#by which i mean three snippets and counting

[booksandberries]

i did Immediately bust out a sasakagi fic, but dunno if it's good enough to post

[sunboki]

⎯ caught in the webs. ( teaser ) ⟡ featuring han jisung

🕷️ : Spider-Man! Han Jisung x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. Spider-Man! au, nerd Jisung! au, high school! au, pining, confessions (somewhat), slight self-doubt, a little angst, nervous sungie :(

WORD COUNT. estimated to be around 4k-7k words

WARNINGS. cursing, mentions of an existential crisis, slight anxiety/degradation of oneself

AUG'S NOTES. hi hi—! although my initial plan was to produce some cute, enemies to lovers teachers! au with our beloved seungmin (which will eventually come to be, don’t worry), a bit of dialogue came to me one night for a spider-man au with hannie. ….i wrote nearly 3k in a day. as for now, however, tell me your thoughts and please enjoy this snippet!

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. To everyone else in high school, Han Jisung is just a nervous, somehow ingenious chemistry nerd. And yet, beneath the glasses and long hours studying, a secret lies. Because Han Jisung isn’t just a nerd, but Seoul’s one and only, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. But what happens when he finds himself head over heels for no one but you? No less scrambling for the courage to ask you out before the Valentine’s Dance? Between the fine-line of his secret identity and the more he falls for you each day, he finds himself hoping you feel the same way.

or alternatively :

In which the tangle of webs makes for complications, and love.

“And- I mean, it’s not like she knows I’m Spider-Man so,” Han rationalizes, hands flailing about in an awkward manner of both panic and hope, currently spilling his worries out to a luckily, ever patient Chan.

That is, opposed to Minho (Han’s official roommate) whom the two both know would nod his head and eventually (bluntly) tell Han he’s thinking far too hard before going back to studying. 

And yet, at this very moment, Minho might be the sole reprieve in calming said boy’s nerves with his no-nonsense attitude.

Because in less than three weeks their high school’s annual Valentine’s dance will be here, and if anyone knows something about Han Jisung, it’s the borderline pitiful way he pines over you like some neglected puppy, a factor it seems only you don’t notice.

As for the thing nobody knows of apart from some greatly trusted compadre’s, Han Jisung isn’t simply a dorky high schooler, but Seoul’s one and only, (trying-to-be) friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. 

Who.. is having a heart attack merely thinking of your face, your laughter, your smile, your— ugh.

Three weeks to gain as much style and confidence as he can muster and, first and foremost, the balls to even ask you out when the time comes. 

To put it simply, he’s fucked.

Completely, utterly, fucked.

Biochemistry with Mr. Jang is the pits when it comes down to his hour-long lectures, but it isn’t the boredom itself grasping his attention so deliberately, it’s you.

Two seats ahead, one seat to the right. 

And oh, if Han isn’t smitten.

You’re smart, stupidly smart. With your pretty hair and pretty face and crinkling eyes when you smile, where your lips curl in delight. You seem to glow, as if an ethereal fae he’d learn of in childish folklore, come alive amid his wildest daydreams.

So it’s the shrill ring of the dismissal bell that has him jumping from his seat, palms slapping against the wood of his desk with a stinging force effectively gaining the attention of most everyone in the class.

And the harrowing silence.

Trust, his face goes beet red, and Jisung had never choked on an apology faster in his life beneath Mr. Jang’s scrutinizing stare.

Though, from the corner of his eye, he can see it: that breathtaking smile of yours hidden behind a hand as you laugh. 

Jackpot.

Han Jisung has just hit the lottery.

Even if it was his scolding earning your laughter. But he’d brush off the matter a thousand times over to see that smile again. And again and again, like a selfish itch incapable of being satiated.

He really is hopeless.

.

.

.

“No you don’t get it! She smiled at me and—“

The rest is a series of groans and oddly unintelligible sounds, ones the partner of his decides not to inquire about.

Now squirming around the hallways, Jisung buries his face into his hands, whining loudly. Third period leads both him and Minho to Physics together, the decently spaced walk across campus to the classroom allowing leeway for (currently-kept-secret) Spider-Man’s groveling. 

Funny story, actually.

The way Minho found out, that is.

Having grown used to his webs over the few months of adjusting, he’d been ignorant in forgetting his roommate would be home as well.

Which.. ensued the piece of bread he used his webs to beckon over—while making the glorious concoction donned as a grilled cheese—met with Minho’s furrowed, evidently confused brows and an equally, albeit slow, acceptance whilst continuing on to the fridge.

A predictable reaction, Jisung would’ve supposed.

If not for the fact he downright begged the boy to not tell, dread forming in his stomach merely watching that sly, mischief-filled sneer curl at his roommate’s lips. 

Laundry and dish-duty for a week.

Thanks, Minho.

As for Chan’s introduction to Seoul’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, the two had been approaching each other after Chan’s football practice when the older of the two tossed a football at the younger counterpart, under the (accurate) impression Jisung couldn’t catch to save his life.

That was correct.

The unable-to-catch part, yeah.

But of course, per his luck, if Han couldn’t catch it, that damned radioactive spider would help him catch it.

And he did. Both hands, firm and fast.

Quick enough to freak the quarterback out and, given a few weeks time, unveil his secret after one too many tests on his reflexes and a downright scary amount of footballs thrown at his head.

“So you’re diseased.”

“I am not, we’ve been over this.”

“You’re walking on the ceiling.”

Fair enough, he’d admit if not for the cereal (that he currently figures out how to hold upside down- or right side up? It’s hard to tell) stuffed in his cheeks, feigning a glare matching Minho’s where his roommate pokes his nose indignantly prior to beginning off towards the bathroom.

Nearly 8am, and he’s aiming to keep comfy pajamas on as long as possible before having to exchange for school clothes.

Curious, observant umber irises waste time peering at the expanse of his torso visible where he hangs upside down, lips forming into an ‘o’ of awe seeing the defined lines descending down his belly flex with every move.

Those are new.

Perks of a spider bite, huh. 

Of the few.

Eventually resorting to doing forgotten dishes, he patiently waits for the grumpy roommate of his to finish in the bathroom, rumbling echo of the hairdryer synthesizing with the morning news’ daily report.

Weather, local updates. But the portion gathering his attention comes in the form of the headline: Creeping villain, Lizard, once again detained by Seoul’s mysterious vigilante, Spider-Man.

And simultaneously, listening in on the story, he finds a glow of pride settling in his chest.

He did that. With a few bruises and scrapes sufficing as evidence but, overall, his doing.

Nevertheless, with the rising pride comes the rising stupidity.

Apparently. 

Resulting in, while lost in the throes of his inflating ego, the reckless unleash of webs upon random surfaces as fast as he can manage, failing to notice the risky positioning of a web by his foot until—as if from a cartoon—he trips over it. 

“Ow! My foot- and my coffee..”

The shatter of his mug and Minho’s exasperated sigh seem to speak for themselves.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[saintsanddevils]

Void & Omen - pt 2

Bob Reynolds/Void & Fem!Reader

Summary: When you meet Bob, that deadly power inside of you stirs, recognizing something just as equally dark and powerful in him. After all, like calls to like.

Warnings/Tags: Thunderbolts movie spoilers, canon typical violence & swearing, protective!Bob

Author’s Note: Someone asked how many parts this series will have & so far I’ve planned 5 or 6. This might change.

Word Count: 2K

Masterlist

Part One • Part Three

————

My senses slowly come back to me as pain beats up my spine like a steady drum. I’m bruised and beaten after being thrown from the explosion and my muscles scream at me as I slowly wake.

My ears are ringing and my head aches, but when my fingers begin to twitch, I sense something soft and calloused holding my hand. I slowly open my eyes to find it still curled in Bob’s hand. His grip begins to tighten around mine as he stirs. He must’ve been knocked unconscious too.

His soft features are speckled in ash and dirt as his eyes slowly open. They immediately find me.

Like calls to like.

That thing from my memory—no, my dream, its voice continues to echo in my head. The dream still sticks to me like a second skin, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue.

Bob must sense my distress or notice the anxiety written plainly on my face as his eyebrows furrow, body tensing. His hand unconsciously squeezes mine, as if it were habit.

When he notices, he quickly tears his hand away, as if embarrassed. His cheeks are red as he slowly sits up, looking anywhere but at me.

“Are you alright?” He mutters, shy and concerned.

I groan, limbs stretching before I heave myself into a sitting position. “I’m alive. That counts for something, I guess.”

He nods before finally meeting my eyes. He seems incredibly nervous and cautious as he says, “I’m sorry.“

I furrow my brows. “For what?”

He stares for a moment. His voice lowers to a whisper. “I should’ve tried to catch you.”

I still.

The dream. It’s hazy and fading in my memory, but snippets of darkness and light, of blood and gore, rise in my mind. And a voice, just before I fell into the dark…

“There you are.”

That voice…

Realization dawns on me like a slap to the face. It’s stinging and bruising as I remember that voice. His voice. Whatever that dark shadowy thing was, it sounded eerily like Bob.

I focus on Bob’s hands in his lap. How they were holding mine a few moments ago. How the skin cradled mine gently and how he never let me go, not even after the explosion.

“Catch me?“ I pause, suddenly recalling seeing his face just before I fell into that unending void in my dream. “That was real?” I whisper.

Bob looks shaken. “I-I think so. I don’t know. I don’t know what any of that was. I just remember fragments, but I remember you and how scared you looked and how all I wanted to do was help you.” He pauses, swallowing. “I’m really sorry—“

“Good to see you’re both breathing,” Yelena appears above us, hands smoothing debris and dust off her clothes.

Neither of us acknowledge her. We’re both still staring at each other.

He was really there, in my dream. He saw everything. I didn’t imagine it.

Which means he saw what happened. Little nine year old me, strapped to a table under fluorescent lighting. And he also saw that creature version of me, the one covered in ink-like darkness. And that man…

The man cloaked in shadow, who seemed so familiar. He was the silhouette with Bob’s voice. I faintly remember dreaming of him before, but I can’t recall when. And whatever that shadowy thing was, it was eerily a strange, dark version of Bob.

Yelena’s eyes bounce back between us for a moment. “Uh, sorry, am I interrupting something?”

I shake my head, shoving the uncertainties and possibilities of what just occurred. If Bob was there, that means something happened to him in that trial from O.X.E. as well. And whatever they did to us has tied us together somehow. As if we’re bound by something bigger than being thrown into an incinerator, where they probably hoped we’d be dead and forgotten by now.

When I turn to Yelena and find her hand outstretched to Bob, he hesitates. It’s a brief second of vulnerability, as if he’s not used to touching someone else so freely. The skin of my hands, that were held in his seconds before, burn at the thought.

Why does he touch me without thought, but hesitate with others? Does it have something to do with whatever O.X.E. did to him, to us? Does it explain why I feel this strange pull towards him, as if we’re two gravitating stars on the verge of colliding? Does he feel that too?

My head pounds with questions while all I can do is stare as Bob ignores Yelena’s hand and stands, dusting off his pants.

“Thanks, uh, yeah glad to see everyone made it out. You okay?”

She shrugs. “This is practically a normal Tuesday afternoon for me.”

A smirk threatens to spread across my face as I struggle to my feet. Once I’m standing, my legs start to shake and the room spins. I falter back a step and Bob is suddenly there, hands steadying my arms and waist, eyes insistent and protective.

“I’ve got you,” he says firmly.

It’s grounding and sure and it’s entirely startling. It’s strange, almost foreign, to have someone care about my well-being when it seems all anyone ever wanted in my life was to get as far from me as possible. I’m used to being treated as a plague, something to avoid.

But this… Bob’s arms encircling me, steadying me. It’s comforting and stable.

I choke down that acidic taste of loneliness as I give him a quick nod of appreciation before lowering my arms and stepping away.

God, I’m entirely too touched-starved for my own good.

I can feel Bob’s gaze on me, but I turn to Yelena, who raises a brow at us.

“Do you know each other?” She asks.

Like calls to like.

I still. That thing inside me is stirring like a turbulent wave, rattling my bones, whispering in my head.

“No,” I choke out, ignoring the pressure in my chest.

I sense Bob’s wince as if it were my own.

Yelena stares at me. “Really? It just seems like you’ve known each other for years—“

I shake my head, moving past Bob. He’s still staring at me and I feel it like a brand on my skin. “We should look for a way out of here.”

Yelena pauses, staring at Bob, before turning back to me, nodding. “Ava and Walker are scouting it out.”

I nod, shifting from foot to foot. Bob is still staring.

“Y/N,” he murmurs.

“If you’re done chit-chatting, I found a way out!” John shouts, to my relief.

Yelena stops Bob from following as I walk over to John and Ava. I hear Yelena check in on him, but I ignore them. Whatever that lies between us is too terrifying to comprehend. It’s only been an hour or so with these strangers and I shouldn’t be so comfortable with any of them, especially Bob. Sweet, protective, kind, observant Bob.

I shake my head, shoving it down into the void of my emotions, hoping whatever sings in me when Bob is around will soon go away. I’m not used to other people enjoying my company, let alone liking me. And from the small interactions with Bob, he seems to be both.

I follow Ava into the ripped open elevator shaft and stare up into the never-ending dark above us.

“Well, shit,” I mutter.

Ava shakes her head. “Yeah. Shit.”

We stand there for a moment before we hear John calling out to Yelena and Bob. “Are we done with our little therapy session or do you guys want to stay down here forever?”

When I turn to find Yelena and Bob standing close together, heads bent and her hand on his shoulder, something in me seethes. It’s acidic as it simmers beneath my skin.

Mine, that thing inside of me whispers.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I mumble to myself, closing my eyes to take deep breaths. I try to still the rotting jealousy spreading through my limbs, taming that power in me that threatens to rise to the surface. Now is not the time for destruction.

“You okay?” Ava asks.

I startle, opening my eyes. “Yeah, just…not a big fan of tight spaces. Just need a second.”

I see her brows pinch together, jaw working as she watches me. Before she can say anything, John, Yelena, and Bob join us in the elevator shaft.

Bob gives me a sheepish look before shuffling next to me. It’s strange how my body reacts when he’s near. Like that thing in my chest hums at his presence, begging me to step closer. Wanting me to touch him.

I clench my fists, keeping my feet planted as we all look up into the dark.

“So,” Yelena sighs. “None of us can fly? We all just punch and shoot?”

I sense Bob shifting from foot to foot.

Walker rolls his shoulders, breathing in and out loudly. “I’ve got this, guys.”

With a running start, he jumps into the air. The leap propels him and he soars upwards, disappearing into the dark.

“Is that… normal?” I ask.

Yelena rolls her eyes. “He’s some downgrade super soldier. Nothing special.”

“Used to be Captain America,” Ava adds. “Not a good one, though.”

Screaming echoes through the air as John’s body begins to descend rapidly towards us. Bob’s hands suddenly grip onto my elbows, pulling me back into his chest as Walker slams into the ground, inches from where I stood. I try and resist leaning into his touch.

Ava laughs at John. “You should do that again.”

John groans, heaving himself from the floor, glaring at Ava. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, walk through the walls and throw us down a rope or something?”

Ava’s smile disappears, annoyance prickling her features. “If I could do that, I wouldn’t be standing here, now would I?” She shakes her head. “The most I can hold it for is about a minute. I could be trapped and crushed inside the mountain before I can get back.”

“Only a minute?” John scoffs.

Ava glares. “Asshole.”

Yelena sighs. “Any other ideas?”

The buzzing under my skin vibrates through me as Bob continues to hold me to him. I can sense every movement of his chest, every twitch of his arms and fingers.

When Yelena catches my eye, I quickly step out of his reach. I can sense Bob’s furrowed brow and concerned eyes. But we have bigger things to worry about, like getting out of this place.

Bob raises his hand tentatively, drawing everyone’s attention. “I think I might have an idea.”

————

“Who the fuck are they?” Valentina Allegra de Fontaine points at the screen.

Video footage of five people breaking the security lock on a door in the O.X.E. Vault fills the screen. Valentina can name three of them, since she was the one who put them there. Yelena Belova, John Walker, and Ava Starr.

But it’s the two others she can’t name. They’re strangers and, right now, she needs to know how the hell they got inside that vault.

Mel Gold shrugs, staring down at the tablet. “No idea, but I’ll find out.”

The limo is silent as Mel’s fingers tap away. The city lights pass by them as the seconds drag on. Valentina clenches her jaw, her teeth creaking as she tries her best not to scream at her assistant. No matter, within seconds, Mel straightens in her seat.

“Oh god,” she whispers. “Do you remember Project Sentry?”

Valentina waves a hand, already brimming with annoyance and impatience. “Of course, but we shut that down along with everything else. All the tests subjects died. It was a dead-end. A failure.”

Mel nods. “Yes, or so we thought.”

She shifts the tablet back to her boss. Valentina’s eyes slowly begin to widen as she stares down at the screen. Her fingers latch onto it, zooming through pages and pages of research and records and case studies for Project Sentry. She pauses on research results for both Robert Reynolds and Y/N Y/L/N.

Valentina stops on a picture of the young woman. It was taken the day she arrived at the O.X.E. facility in Malaysia. Her eyes were sunken in, bones protruding from her face and collarbone. She was malnourished and sickly. She looked lost and forgotten. The perfect subject.

Below the picture, the doctors and scientists listed everything she described to them about her condition. How she hoped they could rid her of what she could do.

Scientists experimented on her, needing to know what they were dealing with. Included in the file was a video of that experiment.

“Holy shit,” Valentina whispers under her breath.

She replays it, over and over again, eyes widening as a slow, creeping smile spreads across her face.

“What is it?”

Valentina looks up at Mel from the tablet. Her smile is downright lethal as she says, “We need to get to the Vault. Immediately.”

Part Three

————

Taglist: @eywas-heir @babybabygrogu @theadharablack @jsprien213 @mysticdelusionengineer

Anyone can be added to the taglist🫶

[writtenbyan-aries]

Summary: full one shot based off of this snippet - I added more details to this one.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, swearing, onlyfans!reader, consensual recording/picture taking, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, dirty talk, praising, oral (f rec), hair pulling, choking, filthy filth

Word Count: 3.2k | not edited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

You were at home, racking your brain on new ways to spice up your website. A new outfit? No. A new lingerie set? No.

You chewed on your lip, letting out a frustrated sigh as nothing peaked your interest.

The feeling of your phone vibrating on your thighs, distracts you from your thoughts when you see Colby’s name on the screen, “Hey.”

“Hey. Do you have plans tonight?” Colby asks, not really sounding like he even wants to be talking to you right now.

“Um, no. I don’t think so, why?” You sit up and wait for him to speak, but he’s still quiet, “Colby?”

“I gotta go.”

You hear the three beeps and slowly pull your phone away from your ear, confused as hell, “What the fuck?” You shake your head, trying to figure out why Colby sounded different on the phone.

He didn’t tell you if anything was bothering him, he seemed fine before he left, which is what makes it weird because he couldn’t even be on the phone with you.

But it also made you kind of worried. You liked Colby.

A lot.

The one thing that’s been holding you back from telling him about said feelings, is mainly your onlyfans page.

You weren’t sure whether or not Colby would be okay with that. You wanted Colby and you honestly felt like he wanted you, too. But, at the same time, you weren’t sure if he would want to be with someone that has shown and continues to show their tits for money.

You toss your phone down with a sigh before walking over to retrieve your new lingerie sets from your bottom dresser drawer. You lay them out, deciding on which one to pick before changing into it.

You grab your camera, setting it on your tripod before moving to get on the bed, posing in various positions before repeating if with the next set.

You were honestly shocked that you haven’t been walked in on before. Sometimes you get so into taking pictures or recording stuff that you heard something at the last second that’s saved you from even Sam walking in.

You wrapped up getting dressed right at the perfect time. As soon as you pulled your shirt down over your body, you hear the front door open and close with a powerful shove.

You wait a few seconds, trying to listen to if you can tell where they’re going, but panic at the last second when you hear them growing closer.

You shove your tripod in your closet before moving to shove the lingerie back into the bottom dresser drawer.

Just as you turn around, there’s a knock on your door and you know it Colby, “Come in.”

The door opens and he walks in, “Hey.”

You give him a smile, “What’s up, Colbs?” Your smile slowly fades away when he doesn’t look at you for a few seconds, “Colby?”

He doesn’t look at you when he asks, but his words shockyou, “Do you do porn?”

You blink a few times, processing what he just asked you, “um. I-I, mean yes and no.”

“What do you mean yes and no?” He turns towards you, “Do you just, go through guys? Like what? how does that work?”

You hold up your hand, “Whoa, back it the hell up, Colby. I don’t just go through guys.” You scoff, “What is your deal?”

Colby sighs, “My deal, is that you do porn and you never told me?” He shrugs, “You sleep in the room next to mine.. I don’t, this is big, y/n.”

You laugh slightly, mainly trying to cover up your nervousness, “Colby. Listen to me. It’s not straight up porn. Okay? I do OnlyFans. I don’t do anything nude. Well..”

He looks at you, “What do you do?”

You sit down on your bed, reaching over to grab your laptop, “If you want to know, just..” You get in, clicking around until you pull up your page, “Here. Look. The only really bad thing is that I show my boobs, and every now and then I will post a video. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.”

He walks over, sitting down beside you as he takes your laptop. You can tell there’s a positive change to his demeanor and you bite your lip.

You watch as his eyebrows raise with each picture that’s more scandalous than the last. You hear his breath hitch when he stumbles across your first video - purple vibrator sliding in and out of your pussy.

“So..” you cause him to jump slightly but you don’t pay any attention to it, “..who told on me?”

Colby laughs, “well.. actually.” He looks over at you, “One of Sam’s buddies sent him a screen shot and asked if it was you.”

“Why would Sam know? I haven’t told anyone I do this.” You tilt your head and Colby shrugs, looking back to your computer as he scrolls down, “I don’t know, but yeah.” He turns his phone towards you and points to this picture on your computer, “Its this one.”

You purse your lips, “That was a pay to see picture.”

“Wait, what’s that mean?” Colby looks at you and you can’t help but giggle, “It means.. whoever screenshotted that and sent it to Sam, paid to unlock it so they could see it.”

“So, they’re subscribed to you?” Colby asks and you nod, “or someone else he knows is?” You shrug, “I’m not sure, Colby.”

You could see the jealousy plastered on his face as he just stares at you, “Uh huh.” He jocks his jaw and nods, “Okay.”

He sets your computer down on the bed and stands up, hands on his hips as he tries to process everything you just shared with him, photos and all.

“So what? Are you like mad at me? Not friends anymore?” You purse your lips, “Like does this make you look at me differently?”

Colby shakes his head, “Not really. Well..” he laughs slightly, motioning towards you computer, “..I mean, okay. I see you differently now, but like..” He trails off, trying to find his wording as he scratches his brow, “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I didn’t want to tell you because I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it and I didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship.”

Colby chuckles, “Ruined?” He shake his head, “No. not at all. As I said. Different.. a hundred percent.”

“Different?” You ask as you tilt your head and he nods, “Oh yeah. You’re so much hotter than I originally thought.”

You can feel your cheeks growing warm and Colby’s next question didn’t help any matters, “So, how do you feel about potentially doing full blown.. porn?”

Fuck, you think, “Um. I mean..” you laugh slightly and look down before looking back up at him, “Maybe if it was someone I was comfortable with?”

You nod, Colby heavy on your mind, “Yeah. I think I could do it.”

A smirk grows on his lips as he slowly leans in, giving a nod to the right with his head, “Go get those pretty little outfits, because we’re about to be making you bank, baby.”

You tilt your head, “Why don’t we just get right to it.” You grip the collar of his shirt and pull him down as you lay back. He goes with you, his lips attacking your neck.

“Don’t we need the camera?” Colby leans back and you nod, “Yeah.” You breathe out, “It’s in my closet on the tripod.”

You look up at him with a smirk, “I took some pictures while you and Sam were out.”

“Mm, I’ll need to see those, too then.” He pushes himself up and goes to get the camera. He turns it on after taking it off, clicking a few times, “And we’re rolling.”?

He walks over to you, “Go ahead and take those clothes off for me, baby.” He bites down on his lip as he alternates watching you in the little screen and behind it, “Fuck, look at you.”

You toss your shirt to the side, leaving you topless as you move to sit on your calves, thumb hooking into the waistband of your shorts, “You like what you see?”

“Baby you have no idea.” Colby bites down on his lip, watching as you slowly push your shorts down your thighs. You fall back, lifting your legs to kick them off and Colby pulls them off of your ankles, tossing them behind him.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.” Colby bends down, pointing the camera directly at your pussy, “You look fucking so good.”

You gasp as Colby’s thumb drags up and down your folds, “P-please.” You whimper as you buck your hips, “I need you.”

Colby pushes his thumb into your cunt, angling the camera up at your face as your eyes roll back and you moan, “Fuck, yes.”

He angles the camera back down just as he starts to slowly work his thumb in and out of you, making sure to film how fast your wetness costs his skin, “Fuck, you’re so wet already.”

“Been wanting you.” You roll your hips at the loss of his thumb inside of you, “P-please.”

He chuckles as he sets the camera down on the bed, “Play with yourself while I undress, sweetheart.” You watch as he steps back, waiting until your fingers start working circles on your clit to undress.

“There ya go, baby.” He whispers, lip pulled between his teeth as his fingers move to unbutton his shirt, “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

Your eyes track his shirt as it falls to the floor and you slide two fingers in, gasping at the feeling. Colby nods, “Keep going. Fuck, listen to that.”

Colby finishes undressing, picking up the camera and giving it a closer look at your needy cunt, your fingers weren’t cutting it.

“Here baby.” Colby hands you the camera and you smirk as you take it, flipping it around to capture him moving between your legs.

His hands snake under your thighs to lay across your hips and your legs hook over his shoulders. Your back arches with the first swipe of his tongue, moaning out as you dig your heels into his upper back.

Colby’s face is buried in your cunt, his tongue thrusting in and out as his fingers dig into your skin, “Fuck.” He groans against you, “You taste so fucking good.”

You moan loudly as his nose pushes against your clit, your orgasm being drug out with the curling of his tongue, “Fuck, fuck.” You gasp, “C-colby.”

He holds onto you, not letting go as your walls clench around his tongue, moans and incoherent mumbles leave your lips as he guides you through your high.

Your hand tangles tightly into his hair, earning a groan from him as he pulls away, “The best pussy I have ever tasted.” He crawls up, lips crashing onto yours and you moan when the taste of yourself creeps into your tongue.

He sits up, taking the camera from you so he can record his cock rubbing up and down your folds before pushing between them.

He groans, angling the camera up to your face to capture what you look like feeling his cock for the first time, “Fuck, fuck.” You arch your back, rolling your hips forward and you gasp when he thrusts his hips into you.

“Fuck, baby girl. You’re taking me so well.”

His hand grips your hips as the other grips the camera tighter, “Fuck, you have such a beautiful pussy.” He groans lowly as he slowly pulls out, “Fuckin’ hugs my cock perfectly.”

You moan loudly as his cock is thrusted into you. Colby looks at you from behind the camera, watching your face twist with pleasure as he slowly pulls out and thrust back in.

He breathes out, “You’re already making me want to cum.” His hand slides over to press his thumb to your clit. He smirks as he hears whimpers and moans of approval slip from your lips, growing louder the harder his thrusts grow.

Your back is arches off the bed as your hands grip the blankets hard, moaning out loudly as Colby’s cock is repeatedly slammed into your cunt, “S-so close, fuck.”

“Come on baby.” Colby sets the camera down, angled to capture your body and your legs around his waist, “Cum for me.”

He groans lowly as he bends down to kiss you. Your arms wrap around his neck and his hand slides down your body, giving your hip a squeeze, “You feel so good.”

You moan, nails dragging up and down his back as you cum, holding onto his for leverage, “Fuck, fuck, yesyesyes.”

You throw your head back, a nonstop string of moans leaving your lips as Colby not only, fuck you through your high, but marks up your neck in the process.

He rolls over, grabbing the camera to film your body on his, groaning as he watches his cock disappear inside of you, “Fuck, that’s it baby.” He reaches out, sliding his fingers along your open thigh, “Just like that.”

You tilt your head back, hands squeezing his thighs as you bounce up and down, whining out as you feel yourself growing close, yet again.

“One more time.” Colby whispers, his hips bucking upward, “M’so close, too baby.”

“Need you.” You whimper, grinding your hips down.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Colby asks as his hand grips your hips, the other still keeping the camera as steady as he can.

You lean down, kissing up his neck, “Want you to cum in me.” You kiss his lips, “Need all of you.”

He nods his head and you roll off of him, biting down on your lip when he grips your throat and pushes you backward.

His hand remains on your neck as his cock slips into you, “You’re gonna be so full.” His thrusts pick up rather quickly, your moans muffled by his hand squeezing harder as he rails into you.

His films you body jolting with each thrusts, groaning at the sight of you tits bouncing, face turning red from the lack of air.

“Fuck.” He lets go of your neck, cupping your cheek but you keep it up by taking his thumb between your lips.

“oh, baby.” He groans, burying his cock deeper into you, “Fuck, you’re such a slut aren’t you.” He grips your chin, earning a whimper from you as you give him a nod.

“Say it, baby.”

“Your slut.” You moan out, clenching your walls around his cock, “I’m your slut.” You moan loudly, back arching as you gasp out.

You come undone underneath him one again, moaning out as you feel his cock twitch inside of you. Your legs loses from around his waist and he sits up, filming your pussy as he pulls out.

You lift your legs, wrapping an arm around them to hold them up. Colby’s thumb pulls your pussy lip to the side, groaning as you push more of his cum out.

“Look at that.” Colby whispers as his thumb swipes upward. He reaches up, leaning forward to film you sucking the cum off his thumb, “Atta girl, baby.”

You smile up at him and he stops filming, moving to lay beside you, “How was that?”

“Exciting.” You breathee out as you roll over to face him, “But I have a question for you.” He nods and you sigh, “Do you want to be known? Like do you want me to cut out anything that has you in it?”

He laughs, “Baby. Like I said before, we’re going to make you bank, so you do..” he leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “What you need to do, to do that.”

“Maybe we should tell Sam first.” You bite your lip and he gets smirks, getting up to go to the door, “Hey Sam.”

“I already know.”

Colby closes the door and walks back over to you laughing, “Now that that’s out of the way.” He grabs your laptop, “Go clean up, I’ll get this uploaded to your computer.”

You smile, nodding your head as you get dressed to go to the bathroom.

When you get back, your clothes are back off and you’re in bed with Colby, “After we edit this.. I think you should film me going down on you.”

He nods his head, “Oh absolutely.”

——

It’s been two months since you uploaded that first video, you made it a pay to see vide, which gave you and Colby, and even Sam, a little bit of time before news leaked into the fandom.

After that. Wildfire.

All of your social media comment sections have been flooded with questions, comments, and of course, concerns.

Is that really Colby on y/n’s onlyfans?

Colby and y/n???!?!!!!?

COLBY FUCKIN BROCK WTF

I mean, idk who I’m more jealous of really.

I’m actually kind of shocked ngl

WAIT HOLD ON.. Y/N AND COLBY!?

No because get it girl. For real, and get it Colby damn

You and Colby would spend nights just laughing at the comments and of course discussing the rude ones with each other, but it mainly ends up in having sex.

Colby finding out was probably the best thing that could have happened in the situation, if you knew he would have been down to help you, you would have asked him a while ago.

You made so much money in the first two months, you guys basically spoiled Sam by taking him away to different cities around the world as an apology for him having to sit through filming sometimes, he was like your little sugar baby.

Right now, you were in Italy. You and Colby went back to the hotel to get ready for dinner when Colby’s laugh catches your attention.

You lift your head, arms still rested on the banister of the balcony, “What’s up, babe?” Colby leans against the doorway and looks up at you, “Have you read the comments on the post you posted today?”

You shake your head, reaching out as he hands you his phone. Your lips turn into a smirk as your eyes scan over the screen.

You can’t tell me Sam ain’t hitting it too

Ngl, they’d make a hot thruple

I want to be y/n when I grow up

You hand Colby back his phone and you ride your brows, “What? You want to give them what they’re asking for?”

“It’s whatever you want, baby. You’re calling the shots.”

You purse your lips, bringing your glass of wine up to take a sip as you think, “You think he’d go for it?”

Colby scoffs, “Please. You should have seen the look on his face when you seen your tits through that lace top. You’re not living with us both for no reason.” He smirks, “I’ll tell him to come up here.”

You walk over, biting down on your lip as you grip his bicep, “Wait, until dinner. I want to ask him myself.”

——

Thank you so much for reading, I hope it was good! Let me know and as always, I love you so much! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[hoshinasblade]

second best |3| hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2 | BONUS: PART 3

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 2k trigger warnings: a bit suggestive at the end author's note: i promised a part three so here it is, hope you guys like it! likes, replies, and reblogs are welcome but im begging you not to copy or steal my works. feel free to sign up for my taglist (which i swear im gonna use on the next fic lol), and i appreciate when people send me asks so let me know your thoughts (or send me hoshina pics, that'd be great too). my masterlist is here! also i gotta let you know that i might put the next fic on hold because i am so tempted to start a short nsfw collection instead - just one-shots so it won't be a lot of commitments. who knows cause i might write angst and nsfw at the same time 😉

soshiro's hands were trembling. you noticed because it has not happened in a while - you cannot even recall the last time you've seen the man nervous, much less shaking. you were going to himeji that morning; hoshina had snatched your backpack from you - "when i said i would make it up to ya, i mean in every way i can," he said, sounding gentle and sincere that your only choice was to let him carry your belongings and blush as he also intertwined his fingers with yours while walking.

there is this story you have been hearing for a while - the red string theory, it is called. according to it, people who are destined to be together will always find each other despite everything and anything. when you were a kid, instead of thinking it romantic, you rather thought it is frightening - fate is a difficult enemy to go against: if it is meant to be, then it will be eventually. when you grew up, you held that belief as a prayer - it means that whoever is the one chosen for you may get lost on their way to you, but they will always - always - arrive.

you glanced at hoshina soshiro and you knew you were right to believe.

it was roughly a four-hour journey from tachikawa to himeji by train, and during the entire ride, even when he fell asleep for a short while, your boyfriend did not let go of your hand. you complained about your palms being sweaty as a joke, and he only loosened his hold. you understood - he is making it up to you, but he is also making up for all the wasted time.  

"we're almost there," you told him when he startled from his nap. his bangs were slightly messy, and he bumped his head to your shoulders. "comfy," he hummed. you giggled.

you are still trying to navigate through dating a high-ranking officer of an anti-kaiju defense force unit. relationships aren't strictly forbidden but still frowned upon, which was a little bit of an issue between you and soshiro when you had a proper and long-overdue conversation about what you guys were. confessing is one thing, but when being friends is all you've known your whole life, you know adjustments are supposed to be made here and there.

 which brings you and him back to your hometown.

he didn't exactly disagree with you, but you are aware he had his reservations about the idea of visiting himeji. "oh i'm pretty sure soichiro-kun would be surprised," you said when you were still planning the trip. "yes, we should kiss in front of him and give him a heart attack," soshiro suggested, and you weren't hundred-percent sure he was just joking. maybe you didn't want him to be.

when the streets started to look familiar, soshiro noted the sudden bounce in your pace. you and he have walked in the same alley years ago - he would wait for you after class and would even make up some ridiculous excuse so you could go home together. "i used to pretend to be tired way back just so i could convince you to slow down. i wanted to spend so much time with you," you reminisced.

"i should have known ya were head-over-heels for me," he teased.

"they miss ya, soshiro-kun. ya don't have anything to worry about." the change in topic wiped the smirk off his face. he was suddenly serious, sad even. there was a part of you that regretted saying the words, but he had to hear it - you only wanted to reassure him after all.

"just that i haven't been here for a long while", he said, squeezing your hand. "i don't know if they think this place is still my home."

"ya need to have faith in the people you care about, soshiro-kun. ya need to trust that they care about ya too," you solemnly advised. "i know that doesn't make any sense sometimes, but that's how i do it."

"have i told ya i love you so much?" he responded, to which you smiled.

"only a thousand times," you joked once more.

the hoshina estate is a spacious one - you have to pass through an automated black gate that directs you to the main house, the cobblestone path lined with cherry blossom trees, their delicate petals swirling when the wind blows gently; the grandeur of the home soshiro grew up in is undeniable with its traditional japanese architecture. a man with striking features and an aura of authority was waiting at the entrance, waiting for his son.

“father,” soshiro greeted the man, bowing deeply.

“an embarrassment that your friend will be the one to bring you home when you could have done it a long time ago,” soshiro’s father scolded him. his stare at soshiro was that of disappointment, which quickly disappeared when he looked at you. “ah, my dear, come on in, hurry, come on in,” he turned and said to you, inviting you in. the hoshina patriarch had always been fond of you - soshiro’s parents had wanted a daughter and they found one in you.

soshiro rolled his eyes. “my father’s favorite child is my girlfriend, great,” he muttered.

the maids made you a great dinner, cooking soshiro’s favorite food per his father’s request. conversation was light, and it was apparent that the old hoshina wanted to catch up so badly on how his son was doing, inquiring in consecutive questions about soshiro’s rank in the unit, his experiences so far, and his long-term plans in staying with the force. soshiro’s replies are detailed, but you know he intentionally did not mention all the instances where he almost died fighting.

soshiro’s father regaled you both with stories of soshiro’s childhood antics - “do ya remember, my dear, when soshiro tripped and fell on his face after training with soichiro? we were so worried, but he only fell asleep,” he recited the memory as if it was just yesterday., his kansai accent thick on his words. the tension that had lingered in the air had dissipated as you finished your meal.

“i had the guest room prepared for ya so ya can rest for tonight,” soshiro’s father had said when his son cut him off.

“no, we can sleep together,” soshiro declared, and thinking it might have sounded improper, he spoke again. “beside each other, i mean. in my room. because we’re tired. from travelling all day," he attempted to clarify but failed.

“ah, may i look forward to a grandchild soon from ya two?” color drained from your face as you slowly closed your eyes. you fought off a laugh but failed.

“ya may, but we aren’t doing that here of all places,” soshiro argued just as his father had turned his back on the both of you, amused with himself. at least now you know where soshiro got his sense of humor.

the hot shower felt great against your tensed muscles, and if you weren’t that exhausted, you would have opted for a bath instead. soshiro wanted to speak to his father alone, so when he ushered you inside his childhood bedroom, he’d let you know that he would be gone while you were cleaning yourself up. you were relieved; you haven’t seen your own father since you were a teenager, and it would be a shame to see it happening to the person you care about the most, not if you can do something about it. and this is not to say that you wanted to fix soshiro’s life - you pointed this out to him once - but he’s had a terrible habit of holding back and assuming the worst, so you had decided that if you could help him out, you would push him to the right direction.

“didn’t ya pack clothes?” his eyes were on you immediately after he came in, finding you on the bed with your phone, wearing his shirt.

“i did, but yours look better,” you replied, holding your arms out and showing him how oversized it is on you - the sleeves are passed your elbows, the hem reaching the middle of your thighs.

“they look better on ya, i agree.” he sat on the mattress for a few moments before lying down, his legs dangling off the edge of the bed. “ya all good?”

“i am,” you said to him. “especially because i scanned yer photos when ye're still little while ya were gone,” you informed him then showing him a folder you created in your device - baby hoshina soshiro folder, you named it - full of duplicates you made of the framed pictures of your boyfriend all over the house. there’s one where he didn’t have any hair at all; there’s one where he was close to crying but appeared to be keeping the tears in; there’s one where he was missing a tooth but smiling like there’s no tomorrow. soshiro moved to take your phone away, but you were quicker than him.

“this is payback, for all the times ya weren’t talking to me.” you were alluding to the three long months when you were still an applicant to the defense force and soshiro acted like you were a stranger. he had apologized for it already, but it is nice to make fun of him sometimes so you brought it up. “that hurt my feelings, ya know.” you laid down beside him, invading his personal space, your shoulders touching his.

“i was stupid”, he said. “and it’s not like i could have come up to ya and said, hey i’m sorry for leaving ya in himeji, by the way i’m crazy for ya.”

“and all those times i thought ya had something with commander ashiro, oh god!” you exclaimed for effect. “by the way, the other recruits thought the same.”

“it’s not like that between her and me.” his gaze on you was brief. “it’s not like that with anyone else.”

“it better not be, because i’m leaking all yer baby photos to the first division if ya mess up,” you threatened him despite not needing to.

“i promise, i won’t.” he grabbed your hand from your side and linked it with his, cradling it to his chest before bringing it to his lips. “i’m not that stupid.”

soshiro’s childhood room was what you would expect from a teenage boy: a king-sized bed, a bookshelf of manga, a cabinet showcasing knives and blades. you never had the opportunity to enter his room even when you were kids, you realized. you looked up to the ceiling and you saw green dots that formed shapes - makeshift constellations, you recognized the patterns - little plastic stickers that you glue to surfaces. “are those supposed to be stars?”

soshiro sighed, his arm on top of his face. “yeah, uh - remember when uh - i think that was in junior high, and ye're so into astronomy? i thought it’d be a good idea to know the names of the stars to impress ya, so i started trying to memorize them.”

you shifted to face him, speechless. maybe if you had known this, if you had known the other things you are certain now that soshiro had done and was willing to do for you, you wouldn’t have wasted years questioning your place in his life and deciphering his feelings. a wave of warmth washed over you as you reached out and lifted his arm off his face, meeting his eyes.

soshiro’s lips felt as soft as it looks like, you thought as you kissed him. you pushed yourself into him, and he pulled you tighter until it seemed there was not enough air for you to breathe - until your chests were pressed together it was as if your hearts were beating as one. something sparked inside you; the sensation of being so close to soshiro about to consume you from within. his hand crawled to your hips and remained there. you drew back a bit after that, and when you saw the panicked look on his face, you kissed him again.

“i love you,” you told him in between pants.

the night went on, and by the end of it, hoshina soshiro discovered that his favorite sound is you moaning his name.

[shaunamilfman]

you must like me for me [2]

summary: You weren't sure what you did to piss off Shauna Shipman, but you've been on the receiving end of her death glares for just as long as you can remember. If looks could kill you'd certainly be six feet under, but hey–it's kind of hot, right? For better or worse, everything changes after a run-in at a party. Part 1 | Part 3

“Come on,” Nat protests, pointedly glancing at the hickey displayed proudly on your neck. “Spill. Who was it?”

You shake your head with a grin as you look over at her. “Not telling.”

Nat groans exaggeratedly. “Fine. Whoever it is is Shipman-level crazy because I swear haven't seen your neck in weeks–”

She trails off at the sheepish look on your face. “No fucking way. You've been hooking up with Shipman? Shauna Shipman let you get within three feet of her?” You bristle at the utter disbelief in her voice, honestly a little offended, before you decide the disbelief is more on Shauna's personality than your ability to pull her. 

“Could you announce it any louder?” You say wryly. 

Nat scoffs. “No one would believe it even if they heard it.”

“Yeah, but Shauna would.”

Nat's eyes widen slightly as she glances around to make sure no one hears you. You give her an amused look as she rolls her eyes. “I'm not, like, afraid of her or something. But the last thing I need is for her to sic Jackie on me.”

You nod slowly, and she elbows you in the side in retaliation for your disbelieving hum. You rub at your side with a wince; Nat really could pack a punch when she meant to and– like this time– even when she didn't. Her face softens slightly at the motion, but she doesn't otherwise acknowledge it. 

Nat never likes to acknowledge when she feels guilty about something, choosing instead to just bottle it up and stew on it. You think it's dumb to ruminate on something that's already stopped hurting, but you know Nat wouldn't appreciate you acknowledging it.

She's a lot like Shauna in that way, you've realized. You're not quite sure which one of them would win in a brooding contest but you think it might be a close call. It's strange to think about Nat and Shauna being similar in any way, but as you've spent more time with Shauna you've really started to question why you didn't get along well in the first place. 

It's not like you've spent a ton of your time together talking– far too occupied by the thought of burying your head between her thighs to exchange pleasantries– but you've really grown to like the snippets of her personality that shine through.

She's argumentative with a mean streak a mile wide, sure, but she offered you a pillow for your knees once so you figured it probably evened itself out. Right? Granted, you only needed the pillow because she kept you kneeling on her hardwood floor as she insisted for another round but you assured yourself it was the thought that counts. 

Shauna was sweet in her own way, you reasoned. Sometimes you caught her giving you the sweetest little smile out of the corner of your eye when she thought you couldn't see it, quickly turning it into a frown the second you turned your head fully to face her. She bemoaned your presence in her bed the second you were finished fooling around, but you kept yourself from commenting on the way she immediately wrapped herself around you. Sometimes it pays to be the bigger person for once. Truly you couldn't leave if you wanted to: she's a hell of a lot stronger than she looks. 

Shauna never seemed warmer than in the afterglow, almost eager to climb into your lap or hold you on hers. The distance that she was always so careful to put between herself and others made bridgeable for just an instant as she allowed a vulnerability that was as rare as it was captivating. It felt like a privilege to be granted access to her like this, a part of her that she kept under lock and key. In those moments it was just the two of you, like nothing else matters. Like nothing ever mattered but her.

It was the quiet intimacy between you in a few moments of stolen affection that kept you coming back, unable to stop yourself from seeking her out even as you reminded yourself time and time again that it was a bad idea. It was a bittersweet connection you shared, but you can’t find it in yourself to resist it.

In summary, you’re fucked.

You push the thought out of your head, shifting focus abruptly as you elbow Nat back even harder. Nat grunts in pain, almost wheezing as she grabs at her side. She glares at you with teary eyes, but there’s a slight quirk of her lips that betrays a small hint of amusement. She shoves you backward a few steps, but you quickly recover as you start to laugh. That is, until, a force comes slamming into your shoulder and sends you stumbling back.

As you catch your balance again the shock of the collision fades, quickly replaced by blinding anger. You almost swung on her purely on instinct until you caught sight of a flannel-clad arm just in the corner of your vision. 

“Oops,” Shauna mutters, voice dripping with insincerity. Your immediate confusion cools the edges of your rage, leaving you on edge and a little unsure as you stare at her. You’ve seen Shauna start plenty of shit, sure, but she’d never even bothered to interact with you at school before. You weren’t even sure what you could have done to set her off this time. 

“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” She continues, seeming annoyed at your continued silence. You glare over at her as you rub at your shoulder, but it doesn’t seem to affect her anyway. She stares impassively at you, tilting her head to the side with a sarcastic smile as if daring you to do something about it. Shauna’s nonchalant demeanor does little to alleviate your growing irritation as you stare at her, rolling your eyes before looking around the hallway. 

There are a few curious eyes on the both of you, but they quickly look away the second they catch you staring back at them. Students shuffle past and around you, talking aimlessly and oblivious to the standoff between the two of you. 

It’s as if Shauna’s testing your patience, a subtle plea for your attention masked under a detached smile. If she wanted to see you lose your composure you certainly weren’t going to give her the satisfaction.

No matter what she was trying to get out of this little stunt– and you’re sure there was a reason for it no matter how impulsive she can act– you're content in knowing you’ve gotten something from it too. She looks so pretty when she tries to stare you down, a growing irritation bubbling on her face as you take a moment to take it all in. Although you resent her attempt to intimidate you, there’s an undeniable allure in her audacity.

Shauna commands your attention even in the busy hallway, standing unperturbed as the crowd parts around her with her shoulders squared and chin lifted in a silent declaration of defiance. There’s an intensity to her eyes that borders on a challenge, a well of determination hidden behind her steely indifference. You meet her gaze head-on, almost smiling as a flash of surprise crosses her face.

You love it when she gets like this. There’s a deliberate wildness to her appearance, a calculated messiness that only entrances you more. She faces you with a practiced air of indifference that does little to hide the barely contained rage just under the surface if only you knew where to look. She constantly teeters just on the edge of control, on the verge of striking out at the slightest provocation. She’s an absolute force of nature, more than willing to take down anything that stands in her way.

Choking down your initial urge to confront her, you take a measured breath before giving her a wry smile. “Watch where you’re going next time,” You say evenly, emphasizing each word.

Shauna’s eyes narrow, her face faltering for just a moment. “Sure thing. My bad,” She replies casually, a hint of mockery in her voice as she tries to bait you again. Her frustration is almost palpable as you let the challenge go unprovoked once again. You shake your head in amusement, tearing your eyes away from her as you turn back to Nat.

Jackie, who’s been looking confusedly back and forth between you, grabs her by the arm and starts trying to drag her down the hallway. “Shauna wasn’t looking where she was going,” Jackie apologizes with a pinched smile.

She seems surprised when Shauna digs her feet in for a moment, tugging again as Shauna finally relents and lets herself be pulled away from you. Jackie’s fingers are wrapped tightly around her forearm as they walk off but Shauna doesn’t even seem to notice it as she finally drags her eyes away from you as they round the corner.

“What the fuck was that?” Nat mutters. You shrug, shoving your hands in your pockets as you feel for the edge of your lighter. You give her an easy smile as you find it, rubbing your thumb aimlessly across the surface as you push off the locker.

“Should probably get to class, yeah?”

Nat stares irritatedly at you for a moment before shrugging.

…

You tap your foot against the ground impatiently as you lean against the wall outside, starting to regret ever deciding to wait Shauna out. She was later than usual and you were starting to wonder if she was ever going to get out of the locker room. You knew from experience that you had a good twenty minutes in between when Shauna left the locker room and when Jackie did, but then again Shauna usually knew you were waiting for her. 

You wondered idly if Shauna was making you wait on purpose, a little power play that you wouldn’t entirely put past her. Sometimes you thought she got some thrill out of knowing you were waiting around for her, but you couldn’t entirely blame this one on her. Maybe she’s gotten caught up in her own little world as she waited around for Jackie, unaware she had someone impatiently waiting for her outside. Still, you had a sneaking suspicion that Shauna wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to sit in her car alone to write angsty prose in her journal while Jackie was busy talking with their coach.

You imagine her now, sitting sideways across the seat with her journal propped up on her knees as her pen moved furiously across the page. It’s a sight you’ve become all too familiar with lately; Even the sound her pen makes as she presses down just hard enough to threaten to rip the page in her anger has become oddly soothing. Despite her hidden penchant for dramatics, you find that there’s a surprising depth to her, one that extends far below the surface of any ideas you’ve previously held about her. There’s just something about her that resonates with you on a visceral level, lingering in your thoughts long even when you’d rather push her aside.

You’re almost embarrassed at how attractive you’ve started to find her brooding. She just feels everything so deeply, and you find yourself captivated and frustrated by it in equal measure as you try to rationalize her behavior. You knew that there had to be some reason behind whatever little stunt she was pulling in the hallway, but for the life of you, you just couldn’t find a reason. You want there to be a reason.

You need there to be a reason, otherwise, she was just pushing you around for no reason. You never thought you’d see the day when you were excusing one of her moody rituals, but you’ve become smitten with her despite your better judgment. Shauna could be mean, as you well knew, but you’ve never known her to be cruel. You so badly want that to be true, even as you keep getting the sneaking suspicion that she’s just toying with–

Ah, footsteps. You grin.

You wait a minute for her to pass by you before you push off the wall, trailing a few steps behind her as she walks toward her car. She turns suddenly as she reaches it, obviously hearing someone walk up behind her. The anger in her eyes fades the second she catches sight of who it is, a moment of unease passing over her face as she sizes you up. “What are you doing here?” She asks, not prepared to find you here and seemingly off balance

“What was that, earlier?” You press, momentarily distracted by the faint sheen of moisture that still clings to her skin after her shower.

Shauna huffs, her eyes rolling as she makes a half-hearted attempt to open the door of her car. You step forward and slam your hand against the top of the door, cutting off her retreat and effectively trapping her between your body and the door. You’re almost annoyed by her lackluster attempt– did she seriously just try to hide in her car? She looks pissed as she glances between you and the door, clearly realizing she’s going to have to confront you one way or the other. You’d take either, honestly, as long as she addressed the tension between you. You were getting sick of letting her set the pace all the time.

Her narrowed eyes betray her irritation as she looks up at you, but there’s a flicker of something else in her expression that only makes you want to push her more. A long moment of silence passes between you, Shauna’s heavy breaths as she tries to reign in her anger the only sound you can hear. This silent confrontation is unfamiliar, a definite departure from your usual dynamic that seems to make Shauna equally uncomfortable. As the seconds tick by, Shauna's seemingly detached confidence begins to falter, revealing the cracks in her armor as she finally gives in.

“What was what?” Shauna asks finally, more uncomfortable with the silence stretching between you than any desire to actually have this conversation. You’ll work with what you get.

“That shit you pulled in the hallway. Seriously, Shipman? You shoulder-checked me.”

“Just a little bump in the road,” She says with a careless wave of her hand, her tone bordering on indifference.

You sputter angrily over your words, hating the way she managed to work you up over nothing. “Seriously? A ‘bump in the road’? That’s your idea of an apology?” You snap.

“Of course not,” She says, giving you a wry smile. Shauna seems to get a perverse sort of pleasure from getting under your skin. You just wish you didn’t make it so easy sometimes. “I wasn’t apologizing.”

“God, Shipman. You’re so fucking irritating I–”

“Shauna!” She snaps, interrupting you mid-sentence and leaving you momentarily flustered. Your eyes narrow in confusion as you try to gather your thoughts.

“What?” You ask dumbly.

“You’ve had your tongue in my mouth. I think you can bear to call me by my name, can’t you?” Her words hang unanswered in the air, and you’re left speechless and a little embarrassed by the implications of her words. You feel a twinge of unease at the declaration, unsure how to respond as you stare blankly at her.

“What? Nothing to say?” She prods, immediately getting self-conscious in your continued silence. An embarrassed Shauna was a dangerous Shauna, as you well know.

“You had so much to say to Nat earlier,” She spits, mockingly imitating a high-pitched laugh.

“Is that what this is, Ship– Shauna? You’re fucking jealous?”

“What? Fuck off.” She scoffs, noticeably not meeting your eyes. You almost laugh in her face. Shauna was many things, but a good liar was certainly not one of them.

“Well, as long as you’re not jealous then,” You say dismissively, on the verge of losing your temper.

“Of course not,” She agrees, nodding solemnly.

You groan, casting a glance away to hide your irritation. There’s just something about her that was constantly leaving you torn between attraction and exasperation. Whatever.

You knew how you could get both out at once. You tilt your head to the side, a questioning look on your face that Shauna quickly answers with a knowing look as she closes the distance between you. Communication may not be your strong suit, but there’s one thing you both seem to excel at. 

You press Shauna further up against the car, tilting her head to the side to expose the length of her neck. You press your lips against her neck in a quick kiss, soothing the area before bringing your teeth into play. Shauna cries out at the sting, hands grasping at the back of your shirt as she tries to pull you as close as possible, lost in the feeling.

Her breath starts to come out faster, her chest rising and falling in time with her excitement as her fingers dig into your back. You shudder at the feeling of her nails scraping against your skin through your shirt as she tries to regain some semblance of control over the interaction, but it’s clear from her reaction that she’s rapidly losing that battle. Shauna’s voice cracks halfway through a breathy insult as you nip at the crook of her neck, one hand falling from your shirt as she pulls you closer instead by your belt loops. The movement of her hips is subtle at first, quickly becoming insistent as she parts her thighs. You try not to think about how public it is, or that someone could see it.

She gasps as your teeth mark a trail across her skin, leaving small little marks behind you know she’ll only resent later when she has to try to explain it to Jackie. Unfortunately for her you rather enjoyed being on the receiving end of that rage– there was just something about that fire in her eyes. You catch sight of her, her flushed skin and parted lips taking your breath away.

She comes back to herself for a moment, a heady mix of passion and possession on her face as she takes you in. “Mine,” She whispers, her voice low and rough as she reaches a hand up to tangle it in your hair. She states it like it was a simple fact, and you hate the way that you want to agree with her. It doesn’t seem like she cares much for your opinion either, tugging you down by the hair as she crashes your lips together.

So, yeah. You didn’t quite get the confrontation you wanted this time either. What you did get was having to book it as you heard Jackie making her way toward the car, leaving a flustered Shauna to fix her mused hair and pretend like she hadn’t just been riding your thigh as Jackie rounded the corner. All in all, you consider it a win.

…

You can't make out the sounds of the argument happening outside the door over the sound of the ringing in your ears, but you weren't in the right mind to care about it anyway. You absently note the thumping sounds of boots making their way down the hallway as you catch sight of your flushed face in the mirror, breath still heavy with exertion as you cling to the edges of the counter with trembling hands. In the more rational part of your mind, you know that the counter isn’t the only thing anchoring you to the moment, but you cling desperately to the semblance of control gained from its unyielding support.

If you were more cognizant you'd be upset about the state of your favorite jacket, sleeves spotted red with the evidence of your anger. You didn’t know whose blood was on your hands, yours or his, but the distinction felt pointless. At the end of the day one of you was bleeding and it was entirely your fault. You exhale shakily, trying to take deep breaths to tame your racing heart as it beats through your chest. You stare into the mirror at your disheveled appearance, face bruised from the few shots he'd managed to land in return before Nat dragged you away. Your reflection gazes back with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. You're oddly resentful of its silent witness to your emotions, its red-rimmed eyes serving as lasting evidence of your weakness.

The floorboards of the hallway creak as someone takes a heavy step forward, leaving you whirling around at the sound of the door opening behind you. Your eyes narrow as you catch sight of Shauna standing in the doorway, a strange intensity in her eyes as she takes you in. The room feels heavy with the weight of the words left unspoken between you, a strange tension filling you even as you push it from your mind in favor of gripping the counter as you struggle to rein in your emotions. Your hands slide on the slick white countertop, already stained with your bloody fingerprints. 

You feel a pang of regret at the sight, quickly replaced by another wave of rage as you remember what started it. Maybe you shouldn't have hit him that hard, but he definitely should have known better than to make Jackie cry. If it hadn't been you it would have been Shauna– which, when you think about it that way, you were sort of doing him a favor in a roundabout way by sparing him from her wrath. She would have done much worse, after all. 

You freeze for a moment, a sudden consideration of how your actions must have looked from the outside. God, the last thing you needed was Jackie following you around like a lost puppy. You can almost picture it now, Jackie linking your arms together and talking your ear off while Shauna shook with rage on her other side. Maybe you'd get lucky and Jackie would be too drunk to remember, sparing you from her well-meaning but seemingly suffocating affection.

You were a little resentful that she got involved in the first place. You didn’t need anyone to stand up for you, and if you did it certainly wouldn’t be Jackie Taylor of all people. Still, when he started running his mouth about insults you’ve long since grown immune to, Jackie was the first person to jump to your defense. You weren’t sure quite what you’d done to gain her fervent loyalty, but you weren’t sure you wanted it either. You think you might need to find a way to lose it sooner than later before it gets you into more trouble: you always were a sucker for crying girls.

A hand rests heavily on your shoulder, dragging you forcefully back to reality. You instinctively shrug it off, holding her wrist tightly between your fingers as you turn to face her. The two of you lock gazes for a long moment before you finally look away, loosening your grip but still holding her wrist in your hand. You think for a moment about lacing your fingers but quickly decide against it as you drop her hand entirely. It serves to ease some of your tension, shoulders relaxing as you lean back against the counter to scrutinize her. Shauna’s watching you just as closely, eyes lingering on the developing bruises on your face before settling on your hands.

You sigh as you turn back around, turning the tap on as you try to clean your hands off. “Where's Nat?”

“Managed to run her off,” Shauna says, stepping up to the side of the sink to watch.

“Nat's not one to be pushed around. Must've tricked her into thinking you aren't a heinous bitch.”

She shrugs, the quirk of her lips betraying her amusement. “It’s a gift.”

You scoff, letting it go unanswered as you gently dry your hand off. Shauna looks disappointed as you pull your now clean hand out, an unsubtle motion you’re too nervous to question.

“Why’d you do that?” She asks finally, her voice tinged with an unusual hint of urgency.

“Do what?”

She doesn’t relent, gaze piercing as she presses on for an explanation. “Start a fight over Jackie.”

“Who says I did it for her? Did you hear what he called me?” You deflect, starting to walk out of the bathroom before Shauna grabs tightly to your wrist and turns you around. You meet her eyes with practiced disinterest, hoping to avoid this line of questioning. You weren’t sure she’d like your answer, far too tangled in emotions she prefers not to address. You consider just saying it outright, putting the truth out there and making her deal with it however she wants. But the moment soon passes, too afraid of it blowing up in your face.

There are a lot of questions you want to ask her that you know she’ll only sidestep, distracting you with glimpses of skin till you relent– it’s almost nice to be the one withholding answers for once. 

“You’re so frustrating, you know that? You give me such a headache.”

“Is that why you’re always in such a shitty mood?” You quip, unable to resist the urge so clearly presented to you. You smirk as you watch her reaction. Her jaw clenches, a flash of irritation crossing her face before she looks away. She’s tense for a moment before nodding stiffly. There’s a strange vulnerability in her begrudging acknowledgment, seeming almost impressed.

Shauna reaches for your face with deliberate slowness, like she hadn’t quite made her mind up on touching you before she started reaching. Despite your initial urge to back away you decide to let her, tilting your head along with the motion of her hand as she directs your chin from side to side to get a good look at you. The weight of her eyes is almost suffocating as she closely examines the contours of your face. She carefully traces the bruises with her fingertips, a surprising tenderness that you’ve only come to expect after hookups.

It feels strangely out of place now, leaving you stiff and unsure as you allow the gentle caress. You can’t help but wonder what she’s looking for if she’s searching for signs of weakness or simply concerned. It’s a complex thought and one that you don’t usually allow yourself. What if?

“You looked hot,” She says absently, snatching her hands away from your face as if the admission burned her.

She looks as surprised as you feel, her mouth opening and closing before settling on a simple, albeit cutting remark. “Hope your face gets better. It’s the only thing you’ve got going for you.” 

The comment stings just like she knew it would, but the flicker of regret on her face is far more interesting. You find yourself holding your breath, daring to hope that she might finally say something real.

Shauna stops in the doorway, looking like she wants to say something else before she shakes her head and turns on her heels. You stare in her direction as she disappears from view, the sound of her footsteps carrying to the stairs until all you’re left with is silence.

[stayinlimbo]

she kissed me and i tasted you again

summary: the second worst thing to happen in minho’s life was losing you. he’s still living with the first.

pairing: lee minho x f!reader genre: angst (and i mean it) WARNINGS: implied character death, a non-consensual kiss, grief, drinking, swearing, slightly unedited, intended lowercase please do not read if any of these themes are triggering. word count: 1.91k note: please read the warnings! i had "leave me alone" by daniel seavey on repeat while writing this. i hope you enjoy ♡ please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are always appreciated

minho shouldn’t have listened to chan. 

the blend of colorful strobe lights, though vibrant, does little to illuminate the dark room he finds himself in. the smell of alcohol and smoke permeates the air, stinging his eyes and nose as he blindly pushes through the numerous people blocking his way. an involuntary gag almost escapes him at the overwhelming body odor of the man he just brushed past.

at first, a “boys’ night out” to end a stressful work week didn’t sound like the worst idea minho had heard come from his friend’s mouth. now, though, the combination of being pressed between sweaty bodies and the mediocre club music pulsating in the background was reason enough for him to want to end the night prematurely and return to the familiarity of his home.

but he can’t. not if he wants chan’s disappointed face to haunt him for the rest of the weekend.

because chan is just trying to help. or at least that’s what minho tells himself every time he is dragged out of his small one-bedroom apartment to entertain his friend’s version of fun. last week was camping, which minho would normally enjoy if chan had bothered to check the weather forecast’s warnings of heavy rain and strong winds (he only lasted twenty minutes before sprinting back into the car, forcing a reluctant chan to take him home drenched and in a darkened mood).  

the thinning crowd reveals minho’s destination; the bar is too small for the number of people surrounding the countertop but chan’s broad stature is identifiable enough in the poor lighting for minho to walk over and squeeze himself beside him. on the other side of his friend, a woman holds chan’s attention as the two talk animatedly about somethi- 

minho’s eyes widen, sparing his friend’s back an incredulous glance. his pulse quickens, a rapid rhythm pounding in his chest, as snippets of their conversation reach his ears; the phrases knows how to cook, really good dancer, three cats, single, spew haphazardly out of chan’s mouth and echo in minho’s mind. the woman’s cheerful laughter resonates against the music's throbbing bass and the blood rushing in his ears. 

oh. oh. they’re talking about him. 

“chan,” minho’s voice is a low murmur, barely audible enough for the older man to hear, “what’re you doing?” 

minho’s question hangs in the air as chan’s rambling suddenly stops, carefully turning his body to face minho’s intense stare. 

the discomfort radiating off the younger is obvious. shifting in his stance, minho can’t help the slight furrow of his brows; the hardness of his eyes wanes as they flicker between chan and the woman before finally resting on his friend’s face.

softly exhaling, chan gives him a knowing look. 

fuck. 

minho remains silent as his grip on the bar’s edge tightens, avoiding chan’s sympathetic gaze. he knows what’s coming—the well-intentioned yet painful words that carve a hole in his heart every time they are uttered:

“its been over a year, minho. she’d want you to be happy… i want you to be happy”

minho’s eyes screw shut at his friend’s words.

perhaps it’s the pitiful expression etched on chan’s face, mirroring the ache minho feels within his own chest, or the alcohol flowing through his system that makes him truly consider the weight of the elder’s words. or maybe he’s seen enough of chan’s desperate attempts to mend the fragments of minho’s shattered heart, only to reveal more irreparable damage. 

he’s right…

“just try, okay?” chan quietly pleads.  

regardless, a small nod is all he manages to give in response. minho opens his eyes, tracking his friend’s movement as chan gives his shoulder two reassuring pats before walking away from the bar and disappearing into the sea of bodies. 

…you’d want him to be happy. 

“hey” 

flinching, minho snaps his head in the direction of the feminine voice. his posture straightens, a tight lipped grimace threatening to reveal itself.   

oh, right, she’s still here.

a hesitant smile graces the woman’s expression. the gentle glow of the pulsing lights caress her face with various colorful hues, the radiant shadows enhancing her black-dressed figure as she grabs her half-full drink from the countertop. taking a small sip, her eyes glaze over his tense form. a soft chuckle escapes her glossed lips as she locks her eyes with his. 

minho won’t deny it; she is beautiful. and he must’ve been staring too much because her name falls on deaf ears when she attempts to introduce herself.

“...hello? you are minho, right?” the woman questions, eyebrows furrowing with slight doubt. 

“uh, yeah i am, sorry,” minho answers, his sweaty hands fumbling to grab chan’s left-behind soju, ultimately choosing to shove them into his pockets instead. he can feel the awkwardness emanating off of him, filling the room with a lingering tension he doesn’t know how to escape.

the woman’s smile widens, eyes crinkling with pleasure at his reply. 

well, she doesn’t seem to notice at least.

“ah, great! chan, i think that was his name, was telling me all about you. you have a really dedicated wingman.” 

“yeah, he’s a good friend. i’m lucky to have him,” minho sighs, turning his body to fully face her. 

“you’re a dancer, right?”

the rigidness of his stance loosens slightly at the comfortable subject. talking about himself isn’t hard; it never has been.

“mhm, i’m a dance teacher for a studio nearby,” minho replies, a faint smile playing on his lips. the flow of conversation remained focused on him: he’s been a dance teacher for three years but has danced since he was in middle school. yes, maybe he’ll audition for a company one day. yes, he has three cats named soongie, doongie, and dori. 

the passage of time blends together with their laughter. the nameless woman’s drink has long been finished and replaced with a new one. chan’s soju finds its way into minho’s hand, nursing the bottle carefully as he finishes it with a final swig. the stress mounted on his shoulders has finally lifted, the buzz of alcohol brushing the pain off as they rise and fall rhythmically at her drunken attempt to finish recounting an embarrassing date.

“do you live alone?” the woman’s speech is slightly slurred, tone breathless from laughter. a lopsided grin adorns her features, as if she already knows the answer, “i forgot to ask you earlier.”

minho’s smile begins to fall. “no, i told you about my cats, remember?” 

“i meant do you live with another person? a roommate? chan told me you used to live with your ex, so i was just wondering if anything had changed since then.”

the room freezes over. icy tendrils of shock and disbelief squeeze his hammering heart, his blood running cold at the woman’s words. his ex?

silence fills the tense space. the intensifying pain from his clutch on the soju bottle thrusts him back into his dreadful reality. he lets go, placing his hand flat on the counter.

minho sucks in a deep breath. “oh. what else did chan tell you?”

“wellllllll,” she drawls, a flirty smile appearing on her face. the shadows seem menacing now, their elongated forms dancing along with her slow, deliberate words, “he said you needed help getting over her.”

the woman reaches towards him, fingers closing firmly on his forearm. minho doesn’t have time to react before she lurches forward and seals her lips with his. 

the kiss lasts for two seconds before she pulls away. paralyzed, minho can’t move until she attempts it again, forcefully shoving her away. tears well into his widened eyes, quickly threatening to spill onto his cheeks. the transferred lipgloss feels sticky against his mouth.

“get the fuck away from me, now.” 

the woman doesn’t move, her mouth stammering as she tries to form a coherent sentence. “i-i’m sorry. i was just trying to-”

minho doesn’t wait to hear her justification, swiftly pushing away from the bar and stumbling in the direction of the exit. the rush of air as he pushes the door open makes singular tears streamline down his face. the chilled breeze burns his eyes as they dart around his surroundings lit by the sparse scattering of street lamps. 

no, he really shouldn’t have listened to chan. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

minho doesn’t know how he made it home (well, actually, he does but he’d rather pretend he doesn’t than admit that chan saw his distressed state leave the nightclub and called him an uber).

the taste of the woman’s lipgloss remains on his lips, no matter how many times he tries to wipe it away. he hates how he doesn’t hate it because it tastes like you.

you, who wore the same strawberry lipgloss every time you went on a date, only for minho to kiss it all off by the end of the night. 

you, who was so excited to move in with him in this small, dingy apartment until the two of you could find a better place; a home.

you, who promised you’d be right back before kissing his cheek and heading out the door.

you, whose hands he will never hold again. 

you, whose spot on the bed his cats now sleep on every night.

you, who one year, four months, and six days later, still occupy his every thought. 

you– a sob wracks through his body, echoing around the bedroom’s walls. the empty mattress trembles with him as he curls into himself, breath hitching with every whimper of your name, as if calling it enough times would bring you back into his arms once again—right where you belong. 

no, you were never his ex. you were everything. you are everything. 

your presence is everywhere in the apartment. your favorite coffee mug (that he gifted you) rests on the counter next to his. the book you swore you would finish reading one day is left bookmarked inside the drawer of the bedside table; the same place a velvet box is tucked away and hidden since he knew you’d never pick it up again (but god, he wishes you did). he had to throw away your toothbrush but your skin care products taunt him every time he retrieves his from under the sink. 

his heart aches with a feeling that refuses to fade; he loved you. he loves you.

everyday becomes harder to breathe, to exist. the apartment, once filled with loud laughter, gentle whispers, and promises of love, is now a silent void. the absence of your soft footsteps, a careful dance to avoid stepping on the cats crowding around your feet, claws at minho’s heart. the sanctuary he knew he could run to and be welcomed with open arms and a warm embrace crumbled before his eyes the moment you were gone.

minho’s breaths evens out after a few minutes, each inhale pulling the familiar scent of the apartment. the tears leave damp marks on his pillow and lines on his face but its nothing he isn’t used to; a ritual, a routine he’s sadly accustomed to. it's not the first time his tears have stained the sheets, and it won’t be the last. the cruel cycle will repeat itself until one day he wakes up and doesn’t instinctively reach out for you in hopes that his reality isn’t just a hellish nightmare. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

the second worst thing to happen in minho’s life was losing you. he doesn’t know if he can keep living with the first.

────────────────────────────────────────────

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

[galaxymagitech]

❄️🌩️ :)))

WIP Ask Game

Thank you for the ask!!! I'm working on fics for Duke Thomas week right now (and once you cross the line) so...

❄️: Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

“Sometimes,” Alfred says quietly, “we choose to fight. Sometimes, the fight chooses us.”

You chose me, Duke thinks. Not the fight. You. You chose me, and Izzy, and Dax, and Shug-R, and Riko, and all the others. You chose Troy.

🌩️: Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

I am so lucky I am working on one of my rare semi-humorous fics, because I am normally working on like...20 angst projects and 0 fluff/humor fics. But! Duke Week has inspired me, so here's a snippet from a fic currently in the editing stages where Izzy, Duke, and Riko go to a haunted house attraction:

“Okay, I thought this place was gonna be scarier,” Izzy says. “I mean, it’s Gotham. They gotta do better than severed heads. I see those for real.”

“Screaming severed heads, though?” Duke asks as a low, menacing laughter sounds behind them. It’s different enough from the Joker’s high-pitched cackle that, although it makes Duke’s skin itch, he doesn’t do anything more than walk a little faster.

“Didn’t your new big bro do something like that?” Izzy asks.

Duke winces. Three guesses as to which ‘big bro’ Izzy is talking about, and the first two don’t count. “Did he?”

“They weren’t screaming,” Riko says matter-of-factly. “Just severed. Maps told me. And Robin told her.”

[caramel-catss]

trilogy (chapter 1: rabbit)

on ao3

word count: 26.5k

the first chapter of my links meet au

Three strangers, connected only by the triangle on their hands, join forces to save a dying world. Through hardship and healing, they will become family.

chapter art by @clowns0up-felix :)

(below is a snippet, the full is too long for tumblr lol)

Soft hands glide through Link’s hair. They untangle knots, picking out dirt and various pieces of grime. A warm, uncalloused palm brushes against Link’s cheek.

Even with closed eyes, Link knows who it is. She comes every night.

Link reaches out and grabs the retreating wrist. “Don’t go,” she murmurs.

A gentle hum pauses—one Link hadn’t even registered.

“I can’t stay,” Marin replies. She trails her finger around Link’s freckles, drawing constellations.

“I want you to.”

“I can’t.”

Link huffs; she’s always been the stubborn one, and Marin can’t win her out now. She doesn’t let go. Marin laughs, all chimes and Sea Lily bells. The free hand returns to Link’s hair.

Marin begins her song again. Link leans against the other’s lap, resting on her side. Her fingers drum a tempo for Marin’s melody.

In the distance, a voice calls. Link ignores it.

It calls again.

Marin says, “Your uncle wants you, Link.”

“Mm,” she replies.

The hands cease. “Link.”

“Don’t wanna.”

Marin gently flicks her. “You lazy girl… Come on.”

Link blinks her eyes open—only to catch Marin’s face before she goes—and meets a wooden wall. Shuffling footsteps sound behind her. She blinks.

“Link,” her uncle is saying. “It’s time to wake up.”

With her sword on her back and apples in her pouch, Link leaves Uncle’s house. She has a small list of chores: buy a red potion for Uncle, sell yesterday’s harvest, and get the Book of Mudora back from the Sage. 

Link fishes through her bag for an old plain blue ocarina. Zelda says that she’s insanely unorganized, but Link doesn’t care enough. She eventually finds it and calls for her bird, directing it to the Magic Shop. She haggles Maple down to 100 rupees—far better than she’s usually able to get—and sets off again for Kakariko.

Most of Uncle’s apples are reserved for cooking, making preserves, or just as snacks. The rest, Link is sent out to sell. They go for 15 rupees each, which isn’t much. The price is really a formality; Link’s more than rich from all her dungeon crawling, plus they’re on a royal pension.

The point is, they sell out quickly. Link’s there for less than twenty minutes before she’s brought down to her last three apples. She doesn’t mind all that much—anything that lets her leave Kakariko sooner. There’s been a lot of apologies over the past few years, but nothing can stop her nerves when she enters this place.

A figure comes into Link’s view. She straightens from where she was leaning against the weathercock (her makeshift stand). When she realizes who it is, though, she relaxes.

“Hey, Zel,” Link says.

Zelda huffs, not unkindly. She’s wearing a plain, tan dress. “Don’t announce me to the whole village.”

Link shrugs. “Want some apples?”

Her half-sister’s eyes flick to the three apples sitting on the weathercock. “Are those your last ones?”

“Yup.” Link nods. “Then I’m heading to the Sanctuary.”

“I’ll buy out your stock.” Zelda takes out three rupees, two red and one blue.

“Hey, thanks.”

Link starts to trade the items. Zelda says, too casually, “Can I walk with you? Over to the Sanctuary?”

“Mm.” Eyebrow raise. Zelda shakes her head, nothing urgent. “Sure.”

They take the eastern exit. Zelda sets a slow pace. Link fiddles with her medallions, curling the chain around her finger.

Zelda’s always been upfront—she speaks up soon as they’re out of earshot. “I had a dream last night.”

“Shocker.” Link is flicked on the ear.

“You know that’s not what I mean, idiot.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. What happened?”

Zelda’s eyebrows furrow. “That’s the thing… I can’t make it out. The world around me wasn’t Hyrule, but… it felt so familiar.”

“Could be a different time,” Link suggests. “Or a neighboring country. Heard anything from Labrynna or Holodrum?”

“No, and I don’t think it’s either of them.” Zelda pauses for a second. “It’s… There was blood all around, but I couldn’t see it… like it had seeped into the ground itself.”

“An old battlefield.”

“Something like that.” They’re nearing the Sanctuary. “There was new growth on top of it… and the plants were reaching for me. That’s when I woke up.”

Link hums. “Weird, but doesn’t seem like a prophecy.”

“Except all my dreams are prophecies,” Zelda argues. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Maybe I’m overthinking it, but I just… I don’t know. I worry.”

“It’ll be okay, Zel. I can and will fight, so if anything does happen—”

“That’s exactly it, though.” Zelda’s tone makes Link pause. “You’ve… It hasn’t been that long since you… you know. You’re my little sister. I don’t want you to be thrown back into that so soon.”

Link bites at her cheek. Oh, that’s what this is about. Ever she returned to Hyrule last year, Zelda’s fretted over her more and more.

“I’ll be fine,” Link mumbles. “I’m doing better now, anyway.”

“If you…” Zelda trails off. They stop at the Sanctuary door. “…Keep taking care of yourself, okay?”

Link nods. “Okay.”

Zelda bids her goodbye and peels off back towards the castle. Sneaking in, no doubt. Link showed her the way last year.

Before she enters, Link sighs. She knows Zelda only means well. And, sure, the past months have been… rough. But Link can still hold her own—if nothing else, during combat. She’s only a year younger than Zelda, too! She just… Whatever.

Link grumbles as she elbows the Sanctuary door open. She greets the Sage, who tells her to wait a moment while he gets the book. Fine by her. Link retreats to one of the pews, opting to lean against it instead of sitting in it.

She whistles a short tune while she waits. Or, tries to—Mamu’s song comes to her mind first, but it’s way too fast for her to whistle. Link gives up after a few moments and instead opts to pull some hair out of her face. She pauses.

The Triforce on her left hand is glowing. Glowing more than usual, that is. Streams of magic trail down her skin. It’s warm, dripping holy and golden.

“Shit,” Link mutters. Her mark flashes, and the world goes white.

(read the rest on ao3!)

[respectthepetty]

Background Noise in Wandee Goodday

This started because of that "First Kiss: Do you believe in first kiss?" poster Yak ripped in the elevator

And I was going to write something about the importance of clocks in Yak and Dee's relationship

Since they made a deal to fake it for four months, the clocks are always present

And counting down their time together.

But then I also wanted to write about Yak still seeing his necklace on Dee when he imagined Dee kissing Ter during his boxing match.

So instead of writing small separate posts, everything is going here in quick snippets starting with the how Yak's life is all about boxing, all the time.

He has the boxing gloves name plate, and so does Yei

He has nothing but pictures and books of boxers all over his room

His clock has a pair of gloves in the center and his decorations all have boxing gloves, say "eat, sleep, box, repeat," and show a boxer with the statement "I am the best"

The posters over the bed and the pictures on the nightstands are of him and his brother in their boxing gear.

And even the pictures in the house are of boxers, and of course the smiley face boxing gloves.

So I liked that the smiley face gloves tied to the smiley face balloons Yei gave Cher.

I thought about mentioning the signs, but we all see those, so instead I'll focus on shirts, like Dee's shirt is three angels with "Saint Michael" and says to "Say a Prayer and Get Lost in the Flames." Saint Michael is the ultimate protector against wickedness and temptation, yet the shirt says to embrace it. Yak's shirt says "love is giving freedom" and is part of a longer lesson about love not being about possession or control but about love setting people free.

About Last Night is an American romcom about two people who have a one-night stand and fall in love. The original and remake both show the couple's ups and downs with communication as they deal with their shifting feelings.

When Yak goes over for dinner and finds Dee in Ter's apartment, his shirt says "Casual Active Original Wear" yet the only part we ever see throughout the entire sequence of events is "CASUAL"

Normally, Yak's shirts are motivational, like "Success"

And leading up to Yak's fight, his shirts become more motivational like the shirt he wakes Dee up in states that winning is a mental game.

"Good things are coming"

And how even though going uphill is hard and going downhill is easy, the uphill battle is best because the view is better.

But the best shirt is when he excitedly goes to his appointment after his one-night stand with Dee since it says "Heart Melt" and explains that a heart melts when a person begins to have feelings for another person.

Dee also gets sentimental after they listen to the song together on the balcony about loving someone because his shirt says "Relation: Friendship involves a lot of love"

I'm sure the "Favorite" shirt has meaning since he is wearing it as he thinks about missing Yak, but I just want everyone to know that is Monument Valley in the picture which is part of the Navajo Tribal Parks (woot woot!), and I'm proud to see it in a Thai series.

Finally, I would just like to appreciate whoever put Inn and his arms in this "Heavy Metal" shirt.

[sunboki]

⎯ boy of the forest. ( teaser ) ⟡ featuring yang jeongin

🦌 : Greek god! Yang Jeongin x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. Greek mythology! au, Son (unofficial since Artemis swore to celibacy) of Artemis! au, mortal! reader au, slightly sheltered Jeongin (he’s so respectful i wanna cry), fluff fluff fluff, best friends to lovers, teaching how to kiss, so soft

WORD COUNT. estimated to be around 6k words

WARNINGS. usage of arrows, mention/heavily focused on greek gods/goddesses, mention of animal bones, inclusion of a venomous snake, playful fighting

AUG'S NOTES. alright, as someone who’s a sucker for anything Greek Mythology, this was exciting!! but difficult (😭😭). for now you’re only getting a snippet, but combining my past knowledge of these myths and their capabilities and merging it with more modern ethics is like getting a bucket of ice water dumped over my head and having a field day all in one. it was worth it :) anywho, please tell me what you think!!

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Since you were a child, both tales and encounters with the children of the gods became a prevalent pattern in life. Friendship with Hermes’ son, those early morning by the water allowing interaction with Poseidon’s child. And yet, your intrigue upon hearing word of the unofficial offspring of Artemis, sired under her teachings and oaths in a forest most avoided drew you infinitely closer. So what happens when curiosity gets the best of you?

or alternatively :

How quickly one can turn from a stranger to a beloved.

“I— I forfeit!”

Shouts Han, smacking the skin of your thigh repeatedly for you to loosen your death-like grip around his head.

Either of you furiously tussle on the muddy ground of Sokcho’s eastern coastline as if routine, where utter delight in each of the messenger-to-be’s visits end in a few new bruises and a judgemental eyeball from your father when you trudge through the door.

With him being the son of Hermes, your daily visits from Han Jisung had been shortened to weekly once he became more and more occupied taking up his role as the messenger god’s offspring, so you truly give it your all each time his face comes into view.

Which usually means bowling the boy over the moment his winged-shoes touch ground.

Of course, all in good fun. You’ve known the kid since you were a child, listening with wonder as he explained all about his life in Olympus, his father, Hermes, his abilities.

Upon first glance he appears a normal, awkward teenager, but gold coloration swimming within his irises and superhuman reflexes, stamina, and speed, you knew better than to believe that.

Luckily, he gives you a fair fight whenever you spar, ensuring no foul play leads to unfair victories. 

Meaning: you win, every time.

Breathing in a huge gasp, the both of you collapse onto sodden soil, chests heaving to replace expelled air. Of course, getting kicked in the stomach and returning the favor with a solid punch to his jaw didn’t help with that factor.

“Three… Three weeks,” You pant, the equally grimy back of your hand swiping strands of hair from a sweaty forehead. 

Han mindlessly grunts from below you, body refusing to move even a mere centimeter.

“Yeah yeah, I get it. I’m nothing against you, rub it in.”

You croak a laugh at the sheer exasperation in his tone, accustomed to your feigned gloating antics.

“No– That’s not it Sungie, I just wanted to say.” Using your arms to hold you up while surveying the similarly battered man whose head rests on your stomach, you tip his chin upwards with a finger, forcing those irrevocably hypnotizing eyes to meet yours.

Never sunken, tired.

Han Jisung was a marvel.

And for a moment, he begins to think you’ve grown soft after these years.

“I still won.”

Nevermind.

Whining with dismay, he takes the hand you extend out to him upon standing, earning a playful smack to the shoulder whilst collecting the shoes so carelessly discarded up by the dunes.

Feet sinking into the warm sand below, you’re offered a moment to spare a glance back to the lapsing waters, tumbling over themselves with morning’s ferocious tides. 

This is the only time you usually get to see him, and as if a mere memory, he’ll disappear all the same.

Townspeople were never fond of children of the gods. They spoke of mischief, ill-doing in response to their appearances. 

A long-lived grudge, one from ancestor after ancestor. And yet, most chose to live ignorant to the swirling deities all around. Those more gracious sunny days when someone mentions Helios, or the subdued waves compared to that of merciless plunder ashore by Poseidon.

As a result, Han never stayed long, leading you to arrive by this peculiarly isolated portion of the beach at dawn for his quick stops before flying off.

You didn’t mind. It was worth it in the end. 

Early wake-ups, that is.

Arriving randomly and becoming a part of you habitually. Like an old cut turning into a scar, commemorating happenings of the past.

It didn’t take your father long to grow curious over what his daughter rushed off to every day. And so, about a year ago, you told him. All about Han’s sudden presence, then developing into a friend–a best friend.

Fortunately, he wasn’t upset in the slightest. Initially disbelieving, perhaps, but not angry nor discontented.

In fact, the man seemed more interested than anything, asking you abundant questions about what he looked like, his features, aptitude.

You didn’t blame him, for it wasn’t every day news of an interaction with the ancient bloodline was spoken of.

Instead, you indulged in those child-like curiosities just as avidly as he inquired, resulting in frenzied conversation at the dinner table for a multitude of hours that night.

“Jisung!” 

Having called his name after the harsh knock back into reality, you fish through your pockets before he leaves in recollection of something you’d been wanting to give him.

The boy’s face deadpans, obviously awaiting another one of your tricks.

“If you flick me off, I’m never coming back.”

Fretful shuffling dulls his mumble inaudible, merely humming in acknowledgment and successfully clutching the metal between your index and thumb after panicked searching.

A pin, like that attached to tote bags, jeans. 

“For you to put on your bag, so you can think of me all the time.” 

The wink of yours causes him to wrinkle his nose and stick out his tongue at you, and you can’t help your smile from growing bigger and bigger the longer he investigates the apparent pin you’ve placed in his palm.

“Is this… a pigeon?”

Out of all the birds you’ve been teaching him about in your realm, he had to pick the most pitiful one.

“No! We studied this one! It’s a hawk, y’know since you’re kind of like a bird?” Flapping your arms to sell the idea, he huffs in exasperation, nonetheless fitting the pin to his satchel overflowing with envelopes.

“Alright alright.” Laughing at the pout tugging at his lips, it’s almost instinctive when you press a sugary sweet kiss to his cheek, soaked up gleefully by Hermes’ son like always.

Han Jisung is very much adoring of your affection. Frankly, any affection overall.

“Think it’s about time you get going, delivery boy.”

Flying into your arms (both figuratively and literally), he places his own kiss to your opposing cheek, grinning that irritably charming grin ceaselessly worn.

Guessing what he’ll say next comes easily, but you still entertain the remark anyway.

“Now our kisses complete each other!” He predictably exclaims, beginning to levitate as the miniature wings on his sneakers beat tirelessly. “See you soon Y/N! Stay safe!!”

Waving in response while he drifts further and further into the atmosphere, you wait until his figure is officially gone to move, stepping toward the dock. This way, you can secure the best view of the sunrise peering above clouds without any interruptions. 

Ideal.

Truthfully, it never irked you being a mortal amongst your assortment of acquaintances.

You enjoyed it, actually. 

Freedom without responsibility to save from evil left you plenty of time to explore, to exist. Not that you didn’t respect them, but the experience seemed too tasking for your liking.

“Back again?”

Speaking of acquaintances.

More specifically speaking of Poseidon as a pair of calloused—though gentle—hands fasten around your calves dangling off the dock’s edge, dragged into the chilly depths below before you can reply by none other than Chan, or, using his birth name, Christopher Bahng.

Son of Poseidon.

Ironic.

Not to mention are there any daughters of the gods..? Jeesh.

Anyway.

You half expected him to tap your shoulder and say hello when hearing him approach from behind as he normally did, the creaking in the dock’s wooden panels enough indication your friend was present on most occasions.

Although unlike Han Jisung, Chris was sporadic in his visits. An old friend from school, he chose to keep his identity a secret, allowing the eccentric father of his to care for the seas while he led a human life teaching kids how to swim at your town’s aquatic center.

Upon finding you speaking to Han in his natural form, a year or so ago, the man eventually found ease in your company as well, comfortable revealing himself and oftentimes showing up to simply converse without turtle necks or high-collared swimsuits concealing the set of gills right below his ears.

In actuality, a part of you was happy he had to hide his gills—meaning that swoon-worthy mop of curly blond hair could grow out, curling behind his ears and furling into wild strands atop his head. 

It didn’t take a genius to note how attractive Christopher Bahng was, and you certainly weren’t immune to the effect.

Careful grasp of your hips reminding you you’re safe, mere moments prevail before breaching the water’s surface, complaining about the cold while the bear of a man practically suffocates you in his arms, twisting side to side in a tight hug despite your ingenuine anger swallowed beneath laughter.

“Seriously, you can’t just do that! I might die of shock one day.”

“Well you’re definitely not that weak from how beat up poor Han looked,” He giggles, gliding with ease through chilled waters no matter your weight, courtesy of his bloodline (and whatever hell of a workout regime he followed).

About to retaliate, you pause, contemplating.

“Hey! You should’ve told me you were watching,” Stubbornly insistent, you allow the gentleman to lift you back onto the dock, his own gill-retaining form remaining in the water beneath your faux glare.

Something he grows sheepish in regards to before pointing to a blanket behind you.

So your near-drowning experience was pre-planned. 

Jerk.

Although you don’t deny the goosebumps littering your arms and legs, hurriedly wrapping the warm fabric around yourself.

“Nah,” He smiles, fingers carding through unbearably endearing locks. “I wanted to see how it played out. You’ve improved a lot.”

Reaching his hand upward where you can return the fist-bump, you nod at the compliment, referring to the fact Chris taught you how to fight in the first place after your many losses against Han’s sneak attacks, something the latter still moped over to this day. 

“Thanks to you,” You add, not missing the dimples dipping into his skin when he grins. 

So. Very. Attractive.

Both turning to witness the fullness of today’s dawn, you can’t help but soak in the sight, carving each detail into your memory. 

How lucky you are to get to see something this striking, the sky painted in innumerable streaks of warm hues.

“Say,” Redirecting his attention back to you, you balance your jaw on your hand, the pretty view provoking a bit of thinking.

“Are there any other god’s here? Or like, children of the gods?”

Assessing your question, Chris’s eyes surf his surroundings thoughtfully, wracking his mind for anyone he can think of.

“Hm,” A decisive grunt sounds where a tugs a plush bottom lip between his teeth. A sight as easy to get infatuated with as the sunrise.

“Han’s an exception since he pretty much drops by everywhere, and I’m over here because of the ocean and the location but uh… there might be? From what I’ve heard there’s likely at least one other here. You might have better luck asking Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin being the son of Eros, god of love. 

Someone you’ve never met, but both Han and Chris relayed he’s the epitome of beauty.

Coming from them, that’s a feat.

You deflate.

“In Seoul?”

Yeah, no way you’re finding a way to Seoul for that. Bus fees, subway fees, coming up with an excuse to your dad? Not happening.

Chris, realizing the unrealistic circumstance, deflates along with you, expression apologetic that you hope to condole with a reassuring smile.

Noting the rate in which your clothes are drying thanks to the warmth of the sun’s rays, you gather your things, stalling when your friend—now drying off beside you—speaks up again.

“Ah, right! There is one! I’ve only met him a few times before at meetings and gatherings, but he’s the son of Artemis– well, not by birth but that’s a long story- and his name is… Jeong? Yin? No no, it’s Yang, Yang Jeongin! Yep, that’s the guy. He’s a little shy but a real cutie.”

Cringing back from the sly manner he nudges your shoulder, the high, mischievous lift of his brows indicate nothing but trouble. 

If this is the mischief the townspeople mentioned, you’re starting to understand now.

Who knew the son of Poseidon was turning into a figment of Cupid?

Then again, you don’t think you’ve ever heard the name before. 

Waving goodbye and thanking him for the help, your hike toward the road fills with nothing but wry banter and playful insults from the older one until dividing separate ways.

Him to the aquatic center to prep for class, you back home.

Routine.

Not-so-gracefully peeling frigid clothing from your body, the warm water of your showerhead after sneaking through quiet halls to the bathroom is greatly welcomed, mind racing while attempting to focus on sudsing shampoo into your scalp. 

But when you close your eyes, reevaluation of past events and retrieval of a specific memory breach the forefront of your mind.

Yang Jeongin.

He’s giving you something to think about.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[dive-through-time]

Time is a hypocritical construct (Righteously, it wipes out all of us)

TW: Uhhh... mentioned character death and mentions of blood. CXS might be having a panic attack towards the end, I'm not sure-

(Song title from KAT - "Mastermind")

Interesting for: @star-tb @theparadoxunlocked

Out of all the tasks Cheng Xiaoshi had to do around the studio, cleaning had to be his least favorite.

Dusting off the shelves, wiping down the counter, cleaning the picture frames on the walls... it took ages and was oh so boring. Even the steady flow of music through his headphones didn't make it any more fun.

He hummed along anyway, tapping his foot to the music, and moved back a bit to look over the wall. Satisfied, he took a step back to look over the pictures. He dusted his hands off, happy to find that they were spotless again, and clapped his hands together.

The one thing he didn't take into consideration were three things.

One, he was looking at the pictures.

Two, clapping activated his ability.

Three, these were the new pictures he'd developed today. He'd never taken a dive into these.

So when he blinked, he found himself holding a familiar camera while in a body that was not his own.

Most dives were similar to Cheng Xiaoshi, because possessing people always felt... off. Like the body he was in wasn't his own. Which, honestly, was the truth.

So when he found himself in the sunroom, camera trained out the window at the sunset, it immediately clicked for him just who he was possessing.

Somehow, he'd never possessed Lu Guang before. It was jarring. In more than one way.

He glanced at the time and date and frowned softly. Cheng Xiaoshi recognized it. Nothing special happened, besides Lu Guang taking some photos for their website.

He tried to ignore the memories poking at the back of his mind, not wanting to invade his best friend's privacy. He wasn't some love-sick school boy!

Actually, scratch that.

Maybe he was a little love-sick... but he was good at hiding it! Or at least he hopes.

"'m sorry..."

Oh, that was his own voice. He squeezed his eyes shut. "No no no, I don't want his memories. I don't" he whispered to himself, fully convinced.

Usually, he was glad about getting some memories. It made it easier to fall into his role, to become whoever he was portraying and follow Lu Guang's script.

Dives without Lu Guang had happened... maybe thrice before. Two of those recently, with one of them being a dive into quite literally the present by looking at an active security camera recording.

The one during the fight in the darkroom didn't count. Those were just brief leaps.

He wanted to clap out, but his own voice, weak and trembling and saying words that he can't remember ever saying, left him rooted to the spot. Golden eyes staring at the counter in silent horror.

"To keep me alive- you mean the death node, don't you?"

"That is exactly why you shouldn't have talked to other you. And you're not supposed to know about what happens to you in other timelines"

"It doesn't matter if you know about it or not. It'd be better if you didn't…"

That was it. The last straw. With a shaky breath he gave up on trying to fight back the memories wanting to flood into his own mind.

Ususlly he didn't concentrate too hard on the snippets of memories. Even old people's memories weren't very overpowering. That way, he tended to process most memories via dreams.

Instead he was processing the memories now, and couldn't help but feel sick.

The memories were... a mess. He remembered snippets of Bridon. Of the photo shoot, of Lu Guang talking to Vein.

"Your friend seems to be in some trouble" Vein lowered his phone, tone light, gesturing towards the building he himself had gone into that day, "I'll go lend a hand and will be back soon"

He started walking, stepping down the stairs. Lu Guang wasn't moving. Wasn't speaking until Vein was already half-way down the stairs.

"Do you really think I'd believe that?"

The quietness of Lu Guang's voice startled him, despite how normal it was for him to be quiet. It was still loud enough for Vein to hear, who let out a huff of a laugh and turned back, offering a smile that was more amused than confused.

"What? You think you can stop me?" he asked, as if both of them knew something that Cheng Xiaoshi hadn't known. As if Lu Guang knew that Vein was planning something other than 'lending a hand'.

He still vividly remembered the confusion he'd felt when Vein barged in and shot him with a tranquilizer. Lu Guang had known? But why...

"Do you know the butterfly effect?" Lu Guang asked, "In a dynamic system, any subtle changes in the initial conditions may lead to a different outcome"

Cheng Xioashi knew. It was among the first things Lu Guang had explained to him, a frequent lecture. Still, he felt dread rising in his chest as he watched the memory play out.

"I've been thinking, how to change a destined ending completely"

No. No no no. He couldn't believe that. Couldn't believe Lu Guang... what was it he always said? Past and future, let them be? Why would he say something like that, when he always told him not to change the past?

"If there is an additional point before this... An unchangeable point. What will happen? No need to fear the deviation. Just let it happen more completely"

He felt sick. All this time... ever since Bridon... and Lu Guang had never told him any of this? That he was trying to change destiny? But why? For who?

"Looks like I made a mistake" Vein spoke in the memory, pointing to his own head. "You're the one who should be going for psychological counseling. Are you out of your mind?"

"I know I can't stop you" Lu Guang smiled. He could feel it, even if he couldn't see his expression, stuck in a memory, stuck as a silent presence seeing through eyes not his own. "But... I can make you stay a bit longer"

Stay longer...? Wait, but that meant...

Vein stared at him, silent, and smiled when Lu Guang told him that he could go in now. "Once this is over, how about we grab some hotpot together? I'd like to hear what the original outcome was"

"I hope we won't meet again"

Lu Guang had known. He'd known that Vein would have a heart attack. So why did he...?

He remembered just a couple days ago, the memories flowing more and more naturally. The day Lu Guang had a nightmare. He zeroed in on that memory, shaken by the previous memories of the things that had left his (or rather Lu Guang's) mouth.

But... it was different. It was wrong. That wasn't how- oh.

Oh no.

Tears burned in his eyes, throat closing up. Memory after memory... he looked at the world from Lu Guang's eyes and all he wanted to do was scream. Scream and cry and clap out so he could shake Lu Guang by the shoulders.

None of that ever happened! It made no sense! He never got into a fight in an alley, not recently, never kissed Lu Guang, never-

Running. The memory feels off. There's fear. Enough that even in the presence, just "remembering" it makes him feel weak in the knees.

Then there's himself. Bleeding out on the ground, by the river. Dying. A desperate attempt to call an ambulance. Panicked reassurances, blood, so much blood-

"There won't be a next time..! I got this, you'll survive, you'll survive, everything will be fine here- I promise, I just-"

"H-Hey, Guangguang... it's okay... I trust you"

No.

"Stop saying that! I don't want to do this again I want to stay here with you..."

No. Please no.

"Please, hang in there, you will stay alive, please.."

"Don't... Don't want that either... sorry, 'm gonna... try harder..."

Please don't let this be true.

"Don't... don't cry. We'll be fine... right...?"

"Just a few more minutes, you are strong enough...please.."

"... hey... Lu? I'm... I'm scared"

"... I'm here with you... it's- gonna be okay.."

"... promise?"

He clasped a hand over his mouth, shaking. He felt sick.

"I promise... I'm gonna save you this time..."

"Don't.... don't forget to tell me that you love me... when... when I wake up. Gonna... gonna be sad otherwise..."

A tear slipped down his cheek. Then another. The camera almost dropped from his hands. He set it down hastily so he wouldn't break it, at least a small part of him remembering that he should avoid causing damage.

He didn't want to think about this. He didn't. He should clap out, leave before he messed up the timeline. Have a breakdown over this in his own body, in his actual time.

He glanced to the clock and froze, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes and taking a shuddering breath.

Cheng Xiaoshi was about to clap when the door opened.

"I'm baaack!" his own voice called out, cheerful and upbeat. Shit.

His heart... no, Lu Guang's heart did something funny there, seeing the bright smile he, in all honesty, only ever gave Lu Guang.

For a second, Cheng Xiaoshi feared he'd kneel over and have a heart attack. How did Lu Guang manage to stay composed like this, with his heart doing sommersaults and... oh.

"Next... next time tell me your feelings immediately... please. Don't... don't wanna wait again..."

He swallowed, hard. Mouth suddenly painfully dry. His head spun.

Oh.

This was a lot to take in at once. It was too much to take in at once. Never could he have imagined that Lu Guang... He dropped his hands beneath the table (offering a brief "Hello" to himself in hopes of not causing any concern, praying that his voice was steady) and clapped them together.

He stumbled, the second he was back in his own body. Breath short and ragged, eyes burning. His chest hurt. Something wet rolled down his cheek.

Cheng Xiaoshi heard a door open, heard a familiar voice call his name, distantly, and in a moment of panic hurried into the darkroom, sliding the door shut and locking it.

He choked back a sob, not wanting Lu Guang to know where he is, not wanting to face him right now. He slid down the door and to the ground.

The world becoming a muddled mess of the red lighting of the darkroom, a distant voice that he usually loved and memories that weren't his own but would never leave him again.

Distantly, he couldn't help but think that so many things made sense now.

[serenpedac]

from the RO rumble - Yael x F? and maybe Gabi x Tina ?💖

Thank you so much, Alps and @delucadarling <3 These were a delight to write!

Yael and F (Felix or Farah, I don’t think there would be much of a difference for her) would be lovely together. If she wouldn’t be together with Nate, she’d be with F. They want similar things: a serious relationship, building a home. F is more outgoing and open, which would be unexpected for Yael, but it would be a very pleasant surprise.

Their fingers brush as he hands her one of the balls of fluff, the light touch sending sparks skittering through her body and making her heart stutter. Judging by the way his smile widens, Felix notices her reaction, or maybe he feels the same. That thought has her own lips curving into a smile to match his.

“On three?” Yael asks.

Suddenly serious, he nods, turning his gaze to the seeds and their fluff that are all that remains of the dandelions that had bloomed a yellow as bright as the summer sun. As bright as Felix makes her feel.

She bites her lip as if it would do anything to stop from smiling, then starts counting, “One, two, three.”

Each of them blows, the air filling with wisps, white against the clear blue sky, before the wind carries them away.

I wish… Yael closes her eyes as she empties the last air from her lungs.

When she opens them again, Felix is watching her, sunlight reflected in his golden eyes. “What did you wish for?”

She laughs, shaking her head as she discards the slightly sad looking, bald stem. “That’s not how this works. If I tell you my wish, it won’t come true.” Or maybe it will be bad luck, or something like that, she’s not quite sure, but she does know that her wish feels too fragile to share.

He shrugs, the gesture easy, and smiles. “No harm in telling you mine then, because it already came true.” When she tilts her head, he looks at her from beneath the curl of his dark lashes. “I wished for you.”

She forgets to breathe, forgets about anything that isn’t him as she closes the small distance between them to press her lips against his. Her hands cradle his face, while he pulls her closer by the small of her waist, until they are flush together. As her lips part at the touch of his tongue, she hopes he knows that he was also her wish.

~*~*~*~*~*

Gabi and Tina also make me very happy, because, well... I'll let the snippet speak for itself ^^

“… and one white chocolate mocha with extra caramel syrup.” Solomon wrinkles his nose as he give the cup to Tina, who beams brightly.

“Thank you!” She takes the lid off to inhale the steam coming from the cup stamped with Haley’s logo, then says to Gabi, “You want a sip?”

He raises an eyebrow when Gabi accepts the cup and drinks. “I was under the impression you didn’t much like coffee?”

“I don’t, but this is…”

“Pure sugar?” he offers.

Tina lets out a gasp of mock offence. “Pure perfection, you mean.”

“I can feel the enamel of my teeth decay from the smell alone.”

“Exactly!”

Gabi laughs, and now that is a sound he doesn’t hear often and certainly not as of late. It makes him smile as well. She has had a lot on her plate, and if Tina’s influence makes things a little lighter for her, well, who is he to lecture them about the questionable amount of sugar?

Tina's curls bounce as she tells a story, Gabi's body angled towards her, their knees just touching, and Solomon watches as he sips his bitter, black coffee with a smile.

[iolypse]

hi hi I posted about this a while ago, but since it's nearly done, i'm asking again!

is anyone interested in potentially beta-ing for a drv3 chapter 5 fic? it's a hanahaki au in which kokichi kidnaps shuichi instead of kaito, and it makes all the difference. there's gonna be sixteen chapters. as of now, fifteen chapters are written, and it's a bit over 64k! it does get quite gory at times, as is the nature of hanahaki aus.

I'm mainly looking for some people to help spot issues with pacing, grammar/spelling errors, characterization, and flow. you will, of course, get great praise and endorsement within the notes of the fic itself once it's posted (the plan is to post one or two chapters weekly once it's all edited)!

a snippet from chapter two can be found below!

A grin spreads across Kokichi's face; he spins another lie with all of the theatrics Shuichi has grown to expect of him. Elbows propped on his knees, face in hand, he leans forward. "You're talking to the reigning Jacks World Champion right here!" he crows. "Ten years and counting."

Shuichi narrows his eyes, studying the claim. "If that were the case, that'd mean you won your first championship when you were around six," he concludes. As much as it might be possible for someone who's cultivated that talent their whole life, Kokichi is the Ultimate Supreme Leader, not the Ultimate Gonggi Player. It's definitely a lie.

Kokichi scatters the makeshift pieces and begins his game. With practiced ease, he grabs one and tosses it lightly into the air, quickly snatching another from the pile before catching the original in the same hand. He repeats the process, adding wrappers to his collection with each toss.

"Is that really so unbelievable, though? Kaede was probably doing world-class piano recitals in the womb," Kokichi muses— her name alone makes Shuichi flinch. He's playing so quickly, Shuichi has a hard time keeping up with him; he's unable to suppress a flicker of amazement as Kokichi flawlessly clears the first stage of the game in the time it took Shuichi to succeed a single throw. There's an intense look in his eyes Shuichi recognizes from when Kokichi played the knife game so long ago— an unwavering, confident focus.

He scoops up the wrappers, scatters them again, and moves on without hesitation. This time, he pitches one ball into the air but grabs two from the floor before catching the first again. Kokichi plows onwards undeterred, "Hey, how old do you think Maki was the first time she assassinated someone? I bet she was, like, eight! No, nine."

"That's— what's wrong with you?" Something sick twists in Shuichi's gut, and the moment's charm immediately sours. He prays Kaito returns with food before Kokichi can spoil his appetite.

"Ten? Eleven?" With a few flicks of his wrist, Kokichi clears stage two. Not breaking stride, he begins the third stage, flinging a wrapper up, grabbing three at once, and catching the one first thrown.

"Kokichi." Appetite spoiled. Great.

"What? Aren't you curious?" Kokichi finishes the next round and disperses the wrappers again, his hand darting forward like a striking snake. Grinning smugly, he tosses one piece into the air and deftly grabs all four from the floor before safely swiping the initially thrown wrapper. Stage four complete.

Shuichi sighs and deigns not to reply. All five balls in a fist, Kokichi tosses them up, then catches them on the back of his hand with a swift flourish and a smirk. They roll back and forth unsteadily between his knuckles, but balance out with a bit of effort. He continues, "You have to admit that it's an interesting occupation of choice. Only psychopaths would ever do something like that."

He doesn't know her. Shuichi can understand his resentment towards her given the two separate times she's grabbed him by the throat and held him aloft, but he's the one who provoked her in the first place. "You're sick."

"And twisted!" Kokichi cackles and throws the pieces again. Shuichi zeroes in on them; this is the last part of the game. If Kokichi manages to catch all five of them— well, Shuichi isn't sure how, exactly, Gonggi works, but he's fairly certain it means Kokichi wins.

The wrappers fall in a tight, spinning arc, just close enough together that Shuichi's convinced Kokichi will be able to perfectly snatch them into the palm of his hand, and then—

— every single piece scatters across the tiles as Kokichi doubles over and begins to hack his lungs out.

[sofa-king-lame]

Buck and Eddie roadtrip in Texas 👀

Ok so I actually started writing this one MONTHS ago and then abandoned it, but now (after 8x08) I feel like I could pick it back up again with better added context.

Basically they go on a road trip (like maybe they fly to Austin for an event or something and decide to hire a car and drive back through El Paso to get Chris or something). Buck isn't sleeping bc insomnia is a bitch and Eddie researches the shit out of different techniques he can use to help Buck.

Here's a snippet:

--

“Have you tried jacking off right before you go to sleep?” Eddie asks as Buck leaves the bathroom and Buck walks right into the arm chair. 

“The fuck, Eddie,” he groans, bending over to rub his poor dead pinky toe. 

“Sorry, just checking. It’s an obvious one though, so...” Eddie trails off and looks at Buck pointedly. Buck wants to die. 

“Yes, Eddie, I’ve tried that. Didn’t help. Next tip, please.” 

“Counting sheep,” Eddie suggests. He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed in just sweatpants and Buck still wants to die. 

“Oh yeah that’s super fun until my brain can’t stop counting and suddenly it’s 4am and I’ve visualised seven fucking thousand sheep jump over a rickety wooden fence,” Buck snorts. He slumps into the armchair and rubs his eyes aggressively, listening to Eddie’s breathing. The room is (creepily) silent and Buck’s skin is prickling. 

“Visualise moving all the furniture in your room,” Eddie reads off his phone. 

“Great until hyper-fixation kicks in and I get up and actually start moving furniture. Remember three weeks ago when you came over for breakfast and I was passed out on my bed against the opposite wall?” Buck reminds Eddie pointedly. “I need new mental games.” 

“Hmm. Well according to this person on Reddit you shouldn’t think of them as mental games because it’s not meant to be fun,” Eddie snorts. 

“Yeah fuck that person. Going to sleep should be fun and if it helps me to think of mental exercises as games then that’s what I’ll do, random Reddit asshole,” Buck huffs. He’s way more annoyed than he should be about this but Eddie doesn’t say anything, just hums in agreement. Buck appreciates Eddie rolling with his spiralling and not telling him to ‘just sit the fuck down and relax’ like Tommy used to. Buck wants to die a little less now, but not by much. 

“Have you tried counting backwards?” Eddie asks, tilting his head to the left a little. The gel he’d put in his hair in the morning has lost its hold and his hair flops to the side, falling over his forehead. 

“Ah see that one I’ve actually had a little success with.” Buck stands up from the armchair – his pinky toe has miraculously not fallen off and he can, in fact, walk. He sits down opposite Eddie, close enough that their knees are almost touching (because it’s only a double bed, not because Buck just wants an excuse to be close to Eddie, nope). 

“But not so much recently?” 

“I count backwards by threes starting at nine hundred and ninety-nine,” Buck starts, and absolutely does not shift slightly so that his and Eddie’s knees are actually touching. 

“Oddly specific, do explain,” Eddie muses. He still looks sleepy, despite his four-hour nap in the car. Buck wants to hold his stupid hand. 

“Doing it that way hits every triple digit – eight eighty-eight, seven seventy-seven, blah blah blah,” Buck trails off, waving his hand dismissively. “Which is satisfying but is also a pattern that my brain latches on to and after a few nights it’s not engaging enough to keep my attention and I start tuning out the counting and get distracted by other things.” 

“That - I mean I can’t relate, I don’t know what that’s like but it sounds really fucking frustrating. I’m sorry,” Eddie murmurs warmly, placing a calloused hand on Buck’s knee and yep, Buck is going to die tonight. 

--

I've written 5.3k words of this one lol. I've just got so many WIPs/fics I want to start!

[wehangout]

Shameless DVD Commentary

The wonderful @i-think-you-mean-reduction asked for a DVD commentary on Suncatcher! This was the first time I'd read it since finishing, so that was a lot of fun, too! This whole thing got away on me, so hit that read more if you want to read more 💜 as usual, thanks to @callivich for starting this awesome idea!

Which fanfic is your DVD commentary about?

Suncatcher!

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

Okay, I started posting this in March of 2022, which leads me to believe I started writing it in 2021 (I'm on a borrowed laptop, so can't check). It took some time to finish because ~real life~ and word count hits 58,592.

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

Oooh, okay. This post. If you don't want to click, it's a text post saying "au where thief!cas tries to ride dean's dick and keep track of when his flashdrive is done stealing the contents of dean's computer at the same time". Obviously, that kind of scene never happened in Suncatcher, but vibes, you know?

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

Mostly Mickey because almost everything I write is Mickey pov. But I did experiment with this by writing those 3rd person Ian snippets, and literally the only reason for it is so the reader could be there for that moment of realisation when Ian figures it all out.

What was your favourite scene to write?

I don't know that I have one, but I really enjoyed the scene where Mickey asks Ian to come to Mexico. Getting to write them being soft, even just for a minute, was nice. And literally any of their flirty banter was fun to write lol.

How did you come up with the title?

I feel like this doesn't need an explanation, lol. I will say, though, I had three other titles in mind. I had "Denouement", "Encontrar", and "Atrapasol". Encontrar means "to find" in Spanish (because I knew it would end with them in Mexico), while "Atrapasol" means "suncatcher". At least, according to Google translate lmao.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

I did a reread in order to write this commentary, so, please, have a list of moments, foreshadowing, and references.

* Mickey's nautical-themed sleeve! “Sailing? Nah, man. I just really like pirates.” Get it? Because he's a thief? And pirates steal shit? Literally no one caught onto that haha * “Uh … growing up the way I did, I’m probably better at the B&E itself rather than tryin’ to solve it.” -- Mickey literally says this in the first chapter lmao * His mind doesn’t go over every detail of the North Side burglaries and he doesn’t obsess over the thief committing them. No thief. Just a bartender. Just Mickey. -- Um, hello? * “Never gonna give that up, are we?” “Never gonna live it down.” “Those aren’t the lyrics.” “Okay, lyric police.” -- 27 Dresses, thank you * Ahh, Mickey's blowjob tattoo. The amount of erotic tattoo designs I looked at for this, but nothing was right. Until Mitch 💜 * He snorts. “Clearly you don’t know many writers.” “I don’t. Should I?” “No. They’re the worst.” -- I'm dying 😂 * Well, this really has turned into a commentary, huh? Apologies. * "A little dry, to be honest." Chapter 3 and 9. Did anyone catch that?

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

The last two chapters. Life completely turned upside-down on me and I couldn't write a thing. Zero motivation, infinity depression. Then, at the beginning of this year ... I dunno. I don't know what happened, but suddenly I was writing again and I haven't stopped yet.

Favourite line in the story?

“Catch me if you can, motherfucker.”

“Two, I give you the keys to the cuffs and leave. But first I suck your dick until you come down my throat.”

“I’ll give you what you want, Red, you just have to decide what you want more; the thief, or his mouth?”

“I didn’t do anything,” he whispers. “You did everything, Ian.”

“Interesting,” he says. “I was already half in love with you by then.” 😭

“I’m gonna fuck you now. You know that, right?” You groan and drop your head. “You might just break my fucking heart if you don’t, Gallagher.”

“So long as that lover is you, Gallagher.”

Did the storyline change in any way as you wrote the story?

Yeah, but only chapters 9 and 10. Initially I was going to write Ian having a depressive episode and Mickey talking to him about everything while he was down, but I hated the idea. I didn't want it to seem like Mickey/the thief was the cause of his episode, and I also didn't want to use it as a tool. The idea changed into a possible attack on Ian, but that still wasn't working for me. So, instead, you got the scene with Mickey handcuffed and Ian asking questions. I switched the vulnerability around and made it way more fun.

If you are writing a particular trope or genre, was it your first time writing this?

Nah. A little crime with my romance is my go-to lol

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc)

Finishing it. Kidding. Kinda. Not really.

Actually, though, the dialogue and banter is pretty good. It reads very natural, so I'm proud of that.

Are there any deleted scenes that didn’t make it to the final story?

Only what I mentioned above. I wrote the attack on Ian, Mickey sitting with him in hospital ... it wasn't good.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

Oh, the moment where Ian finds the camera and leaves it. He'd just heard Mickey tell him that he stopped watching before things got interesting, and that's what he's thinking about as he puts the camera back down with a smirk. About Mickey not stopping just as things get interesting. I had thought about writing it, too. A scene where Mickey doesn't close the laptop, working consent into it and Ian putting on a fucking show

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

I don't think so. I'm pretty happy with most of it.

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

Kinda did. Wouldn't be opposed to doing more. All the cream pie banter I'm rereading is def giving me inspo for if I write more of them oops

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc?

I think I mentioned this in the commentary for Thicker Than Forget, but Jim Morrison/The Doors lyrics. I don't know, man, it just works for me haha.

Also the name thing - Gallagher/Ian/baby and Mickey/Mick.

There's also the line "It’s gone from bartender and customer having a bit of fun flirting and teasing, to silk sheets and Nine Inch Nails pounding through the speakers." - The NIN might be a reference to Help Me (Tear Down My Reasons) 😏 iykyk

Were you nervous or excited to post this story?

Excited. Probably more excited to post ch2, though, just for the reaction to Mickey being the thief haha

Did you have a beta or a friend who helped you as you wrote?

@whaticameherefor always 💜

Ask your followers to pick a snippet (no more than 500 words) and share your thoughts about it.

@i-think-you-mean-reduction asked for the scene where Ian asks Mickey on a date which I've pasted below.

A couple of notes on it:

The Riverwalk Cocktail Festival is a real thing in Chicago

I put a stupid amount of research into finding them the perfect date and this just fits.

Reading it back, I love that the Mickey doesn't think of the thief or anything to do with that shit once during this conversation. It's just two guys who like each other, and one's asking the other out on a date. It's just happy.

I think Mickey was so surprised that Ian was asking him out that everything he said and felt and thought was genuine. He even has a moment of "Fucking finally" that he doesn't mean to say, but 100% means.

I'm sad they never did it.

“Just my gut.” He pauses. Smiles. “Speaking of … in the interest of trusting my gut with my personal life as well as my professional life, have you heard of the Riverwalk Cocktail Festival next month?” Your heart skips a beat. Yeah, you’re heard of the fucking festival, and you can’t believe Ian’s doing this. “I’ve been a few times,” you tell him. “Sandy and I go under the pretence of work, and then get shit-faced.” “Okay, so do you maybe wanna go again?” He fingers go back to the coaster, but again he keeps eye contact. “But, you know, with me instead of Sandy.” There’s nothing romantic about the Riverwalk Cocktail Festival unless you go to the Riverwalk Cocktail Festival with romantic intentions. If you go with a date then it’s stupidly fucking romantic and you and Sandy used to talk shit about those assholes every chance you got, but … But the idea of being one of those couples, of going with Ian and having it be romantic … it makes you sick to your stomach how much you like the idea. “You askin’ me on a date, Gallagher?” He stares at you, eyes wide and honest. “Yeah.” “Fuckin’ finally.” You don’t mean to say it. You think it and you mean it, but you don’t mean to say it. Ian’s smile, though, makes the slip worth it. “So that’s a yes?” “Yeah.” “Good.” He smiles. Fucking beams. “Because I’ve already bought tickets, so I would’ve been kinda fucked if you’d said no.” “You already bought tickets?” “Some might call it presumptuous; I call it optimistic.” You shake your head. “Ian, man, those tickets are expensive as fuck –” “Doesn’t matter.” “Matters. At least let me pay you back for mine.” You already know he won’t let you pay for both of them. “Not a chance. This is me trusting my gut, asking you out, and feeling really good about it.” A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth. “Oh yeah?” “Yeah.” He smiles right back. “You wanna pull me out of that good feeling, the one I get when you agree to go on a date with me, by bringing up my money woes? Or do you wanna talk about our date and agree upon matching outfits?” “You better be fucking joking.”

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story?

So, as mentioned above there was a good chunk of time where nothing was updated. If you were someone who left a kudos or a comment or messaged me on here during that time, or even continued reading when I finally updated, please know it meant a lot.