#movie mezzanine

[dinosaurwithablog]

I miss the grandeur of old-time movie theaters. They were as glamorous as the movies that they showed. There was a magical feeling being in one of them. It was exciting to be there and you also got to travel to wherever the movie that you were watching transported you. I used to love to go to the movies back then. I went a lot. The movies were better, and the theaters were better, too. It was a magical experience ✨️

Celluloid Dreams: America’s Vanishing Movie Palaces

In the words of the artist Stefanie Klavens:

During Hollywood’s golden age—the 1920s through 1940s—nearly every American city and town had its own movie palace. Whether an extravagant, neon-clad jewel or of more modest proportion, the neighborhood theater was the anchor of the community’s social and economic life. Designed in a wide range of flamboyant architectural styles, America’s historic theaters have entertained millions, first as vaudeville houses and later as movie theaters. These lavish theaters offered moviegoers an escape from hard times into a world of illusion during the Depression. But as the post-World War II boom fed migration to sprawling suburbs, many downtown palaces fell into disrepair or closed. Multiplexes later presented stiff competition for single-screen theaters by offering a choice of films at one convenient location. The downtown theater, with only one auditorium and screen, could no longer compete. Some of these architectural treasures have been saved, finding new life as performing-arts centers, but most have been lost forever. These early theaters represent a unique architectural resource that is rapidly vanishing from the nation’s landscape. In fact, in 2001, the National Trust for Historic Preservation placed the single-screen historic theater atop its Most Endangered Historic Places list.

Images and text via

[transformers-spike]

"Is this why the Autobots are fond of humanity? To indulge their sweet heat cycles? How many human mates has Optimus taken for himself? It seems as though their motives to protect them were never altruistic, much less noble." PLEASE, PLEASE GIVE US A SUB-STORY WHERE THIS TIME IT'S OPTIMUS AND A HUMAN SO IN THEIR HEAT CYCLE PLEASEEEE

Idk am I creating a humans in heat universe for the TF Fandom? I know people like making the bots go through it but I think the humans being affected is so much funnier. Just begging these massive robots to fuck us lmao

How must it feel to burn from the inside out? Betrayed by your own body, rendered unable to function by the fire in your core. You described it as an aching, an insatiable need to appease the hormones overtaking your nerve endings. A mere touch is enough to worsen the ache, it’s what your body dictates in the throes of a heat cycle.

Cybertronians are forged by Primus Himself, their interfaces exist for recreational pleasure and bonding, but your species is biologically programmed to reproduce, like most of the fauna of your planet. It’s a systemic sacrifice, one rendered obsolete by the sentient status of your species. Drugs have been produced to suppress your heats, or at least lessen the effects. Unfortunately, among a dozen varieties of medication, you are either allergic or completely immune to them, leaving you susceptible to your hormonal whims. He is sorry. You must go through so much pain every few months, but you barely show it, brushing off his concerns with a laugh, saying “it is what it is” and moving on as though your body isn’t on a timer. He admires you for it. In spite of your discomfort, you haven’t given up. Once, you told him: “So what if they don’t work on me? I just gotta roll with the punches and hope for the best, it’s been my M.O. since I got the damn thing.” Meeting them for the first time… was turbulent to say the least, but you’re safe and sound, relocated to Jasper, having adjusted to your new life with the help of Agent Fowler. You’ve told them many times you’re infinitely grateful to be in their lives (barring the near death experience at the servos of an Insecticon). For them it’s a pleasure to ease your burden. You’ve eagerly established your consent, although only Arcee is the right size to properly take care of a human. Digits and glossas can only do so much compared to a spike. He tries not to pry, your privacy is yours to divulge at your leisure, but he cannot ignore the charge building up behind his interface when he sees you with the others. Yes, he is an occasional participant, but he will rather cover shifts and allow them some well-deserved respite in your berth. They deserve it. He dares not imagine Arcee’s spike pumping in and out of you, satiating your aching body, filling you to your limit as you beg for more. 

Your scent lingers in the air, caressing his sensors, a gentle hand tugging him along by the servo, pulling him in your direction. They try to keep it to themselves, but his team is beyond a doubt intoxicated by your presence alone. Thankfully, it has (almost) never impeded their judgment during missions; perhaps it has even served as motivation to make it back to base in one piece. He tries to ignore the gleam in his old friend’s optics after quelling your urges, if only for a night. Or Bumblebee's praises coming to you as a slow stream of beeps while he nuzzles your face. Or Bulkhead cradling you to his chassis like a precious artifact as you discuss what late night movies you should watch. Or catching Arcee kissing you over the mezzanine and pulling back with a smile she hasn’t worn since Cliffjumper’s death. You bring them together in your own special way, even if you blush and sheepishly deny it, claiming you should be thanking them instead  Recent discoveries have yielded an impressive increase in energon and brought forth new opportunities. With unparalleled quantities at their disposal, they can now mass displace. The transformation is no small feat, it exhausts their system and rapidly drains their energon level. But he will not forbid Bumblebee from using it to play with the kids as long as it’s not in excess. Nor to join you during heat cycles. Much like Bulkhead. And Wheeljack. And especially Ratchet. Primus forbid, his old friend has every right to enjoy himself to the fullest after all of his back-breaking work. He’s been meaning to pay you a visit, but he hasn’t found the time until now. In the temporary abode you set up in the base, away from the prying eyes of the kids, you prepare yourself for another heat. Some refurbishing was done to meet your needs (in no small thanks to June Darby and agent Fowler’s financial help); the mattress and the mini fridge was a given, but you’ve added a variety of personal belongings and entertainment; a television, a writing desk, a few “bean bags” here and there, and a pile of old magazines to scrapbook. He wonders if you consider this place your home more than your actual house in Jasper. You greet him while downing a bottle of water, holding up your hand to signal for him to wait. Once emptied, you place it next to the mini fridge, among a wide array of bottled water crates. That would explain the groceries June had brought in with Arcee’s help. As a medical professional she’s especially fretful over your condition, doing her best to prevent the risks of heat cycles, bringing you plenty of calorie dense fuel to combat the massive loss of nutrients. He has not forgotten the fear they experienced when they found you shaking from the deficit, having completely overlooked your hunger in a midst of desperation. In this form, he can appreciate the full extent of your body without fear of hurting you, kneading the supple flesh beneath his digits as you giggle and pull him into you. He does not tower over your reclined form as much as he encases you in a careful hug, hearing the rapid thrum of your human spark directly against his audials; he may sense your pulse rate, but experiencing it is a new wonder of its own. You tell him you missed him and you wish he would let himself go and come out to “obliterate your pussy” more often. He nods and apologizes for his absence even as you shush him and insist he enjoy himself as well. He is… the largest Cybertronian you’ve taken, you remark while adjusting to his size.

“Except maybe Wheeljack,” you add cheekily, already bucking into him. Your composure evaporates as he works you up, not to say that he is much better. He steadies himself over you, charge trickling down his interface as your walls clench around him in a vice-grip. You beg him for more, plead that he frag you until you can’t take it anymore, but he has grown used to your requests and knows when your body has reached its limit. You whimper and claw at his back plates, flush against his frame yet dragging him closer as though to merge your human spark to his.

If only he could.

Slow and steady, he frags you through your overloads, each one adding a new surge of spark down his frame until he comes to his end. You are small and shaking, but in this form he can properly hold you against his chassis and comfort you through the afterglow, bringing you another bottle of water and a Clif bar (chosen for the human scaling a mountain with “If you eat this you can kill God” in big bold letters).

You stir and sit up on shaky knees to accept his offerings. Halfway through your meal, you eye him up and down.

“Are you going to stay some more?” you ask with hopefulness, still chewing on the “ultimate nuts and banana power” concoction advertised on the packaging.

“I’m afraid not, Ratchet has been hard at work deciphering Decepticon encryptions, I will be taking on his duties for the night,” he tries to break it gently, expecting crushed expectations, not your bemused expression looking up at him.

“So you’re sending him my way?” You give a chuckle. “Wish we could have spent more time together, but work is work. Just…” you crawl into his lap and hug him as tight as you can, head resting against his chassis. “Please come back tomorrow. Or after tomorrow. I miss seeing you this way. I won’t get between you and… whatever you have going on, but please visit me more often. You have no idea how nice it feels to be around you.” His gaze softens, glowing faintly against your hair. “So I’ve been told,” he says, a smile on his lips. “As long as it lightens your burden.”

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Found a gamer's dream home. It's an ultra modern 2016 home in Reunion, FL - $5.8M + $633mo. HOA, but you get your own casino, plus a game room, and 11bds, 14ba. Check out this luxury.

Do you like blue? The entrance foyer has nice blue wallpaper and look at the lights. As you soon as you enter, put in your security codes. I like the white marble floors, too.

This long area has a black wall with marble inserts and a black & white coffered ceiling. There's room for a seating area across from the huge kitchen counter.

I like that the kitchen isn't too open. It makes it cozier.

This is nice. Needs a little color, though. But, that's all cosmetic, you put your taste on it, it's a blank slate.

The kitchen is so large, that there's another sitting area on the other side of the counter.

And, then there's the everyday dining room with a view of the pool.

Plus, a larger formal dining room.

Then, check this out. It's like a casino hotel. You eat, then go play. I love the carpet.

For the gamers, there's the Arcade. Look at all the neon. Can you imagine having something like this?

Here's a large electric sauna with a shower.

And, a home gym.

This room could be the primary. Doors open to a covered terrace.

A large en-suite.

Covered patio by the pool has a built-in counter.

Very nice stairs and mezzanine.

This is cute- a nautical themed kids room with 4 beds.

Then, we have casino #2. Can you picture mom and grandma sitting at your slots?

A big lounge.

Plus a kitchenette with a movie screen and a table for 12.

And, the home movie theater with a stage.

Check out the kid's Jurassic Park themed room.

The pool lights up purple.

It's on a .27 acre lot. About 1/4 acre. Well, it's not much to maintain.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1125-Grand-Traverse-Pkwy-Reunion-FL-34747/130961364_zpid

[lina-vas-dom]

Нежность. Имбирь. Корица. Баночки с перцем и солью. Хочется в зиму влюбиться, Звёзды достать с антресолей… Свечи. Гирлянды. Подарки. Старые киноленты, Хочется жизнь сделать яркой, Важных добавить акцентов. Тёмные ночи украсить, Праздник носить с собой всюду, Хочется быть чьим-то счастьем И новогодним чудом. /Алеся Синеглазая

Tenderness. Ginger. Cinnamon. Jars of pepper and salt. I want to fall in love with winter, I want to pull the stars from the mezzanine Candles. Garlands. Gifts. Old movies, I want to make life bright To add accents that matter To brighten up the dark nights I want to carry the holiday with me everywhere I wanna be someone's happiness And a New Year's miracle. / Alesya Blue-Eyed

[evan-collins90]

Sam Goody stores at Universal CityWalk & Horton Plaza (1993 & 1995)

"The synthesis of three distinct merchandising departments for the new Sam Goody store at the Universal Citywalk exhibits a design of dynamic expression by the Jerde Partnership design team.

The new building sits on the center court of an outdoor shopping mall in Southern California. Representing the three merchandising concepts of Sam Goody, the design pronounces each area through unique and interrelated façades.

The customer enters the Popular Music department through an animated, neon-accented color plaster façade. The entrance to the Classics department and the upstairs Coffee Cafe is between two 40 foot high, 10 foot in diameter Corinthian columns within an interpretative classical façade. A 35 foot high, two-dimensional profile sign depicting King Kong climbing the face of a black and metallic bronze tile building hangs over the entrance to Suncoast Motion Picture Company (video).

The central sales environment is referred to as Backstage, and has the character and atmosphere of a soundstage/studio. The two-story space is defined by upper level catwalks and the destination mezzanine known as the Coffee Cafe. A three-dimensional, walk-through Media Wall features music advertising, photos, oversized images, photo lightboxes, video monitors, projected music videos, reader boards and graphic elements.

Media events are orchestrated throughout the day in an ever-changing environment that depicts the trends of popular music and movies. Weather reports, current events and promotional messages continuously scroll by on the reader boards. In-store performances, CD signings and record promotions bring a sense of "an event" to the store. A live VJ/DJ controls all aspects of the store's music and video media, and interacts with the customers.

On a floating piano-shaped level, the Classics department features a state-of-the-art inventory of classical and jazz selections and creates a controlled, intimate area for the customer with special acoustics, localized sound systems, listening stations and lighting. In the Suncoast Motion Picture Company department, tall video columns accent the environment, supporting the sale of videos and laserdiscs. Interspersed throughout the department are video monitors creating the effect of video confetti.

The Coffee Cafe features a wide variety of interactive listening stations and media experiences. It is intended to be an intimate environment where the customer can pause, enjoy the fare, engage in conversation and take in views of the store as well as the street below through its windows."

Designed by The Jerde Partnership

Scanned from: Stores - Retail Display & Design (1997), Great Store Design 2 (1996), Shops & Boutiques (1994)

[chronically-ghosted]

Hey I love you and I’m having thots about vampire!Dieter and his hedonistic lifestyle and his lavish parties at his estate and how he invites you up to show you his private rooms and he-

Oh, you mean like when he asks you about your--

Pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

Warnings: flirting, a bit of blood, maybe dubcon due to The Thrall but i think it's safe to say we all want It from vampire!dieter, unbeta-ed because i needed to write something or someone was going to die

A/N: look at what you've done @sp00kymulderr you've gone and given a perfectly good fic LORE

“Theories.”

“What?” 

Dieter’s smirk pulls his mouth and his head towards the floor-to-ceiling windows. He rubs his fingers together, his wrist dangling over the edge of the deep-backed leather chair. The clean lines of his Armani pants and wing-tipped shoes give him the impression of leaning forward, as if he intended to tumble right through those windows and out into the party below. The music is muted, smothered, but the lights illuminate the sky like the sun beneath the waves. 

“Your theories. About all of this. About my dad, granddad. Everyone who’s ever walked in here – press or not –,” he lazily drags his gaze up from your ass to your tits for the third time that night, “– has had some wild theories that I just love to listen to. Little bedtime stories to put me to sleep. So let’s hear ‘em.”

You had doubts about this dress when you left your apartment but you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep from tugging it back down over your thighs because you know you have something every time Dieter looks at you. Maybe not for long, but you might be the first person in fifty years to walk out of here with something to say.

Your heart suddenly fluttering higher in your throat, you turn away towards the movie memorabilia lining the walls in glass shelves to give him the angle he’s been inching towards all night. Over your shoulder, you see his eyes drop – predictably. You let the line out a bit more and bend at the waist to examine the original glove from The Natural. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard them all, Mr. Bravo. The mystery around your family is nearly as old as Hollywood itself so I’m sure there’s nothing I can say that you haven’t heard before. Which reminds me . . .” You straighten up and, by some miracle, he meets your eyes, gaze no longer wandering. “Why me?” 

His mouth curls, but it’s the glint in his eyes that shows razor-sharp teeth. 

“I’ve always admired the brevity of wit, but you’re going to have to be more specific.”

Your jacket creaks when you cross your arms, eyebrow arched. “I’ve been with The Mezzanine for five years with half-a-dozen bylines under my belt. There’s a list of more experienced reporters a mile long. Why, after ignoring every press inquiry for the past twenty years, did you ask me to interview you? Oh, and consider this my first official question.” 

With an expansive inhale, Dieter draws himself to his feet. He takes a few steps towards the windows, just before the light catches the shine of his shoes. 

“Give me a theory and I’ll answer your question.”

You frown at his broad shoulders. Streaks of fuschia and green and gold tangle in his curls, setting the ends on fire. You think of those electric lamps under your grandfather’s porch that drew in moths with dust brown wings. Moths that ended up dead on the wooden floor. 

You find yourself inches from his left shoulder. 

“That’s not how these things usually go, Mr. Bravo.” 

“Humor the old hermit.” He grins and the smell of spice and smoke and lineage blooms in your nose. You school your face, swallowing down your beating heart. 

“The mob. So why me?”

Dieter chuckles. “The mob?”

“Happened to Frank Sinatra, didn’t it?”

“I don’t appreciate the comparison,” Dieter sneers. “Blue Eyes was an asshole and an idiot.”

You turn towards him, your turn to grin. “Speaking from personal experience?”

“Yes, actually.” 

“Unbelievable.” You roll your eyes and wander back towards the cabinet. It’s now you notice the odd placement of the couch and chairs in front of the memorabilia. As if hours were spent staring at them. “Do you have anything to drink?”

Dieter blinks at you. “Uh. No. Do you want me to call up for one?”

“No, Mr. Bravo, I want you to answer my question: why me?”

“Because you care.”

Dieter turns away from the lights, the music, the night and stares at you. The teasing sparkle, the sardonic grin – they’re gone. A different man stands before you – one with the same beautiful set of curls, with the same soft eyes. But you see something on his face you didn’t think was possible: yearning. 

“Everyone who ever came here only wanted a piece of me. Of this. Of my legacy. In fifty years, no one has ever wanted to know the magic in the movies. The magic of . . .” Dieter laughs quietly, joylessly. He looks around and runs his tongue against his upper teeth. “The mob? C’mon, you can do better than the mob.”

You take a step forward. Electric lamps be damned.

“I’m doing a terrible job of interviewing you.”

“Hardly.” His lips pout before pulling back into a grin. “We’re getting to know each other.”

Another step. 

“One for one?”

“Of course.”

“Then in debt to the US government for World War II propaganda. Why did your grandfather step out of the spotlight at the peak of his career?”

“Ford was as much a nazi as any of them and no Bravo would ever stoop so low, so no. And Grandpappy Bravo had health issues.”

“He was forty-five.”

“Forty-two, actually. The same age I am now.” He grins down at you and you find yourself staring up at him. Had his eyes always had that golden circle in the center?

“Give me another theory.”

“Drugs – boring but reliable. Why was your father so secretive about his role as a financial backer during the 60s movie revival?”

“He hated the attention, as much as a Bravo can. You’re getting closer.”

“It was drugs?” You tear your gaze that had somehow slipped to his lips back up to his eyes, but Dieter shakes his head.

“A drug of some kind, but not the kind you’re thinking of. A powerful drug. The most powerful.”

“Yeah? And what would that be?”

“Life itself.” Again, you see his teeth and without your control, your heart leaps into your throat. You narrow your eyes against the brilliant light of his mouth.

“Why do you care so much about my theories?”

“Because you’re not asking the right questions. You’re close, but not quite.” 

His hand floats against your jaw, fingertips crackling in the millimeter above your skin, and that spicy scent floods your brain in a sudden avalanche that makes your knees wobble. You huff, dizzy, a fog settling across your mind, and you put a hand against his chest to keep you from stumbling. His thumb drags against your bottom lip and that bright sensation becomes a focus point by which the entire universe revolves around. 

His eyes are entirely golden now.

“Ask the question you’ve been begging to, darling.”

You swallow through the haze, through the pounding of your heart, through the heaviness of your knees, and the wetness in your underwear. 

“No,” you mumble, “I . . . Dieter, you’ll laugh.”

“Try me, sweetheart.” His other hand joins his first, cradling your jaw, dragging you closer. “I want to hear it.”

“I think you’re a vampire.” The words dribble off your numb lips but even through the lag, you know you’ve screwed up. Something has gummed up the crevices of your brain, but that’s not the thing to say to the highly-eccentric social recluse you’ve put your career at risk to interview. 

“Dieter, I’m sorry – I-I-I didn’t mean–,”

But he laughs. Laughs and your moth wings get caught in the light of the white gleam of his fangs. His hand slips to your waist as his thumb brushes your cheek, golden eyes anything but angry.

“I knew you were clever.” 

Your nails dig into his jacket where you don’t feel a heartbeat. Your knees want you to fall forward into him, but your elbows struggle as the last shreds of a survival instinct. 

“Dieter–,”

“Shh, darling, you are smart. Too smart for your own good. You knew the truth the second you walked in here and you did it anyway. But that big brain won’t let you believe it until you see it, so breathe, darling. Breath and it will be over in a minute.”

He lowers his face, his cold breath against your neck cracking through the haze, icing your heart. You whimper, afraid –

Afraid he’s going to kill you.

Afraid that you’ll let him.

A warm tongue saturates the skin of your neck and you realize there are devil faces in the wood carving of the ceiling, your head tipped back and arms wrapped around his shoulders. 

“No crying. I will make this very good for you.” 

You blink and the ice in your heart melts out the corner of your eyes, tears running off your cheeks.

“Will I die?”

Dieter lets out a noise that’s a whine and a groan all at once. “No. We’re not nearly done having fun.”

And he bites you.

Euphoria erupts across your skin, an electric pulse waking up every sense still left in your control. You shudder, then draw him closer. He groans, not a single drop of blood escaping to the carpet or your shirt or his jacket. He eats well and clean and there’s a part of you that entertains the idea of him losing control. 

But as quickly as it comes on, everything fades. Blackness comes on, thick and fast, and you hear him pull off your neck more than you feel it and his tongue is the last sensation you feel. 

“No, darling, by the end of this, you’ll be begging me for more.”

His promise is the last thing you hear before the darkness closes in on you completely. 

+

[allaroundjejje]

Couple of Fruits and Space Cowboy

Part 1

It’s the usual set up for a drug deal. Big, empty warehouse out of corrugated steel. Tangerine and his brother Lemon were hired to get the money back to the buyer in a drug deal going down. Nothing new. A walk in the park Tangerine thought to himself.

The only thing that was different about this job was that they didn’t know who had hired them. All they knew was that they were getting paid a lot of money. "This mystery man is willing to pay us what we're worth” Tangerine had said to Lemon when they were offered the job.

They sat behind old boxes and other crap that luckily enough was left on the mezzanine level in the warehouse, providing enough shelter for the two assasins to stay out of sight from the druglord and his crew while they waited for their moment to grab the money.

"Oi, isn't that that guy from that movie?" Lemon said nudging Tangerine with his elbow as he saw Tom Ryder in the scope of his sniper rifle staking out the scene. Tom strolled up wearing a yellow beanie, sunglasses and a way to expensive blue tracksuit out of velvet. Like no one was gonna recognize him in that.

"What's that now?" Tangerine answered his brother absentmindedly just spotting the woman walking in to the warehouse. Tangerine wasn't a believer of love, let alone love at first sight, he couldn't be in his line of work. So whatever he felt for the woman must be instant attraction he told himself. He was snapped out of his thoughts when he saw who the woman was walking next to.

Tangerine rolled not just his eyes but basically his entire body when he saw Tom. "Don't tell me that's the prick who hired us?" he said pinching the bridge of his nose. "Looks like it" Lemon said with an amused smile on his face, knowing his brothers disliking of the actor, as he continued scoping out the scene.

This is my first ever fanfiction. Hopefully this is just part one! I hope you guys like it 🧡 Inspired by this post

@vicky342 @eefos tagging you guys in case you want to read this 🧡

Part two

Part three

Part four

Part five

Part six

Part seven Part eight

[formosusiniquis]

this doesn't have a title cause it's late and I have work in the morning. this is a surprise gift for @cauldronoflove cause her fic last week and the whatever is going on with this show did something to my brain (positive) wc: 860 | T | pre-Max/Avery/Tristan (odt3?)

“Welcome to Eyes Wide Shut week, doctor.” Tristan's smile pulls up higher on the right side, Max’s side, as he wiggles his fingers in a wave at a woman boarding. Her dress is tight as her hold on her husband's arm. She's older than him, easily old enough to be Tristan’s mother.

“Don't call it that,” Avery chides, still it's hard not to miss the amusement that sparkles in her eyes.

“That's the Tom Cruise movie?” He finds himself asking. He hadn't read the briefing, he never reads the briefing, far preferring this rundown where his experienced team tells him what he actually needs to know.

“So he knows the finer details of the Barbie Dreamhouse but not one of the best Cruise films to date?” Tristan muses.

That earns an actual reaction from Avery. Max can feel the smile playing on his own lips as her eyes widen and she leans enough to see around him to stare at Tristan, mouth dropped open just a breath in her disbelief. “Not Interview with the Vampire?”

“I did say ‘one of.’ I can like more than one thing.”

“Oh yes, I forgot you hit two of the B's for your little poker game.”

The quip is right there for the taking and something about the two of them has made it harder and harder for Max to resist taking. “Our Tristan is pretty butch, isn’t he?”

Pleasure ripples across Tristan’s face instinctually accepting the compliment implied with the claim before the next wave crashes over top of it, him catching the tease.

“Funny.” There’s a charm to his scowl. If Tristan weren’t so handsome when he was mad, he wouldn’t be so fun to rile up. As it stands, there’s a light in his eyes as he plans his next comeback, and the tight draw of his brow somehow compliments the line of his jaw. “Maybe you'll find someone who appreciates your wit during this year’s swingers week.”

“That’s what this week is?” He can feel his smile in his cheeks and his eyebrows arching up his hairline. In the milieu beneath their feet he watches with fresh eyes the way the boarding couples greet one another. The way greetings linger, hands on elbows and kisses pressed to cheeks.

“Officially,” Avery says, a warning note in her voice that the fondness on her face betrays, “we are hosting high ranking guests from several fraternal orders.”

“And unofficially?”

“Priapism is the diagnosis of the week.”

A grin that's all boarding school charm melts across Tristan's face. “Good thing for your steady hands, Doctor Odyssey.”

His own smile turns small, his face feels warm as he takes his eyes off his crew and looks back down at the boarding passengers. Faces with the bland similarity that he associates with wealth and power. A former Midwestern Senator moving around the floor holds his focus but not his attention.

That is devoted to the memory of Avery, laid out on his table. His fingers alongside Tristan’s inside her, her life in their hands.

“I thought swingers were couples.”

“Yes, that’s the point.” Avery says.

“No, I just mean that couple was just making eyes at Tristan.”

“Some are just looking for a third,” he says, lips twisting into something coy. “Have you ever known me to deny a damsel in distress?”

The former Senator has found the woman that smiled up at them in the mezzanine. A scowl has found Max’s face and his hand has found Avery’s. Their knuckles graze against one another, seeking comfort in a way that’s becoming increasingly common. He thinks he could pick their hands, strong and sure, out of a line up. 

He understands more than ever the bright flashes of green eye irritation every time he and Avery emerged from a room with a locked door. Tristan laid out against white sheets with… He doesn’t even want to finish the thought.

“Don’t tell me you’re a prude, doctor.” A coy smile grows wider, teasing. Mirth and something Max has come to recognize as curiosity dance across his face, in the lines beside his eyes. 

Tristan keeps his attention on Max, but with every brush of hand against hand he knows his answer will be for both himself and Avery.

“Personally, I think the only couple I’ll worry about pleasing this week are my nurses.”

It’s not been long, but they react the way he would have predicted. Avery scoffs, smacks the back of his hand with hers before crossing her arms across her chest, playing at annoyance and disapproval. Tristan, who’s need for approval and fickle attachment Max understands much better after meeting his mother, gapes any witty retort he might have managed stolen by the blatant way the thing they have been dancing around has now been laid out like a patient on the operating table.

“Now, is there anything other than fine gauge needles we should be preparing? Antibiotics? Some compresses? Condoms?”

As he wanders toward the elevator his team follows. The previous topic not forgotten but transmuted, changed in his favor like the tide beneath him. It’s something he thinks he could get used to.

[mazarinememories]

About the Blog & the Author Behind It

The Blog:

This blog's primary focuses include: Star Trek (The Original Series and TOS films), the Spirk ship (Kirk/Spock), other variations of ships of the triumvirate (Spones, McKirk, and McSpirk), and anything regarding Leonard Nimoy, the actor who portrayed Spock in Star Trek: TOS.

The blog was created to showcase the blog author's creations and contributions to the Star Trek fandom (coming soon, I promise). It's also to record other important contributions to the fandom; such as artwork, fanfiction, music, zines, memes, edits, behind-the-scenes facts and photos, as well as TV show and movie screen caps and scenes.

The blog was first created on November 20, 2023, but not revamped until July 16, 2024 for the Star Trek fandom.

IMPORTANT NOTE: This blog occasionally features text and images that are NSFW, so minors be warned (you can still interact with me, but just be wary of any adult-themed content you might see on my blog). It's also not spoiler-free -- proceed with caution!

Reason for the URL:

Mazarine: being one of the names of the author of the blog, meaning "deep blue color".

Memories: the author has always had a fascination with psychology and memories. This is also a nod to the many decades of hard work, passion, and dedication from many of the cast, writers, filming crew, and fans who kept this series alive; the legacy of multiple forms of art left behind; and the inspiration of many people to pursue STEM careers and further the advancement of human society.

The words put together: the memories of the blog's author that give them a reason to live, to be strong, to be logical, to never give up despite the hardships of life, and to leave the world a better place than when they first entered it. The URL also has a nostalgic feel to it, as the series is a source of nostalgia for some.

The title:

Ad Astra Per Aspera is Latin for "through hardship to the stars". Not only is it a personal favorite motto of the blog's author, it's also a most fitting quote for Star Trek's philosophy.

Tag system:

#about mazarineasc: Anything about the author. ('About' on site.)

#mazzy's logs: The author's thoughts and experiences in the Trekkie fandom. ('Logs' on site.)

#mazzy's asks: Any asks sent to this blog or any asks the author sends to other blogs. ('Interactions' on site.)

#mazzy's oeuvre: Original work by Mazarine, including: fanart, fics, vids/edits, audio, etc. ('Oeuvre' on site.)

#mazzy's posts: Original posts by Mazarine. ('OG Posts' on site.)

And the author makes their entrance...

My name is Mazarine A.S.C. (Mazarine Alcine Severen-Cress). I also go by Mazz, Mazzy, Mazzy Star (like the band), and Masc. (Someone once called me 'Mezzanine' and I accept that too, I like Massive Attack.) I'm a fic writer as well as a fledgling vidder and archivist. I'm also an active participator of KiScon as well as their Discord server as of July 2024.

I'm 22 years old, genderfluid/nonbinary, and a certified lover of women and enbies. My preferred pronouns are they/them/theirs.

About my name: I chose this moniker to identify myself because I wanted a unique, debonair, gender-neutral name that had the same vibes as Yves Saint Laurent or Christian Dior (not that I shop those brands but it's to give you a good picture of what I was trying to go for).

The meanings of each name are as follows:

Mazarine: Deep blue color. Feminine and French origin. The hex code for the mazarine color is 273c76.

Alcine: Strong-willed. Gender-neutral and Greek origin. (I found it when trying to look for 'witchy' names.)

Severen: Stern, severe, austere. Masculine and Latin origin.

Cress: From atop of the hill. Gender-neutral and French origin.

I like to think that when the names are put together, it means: "The stern witch from atop the deep blue hill."

My profile picture is a cropped image of one of the pictures displayed in the New York Times article regarding the death of Leonard Nimoy. (Note: the article is paywalled.)

About Mazarine the Trekkie

How Mazarine Got Into Star Trek:

I was first introduced to Star Trek like many other people have been: their relative putting on a few episodes of The Original Series or The Next Generation on TV during childhood and watching in awe as the characters solved problems in a futuristic time on a weird and wonky planet and learning a lot about themselves along the way.

I didn't truly pursue an interest in Star Trek until 2020, however. But months before I started watching the series, I stumbled upon an interesting fanvid... that's right: "Closer". Because I had no clue what exactly it all meant ("What if they never returned to Vulcan in time?" and all the spicy clips of two men going at it), I was very confused, but fascinated! I was already quite interested in mlm and yaoi content and had harbored such interests for years before encountering that video. I didn't know at all that Kirk and Spock were shipped, let alone of how much of a legacy and impact it had left.

It wasn't until the night of September 1, 2020 (I theorize that's the exact date), that I started watching TOS. I'm someone who prefers to watch in release order because I believe that's the best way to understand a franchise. This was back when Netflix carried all of the Star Trek shows and movies. It was in the midst of the pandemic and I was starting college. I had plenty of time on my hands apart from online schooling and freelance work, so why not start watching shows and movies I had been meaning to try? I decided to start with Star Trek. I was in my living room and I found The Original Series, and selected the very first episode: "The Cage". I found it cerebral, but interesting; I kept watching despite how cheesy the 60s production value was.

Never in my life had I seen a single show from the 60s at that time, except for The Twilight Zone. The production style was completely new to me: it was colorful, the sounds were softer than today's TV shows, and it had so much more dialogue. It was engaging even for my bad attention span. The writing of the characters was so intricate and life-like, it was no wonder the show caused such a mania and cult following.

I mostly used it as background noise whenever I did work, chores, or creating art. I was still able to pick up what was going on thanks to the frequency of the show's dialogue. In time, Spock and his suave ways began to grow on me. I noticed the way Kirk and Spock interacted with each other and began taking a liking to their friendship. Eventually, I began shipping them a little bit.

One night, I was doing some scrapbooking and I had Star Trek on. Dr. McCoy was voicing his concerns about Spock to Captain Kirk and Nurse Chapel was running out of Spock's room while he was yelling at her. The Vulcan stormed out, and his face looked so angry. I snapped my head up from my journal and my eyes were instantly glued to the screen. Now this, I HAD to watch.

My art abandoned, I watched with great interest as Spock reluctantly explained to his commanding officer that he needed to take an early leave because of a fatal condition that came every seven years and could only be satiated via coitus. I gazed with anticipation as T'Pau approached, as T'Pring declared Kal-if-fee, and when Kirk was then made to battle his first officer and best friend to the death. I leered at the screen as they fought, their theatrical movements and bodies rolling in the sand putting me in a trance. Kirk's shirt tears in a place I had no idea I needed to see. I watched in horror as Spock eventually, and inevitably, delivered the final fatal blow.

"Well, what the fuck are they gonna do now? Kirk is dead!" I thought to myself.

T'Pau bade him Live Long and Prosper. Spock forlornly responded, "I shall do neither."

My heart palpitated with an indescribable feeling upon hearing that. In sickbay, Spock was about to relinquish his authority, then I smiled like an idiot as Kirk came up right behind him.

"Don't you think you better check with me first?"

"Captain... Jim!"

And thus, a trekkie is born.

I literally GASPED out loud, hands covering my mouth, eyes going wide as saucers. He smiled. He fucking smiled. And a real smile this time -- not one caused by drugs or one of those slight smiles of amusement! A real, motherfucking smile! Oh, it was beautiful. Thank you so much, Nimoy!

The episode concluded with McCoy's sarcastic remark, and I'm left sitting in my chair giggling like crazy. Spock became my favorite character that night; and Nimoy, my most favorite actor of all time.

A moment later, it hit me like a truck: the "Closer" video! My eyes went wide as I suddenly remembered the video and then I pieced the puzzle together.

"I ship it." I whispered happily to myself.

Then, came the falling down the rabbit hole: the 3 AM fanfiction readings, the hours of perusing Tumblr blogs, hunting down rare Star Trek paraphernalia, cosplaying, discovering KiScon, and eventually joining the KiScon Discord server and making a lot of wonderful friends there, on Twitter, and Tumblr. Now I'm here, writing this About Me page to pin at the top so you can groan at how long this is. Thanks for putting up with me.

The show gave me a sense of optimism during the heavy turmoil of 2020 as it did for those in the 60s. Like many others, it inspired me to get into STEM, so I changed my course of study years after starting college and began teaching myself statistics, programming, and medicine.

I love being a Trekkie. I love that the fandom still persists to this day despite it dwindling, but I thank the internet for keeping it alive and well and warmly welcoming new people with open arms. I enjoyed watching my brother get into Star Trek, and now we can't stop quoting the original films to each other. The impact it has even to this day is timeless and unreplicable. It's art in itself. Gene Roddenberry claimed he was no guru, but it doesn't take anything less than a genius to create what he did.

Favorites:

Character: Spock (TOS version)

Show in the series: The Original Series

Films: The Motion Picture, V: The Final Frontier

Favorite episodes: "Amok Time" (S2E1), "I, Mudd" (S2E8), "The Corbomite Maneuver" (S1E10), "The Menagerie" (S1E12/13), and "Assignment: Earth" (S2, E26)

Ship pairing: Spirk (Kirk x Spock, or K/S, or "The Premise")

Show tropes: the way Kirk looks at Spock, Spock and Bones bickering

Fanfic tropes: old married Spirk, pon farr, domestic life (living together in San Francisco or the flop in "The City on the Edge of Forever")

Quote: "Logic clearly dictates that the needs of the many far outweigh the needs of the few." "Or the one." "You are my superior officer. You are also my friend. I have been and always shall be yours." (The Wrath of Khan)

Scenes of all time: When Spock Realizes Kirk Isn't Dead, Spock Motivates Kirk to Take Command, Spock's Arrival on the Enterprise, This Simple Feeling, It Gives Me Emotional Security

Favorite fanart: I Shall Do Neither by Nox Zaiden

Favorite fanfiction: And Filled With Tomorrows by Android_And_Ale (Pairing: Kirk/Spock, Rated: E, Words: 5,886, Published: March 22, 2024)

About Mazarine Themselves:

Interests:

Star Trek: TOS

Wong Kar Wai films

Portishead (90s band formed in England)

60s gogo dancers

Geisha and maiko (Japanese culture)

Psychology and mental health

Art history

LGBTQIA+ history

Writing (poetry, plays, and fanfics)

Documentaries/docuseries of literally anything

Favorite Things:

Colors: mazarine blue, sky blue, indigo, lavender, mauve, jade green, seafoam green, ivory, black, and vermillion

Singers/Bands: Portishead, Fleetwoood Mac, Björk, Massive Attack, Mazzy Star, Röyksopp, Daft Punk, The Flaming Lips, David Bowie, Garbage, Nirvana, The xx

Song: "Glory Box" (Portishead, 1994)

Music Genres: house, trip-hop, electronica, jazz, classic rock, industrial, k-pop, alternative/indie, lofi, vaporwave, 60s garage rock, and anything 70s, 80s, and 90s.

Actors: Leonard Nimoy, Michelle Reis, Winona Ryder, Angelina Jolie, Lauren Bacall

Authors: Franz Kafka, Sylvia Plath, Margaret Atwood, V.E. Schwab, Oscar Wilde, Edgar Allen Poe

Films: Fallen Angels (Wong Kar Wai, 1995), Frances Ha (Noah Baumbach, 2013), 2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick, 1968), American Graffiti (George Lucas, 1973), World of Tomorrow (Don Hertzfeldt, 2015), Deathwatch (Vic Morrow, 1965)

TV Shows: Star Trek (TOS), Arrested Development, Parks and Rec, Nathan For You, Community, Better Call Saul, The Sopranos, Squid Game, The Good Place

Directors: Don Hertzfeldt, Wong Kar Wai

Art: Ballet Rehearsal on Stage (Edgar Degas, 1874), The Brooch. Eva Mudocci (Edvard Munch, 1903), Fireflies on the Water (Yayoi Kusama, 2002), Composition with Red, Blue, and Yellow (Piet Mondrian, 1930)

Interesting Facts About Me:

My astrological signs are Aries Sun, Pisces Moon, and Taurus Ascendant.

I'm an INTJ-T on the MBTI scale. (I know the history of it, but I still found it interesting.)

My ancestral research has linked me to Irish and Scottish druids, as well as Nordic vikings. It's quite funny, because their blood now resides in an anxious shut-in obsessed with a fictional show.

My hobbies include writing, poetry, journaling (regular journaling and bullet journaling), listening to music, learning languages (currently Japanese, Mandarin, and Arabic), collecting CDs, reading fanfiction, doodling, and people-watching.

My ultimate goals in life: to become a psychiatrist, a published author, a playwright; to live in Massachusetts, travel the world, and see every Star Trek show and film.

I'm older Gen Z, born in 2002.

I have maladaptive daydreaming disorder (MDD).

I own a first edition copy of Killing Time by Della Van Hise and a signed copy of Leonard Nimoy's autobiography I Am Spock.

My Socials:

Linktree

Discord: mazarinememories (Please, feel free to friend me there! I love making new Trekkie friends and just any new friends in general. I think I'm pretty cool.)

Email (for artistic inquiries): mazarine.asc @ gmail.com

By all means, friends: be well to each other. Live long, and prosper.

Ad astra per aspera.

[neon-in-the-night-time]

just saw the wicked movie and my (non-spoilery) review: fiyero's pants were too goddamn loose. those pants should be so tight that that ass can be seen from the mezzanine. if a fiyero has a flat ass then what is the point. bring back fiyero pants

[chainsaw-trash]

beat it upright

College!AU Chainsaw Man, second part to a previous fic (lose my heart on the burning sands), once again a bit of Denji x reader but mostly Yoshida. Pairing: Yoshida x reader (some Denji x reader implied) Word count: 2670 Warning: nsfw, voyeurism, public(ish) sex

The loud sound of drums rang muffled through the gray concrete walls of the storage room. It was trashy music - even by garage punk standards - but Denji still liked it. And judging by how busy the bar was today, and how fast the beer was flowing, he wasn’t the only one. There is, definitely, taste for everything.

Bobbing his head in time with the song, Denji wished he could be enjoying it on the other side. Alas, someone had to keep the alcohol going from the storage to the bar freezers, and that someone happened to be him. It wasn’t a bad gig, working at the Devilock. He was paid well enough for someone whose job was emptying boxes and cleaning floors - with the occasional serving beers. And he wasn’t treated like shit. 

Well, most of the time, it depended on Aki’s humor.

But he wasn’t about to complain of the occasional bad day, he’d had worse managers. Hell, Denji was in no way going to complain about the one job where he got benefits and the boss let him eat there for free. For a student in the first year of college, this was good enough. Honestly, he’d even had settled for less.

Setting the last empty crate to the side, Denji took count of how many were full before heading back out to the door. When he pulled it open, noise flooded the room, the bass heavy music not much louder than the crowd itself. The air outside made the storage seem cold by comparison, the AC units being overwhelmed by the sheer heat of all the bodies. Fuck, there really were a lot of people who liked trashy music.

Closing the door behind him, Denji whipped his head around, eyes still adjusting to the darkness as he tried to spot Aki. A task made worse both by the constantly moving about of the other bartenders and by the fucking topknot wearing full black in a dark room. Guy was almost a fucking shadow.

“Denji.”

Fuck. Denji felt a shiver climb through his body. Damn dude was a ghost, sneaking up on him like in a fucking horror movie. Get yourself together, Denji.

“Storage is at the half point,” Denji turned around, voice louder to talk over all the noise as he pointed to the yellow door behind him. “But I think it’s good for the next few hours at least.”

“Good,” Aki responded, his breath smelt like cigarettes, Denji was sure he’d just come back from a smoke break. “You can go mop the upstairs storage now, take account of the beer while you are there. Just so I know.”

Responding with a nod of his head, Denji moved from the bar, taking the stairs to the mezzanine. Surprisingly, it  wasn’t that full today, despite how many people were downstairs. Most people liked to be on the ground floor, near the stage, but he enjoyed being able to watch things from above. Moving away from the main area, Denji made his way to the darker corners of the mezzanine and to the staff only parts. Here, back out of the guest zones, the music felt far away. Still audible, but no longer strong enough to silence everything else. 

Picking up the mop along the way, he fast tracked to the storage as he fished for the key set in his pockets. When he approached, though, he saw the familiar yellow light peering into the hall. Shit, he’d left the fucking door open, hadn’t him? The last thing he needed was Aki going on another tirade about locking all the damn doors. The first two were annoying enough. The fears of hearing a third monologue were purged from his mind, however, when Denji heard movement coming from the door. Just his fucking luck.

God help him it wasn’t a rat, or he’d never hear the end of it.

Unfreezing himself from his spot - which he hadn’t even noticed he’d frozen into - Denji moved towards the door cautiously. If it was a rat, he’d need to catch and kill it, so he had to be sneaky. Resting his mop and bucket along the wall, he stopped by the open door, but out of sight. With a deep breath - and a silenced, internal groan - Denji peeked his head into the storage room, ready to come face to face with his new rodent nemesis.

Well, what he saw was definitely not a rat.

Ducking his head away from the door fast, Denji felt his back hit the wall with force as he stood in the hallway wide eyed. He could feel his heart rate racing up in a matter of seconds as his cheeks flushed a deep red. Fucking hell, yeah it was not a rat, but it wasn’t something he was expecting to see either. Gathering himself, he tried to take a peek again, with extra caution now.

Yep. It was you and Yoshida just going at it.

Denji swallowed hard, ducking his head away from the wall again. This was getting ridiculous, honestly. It hadn’t even been a full month since that goddamn night at the beach, and this was happening again. If there was a god above, he really had a sick sense of humor. That damn night had been haunting him in his every free moment for weeks. He’d just gotten back the ability to think of something other than your moaning and now, here he was, back at spot zero yet again.

Maybe, he’d have preferred the rat.

Your moans brought him back to the real word, mind reeling to the present as he felt his cock twitch in his pants. He really didn’t need this kind of situation all again, but his body clearly didn’t care. Denji hears you whimper, a strangled sound that has a shudder running through his spine. He can feel his dick hardening in his pants, blood rushing to his face as he suddenly started feeling hot. 

Fuck, he really should just stop the two of you. He knew that, but he didn’t have the guts to do it. You moan again, and Denji curses under his breath, sweaty hands glued to the wall as he braces for what he is about to do. Slowly, he slides his head to the side, careful not to make any noise. When it touches the edge of the doorway, he turns, trying to sneakily catch a glimpse of the scene happening inside. 

From the corner of his eye he can see you, back turned to him, one sleeve from your dress slipping down your arm as you move up and down on Yoshida’s lap. Your skirt had ridden all the way up your hips, gathering at your waist and leaving your bare ass exposed. Denji could even see Yoshida’s cock entering you as you rode him like a fucking horse. However, he couldn’t really see much more of the guy. His torso and face were hidden by your body, all that was visible were his legs under you and his arms, hands sunk deep into your ass, gripping tight onto your flesh.

Before Denji could get caught, he returned to his spot, resting his head against the wall as he felt his cock throb under his clothes. With a ragged breath, he closed his eyes, but shutting them tight did nothing for his case. The sight of you bobbing up and down on Yoshida’s dick just wouldn’t fucking leave his mind. This was worse than the fucking beach incident, at least then he didn’t get to see shit. Now he was being taunted not only by the noises you made, but by the image that just refused to leave his head.

Shaky hands reached for the bulge in his pants as Denji swallowed dry. When his fingers made contact with his cock, he felt his whole body twitch. Shit, he was already so fucking hard and even more sensitive. He gripped his dick hard through his pants, tugging at it as he heard your moans once again, this time followed by a distinctive masculine growl. Denji had not even properly seen Yoshida, his torso and face being hidden by your body. He was thankful for that, less a chance that his spying would be spotted.

You whined and Denji was sure he could hear the wet sounds of your fucking. Although, he was pretty sure it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Tugging harder at his cock now, he bit back a moan, eyes rolling back at the sensation of the fabric rubbing against his sensitive erection. Shit, he knew he should put an end to this, but he really didn’t want to. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but a sick part of him clearly got off on the situation.

“Fuck, your pussy feels so damn good,” Yoshida’s voice was raspy and low, a dark whisper that Denji wasn’t expecting but thrilled him all the more.

He could only imagine what your pussy would feel like. How wet you’d be around his cock. The fantasies making him tug harder at his erection as he heard you whimpering in response to Yoshida’s words. His mind wandering back to the images of you, how the tight dress hugged your curves as you moved, ass looking so soft under the warm light. What he wouldn’t give to have you.

Moving his head to the side again, Denji tried to take a peek once more. He was rewarded with the sight of your body bouncing on top of Yoshida’s legs as his hips started thrusting up, hands spreading your ass and pulling you down deeper. Shit, Denji could see your pussy spreading around his cock, wet lips glistening, even your asshole was exposed from his point of view. Fuck, he could feel his own dick twitch in his pants, fingers squeezing hard through the fabric as his eyes stayed glued to the image before he remembered to duck his head back behind cover.

Fuck, this was insane. Completely insane. Just the fact that it was happening a second time was insane enough. And that Denji was rolling with it yet again was downright sick. He was a sick fuck for this, he was sure, and by this point he was beyond denying it, a hand pulling his cock out of his pants and giving it a long stroke. Shit, he was sure that if Aki saw this, he’d be out of a fucking job.

But that didn’t stop him, not when he heard you moaning out Yoshida’s name in the sweetest, most sinful voice. It made a shiver run down Denji’s back, a feeling somewhere between jealousy and desire. He knew he shouldn’t be that into his friend - especially when she was his other friend’s girlfriend - but damn, the universe clearly wasn’t helping him here. 

“Shit, you are gripping on my cock so fucking hard,” it was Yoshida’s voice again, deep and almost groggy with lust.

Denji shuddered, hand starting to fist his cock in a hard pace, his free hand coming to cover his mouth as he rolled his eyes back. He was already leaking pre cum, body reacting fast, even as guilt still fought inside of him. He couldn’t help himself. The last time he didn’t manage to actually jerk off, but now he just couldn’t stop, fist rolling down his length.

You moaned again and Denji bucked his hips into his hand, the flowing pre cum making his movements faster and easier. Shit, he was completely fucked, getting worked up so fast at just the mental image of Yoshida fucking you and the downright pornographic sounds of your moaning. His back laid flush against the wall as Denji breathed hard, jerking his length and imagining himself being the one buried balls deep in you.

He is grunting himself now, feeling sweat begin to pool at his forehead from both the imminent sense of danger and the fast, desperate movements of his body. You give one specially broken cry, and Denji can’t help but whip his head back to look into the door once again. The image before him has Denji’s body tensing, cock throbbing violently. He sees Yoshida thrusting fast and hard into you as his middle finger slides inside your tight asshole. God, what Denji wouldn’t give for a chance at just that, his breath faltering at the sight, mouth open and almost drooling.

Denji is captivated by what he is seeing, Yoshida’s entire finger entering your puckered hole as you moan in ecstasy. Just from the sounds, he could tell you were close - and from the speed of Denji’s movements and the tightness in his core, he was getting pretty damn close himself. Reluctantly, he pulls his head back behind the wall, mouth still slightly open as he closes his eyes, letting your sounds take him in.

His mind is replaying what he has seen, imagining what you feel like as he fists himself violently, all shame having left him by this point, Denji being stripped down to nothing but an animal. You are moaning and Yoshida is grunting and god fucking damn it’s all going straight to his hard cock. His fingers move faster and faster, pumping up and down as he held tight to his throbbing length.

The pace of your moans quicken and Denji’s movements follow along, like a shameful dance to an erotic song. Pre cum is leaking wildly as his cock throbs and twitches, the tight coil in his body tensing more and more. His hips are bucking into his hands freely, Denji no longer caring about even pretending to be rational. The most he is doing is fighting hard not to make any sound, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he seeks his pleasure.

You give out one high pitched cry and Denji is pretty sure you’ve just hit your orgasm, the thought of your pulsing walls pushing him past the edge and into his own release. He gasps silently, fists still moving as he cums, milking his climax for all that it’s worth. His thick white seed spills to the floor in long ropes, leaving a sticky mark on the dark concrete below. He cums for what feels like an eternity, lungs burning as his entire body shakes. In the back of his mind, he can hear Yoshida grunt loudly, cumming inside you.

Damn, what wouldn’t Denji give to be in his place.

When he starts coming down from his high, it’s like everything hits Denji all at once. He looks around, quickly tucking himself back into his pants. His eyes fall to the floor, shit, he’d have to clean this up - though, it wouldn’t be the first cum stain he has to clean in this damn bar. Holy fuck, what had he done? He really shouldn’t have done this, and now that the post nut clarity hit him, he was feeling like utter shit. Fucking hell, he really was fucked up, wasn’t him?

“Did you enjoy the show, Denji?”

Denji’s heart was still thundering inside his chest when he heard Yoshida’s voice, his eyes going wide. His hands were trembling, body shaking as he looked at the cum stain below him - the clear evidence of his crime. He had been found out? This wasn’t real, this couldn’t be real, it was a nightmare, for sure.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” Yoshida’s voice sounded again, sly as a fox and twice as dangerous.

Denji slowly turned around, peeking into the door again, eyes still wide as he found you sitting on Yoshida’s leg, both of your clothes now fixed back to a more proper state. He held onto the door frame, hand shaking as his eyes found Yoshida’s. Now it was clear. It’s not so much that he had been found out, Yoshida certainly knew from the beginning. His eyes then found yours, and you only smiled, a dangerously sweet gesture.

Fuck, Denji had walked straight into a trap, hadn’t him?

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

5 people I’d like to get to know better

Thank you so much for the tag @aurorawritestoescape 🩷

Last song: several songs from Mezzanine by Massive Attack that inspired me to start writing something new and unexpected 👀

Fav color: I’m currently in my black, white and red era

Last book: I haven't read a book in ages, what a shame. Last one was The Lost Daughter by Elena Ferrante anyway.

Last movie: my annual rewatch of When Harry Met Sally and 10 things I hate about you 🥰

Last tv show: I started Nobody wants this

Sweet/ spicy/savory: savory for me. Carbs in particular, sorry if I'm such a cliché (we're not all like that I swear 😂) but I could never live without pasta.

Relationship status: single

Last thing I googled: nothing really interesting, I googled an Italian dog breed called Bolognese, very similar to my dog ​​who is a poodle

Current obsession: Pedro in those grey pants 🤤

Looking forward to: more Pedro press, more pics, more interviews 🔥

Npt: @almostempty @arcanefox207 @baronessvonglitter @gothcsz @milla-frenchy

(Sorry if you’ve been tagged already 💕)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 1998 home in Ankeny, IA is the ultimate man cave. It has 3bd, 4ba, and he's asking $1.5M. Take at look at the ultimate man cave.

This is a one-of-a-kind home, and I'm sure it was custom built to the owner's specifications. This looks like some kind of playing court w/the windows above and all.

Looks like a TV and a movie screen. Is that a car lift? I'm confused.

Another TV area with a black fireplace.

This is a very high view of the ground floor.

Back here is a bar with a big flat screen.

Not much going on in this huge sun room. Maybe he rides that blue vehicle around it.

This looks like a big bar and kitchen.

Here's a large 2 bay garage.

Looks like a repair shop lounge.

Volley ball, pickle ball court?

Small exercise room.

Here's a dining room with a mezzanine. I don't know, is that the garage behind the window?

The kitchen's pretty big. It's enclosed, but has 2 big openings.

What a huge open house.

This is an enclosed deck that opens to a large outside deck. I like this idea, in case you invite people over and it rains.

The primary bedroom has a fireplace and a built-in canopy for the bed.

Behind the bed there's a little house that must be a sauna.

The man closet.

Very large bathroom.

Looks like a bedroom setup for several children.

And, a large bath.

Wow, this is like a laundromat.

Down there is the hot tub room.

Here's another bar and kitchenette plus a fireplace.

A very long game room.

The property is 16 acres. Look how far it is to get to the house.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/6681-NE-Berwick-Dr-Ankeny-IA-50021/833655_zpid/

[thatrickmcginnis]

SAM RIVERS, Toronto 1989

That Sam Rivers was born just over a hundred years ago is a reminder that the avant-garde tradition in jazz is an old one. The son of a gospel singer, the Oklahoma-born Rivers moved to Boston where he studied at the Conservatory, which helped build his command of music theory and composition that would make him stand out in his career. Briefly a member of Miles' Davis legendary quintet, he recorded his first album for Blue Note Records in 1964, working as a sideman on albums by Blue Note artists such as Tony Williams, Andrew Hill and Larry Young. His work would often straddle bebop and free jazz, and he would perform and record with influential artists such as Anthony Braxton, Dave Holland and Cecil Taylor. In the '70s he and his wife Beatrice opened their NYC loft to performances, and Studio Rivbea became the most famous of the venues in the city's "loft scene".

I met and photographed saxophonist and flautist Sam Rivers when he came through town with Dizzy Gillespie's Big Band - the trumpeter hadn't been part of the jazz avant-garde for many years, but he frequently hired musicians like Rivers for his band. (Latin jazz trumpet star Arturo Sandoval was also in Gillespie's band when I saw them at Berlin, a club in midtown Toronto.) The perk with playing with Gillespie is that touring conditions were more than decent, and after I talked Rivers into doing a shoot with me, he told me to meet him at the old Sutton Place, a luxury hotel downtown where I did a lot of shooting, as it was the home of the film festival and frequently used to put up big stars by the movie and record companies.

I found a decent spot for my shoot with Sam Rivers in the mezzanine lobby of the Sutton Place, where an antique couch had been placed in front of a big tapestry. (The spot would become a favorite one for shoots.) The light wasn't brilliant but I put high speed Kodak film in my camera and managed to elicit a good range of expressions from Rivers as I coaxed him through our brief but - in hindsight - very productive portrait session. My live photos of Rivers playing in Dizzy Gillespie's band weren't as successful, as the spotlights were mostly on Dizzy and Rivers stuck to his spot downstage from the bebop star. Rivers and his wife moved their Studio Rivbea performing space to Florida in the '90s, where he was able to put together a larger band, and his private recordings have been mined to produce a series of records documenting his work at Studio Rivbea. Sam Rivers died of pneumonia in Florida in December of 2011.

[itsseohannbin]

• Like A Volcano | Part Five | •

Han Jisung Mini Series

© itshannjisung, 2024

♡ itsseohannbins masterlist ♡

Series Masterlist

Chapter Genre: Angst⚡️Fluff💕Crack💥

-Bestfriends to Lovers Trope-

Summary: being best friends with the kings of kpop always has its ups and downs, and when you're offered a spot on the next European-American book tour to promote the publishing of your new book, there's one kpop king in particular who just doesn't want you to go.

Pairing: Idol!Han Jisung x Female Reader x Bestfriend Skz

** Includes two of my own original female characters, both whom are romantically involved with two of the members. Chan x Jo / Minho x Ash **

Warnings: Swearing. mentions of pregnancy. mentions/consumptions of alcohol. brief mention of bar fights. PDA. making out. slight suggestive themes. toothrotting fluff towards the end. the boys do not use honorifics.

lmk if I missed any!!

Word Count: 7.9k

**this chapter has been slightly changed & revised**

Enjoy!

The nightclub looked exactly how you remembered it to be; overly crowded, disgustingly sweaty and loud enough that you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts.

There was a point in time when this very scene was exactly what you and your friends thrived off of. The hundreds of slick bodies rubbing against each other in time with the music, the endless supply of alcohol that you would all take advantage of until the early hours of the morning, the open-concept layout that allowed you access to every square inch of the building, VIP or not.

Now, the eleven of you preferred nights in with take-out, karaoke, gaming, home-mixed drinks and old movies. Very rarely did you guys ever go out like this, so when you did, you guys always made the absolute most of it.

Bright neon lights and signs littered the old brick walls. The main dance floor still stood directly in the middle of the club, separated by a few steps downward to give it a sunken-in look. The DJ stage sat above it, strobe lights flashing every color and design in time to whatever was playing over the speakers.

The main dance floor was accessible to everyone, and there were multiple staircases leading up to the mezzanine level where the VIP section sat. From up there, you’d have a full view of the bars, the dance floor and the seating areas, though the VIP section had a bar and seating section of its own.

You knew your friends would be up there in the same private seating section they’d claimed upon one of the first visits to the club after debut oh-so many years ago. The staff made sure to rope it off so anyone who wasn’t apart of the Stray Kids entourage wouldn’t get in.

Big, burly men stood guard at each staircase, ensuring only VIPS got access upstairs, and you would’ve been intimidated by them all if they weren’t all Changbin’s gym buddies who, like Dae-hyun, knew you and your friends closely.

As your feet carried you forwards, further into the heat and humidity that clung to the air, you felt some of your tenacity begin to slip. If Jisung was in here hooking up with some girl, it’d be nearly impossible to find him in the ever-growing crowd. There must’ve been some sort of event happening as there seemed to be more people bustling around than usual.

You took a quick detour to the nearest bar and topped up on some liquid courage, the bartender adding it to Changbins ever-growing tab, before making your way to a staircase, trying to avoid the stares and glares you received from nearly everyone you passed by.

When you approached the familiar security guard standing post at the bottom of the metal stairs, you smiled brightly up at him.

“Ye-jun, hey! The rest of the gang is upstairs, yeah?” you asked as you stopped next to him briefly. Ye-jun, who smiled brightly at your sudden appearance, just sighed and gave you a once over before shaking his head and laughing at you in amusement.

“Why am I not surprised that you’re the one walking in here rocking a three-day walk of shame outfit?” he teased. “I’m gonna’ have to have a serious talk with Dae after shift about letting you in here lookin’ like that.”

You punched him lightly in the arm.

“Fuck you Ye, you know I look good.” you teased right back. You made sure to twirl your body in a circle for added affect, causing Ye-jun’s lower lip to fall between his teeth, his eyes darkening with appreciation.

“Yeah, maybe a little too good, y/n. Jisung better smarten the hell up and get his ass in gear before someone snatches you up. Or worse, I do.”

Your initial reaction was to laugh, but the reality of his words only caused you to sigh and run a hand down your already sweaty face.

“Has Ji been that bad?” you asked, not really wanted to know the answer.

If Jisung and his behavior was beginning to cause problems for the club staff, you were going to kill him. Ye-jun shook his head and laughed at the concerned look on your face.

“No. Bad would’ve been eight months ago when I had to drag him out of the bathroom and into a taxi because he was crying so hard over you that he threw up all over one of the couches upstairs. Now he just jumps from woman to woman, causing fights to break out and making security have to work double time.” he explained, chuckling whole-heartedly at the sheer embarrassed that was now plastered to your features at the news.

“Oh my fucking God.” you exasperated. “I am so sorry, Ye.”

Ye-jun waved off your worries with a smile.

“Don’t be. We’ve had some good action in the time you’ve been gone, mostly from the women he double-times. Cat fights, smashed bottles, broken chairs, wigs being torn off, drinks thrown, nails breaking. Oh yeah, the guys and I have been nothing short of amused lately.”

You buried your face in your free hand while heat rushed to your cheeks and covered the tips of your ears. “Jesus, Ye. Why haven’t you kicked us out and banned us yet?” you only half joked. Ye-jun just shrugged and leaned against the railing as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Bad publicity. Throwing out a group of idols would look bad no matter how we’d try and spin it. Plus, like I said, the guys and I are loving it. Standing here for twelve hours checking wrist bands isn’t really as enticing as it may seem.”

You gave him a wicked smile at that last part.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I feel like starting a fight then.” you winked, though you still felt awful about the crap Jisung’s put the staff through. Ye-jun chuckled and shook his head one last time at you as you tapped his arm goodbye and ran up the stairs, feeling more desperate to find Jisung than before.

The air upstairs was noticeably lighter, making it easier to breathe the second you reached the top. Behind the panes of glass that bordered off the VIP section, the music was slightly muffled, allowing your mind a moment of peace from the commotion and noise coming from behind you.

You pushed your way through the groups of people that cluttered the area, thanking the heavens it was less crowded up here than it was down below, and stopped just a few feet away from the section where your friends sat. You watched the six bodies that were currently present, admiring your friends in awe.

Hyunjin was perched on the armrest of one of the two couches, sipping his drink while he observed the people around him, no doubt looking for someone to pique his interest. Jeongin sat next to him against the cushions, picking away at the large plate of food that sat on the table in front of him.

Ash and Minho were in their own little world on the other couch, the two of them whispering and giggling to one another as they scrolled through Ash’s phone. They’d stop briefly and exchange looks of intimacy and small, soft kisses before resuming, causing you to blush and look away in order to grant them some privacy.

Jo and Chan were, unexpectedly, also indulging themselves in some PDA, which confused you to the core. Jo was never one for public displays of affection, she usually avoided it like the plague, and Chan was always so fine with it; he too preferred it that way, their intimacy save for the privacy of their bedroom.

But alas, here they were. Jo was sitting sideways on Chans lap, her arms wrapped lovingly around his shoulders as his hands held her tightly at the waist, his face buried into her neck. She was giggling softly to herself as he continued his attack on her skin, leaving kisses along her jaw and throat before dipping to her collarbone momentarily and then tracing his path back upwards. The others didn’t seem to mind, paying them no attention, which only left you feeling more out of the loop.

Something was going on.

You had opened your mouth to question what was going on, to ask when Hell hath frozen over for them to be doing such things publicly, without a care, but you barely got a sound out before Jeongin practically squealed in disbelief.

“Oh my God, Noona?”

He jumped from his spot on the couch, his half eaten chicken wing forgotten as he ran to you with open arms. The remaining five bodies all jumped in surprise at his outburst and they turned to watch as he bulldozed into you, nearly knocking you clean off your feet.

“Y/n?” Hyunjin questioned in time to Jeongins movements as the younger squeezed your waist tightly. Realisation hit him quickly, and before you knew it, he was rushing to your side almost as quick as  Jeongin had.

“Is it really you? Are you really here?” Jeongin asked, his smile brighter than the sun. He barely had enough time to move out of the way before Hyunjin’s large figure came crashing into the two of you.

“Bunny? What the heck are you doing here?” Hyunjin interrupted your reply around a laugh as his hands came up to cup your face so he could hold you still and properly look at you. It was as if he didn’t believe you were actually standing before him in the flesh. He had your face squished so much between his palms that your lips were jutting outwards and you couldn’t form any sort of response back to him.

“Jesus Hyune, give the girl room to breathe.” Jo spoke as she hopped of Chans lap and approached the three of you with a smile. “She’s here to see me, obviously.” 

Hyunjin let go of your face and rolled his eyes at Jo’s words as he stepped out of her way so she could greet you.

“Yes, yes. We all know you two are secretly lesbian lovers.” he dramatically spewed with a shake of his head as he returned to his spot on the armrest of the couch.

“It’s true.” you joked back as you pulled Jo in for a tight hug, happy to see her back to usually cheerful self. “Jo and I are helplessly in love.” 

Chan was right behind her, wrapping his arms around the both of you and squishing Jo between your two bodies.

“We had a feeling you’d show.” he quipped before stepping away, allowing Minho and Ash to come forward next. The two of them hugged you warmly before everyone returned to their seats. Jeongin had grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the couch where he and Hyunjin had been sitting, plopping you down in between the two of them.

“Seriously though, what are you doing home? I thought the tour wasn’t done for another month? What’s going on? And what happened to your arm? Why are you dressed like that? Is everything okay?” Jeongins questions came at you in rapid fire as he began picking at his food once more, a look of concern washing over his features. You sighed and rubbed at your eye, taking a moment to think about how to respond.

“It’s a long story,” you decided. “One we can get into later if you’re really interested and concerned.” you patted Jeongins hand reassuringly. “As for my arm, I fractured it back in Amsterdam. I’m okay though, so please don’t worry.” You reached out to pull a cold fry off the platter on the table but Hyunjin’s hand shot out and grabbed you before you could.

“Uh oh. I’m sensing drama.” he stated, his eyes wide as he looked at you in anticipation. He then went on to ask you the one question you dreaded being asked since your plane left the Amsterdam tarmac. Jo, Ash, Chan and Minho all groaned at his curiosity, though Jeongin looked just as intrigued.

“Where’s whats-his-name?”

You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of questions that would no doubt follow your response. You were hoping you’d have more time before the situation was brought up despite coming all the way here and surprising them. You were too focused on your task at hand to think of appropriate responses while in the taxi ride here, and you mentally scolded yourself for it.

“He’s not here.” you stated simply, surprising yourself with how easy it was to say despite everything Seojun put you through. Hyunjin eyed you as his fingers laced with yours. He seemed to have caught onto the seriousness of the situation and chose his next words carefully.

“Not here as in back at your apartment? Or not here as in-”

“Not here as in not in my life anymore.” you interjected, squeezing his large hand for comfort. Jeongin’s face fell slightly at the news, his lips turning downwards into a frown.

“I’m sorry Noona. I know you really liked him.” he pouted for you. You were quick to wave off his worries as you patted his cheek affectionately, ignoring the way your stomach churned at Jeongin’s claim.

“Innie, please, don’t be sorry. I dodged a bullet with that one, believe me.” you assured him with a smile, mimicking Juho’s words from the other night. Jeongin was half-way through a concerned nod before Seungmin’s voice echoed throughout the small area, his sweaty face lighting up like a Christmas tree upon seeing you sitting before him.

“Holy shit. Y/n?” Disbelief coated his words as he hesitated to move. It wasn’t until you smiled his way and stood up from the couch with your arms open wide did he rush to you like a puppy, scooping you up in his arms and spinning the two of you around. As soon as he put you down a moment later, he pulled you into a tight hug, kissing the top of your head.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice an octave higher as his surprise and joy seeped into his tone. You glanced up at him and smiled before bumping your nose against his chin.

“I just missed you guys so much, I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to come home before I lost my mind.” you answered jokingly before a mischievous smirk spread across your face. “I’m actually here to confess my love.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows shooting up his exposed forehead, his lip quivering for an uncertain moment as he tried to read your facial features. He knew about your infatuation with Jisung, nearly everyone at this point did, so his smile was wary and unsure as your hands lifted to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He swallowed awkwardly, his arms tightening around you as his eyes squinted down at your curiously.

“Confess to who?” he drawled out. Your smirk grew bigger at his inquiry.

“To Jisung, obviously.”

As expected, Seungmin’s face twisted up into a look of discontent and disgust, though his smile never fully faded, his grip still tight around your waist. He knew your heart belonged to his bandmate, but it never stopped him from relentlessly flirting with you every change he got.

“Why would you want to confess to him when your knight in shining armour is literally standing right here in front of you?”

You laughed and scoffed before ruffling his now-blonde hair and giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Seung, you know I love you, but-”

“Yeah, yeah. Not the way you love him.” he waved off your affection with a laugh of his own as he wiped your kiss from his cheek. “He’s nothing but a loser trapped in his own aluminium foil, and for some reason, you’re into that.” he playfully rolled his eyes and frowned as he let you go. A pout sat at his lips as he took your spot on the couch and helped himself to the food you were eating.

“Don’t be pouty.” you mocked.

“I’m not?” Seungmin answered, his frown still present. “I’m just glad it was one of us and not that jackass.”

“One of you that what?” you quipped.

“One of us that you fell in love with. I mean, it should’ve been me, honestly, because I’m irresistibly funny and more handsome than Jisung will ever be, but I won’t hold it against you. As long as you come sit with me.” Seungmin joked around, patting his lap for you to sit down.

You rolled your eyes at him and ignored his invitation, glancing around the VIP section to see if you could spot Jisung. You knew he wouldn’t be up here, it would be obvious if he was, but you still looked for him regardless.

“Where is Ji anyways?” you asked no one in particular. “I need to talk to him before my confidence wears off.”

You didn’t realise you had been bouncing anxiously from foot to foot, toying with the hem of your (Jisung’s) shirt until Ash had reached out and grabbed a hold of your hand, her thumb running soothing circles across your knuckles to help ease your nerves.

“Last I saw he was down on the dance floor with Bin and Felix.” Seungmin answered as he leaned back into the leather couch, his mouth nearly stuffed full with nachos.

Just as you were about to open your mouth and ask who wanted to join you for a dance, Changbin showed up looking sweaty and out of breath. He whizzed past Chan and Jo, who had resumed their intimate acts of affection, and reached for a glass, gulping half of it down before he even noticed you standing there. Upon meeting your gaze, his eyes widened and he nearly spat his drink out across the space between the two of you.

“Bunny?” Felix shouted in surprise as he appeared, pushing past the ropes and coming forward to immediately pull you into a gentle hug before Changbin could. “What the hell are you doing here? When did you get back?”

You squeezed your arms around him for a moment, melting into his familiar embrace before you pulled away and held him at arms length, observing his change in style.

“I got back this morning. But you? What did you do to your hair?” you exclamied upon seeing it, the bright blue color harmonizing his skin tone perfectly. Felix blushed and swiped his hand through the loose locks, smiling down at his feet.

“You like it? I think it looked great. They did such a good job for comeback.”

“It looks incredible!” you gushed as your hands reached up to touch it. You were expecting the strands to be dry and damaged from all the product they must’ve used to bleach it and then dye it, but it was as soft as a feather.

“Yah!” Changbin then interrupted in his loud voice, the tone only slightly annoyed. “Is this why the four of you rushed out of the house so quickly this morning? To go pick her up?” He addressed Chan, Jo, Minho and Ash as he came in for a hug. The four of them nodded in response.

“Why didn’t you tell us she was back!” He asked as he wrapped his strong arms around you and squished you tighter than anyone else had.

“She didn’t want you guys to know she was back until she was ready.” Chan explained calmly, glancing at you before he continued on. “She’s had a lot of shit happen in the last few months and she really needed a rest before you heathens brought more chaos into your life.” He gave you a silent look to see how you’d react to his explanation, but his honestly barely bothered you.

“Because you guys are animals and I needed to fully recharge my battery before facing all eight of you again. I missed you guys a lot, but my time away has dwindled my patience.” you joked as you wiggled in Changbins iron-like embrace. He waited a few more seconds before loosening his grip, allowing you room to breathe. He then held you at arms length and gave you a once over, a look of concern crossing his features before a giggle escaped his lips.

“Your sense of style also seems to be dwindling.” he teased, shaking his head similar to how Ye-jun had. “What the hell are you wearing?” he asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes and pushed him playfully away from you.

“Keep it in your pants, Bin. I’m here for Jisung, not you.”

You expected Changbin to dramatically clutch his heart and fall to his knees the way he’d done so many times in the past, but instead, he tensed under your touch at the mention of Jisung’s name. A laboured breath left his throat and your stomach began to turn.

“Fuck me.” he whispered as he closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose in distress..

“Bin, what’s wrong?” your voice squeaked. You knew his answer just by the look of sheer guilt in his eyes, but it still stung to hear the words out loud.

“He just went off to dance with some girl.” he admitted shyly as he scratched the back of his neck. There was barely enough time for the information to reach your ears before Jo suddenly burst out in a fit of annoyance.

“Binnie, what the hell?” she sucked in a breath at his words, a look of betrayal on her face. “Remember when I told you guys not to let him do that tonight? This is why. Cause y/n’s back, you idiot!”

Changbin shrugged his shoulders and held his hands up in surrender.

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t know Bunny was back, or I would’ve stopped him! I just wanted to let the kid have some fun!” he tried to justify his actions, but Jo wasn’t having any of it. She nearly growled as she rose from Chan’s lap, causing him to reach out to stop her.

You watched as Chan grabbed her by the waist to prevent her from beating Changbin to death with her bare fists, his hands resting protectively across her stomach. He stood with the momentum and nuzzled his face into her neck, whispering lightly into her ear. He was being overly affectionate with her despite the tension that surrounded the two of them earlier in the morning during the ride back to your apartment, and you were becoming more and more confused.

“Jo, Love, please relax. You don’t want to get too riled up. Think about your blood pressure.” you heard him barely whisper as he tried to talk Jo down, his hands moving to rest on her upper arms.

You knew something was going on but you never expected the next words to leave Chan’s mouth.

“Think of the baby.” he murmured. He thought he had spoken low enough for no one to hear, but you did. Everyone did, and everyone minus Ash and Minho whipped their heads in their direction with matching looks of shock crossing their features, Changbins fuck-up momentarily forgotten.

“I’m sorry, WHAT?” you shouted in surprise.

Chan’s face flushed red and Jo scowled playfully at him. 

“Nice going Chris.” she mumbled as she smacked his arm lightly. Chan just let out a sheepish smile and rested his chin on her shoulder as he pulled her back down onto his lap.

“Excuse me?” Changbin was having a hard time comprehending the news.

“You’re pregnant?” Jeongin and Felix spoke at the same time that Hyunjin and Seungmin let out choked noises of surprise. Jo hesitated for a minute to look at Chan before the biggest smile you’d ever seen from her spread across her face. She looked joyful, ironically like a child, and adoration sparkled in her eyes.

“Surprise?” she offered. Smiles and shouts of joy began to slip out as the initial shock wore off of everyone, each of the members present standing to hug and congratulate the happy couple on their news. Seungmin just leaned forward from his spot on the couch to try and give his leader a high-five amidst the chaos.

“Alright Chan! Fifty points for managing to put a Joey in the pouch!” he laughed maniacally. Everyone except Chan laughed at Seungmins inappropriate joke.

Chan instead just deadpanned at his younger member, the signature disappointed dad sigh making a comeback as he shook his head. He looked as if he was ready to put Seungmin up for adoption.

“Seungmin, never ever in your life say those words to me ever again.”

Seungmin just laughed as he forcefully pulled one of Chan’s hands off of Jo’s stomach and high-fived himself with it, looking mischievous and every bit proud of himself. Everyone shook their heads at him before you brought attention back to Jo and Chan.

“So, how far along are you?” you asked.

“Do you guys know the gender yet?” Felix then chided in.

“Oh God, I don’t know if I’m ready to be an Uncle to two idiots just yet.” Hyunjin cried, earning a smack on the back of his head from Minho.

“If it’s a boy can we name it after JYP?”

Jo laughed at the impending questions and hugged Chan tighter to her chest as she answered each of them happily, her body practically dripping with excitement.

“I’m almost four months along. No, we don’t know the gender, we want to keep it a surprise. And no, Seung? We’re not naming it after JYP?” she scowled at Seungmin’s suggestion. You could practically see the wheels of mischeif spinning wildly in his mind, and you decided then to interrupt his next words with a clap of your hands.

“I think this calls for a celebratory drink for everyone! In honor of the both of you.” you interjected, addressing both Ash and Jo in your statement. “By this time next year, we’ll have a mini-Jo and a mini-Min running around together, wreaking havoc with their parents in tow, and I think it’s best for us all to get a head start on the numbing process now.”

Everyone giggled and cheered at your suggestion. All but Chan. His attention was zeroed in on something past the window and down onto the main dance floor.

“I think the drinks can wait.” he said. When his eyes found yours, he nodded and motioned down to the crowd of people who were dancing and singing to the music. You paced to the window and peered through the glass to see what he was looking at.

At first, you weren’t sure what caught his eye. The flickering lights and hordes of people made it difficult to spot what he did, but after a sudden flash of white light lit up the room, it was hard to miss the silver-blonde mop of hair on Jisungs head as he squeezed his way through the crowd, his hands intertwined with a girls.

You gulped loudly as you watched him pull the female away from the dance floor and towards the darkened corners where the bathrooms were located. A wave of heat washed over you and you suddenly felt sick to your stomach from the sight of him with someone else. Someone that wasn’t you.

Everyone had gotten up and peeked through the window to see what you and Chan were looking at, and then they all looked towards you to gauge your reaction and anticipate your next move. Minho must’ve sensed your sudden lack of confidence because he held the remainder of his drink out to you and waited for you to take it before he spoke softly.

“Remember what I said, y/n.” he clicked his tongue. “You deserve happiness. You deserve love. You deserve him. Now go get him.”

The jealousy that sat idly in your bloodstream flared to life as you downed your drink without a problem, barely tasting the whiskey on your tongue while your eyes followed Jisung. You nodded at Minho’s words, but your feet refused to move.

This was it.

This was what you came here for.

This is what pulled you off your couch and dragged you to this nightclub without a second thought, without a single care at to what you looked like and what the outcome could’ve been. 

Maybe you should’ve changed your clothes.

This was what your heart ached for,

He was what your heart aced for.

And it was time to get him back.

You nodded your head again as you felt the alcohol coat your system with a new wave of confidence. You took a deep breath before you glanced to your right where Seungmin was sipping on his glass of expensive vodka through a straw.

Before he could react, you pulled the glass from his hand and tilted your head back, chugging as much of it back as you could.

“Oh, that’s not-” Seungmin paused and watched in awe as you downed the entire glass. “That’s not water.” he finished quietly to himself as you handed him the empty glass and wiped the corners of your mouth, letting the vodka give you that extra boost you needed to get your feet moving.

Satisfied, you turned on your heel and walked away from your friends without another word. Despite the excitement that still hung in the air at Jo and Chans announcement, all nine of them shotued and cheered for you as you made your way out of the VIP area and down to find Jisung, causing others to send weird looks your way.

Your feet seemed to be moving in double time as you became more and more determined, pushing through the waves of people and making your way to the bathrooms, desperately hoping Jisung would still be in the area.

You weren’t about to lose you chance again.

You’d fight the girl with your bare fists if you had to; anything for another chance.

As the alcohol settled in your system, you felt your head grow tipsy, boosting your confidence impossible more. The crowd grew more and more dispersed the closer you got to the bathrooms, making it easier to breathe.

Easier to find exactly who you were looking for.

He was hard to miss.

He had the girl pushed up against the wall near the corner. Her hands were running ravenously over his body; up his back, across his shoulders, into his hair and down again. His face was buried into the crook fo her neck and her smile was blissful even in the dim light as he sucked and bit at her skin.

Upon seeing him in this compromising position, you almost blushed and turned away to leave them be, accepting the fact that he’d moved on from you, but you noticed quickly that Chan had been right. Jisungs hands were planted firmly against the wall he had her up against, and his body was rigid, still, as if he wasn’t enjoying himself in the slightest. That was enough to make you stay. 

He was wearing one of his infamous sleeveless shirts, black and worn out and distressed, much like yours was, and fitted black jeans. His silver-blonde hair that you’d seen online in the comeback trailer was long and messy, sweat causing it to stick up and out in all directions while the girls hands tugged and pulled at it.

The way his shirt hugged his broad shoulders made his back muscles extremely visible, his honey-colored biceps and forearms flexing deliciously as the pressure he applied to the wall rose and fell in time with his heavy breathing. The shirt clung to his body, slick with sweat, exposing his thin waist.

He looked absolutely delectable.

You watched as the girl raised one of her bare legs and wrapped it around his hips, a moan escaping her lips as she tried to pull him closer to her. It was the most dramatic, unnattractive sound you’d ever heard and you sensed she was most likely doing it for his benefit rather than her own, attempting to gt him to touch her, but he resisted.

You felt a surged of pride as you noted it. Yes, you trusted Chan and everything he told you, but seeing it with your own two eyes made it more real, more special.

Jisung didn’t want anyone but you, refused to touch anyone but you.

It made you shudder in delight.

Then, as if on cue, the most delicious groan you’ve ever heard escaped from Jisung’s throat, causing a shiver to shoot up your spine.

“Bubby,” he whined, his voice hot with lust as he practically cried. “Y/n, please.”

That was all you needed to hear; the only thing that sent you flying towards the two at full speed before you could even register what was happening.

He didn’t want her, he wanted Bubs.

He wanted you.

With more confidence than you’ve had all night, you walked right up behind him and laced your fingers into the belt loop of his jeans. In one swift motion, you whirled him off of the girl and pushed him into the corner, caging him with your arms on either side of his face.

You ignored the girl’s confused huffs of anger as Jisung was ripped from her grasp, and pressed your body against him in all the right places, your leg inserting itself between his, your lips coming up to whisper in his ear.

Jisung wasn’t sure what had happened. One minute he was sucking the neck of a girl he didn’t bother learning the name of, doing everything he could to block the image of you from his mind, and the next he was being pushed into a corner.

His first drunken instinct was to fight against whoever it was who overpowered him, which was futile given how much alcohol he’d consumed already, concluding it was probably one of the bouncers looking to throw him out for god knows what this time. But, when he was met with your familiar scent, when the lavender and vanilla hit his senses at full force, his body nearly shut down. When your soft, sweet voice whispered into his ear, the voice that always seemed to bring him back home, he went nearly limp with relief.

“I’m right here Sung. Bubs is here.” you had whispered against his earlobe.

Immediately, his arms wrapped around your waist as your words hit him. For the first time in almost a year and a half, he felt like he was being saved, like he was waking from a dream, a nightmare.

He felt as if he had been spacebound for decades and your voice was the tether he needed to bring him back to earth. Like he had been drowning for an eternity and your voice alone was all he needed to breach the surface and breathe in the oxygen that was you.

He inhaled and slowly opened his eyes, terrified that he’d come face to face with a total stranger, someone who smelled and sounded exactly like you, the love of his life, but wasn’t.

When his eyes slitted open and they found yours staring back at him with nothing but adoration and lover and wonder, his arms tightened impossibly more around you and he practically lost his breath.

With your hair pulled into the remnants of a messy bun, dark bags under your eyes from lack of sleep, the small mole on your left cheek that matched his almost too perfectly, he thought you looked absolutely stunning.

The freckles that scattered across your nose and cheeks like stars in the night sky, the shirt, his shirt, hanging off your body, your shorts barely poking out from beneath the hem, the fucking converse on your feet.

No one could ever compare.

Maybe it was the alcohol swimming through his system, or simply just the lights from the club behind you, but he swore you had an angelic glow.

His savior.

You had come back for him.

Despite the overwhelming amount of happiness that poured into his bloodstream at just the sight of you alone, despite never feeling so relieved in his entire life, his face turned downwards into a scowl as he made eye contact with you.

He didn’t mean for it, but he wanted, needed, to protect his heart.

“What are you doing here y/n?”

His eyes burned into yours. You could tell by the fire in them that he was still mad at you for everything that happened, but the grip he had on your hips and the ever-growing bulge in his pants that was pressed against your thigh told you a completely different story.

“I’m here for you, Ji.” you spoke calmly, adoringly.

Jisung let out a sarcastic laugh and shook his head as he sobered up and glanced around where you had him cornered. He was fighting an internal battle with himself and wasn’t sure which side would win. The side that was still heartbroken and furious at you for leaving and running off with a man who didn’t love you as much as he did, or the side that wanted so badly to melt into your embrace and kiss you like there was no tomorrow.

“What’s wrong? Seojun couldn’t fulfill your needs so now you’re back here looking for me to do it instead?”

Ouch. That one stung.

You expected a bad reaction from him, but nothing like that. You nearly flinched away from his words. Your first instinct was yelling at you to start a fight and let the tears slip, it’s what you were used to from Seojun after all, but Jisung wasn’t speaking maliciously, at least not completely. He had no sides of the story and you knew that.

That was the only reason you took a deep breath and forced a conversation out of your system instead of the usual screaming match you had grown accustomed to in your time away.

“That’s not what’s going on, Sung.”

“Isn’t it though? You had him and you got bored and now you’re back for me.”

He watched you through hooded eyes as you shook your head at his words, but he didn’t give you a chance to respond before he spoke up again.

“Y/n, I love you just as much as I did the day you left, probably more so now that I know what it’s like to live without you, but I vowed to myself that day that I’d never let myself be anyones second choice.”

A heartbroken sigh shattered your body at his words, causing you to shake your head even harder at what he was insinuating.

“That’s just it Jisung. You’re not my second choice.” you breathed out around the lump that was quickly forming in your throat. You exhaled a shaky breath before continuing, not missing the way his eyes widened slightly at your claim.

 “You’ve never been my second choice. You’ve always been my first. Even when I ran off with some asshole who didn’t give a flying fuck about me, when I embarked on an adventure that left me feeling nothing but lonely and empty inside, when I laid awake night after night missing home and wishing desperately I could go back, you’ve always been my first. And I tried to deny it and I tried to run away from it, but I couldn’t. I can’t anymore. You’re undeniable. You’re the only one my heart has ever belonged to. It’s been yours since day one.”

Jisung went still and silent at that, his eyes observing yours closely as he searched for any remains of doubt or skepticality in your resolve, anything that would tell him you were exaggerating or lying, but he found none.

He was suddenly hit with a brick of emotions as he found nothing but honesty and love staring back at him. He was and always would be your number one. He could see that now as clearly as he could see the universe in your eyes every damn time he looked into them.

“What are you saying y/n?” he whispered out so quietly you barely heard him.

A soft smile curled the corners of your mouth as you reached up and brushed some of his hair away from his face, trying to get a better look at his honey-colored skin and adorable brown eyes.

“I think you know exactly what I’m saying.” you whispered back in the same tone. It was a miracle the two of you heard each other at all over the loud music. But at this moment, the two of you were just lost in your own little world, everything else seemed muffled, unimportant.

A smile then pulled at Jisungs mouth, one that wasn’t mean or sarcastic or insincere. A genuine smile, and you knew at that moment you had him. You got him back, and the utter relief that shook your body was powerful enough to make your knees weak.

He was yours.

“I think I want to hear you say it,” he spoke softly, his eyes glittering in anticipation. “But please, please, don’t say it unless you absolutely one-hundred percent mean it. I can’t go through this again. I can’t lose you again.” he begged.

You dimpled at him, taking your hands off the wall and reaching to tangle your fingers in the long, soft hair that sat at the nape of his neck. You gave him a grin and shook your head in awe.

“I love you Jisung.”

He seemed to be holding his breath as he waited patiently for the words to leave your mouth, because once they did, a sigh of relief left his lips and his head fell forward to rest on your shoulder, his arms hugging you closer to his body. He nuzzled his nose against the skin of your neck, inhaling slowly as he tried to relax his frantic heartbeat.

“Say it again,” he whispered, causing a giggle to leave your chest as you held him close to you.

“I love you Ji.” you told him again.

You could feel him smiling against the skin of your neck as he took another deep breath, inhaling the very essence of you.

“Again,” he begged, relishing in the way the words left your mouth so prettily, in the way it made goosebumps rise along his arms and legs, in the way it filled him with so much joy and happines he felt like he could outshine the sun.

You let out a laugh at his persistent request, but complied anyways, tears forming in your eyes and threatening to pool down your cheeks from the sheer happiness filling your veins.

“I’m in love with you, Sungie.”

He pulled away from your neck and lifted a hand from your hips to hold your face. Tears of joy and relief were falling down his puffy cheeks and his thumb wiped at yours as your own tears began to fall just from the sight of him.

“One more time?”

You giggled again, your head leaning into the warmth of his touch.

You’d tell him as many times as you needed to for him to believe it.

“Jisung Han, I fucking lo-”

You never got a chance to finish your sentence before his lips connected with yours as he spun the two of you around, caging you in the corner and encasing you in everything that was him.

The kiss was gentle and sweet, full of love and devotion and longing. Even though his lips were pressed against yours roughly, they felt feather-light, and you sighed into the feeling.

It finally felt like you had come home.

Jisung smiled against your lips once you finally opened your mouth to take a breath, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in. The second your tongues touched, it was like fireworks had gone off inside your body.

Every nerve ending in your tongue, in your mouth, in your entire being was on high alert as the two of you slowly and sensually explored each other. You could feel every inch of his tongue as it grazed across yours. The little sparks of electricity that poured from his hands that were holding you so gentle made you feel alive for the first time in months, years even.

When the two of you inevitable had to pull away, breathless and dazed from the intensity of your actions, Jisung leaned his forehead against yours and opened his eyes slightly to stare at you.

“That should’ve been our first kiss,” he whispered as his arms folded around you once more. He was squeezing you tightly, as if he was afraid you’d drift away the second he stopped touching you, and you loved the feeling of it.

“I love you so much, Princess.”

You glanced up at him briefly before you pulled him in closer to you once more, connecting your lips with his in another kiss.

The time, the kiss was hot and desperate, the neediness practically rolling off the two of you in waves. All the years of longing glances, sexual tension, titillating banter and subtle flirting had led up to this moment. The invisible chord that tethered you two together seemed to have finally been pulled past it’s limit and snapped, brining you two closer than ever before.

Jisung slightly bent his legs, his mouth never breaking contact with yours, and wrapped his arms around your thighs, picking you up and pushing you harder into the corner.

As if you had been doing it for years, your legs automatically wrapped around his tiny waist, his pelvis pushing against yours while his chest pinned you to the wall. His fingers were softly stroking the crevice just beneath where your butt ended and your legs began, causing your body to ignite with want.

You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged on the ends gently, pulling away from his lips, a small string of saliva connected yours to his. Jisungs mouth chased you as you went, causing you to softly laugh. You had to put a hand on his shoulder and nudge him to get him to relax and take a breath.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked breathlessly, your eyes darting from his eyes, back down to his mouth and then back up again.

Like you were a drug he was addicted to, Jisung couldn’t keep his lips off your skin. He planted soft kisses all across your face as you spoke, from your cheek, to your chin, to your nose, and finally back to your lips once more.

“Yeah?” he asked back, taking a moment to stare at you nervously. He bit his lip as you nodded your head yes eagerly.

“Yeah.” you confirmed. Jisung took one of his hands from where he was supporting your ass and brushed a few baby hairs away from your face.

“Are you sure?” he asked, causing you to roll your eyes and let out a laugh in response.

“Just fucking take me home Jisung.” you begged. Jisung smiled at your request and helped you to your feet again. He held onto your elbow as you struggled to regain your composure from the heated kisses the two of you exchanged.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

And with that, with his hand on the small of your back, he took you home.

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

Taglist || @sungshineworld @collisvng @ihrtlix @queen-in-the-shadows @cassidymb121

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[sofasoap]

Miss Stardust

Pairing : Kyle “ Gaz” Garrick x F!reader Summary: What will become of this broken friendship? In comes Ghost the wingman/shit stirrer. Part 4 to Miss Sunshine series. Warning: Mature theme. Violences. I am not military personnel, nor action movie writer, ignore all the errors in the fics pls.

Gaz route for my Mini MacTavish verse.

As always, Thanks to mother of my Mini MacTavish @saltofmercury for lending me the character “Mini” from her story. Go read her “The Favorite MacTavish”  !

“Masterlist” for other stories to this Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

Gaz never felt so miserable in his life before. He couldn’t believe himself. How could he freeze? He had the perfect chance to confess to you right there and then! The devastated look on your face keeps replaying in his mind. The guilt stabbing him, over and over.  

How he wants to bury himself in alcohol, drowning himself in sorrow. But knowing himself, his alcohol tolerance is close to zero, and he isn’t putting himself or his team at risk on the field in a half sobering state either. 

“Didn’t believe you could get even more serious with that face until now.”  He jumped a little as he felt the couch dipped beside him. When did Ghost slip into the room? 

“I heard from a little bird that you mess things up really bad.”

Gaz head shot up, how does he know?

Pulling his mask up a little, sipping on the tea slowly. Gaz swears he could see a smirk on his lip. 

“You think you are the only one that she has been talking to?” 

Jealousy flared up within Gaz. Is that a challenge??? “Worker harder if you don’t want her to be taken away from you.” Ghost drained his tea, stood up, slapped him on the back and left the room. Leaving him with the mystery words.

He tried to message and ring you for weeks after that. No responses at all. You even ended up blocking him afterwards. Does he have the right to be jealous? The two of you aren’t in a relationship. Just friends. More than friends. But he ruined it. So who else to blame but himself?

“Intel just came in,” Price half shouted over the sound of the helicopter and he started the briefing. “Metro police requested an assistance report of terrorists holding a group of civilians in a London shopping centre.” “ So far we know there are about ten hostile targets and twenty civilians. Bomb squads are on standby. Police already cleared a five kilometre radius as exlusion zone. We are not sure how much explosive they have packed into the building.“

Price shot Soap a look before he brought the video up on the screen. “... but we do know they have strapped a bomb onto one of the hostages.”  Gaz heard a visible gasp from Soap before seeing his face going red with rage. Terrorists were making their demands of ransom and releases of the political prisoners. The video zoomed into a woman, tied onto a pole, strapped full of explosives on her vest. 

It’s YOU. Bloody and battered. What have they done to you? 

“MINI.” Even he can hear the strain in Ghost’s voice. Gaz clenches his fist, trying to keep his head cool and concentrate on listening to Price dishing out the information.

“...They’ve given us until midnight tonight to meet their demands.” Price paused the video. It is clear what they will start doing if they don’t get what they asked for by the time limit. Gaz eyes went back onto the screen. Even in your dishevelled state, the determination and resilience  showing through your eyes, not one to give up. They are going to get you out. In one piece. No matter what it takes.

Four of them storm through the building like mad men. Few of the bomb squad specialists followed and quickly dispersed into the cleared zones, working on disarming the explosives. 

“Alpha 1-0 to Actual. Visual on hostages. East wing mezzanine level. Only one with explosives strapped. Rest grouped towards the back left corner away from the staircase.” Reports coming through the sniper, stationed on the rooftop  next to the building. “ Positive ID on the main suspect. Please advise.” “Actual to all stations, need confirmations on explosive status.”” “Confirm disarmaments.” 

“All stations. Standby.” Price gave his men a look, three of them nodded their heads. “Clear to shoot Alpha 1-0.” Sound of shattered glass echo throughout the building, and the screams of hostages. The men swiftly move up the staircases, taking out the rest of the targets. “Confirm targets KIA. I repeat, targets KIA.” Soap ran towards you as soon as all clear was given. “ Mini!!!” “ Johnny…” you replied with a whisper.  “Fucken steaming Jesus… they really got you good.” Looking down at your thigh, that is still trickling with blood.  Soap was furious. He wishes he could revive those terrorists and shoot them dead again. No one hurt his family. Ghost and Price were ushering the rest of the hostages away downstairs as the rest of the SWAT team swamped in.  Gaz came up beside you, starting to cut the binding off your hands as Soap quickly looked over the explosive vest that is still strapped onto you. 

“... I can’t just take this off. It’s booby trapped.”  he swore. “ They basically want you dead no matter what.” Soap made a quick call into the com, requesting the specialist for backup. “Mini.” Gaz called out to you. You turn your head, finally to face him. Biting your lips,he can see the tears welling up in your eyes, trying hard not to let it fall. “We will get you out.” Gaz heard Price’s voice behind him, with Ghost and two specialists following behind. Soap and Gaz quickly move away from you to let them do further assessments.

“ Good news is… well, Soap is right about booby trap,” You rolled your eyes. “ There is a way around it. The bad news… “ All the men look at the specialist,. “ …. As soon as you try to disarm it, you will trigger a timer,” they point towards a little red light on the side, obscured underneath tangles of wire. “ I would say you only have about five to ten seconds before it explodes on you.”. You grabbed onto Soap’s arm, dreading the possibility. “Just leave me, don’t risk all the lives for me.” Gaz’s heart shattered. Why are you trying to be the hero? “Don’t be a bampot Mini, how am I going to face Ma and Da if I leave you here?!!” Soap retorted. Taking a deep breath, the group deliberated, trying to come up with a plan.

So now, you are standing close to the balcony, the two specialists on your side, ready to cut the wires in sequence. Ghost standing behind you, back to the balcony, holding onto the top of your vest, ready to pull it off as soon as the disarmament is complete. Price and Soap kneeling down on the side, ready to cut the straps.  While Gaz stands facing you, ready to pull you in.

“ Ok. Remember the sequences. On my count.. Three, two.. One…”  Price and Soap started cutting, and Ghost pulled up hard, with the two specialists yelling out in sequences. “ FIRE IN THE HOLE!!!” Ghost yelled as he yank the vest up above your head, throws it over the balcony, down towards the ground floor, turning around, pushing himself behind you, into Gaz’s embrace, along with the others, forming a shield , protecting you from the exploding and the fragments flying up. Gaz can feel you trembling away, as you grab onto his tactical vest. He held onto you tight, trying to keep you up right.  Not a word from anyone for a few minutes, only sounds of debris and glasses shattering and heavy breathing from everyone trying to calm down from the adrenaline high. “Come on, we need to get out of here, the building is not safe.” Price was the first to break the silence. Ghost pulled you out of Gaz's embrace, he immediately misses your warmth. You stumbled a bit as you tried to stand, Ghost was quicker to scoop you up into a bridal hold. Pinch of sadness as Gaz sees you curling into Ghost’s chest, like a little broken girl, seeking for warmth. Ghost eyed Gaz for a quick second, before he turned and marched downstairs.

Gaz later found you sitting on the stretcher,leaning against Soap, looking down and totally zoned out. Ghost appeared behind him, pushing him towards you. “Last chance. Go talk to her.” as he turned and yelled at Soap, diverting his attention away from you both. Gaz silently snuck in as Soap gave you a kiss on the forehead and walked towards Ghost and Price. “Hey.” you snapped out of your reverie as Gaz called out to you, looking down at the spot Soap just vacated. You nodded your head, giving him the go ahead to sit. “You alright?” You asked him after a brief silence. He chuckled a bit. “I should be the one asking.” Gaz called your name. “I am sorry.” “ For what?” “ For being an idiot.”  You know what he is referring to. Pressing your lips tight. You didn’t reply immediately.  Gaz could see droplets of tears falling off your chin. “You did nothing wrong Gaz.” hands playing with the bandages around your thigh,” It was me who had the wrong idea. I am sorry I made things awkward between us.” “But you didn’t have the wrong idea.” You turned slowly, a twinkle of hope in your eyes. “ I was an idiot. I didn’t pick up on your hints. No, more like I was scared to acknowledge the hints.”  Gaz turned away with shame. “ I was a coward, I…didn’t think I deserved you..” reaching out for your hand, “ I was happy to stay in this little comfort zone, not wanting to burst the bubble, risking losing you.” “Can we be friends again? Please don’t lock me out. I want you in my life.. I..” “I don’t want to be your friend Kyle.”  Gaz froze. “ I want to be more than that.” Gaz’s body slumped with relief. He tilts his head down, pressing his forehead against yours. Sliding your hand up his arm, you tried to turn your body fully to face him. Letting out a whimper as you move your leg, Gaz immediately moves one of his arms underneath your thigh, and another around your waist, to pull you into his lap. “...Ghost knows all about this?” “... Ya… what’s with that pout Kyle. I started talking to him because he was asking for my advice.” Gaz’s eyebrows shot up. “ Advice?” Now that is interesting. “.... he wanted some dating advice.” He burst out laughing. And to think he got jealous of Ghost talking to you. “Can we not talk about him? Hurry up and give me a kiss before the others come back.” Who is he to deny your request? Holding your face softly, he closes the gap and gave you a tender kiss. Snaking your arms around his neck, you press yourself against him tightly, deepening the kiss. “Now how we going to tell Johnny.” “..... Please don’t remind me.” 

The biggest challenge, greater than terrorist attack, telling John "Soap" MacTavish. tag: @deadbranch @lia0-0 @josephquinnswhore

@voxyin