunghoon ranted.

that piqued your curiosity. “what did you write about?”

“wait your turn,” sunghoon sang. “your hair smells just as lovely as the rest of you. do you match scents all the time?”

you were mildly uncomfortable, but given the type of dude he was, you stifled it. “yes. you don’t have to be such a pervert all the time, you know?”

again, sunghoon rolled his shoulders, chirping, “you call it perverse. i call it amusing.”

you almost cursed under your breath when you realize you’d asked him a question. “wait, i didn’t mean to ask…”

sunghoon cut you off, “that’s too bad. it’s my turn again. do you like necklaces?”

“not ones made out of fingers,” you retorted. it was meant to be a joke to hide how unsettled you were, hyper aware of the necklace dangling around your neck. you could feel invisible pressure on your throat.

sunghoon snickered. “i’ll admit that was funny.”

you pressed, “what did you write about in the journal?”

“my dreams,” he admitted vaguely, though in reality, he wrote endlessly about his corrupt fantasies of abusing women. some pages were about his stepsister, and there was a few about what he’d done to martina, though not explicitly. “you have the most beautiful eyes. they’re the perfect shade.”

you were certain he had told many other girls those same words and were not flattered in the slightest. the glare you were giving him was ferocious. “i’m not sure if there’s a question in there somewhere.”

“do you think your eyes are pretty?”

“i haven’t really thought about it,” you told him, quick to change the topic. you’d encountered your fair share of stranglers and it was no secret why he was so interested in your eyes. “was your relationship with your father estranged?”

“nothing was enough for that man. i had the top grades in my class and the highest gpa, and he took my door off its hinges and seized my privacy,” sunghoon told you, words harsh, but his tone plain. “he was obsessed with being the perfect family, something that was ruined the second my mother destroyed everything, and rather than embrace me, he turned me away.”

your eyes flickered. there was something about his language that stood out to you. courtesy of the research you’d done on him beforehand, you were aware that his father was divorced then remarried his stepmother, who already had a daughter sunghoon’s age. but rather than describe his parent’s separation as a divorce, he said his mother destroyed everything.

what a hostile view towards women, you mused, repulsed. but given the nature of his crimes, it adds up. and it might’ve been the origin of his hatred.

his family was twisted. you couldn’t fathom how his father, aware of just how unwell his son was, clocked his abusive fantasies towards women, and instead of getting him the help he needed, he left him to his own devices to slaughter them as he pleased.

you blinked when sunghoon leaned, craning his face towards yours, and snapped out of your reverie when you jolted back. 

“there you are,” sunghoon said, chuckling at your surprise. it was all over your face. “i’ve been talking to myself all this time. you must’ve been thinking about me.”

“no, not really. i was wondering if i forgot to feed my dog last night.” it was an obvious lie, but you would never encourage this guy to feel more important than he was.

amusement gleamed in sunghoon’s eyes. he was having a wonderful time, truth be told. had you not been so pretty, he would’ve clamped up like a crab, but you were so pleasing to the eye that he didn’t mind confessing a couple of truths. “a dog. that’s interesting. i myself have always wanted a pet - a snake. the constricting kind are my favorite.”

“you don’t say,” you droned, voice dripping with crisp irony.

your sarcasm was chucklesome to sunghoon, but his words were the truth. he remembered, all those years ago, asking his father for a pet snake. and when he refused, sunghoon, in turn, killed the family dog. he added, “they don’t just suffocate their prey. they coil around them, almost like a straitjacket, and cut off its blood supply.”

you replied, “yeah, but animals hunt to survive. you hunted because you had nothing better to do with your life.”

“in my humble opinion, we’re all animals of nature, and creatures of sin,” sunghoon told you in a whisper, as if he were telling you a secret of some kind. “anyways, it’s my turn now.”

you resisted a disgruntled exhale. 

like his questions couldn’t get any more absurd and strangely perverse, sunghoon asked, “when you shower, what do you use - a washcloth or a loofah?”

“that’s not a yes or no question,” you replied with total disinterest. 

“it’s hardly any less simple.”

“a washcloth,” you replied, though only because you needed to ask him your questions and resisting an answer would only waste valuable time. “why did you wait so long before killing sabrina lee?”

sunghoon smiled at the mention of his son’s mother, but the grin on his lips was distinguishable from the others. like he didn’t even realize he was smiling. “she was special. i loved her.”

“no, you didn’t. you don’t hurt people that you love.”

“maybe that’s true for you, but you’ve called me everything but a child of god and it’s clear you don’t think you and i are alike,” sunghoon said. “i don’t miss her, though, because she left a better print on this world. a world that was never made for her in the first place.”

a better print on this world. your brows furrowed, until you remembered the child they shared together. “you know what i think? i think whatever you felt for your son’s mother was the closest thing to love you’ll ever be able to pull from your ugly black heart.”

“you’re very strongly opinionated,” sunghoon responded, ever so unbothered. maybe some decades ago, it would’ve irked him to the point of breaking, but he was much more in charge of his impulses now.

you lifted your shoulders, gazing at him with the most discerning of eyes. all he could think about was how nice it would’ve been to seize you by the throat and watch the light dull from them.

to your surprise, sunghoon’s next question was not as a deviant as you assumed it would be, asking, “what made you decide you wanted to become a detective?”

“because of the people i used to know that aren’t around to tell you why,” you answered distantly, before pressing, “how was sabrina different, sunghoon?”

sunghoon perched over the table again, an uncomfortable distance close to you, made worse by his whispers. “because unlike the others, she didn’t beg me to stop - she begged me to finish. for it to be over. and when i wouldn’t, she begged me to kill her.”

the mental picture you got was cruel. your heart hurt for these women that had no idea what hit them until it was too late. 

“i put these women out of their misery,” sunghoon continued. 

you spat in a heartbeat, “the misery that you forced them to endure.”

sunghoon winced. “no, these women were miserable long before they met me. they were just ignorant of it. impressionability is a weakness.”

“either you have one hell of a god complex or you are working overtime to justify your sick actions.”

sunghoon merely shrugged, vicious and ominous and everything in between. there was something so dark about his spirit. you could feel it just from sitting within a couple of feet of him. 

sunghoon’s memories were triggered. he was reminiscing about the times he shared with his son’s mother, how perfect she was. there were no other women like her. she was his favorite victim, someone he took his sweet time with, while the others were disposed of in a few months time. 

midnight loomed, riding on the tail of dusk. sunghoon was counting down the minutes until the clock struck twelve, a self-imposed rule to gauge his willpower. the second the hour came, he bolted from the crackling sound of the cabin’s fireplace to a bedroom, anticipation like a stimulant.

the wooden floorboards creaked the closer sunghoon crept to the door. save for himself and the woman chained to the bedpost, the cabin was void of life. it belonged to the parents of a close friend who ensured it was vacant whenever sunghoon needed a place to indulge his twisted fantasies.

which was basically all of the time.

he meandered inside with a crisp bottle of water in hand, droplets condensing at its sides. sabrina laid right where he left her, just as broken, dreading her next breath. tape adhered to the flesh over her mouth, muffling her whimpers. there was nobody around for miles, the cabin was totally isolated, but it was a safety measure.

the chains were used likewise. when sunghoon was not there, the restraints kept her prisoner. sunghoon, reckless as he could be back then, was many things and stupid was not one of them. the chains stretched long enough to reach the bathroom but no further and he had his loyal friend help him test it after each victim.

“can you go further?” sunghoon called out.

heeseung’s lower limbs were shackled, ceasing his footsteps just shy of the hallway as he came to a total standstill. “not if i want my legs to follow me,” he’d retorted.

sunghoon had snickered. “good.”

had sunghoon been there, though, he would take the chains off. none of this was fair, even sunghoon didn’t believe that, but not giving them the chance to fight was too unfair. he needed not to chain them when he had the gift of his big, burly arms.

sunghoon waltzed over with a lighthearted and carefree gait, as if this was just another wednesday afternoon to him. and in some sick, despicable way, that wasn’t too far from the truth. he ripped the tape from sabrina’s lips, watching her face tense with pain.

“sunghoon,” sabrina rasped, voice croaking. he could tell from her flushed face and misty eyes that she’d been crying. “i’m thirsty.”

sunghoon cocked a brow, glancing to his hand. he had an irritating knack for playing dumb. it used to be endearing. now, with everything she knew to be true torn from her bare hands, sabrina didn’t know what to think. “what - you want this?”

sabrina nodded.

“yeah?” he popped off the top, throwing back a few gulps just before releasing a satisfied, “ah.”

sabrina’s lips trembled. “please.”

had she been anybody else, sunghoon probably would’ve dangled the water in her face just to snatch it away, but there was something about sabrina that made him gravitate towards her. in a rare moment of benevolence, sunghoon handed her the water, letting her drink.

she didn’t drink in short sips, but in giant gulps as if she’d known for some time that they’d be her last. when her thirst was satiated, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, handing the bottle back, and whispered, “thank you.”

sunghoon set the drink aside before returning to her, unshackling her limbs. sabrina’s breath quickened the moment the chains clacked harshly against the floor and nearly stilled when he brought his hand to her flushed face, tracing her chapped lips with a calloused thumb.

his thoughts rushed with unbridled exhilaration, ablaze with suspense, but he slowed for a moment to marvel at her loveliness. sunghoon’s hand touched her hair, touch tender in ways it would never be again, because he would never again know a woman as great as her.

he brought his lips to her ear, nibbling at the shell before asking, “do you know what i want you to do?”

sabrina bobbed her head, starting to halfheartedly peel off her clothes without needing to be told. with so many days held prisoner in this hell hole, it became routine. like she’d already resigned herself to her fate and knew sunghoon getting his way was inevitable. he always got what he wanted.

to be frank, it came out of nowhere. she never saw this twisted side of him coming. all she knew was that she became suspicious of his lack of family presence and it was too late when she saw him for the monster that he was, and then she woke here.

it had to have been months ago, although sabrina couldn’t have been sure how many. everyday started to bleed into the static hopelessness of another. sometimes sunghoon wouldn’t show for days, leaving her to live antsily, dreading his unavoidable return. other times, he would spend a day or two in the cabin, fucking her into kingdom come. 

as if she couldn’t be any more faultless. sunghoon smirked. “smart girl,” he purred. he would never deny her wit, given that she’d caught onto him, but her lack of strength was her only vice.

sunghoon restlessly tossed his own shirt over his naked shoulder and came to step out of his boxers. there was mischief on his plush lips. he knew something sabrina only knew from the unkind churn of her gut.

the end was more than near. it loomed over her, relentless and remorseless, and all she could like it to was dark and leaden clouds in a somber sky. even then, there was almost nothing she wouldn’t give to see the world again, but she’d long kissed that hope goodbye.

“down,” sunghoon told her, tone dark and stern.

she pliantly did as told, bare back meeting the mattress. sunghoon crept over her, hard cock twitching at the sight of her so meek. typically, he liked when they put up a fight, but sabrina knew better.

sunghoon could tell she was fighting back tears, willing herself not to cry with a stabilized breath, but her endeavors were in vain the second he started to force his way inside her. they escaped her eyes and dampened her cheeks, unable to overlook the agony of the stretch. 

“shh, baby,” sunghoon crooned in her ear, the weight of his body bearing down onto hers. “what’s the matter? you used to beg me to fuck you.”

sabrina shook her head, silently pleading for a mercy she knew deep down that sunghoon wasn’t capable of. “please make it quick.”

sunghoon’s tone was almost sweet. “but baby, you told me you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, remember?” 

sunghoon knew that his words weren’t reassuring and he didn’t intend for them to be. there was a reason why he loved how she tried to hold herself together. he got to push her limits, find her breaking point. in the end, she would get her wish, and in a way, sunghoon thought that that was love.

her walls were just as tight and vice-like as they’d been all those times he’d taken her before. if sunghoon got close enough to her, let his hands wander and tease as they never not had done, sabrina would still involuntarily gush around his cock. like her body knew she was forever a slave to his touch. 

just looking at her face as she wept sent shock waves of pleasure rippling through his dick and chest. sabrina didn’t cry in noisy, gasping sobs. her tears dripped from her thick lashes quietly, mouth parting in the most silent of whimpers.

and she orgasmed the same way, sunghoon remembered. back when things were normal between them, when she begged for him to fuck her, as he called it, her release was marked by a volatile shudder, but a silent cry of ecstasy.

sunghoon pushed sabrina’s lips into an upward curling with his thumb and index finger. “smile for the camera, sabrina,” he whispered.

sabrina’s brows furrowed, painfully oblivious to the camera tracking her every emote. sunghoon couldn’t not document his deeds. there was something about being able to play them over, immersing himself back in that moment over and over, even when the life itself could not be so easily brought back.

but for sunghoon, they could be. when he rewatched these videos again and again, it was like he could feel their pulses thump in their neck, resuscitating.

sunghoon’s hands were everywhere, fingertips traipsing towards sabrina’s neck where marks lingered from all the times he’d strangled her, only to slacken his grip when she was just shy of passing out. the bruises were different colors, indicative of different healing stages. sabrina tensed, startled, and wondered when it would all be over.

“sunghoon.” sabrina was overcome with defeat. her voice cracked as she asked, “sunghoon, please just cum.”

sunghoon’s face tensed with pleasure. “fuck, babe, when you say it like that…”

he stood at the brink of climax, threatening to teeter over, and there was only one thing that could knock him over quicker than anything else. it wouldn’t be anything she said, anything she did, but only a weakness sunghoon had the power to wield against himself.

“you want me to finish?”

sabrina nodded. 

sunghoon chuckled darkly. “then, in that case, it’s time for you to get your wish, baby.”

he watched her shoulders slump, releasing all hope of ever knowing anything different again and accepting that this was where things ended. thinking about the feeling he remembered none too distantly, one that almost seemed to keep his blood pumping through him, in a way, sunghoon’s fingers itched.

sunghoon lifted his hands, bringing them to sabrina’s face, but before he could touch her, she exclaimed, “wait, sunghoon!”

his brow cocked. 

sabrina’s lips trembled. “can you tell me what today is? please?”

“wednesday,” sunghoon replied, holding his hands around her neck, but keeping his grip slack. for now.

“wednesday,” sabrina said, pulling her lips into the faintest of smiles as tears blurred her vision. “will you tell jake that i hope he has an amazing thursday?”

“that can be arranged,” sunghoon said, grinning.

sabrina nodded, setting her mind at ease. she’d already made peace with this day some months ago. she never knew when it come, but she saw it as something bound to happen. “thank you,” she whispered. 

those were her last words. because when sunghoon tightened his grip at her throat, almost like tightening a noose, he couldn’t bring himself to stop in spite of the agonized gleam in her stare. and then her stare was empty, and sunghoon had already emptied his load inside of her.

to describe the sensation he got from killing in a way that captured its essence would be impossible. it was more than feeling the life leave her. it was more than watching her eyes become soulless. it was a release, a way of relinquishing all of the vacantness he harbored, and knowing that his heart was still there.

it would always return, sometimes as soon as the next day, but for a minute, sunghoon was whole and no drug could replicate that kind of contentedness.

sunghoon did tell jake what sabrina said. he wasn’t all too sure why, maybe it was because she was his mother and jake was her son that they’d created together, and sunghoon would never have it any other way. for her to be the one to give him a child, he couldn’t imagine any other woman in her place.

it was almost unfortunate that she had to go so soon. even sunghoon thought that her demise was premature. had she not grown so suspicious of him, sunghoon could imagine making her his wife, maybe even spending the rest of his life with her.

their marriage wouldn’t have been without his secret dark life, but sabrina wouldn’t’ve been a victim. alas, loose ends needed to be tied. sunghoon couldn’t trust that she would’ve kept quiet, and even then, she was in a much more fitting place for an angel like herself.

there was much of this memory that would be abridged. never would sunghoon reveal anything about the cabin or the dear friend that helped him commit his indulgences, or even the existence of the tapes. if they found those videos, that was proof of murder with a grand total of 106 women.

the air around you was heavy and the words you’d just been fed weren’t easily take in. “what you’re just told me is really sad.”

but sunghoon didn’t look sad. whether or not he ever truly cared for sabrina would perpetually be a mystery. “maybe,” he started. “but tell me that you wouldn’t hurt the person you loved most if it was what was best for them.”

“i did. but what i had to do is different from what you were.”

sunghoon’s interest was piqued. “how come?”

“it was my responsibility to decide whether or not to take my sister off of the ventilator. there was no hope for her,” you confessed, though brushed over it quickly. “what happened to your ex-wife?”

“not that interesting of a story,” sunghoon said. “she wasn’t sabrina, i got tired of her, here we are.”

“and yet she wasn’t a one-off like martina mortes.”

“had she been a one-off, my body count would be one number higher. that was a favor,” sunghoon told you, grinning as if you actually had something to be grateful for.

you didn’t waste a second to accuse, “because you need to keep your victims to extract all the relief that you can from them, right?”

“i’m afraid it’s not your turn to ask questions,” sunghoon replied tauntingly. “what was your sister like - did she have long hair? what color were her eyes? how long were her lashes?”

sick son of a bitch, bellowed the voice in your head, though you willed yourself to remain composed. it was plain on his face that sunghoon didn’t want an answer - he wanted a reaction. and as furious as that made you, you couldn’t let him provoke you. “that’s none of your business,” you said, but there was a loophole. “but she was beloved.”

that qualified as an answer. sunghoon glanced at you in a way that made you feel see-through, as if he knew that you were threatening to come apart at the seams and didn’t buy your nonchalance for a minute. 

sated, he went on to feed you bullshit about his ex-wife’s death, though there were only four people who knew what truly happened to her and one of them was dead.

sunghoon remembered that day like it happened yesterday. it was a thursday evening when he’d come home from work. christine had picked jake up from school hours ago and sunghoon wholly expected to come home to her in the kitchen.

it was dark outside. the moon was a mere sliver and the stars were duller than they typically were, almost like they had witnessed something that drained their spirits. sunghoon remembered struggling to identify his house key, trying each of them until the door clicked open.

“i’m home,” sunghoon’s voice thundered as he turned to lock the door. 

there were quick footsteps from upstairs. jake, sunghoon thought, more than familiarized with the sound. but there was none of christine’s usual voice.

“dad, i’m hungry,” came jake’s voice from the stairs, coming down them one by one.

that in itself should’ve been suspicious, but instead, all sunghoon could think about was how sabrina would’ve already fed her son. “hasn’t christine made dinner by now?” sunghoon asked, irritated.

jake shook his head, though sunghoon couldn’t see. he was hanging his coat on the rack, like he always did after he locked the door. “she can’t right now.”

“why not?”

“because i think she’s dead,” jake replied, nonchalant as ever.

that was the very second that sunghoon turned around and noticed that jake was stained with blood. it was all over his face and the spots would probably never come out of his clothes, not that they would be kept.

for half a minute, sunghoon was genuinely stunned.

jake didn’t say what happened, and there was no need to. “the blood won’t come off,” was all he said, showing his father the pair of hands that he’d washed with vigor.

sunghoon heaved a breath. he should’ve seen this coming. jake took after his father and he never liked christine. to say the least, sunghoon couldn’t blame him. “where is she?”

“where they all go,” jake replied, as if it was the most normal and natural thing in the world to him. 

sunghoon headed for the basement with quick footsteps, jake following behind. if somebody were to come down there, they wouldn’t suspect a thing. not only was it decorated to look like one, but it was used as a man cave. behind a soundproof wall, though, was a dungeon for his prisoners. 

in this case, there was a trail of blood leading to the wall, proof that jake had somehow brought christine there after he hurt her. sunghoon entered the cell and saw her there behind the bars, coming to her side to check her pulse. 

pressing his thumb to her wrist and neck, sunghoon sensed a pulse, though it was weakening. “she’s not dead,” he said, wresting his phone out of his pocket.

jake didn’t look so relieved, but he didn’t voice his dissatisfaction. “are you mad?”

sunghoon glanced down at christine. jake had used a kitchen knife, attacking her in the heat of the moment. she was butchered and blood-splattered, on the verge of slaughter, and yet sunghoon couldn’t find it in him to offer any compassion. “that you hurt her? no. that you made a mess? a little.”

now that was a relief. to jake, at least back then, his dad was the coolest guy that he knew.

there was quite the scene in front of him and sunghoon didn’t have a thing for blood. he shook his head in reproach, chastising, “i’m going to teach you the right way to get rid of a woman when you’re sick of her.”

that piqued jake’s curiosity. 

sunghoon was quick to dial heeseung’s number. he had medical experience and that was what he needed right now. when the call connected, he said, “i’m in calling in a favor.”

heeseung patched her up again. at least for a few months, sunghoon still needed her breathing. they scrubbed the floors free of blood, burned jake’s bloodied clothes, and it was as if nothing ever happened.

what sunghoon had told you was only a fraction of the truth, but still enough to make you want to grimace. it bemused you how he got away with murdering his ex-wife and nobody thought to suspect her husband with a track record of disappearing partners.

“you want to know what’s really amazing?” you started, though it was more like disgusting. “how three of the women you’ve killed were your significant others, and somehow, you’ve only now been incriminated.”

sunghoon looked proud of himself. had it not been for jake, he probably would’ve never been caught. “sabrina never told anyone that we dated, or that she had a baby by me. her parents wanted her to focus on her education. if they knew she’d gotten pregnant, she would’ve been the black sheep.”

“and you took advantage of that,” you hissed. 

“so what if i did?” sunghoon asked, careless. “not to mention that dozens of teenage girls in chicago were going missing at the time. they added martina to that number and called it a day. is that sad? maybe. but that’s how it works.”

“and as for your co-worker?” you asked sharply. the boldness of his crimes astounded you. “her husband grieves her. were you having an affair?”

the thought of her made sunghoon chuckle. oh, were we, he reminisced. it was a misfortune that he didn’t get the chance to have his way with her the way that he wanted. and for that reason, he couldn’t regale you in a truthful account of her death.

what happened that day, the day his co-worker died, challenged his fate and was the reason that he only now knew the imprisonment he thrusted upon others.

sunghoon knew when he spotted her that he would revel in her vulnerability. married, but she hardly wore her ring. her kind was the most naive - the kind that believed ecstasy was without costly sin. one way or another, she had to reap what she sowed.

he worked his way inside her pants, but it was hardly any work; she was on a desperate pursuit for pleasure and when sunghoon promised it to her, offering content on a silver platter, she thought less with her brain and more with the throbbing between her legs.

for months, sunghoon slept with her, which was far from typical. if she were anybody else, sunghoon would have pursued her for a couple of weeks time, then banished her to the underground prison. though considering he already had a victim down there at the time, he had some time to spare.

it was no secret that she had grown fond of sunghoon in ways she hadn’t been of her husband in a very long time, and though sunghoon found her to be special, in a way, he could not reciprocate her feelings. when sunghoon saw her, all he felt was the overwhelming urge to use her with a lick of remorse, and squeeze those panting breaths out of her.

it was a shame that he never got the opportunity. sunghoon already tested the bounds of his self-restraint when it came to her, each of their encounters consensual with her oblivious to his deepest, darkest desires. sometimes, his fingers would wander to her neck, but even that was wanted.

what was not wanted was the tyranny over her body that preceded her death. it bemused sunghoon to learn that his son, along with two of his friends that he thought of like brothers and sunghoon thought of like sons, ravaged her to the brink of being unrecognizable.

had sunghoon held control over the situation, he wouldn’t have cared what happened to her and would have even permitted them to go to town. but what happened was somehow darker. when he got a call from the professor late that day, hearing her broken sobs over the phone, he told her to meet him at his house.

that was his first mistake. 

it wasn’t that she didn’t come. she made it there, hopeful to confide in sunghoon about the nightmare that tore her apart, but it was jake that opened the front door. and when she entered, there was no hope out of her coming out breathing.

jake had been a downward spiral ever since a month ago when he stumbled upon the tape of his mother. ever since he was a boy, jake watched every tape he could find of his father’s dark life, even sharing them with his friends as if they were movies and not snuff.

but this was not like those. this was his mother. and watching her suffer, listening to her final request before her untimely death, broke jake in ways which he would never recover.

jake had known since he was little that his mother was dead and his father was to blame, but his understanding of what happened to her was skewed. if he’d known eighteen years ago what he knew today, when sunghoon had his own son aid him in his mother’s demise, none of it would have ever happened.

to say nothing of the fact that what sunghoon had jake do was only a mere fraction of his mother’s suffering. jake would fetch things from the other side of the cabin he vaguely remembered visiting every now and then for three months. when he was not there, which was often, he would lie to his neighbors about her whereabouts.

even though when she died he was only a kid being taken advantage of, jake hated himself for letting it happen right under his nose. he wished he would’ve told his neighbors the truth. maybe if he had, his mother would still be alive and kicking, and he would know the only woman he ever cared for.

that was why he went after his professor that he knew his father had also been eyeing closely and having an affair with. her fate was obvious. sunghoon would entertain her for a while, somehow charm and woo his way into her pants like he did every other woman, kidnap her and keep her downstairs for three months, then kill her and identify the next victim.

but sunghoon’s liking of her was also hopelessly discernable. she was living too long. and that was a telltale sign that sunghoon took a special interest in his son’s professor, something that jake feared would rival the affection (if it existed) for his mother.

jake was not keen on having his mother replaced. the last time it happened, he snapped and maimed his stepmother. and he was not afraid of doing so again.

when jake exacted revenge, it felt like nothing he had ever done before. vengeance tasted like heaven. his professor tasted elysian. and he had never felt so good about himself, but then the high wore off, comparable to the fading release sunghoon got after strangling his victims, and familiar pain seared through him once further. 

vindictiveness was a lethal venom, festering quickly upon injection. after jake got what he wanted, there was a greed to replicate that feeling, in spite of the fact that nothing would compare to that first blow. in his own way, unlike his father’s but similar nonetheless, he was pivoting towards release.

jake was on the brink of something like psychosis when he heard those knocks on his front door. and when he peered outside, spotting the professor, his recklessness got the better of him.

she was dead before she even stepped inside the house. jake yanked her inside, brought her downstairs, and forced himself onto her for a second time that day. when she wept for sunghoon, wishing he would come home, jake almost pitied her naïveté.

if jake hadn’t killed her, wrapping his hands around her throat the way that he knew his father had been yearning to, sunghoon would have.

the look on his professor’s face was pitiful. “sorry,” jake said, though he clasped his hands around her throat harder. “but i have to make a statement.”

it was not particularly a difficult thing to do, at least not to stomach, but killing her was merely just a means to an end. he didn’t get off to it like his father would’ve, jake’s interest lay inflicting psychological damage, but he did it because he knew how much it pleasured sunghoon to squeeze the life out of his victims.

and if jake couldn’t have what he wanted, then as long as he lived, neither would his dad for tearing it away.

sunghoon came home moments too late. jake left his professor in the cellar for his father to find, eyes wide and face pale.

sunghoon glanced around. he saw her car parked outside, but no sign of her. when jake came from his bedroom on the upper floor, a creeping feeling of deja vu flooded sunghoon’s chest, but he asked, “where is she?”

jake’s face was expressionless. “she’s dead,” he replied, confident. “i mean it this time.”

sunghoon shook his head. “you killed her?”

“wasn’t it you that said you were going to teach me the proper way to dispose of a woman when i’m sick of her?” jake asked, approaching his father as he crept down the stairs.

though sunghoon wasn’t pleased, he willed himself to calm down. “did you strangle her?”

“yes.”

sunghoon figured, from the lack of blood staining his house this time around. “will you tell me about it?”

that caught jake off-guard. he expected his father to be angry, to let loose. he had to have been dreaming of choking her since the day he laid eyes on her. “you sick fuck,” jake sneered.

sunghoon snickered, unbothered. that’s rich. “who do you think you got it from?”

obviously, from the face jake was making, he didn’t like that. his nonchalant attitude dissipated. “i’m not like you!”

“keep telling yourself that. maybe one day you’ll delude yourself into believing it,” sunghoon replied, hanging his coat on the rack in spite of knowing he would be leaving again soon.

“i’m not like you - i mean that.”

sunghoon, miffed, rolled his eyes and said, “come on, son. you think i don’t know you and your friends have been watching my tapes for the past decade and then some like they’re cartoons?”

“but not mom’s,” jake spat, loathing fizzing in his stare. 

sunghoon froze, then spun around. “is that what this is all about?”

jake nodded, pleased his father was finally getting the picture. “i found it in your study. you hid it more carefully than the others, because she was special or you didn’t want me to find it, i don’t know.”

sunghoon heaved a breath. “you were never supposed to see that.”

“but i did,” jake replied. “and i’ve suffered every day for the past month because of that.”

sunghoon shot without hesitation, “a suffering you brought upon yourself. nobody asked you to go snooping around in my things.”

jake’s lips were twisted into the meanest snarl sunghoon had ever seen. emotion wrecked through him in its totality. “is that what’s important to you? i shouldn’t be surprised. you couldn’t even spare your own son’s mother from your heartlessness.”

sunghoon massaged his temple, summoning all of his willpower. “please,” he groaned, sensing an incoming headache. “women are weak, cheating whores. just look at your professor. maybe your mother wasn’t, but she was a liability.”

if that was supposed to console jake, it had the complete opposite effect. “are you saying she deserved it?”

“i’m saying that you’ve always been too soft,” sunghoon said, not bothering to sugarcoat his chastising. “just like your mother. even when you were a child. that’s why i had you help me, i hoped you would harden up a little.”

jake scoffed. “unbelievable.”

“your mother went quietly. she didn’t even fight it, jake. so, why are you?”

“because of that,” jake told him, vitriol in his voice. “she didn’t ask you to stop one time. she just asked you to get it over with.”

sunghoon tipped his head back. “ah, yes. she really was perfect, wasn’t she?”

that was all it took to kindle an unforgiving rage within jake and in a moment of fury, flickering through him in a flash, jake lifted his hand to smack his father.

sunghoon caught his wrist, as if this weren’t the first time this had happened and it was wholeheartedly expected. his voice lowered to a mere hiss, “i’ve never laid a hand on you. ever in your life. don’t make today be the day i start.”

jake glared, but wrested his way out of his father’s grip and backed away.

sunghoon smoothed down his shirt and headed for the kitchen, knowing jake would follow. this conversation was far from over. “now, if you excuse me, i have to clean up your mess,” he said, pulling a burner phone out of a drawer. “if you don’t mind.”

“i can clean up my own mess,” jake replied, scowling. 

setting the phone on the counter, sunghoon reached for a glass. “no, you can’t. not without digging your own grave. unless you want to go to prison, pack your shit, ask one of your buddies if you can stay with them for a few days, and take the tapes with you. hide them.”

jake made a face. “what are you talking about?”

sunghoon sighed. “we can’t get away with this one, son. her car’s parked outside. there’s too many loose ends.”

“we can get rid of the car. you don’t have to go to jail!” jake shouted.

“it’s either you or me. frankly, i’m doing you a favor. you wouldn’t last two seconds behind bars,” sunghoon hissed. he grabbed another glass, sliding it across the counter, then said, “now, wine? you know, to celebrate your old man going away? i believe that’s what you want.”

jake shook his head. never in his life had he been so conflicted. his father that he’d been so bent on despising until he the day he died was voluntarily confessing to a crime he didn’t commit, just so that his son wouldn’t have to suffer in prison.

“why are you doing this?” jake asked, bristling with emotion. 

sunghoon sighed. “because i love you, son. even if you don’t think so. and because your mother would be turning in her grave if she knew you were in prison.”

jake blew out a breath. then, after a moment of reluctance, he grabbed the glass on the counter and reached for the wine bottle. 

sunghoon snickered. “atta boy.”

“i wonder how your son reacted when he learned you were going to prison for murder,” you said, pondering. “you live in the same house. i wonder how he didn’t know.”

sunghoon lied, “he was at a friend’s house when i killed her. doesn’t like that it was his favorite professor.”

you nodded along, buying his lies. “that is a lot to take in. i mean, imagine your dad was having an affair with your favorite science professor. then, he kills her, like how he killed your mom.”

sunghoon shrugged his shoulders. “have you never heard the phrase ‘the heart wants what it wants?’”

“i have,” you replied. “and i guess your heart wanted to stop the function of others.”

sunghoon laughed at his own expense. “oh, please. you give me too much credit. you shouldn’t make me out to be more romantic than i am.”

you shook your head in disappointment. “you make these women want you, and then you undo everything. that has to be part of the amusement to you.”

“it gets a chuckle or two out of me.”

your lips were tempted to curl into a frown for the umpteenth time that day alone. “why?”

sunghoon leaned up in his chair, exclaiming, “because it’s fun!”

you were going to say something, but he didn’t give you the chance. 

sunghoon continued, “everyday, as adults, we do the same job for hours and come home. people want excitement in their lives. women get exhausted of coming home to their husbands or nobody at all.”

your stare was blank. “and your point is?”

“i didn’t just make those women want me, baby. i made them need me,” sunghoon told you smugly. “i brought a spark to their lives, and i took it away just as fast. and i do it… because i can.”

“because you could,” you corrected, confident he would never be free of this place for as long as he lived. “you’re going to be in here a very, very long time.”

sunghoon grinned. “i wouldn’t be so sure.”

you cocked your brow. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“wouldn’t you like to know?” sunghoon teased. you hated the smugness in his tone. like he knew something that you didn’t.

the door opened, and the guard from earlier returned. “i hate to interrupt, but it’s time for the count,” he said, coming behind sunghoon to undo his cuffs.

it all happened in a blink. sunghoon’s weight was pressed flush against yours, roughly thrusting you into the table. your body screamed, agony spreading through your side, but your gun was in a lockbox outside the room.

sunghoon knew from your conversations alone that you weren’t the type to go quietly. your first instinct was to fight back. naturally, you struggled against his hold, refusing to bend to his will even as panic shot through your chest. your whole body was on guard, aiming for survival.

but to your misfortune, your might was no match for sunghoon’s. you glanced to the guard for assistance, but when he only stood there as if he was waiting for it to end, the most unsettling feeling of realization washed over you.

“don’t fight him,” the guard said, arms crossed. “you won’t win.”

sunghoon snickered when he noticed your eyes widen in shock. you hadn’t seen that coming. though you tried to resist, it was over once his slender fingers came to your throat, and you genuinely feared for your life. 

you didn’t realize how good you had it just being able to breathe until you couldn’t anymore. your breaths wouldn’t come. it felt as if your bones were being crushed. your whole body was on fight mode, but it was like sunghoon had the reins, shutting down your senses one by one.

“you put up a good fight, detective,” sunghoon whispered darkly in your ear, admiring your struggle.

your lips parted, but you couldn’t speak no matter how hard you tried. your self-preservation instincts were no match against him. all you could do was meet sunghoon’s stare. the pressure on your neck was too much to handle, and in seconds, you were out.

“lights out,” sunghoon said. he released your throat, having no intention of killing you and leading you for dead, but knowing that you would likely regain consciousness in a matter of seconds, he grabbed you by the hair, smashing your head flat against the table to subdue you.

heeseung winced, but he did nothing to step in. “poor girl,” he mumbled under his breath, pitying you. “had enough?”

“for now,” sunghoon replied. “let’s go.”

heeseung gave sunghoon a uniform to wear so that he would blend in amongst the uniforms like heeseung had and when he was ready, the two of them fled before they could be deterred.

when they had successfully gotten away, heeseung asked with his hand on a steering wheel, “you know that i don’t agree with this, right?”

sunghoon snickered. it had absolutely been said. “you haven’t agreed with my lifestyle for the past twenty-five years, yet you still help me. why?”

heeseung frowned. sometimes, he asked himself the same question, but deep down inside, he knew the answer. “because we may not share blood, but we’re brothers,” heeseung replied. “and for my brother, i’ll do anything you need.”

sunghoon quipped, “like smuggle me across the border?”

“like smuggle you across the border,” heeseung said, chuckling. “when we get there, there’s gonna be this dude named sunoo. he’s gonna help you out. i’ll be in touch.”

sunghoon nodded. “i can’t thank you enough, man.”

“just lay low and stay out of trouble,” heeseung said, shaking his head. 

sunghoon grinned with mischief. he was already thinking about all of the beautiful women he couldn’t wait to get his hands on. “no promises,” he answered, sighing contentedly.

taglist: @ribbioniki, @yunakj, @vvenusoncasual, @lovingvoidgoatee, @iloveu-143, @bigwforjay, @hooniehon, @adoredbyjay, @cloud-lyy, @firstclassjaylee, @captainsaposts, @tinycatharsis, @511rkive , @sangiewife

[obsesssedblerd]

Birthday Wishes

Synopsis: You, your kids, and all of your friends and colleagues work together to give your husband, Satoru, the best birthday ever. 

Pairing: husband! Gojo x f! reader

Contains: Teeth-rotting fluff, comfort, angst but i promise it’s brief, canon divergence, reader and gojo are married and they adopted the first years, reader and gojo also have a baby together, the students being students, yuuji planning a party, everyone is happy bc i freaking said so. 

wc: 3.2k

a/n: happy birthday satoru <3 you’re so loved.

likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated <3 (also, if you want to read the first part where they adopt the first years, it’s here!)

barely proofread, sorry for mistakes.

— — — — — 

The first time Satoru felt bothered about birthdays was when he was seven, and he was walking around the city on his own so he wouldn’t have to deal with his annoying trainers. He passed by a park, and he saw a family singing happy birthday to a young boy. He was surrounded by his family and friends, who all looked happy to be there with him. There were presents, a cake that everyone shared, and decorations that the boy loved.

The sight made his heart pinch slightly, and he began imagining how his birthday party would look if the world was perfect and far kinder to him. As he grew older, that pinch on his heart turned into a tight squeeze, an ache that intensified with every minuscule reminder that he truly was alone in this world, no matter what people told him. 

Even though he attempted to shove the idea of birthday parties, celebrations with friends, and a family to hug him tight on his special day to the back of his head so it wouldn’t hurt as much, every year on December 7th, he found himself making a birthday wish when it was late and everyone else was asleep.

I wish I could make friends; when he turned eight. 

I wish I could have a party; when he turned eleven. 

I wish I could have a normal day for once; when he turned fifteen. 

I wish I could stop having nightmares about Toji; when he turned eighteen. 

I wish Suguru would come back; when he turned twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, and twenty-three. 

It was fine. He was the strongest. He shouldn’t feel that way about a birthday. They were stupid and beneath him anyway, right? He’s not like everyone else, even though there was a tiny sliver of something heartbroken within him, constantly screaming about how badly he wanted to be like everyone else. 

–

“Satoru.” 

The nightmare has the same scene as the others. The crowded street in Shinjuku, Satoru’s heavy breathing as he’s desperately blinking back tears, and Suguru, dressed in black, slowly turning around so his back was facing him. 

God, no. Not again. 

“Satoru.” Suguru’s tone is dismissive, and Satoru’s feet are glued to his spot on the sidewalk. He can’t follow him where he’s going. He never could. All he could do is watch as his best friend walks away, leaving him and the friendship they had behind. 

No. Please. 

He knows how this ends, but it still hurts. Around him, the people and buildings start to darken, and the light fades with every step Suguru takes away from him until he’s alone in pitch black. Soon, there’s nothing but a sickening, shadowy silence. 

– 

“Satoru.” 

The voice that calls his name isn’t Suguru’s from the nightmare. It’s soft, feminine, patient, and so full of love. You. He feels fingers tenderly brush against his cheek, and he stirs in his sleep with a small groan. 

“Baby,” you call him again. “It's time to wake up.” 

Satoru’s eyes flicker open, and he’s met with your smiling face. He looks around the large bedroom that you two share, remembers that life is so, so much different now, and exhales in relief. He sits up in the bed, and he looks over at the digital clock on the nightstand. “Oh, wow, it’s past noon?” 

“Well, yeah,” you say with a small, quiet laugh. “We all thought you should sleep in today.” Your hand finds his cheek again, and you lean in so you can kiss his forehead. “Happy birthday, Toru. I love you so much.” 

“Oh?” He looks at the clock again to check the date. Sure enough, it’s December 7th. 

However, the ache that he’s felt for most of his life wasn’t there. Since falling in love with you, it’s been replaced with a comforting, gentle warmth. For the last few years, he’s actually looked forward to his birthday, because it meant another year and more experiences with you and the family you two made together. More time, more love.

He smiles up at you and hugs you close to him so he can rest his head on your tummy, allowing you to rake your fingers through his snow-colored hair, which was messy from sleeping all morning. “Thank you, pretty girl. I love you, too.” 

Once he’s done brushing his teeth and washing his face, you appear in the bathroom door again. An adorable, yet frustrated whine from your side makes him look down, and you laugh, shifting your baby so she’s in front of you instead of resting on your hip. “Someone is a little upset that she didn’t get her morning cuddles from Daddy.”

Satoru chuckles at that, and he takes his daughter from you right as she starts reaching for him, her blue eyes light with adoration and excitement. “Aw, ‘m sorry, princess. I was sleepy.” He rains kisses on her chubby cheeks until she bursts with giggles, and Satoru can’t help but grin, gently stroking the girl’s hair—colored exactly like yours except for a few white strands. “How has your morning been, Riko? Hope you’ve been good to Mommy.” 

“She was whining for a while because she didn’t know where you were, but other than that, she was great.” 

He carries Riko and follows you out of your bedroom. Like every time he’s in the hallway, Satoru finds his favorite picture hanging on the wall. It was from the evening when Riko was born. Kento was kind enough to take a picture of you and Satoru holding her. The three teenagers you adopted, Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara, were surrounding the bed with teary eyes and happy smiles. 

Speaking of. 

“Hey, the house is as quiet as the day we moved in,” Satoru says. “Where’s our other three kids?” 

“Hm? Oh, they’re taking care of some things at the school right now,” you reply once you reach the living room where the first of many gift bags rested on the couch. You lift it up for him to see, and Satoru gasps excitedly. “Oooh, a present?!” 

“Duh, silly. It’s your birthday.” You trade him the present for Riko, and you point towards the notecard that was taped on the gift. “That’s a clue. When you’re done opening that, get dressed. You’re going to be going on a little scavenger hunt for the rest of your gifts.” 

“Oooh, interesting. Can I teleport?” 

You frown, and Riko cosigns with an adorable pout and whine. “Absolutely not. That takes the fun out of it.” 

Satoru scoffs with a roll of his eyes, but his smile doesn’t fade. He starts opening the present, and you sneakily open your messages to text one of your sons. 

You: We’re about to leave the house. It’s 1pm right now. Do you think you guys can be done by four? I’ll do everything I can to stall him.

Yuuji: 100%. We got this! :)

— — — 

“Alright, everyone!” Yuuji calls out to the rest of the group. “Mom just left the house with Dad. We only have about three hours to get everything there and set up! Everyone ready?” 

“All ready,” Yuuta replies as he places three more bags full of party supplies in the back of Kento’s car. “Ino is with Kugisaki and Inumaki right now. They’re at the bakery grabbing the cake.” 

“I bet you lunch tomorrow that someone here is eventually going to drop the cake.” Yuki chortles.

Maki snickers as she loads a box into the trunk, using her free hand to ruffle Yuuta’s hair when she passes him. “I agree with her. There’s always some type of tragedy when setting up surprise birthday parties.” 

“Ladies, please. Let’s not speak that into existence,” Choso says. “I heard that [Y/N] spent quite a bit of money on that cake.” 

Next to Yuuji, Megumi taps his shoulder to get his attention. “Do you think he used his Six Eyes to see the presents we hid in the library?” 

“Well, Mom said he woke up a bit late. He had to get ready before starting the scavenger hunt she set up, plus Riko’s an adorable distraction, so I doubt it.” 

Megumi nods, then peeks at his phone. “Okay, got Mom’s location. They’re about thirty minutes away from home. Now’s our chance.” 

“I’ll have Ichiji meet the students at the bakery once they’re ready,” Kento Nanami says, pulling his jacket on to fight the December chill. “I would hate for them to have to catch the subway back.” 

–

“Holy crap.” Takuma Ino’s surprised voice echoes throughout the living room where everyone else is setting up for the party. “This is where you guys live now? This place is huge!” 

“Yup!” Nobara answers as she takes off her shoes and places them next to the others near the door. “Amazing, right? I truly had no idea how much money Dad had until I saw this place. There’s rich, and then there’s stupid rich.” 

Megumi pauses filling up a balloon and turns towards her with a small, amused smile. “I thought you learned that when you spilled something on one of his shirts and nearly fainted when I told you how much it cost.” 

At the memory, Yuuji snickers. “Then we tried to shove it in your shirt to hide it.” 

Megumi rolls his eyes. “Like the idiots you two are.” 

“If anyone is used to how much Gojo likes to spend on clothes, it’s definitely Megumi,” Maki says as she tapes a blue tablecloth down on the table. 

“Yeah, he’s known him the longest. Has Gojo-sensei always lived here?” Yuuta asks. “I never heard him talk about a house this size.”

Megumi shakes his head. “He had no intention of living here. This place was a gift from the Gojo clan. He showed me once when I was nine, then never brought it up again. He had a small place near the school he stayed at.” 

“Then he fell in love?” Yuki asks with an excited grin. 

“Then he fell in love,” Ieiri Shoko replies. She smiles as she points at the portrait of you and Satoru on your wedding day hanging on the wall. “Moved here, adopted those three, then [Y/N] had Riko.” 

“Speaking of Riko, why couldn’t she be here?” Nobara asks with a small whine. “I was hoping to hold my baby sister while you all set up for the party.” 

Panda scoffs. “You could help, y’know.” 

“I did help! I went to go get the cake! Right, Toge?” 

Toge, who was helping Yuuta with some decorations, nods with a thumbs-up. “Salmon.” 

“Alright, guys, the table for the presents is all set up,” Maki says. “Leave your gifts here.” 

“I’ll go grab ours from the library!” Yuuji announces, then taps his older brother on the shoulder. “Could you give me a hand? There’s quite a few.” 

“Of course.” 

Choso follows Yuuji to the sunroom that you and Satoru turned into your at-home library. He finds the presents stashed in the corner behind one of the bookshelves, and starts to lift a few of them. 

“Wow,” Choso breathes out. “This is a lot of books.” 

“Yeah, Mom reads a lot. Her and Megumi spend a lot of time here,” Yuuji replies.

Choso helps by grabbing a stack of presents, and smiles at his words. “I’m glad to see how happy and comfortable you are here. All three of you.” 

“I still can’t believe it. Like, a part of me still thinks that this is a dream and I’m going to wake up back in the dorms, still attached to Sukuna.” 

When Choso’s smile falters, Yuuji changes the subject. “You should come over more often. I know you and Yuki are incredibly busy, but I still want to teach you how to play video games.” 

“I’ll make time. And I—” 

“OH, NO!!!” 

The loud chorus of fearful gasps and screams make Yuuji and Choso drop what’s in their arms, and they sprint down the long halls back to the living room. “What is it?!” Yuuji exclaims. 

Toge turns around with a gulp, then shakily points towards the ground. “Mustard leaf,” he whispers. Yuuji looks to where he’s pointing, then gasps in horror, nausea swimming in his gut.  

The cake is splattered across the floor. 

Ieiri releases a loud sigh to break the silence, and she drags her hand down her face. “And there’s our tragedy.” 

Megumi shakes his head. “I blame Maki and Yuki for speaking it into existence.”

“Well I blame Takuma for dropping the damn thing,” Maki snaps back.

“I said I was sorry!!” Takuma shouts, looking as nauseous as Yuuji felt.

“Oh, no. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no!” Yuuji’s heart pounds, and he yanks his phone out of his pocket to check the time. They only have about forty more minutes if they want to be done on time. What now? How can I fix this? 

“Okay, no one panic. That won’t get us anywhere.” Kento says. “First things first, let’s get this cleaned up. Itadori, call [Y/N] and let her know what happened.” 

“Yeah, he’s right. Besides, this isn’t the first time we had a cake dropped on someone’s birthday, remember?” Yuuta gently pats his shoulder. “It’ll be alright. We’ll clean up.”

Right, he needs to call you. As everyone else either helps clean the mess or continues setting up, Yuuji steps outside where it’s quieter. He waits for a couple of seconds, then presses the green button near your contact to call you. 

“Hey Yuuji, is everything alright?” You softly ask him once the line connects. 

He swallows hard. “Hi. Uh- Yeah, things are fine. How’s Dad doing?” 

“He’s currently showing Riko around the butterfly garden where we confessed that we loved each other for the first time. He’s having way more fun on this hunt than I anticipated. We might be about twenty minutes late. I figured it wouldn’t be too much of a problem, just in case you all needed more time.” 

“Well…” He mutters sadly. “We messed up the cake. I don’t know what to do. I can’t imagine throwing a birthday party and not having a cake.” 

“It’s okay. Are Yaga and Utahime there yet?” 

“No. They mentioned that they’d have to work late so they wouldn’t be able to help set up. They’ll be at the party, though.” 

“Good. Have either Kento or Ieiri call and ask them to stop by the bakery closer to our house. Yaga will know exactly what to get, okay?” 

The knot in Yuuji’s chest eases. “You had a back-up plan.”

You laugh at that. “If being a sorcerer and being in love with the one and only Satoru Gojo has taught me anything, it’s to always have a plan B, and sometimes a plan C. Everything’s going to be alright. I promise.” 

“I’m really sorry about the cake. I know you spent a lot on that. Gosh, I just really wanted everything to be perfect, and—” 

“Yuuji,” you sigh. “It will be perfect. He’ll be so excited that you even came up with this plan and brought everyone together for it. You tried your best, and no one got hurt. That’s more than enough. Yaga is going to pick up Satoru’s favorite treat, and we’ll put his candles with that. All of the guests will have the cake he brings. Don’t beat yourself up.” 

“Thanks, Mom.” 

“Of course, honey. Chin up, okay? Finish strong. I’m so proud of you for planning all of this. It wasn’t easy, but you did it. I’ll see you all soon.” 

“See you soon.” When Yuuji hangs up the phone, he’s overcome with a burst of determination. Finish strong. I can do this. He walks back into the house with his head held high.

– – – 

“Satoru, did you really have to buy her so many butterfly clips for her hair?” You ask as you hold up the souvenir bag from the butterfly garden. “Riko’s going to be wearing these for the rest of her life.” 

“Of course I did. Look how cute they are in her hair!” He lowers his head so he can talk to Riko, who’s safe in your arms. “Right, princess? Of course you need sixty butterfly clips. I would’ve gotten you a million of them if I could.” When the baby giggles in response, he kisses the top of her head. 

In his hands are all of the gifts he’s received throughout the day. Clothes, accessories, cologne, a new watch, and a detailed birthday card and love letter from you. Satoru spent the whole afternoon smiling that you’re certain that his face will be sore tomorrow morning. 

“This was so much fun, pretty girl,” he tells you as you approach the front door of the house. “Thank you. I’m so grateful for you.” He begins unlocking the door, and you struggle to contain your excited grin. This is it. 

“Still wondering what’s going on with Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara,” Satoru mumbles as he opens the door and switches on the light. “I really hope they didn’t take a mission today—” 

“SURPRISE!!!” 

Satoru stops in his tracks, and the shock is so great that he lifts his blindfold to take all of it in. His colleagues, his students, and his three teenagers are all here in the living, wearing blue party hats and using noise blowers. There’s balloons, a banner that reads, Happy birthday, Satoru, and a table full of presents and cakes. 

He looks over at you with wide eyes, then back at everyone else in the room. “A party?” He whispers. “Did you plan this?” 

You shake your head. “Actually, he did,” you say as you point at Yuuji, who was standing in the front with Nobara and Megumi. “I planned your scavenger hunt, and he planned your party.” 

“I hope you like it,” Yuuji says as he steps forward with his dessert, neatly topped with a few lit candles. “Happy birthday. Thanks for being so incredible. From stopping my execution all the way to adopting me, you really changed my life. You changed all of our lives.” 

Your heart swells at the scene, and the crowd ‘aww’s. Yuuji does a small countdown, and everyone starts singing happy birthday to him. Satoru thinks back to the child he was; how he watched from a distance as that boy in the park was surrounded by love, and how he yearned to be in his spot. Now, he is. 

Once they’re finished singing, Satoru reaches forward and hugs Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara all at once. “Thank you,” he whispers to them. “You all changed my life, too.” When he pulls away, he looks down at the still-lit candles, then glances at you. 

“Go on, love,” you tell him quietly, wiping away the happy tears that formed in the corner of your eyes. “Make a wish.” 

Satoru thinks about his past again, and how he spent all of his birthdays wishing to be somewhere else, something else, someone else. But as he looks at you and the daughter you blessed him with, the three kids he would choose in every lifetime, the students he cared so much about, and his colleagues from Jujutsu Tech that all came here for him, he desperately wanted to stay himself and stay where he is.

I wish for another safe year, full of love, he thinks to himself, then blows out the candles.

[melancholicstation]

BEAT POETRY ON AMPHETAMINES - a collection of situationship!jfk headcanon's

takes you on "dates" which are in reality him taking you to a matinée showing of an erotic nineteen twenties film that ends in you guys risking a public indecency charge on both your records between the theatre seats

does the equivalent of a "you up?" text by randomly showing up at your parents home and telling them that he's going to take you out on a twilight boat ride across the cape

the night definitely doesn't end with you guys wandering out way top far on the water simply because other things caught your attention...

jfk going to mass because situationship!reader won't answer his letter and/or calls cause she saw something in the newspaper about him and another socialite:

situationship!reader being embarrassingly down bad and commissioning a one of one bespoke tie for jack as a birthday present embroidered with a message like this

always makes incredibly crude and dirty comments whenever you have to make jello for a summer society event or sorority meet, however there's a sick sense of accomplishment that you feel knowing that jack sticks around to watch you do the mundane stuff, rather than simply leaving you after he's had his way like he does with the other girls.... (i'm sorry in order to be in a situationship with jack and not rip your hair out you would have to harbour a pick me/not like other girls complex inside you... i don't make the rules, i just timidly enforce them!)

also the jello moulds would be by gelée (yes, i know the brand wasn't around in 1950s my fanfics exist in a liminal space without the actual laws of time) cause they are my favourite for crafting a 1950s confectionary feel in the modern age (and they have free shipping! hallelujah!) and the jack's favourite flavour would be pĩna coco... don't play with me right now

would actually wow you with his morning after breakfast cooking skills (on his good back days) and would work within the confines of your very limited pantry in your one bedroom apartment...

and then he would return to the bedroom where he left you, wrapped up in a white poplin sheet, with a cobbled together jelly and tahini brioche on a plate to share with one fork for the two of you

at like 4am once you guys had done what you do for most of the little time you get to spend with each other, he'd try his hand at being vulnerable mostly about his chronic illness and back pain...

i'm thinking specifically something akin to how he would write to igna arvad about his outlook on pain as a constant plague on his enjoyment of all the things that life could offer a man as wonderful as he "if i had lived to be a hundred, i could only have improved the quantity of my life, not the quality" but it would be more conversational when in person. because a man like jack doesn't strike me as overly eager to trauma dump, yet also reads as very emotionally intelligent in parts

he always gets letters sent on hotel stationary whenever you stay at the chataeu marmont like this:

after fifty years and once you two have both passed i just know people wander across photos of you two together on pinterest and are like who is that girl with the thirty-first president of the united states?? and why have we never heard of her.

and you two are always serving cunt prince and princess of the people in the photos:

he would write rambling letters to you when he was a little drunk if he caught a glimpse of you at a partying entertaining or simply talking to a man in the manner you once talked to him in (despite making no moves to make your relationship offical or monogamous in any fashion) and then apologise later on in person with a kicked labrador expression or right his wrongs in a follow up letter

you're granted visitations rights to visit his room while he's recovering from 2nd back surgery and you bring bread and broth (due to the strict clinical diet he's been placed under) along with a hand written steve harrison quote "the virtue of soup and bread in a clay pot prepares the body and mind for what is to come" that you use push pins to affix on his hospital room wall

alongside that selection, you begrudgingly bring some adult magazines because he hasn't stopped whining that there was nothing to do all damn day

you guys keep a small pseudo capsule closet in each others drawers. for him: there's a small collection of parisotto cotton shirts in blue, black and navy. for you: there's a pair of linen pyjamas, a biella cashmere jacket and pleat skirt set, and an oversized coat

jack would 100% smell like a mix of abercrombie and fitch fierce cologne and the deauville lotion from chanel

you'd handed him a mother of pearl spoon with some osetrra caviar in a little gift box for christmas...

which then led to jack eating caviar of various parts of your body quietly trying not to wake up those who were still up for the night...

[sturniozo]

Dead Moon

Vampire! Chris x Reader au

Not Proof-read

Hey guys! I know I have two works in progress already, but it's that time of year where my autistic ass binges twilight 300 times in a month and I've been in love with the idea of Vampire Chris. So, tell me whether or not you guys like this and if I should continue this or scrap it! I'm trying to make it seem twilighty, but also be its own thing. So, some background. The vampire lore will be very very very similar to twilights in many aspects. I wanted them to be older than in twilight so I could include smut because let's face it, we're all horny sluts and would go crazy for Vampire Chris.

Enjoy my loves! Please give me your thoughts and feedback!

Part one

I never gave much thought into how I’d die. I always assumed it would be something normal, and far into my future. A car crash, cancer, old age. Surely not during my college years, and not by my own choice. 

August twenty third was my last day at home, living with my family. My mother helped me move the last of my boxes into my car, crying and hugging me goodbye. I was leaving for college, one that was a few states away. I loved home. I loved the smell of the wet grass and the sun that always shined. I’d miss Cali. 

I was moving to a state where the weather is always gloomy and terrible. No, not Alaska, but Maine. Gloomy and rainy, my least favorite weather. But I was accepted into the University of Maine on a full scholarship. I’d be able to study anthropology without putting my mother out of any money. She struggles enough, being a single mother with three kids. 

My two younger siblings, Carl and Rachel, are twins. They’re five years younger than me and spoiled in their own ways. Carl never listens to anything anyone says and just does whatever he pleases with no repercussions. The only tragedy he faces is his decline in grades. He’s a straight D student. And don’t get me started on Rachel. She’s a liar and a thief, and the reason I’m so happy to move across the country. I had to put a lock on my bedroom door to keep her out and stop her from stealing my things. 

I never bothered my mother with their antics, she has her plate full enough. With a full time and part time job, barely being home, she can just barely pay the bills in the house my father had left us with, one that put my mother in debt as he left as they were still paying off the loan. I got my own job, so I was able to afford things for school, like a prom dress or maybe just splurge on some makeup. I was able to buy my own car the year prior to my leaving. 

I hugged my mother tightly after we had finished loading all my things into my car. “I’ll call as soon as I get there.” I told her. 

“Maine has terrible weather,” My mother stated. “What if the plane can’t land and-.”

“Mom.” I cut her off. “I’ll be fine.” I hugged her tightly once more before turning to my siblings. Despite their faults, I still love my siblings. It’s not fully their fault, they were only 15 at this time. They were even younger when our father walked out. Almost too young to remember him at all. Our mother has been working overtime for the past five years, ever since the bank had sent a letter saying if she doesn't keep up with the agreed upon amount for the payments, they’ll foreclose the house. So my siblings haven’t gotten to have much of a relationship with either of our parents. 

“Come here shit heads.” I said to them and motioned them to come over and hug me. My brother doesn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around me tightly. 

“I can’t wait to have my own room.” Rachel said as I hugged our brother. 

“Can you at least wait until I’m gone before you make plans to take over my room.”  laugh as Carl lets go of the hug. 

“I’m sorry but I’m 15 and still sharing a room with my twin brother. I’ve been waiting for this since you got a job two years ago. I was hoping you’d move away sooner.”

”Wow. Okay, well you don’t get a hug then.” I mumble as I turn away from her. I always wished for a good relationship with her. But she turned out to be just like all the girls in high school I tried so hard to stay away from. But nonetheless, I love her. And I know somewhere in that black lump of coal she insists is her heart of gold, I know she loves me too.

“Y/n, wait.” Rachel said. I turned around to see her with her head turned away from me, but her arms were held out to embrace me. 

I hugged her tightly. “I’ll miss you so much.” I mumbled to her. 

“I guess I’ll miss you too.” She huffed in response. 

I let go of the hug. I stepped back and looked over my family one last time before I left for college. I got into my car, buckled up my seatbelt, and started off for the airport, my family waving me goodbye in the rear view mirror. 

The plane ride was tiring. I tried to sleep so I’d have energy to unpack at my new apartment, but it was difficult. I had always had difficulty sleeping. Most nights I would have been lucky to get four or five hours of sleep. 

I left the baggage area with all my belongings, thanking god that nothing was lost. I only had a few bags, as I didn’t own much. Of course, then I had to go find my car at a moving lot within the next few days. So, it was all uber and taxis from here. 

It was over an hour ride from the airport to my new apartment. Well, it wasn’t quite an apartment. It was a house, one that me and three other students had to share. Four bedrooms, each with their own bathroom and closet, built specifically for students. Almost a dorm, but believe it or not, more affordable. Especially since three others would help pay rent. 

I got out of the uber, where I met the landlord of the house. He held a clipboard and envelope, standing at the front door talking with who I assume must have been another student. 

From what I had known, I would have been sharing the house with two other girls and one guy. The guy was called Alexander, but he preferred to be called Xan. He essentially had the entire basement of the house to himself. It had one bedroom, a bathroom, its own living space and sliding glass door at the back of the house, where the ground had indented down hill. But it was also where we would all do our laundry, so it wasn’t entirely private. 

The main floor had one bedroom and bathroom as well, along with the kitchen, dining, and main living area. That space was taken by one of the girls, Maya. She was kind, supportive, and for some reason terrified of stairs. 

Then there was the second floor. That’s where Natalie and I had our rooms. And that’s all that was up there. Two bedrooms and two bathrooms. 

The house was on a street of many like it, each housing students from the University of Maine. And each of them, as I at the time rightfully assumed, was owned by the same man and his sons. 

The owner stood at the entrance. I made my way to him to greet him. “Hello. I’m Y/n.” I said to him, holding my hand out for him to shake. 

He looked over his clipboard before nodding, and handed me a key. “This is your only key, don’t lose it, and don’t ask for another one to give away. Keys are for residents only.” He told me, not even looking up from his clipboard. I grabbed the key, and felt his cold fingers. So cold they made me shiver. Does the heat not work in this place? It’s still August and it shouldn’t have been this cold. 

And it wasn’t. It was warm out that day. So warm I didn’t question why he was standing in the shade. He was so pale, another thing I didn’t question. We were in Maine, one of the gloomiest states in the country. This was probably the one nice day I’d ever see in my whole four years I was going to spend there. 

“I see you have already gotten a job here in maine?” He said to me, “Not an on site school job then like a dishwasher or librarian?”

I shook my head. “No,” I said, “I’ll be working as a waitress at a Cafe not far from the school.” 

He shrugged me off, and looked back at his clipboard. “As long as rent is due on time and you’re still attending school, that's all I care about.” He said. 

I nodded, gripping onto my bags as I began to walk into the house. 

“Your room is on the second floor, the one on the right. You’ll have a nice sized closet and your own bathroom.” He said. “One of your house mates is already here, Maya. She might help you settle in.” The landlord turned to me as I held my bags in my hands. “My name is Jimmy, and if you have any concerns or questions feel free to contact me, or my sons Chris, Matt, or Nick by these numbers. We’ll get back to you by the next day.” He said as he handed me a slip of paper. “They will also be staying in a house down the street, they all attend the University of Maine as well.” Jimmy explained.

I nodded in response, and put the numbers in my pocket to make a mental note to put them in my phone later. “So is this a family business then?” I asked.

Jimmy lifted his head to look at me. He smiled softly, almost a smirk. “You could say our family has been providing homes to students for hundreds of years.”

My eyes widened in surprise. Hundreds of years? What housing could they have provided at the start? I shook my head and walked into the house. It was best not to dwell on the tiny details right now. I needed to get settled in. The next day I would start my new job, one that I thankfully got over an online interview. 

I was a waitress at a very popular restaurant in Cali. My old boss had helped me get this job, as he had let me put him down as a reference on my application. 

It didn’t take long for me to settle in. I walked up to my bedroom, opened the door on the right, and was greeted with a bland room, with only a bed with no bedsheets, and an ikea bed frame and dresser. Honestly, I was thankful for those furnishings, since I hadn’t brought my own. 

I placed my bags on my bed, and sat next to them. I kicked my shoes off and started to root through my suitcase full of my clothes. 

My clothes and shoes took up two suitcases and a bookbag, my makeup in a small makeup case the size of a hefty purse, and my essentials such as deodorant and a toothbrush and hairbrush and other things were in a smaller bag. Then there was my school things that were all in my computer bag. No, I didn’t have much. I took everything from home and brought it here, and well, the things I didn’t bring, now belong to my sister Rachel.

I unpacked my clothes and shoes, putting them away in the closet and dresser. Both were less than half full when I had finished. I had put my computer on the dresser, trying to make it into a make-shift desk. I’d get one of those later, once I had made some money. I set my makeup case on the dresser as well, and put all my essentials in the bathroom. 

I started to make a mental list of things I would need. Towels, wash-rags, mirror, desk, chair. The last thing I pulled out of my bag were my bedsheets. I made my bed up, finished unpacking. I had put my suitcases under the bed after. 

I checked the time on my phone. It only took me half an hour to finish this. I left my room to make my way downstairs, hoping to meet some of my house mates. 

Instead I’m met with a taller man, one I know could not be Xan as we had all made a group chat prior to moving in, to get to know each other and sort out who’s room will be who’s, and house rules. Within getting to know Xan, I knew that he was far, far, too short to be this man. Xan was 5’4. He had express his wish for us not to tease him when we all finally met.

This man wasn’t the tallest, but certainly taller than Xan. He was helping one of the house mates, one who I later learned was Maya, bring her things in. The man had dark colored hair, like a brunette, but in a way that you could tell he was blonde at a younger age, and his hair had just gotten darker with age. He didn’t look too much older than me either. Maybe just a year or two? 

He was holding Maya’s boxed dresser like it was nothing, carrying it to her room. He didn’t look like he had the muscle to carry it with such little ease, but he did. 

He wore a red jacket over a black shirt, and loose fitting black jeans. Such warm clothes for the weather we’re having. I thought it was odd at the time, but didn’t question it. I knew people in high school that wore the same hoodie everyday to school, no matter the weather. 

He passed me as I stood on the steps of the stairs, locking eyes with me. He had dark piercing blue eyes, and pale skin surrounding them. His eyes looked sunken, like he’d never slept in his life but still was refreshed for the day somehow. 

His face contorted into a grimace when he passed me. Was I really that repulsive to him? He turned his head away from me as he continued to help Maya bring her things into her room. 

Maya was more prepared than I was. Or at least she had more things. She did bring a desk and towels and a mirror and her own dresser and bed frame. She came fully prepared to the house. 

The more the day grew on the more I realized I was the least prepared person of the house mates. Xan had already set up before I had even got here. He was just in the basement doing his own thing and ignoring everybody, which I would soon learn is normal behavior for him. Natalie settled in last, but just after Maya had finished bringing all of her things in. The man had left after helping Natalie, not saying a word to me the whole time, as if he was avoiding me completely on purpose. 

It didn’t take long for me to realize that he was one of Jimmy’s sons. I didn’t know which one just yet, but after I saw him get into a car with Jimmy after helping Natalie settle in, it clicked in my brain. 

Jimmy had said his sons were living in a house down the street, and that they attend the college as well. I wondered if I’d see this guy again, whether in school or sometime else, and if he’d always avoid me like that.

Maya came running up to me as I walked down the stairs to make my way into the kitchen. “Y/n, right?” She said. 

“Yeah, that’s my name.” I muttered back in response. She followed me as I went into the kitchen for a snack. 

“How do you feel about a block party?” She asked me. “The whole block is throwing a party for the week before school starts.” She stated.

“The whole week?” I asked. 

“Well, the whole week nights. All the houses are open doors and I wondered if you would be okay with our house being involved?” She looked at me with puppy eyes. 

I opened the fridge door and pulled out my bologna lunchable. I loved those snack lunches, when I still could eat food. “What did Natalie and Xan say?” I asked.

“Nat’s all in, she loves a party.” Maya exclaimed happily. “And Xan’s fine with it as long as the basement door is locked and no one disturbs him.” She looked down with a slight smile. I should have guessed then that Maya had a small crush on Xan, but at that time I was too wrapped up in myself to notice anything significant. 

“Okay, I’m in.” I said. 

Maya looked up with bright eyes. “Really?” She smiled big.

“Only if I can have the same rule as Xan.” I said. “I’ll lock my bedroom door and not be disturbed.” I crossed my arms, lunchable still in hand. 

Maya’s smile faltered slightly, but she still seemed happy and content with my answer. “Okay, deal!” She said with a smile. She left the kitchen, meeting Natalie in the living room, and told her the ‘good news.’ They both squealed in excitement and started planning decorations and themes. 

I took a deep breath and made my way back up the stairs and to my bedroom. Night parties for a whole week before school starts. I always hated parties. I never had close enough friends to go to them with. Even at high school events and dances I didn’t attend, I hated the thought of everyone seeing me in my loneliness. 

I sat on my bed and started on my lunchable. I opened my computer to put on a show to watch while I ate my snack. 

Hours passed, the sun had gone down. I was laying on my bed half asleep, trying to pay attention to my show but failing. I had almost drifted off to sleep when I heard footsteps and voices and music begin downstairs. I guess the party had started already. Figures, the one time I might sleep I get interrupted. 

I sat up in my bed, continuing on with my show. I made it through two episodes before feeling the need to stretch my legs. It wasn’t too late at night, only around eleven. I walked over to my window to give my legs a little bit of exercise, and looked upon the street. 

My eyes got caught in the stare of the man that helped Maya earlier today. He was standing on the street with a cup in hand, along with two guys that looked very, very similar to him. I was right to assume that those were his brothers. 

It didn’t surprise me that they would attend these block parties, with their family owning the houses on the block. It did startle me that as soon as I looked out my window, he was already looking at me. 

I felt a chill go down my spine. My hair stood on end as my lip quivered. The man’s brothers paid no attention to me, conversing with each other and presumably with the man who paid little to no attention to them. 

I took a step back and closed the blinds of my window, shuddering at the moment that passed. I walk back to my bed when there's a knock on my door. I looked up in confusion. I was sure no one would bother me, as Maya and Natalie blocked off the whole staircase. Only the main floor was accessible to the guests. 

I walked over and opened my door, and to my surprise, it was him. How did he get here so fast? Not ten seconds ago I saw him on the street outside the house, and now he’s at my bedroom door. 

“Who are you?” He asked me in a gruff tone. 

I paused for a second, confused about the question and what was going on. “What?” I managed to say. 

“Who are you?” He asked again. “What are you doing here?” He added. 

“I’m Y/n, I’m attending the University of Maine.” I said. “Who are you?” I added.

“Chris.” He said. “My family owns these houses.” 

I nodded in response. I had so many more questions. How did he get to my door so fast? Why did he glare at me earlier today? Why has he taken such an interest in me? Why was he staring at me from the street?

He stared at me for a moment. Glaring like he did earlier. He seemed disgusted and intrigued with me. Like I was a gross thing he wanted to figure out. 

I took a step back, uncomfortable with the situation. Chris seemed to take this as an invitation and swiftly entered my bedroom. 

He looked around, seeing the barren room. The soft blue bed sheets, ikea furniture that came in the room already. He looked back at me with the same confused look he always has on his face when he looks at me. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked. 

“Like what?” He said, looking away from me. 

“You know what I mean. You made that face when you saw me earlier today too. Like I sink or something.”

Chris scoffed. “Maybe you do.” He said with a smirk. 

My face reddened with embarrassment. I looked down and sniffed my shirt. Maybe I’m blind to my own smell, I thought. I smelled no different than usual, like fresh laundry and lavender body wash. 

I looked back up at Chris, who was watching me intently. I had grown more uncomfortable with the situation. 

“Can I ask you to leave?” I said. 

Chris shrugged. “You can.” He walked to the door and looked back at me. His eyes roamed up and down my whole body, causing me to shudder again. He made the confused and disgusted face once again before leaving. 

I shook off the discomfort before I sat back down on my bed. God I hope I don’t have to deal with that guy often.

Taglist: @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl1 @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer @meg-sturniolo @sturnioloenthusiast @nickdevora @hearts4chriss @carolinalikesthings @mattscokewhore @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07

[lizzyk137]

Baby's Secret- An Agent Gibbs Fic (Gibbs X Reader)

Description: After keeping your relationship a secret, what will it take for Gibbs to admit your his. Warnings: Mentions of bombings, swearing, hospital, fluff

(Part One) Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

Dinner at Gibbs place was great, and it certainly wasn't food you both were devouring.

The next few months kept you busy with new cases, therapy sessions and at-home date with Gibbs. Gibbs wasn't one to leave his house much when he was home from work. He was stubborn, stating he goes out enough at work that he doesn't need to on his days off, and he stays with that statement no matter how much you try to change his mind.

Now you didn't mind staying home with Gibbs. It was relaxing and brought a calm over you that you needed after a stressful job, plus, some of the activities were very entertaining. But you wanted more.

As time went on, and your relationship stayed a secret from the team, due to Gibbs breaking one of his own rules, you were starting to get irritated that it didn't seem like he wanted people to know about you. On cases he always stayed a far enough distance away from you so no one could assume and reserved to checking on you when you were out of work when you got hurt. He also never expressed how he felt about you. He was a man of few words and you could feel that he cared about you when you were alone but you also know that things could be very much different as they were presented to you. And as good as he made you feel, he also equally was hurting you.

"Where are you going?" He asked six months into your relationship. It was a quiet Sunday morning, and it was gorgeous out, so you thought of going out and enjoying it.

"I'm going to the farmers market with Tim." You had answered back as you grabbed your purse and a reusable bag.

"McGee?" You could hear him getting up from his chair.

You turned around to meet his eyes, "Yes McGee, we always go to the farmers market on our days off."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. We've been doing it for the last year." You laughed.

"Oh." You walked up to him and gave him a peck on the lips, hoping his scowl would wipe away from his face, but it stayed.

"I'll be back in a few hours. See you!"

You didn't realize that day would leave to you two having to expose the very secret Gibbs had hidden for months.

"Y/N, look at this!" McGee was holding up a poster for an old video game.

"Wow, twenty dollars? I don't know if it's a steal or a rip-off." You laughed as he handed you the framed poster and reached into his wallet for cash. He paid the merchant and grabbed the poster back.

"Defiently a steal for me, the starting price online for this is $100. So where to next, Y/N?"

"There is a cute little stall selling plushies that I was eyeing, if that's okay?" He nodded, and let you lead.

You headed over to the stall when you felt a pair of eyes on you in the crowd. You scanned the area but didn't seem to find anyone out of the ordinary. You reached your stall, and you and Tim were checking out the plushies when you felt the same feeling as before on you.

"Tim, I think someone is watching us." You whispered as you held up a small plush bat.

"Really?"

You showed him the plush bat, "Yeah, while we were walking over here and now. No one seems out of the ordinary. I might just be paranoid. What do you think for Abbie?"

He nodded, and you held the bat in your arms. "I'll keep an eye out." You nodded back to him and grabbed a cute orange kitten plush.

"I think I want this!" You smiled up at him, trying to make the air a bit lighter.

His lips morphed into a smile, "Well then, I guess we better get it. It's on me since you bought me coffee."

"Aw, Tim! That's sweet of you, thanks!" You showed the merchant your items and they tallied them up and you both paid. "Alright, I think it's lunch time!"

Tim stood next to you, looking around. "I feel it too. Lets head to another stall, I don't like this feeling of being watched.

"Sure." You took a step forward when you felt and heard a sudden blast behind you. Warm air hit you, shoving your body forwards as you flew through the air, body tumbling as soon as it touched back down to the ground. Wood flew everywhere around you, as you tried to get up to look at the damage, when you felt another blast from another stall besides you as the world grew black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gibbs was frightened. He hadn't been this frightened in a long time. Two of his teammates were lying unconscious in the hospital from some lunatic setting of a bomb and your condition wasn't the greatest as he watched your heart monitor bounce around irregularly.

"Hey, boss." Tony's voice interrupted his thoughts. "McGee just woke up. The doctor is checking him over and once he's done, we can talk to him."

The doctor came out an hour later and let the team know they could go in to see their friend.

"Take your time but what happened, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"Everything was normal until we got to our last stall. Y/N said she felt like someone was watching us but she didn't see anyone, and neither did I. I felt it as we were leaving but it was too late." McGee looked worried as he explained what happened to Gibbs. "I didn't see anyone but if I had just suggested we leave right off then she wouldn't here."

"Hey, nothing could have stopped those bombs from going off." Tony said gently, seeing McGee getting worked up as his heart monitor started beeping louder.

"Bombs? There was more than one? I only remember one of them."

Ziva nodded, "There was two. One at the stall you went too and one that was behind it."

They eventually left McGee after calming him down, and headed back into the waiting room.

"Tony, see what Abby has on the bomb. Ziva, figure out what stalls McGee and Y/L/N visit every week this past year."

"Past year? McGee didn't say anything about the past-"

"Just do it, Ziva!" Gibbs barked out.

"On it."

Gibbs circled around back to your room and watched you lying there. "We'll get them for you. I won't stop until I catch those bastards. Wait for me just a little longer."

Gibbs didn't visit the hospital for the next few days as he stayed up going over every little detail they had and trying to discover new leads. You still had yet to wake up, which fueled him even more to find whoever did this to you.

"Gibbs, I found something." Abby said over the phone.

"I'll be down." He said and ended the call. "Abby has a something, let's go."

The elevators chimed and as he and the team stepped off and into Abby's lab. "Whatcha got, Abs?"

"I found something in the security cameras. The shop that Y/N went to every week was this one here," Abby pulled up the shop's logo on the screen, "it's a small business that sells stuffed animals. She had been eyeing this cat for weeks. With my findings on the surveillance and evidence from the bomb, it looked like whoever made the cat used it as a trigger. Once out of the safe zone, it set off both bombs. The second one was delayed due to the stall being moved slightly during set up." She showed a few slides of the stuffed cat, one that looked similar to her cat that had just past away, and then to a video display of how the bombs worked. "I did some more digging, and found that the maker for these stuffed animals come from a company located just out of D.C."

"We spoke with the shop keepers and they said they draw up the designs and then send them out to a group that then goes around to manufacturers." Tony said.

"Tony, Ziva, go to the factory and interview the workers."

"Wait! I can do you one better." Abby said. "I managed to hack into their surveillance cameras, courtesy of McGee, and found exactly who worked on the stuffed cats for our small business. He goes by the name, James Harrington." Abby hit a key on the keyboard pulling up his James' social media. "It looks like Y/N and him had gone out a few times but about six months ago they haven't communicated or gone out."

"Let's bring him in." Gibbs said through a clenched jaw.

Gibbs was pumped for the interrogation and with a bit of yelling and one slam of the desk, James was putty in his hands. Spilling everything from how you rejected him after a few dates, and that you were always around McGee and he was furious that you could be with anyone but him.

"She always was with him. It was disgusting to watch them together every Sunday. I had to teach her boyfriend a lesson." James spat.

Gibbs eyes narrowed at the word boyfriend. "Well lucky for you, her boyfriend gets to ruin your life. Have fun in prison, while I get to continue dating her." He got up and slammed the interrogation room door closed and headed straight to the hospital, ignoring the shocked looks from Ziva and Tony.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gibbs pulled your hand closer to him and rested his cheek on it as he clasped it in his. Ever since he got the confession out of James, he had been by your side waiting for you to wake up.

Ziva, Tony and McGee watched from the door way, Gibbs oblivious to the three of them watching which was very much unlike him.

"I can't believe they're dating. How did we miss this?" Ziva whispered.

"What I wanna know is how." McGee answered back.

Tony chuckled, "I bet it was after they went 50 Shades of Grey during that undercover mission."

"Do you think they've been together that long?" Ziva questioned. "That was like half a year ago."

"It explains why Gibbs avoids her during cases."

"But why keep it a secret?" McGee asked.

"Maybe it's because they're happy with just each other." Tony replied, watching Gibbs gently kiss your forehead.

Gibbs watched as you slept peacefully. You looked like an angel, to him you always did, but especially now because you looked so peaceful. You were always peaceful when you slept. He could watch you for hours, running his fingers through your hair as you cuddled into him, your head on his chest.

He closed his eyes, feeling days worth of no sleep catching up to him.

"Jethro?" He thought it was your voice, but how could it be? You've been unconscious for the past week.

"Jethro?" The voice was clearing up and it definitely sounded like you. But it had to be a dream, he thought.

"Jethro!" Your voice was much louder this time, enough that Gibbs' head sprang up off the mattress and his eyes opened to meet yours.

"Y/N?" Gibbs said shakily.

You were sitting up, your hand still in his, with a big smile on your face. "You've been asleep for a few hours, you're quite cute when you're sleeping." You giggled.

Gibbs looked at you in disbelief for a second before he crushed you to his chest, holding you tightly. "Don't you ever leave me like that again." He whispered. "From now on, anywhere you want to go I'll follow. I can't lose you."

You pulled him away and cupped his cheek. "Are you okay with that?"

"This whole thing has made me realized how much I care for you. I'm not letting you walk out that door again, especially when you want me there."

He watched you smile, cupped the back of your head and placed a sweet kiss on your lips.

"No more hiding?"

"No more hiding."

Taglist:

@crimeshowjunkie

@slxmw

So sorry this took forever! So many things in my life popped up half way through writing this! The second half of this doesn't do the story line justice. Let me know what you think down below!!

[wolfjackle-creates]

Wow. I am blown away by the response to my bang fic so far. I did not expect a Jazz POV fic with a (relatively) rare pair to do half so well as it has.

But here's another scene I love from the first chapter. Consider checking out on AO3 if you haven't already!

-----

Twenty minutes later, they were curled up together on Dick’s bed with the lights out. Jazz had insisted on being the little spoon. After the last few days she’d had, she wanted nothing more than to have her boyfriend curled protectively around her.

“Jazz?”

“Hmmm?” she replied, already half asleep.

“Do you— Are you— Is it good for you, to work with metas in trouble?”

Her eyes flew open and she stared into the dark room. Any hint of sleep was gone as she lay there tense. Dick’s arm tightened around her stomach. She took one deep breath, then another. “You’re worried because of my brother.” It was a statement, not a question.

Dick hummed, “We’re similar in some great ways and some terrible ones. I want to make sure taking cases like Callum’s isn’t going to keep you wallowing and unable to move on.”

Jazz screwed her eyes shut against the burning. “My brother is dead,” she said, the half-truth ash in her throat. “He is dead and I couldn’t stop it. His powers only made him more of a target and not a single adult tried to stick up for him.” Each word was harder to say than the last. “If I can keep it from getting that bad for anyone else… I need to do it. I wouldn’t be able to face myself in the mirror if I didn’t try.”

“Okay,” said Dick. “Okay. I believe you.”

Jazz forced herself to relax again. Of course Dick would be worried. If their positions had been reversed, she would’ve asked the same thing.

Just as she was starting to relax, Dick spoke again. “Would he have liked me?”

Jazz sucked in a breath; behind her, Dick tensed. Before he could apologize or try to take back his question, Jazz replied. “Danny hated every guy I dated in high school.”

Dick’s arm tightened around her, and Jazz grabbed his hand to thread their fingers together.

“I can’t blame him, though. I dated some horrible guys. The worst, get this, he only dated me because he was part of some weird magic cult. They fucked up a ritual or something and he wanted to use my body as a host for his real girlfriend’s soul when her body got destroyed.”

“What the fuck?” asked Dick. “Didn’t you grow up in the middle of nowhere? That’s some Blüdhaven or Gotham shit.”

Jazz laughed and squeezed his hand. “The corn makes people crazy. Now hush, let me answer your question.”

“Sorry,” said Dick, but Jazz could hear the smile in it. And feel it when he kissed the back of her neck.

“Quite all right. Now, Danny, as I said, he hated every guy I dated.” She bit her lip. Despite the jokes, she struggled to talk around the lump forming in the back of her throat. “But none of them were good guys. If I had been able to introduce the two of you, he’d be mistrustful. And probably try to interrogate you.” She chuckled, though it was a bit wetter than her normal. “Not that it’d phase a police officer like you.

“But… Yes, Dick. Once I’d convinced him to give you a legit chance? He’d have loved you. The two of you have the same sense of humor, the same sense for justice, and the same disregard for personal safety. I’d go gray worrying about what the two of you were up to behind my back.” She let out a shaky breath and repeated, “He’d have loved you.” The truth of that statement burned more than the lies and Jazz kept herself still so Dick wouldn’t notice the tears she couldn’t stop.

It was a long moment before Dick replied. “Good. I’m glad.”

“Now, let me get some sleep.”

Dick kissed her spine again. “Good night. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

-----

Read more on AO3

[shadowqueenjude]

Chapter 5 of Fenrys x Nesta for @hrizantemy is here: read below or on ao3:

Child.

Nesta stared at the figure standing across a lake. She could not quite make out her features; they were constantly shifting. Her hair from midnight to gold to ruby to bronze, her eyes from emerald to sapphire to amethyst to opal, her skin from pale as the moon to dark chocolate. The only thing Nesta was certain of was that the figure was a woman.

Who are you? Nesta asked softly. Even through the vision, she radiated power. Nesta briefly saw a vision of silver hair and eyes before the features shifted once more.

Don’t you know me? she crooned. Nesta thought about it. Her soft, yet firm voice, sounded eternal. The way her features constantly shifted, as though she did not have one form…

“You are the mother,” Nesta decided. Nesta made out a smile through the shifting light, then the lady began to glow brighter and brighter until she was a ball of sunlight. Her eyes were red against her yellow skin (?).

“Indeed,” she confirmed. “Hello, dear.”

“But how are you here?” Nesta enquired before she could close her mouth. “I am not on that world anymore.”

The Mother laughed gently. “I am a goddess, sweetheart,” she cooed. Right. Nesta felt stupid now. “I created twenty-five worlds besides your own. The first one I made as a home for my numerous children.”

Nesta blanched. She had never heard that part of the story. “Children?” she repeated, confusion obvious in her tone.

The Mother nodded. “Yes, I have children. I was not always the Mother; I was once a beautiful blue star wandering through space. Then one day, something incredibly rare happened: a red star came close enough to enter my gravitational orbit but not destroy each other. From that moment, we became a binary star. It was easy to fall in love with the crimson queen, considering we were destined to revolve around each other for eternity. So, we had children, and together, we birthed the gods.”

Nesta knew her facial expression must be incredulous, but she was so confused by the mechanics of it all. “How do stars have kids?” she demanded. The Mother waved her off. “Unimportant. Anyway, the children were not stars as I had anticipated, but humanoid beings. As a result, I desired to create a planet for them so that they may live together in peace and harmony.”

“Let me guess,” Nesta said sarcastically. “That didn’t work.”

The Mother laughed gently. “No, it did not. I found the children to be insufferable, always engaging in petty squabbles and misusing their powers. So, I found that I needed to create an opposing force to keep them in check.

As our binary star came close to a black hole, I interacted with it with solar flares, pleading for my life in exchange for children. To my astonishment, he agreed to do it. Thus, with the combined force of our powers, we created a new race: the Valg. Or as they are known on your planet, the daemati.”

The daemati…amongst the earliest beings in existence? And created as a dark force to combat the gods. Wow…

“And then?” Nesta prompted after a long silence. The Mother coughed politely and continued, “It worked, for a time. The gods got a long well with each other, as did the Valg. But what I did not anticipate was that the Valg would be consumed by the heart of the black hole. They became wicked and selfish beings, far worse than my earlier children. Thus, the first war between the gods and the Valg began. I could not have this nonsense, so I created a new darker planet and sent my second set of children there.” The Mother shook her head sadly. “That was when it all began to go wrong.”

“What happened?” Nesta inquired. The story was interesting, if nothing else.

“The black hole betrayed me,” The Mother muttered bitterly. “He began to consume my crimson star. I had no choice but to push my way out of her orbit to avoid being consumed by the black hole.” The Mother sighed. “But my crimson queen did not die as I had once believed. Mostly gone, yes, but some part of her lived on, twisted and corrupted by the black hole. This entity of her is what became known as the Dark Mother.”

Nesta had vaguely heard of the Dark Mother. Apparently, these snake-like creatures in Prythian had worshipped them. Nesta had always thought the Dark mother was just a darker aspect of the Mother herself, not her lover.

“From there, creating worlds became a bit of an addiction. I loved creating new worlds and watching my new creatures thrive. I kept the gods and the valg far far apart in the hopes that they would never meet again.

But I was wrong. I had underestimated the valg’s lust for power. They consumed everything on the planet I made for them and craved more. They figured out how to travel to other worlds and began to consume my beautiful creations. Eventually, they wound up in the world you are currently in. So, I sent my first set of children to defend the population. Ultimately, it ended badly. A mortal queen used a powerful lock to seal the Valg king away- but she also trapped the gods here in the process. As they were trapped in the lock itself, they could not use their powers- but they could enter human minds and guide them, even lend them some of their magic. They did well to aid the fire-bringer in killing the valg rulers for good.

But ultimately, they went back on their word to defeat their siblings. So, when the mortal fire-bringer decided for revenge, I guided her to create the tunnel to hell, reserved for only the most wicked of beings. Along with it, the wyrdgates to travel between worlds were closed. But now…

My children have been cleverer than I anticipated. They’ve figured out how to travel between worlds in another way. And after what the mortal queen did to them, the queen you just met… they’ll want revenge.”

Nesta glared at the Mother. “Ok, then do something! Control your children!”

The Mother shook her head sadly. “I can only interfere so much, do to ancient magical laws surrounding supernatural beings. I can help you indirectly, but I cannot simply erase my children from existence, although that would be easier. Plus, they are gathering strength from the Dark Mother. That’s why they need you.”

Nesta pointed at herself. “Me?” she bellowed incredulously. “I am nothing compared to the High Lords of Prythian, or even compared to Fenrys’s court.”

The Mother chortled, standing up and walking over to her. Nesta felt the warmth of the sun wash over her as she pushed a finger under her chin. “Of course you are not. You are so much stronger. You are made from both the elements of me and the Dark Mother. That makes you the most powerful non-godly being to exist.”

Nesta reeled over the news. So she had to save another damn world. No fucking pressure or anything.

“Can’t I just rest?!” Nesta shrieked. “You are tormenting me with task after task after task-“

The Mother placed a hand on her shoulder, and Nesta’s agitation dissipated. “I know, child. I know. But I have brought you here for a reason, dear. I have foreseen that here, you shall at last know peace.”

“What do you mean by that?” Nesta demanded. But the Mother’s glowing orb began to slowly shrink. Nesta tried to reach out to her, but she was always a step too far. “Mother. MOTHER!” she shrieked.

“Nesta?”

Nesta blinked her eyes open. She had fallen asleep on one of the couches in the courtroom they had been in. Fenrys and his queen were looking at her in concern.

“Are you alright?” Fenrys asked.

Nesta grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the corridors. “I have to tell you something.”

[cinnamoodles]

the language of flowers — part two, irises

warnings: more angst than part one which is great, also reader throwing stuff bc she’s a badass, and in character Anthony which is honestly more of a red flag than ooc Anthony but you love him anyway you nasty :)

word count: 1.4k (wow I impress myself sometimes)

author’s note: we love this part bc reader stands up for herself and Anthony is one major daddy issues boy.

read the other parts! — part one, daises | part three, peonies

i don’t consent for my work to be reposted or copied, translated, or transferred to any other platform, or this one, in part or whole.

--------- . . . ---------

ii. 1804, iridaceae versicolor. irises, trust

Anthony paced the length of this study—which wasn’t all too large, but stress relieving nonetheless. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, a tempestuous mix of newfound worry and lingering doubts. Today marked one year, one year without his father, one year his mother was cast into a depressive state, one year since he had taken on the mantle of viscount, and become the father figure that his youngest siblings did not have.

It had been far too long since he had last spoken to you—days? Weeks? He had never gone so long without even seeing your face, and that was a stretch. He’d spent his last few months mourning, brooding, and perhaps being a tad overbearing on himself, but he had to, for the sake of his family’s honour, it’s prestige. 

There’s a sharp knock on his door, it’s most likely Colin or Daphne, who are frequent in irritating him. He makes no effort to open the door, and with a practiced gesture, he dips his quill into the inkwell, resuming his task of poring over the estate's financial matters. How often had his father sat here, absorbed in these very same calculations? A pang of longing pierces through him at the thought, his heart echoing the emptiness his father's absence had left behind.

Another knock.

It must be Colin, his eyes sparkling, attempting to irritate him once again. “I’ve got a job,” he snaps, “and I suggest you get one as well, one that does not involve vexing me at every given minute.”

The door creaks open, candlelight flickering over the stacks of leather bound tomes and haphazardly organized scrolls, casting lanky shadows over his face, playing upon the strong angles, highlighting the lines of exhaustion that marred his usually composed countenance. His normally impeccable attire was slightly disheveled, as if he had been running his hands through his hair in frustration, and his ink-stained fingers spoke of long hours spent in diligent work. He wasn’t in a position to meet anyone, much less usher yet another one of his young siblings out of his room.

“Oh, I vex you? Is that why you've been evading me like the plague?” Your presence was like a sudden burst of sunlight piercing through the storm clouds—startling, yet warmly welcomed. The quill slipped from his fingers as his eyes widened in surprise, locking onto your face, a vision that brought back a flood of memories and feelings he had attempted to suppress.

Your stormy eyes burned through his deep brown ones, and you crossed your hands across your chest. Your soft hair was tucked behind your ear, and your eyes were wide, as if staring directly into Anthony’s soul, and for just a moment, he allowed himself to become lost, to dream, and to gaze into them as if he was merely a boy again, holding you in his arms.

“Say something, Anthony! I’ve not seen you in weeks, properly, and you’ve barely held a conversation with anyone other than your butler, and frankly, I—” 

Anthony quickly wrapped you in a hug, burying his face in your shoulder, your cotton dress soft to the touch. He mumbles. “I missed you.” He can feel you stiffen, but soon gently relax into his arms.

“That is why I came,” you smile, and pull away, holding him at an arm’s distance. “Oh, and my brother is getting married. I wanted to invite you personally to the wedding.” Your oldest brother, twenty eight years of age, was getting married, Anthony recalled. He was, of course, to be the next Duke when your father inevitably passed.

Anthony rubbed his eyes. “My sisters will come, of course, but I may not be able to.” Your invitation was tempting, and the prospect of seeing you again filled Anthony with a mix of excitement and trepidation. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed you until this moment, when you walked in the door. But his responsibilities as the viscount weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he feared that leaving the estate at this crucial time might jeopardize his mother’s already precarious emotional situation.

"I wish I could attend, truly," Anthony replied with a hint of regret in his voice. "But with the estate's financial matters in such disarray, I can't afford to be away for long. I must attend to my duties here."

You frowned slightly, concern glazed across your soft, delicate features. "Anthony, you can't carry the burden of the entire estate on your own. There must be someone who can assist you, even for a short time."

"I've considered that," Anthony admitted, his mind aching from the internal struggle. "But finding someone trustworthy, capable, and knowledgeable enough to handle the estate's affairs is not an easy task. I fear leaving things in someone else's hands might cause more harm than good.”

You crossed your arms, frustration evident in your expression. "Anthony, you can't keep shutting yourself off from the world. Your family's honor and prestige won't matter if you run yourself into the ground!"

He takes a step back, feeling defensive under your stern gaze. "I am taking care of things. I'm doing what I need to do to ensure the estate's survival, which is all that matters to me, at this point in time."

"Are you?" you snap, your voice tinged with disappointment that Anthony could see etched in your face. "You've barely spoken to anyone, including me, for weeks. You're burying yourself in work, and for what? To prove some sort of point? That you’re fit to be the man of the house?"

"I don't have a choice," Anthony replied tersely. "As the viscount, it's my duty to oversee everything. And after losing my father, I can't afford to let anything else slip through my fingers."

"You can't live in the past, Anthony," you urged, taking a step closer to him. "Your father's gone, and while it's natural to mourn, you can't let grief consume you. Of course, you have responsibility—"

His jaw clenched, and he shot back, "Responsibility? What would you know of responsibility? You don't understand the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. I can't just leave everything behind and go gallivanting off to weddings, like an immature child."

Pain flashed across your face, but Anthony was much too in his head to take a look at his surroundings. He continued, as if possessed by some spirit. “You’ve never had to work a day in your life. You’re spoiled, and the only thing your family has ever thought of doing for you is getting you married.” He spit. “So why don’t you worry about your responsibilities, and I’ll worry about mine.”

A single tear fell from your eye, and in that moment, Anthony wished he could take it all back, swallow the poison he had thrown at you so mercilessly. “I…” you bite your lip, and he wanted to take you in his arms, comfort you, and hold you.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out. “I’m sorry for whatever sin I’ve done to have you treat me like this.” You quickly wipe your tears and rush to the door. Anthony wanted to stop you, to scream about how he didn’t mean any of the words he said.

You quickly turn around, revealing a bouquet of irises, the specific ones Anthony had commented on the last time he visited your estate. He could barely remember when. “By the way, I bought you flowers. I thought they’d cheer you up,” you retort, before throwing the delicately tied bunch of flowers straight to his head, hitting his nose.

The door slammed, and Anthony was once again left alone, only this time, he’d have done anything to bring you back. Slowly, the petals of the irises cascaded down onto the ground, fracturing the flowers, and Anthony noticed a small piece of paper.

The Guide for Flora for Debutantes: In the quaint world of botany, the charming iris blooms have long been regarded as symbolic emissaries of trust and faithfulness. Like an ancient scroll unraveling before our very eyes, the iris, with its alluring hues and delicate petals, unravels the story of steadfast devotion and allegiance. Just as an honest man's handshake vouches for his sincerity, the iris bestows its trust upon those who approach with an open heart and gentle touch, and a receiving of this gentle bloom from either gender discloses that the gifter trusts you with their whole heart. Its regal demeanor, reminiscent of a gallant knight in armor, instills in us the assurance that this flower is a beacon of loyalty and constancy.

Trust. You had trusted him, and what had he done with that? He’d tossed it away, and your gift had broken. Anthony wasn’t usually one for symbolism, but these broken irises were pretty damn apparent.

[sitp-recs]

Hi ,its my first time asking you anything since maybe one year ago that i found your reclist that in my opinion is one of the best IF NOT THE BEST drarry reclist to exist. Not only is so well organizased but is amazing how you cover almost avery theme, tag, request....Thanks for the effort that you make ❤️.

Since you an amazing reccer i wanna know if its posibble asking you for some recs, the thing is that i love the kind of stories tha break my heart into pieces while reading more so when our boys have to suffer to finally have peace and enjoy themselves. By any chance do you know stories where Harry and Draco have to give up their relationship and their love for other things or people like draco for his parents or Harry for the Weasleys or the greater good?

If by any chance you read this thank you so much and keep blessing us with your presence here. ❤️

Oh wow what a way to start my week! Thank you for the kind words, I’m so happy that you enjoy the blog and are finally sending your own request. I appreciate you ❤️ I see you’re going for hardcore angst with the self-sacrificing trope! I think you might enjoy these treats:

The Promise by Frayach (M, 4.5k)

Draco made two promises that pulled him in opposite directions. He can only fulfill one.

An Emerald In The Sky by corvuscrowned (M, 6.6k)

The hardest part about shagging an Unspeakable is that they’re not allowed to speak of anything. All Draco knows is that Harry works in Time. Harry works in Time, and while he’s out there in all of that time, it is as unforgiving to him as it is to anyone.

The Eighth Tale by lettered (E, 12k)

Draco Malfoy tries to fix the past, but instead mucks it up some more. For Harry, it all becomes quite clear.

Unfinished Business by cupiscent (E, 20k)

Ten years after the War ends, Harry and Draco still haven't got their act together. But maybe it's not too late.

Us, in Lieu by Tepre (E, 29k)

Teddy needs help and Harry needs funding. Draco sits in the other room and plays the piano.

On One's Knees by pir8fancier (E, 33k)

The war is over and to the victors go the spoils. If you are triggered by infidelity, this is not the fic for you.

We Are Young (I'll Carry You Home Tonight) by Femme (E, 70k)

Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement--and financial gain--of their circle of friends.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

Close Behind by oflights (M, 134k)

To rescue Draco from the Underworld, Harry has to look forward. Unfortunately, Draco has to look back.

Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 (T, 300k)

Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Scott and Hope’s child (Hank Jr. Edition)

Scott Lang/Hope van Dyne x child!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Scott and Hope have a baby girl (reader). And everything seems to be fine, but somewhere from the age of five, it becomes clear that the reader is a complete copy of her grandfather Hank Pym, that is: she is incredibly smart, she loves ants (she can talk about them for hours), she also has problems controlling anger (she hit a guy in the face at school for saying that ant-man sucks), thinks that there is no one smarter than her and her grandfather, and she also transferred his sarcastic communication style and views on things and people around, for example, when she first met Tony, she said: "You can never trust Stark."”

somewhere in the distant future a special kid was born

and that special kid had special parents and special grandparents

and those parents and grandparents were two generations of superheroes who saved countless lives (and, well, the world)

so it was no surprise to them that this next generation would be just as intelligent and caring as the ones before them

*cue a toddler with crayons in class*

“and then my grandpa asked the ants nicely to fly him to a bunch of different places and do all these cool things like move stuff around and like do other stuff” -you rambling on

“do you like anything besides ants?” -your teacher

“no” -you, continuing to draw ants on your paper

hank and janet were quite proud grandparents

and scott and hope, your wonderful amazing parents…couldn’t get enough of it

“honey, what about wasps? wasps are cool, right?” -hope

“no” -you

“she’s spending too much time with my dad” -hope

“well, he’s the only babysitter we’ve got since cassie got that new job” -scott

“oh, you mean our old job? yeah, miss those days where we could go flying around getting into trouble and beating people up” -hope

“well, you promised we’d retire so y/n wouldn’t end up with a childhood like yours” -scott

“y/n’s gonna want to be a superhero when they get older, arent they?” -hope

“let’s not think too far ahead. it might kill me” -scott

scott reads you his biography every night before bed

and you always giggle at the parts where your mom and grandpa bully him

“hey, not funny!” -scott

“so funny” -you

“dont get any ideas” -scott

“daddy, are you gonna get arrested again?” -you

“if i do it’ll be grandpa hank’s fault” -scott

you continued spending time with grandpa hank and grandma janet

and they spoiled the crap out of you

hank…got you an ant farm

“now you’re just being ridiculous, hank” -janet

“what? i’m just having some bonding time with my grandchild! hope never wanted anything to do with me growing up” -hank

once you started getting older, you wanted to hang out in grandpa’s lab allll the time. day and night

your parents hated it

“hey, think this one will suck us all into the quantum realm?” -scott

“it was one time!” -cassie

cassie was at hank and janet’s a lot, too, actually. they always wanted to help her with her suits and gadgets and all that

and make sure she had plenty of pym particles

“you have enough, right? here, take some more, i have plenty” -hank

“grandpa, please, i have more than enough, thank you” -cassie

“can i have some pym particles?” -you

“we can play with them in the backyard next time youre over” -hank

you draw new suit designs for cassie all the time

some of them she actually incorporates into her suits

and as you get older, you try to start designing more tech for her

“y/n is really scaring me” -hope

“why?” -scott

“just watch her and my parents together…they’re the same” -hope

“dear god, what have we done” -scott

“dad, look at this new pym particle powered weapon, i just finished the prototype!” -you

“okay, now i’m mad because where was this when i needed it!” -scott

“fifteen to twenty years too late” -hope

“we should have gotten together sooner” -scott

“i disagree” -hope

“wow, not even a pity agreement” -scott

asking your parents if they’ll get back into crime fighting

they said no

asking if you can get into crime fighting

they said no again

so you just kinda stockpiled all your ideas

and did everything you could to further your grandpa’s work

and help your sister

and keep your parents’ minds at ease (doesn’t really work)

and maybe one day you’ll be able to ride those ants and kick some ass like you always dreamed

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 //

[lovedumb]

ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ⋆˚࿔ welcome 2 my blog 𝜗𝜚˚ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ

Hulloooooo! my name is lucky ! ok, not actually…. bad start lying to u all.. but thats what u can call me on here! i consider myself to be an exceedingly lucky individual ! :3 this is a little intro post to help you to get to know the dog behind the blog. 🐾🐾

im nineteen years old, but i’ll be twenty in march which is cool and also super scary. i am nonbinary, autistic, and a lesbian (wow tumblr is perfect for me) & i loveeee my girlfriend (chronically offline, no tumblr, sadface) & im from southern california!

ive never really maintained a blog before but it’s been a goal of mine for a long time, and since my goal for 2025 is to try and work towards my most authentic self & pamper myself to the fullest. plus i’ve been wanting new hobbies for quiiiite some time. for the most part i spend most of my time reorganizing my room or hanging out with my girlfriend, and i spend most of my day on my phone since im mid job-hunt right now. i work at a seasonal arts & crafts festival & i love to draw, paint, sculpt, make jewelry, and im learning how to sew!

the plan for this blog is to be a progress tracker, i want to watch myself grow into the person i know i deserve to become. i want to build better habits for myself, adopt new ways of living and rid myself of ways that no longer serve me. i want my twenties to be beautiful, and i want to have a way to look back on these years. and if anyone happens to stumble across my corner of the internet, maybe ill inspire them to want better for themself too.

i want a consistent routine. ive never had the discipline for it but discipline is a choice not a feeling and i have to choose to want better for myself if i want to break the cycles i was born into. skincare and shower routine and haircare and cleaning my space and eating better and sleeping well. ive been working on a lot of these habits already for a few months now and im really proud of how far ive come from when i was in highschool. since im not in college yet i want to ensure i keep myself learning.

i love learning and reading. i have a small collection of books on lesbianism and kink from the late 1980s-early 2000s that are my pride and joy. i also really want to document the process of me trying to get back on HRT & back into therapy this year. all things self improvement you catch my drift.

skincare & self care in general has also been a recent obsession, i grew up never being taught how to show myself love and ive realized nothing makes me feel better than a clean body, clean outfit, and a clean mind. living on my own and having to take care of myself for the first time, i want to make my life softer than its ever been before.

something i wish to achieve with this blog includes inevitably moving this to my own website rather than something hosted by tumblr, i have a longstanding passion for web design and it would be really fun to document the journey on here alongside building a blog creating a website for!!! though this is an exceedingly longterm goal, i think it is worth putting it to paper (ive heard this makes things real faster.. i think if something’s gonna hapen its gonna happen, wether its on paper or not, but i like the idea nonetheless…)

ok ive been typing so long my paws are starting to hurt, thank u for reading this longwided introduction to me, some stranger on the internet who u know slightly more about than u did a few minutes ago. i hope you are well, give urself a big hug for me, and go eat a snack if you’re able to.

tags i use: love lucky 🍀, la la lucky

ੈ✩‧₊˚ love, lucky 🫖

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Finally it’s the stories where Magic is watching season 8 and can tell that we’re gonna get canon Buddie and has decided to get involved to speed things along! Which is honestly so valid of Magic I would do that too if I could

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️ (It makes me so happy that every story with a bucktommy breakup is now just realigning with canon! We love BtBones! And we love this fic! I still have no real clue what’s happening and it’s delightful!! Loving the ride!)

🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️🌤️ (IM. SO. NORMAL.) (No I’m not but that’s okay! Is this another “buddie sees snippets of their future” type story and that future includes a Nico? I love your other ones like that and I already love this one too!!)

I hope you have a nice time in Jamaica Cal! And I hope you enjoy the continued journey of Getting Eddie Out and getting Buck off the hamster wheel and the return of Brad and HotShots! Wow I really love this show right now (and always) and I’m so glad to share it with lovely people like you!

- PCA <3

HELL YEAH TO THIS THEME TOO.

And thank you! Jamaica was awesome. Very affirming career wise. And YES I am loving it!

78 for ⚖️ (THANKS! You are going to find out a bit more of what is happening here.)

---

She sighs. “My name is Nemesis.”

“Oh,” Buck replies, concealing a grimace. Parents were edgy then? Then Buck remembers the scales on his arm. His mind flashes to an illustrated mythology book that Chris once showed him. “Or… Wait a minute. You’re not saying you’re that…” 

She nods. “The very same.”

Buck’s shoulders drop. “Okay. That’s… That’s not real.” 

“Oh? It’s not?” She raises her eyebrows, casually amused. “You’ve seen yourself this week how very real I am.”

Buck swallows. He can’t deny that. 

“What did you do to me?” Buck asks. “And how can I get my life back?”

“Oh, you can’t. Sweet thing. You just can’t. It’s gone.”

“Gone?” Buck echoes. 

She nods. “I’ll break this down really simply. I haven’t had a proper representative over in these parts for… Well, since 1911.”

1911. 

Why does Buck know…

Oh. 

“That’s the year Billy Boils died,” Buck says. 

She nods. “Mmm. Sad time. Even sadder? How long it has taken to find a replacement.”

Buck feels queasy. “Me? I’m the replacement?”

“No one else that came in contact with the body was quite right,” she says. “Too power hungry. Too selfish. Too weak. You, though? You’re just right.”

“I knew I was cursed,” Buck hisses. 

“Cursed?” She protests. “No, it’s a gift! How many times do I have to say that?”

“Maybe I’m too stupid for it, then,” Buck says. “Should probably revoke it.”

“The only revocation is death, Evan Buckley,” Nemesis snaps. 

He pales. Fuck. 

“I almost did die,” he reminds her. “How is that a gift?”

“Oh, well that’s all part of it,” she shrugs. 

“All part of it?” He demands. “I got so sick they told my family I was on death’s door. That was you?”

She nods. “It was.”

“I was covered in boils!” 

She nods again.

“You dislocated my shoulder!”

This gives her pause. “I did what?”

“Uh… When my shoulder dislocated just like… Just like I accidentally did to Billy.”

She snorts. “That was all you.” 

---

144 or 1k for 🌤️ (THANK YOU! It's a trope I love to write and I missed Nico!)

---

Also that Eddie’s not far off. But still. Eddie plans on holding this over his head.

But that also means… Chris is twenty. Twenty. 

He opens his messaging app and searches for Christopher’s name. He’s right at the top. According to his phone, they talked the day before. He scrolls up without really reading. They talk a lot. That’s a good sign. Better than their current state of affairs. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and hits the call button.

It rings a few times. Enough that Eddie starts to get nervous Chris won’t pick up. 

But he does.

“Dad?” An adult male voice answers groggily. 

Eddie finds himself smiling and shaking a little, all at the same time. 

“H-hey, Chris. Hi.”

“Is everything okay?” Chris sounds a bit alarmed.

“What? Yeah. Yeah, of course. I was just hoping to talk.”

“At seven in the morning on a Saturday?”

Oh. Whoops.

“I mean, I expect this from Buck, but I thought you were reasonable.”

“Oh, wow. Sorry. I didn’t realize the time.”

“Nico wake you up stupid early?” 

“Something like that… Hey, uh… Speaking of Nico. Uh, your brother.” 

“You’re being weird. He okay?” 

“Yeah. He’s great,” Eddie guesses. He thinks so anyway. “But he wants to put up the Christmas tree.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m coming over Monday night, right?” 

Monday night. That’s why Nico was asking how many days. Okay, that’s not so long to tell him. But… But what if Eddie and Buck are back to their proper timeline by Monday night? Which would be ideal. Eddie should get back to his proper life. Ideally. But… But how can he miss this chance either? To see Chris, twenty years-old, and not… Gone from his life? A Chris nearby and in frequent contact? Or, at least Eddie assumes he’s nearby. If he can just pop over for Christmas tree decorating. 

“Yeah, Monday. We can do that. Uh, you busy today, though?” 

Eddie has no idea what he does or where he lives or what’s going on in his life. This might be an absurd ask. 

“Uh… I was going to do some schoolwork, but I guess I could postpone it.”

Normally, Eddie would say no. Don’t put off schoolwork for him. School comes first. Whatever school he’s in these days. But… But Eddie really needs to see him. He hasn’t seen Christopher in months, and he’ll take him at whatever age he can get. 

“Is that… Is that okay?” Eddie asks. “I mean… There’s sort of an adorable kid really hoping it is.”

Chris chuckles. “Yeah, that’s okay. You good to pick me up?” 

Eddie exhales, relieved. “Yes! Just tell me a time that works.” 

They agree upon a time and end the call. Eddie is so happy he feels like he’s floating. It only takes him a minute to realize he has no idea where Chris lives. 

🌤️

Buck is pretty excited to hear that Chris is coming over. Less excited to learn both their ages. Because what? That’s an insane amount of time to miss. That means Jee-Yun is ten. Jee-Yun! That means… Well, is Bobby still working at the 118? Are Buck and Eddie still working at the 118? There’s a lot to catch up on. A lot Buck feels uncomfortable to have missed. 

Buck is less excited when - through helping Eddie search his Google Maps history to find what must be Christopher’s apartment - he realizes Eddie will be collecting Chris by himself. Meaning, Buck will be staying home with Nico. Alone. And, yeah. It sounds lame. He’s sort of afraid of his future son. If this is the real future. Which, once again, is somewhat dubious because of the whole Eddie marrying him part.

It’s not that he’s afraid of Nico specifically. The kid is adorable and pretty sweet. Buck gets the sense he’s a bit more hyper than the kids he’s used to. A bit less able to sit still.  Always got something to do or say. He’s sort of busy. But… Well, that’s just kind of par for the course if he is Buck’s. So no concern there. He likes Nico. The problem is that he doesn’t actually think he wants to know him. 

It seems cruel, right? Like fate or the universe or whoever is playing a very sick joke on him. One day he’s broken up with by someone who pretty much changed his life. The next, he’s being shown some sort of dream future he won’t ever actually get to experience. Nico isn’t actually going to be his. So the idea of getting to know him sort of hurts like a bitch.

“You’ll be okay,” Eddie whispers, seeing the hesitation on his face before he leaves the house. “You’re great with kids. You know that.”

It’s been about an hour since his call with Chris. They’ve finished eating. They’ve all gotten dressed. Buck has discovered Nico has an extensive collection of firefighter shirts, whether LAFD in origin or otherwise. He insists on wearing one today. 

“I…” Buck sighs. “I know that. I just… I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it.”

He doesn’t know how to explain this to Eddie. That he doesn’t want to look too hard at this beautiful fantasy life. It’ll come too close to admitting he thinks he would want exactly this. Exactly something that Eddie can’t and shouldn’t have to offer him. That’s an unfair expectation. Learn how to be queer because I really like playing house with you. Yeah, no. It’s there or it’s not, right? 

“I’ll just be gone for a bit,” Eddie says. “Then we’ll have Chris as a buffer anyway.”

“You don’t think Chris will figure us out?” Buck asks. 

Eddie looks skeptical. “Why would anyone, in a million years, ever guess this?”

Well, because not everyone is a raging cynic. But, Chris is twenty. Maybe he’s grown into his father’s brand of in-the-box thinking when it comes to the way the world works.

[alivingolive]

First of all, whose idea was it for Billy Joel to be born so long before me? Now I’m stuck in a timeline where I’m frantically hoping he doesn’t call it quits before I can see him live (IT SUCKS 😣)

I’ll admit, there’s a certain charm in being late to the party—like finding a book everyone’s read and realizing it’s every bit as good as they said. That’s how his music feels to me: timeless. 

So.. this leaves me with no choice but to dive headfirst into a very enthusiastic (and probably incoherent) rant about his music.

This is probably just me and my low-level understanding of music (i'm self-aware, okay?), but I’ve never experienced anything like his discography before.

Usually, I’ll find one or two songs I love, a few I like, and the rest are... there. But with his works? Well, I’m not saying every single track is a masterpiece (calm down, super fans), but liking almost 90% of someone’s work? That’s unheard of for me.

Maybe I just don’t “get” other artists, or maybe I’m just clueless about music. Either way, he’s different. I’m over here liking entire albums. Who does that? Is this what having standards feels like? 

Now, after hours of unnecessary self-inflicted stress (and questioning whether I even understand what “favorites” mean), I’ve landed on a top three.

Is this ranking stable? Absolutely not. But for now, these are the songs I’m obsessively replaying while pretending this choice isn’t tearing my soul apart. Let’s unpack them while I still believe in my own decisions. (spoiler: i don’t)

Got to Begin Again is the first. This song doesn’t just ask you to feel; it demands it. And I’m not usually the type to be all lyric-driven, but this one? It kind of broke me.

The whole thing feels like it’s saying, “Look, life sucks, but it’s cool. You’re fine... Probably.” (notice the optimism dripping off that word) And the melody? It’s like the universe is both yelling at you and patting you on the back at the same time.

I don’t know how he managed to create the musical equivalent of a therapist with zero solutions but a really good playlist, but here we are.

And Going to Extremes? Don’t even get me started.

“And if I stand or I fall, it’s all or nothing at all.”

That line is so ridiculously good it makes me want to get up and do something dramatic—like, quit my job, burn a bridge or two, and then confidently walk into… I don’t know, the nearest cafe? Because I didn’t plan that far ahead.

For exactly four minutes and twenty-three seconds though, I’m convinced I’ve got life all figured out.

Then there’s 52nd Street. I’m not even going to try and pretend I understand what’s happening in the music (do me a favor and listen to the 1:02-1:19 part)

I don’t know why it works, I don’t know how it works, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel—but wow, does it work.

It’s so perfect it makes my brain short-circuit. It’s the musical equivalent of staring at a masterpiece in an art gallery and thinking, “I don’t get it, but I love it.”

And... it’s frustrating because I know just enough about music to know that I know nothing (cue existential dread) Like, how does someone even create something like this? It’s so good it feels unfair.

But here’s the thing: I’ve always loved music—it’s been a big part of my life—but now it feels different. For the first time, I feel like I want to do something with that love for music.

Like, he’s set some kind of invisible bar that I have no business trying to meet, and yet, here I am. It’s not about connecting with people or becoming the next big thing, though. Honestly, I don’t care if no one ever hears it (definitely a lie)

But.. I want to take all the messy, confusing, slightly chaotic parts of me and turn them into something that makes sense—something that sounds like me (no clue how to do that)

So yeah, he’s officially turned my interest in music into an existential crisis. I’m supposed to be figuring out how to do something with this inspiration, but instead, I’m writing yet another long-winded Tumblr post about him while procrastinating on literally everything else in my life.

[artemistorm]

Avalanche Rescue Part 6 - Final

Whumptober day 25 completed--Finally finished this! Yaaay! Will put this on AO3 shortly.

Other parts if you haven't read them yet:

[Pt 1] [Pt 2] [Pt 3] [Pt 4] [Pt 5]

****** (874 words)

While Wolfie groomed Smallest Pup's fur, other pups change clothes, wrap in blankets, be cozy cuddle pups. Sky pup give out hot stinky plant drink. Battle pup, Bunny pup, and Old Father bury hole in snow.

Lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick--

“Urgh,” Smallest pup groaned. Pup move! Pup open eyes! Pup waking up! Yay! Tail wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag--

“Uhhh... Wolfie. Hi.” Four said and scratched Wolfie head.

“Hi! Hi! Happy you wake up!” Wolfie whined. “Long sleep worry Wolfie!”

“He's awake!” Sky exclaimed. Time jumped up and hurried to Four's side.

“How are you feeing?” Time asked Four.

“I've been better,” Four said.

“Would a potion would help?”

“Ugh. Probably.” Four put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes again.

Smallest pup in pain. Wolfie worry whined.

“I have one here for you. Wolfie, back up. Give us some space.” Time nudged Wolfie away.

Wolfie get up, go to Special cub and Bunny Pup. Ow ow ow sore legs. Squeeze between pups, lay down.

“Wolfie!” Legend laughed and scooted away from Wild to make room for Wolfie.

“Is he limping?” Wild asked.

“Did anyone bother to check Wolfie for injuries?” Warriors asked.

“I didn't,” Hyrule said. “He seemed fine earlier.”

“Why don’t you change back into a human?” Wind asked.

“I think he wants to be Dog today,” Wild answered. “Some days are dog days.”

“I'll check him,” Hyrule said. “Move over, Wild.”

Wolfie let Wander pup check him for injuries. Silly pup, Wolfie was fine. Only tired sore. Lick, mouth Wander pup's arms.

“Nothings broken or bruised as far as I can tell,” Hyrule said.

“Could just be sore joints,” Legend said.

“He has been doing a lot of running today,” Wind agreed.

“I think I have something for that,” Wild said and started digging through his bag.

Hmm? What's that? Wolfie sniff Special Cub's bag. Food? Food? Is that... meat? Special cub have meat for Wolfie? Wolfie suddenly very hungry. Wolfie dinner time? Meat for Wolfie?

“Here you go Wolfie. You deserve it.” Special cub give Wolfie roasted meat. Wolfie take it, carry it away from other pups. Wolfie's meat. Not pup's meat.

OM NOM NOM NOM Mmmmm. Meat. Mmmmm. Om nom nom nom. So tasty. So meaty. Tasty deer meat. Om nom nom nom.

“Looks like he was hungry,” Hyrule laughed.

“I would imagine so with how much digging and running around he did,” Time said helping Four to settle sitting up against an old log.

“Hi Four!” Wind chirped. “How are you doing?”

“Uh. Hi everyone,” Four said awkwardly, his hair stiff with Wolfie spit and sticking out every which way. “I'm alright. Is everyone else okay?”

“Yeah, we're all fine, thanks to Wolfie,” Wild said.

“Wolfie certainly is the hero of today,“ Warriors said. “He saved my life.”

“Mine too,” Four replied.

“So what exactly happened?” Legend asked. “Wild and I were down here this whole time and we didn't see what happened to any of you.”

The Chain spent the next twenty minutes each telling the story of what happened from their perspective and sorting out how it all fit together.

“Wow. So it sounds like Wolfie himself is responsible for finding and rescuing pretty much everyone,” Four said.

“I think he deserves a treat,” Sky said. “Wolfie, do you want a treat?”

Treat? Treat? Wolfie stopped listening to boring talk long ago. Ate meat, started to doze, but Wolfie heard the word 'treat!' Wolfie always hears word 'treat!'

“That's right! Here! Have a fish! Thanks for helping dig me up, and, uh, you know. Laying on me while Hyrule fxed my arm.”

Sky pup toss whole fish. Wolfie catch it in the air! Yum!

“Ew. Did you just have a raw fish in your bag?” Warriors asked.

“I keep whatever I want in my bag,” Sky answered.

“I have a treat for you too, Wolfie,” Warriors said.

Treat? More treats for Wolfie? Yaaayyy! Wolfie very happy, tail wag and beg in front of Battle pup.

Battle pup give Wolfie a cheese sandwich. An old cheese sandwhich. Old and stinky. Need to roll in it before eating.

“Wolfie, I have something for you too,” Smallest pup said. ”It's not much, but you should have it.”

Smallest pup toss food at Wolfie. Wolfie catch it. Mmmm! Sausage roll! Wolfie eat it very fast.

“I think that's enough people food for Wolfie,” Time said. “Don't want to make him sick.”

“It's 'give Wolfie food' time. What will you give me?” Wolfie begged Old Father. Other pups laugh.

“...Alright. You got me.” Old father give Wolfie head scratch. “Here's some roasted pumpkin.”

Wolfie sniff. Not meat, but okay. Wolfie always take offered food.

Wander pup give Wolfie mutton leg. Baby pup give Wolfie oatmeal cookies. Bunny pup give Wolfie mushrooms on pokey stick.

Wolfie eat lots, bury extra for breakfast. Pups cook and eat and talk. Sun set. Moon rise. Wolfie greet, sing to moon. Wolfie and pups cuddle together, pups go to sleep. Wolfie sleepy.

Wolfie good wolf. Wolfie found all pups. Wolfie save buried pups. Wolfie bring pack together. Wolfie help heal, groom hurt pups. All pups okay. Wolfie tired, fed, sleepy, safe.

Wolfie very happy.

[hautsreadsmarvel]

“The Fantastic Four” (1961, issue 4)

At the end of the previous volume, the Torch ran off because he was fed up with the Thing shitting on him. 

Spelling it thru is certainly a choice, and one I’ve decided to stick with for the remainder of this blog. Flashback panels having a wavy border to distinguish them is a nice touch. And is that… a primordial ad for the Hulk? I wonder what that could be?

There it is on the next page! What could they be talking about!?

Trans pride flag!Sue Storm forgets to relax her invisibility while searching for Johnny, causing another ghost scare. Starting to enjoy how this is just a consistent thing she does. The best pranksters succeed without even trying, truly.

So everybody knows this guy is the Torch, by the way. And he flames on in front of people he knows, so he knows they know. "Save this for future reference."

The Hulk - I mean the Thing - can have a little angst, as a treat. This one feels a little forced though.

I’m given to understand that Prince Namor the Sub-Mariner predates the Marvel Comics label, having been published in the 40s back when they were called Timely Comics. It’s funny to see Johnny read one of their own comics approximately twenty feet away from a guy who is totally not Namor, no way, jeez what even was on the cover of this issue ha ha

Wow, would you lookit that, that’d be Namor right on cue! Wait. Wait a gods-damned second. He can’t be.

He can’t be! But he is--! Are… are D&D elves aesthetically inspired by Namor? Or is that just a shared old-style idea of “inhuman beauty”, the high pronounced eyebrows and sharp, lengthy cheekbones? Or is it just that picture of Mialee in the Player’s Handbook that incidentally looks similar? Probably a mix of options 2 and 3. Namor turns out to be tough as nails, and elves in the earlier editions of D&D, well they certainly ain’t.

Meanwhile I really like this. Tons of people who still have no idea about capes, and so think they’re a hoax or fiction that’s been put in the wrong section of the library.

Sue does not know her own brother’s voice - you heard it here first. Johnny demonstrates for the first time his ability to reflexively “flame off” parts of his body that come into contact with others; we already saw him do a partial transformation when doing welding.

Namor meanwhile realizes that his undersea kingdom was demolished by an atomic weapons test (!!!!!!!) and he decides to defeat the surface world in retaliation. Also he’s kinda hunky : )

He unleashes “Giganto”, a mega-sized mix of whale and primate, to terrorize New York and it wrecks thru buildings once it makes landfall. Kind of surprised to see so much mass demolition this early into the comics. Anyways the Thing just requisitions a nuke (something the F4 can do, I guess), plunges into the beast, sets it off inside and makes it out safe. Namor beats all of them physically, but is obviously vanquished at the end. There is a notable moment in that fight, though, where when Namor spots Sue for the first time, he declaims that should she marry him, his feud w the surface world would be over. Gross!

This isn’t a bad issue. Namor’s fun cameo and promise to return set up a wider world, and he’s less one-dimensional than any of the villains so far. The Thing and Torch continue to provide the only real character of the quartet, though. The other two need to step up at some point.

[cedarbranch]

twenty questions for fic writers!

tagged by @sunriseverse thank you!!

tagging: @figbian @shark-myths @stoplightglow @zipegs and anyone else who wants to participate (with no pressure if you don't!) questions below the cut :-)

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

currently 65! i've orphaned several over the years though. unfortunately i am an Extremely Slow Writer so i always wanna see this number go up and it never goes as fast as i want it to :') we can hit 67 this year... surely....

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

847,778! used to be higher (more in the 950k range) prior to orphaning, i'm not sure if i've actually written over a million words or not at this point? v excited for the day that milestone actually shows up in my stats though! my current wips could tip me over, we'll see how it goes... 👀

3. what fandoms do you write for?

currently hannibal and stranger things! i've bounced around many fandoms in my day, but my most significant contributions thus far have been for mcr/bandom and the magnus archives. really hoping i end up writing enough for my current fandoms that i can consider them part of that shortlist too!! :-)

4. top five fics by kudos

like a moth to light (like a beast to bait) / 2117 kudos, save that heart for me / 1480 kudos, how particular, my fondness of you / 1445 kudos, convicted criminals of thought / 1177 kudos, and questionable decisions / 847 kudos! wow, that last one took me by surprise, it was such a jokey little fic i often forget about it. nice to look back at these and see things with over 1k kudos though, i remember that being an unattainable pipe dream back when i was writing mcr in the dead era that was 2017 :')

5. do you respond to comments?

i often do! i try to respond to every comment i get when a fic is published, and i like to respond much later on as well, it just tends to slip my mind if it's an older fic. stuff gets lost in my inbox. i certainly read every comment though, and the comments left on older fics are often the ones that make me happiest!

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmmm... i mostly write happy endings unless they're character studies. the true angstiest ending i've written is for a fic i haven't posted yet (hint: it's a sequel to a oneshot of mine!) but i do have short fics about both michael and gerry's deaths in tma? i'll go with the gerry death fic, thinking of the sun.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

they're mostly happy!!! but the one that ends most on a note of Joy, i think, would be rosemary and thyme, my fae!martin au :-)

8. do you get hate on fics?

nah. i have an extremely vague memory of getting a comment that made me go "omg my first hate comment" but like it's so vague that i can't tell if it's a false memory or not 😭 people have always been quite nice to me, thankfully!

9. do you write smut?

i do! i tried to avoid it whenever i could when i was younger but these days i've actually become super interested in sex as a vehicle for character studies. that tumblr post that's like "the plot of this smut fic is that character A believes himself abandoned by god" is one HUNDRED percent my approach recently, definitely expect some of that upcoming on my ao3 lolll

10. craziest crossover?

i don't really write crossovers! i like them in comic/fanart form, but i tend to be less interested in crossover fic (unless it's HEU, i do quite like spacedogs)... the only times i've ever thought about creating crossover content myself were for a couple pacrim fusion ideas!

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

eh, not really. a long time ago i did have someone basically rip the worldbuilding from one of my AUs with the serial numbers filed off, but they did ask permission - i said yes because i was like 16 and felt too awkward saying no. so that was weird! but not quite stealing.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

yes!! to steal a kiss from borrowed lips was translated into russian, such an honor :D

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

i have, a really long time ago. i don't think i would do it again (unless it was with, like, one of two specific irls) bc i think i'd struggle with figuring out a collaborative workflow. part of me also thinks it could be a fun exercise though...

14. all time favorite ship?

OUGH..... mannnn what a question. it changes every few years and i feel like my response is influenced by not just the source material, but the quality of the fan content and the fandom interactions i've had... you know what? i know i have current-hyperfixation bias, but for now i am gonna say hannigram. it's just too peak.

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Too Many Of Them - but in particular, my chrissy cunningham-centric longfic. it's an entire treatise on sapphic loneliness and small-town queer isolation and i do think it'd be a fucking masterpiece if i ever managed to commit to it, but it's on the forever back-burner i think.

16. what are your writing strengths?

hmm... characterization through dialogue is the main thing, i'd say. i'm always thinking about how to match a given character's speech patterns and i think i tend to capture their voices pretty well!

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

i'm my own biggest critic so i could list a bunch, but pacing is a big one. i tend to let things run too long and i feel like i've only just managed to balance it better in my current wip... only took a decade of fic-writing to get there 😭

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

depends a lot on context. honestly too many thoughts to condense well into an answer for this djglfg but in short: usually nice if it's just a few words, but can get unwieldy otherwise

19. first fandom you wrote in?

kuroshitsuji 💀 self-insert and OC-centric fic. how very unlike me

20. favorite fic you've written?

moth to light has been the reigning champ for a while now, but i think several of my current wips could potentially unseat it!