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gimmethatagustd · 11 months

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what the fire gave us (1) | jjk

You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

🔥 pairing: shadow elemental!jungkook x water elemental!(f)reader

🔥 part of a spring offering collab

🔥 wc/date: 9.7k | june 2023

🔥 warnings: major character death (doesn't occur until part 2 but i'm being nice by warning you now; not jk or reader), minor character death, referenced past murder, smut (doesn't occur until part 2), unrequited love (not between reader & jk), reference to human experimentation (nothing is described in detail), persecution of supernatural people, mentions past war, blood, injuries/violence, they all definitely have ptsd, jungkook is a precious baby boy but he'll also kick your ass, JESSI !!!!!! JESSI STANS RISE UP !! JESSI IS THE COMEDIC RELIEF !!! (at least, i find her funny)

🔥 notes: PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THE WARNINGS. there is heavy angst, particularly in part 2. i hope that you enjoy this story, even with its cuts and bruises. think of it as stranger things meets avatar the last airbender 😂

🔥 more notes: i was supposed to finish this fic in may lmfao but y'all should know by now that there's no point in trusting me to do what i'm supposed to do. i'm sorry but i will probably never change 😭 ANYWAY. this fic is gonna be over 20k, so i decided to upload it in two parts in an attempt to maintain my sanity cuz this website is trash about handling long posts. i'm almost done with part 2, so it should be uploaded within a week (i swear to GOD i mean it). also, if you follow me on AO3 you'll see that i'm posting this fic in multiple chapters. that's cuz i like the formatting of AO3 chapters better than tumblr. the formatting fits the story better, too.

🔥 main masterlist / part two

🔥 what was jai listening to? cyberpunk - ateez

moodboard credit: @btscontentenjoyer

3 MONTHS

Lookout duty is hard on you. When it’s your turn to camp out on the roof and watch for potential threats, you complain that staying awake all night is hard. Most of the other runaways are night owls, but you aren’t. You need your beauty sleep, you joke. You can’t get comfortable on the roof, even if there’s a flat landing with pillows and blankets to keep you warm.

These are a few of your excuses, but you can’t bring yourself to tell the others the truth: you are scared.

It’s close to midnight when you hear the creak of the trapdoor opening. The likelihood of it being anyone other than the group of Gifted runaways you live with is low, but you can’t trust that the impossible wouldn’t happen. You’ve seen the impossible happen far too often.

Hopping down from the old milk crate you’d been sitting on, you crouch behind a giant bean bag with your bow and arrow ready. The harness you wear strapped around your torso holds your spare arrows. It digs hard enough into your shoulder that you form blisters if you don’t wear a thick enough shirt.

The fluffy pink hair poking out of the trapdoor makes you sigh in relief.

“Hey, kid,” the pink-haired man whispers.

He gently closes the trapdoor and walks with a hunched back toward you, careful not to expose too much of his body beyond the roof’s railing. The abandoned warehouse you live in is on the city's outskirts, with nothing for miles but empty concrete parking lots and overgrown plots of land.

Still, you never know who might be out there. Although the Red Pins have only inflicted pain from within their research facilities, all the runaway Gifteds know that the government employs more than one type of evil to hunt them down.

You try not to think about them, those scientists in long white coats that fall to their thighs and blood-red nametags pinned to their labels with names you often see painted on the walls of your nightmares. Lately, the frequency of the nightmares has lessened. It doesn’t feel like it, though, when you often wake in the middle of the night to your friends screaming in their sleep while they suffer through their own trauma. You wish the knowledge that the pain of being government lab rats is something you all share could be comforting. But, instead, it only makes you hurt more.

“Yoongi,” you huff, returning to your perch on the milk crate. Now your hands are all sweaty. “You should be sleeping.”

“Hi, Yoongi; nice to see you too! Thanks for coming to hang out with me!” Yoongi mocks your voice, clearly stating what he thinks you should have said. “Oh, no problem, Y/N. I just wanted to see how you were doing and hang out with my favorite kiddo.”

You scrunch your nose at kiddo.

“I’m not a kid.”

Yoongi leans over to rub his knuckles into your head. “Nah, you definitely are.”

Despite the lack of lighting outside, Yoongi practically glows. That’s always how it is with fire elementals. It’s like they absorb all the light and let it buzz inside them. Like fireflies, you’d once told Yoongi. He hadn’t found it cute to be compared to a bug.

“If I’m a firefly, then you’re a fucking fish,” he’d teased. You’d promptly summoned water from a nearby puddle to throw in his face.

For as long as you can remember, that’s how it has been between the two of you: fire and water. A push and pull. So different that you need each other to be whole.

You watch Yoongi get comfortable in the bean bag, his skinny limbs spreading like a starfish and his eyes lifting to the sky. In quiet moments like this, you would give anything to hold him. And not out of fear like you had when the scary men came to take you away from your parents. And not out of anger like you had to when you stopped him from blowing up the research facility they’d held you in.

No, you want to hold him and for it to be gentle, soft, and peaceful.

Like now, when the world is silent except for the crickets calling to each other in the weeds and the rustle of wind in the trees.

But he thinks you’re just a kid.

You’re not that much younger than him. But, if you put in the effort to look at your relationship objectively, you’d see that Yoongi’s paternal nature comes out with you and the other runaway Gifteds. He cares for you as an older brother would.

It’s not enough for you, though. It will never be enough.

“Is everyone else asleep?” You rest your elbows on your knees and hold your chin in your hand. When you speak, you look out at the empty field.

“Hobi sneezed and blasted a hole through the bathroom wall,” Yoongi says with a low chuckle. “So me and Joon found some supplies to patch it up the best we could. I think they’re all asleep now, though.”

“How is it Hobi’s the one breaking shit and Namjoon’s fixing it?” You press your hand against your mouth to muffle the ugly snort bursting from you. There’s very little to find funny in this life, so you cherish how your chest burns with fond warmth.

“The world’s all backwards.” Yoongi’s gummy smile lights up the night and tears into your heart.

The two of you fall silent once again. Moving slowly, you reach out to hook your pinky finger with Yoongi’s, a small smile forming when you feel his pinky wrap tightly around yours.

“Where are we gonna go, Yoong?”

He watches you with eyes heavy with sleep, determined to stay up with you even though he doesn’t need to. Initially, you thought it was because he wanted to keep you company. Now, you often wonder if it’s because Yoongi is afraid to sleep, too. He never speaks about his experience at the Labs; the other runaways have learned the hard way not to ask. Singed eyebrows don’t look good on anyone.

“I don’t know.”

You already knew this would be the answer, but it scares you anyway. Yoongi always knows everything.

Yoongi lets go of your hand to sit up in the bean bag.

“Hey, kid,” he whispers. He gently presses his palm to your jaw, cupping your face. You hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch in your throat. “As long as we’re together, you don’t gotta worry about anything, okay?”

You stare at him for a long time, searching the bags under his eyes and the worry lines on his forehead.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

3 MONTHS, 1 WEEK

There’s a stream that cuts through the overgrown fields behind the warehouse. It’s man-made, flowing from a sewer tunnel beneath the cracked parking lot - and likely from somewhere else, perhaps connected to a lake beyond the woods at the property's edge. The separation between industrialization and the natural world of the unknown hurts your heart. You’d never felt longing until you found yourself inside a cage of cinderblock walls and concrete floors.

A rope of water whips across your face, drawing you from your thoughts of the woods. It’s muddy and makes your skin and clothes smell sour.

Though the air is still crisp and bites at the tip of your nose, spring came early this year. It takes minimal effort for Namjoon to draw more water from the soiled stream as it’s not frozen over like it should be. With a flick of his wrist, another rope of water hits you, this time across your chest.

“Aghh!”

“Pay attention.”

You lift your arm in enough time to block his next assault. The liquid rope freezes in the air before shattering into a thousand glimmering pieces, scattering jagged ice across the pale yellow grass.

“I’m tired of this, Grandpa.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at the pop culture reference; you’re pleased he understood. Posed to speak, mouth already opening, he barely gets a sound out before another voice bellows across the field.

“WELL, THAT’S TOO DAMN BAD!”

Hoseok isn’t afraid to be loud. He smiles, all teeth and pink tongue, and throws his head back as he cackles. Everywhere he goes, he carries the smell of spring with him - cherry blossoms and morning dew that makes newly-grown pieces of grass stick wet against ankles.

You close your eyes and let spring overpower the sour smell of sewer water Namjoon has thrown at you for the past hour. It lets you forget how your skin aches with welts and bruises.

As Hoseok bounds toward you and Namjoon, a dark tornado spins beside him. When he gets closer, you can see Hoseok occasionally blowing a small gust of air toward the tornado. It appears to be made of smoke, a gradient of grays and blacks.

“Look at this,” your friend announces with a mischievous grin. “Me and JK learned a new trick.”

With a quick snap of Hoseok’s fingers, you and Namjoon watch in patient silence as the tornado begins to slow its speed. Almost gently, the smoke curls tighter and tighter until the darkness turns into a solid mass.

Jungkook stumbles a few times as he attempts to get his footing. His limbs continue to propel his body into a small spin.

Hoseok quickly reaches out to grab the younger man. Secure hands squeeze his shoulders, and then it’s only Jungkook’s head lolling about.

“Cool, right?” Jungkook’s voice is gruff, but his lips curl into a weak smile.

Namjoon lets out a long sigh. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Although Namjoon is right, Jungkook does look like the effort of his little party trick took a toll on his body; you can’t help but match his smile. Especially when his eyes flick toward yours. You told his gaze for half a second before Jungkook quickly looks away. His cheeks flush pink, but you’re sure it’s from the exertion of all that spinning.

“I think it’s really cool,” you praise the two while elbowing Namjoon in the ribs. With a grumble, your sparring partner returns to his previous stance a few feet away.

“We should go again. Just for a little while longer.”

Every muscle in your body feels stiff when you turn away from Hoseok and Jungkook.

“I hurt all over, Joonie.”

“Let her rest!” Hoseok adds to your whining. “All we ever do is practice fighting.”

“Sparring.”

Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at the younger man. “Whatever you want to call it. I find it to be fri-”

You stifle a laugh by pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as Hoseok is tackled to the ground by Jungkook. The two men roll around, all arms and legs, kicking up dead grass and dirt. A lot of howling and teasing laughter rings through the open air.

It isn’t until Jungkook is launched into the sky by a gust of wind you know comes from Hoseok, and lands roughly on his back, that the playful fight ceases. How Jungkook lands knocks all the air out of his chest, but he laughs once his lungs start working again.

“Ridiculous, all of you.” Hoseok brushes grass from his clothes. It’s futile; they’re dirty and ragged anyway. Try as you and Namjoon might to use your Gifts to clean the clothes; water does little when there’s no soap.

“I let you win,” Jungkook teases.

Still, he stands a bit further from Hoseok than he had previously. Not far enough for anyone to notice, aside from you. You notice although you don’t mean to. It’s hard not to when Jungkook keeps stealing glances, only to look away when you try to return his gaze.

“You did not.”

“Did, too.” His insistence makes you giggle.

“And how did that work out for you? Hmm? How does your back feel? I know you landed on that rock.”

“I-It, it doesn’t hurt.” Jungkook glances your way. His cheeks are still pink. “Would take more than that to hurt me.”

“Jungkook is impossible to beat.”

You startle at the gentle voice, spinning on your heels to see Yoongi approaching the group. He’s got a leather satchel strapped across his chest and resting at his hip. It bulges with what you assume are plants and fruits scavenged from the woods.

“Boy Scouts” is what Yoongi offered when you asked how he knew so much about surviving in nature. It was peculiar; nothing about Yoongi seemed like the type. He’s tougher, more steel than wood or earth. A bulletproof shield, you think. Broad and strong.

“Impossible?”

Your question is meant to be a tease, but Yoongi’s face remains stoic. Such a severe look only reveals itself when he assumes his position as your misfit group’s leader. It would be extremely attractive if it didn’t scare you.

“How can you fight shadows?” Yoongi deadpans. He stares into your eyes long enough to make your face feel hot, but you don’t look away.

“I…”

Yoongi hums at your lack of an answer. Suddenly, you feel unbelievably small.

“It’s not impossible,” Jungkook whispers. His head hangs low, long bangs hiding his face. The rest of his hair is tied into a bun at the nape of his neck. “I’m just as beatable as you, hyung.”

Something about Yoongi’s expression softens at the honorific. Formalities died long ago, along with many other traditions that once made Korea what it was. So many things died during the war - tangible and cultural - lives and ways of being. Now, the Republic is something you know your friends no longer recognize. Although it is not your home country, your heart aches for what it once was - something you will never have the privilege to experience because you arrived during the Restoration of the Republic - a fallacy of an era since the country was never restored to how it was.

That may be best. It is easier to mourn the loss of something you never knew.

In moments like this, you feel terribly inadequate - when you speak with broken Korean or struggle to understand the foreign politics behind why Gifteds are hunted, no matter how many times Namjoon patiently attempts to teach you. All you know is that, at least here, to be Gifted is not a death sentence, per se. Other countries’ governments have been far less lenient with their mutant population.

You’re simply seen as a science experiment to be tested on, poked and prodded, pushed until you’re driven mad, and then warped into whatever shape the government has the need for.

“You have no match,” Yoongi smiles softly at Jungkook with a shake of his head. “I do.”

Holding out his hand, a small flame appears in the center of Yoongi’s palm. It floats just above the skin, though he isn’t burned. You’ve seen Yoongi summon fire a million times from the heat of the air around him, and he never ceases to amaze you.

With a nod in Namjoon’s direction, Yoongi waits for a small rope of dirty water to splash against his hand. Namjoon is much kinder in his attack against Yoongi, only summoning enough water to extinguish the flame.

“Water will always win against me,” Yoongi admits. This time, he holds your gaze when he speaks. “It is my match.”

You feel something stir in your belly that migrates up your chest until it eventually threatens to suffocate you, nearly getting lodged in your throat.

“You would do well to continue sparring with Namjoon,” he says after a moment before turning to Hoseok and Jungkook, who have otherwise been silent.

It’s an order, even if Yoongi is gentle with his words.

With a sigh, you turn back to Namjoon. It’s difficult to stamp down the heat Yoongi always manages to trigger inside of you. You would compare him to fire even if it didn’t already run in his veins.

Drawing from the murky stream, you weave a ball of water between your palms.

“Let’s go again.”

While you spar with Namjoon, Yoongi leads Hoseok and Jungkook to the other end of the field.

You and Namjoon spar as though you are dancing. It’s a push and pull, your rhythms falling into harmony, even when one of you performs a surprise attack or a new move that hasn’t been practiced before. Perhaps it is because you both fight with water. There is a fluidity to it that the others don’t possess.

Occasionally, your eyes stray to where Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook have begun to spar. The three men do not dance. Instead, they are a fury of elements intertwining in chaos. The wind snuffs fire, Yoongi and Hoseok blasting each other incessantly. Shadows allow Jungkook to disappear before being hit by an attack, only to reappear right behind his opponent to go in for the kill.

And it would be a kill if this was real. You know Jungkook keeps a rather terrifying knife strapped to his thigh. You all carry weapons, though you don’t really need them. Even Jungkook, with a Gift that’s misunderstood and exceptionally rare, is never found without his weapon.

Out of all the Gifteds you’ve met on your way to safety, you have never encountered another who can manipulate shadows. So, there is truth to Yoongi’s statement.

Jungkook is terrifying, even with the wide, starry eyes he always seems to stare at you with. He’s quiet and shy, typically sticking to Hoseok. You assume it’s likely because you found the two of them together. Both were kept in the same room at the research facility in Busan. As unassuming as Jungkook may be, you’ve seen him manipulate shadows to wrap around a Red Pin’s neck. Those shadows twisted and tightened until the man crumpled.

You didn’t need to have the Gift of blood manipulation to know when his heart stopped.

It was one of the scariest moments of your life, even beyond the suffering you’d endured having lived in the research facilities since you were a teen. Before then, you’d never seen someone die. Even when Yoongi and Namjoon helped you escape, they shielded you from the worst of it. It wasn’t until the three of you came upon the newest facility that such horrors were unleashed.

Jungkook hates himself for it. You know he does; you typically make your bed beside his, and he cries in his sleep. Self-defense protects the body in the moment, but harms the mind and heart long-term.

You probably would have done the same.

For as tragic as his story is - or what little you know of it - Jungkook has an undeniably beautiful soul. Those horrors have yet to turn him cruel or his heart black. Even when he spars, you can tell that he’s being gentle. He holds back and doesn’t reach his full potential out of fear of hurting others, you’re sure. You can see it in how he bounces on the balls of his feet to keep his movements light and how his back muscles ripple beneath his shirt as it clings to his skin. A bead of sweat runs along his neck, over the vein that bulges from his exerting effort.

Something prickles under your skin. When you look up, it’s into those wide eyes full of galaxies you’ll never understand, are somehow okay with not understanding if it means you can continue to gaze upon them.

A small smile pulls the corners of Jungkook’s mouth up. His expression is short-lived, though, quickly falling as a bright orange flame licks at his ankles.

“Don’t let my words get to your head, Jeon,” Yoongi teases. “Impossible to beat, but easy to hurt.”

This time, you catch Yoongi’s eye. You duck your head when he winks at you, just in time to block another blast of water from Namjoon.

“Why is everyone so off today?” Namjoon grumbles to himself. You haven’t managed to successfully hit him even once.

“I’m tired,” you whine again, dropping a ball of water to the ground. Dead grass quickly soaks it up once it splashes. “We should check on Jessi.”

Your group's sixth and final member is tucked away in the corner of the warehouse on the top floor. It’s dark up there, though Yoongi’s everlasting fire, paired with the windows Jessi managed to open, gives enough light for her to work.

She has black grease smudged on her left cheek and across her forehead. Her long, thick hair is tied back into a ponytail, though strands have fallen out to frame her face. When you step closer, you hear her muttering, but you can’t make out what she’s saying. It’s not for you. She speaks, facing the black box placed in front of where she kneels on the floor. The floor can’t feel good on her knees with its bits of broken concrete and dirt. Everything hurts in this life; it hardly matters as long as you’re here and not there.

“This piece of shit,” Jessi hisses, running her hands across her face. It smears more grease onto her skin, but she doesn’t care.

“Not working?”

“Beep beep boop beeping all over the fucking place, then static. White noise and shit. Like it’s telling me to fuck off even though I’m the one fixing it.”

You hum, crouching down to stare at the box. It’s an old radio meant to transport messages back and forth. Perhaps left behind by the military after it had occupied this land while it bulldozed the vigilantes seeking to save Gifteds from the fate you all ended up sharing anyway.

Jessi tweaks a few exposed wires. Every time they spark, you flinch. Mini white lightning, it’s deadly for anyone but Jessi. She grumbles and continues her work with deft fingers calloused from toiling away at the stupid thing for months.

“I’m normally so fucking good at this, I swear to God.”

Frustration colors her tone, even if her expression and cursing didn’t already give her feelings away.

You don’t doubt her, though, and you tell her as much. Still, you know firsthand that it sucks when your powers don’t work how you want them to. As a technopath, fixing the radio should be easy work for her.

“There must be something wrong with it… Maybe the Red Pins did something to it?”

You don’t know anything about technology. Even with the phone you’d stolen off one of the Red Pins, all you’d gotten to do was look at TikTok and try to find out where your parents were before Yoongi made you destroy the device. The government had ways to track you. Technology was as much your friend as a stranger on the street.

With a sigh, Jessi leans back until she’s sitting flat on the grimy floor.

“Maybe? Fuck if I know. I think I’m getting close, though. I’m getting some frequency when I concentrate really hard, but I wanna fix it so it’ll work even without me.”

Your friend whispers the end of her statement. It goes without saying; each one of you knows the fragility of life on the run.

“Thank you for working so hard.” Even in the dim lighting, you can see her watery eyes shine. It hurts your heart, but all you can offer is a light squeeze of her shoulder.

Jessi shrugs. “It’s as much for me as it is for you.”

You watch her stand and brush the dirt from her butt, her joints cracking from sitting down too long. When you first joined this mutant crew, you would have followed behind Jessi to comfort her. But, after months of running and fighting, you’ve learned that sometimes solitude is the best healing method.

4 MONTHS, 2 DAYS

“What makes you think you’re ready? That any of us are ready?”

Yoongi watches you with catlike eyes from where he sits at the kitchen table. The chairs circled around the battered wooden table are mismatched and in varying stages of deterioration from being abandoned for so long. The one Yoongi sits in is metal, and he leans on its two back legs, his right foot pressed to the floor to keep himself steady and his arms crossed against his chest.

Although Yoongi isn’t raising his voice - he never does - you still feel like you’re being scolded.

“I know we are,” you challenge him. Your voice is steady even as your fingers tremble. To stop them from shaking, you squeeze your hands into a fist, nails biting at the skin of your palms.

You should sit down, but holding your energy in is hard. Instead, you pace the kitchen while Yoongi’s cat eyes and Jessi’s wide ones follow you. You feel like a lion looping its cage, the desire to run restricted and confined.

“How?”

“We can’t stay here, Yoong! We can’t. I can’t.”

The front legs of Yoongi’s chair slam into the concrete floor. He allows the momentum to pull him forward, landing his elbows on the table’s surface.

Looking at Yoongi hurts. You can tell from his face that the next thing he says won’t be pleasant. His lips are pressed into a fine line that curves downward slightly. It’s cute how he can pull off a straight-lipped frown, but not when it’s directed at you.

It’s been at least an hour of back and forth between the three of you. Jessi tapped out a long time ago, resolved to watch the tennis match of an argument between you and Yoongi rather than exert energy on a fight she isn’t committed to. Yoongi and Jessi have the final say in all group decisions as the group's elders. It’s another reminder of how you think Yoongi sees you as someone to take care of rather than an equal.

“Have you ever killed someone before, Y/N?”

You pause your pacing to stand in front of the table. Yoongi is an exceptional cook, managing to create delicious meals out of what little you all have to work with from the forest. But now, at this moment, you feel like you’re going to be sick from the food churning in your stomach.

“No.”

“No,” Yoongi repeats. He speaks slowly, like he’s mulling your answer over, letting it twist around his tongue until he’s satisfied enough with its taste to swallow it down.

Leaning forward, Yoongi presses his palms against the table’s surface. He spreads his fingers and stares at them. The two of you seem to trace over the scars that line his skin, little nicks, and slices that healed light pink or blazing white. You’ve never seen Yoongi naked, but you have seen a good expanse of his body when you’ve used your Gift to help the others get clean. From what you’ve seen, you know Yoongi’s entire body is littered with battle scars.

“I have,” he admits what you already knew, and the gravelly sound of his voice makes you shudder. “Jungkook has.”

You wince at the mention of the younger man, but Yoongi doesn’t give you a chance to speak.

“Do you want to ask him what it’s like to squeeze the life out of another man? He may have done it with shadows, but I guarantee he still felt it in his hands.”

Yoongi lifts his eyes to yours when the first tear rolls down your cheek. Concern wrinkles his forehead.

“Yoongi,” you start, but the pink-haired man shakes his head.

“I don’t mean to upset you, kiddo.” The pet name twists your gut tighter with frustration - even though Yoongi’s voice is filled with gentle adoration when he calls out to you. “But I’ll be damned if I let us walk into that forest without knowing where we’re going or whose claws we’re running into. The Gifted Commune is, at best, a rumor. At worst - a trap.”

You want to tell him that falling for a rumor or getting caught by the government is better than sitting in a concrete cage. The prospect of finding a community of other Gifted runaways who have managed to create a society safe from the evils you’ve grown up with means more to you than the fear of the unknown.

There’s no use, though. Jessi is nodding along to Yoongi’s words; the blank expression she wears when she’s upset already masks her face.

“I will not put you in a situation where you must kill or be killed, Y/N. I won’t fucking do it.” Yoongi clears his throat suddenly, and he looks away from you. You’re unsure, but think he might be blinking back unshed tears.

You’re still pissed, but now your anger is mixed quite prettily with debilitating guilt. You’ve never seen Yoongi cry, and you realize with a sinking feeling that you really don’t want to.

“It’s too fucking risky,” Jessi finally speaks. She presses her fingers against her forehead, massaging it slowly as she, too, looks for words. “The radio is almost fixed; I can feel that it’s close. Then we will have a clearer line of communication with the Commune. It doesn’t guarantee anything, obviously, but it’s better than going in without fucking knowing anything.”

There’s nothing else to say. Yoongi doesn’t look at you or Jessi, instead staring at something in the opposite corner of the room.

Jessi gives you what you think is a smile laced with pity - or at least an apology.

How can everyone be so content to stay in the warehouse? You’re a bunch of sitting ducks, hiding out in the same location for months, practically waiting for the government to send their agents to either corral you into laboratories again or exterminate you. You don’t understand how becoming a moving target is a bad thing.

But, ultimately, you don’t understand why Yoongi can’t just trust you.

With a frustrated huff, you twist around to hurry out of the kitchen. As you cross the threshold, Namjoon appears in the doorway.

“Oh, I need to ask you-”

You don’t mean to shove Namjoon with your shoulder as hard as you do, but you don’t have the patience to comply with whatever he expects you to do for him. Probably more sparring and training.

On the one hand, sharing your identity as a water elemental with someone else in the group is an affirming experience. On the other, it’s infuriating because Namjoon sees your potential and pushes you toward it - even when you fight against him.

Namjoon sputters something, and you hear Jessi convince him to drop it. Whatever else they have to say is lost on you; you’re no longer interested in entertaining the conversations of the “leaders” of the group. Part of you wants to find Hoseok or Jungkook to force them to commiserate with you, but something about dumping your sludge of emotions onto them feels wrong.

So you do what you’ve always done best: you repress.

It isn’t until a few hours later when you’re lounging on your makeshift bed with the only tattered book you kept from your facility (Fahrenheit 451, how fitting), that you give yourself over to the gnawing need to interact with other humans.

Jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet, items that you can’t make out pressed against his chest.

“Will you cut my hair for me, noona?”

The out-of-use honorific flusters you, making your face burn under Jungkook’s attentive gaze.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me,” you insist, embarrassment ravaging your twisted stomach and fluttering chest. Something about the attention Jungkook gives you makes you feel nervous and giddy.

“It’s not very formal, really. It’s… respectful? I just… You are, it means,” Jungkook lets out a huff. He blows his bangs out of his face as his cheeks turn pink. “You are special to me.”

You duck your head, shocked by Jungkook’s honesty. It warms you in a way you’re not sure you understand, letting the feeling sit inside your chest rather than exploring it any further.

“Where I come from, we don’t have words like that.”

Jungkook gives you a shrug. Neither of you mentions that in Korea, those words don’t really exist anymore, either.

“But, okay,” you relent softly.

Jungkook stands beside the mess of blankets that make up your bed, holding a pair of scissors and electric clippers Jessi enhanced to operate on their own. Jungkook nicked them from a Red Pin on their way out of the research facility he’d grown up in. Hairstyling tools didn’t seem high on your list of items to steal, but they’d come in handy. Like now, with Jungkook’s bangs falling entirely into his eyes and his hair sweeping across his shoulders.

The pout Jungkook wears lessens slightly. He holds out the tools with an expectant look on his face. It’s cute how his bottom lip juts out, pink and chapped from nervously chewing on it. You’d overheard Namjoon scolding him for something earlier that morning before you went outside to patrol the grounds with Hoseok and Jessi.

Taking the items from Jungkook, you lead him out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. The lights sputter briefly before they fully brighten the small room. Jessi was excited to learn that her Gift extended to electricity as a whole, not just that within technology like computers and radios. With all your Gifts combined, the warehouse is liveable, almost comfortable.

Jungkook sits on the closed lid of the toilet, making you tower over him. He parts his legs slightly so you can stand between them as you run your fingers through his hair.

You spread your fingers and sweep his bangs up, exposing his forehead. It opens up his face more and makes him look older. Jungkook is handsome; there’s no denying that. You’re sure in another life, he could have been a regular college kid with a sweet girlfriend and a bright future.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook hums with his eyes closed, and his head tilted back slightly.

You don’t miss how he leans into your touch, completely pliable in your hands, as you massage his scalp and continue to play with his hair. It’s thick and soft, even without the proper haircare products to maintain the health of the follicles.

“How do you want me to cut it, silly?”

You reach for the hairbrush you keep tucked away in the bathroom cabinet. It takes a few more moments of silence while you brush out Jungkook’s waves before he finally speaks.

“Short. Cut it all off, please? It’s too hard to take care of now, and it gets in my face.”

“Don’t get mad at me if it comes out bad.”

Jungkook lets out a frustrated sound. “You always do a great job. You gave Yoongi hyung an undercut. It looks so good!”

At the mention of Yoongi, you feel your heart drop. Somehow you know Jungkook is here to make you feel better even if he hasn’t said anything about the argument, and he’s the one seeking your help, not the other way around. He’s a distraction - one you wonder if Yoongi sent himself.

It isn’t that Yoongi won’t apologize; you just never give him a chance to before you run off to lick your wounds on your own.

It’s the healing quality of solitude, you think as you prepare to cut Jungkook’s hair. However, this time, you’re not alone.

You can’t help but smile when Jungkook starts singing a song of his own creation as chunks of his hair fall to the floor. His song drowns out the static that buzzes in your brain like the fuzziness Jessi’s broken radio emits when anyone but her fiddles with it.

“This way,” you speak softly, not wanting to disrupt his singing as you press your fingertips against his jaw and under his chin to lift his face toward you. Your finger presses against the little mole just below Jungkook’s bottom lip. The angle gives you a better view of your work so far.

A small smile flickers on Jungkook’s face as though he’s trying to keep it down, but the corners of his mouth won’t listen to him.

“It feels nice. We don’t touch.”

You hum and nod your head, but Jungkook’s eyes are still closed. It’s true; kind touches are rare. Hoseok is really the only one who gives out hugs. Everything is tough all the time. There’s little room for gentleness, even amongst friends.

So you understand when Jungkook’s smile wins out, and he finally surrenders to the happiness your light touches along his jaw bring him.

4 MONTHS, 5 DAYS

It takes Yoongi three days to apologize.

Perhaps you should have apologized first, but you struggle to see how you could have done anything that warrants an apology. Yes, you feel bad for upsetting Yoongi, but his attitude toward you lately has rubbed you the wrong way.

During the three days it takes him to apologize to you, he seems to do his best to avoid you.

On the days you’re assigned to go on patrol with Yoongi, Jungkook accompanies you instead. You don’t mind having Jungkook by your side, you discover, even though you’re upset that Yoongi is behaving so childishly.

Neither Jungkook nor Yoongi talks much, but you learn that their silence feels different. Whereas Yoongi’s silence stems from feeling confident and content with not needing to fill the air with incessant babbling, Jungkook’s silence is awkward and heavy. He fiddles with the loose strings of his shirt, his reddened cuticles, and everything else. You don’t mind the awkwardness, though. It’s nice to comb through the woods with someone as powerful as Jungkook; you know there’s nothing to fear with him around.

The only weapon Jungkook carries is the knife strapped to his thigh. You, on the other hand, stay heavily armed. Your fingers tighten around your bow. When you twist your torso, the harness that holds your arrows digs into your shoulder. You also have a knife, though you are honestly afraid of close combat. A gun would be even better, but ammo is difficult to come by. It’s easier to collect your arrows after you’ve shot them, although you haven’t needed to yet. Since finding refuge at the warehouse, no one has discovered your group.

Apparently, all your friends are willing to keep testing fate. You aren’t interested in pushing your luck. Jungkook doesn’t comment on the group’s plans for moving forward - or lack thereof. Something tells you that he’ll do whatever Yoongi and Jessi tell him to do.

Still, going on patrol with Jungkook does a decent job of preventing your thoughts from straying toward your argument with Yoongi. Your hands brushed together a few times as you walked side by side, and you could practically feel Jungkook’s brain shortcircuit from the contact.

Part of you thinks he has a crush on you, but the more logical part of you knows he’s probably shy. The kid has gone through a lot in life. Not everything is always about you; you try to remind yourself. Yoongi doesn’t even want you. Why would Jungkook?

On the third day, bright doe eyes don’t greet you at the edge of the woods, just as the sun is kissing the sky for the first time. Instead, sharp cat eyes hold your gaze when you lightly jog over.

“Good morning, kiddo.”

Yoongi wears dark shorts with tattered edges cut from a pair of old jeans and a plain t-shirt the color of the forest in spring. It’s not warm enough to wear what he’s wearing, but fire elementals run hot like you run cold.

“Hi,” you say, voice a bit stunted as you hold your jacket tighter to your body.

You’ve foregone your bow and arrows today; you may or may not have snapped your bow in a fit of frustration that may or may not have anything to do with Yoongi ignoring you at dinner the night before. A knife and your Gift will have to do, but you feel it is enough. Namjoon insists on learning how to use your Gifts and weapons in tandem. For double the defense, or so he says.

Carrying a knife seems ridiculous when you know how to choke someone with their own spit without touching them.

Once you’re within arm’s reach, Yoongi offers his hand to you. He holds it as though he’s going in for a handshake. Yellow-orange fire licks at his palm and swirls in tendrils around his fingers and wrist.

After a few seconds of silence, he makes a slight grunting sound and wiggles his fingers, beckoning you.

It’s impossible not to cave. A prickly feeling tingles down your arm, beginning somewhere in your chest and eventually settling in your fingertips. A tiny hurricane of water stolen from the moisture in the air circles around your hand just as the fire does Yoongi’s.

He lets out a pleased sound when your palms glide across each other. You hook your thumbs together, using the momentum to spin your hands around until your fingers are interlaced and pressed into your palms. You both squeeze your hands once, twice, three times in a heartbeat before pulling away. By the end, the fire and water have disappeared.

When you meet Yoongi’s eyes, the warmth of the fire in his palm has transferred to his gaze. There is an apology in how you release each other’s hands. The handshake holds secret words of friendship and reassurance between you.

The two of you stand in silence for a bit until Yoongi tilts his head in the direction of the woods. You nod in response and follow Yoongi along one of the many patrol paths your group has established.

There’s never anything in the woods besides small animals like squirrels and rabbits, but everyone feels better knowing there is a consistent patrol of the area, just in case.

“So,” When you look at Yoongi, his lips twist into a light smirk you absolutely do not like. “You and Jungkook.”

“Me and Jungkook what?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Just seems like you two been hanging out a lot.”

“Yeah, because you were fucking ignoring me all week.”

His smirk drops into a stern frown, but Yoongi continues following the path. He walks slightly ahead of you with his hands clasped behind his back. It feels like he’s taking a leisurely stroll through a garden rather than going on patrol in the woods for government assassins.

“It was immature and irresponsible of me, and I’m sorry for that.”

Forgiving Yoongi is too easy. It’s the way the morning sun shines through the canopy of trees above you, casting streaks of light against his fading pink hair. The way he carries himself with confidence is gentle and comforting rather than arrogant or misplaced. It’s how he looks at you; you know he would do anything for you.

“It’s okay,” you finally concede. You scramble a bit to fall in line with Yoongi again. “I was being dramatic.”

“Life is one big drama, isn’t it?” Yoongi muses with a chuckle. It’s a question he doesn’t expect an answer to, which is good, considering you’ve got something else buzzing around in your head.

Well, fuck it. You’re just gonna say it.

Heart pounding, you eventually find it in you to say, “I still think you’re wrong.”

After a moment, Yoongi hums in acknowledgment of your admission but doesn’t offer anything else. It’s better than nothing, so you tell yourself to be content with all that he offers.

“Anyway…” You don’t want to drop the subject, but Yoongi’s question is nagging in the back of your brain now - a nagging question you now have a gnawing desire to know the meaning behind. “Me and Jungkook can hang out without it meaning-”

Before you can finish your statement, Yoongi slaps his hand against your mouth. The calluses on his palms are rough against your chapped lips, and his skin is sweaty. His free arm comes around to the front of your chest near your collarbones. He draws you against his chest so tightly you can’t move.

“Don’t talk.” His breath is hot against your face, and his voice is almost indiscernible.

You give a tiny nod before locking your body completely still. You hold your breath, straining to hear what Yoongi might hear or see what he might see. There’s nothing, just the usual sound of life in the woods - birds chirping, small animals scurrying in the brush. You don’t see anything either.

You can only focus on the frantic pounding of your heart and the calm beat of Yoongi’s against your back. How he can be so relaxed when he thinks there might be danger in the woods that you can’t even see is unreal.

Slowly, Yoongi takes a step back away from you. He holds a finger to his lips and silently mouths for you to stay where you are. Everything inside you screams to disobey as you watch Yoongi disappear further into the woods, the thick trees swallowing him whole.

But you don’t. You stay put, fear rooting you to the ground even though your body desperately wants to follow.

What lies beyond the thicket of trees? What is dangerous enough that Yoongi wants you to stay put but not so dangerous that he believes he can take it on alone?

Just when your resolve is about to crumble, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. Barely breathing, you turn your head to watch a dark spot glide across the forest floor. It’s two-dimensional, not an object but a presence creeping along the ground.

Suddenly, the spot grows. It spreads, turning its shape from a flat, uneven circle to a thing with tendrils sticking out of it, each new tendril moving independently. You gasp when one of the tendrils creeps up your leg. Despite being two-dimensional, you can feel the darkness. It’s firm and cold, like a snake slithering up your body.

Every inch of you trembles as the strange darkness slowly spreads across your body. You squeeze your eyes and hold your breath. Perhaps this is the thing that Yoongi saw, a phantom stalking the trees. But now you’re left behind to be absorbed into its darkness, eaten alive.

You’re startled when the cold disappears; instead, strong arms pull you against a firm chest. Warmth envelopes you, and when you open your eyes, you see familiar ones looking back at you.

“I got you,” Jungkook murmurs. He has you tucked under his chin, and he tilts his head down when he speaks to you. You shiver as his lips lightly brush against your forehead.

“Where did you-”

“Shhh.”

Jungkook’s heart isn’t steady like Yoongi’s had been. On the contrary, it’s beating rather furiously. You can hear him attempting to regulate his emotions, taking in mindful breaths and exhaling in a way that tickles your skin.

You don’t know how long you stand there pulled against Jungkook’s chest. After a while, your breathing matches his until you fall into a gentle rhythm that makes you sleepy. The adrenaline is making you crash, your body hardly strong enough to hold yourself up after panicking so severely - still panicking. Luckily, when you lean into Jungkook, his hold on you tightens.

In another situation, pressing your fronts together would have flooded your body with heat. You can feel all of Jungkook like this, from the bulging muscles of his chest to his thigh pressed slightly between your legs from how he holds you up. But fear of the unknown and Jungkook’s clearly distressed state prevent those other thoughts from materializing.

Jungkook’s body doesn’t relax until Yoongi appears around the corner of a large tree. He keeps his arms wrapped around you, and for a second, Yoongi looks around at the clearing you're in as though he can’t see you.

It isn’t until Jungkook lets go of you that recognition flashes in Yoongi’s eyes.

“There you are,” Yoongi murmurs to the two of you. He looks like he rolled around on the ground, little pieces of leaves and sticks caught in his hair and stuck to his clothes. His left knee is bleeding from a few superficial scrapes.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Yoongi looks at Jungkook before he answers your question, which irritates you. “I tripped when I rushed in, but it was nothing. Just a large fox I heard making noise back there.”

A fox is likely the largest animal in the woods, with no bears or wolves in the area. Still, you don’t trust Yoongi. You can pick up on the charred smell coming off of him. He smells like a barbecue, which means only one thing…

“Have you been practicing turning yourself invisible?”

Jungkook ducks his head down but no longer has long bangs to hide his face. It takes a second for your brain to process Yoongi’s question - and the change in the topic - but Jungkook is already answering him by the time you figure it out.

“It’s not really invisibility,” he says softly. “It’s more like… an illusion.”

Yoongi hums and motions for the two of you to start walking. You’re returning to the warehouse, you realize, even though you only just started the patrol route.

“Yeah, I can… adjust the lighting, I guess? To make it seem like you can’t see me. Or, us, this time.”

Jungkook gives you a small smile when you whip around to look at him.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook repeats. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and wiggles it like he has more to say but doesn’t want to let it out just yet.

The three of you walk in silence until you reach the warehouse. When Yoongi walks ahead of you, you can tell he’s limping, even as he does his best to walk normally.

“He’s okay.”

Jungkook stands beside you in the field behind the warehouse, watching Yoongi reach the backdoor.

“He’s bleeding.”

Jungkook’s ears are pink when he responds, “He’ll be okay.”

“He’s lying to us.”

Jungkook absentmindedly runs his fingers along his bottom lip. It droops as he speaks through a pout. “Maybe. But I trust him, even if he is.”

It’s a strange thing to trust someone who is lying.

All you can do is nod. All you can do is accept that the people around you are doing what’s right because, aside from them, there is no one and nothing you can trust in the world.

As you approach the warehouse, Jungkook curls his fingers around your wrist to stop you. He watches you with the same wide-eyed look he gives everyone, though something about this time feels different. His expression is more open and vulnerable. He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to hurt him.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he apologizes softly.

“But you didn’t?”

Your eyebrows crease your forehead, trying to recall what you may have done to make Jungkook feel like you feared him. Sure, his sudden appearance in the woods was startling, but he’d brought you a feeling of comfort and safety - not fear.

Jungkook doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets go of your wrist as shame warms his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away from you. The timidness is still there. You can see it in how he chews on his bottom lip. Still, his eyes take on a more guarded, hardened expression for a split second, and then…

He’s gone.

“What the fuck?” You mutter to yourself.

Now that you’ve seen the darkness before, your eyes quickly notice the spot on the ground that creeps and grows into odd shapes, slinking along the grass before taking form up your legs, curling around your arms.

It’s Jungkook. You knew it in the woods, somewhere deep down. Your fear for Yoongi’s safety - and your own - prevented you from processing the situation. But now, as the darkness envelopes you again, you know what to expect when you close your eyes and open them to see Jungkook’s broad chest as he crushes you against him.

“You never showed me before.”

Maybe it’s weird that you’re still clinging to each other, but Jungkook is warm and solid, and his heartbeat guides yours into a slower rhythm.

“That’s because it’s creepy.”

“Well, I think it’s cool. Even though, yeah, you kinda scared the shit outta me.”

Jungkook lets out an embarrassed whine and squeezes you tighter. You knew he could command shadows but hadn’t realized he could become one or move within them. Sure, the tornado trick he’d done a few times with Hoseok had been cool, but you’d always thought he was merely swirling the darkness around himself. You hadn’t realized he was the darkness.

Honestly, it made him all the more terrifying and equally as endearing.

“I just had this… feeling something bad was happening…” Jungkook whispers into your hair. “I needed to check.”

“Good thing it was only a fox.”

Jungkook nods in agreement; you know he believes it more than you do.

“I’m just happy you’re safe.” You can feel his cheek press against the top of your head for a moment before he finally releases you.

There’s a feeling there as Jungkook leads you to the warehouse. He laces his fingers with yours, and you can’t help but hear Yoongi’s question on a loop in your head.

You and Jungkook?

4 MONTHS, 3 WEEKS

“What if they think we’re the feds and feed us false information?”

“We’re too stupid to be the feds. It would be obvious.”

“I don’t know… we all escaped the government, so they must be pretty stupid.”

“What if they’re the feds?”

“Shit, I never thought about that.”

“They’re not the fucking feds.”

“How do you know that?!”

“Can all of you please just shut the fuck up?”

The six of you crowd around the radio on the kitchen table. Jessi shows you how to operate it, which flip to switch to activate the microphone, and how to adjust the volume. You’re all muted for now. When Hoseok goes to flip the switch, Jessi smacks his hand out of the way.

“Listen to me,” she says sternly, turning in her seat to get a good look at all of you. “No one talks.”

“But-”

“No one talks.”

Five heads nod at her command, including Yoongi, which feels very satisfying to you for some reason.

Details of the Gifted Commune somewhere beyond the woods traveled by word of mouth. Coordinates and radio frequencies were exchanged in hushed tones between the Gifteds who dared dream of a life beyond the Labs. You’re sad to admit that you were never one of those Gifteds. It wasn’t until Yoongi helped you escape that you even realized escaping was an option, so brainwashed into thinking the Labs were all you had. You were in a new country, stumbling through an unfamiliar language, taken from your family. Sure, you’d learned enough to get by over time - but missing your adolescent years made you feel hopeless.

Jessi is the only one who had communicated with the Commune leaders in the past when she and another Gifted managed to break into a control room in the Labs she came from.

That’s why she’s the one to speak into the radio that you find operates much like a long-distance walkie-talkie. You’re glad it’s not you. She introduces herself, her whereabouts, and her credentials with an even voice you know you could never replicate.

Despite the distrust you’re all afraid of, Jessi’s previous connection to the Commune makes it easy for her to request to speak to the Commune leader, a healer named Kim Taehyung.

Sitting with your fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly your knuckles are beginning to ache, you lean forward as though you can get closer to the gentle voice that floats from the radio’s speakers.

Taehyung doesn’t sound anything like you’d imagined, though you aren’t sure what you were expecting, to be honest. Maybe someone with a rougher voice made harsh by the trials of life as a fugitive of the Republic. Instead, he’s soft as he asks Jessi how many there are of you and what your coordinates are. This man, already larger than life even though none of you knows what he looks like, is patient as he gives Jessi instructions on how to reach the Commune.

“I can assure you,” Taehyung speaks, and you don’t know what he’s about to say, but you find yourself already believing him, “You will be safe here. It won’t be a short trip.” That makes your gut twist, but you focus on his following words. “But there are abandoned shelters along the route to find refuge in. The nights get terribly cold.”

Namjoon scribbles some notes down on a worn piece of paper. It’s been written on and erased to add more notes over the months you’ve been at the warehouse since there are only a few pieces of paper between the six of you. There’s a small hole in the middle of the page where someone erased too hard - or too many times, you suppose.

“Thank you, Taehyung-ssi.”

The line is quiet for a moment. Jessi’s gaze shoots up to glare at Jungkook’s interruption, but Taehyung speaks before she can chastise the younger man.

“Anything for my dongsaeng,” the man on the other side of the radio states.

You don’t know him, so there is no way to tell if the subtle lilt to his voice indicates affection, but it seems like it as the two men use polite terms no one ever uses anymore. It’s old-fashioned and reminiscent of a time lost to all of you.

Jessi steers the conversation back to planning the group’s journey to the Commune. Excitement makes you jittery as you skip out of the kitchen, the men - aside from Yoongi - following after you. The boring stuff is what follows, and you’re all content to let the leaders discuss that stuff.

“Do you think we’ll be able to do it?” Hoseok clasps his hands together, occasionally squeezing them. When he speaks, he keeps his eyes on the closed kitchen door.

Namjoon shrugs at the same time you respond, “We have to.”

PART ONE - PART TWO

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #a spring offering collab #wtfgu

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fiveredlights · 29 days

Note

Okay I need to know things from literally ALL of the wip’s 😂

But I guess the ones that intrigue me the most are the post AUS2024 fic, the alternate Vegas 2023 story and the lmao daniel retirement fic!!

But like I said, I want to know all things lol! You are like one of my favourite authors ❤️

P.S. please feel no pressure to update, write or anything. Take your time

beth you ask and i will dutifully answer, gonna put everything under the cut because this is a long post 🫡

snippets: ausgp 2024/you're on another path

so fun fact about this one i wrote it post quali, and i had planned to post it after the race was done so i a "pre-wrote" two endings. i wasn't going to because i was gonna be like "oh max will win but something bad might happen to daniel" so i had this ready to go:

and i was sitting in the grandstand watching max's car explode in the pitlane and all i could think about was "did i do this. again" and honestly who knows.

Daniel’s already lying down face first on the bed when Max makes it back to their hotel room. He’s been doing it a lot recently after races, opening the door to their hotel room and just starfishing on the bed, unmoving until Max gently coaxes him to actually sleep.

God, if his twenty-something year old self could see him now.

Yeah, you’re back at the team you started with—no not HRT, that’s gone now, yes the Red Bull—not junior—sister team. The Red Bull seat? Yeah, not yours anymore, and it’s looking like it’s gonna stay that way. No, no podium at your home race, more like qualifying P18 because you were an idiot and drove over track limits. Points? Well, you had a good chance but I guess luck just wasn’t on your side yet again.

Oh, and that young and upcoming driver from the Netherlands? Yeah, he’s your boyfriend now—surprise, you’re gay! And he’s a three time world champion, but that’s probably not important.

Any one of those things would’ve sent Daniel into hospital, but all of those things combined?

Early death.

snippets: las vegas 2025/bonus fic reimagined

(i'm going to assume you mean las vegas 2025 and i'll give you both)

Max isn’t winning right now.

He couldn’t really tell you why.

Plenty of pundits, fans, strangers on the street have stopped him and asked him to dissect why he hasn’t won a championship in the past two years. He gives them a hastily PR trained and approved answer that seems to be more conscious in his mind now than before and cracks a well timed joke he’s sure his teammate would be proud of.

Then Daniel comes along and will say, “Max already has three, he’s got to leave some for the rest of us!”, and the conversation will usually move on quickly after that.

He knows that Daniel isn’t the sole reason for his non-winning ways right now, but when the eventual news of their relationship happens to drop, there’ll be dissections for days on if Daniel plays a part in Max’s performance right now.

The last time Max hadn’t won a championship was when Daniel Ricciardo was with Red Bull, surely there’s some connection there?

snippets: las vegas 2025/don't read the last page

(Max is italics, Daniel is not.)

Max 🩵

July 31, 2025

...

I may have accidentally

I swear it was an accident

Like I pinky promise swear to our first born child

Don’t bring Matilda into this

Did you murder someone

What

Why is that your first thing

You are making a big deal out of it

Like bigger than the podcast you did in January

So I have to assume you murdered someone

Okay well it’s not murder but nice to know you think I’m capable of it

Daniel

I forgot to take off my wedding ring and wore it in the paddock and people saw and I got asked about in the press conference

They definitely thought I was just engaged so I guess that’s just a silver lining

And you have a bet with Lando over when I was going to accidentally do this

Which is rude because I would never do the same to you Maxy

You literally have a bet with Fernando over if I’m going to slip up and say husband in an interview

How do you know that

And he’s Fernando you know you can’t say no to him

Daniel

When you came out you literally posted a photo of me on your Instagram

The whole paddock knows we are married

Half of them went to our wedding

About 85% of fans think we are in a relationship because you keep on teasing them with photos that is definitely me

Is it so bad that we just say yeah we’re married

We are literally about to have a kid

Okay well when you put it like that

I guess you’re right

I know

I’m always right

snippets: lmao daniel retirement

They asked him if he wanted a big farewell thing, like they had done with Sebastian and Kimi a couple years back.

He’d almost said no until Lando pulled a face and said “Mate, people’s last memory of you driving can’t be you heading to the pitlane again.”

So he agreed. Told Blake to tell them to keep it minimal. No standing on giant mockups of his face during the national anthem or whatever.

#wip game #maxiel #five writes #queued #daniel retirement au #don't read the last page #you're on another path

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604to647 · 7 months

Text

The Wedding (Drabble)

Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

A/N: What if I never finish the “main” fic and just write one-shots and drabbles in this AU (Series Masterlist)? What then? 🤷🏻‍♀️😂 Anyways, in the AU, Din used to be an enforcer for the Fett Family (now he owns and runs a boxing gym where the mob guys hang/work out 🥊) Let’s go to a Mob wedding! 🙌🏻

Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please), no smut (but promises of?), established relationship, no implied age gap, dirty talk and pet names (baby, pretty girl, pretty bird, reader calls Din "Daddy" once).

Word count: 860

It wasn’t every day that the niece of one Don married the son of another.

Security teams from both families had been working tirelessly, and almost miraculously, together for the past few months to make sure the wedding went off without a hitch. Even top dogs like Din who were technically out of the game had been called in to consult and strategize, all so that both sides of the aisle could celebrate without the threat of any bad blood spilling. To everyone’s happy surprise, the celebratory spirit had been infectious and all evening long, new and old bonds of camaraderie were made and cemented with good food and even better music.

With the happy couple having had their honeymoon send off and the evening almost over for most, it would be particularly brazen for someone to try something now.

And yet, there’s a disturbance that’s only getting louder emanating from the reception hall that the venue staff is trying to take down. It’s probably nothing that can’t be handled quickly, but Din doesn’t want you to be near if things turned ugly.

“Pretty bird, I need you to let Jimmy take you home while I go take care of this. Can you do that for me?”

You’re already wrapped in Din’s arms; it was a lovely wedding, but you’ve missed him. Although he was a guest, he had also been working during the event and tended to his security responsibilities throughout the evening. You wouldn’t have much minded the lack of dancing or him disappearing at random points during the reception if he didn’t look so fucking hot tonight. With his arms still tight around your waist, you lean away to run your hands over the dark suit jacket that hugs his broad shoulders so snugly, feeling his muscular arms underneath you let out a deep sigh. From the moment you had spotted him when you walked into the venue foyer earlier, he had taken your breath away. You were stopped mid-stride by the sight of him filling out his perfectly tailored black suit, going over security plans with the Don’s men; when you saw him point to the floor plans, the silver rings he wore on his thick fingers came into view and you had immediately felt heat pooling between your legs. You remember that he had looked up at that exact moment and caught you practically drooling; you're sure he’s been purposefully teasing you all evening ever since.

It started during the ceremony and later the reception, Din had systematically inched his hand higher and higher up the thigh slit of your dress every time he was seated next to you. While mingling during the stand-up cocktail hour, his hand had felt hot on the small of your back, occasionally dipping lower to palm your ass when he thought no one was looking. That was to say nothing of all the low whispers in your ear throughout the night, ranging from sweet compliments to dirty ramblings that made you blush. Dipping his lips just below your earlobe, Din’s trimmed facial hair would graze your jaw so lightly it made your skin prickle.

“Look so gorgeous tonight, pretty girl. What a lucky guy I am, having you on my arm.”

“You shouldn’t be allowed to look so sexy in that dress, baby. Gonna have to punish you for it later tonight.”

“You’re driving me so fucking crazy, pretty bird. My cock has been leaking for you all night.”

And of course, you had teased him right back. Dragging your nails with feather light touches up and down the back of his neck and toying with the curls at the base of his neck whenever he sat down next to you. Slipping your hands under the front of his suit jacket and raking your fingers possessively over his stomach, then discretely tucking your fingers into the waistband of his dress pants while making polite small talk with other guests during cocktail hour. You would rest your head in the crook of his neck and coo back all sorts of compliments and longings of your own.

“Din, this suit makes you look like a brickhouse, fits you so perfectly.”

“Can’t wait to feel your weight on me, baby. My panties are soaked just thinking about being underneath you.”

“I want to suck those rings right off your fingers, daddy.”

That last one had Din threatening to bend you over the dinner table and take you in front of all the other guests right then and there.

Din looks as pained as you feel about the prospect of delaying going home and fulfilling all the dirty promises you had exchanged over the course of the evening. Running your fingers through his combed-back hair before cupping his face, you plant a chaste kiss on his lips and nod in assent to his request. “Please be safe, baby. Come home soon? I’ll be waiting for you, Din.” You look up at him, doe eyed and desperate.

Din pulls you in for a greedy goodbye kiss, and whispers low so only you can hear, “Keep that pretty dress on, sweetheart. I want to be the one to take it off of you tonight.”

Part 2

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #modern au #no y/n #din djarin x f!reader

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thisapplepielife · 9 months

Text

5 Words Fic Challenge

Thanks for the tag, @hbyrde36!

The rules as follows:

1- generate 5 random words using this generator and then write something using those words! 2- tag 5 (or however many you want) mutuals to challenge!

(If you don’t like the five words you got, re-roll them. This is meant to be a fun little challenge, not something to stress over. Have fun!)

My words were:

Catechetical, incoordination, guitarfish, spilt, & acoustic.

Catechetical was the thorn in my side. Even spellcheck hates it, lol. Is that the first word I'd use? Or that thousandth? No. Does it make absolute sense? Questionable. Go with it. 😂

____

FIC: Steddie, fluff, flirting & innuendo, 2,108 words.

“Okay, Harrington, listen up. We’re gonna do this all catechetical-like,” Eddie bosses, putting Dragon Slayer, his acoustic guitar, in Steve’s hands.

“I don’t even know what that means,” Steve says, sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out. Eddie notices that he's holding onto the guitar awkwardly, the picture of utter incoordination.

Eddie knows Steve Harrington isn’t uncoordinated. Not in the slightest, he’s just nervous.

“Questions and answers, keep up,” Eddie says, “now you ask, and I answer. Me teacher, you student.”

“Do you have a ruler to swat my hand with?” Steve asks playfully, reaching up for the beer in Eddie’s hand. Eddie hands it over, and Steve takes a swig before handing it back.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Eddie taunts, and then adds, “I'm not sure if I can rustle up a ruler. But I do have a set of handcuffs handy,” he says, nodding his head towards the pair hanging on the wall. “So be a good little student, or else."

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Okay…” Steve trails off, seemingly unsure about this, “first question though, how will I know what questions to ask?”

“Good point,” Eddie says, “well, first things first, if you’re gonna be a guitar god, you’re gonna need a cool name. Like Corroded Coffin. Or Eddie the Banished.”

“That’s really the first thing? You sure about that? Wouldn’t actually knowing how to play the guitar be a more important first step?” Steve asks, looking up at him, suspicious.

“No way, never underestimate what a good stage name can do for you,” Eddie assures, waving his hands around dramatically.

“Fine. I don’t care, you can name me,” Steve says, looking down at Dragon Slayer laying across his chest. Eddie thinks it looks good there. Really good.

“Guitarfish!” Eddie shouts loudly, slightly unhinged, but sure of his choice. Sometimes you have to go with your gut, and his gut is saying Guitarfish.

Steve rolls his eyes, “Why Guitarfish?”

“Because you used to, you know, swim. Like a fish.”

“That doesn't even make sense. I’m not being called Guitarfish. It sounds stupid, dickhead.”

“Sorry, you shoulda named yourself then. Send all complaints to the complaint department. I hear the guy running it is pretty cool though, he might listen to reason.”

“He’s you, isn’t he?” Steve banters dryly, looking down at the strings and giving them a little pluck. It doesn’t sound great, but Eddie’s definitely heard worse. He tried to teach Gareth to play the guitar once, and never again. No fucking way. This can’t go that bad. Nothing can go that bad.

Of course, Eddie wasn’t interested in being this close to Gareth, either. He’s definitely got ulterior motives today. And he’s about to make good use of those motives, right now.

Eddie gets down on the floor behind Steve, and scoots forward until he has bracketed Steve’s body with his own. Is it a requirement to teach him to play the guitar? Probably not, but he’s doing it anyway.

Eddie puts his beer down, steadying it, and then he hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder, “Okay, we’re starting with an E minor chord. All the action is here on the second fret,” Eddie says, moving Steve’s fingers to the second fret, counting down from the top, “one, two. Okay, put your index finger on the fifth string, and your middle finger on the fourth string.” Eddie says, counting up from the bottom string, the thinnest one, and up to the top, the thickest. Then he adjusts Steve’s fingers to be in the right place on the guitar, “The fourth, the fifth.”

“The minor fall, the major lift,” Steve says absentmindedly, and now Eddie is the baffled king.

“You know Leonard Cohen?” Eddie asks, shocked at this development.

“Robin,” Steve says, by way of explanation.

“Robin. Robin, she of Madonna, Blondie, Bowie, and Beatles fame? That Robin?”

“That’s the one,” Steve laughs, “she is a complex woman, who won’t be judged for her varied and vast array of interests by a dingus like me.”

“And you’re a parrot,” Eddie teases, and Steve laughs, “because that sounded just like Robin was in the room with me.”

Steve grins.

“Okay, middle finger there,” Eddie says, getting back to the teaching.

“I know where I’d like to put my middle finger,” Steve grumbles, and Eddie grins behind his back, but otherwise ignores him.

It looks uncomfortable, with Steve’s large hands, so Eddie makes a slight adjustment, “Try this instead,” Eddie says, and he has him use his middle and ring fingers instead. He definitely has long enough fingers to make that work, Eddie knows from experience. But that’s neither here nor there, right this second.

Later, maybe.

“Does that feel more natural?” Eddie asks, looking at his finger placement.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one asking the questions?” Steve teases, and Eddie smiles.

“Smartass.”

“It does,” Steve finally answers, and Eddie nods.

“Okay then,” Eddie says, “now strum,” and he gets ahold of Steve’s right hand, and gets him to strum with the pick, and then lets go so Steve can do it on his own.

“This might be easier if you’d just tell me what I’m trying to play,” Steve grouches.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Eddie says, and he’s gonna keep torturing him a little longer. It’s too much fun. Annoying Steve is his favorite pastime these days. Well, second favorite, maybe.

Steve grouches, but strums the chord and it sounds good, it sounds right. Now he just needs to make the switch to the second chord, and they’ll be home free. Sort of.

“Okay, now move your top finger up to the sixth string, and your ring finger down to the third,” Eddie says, and moves Steve’s fingers to do exactly that.

Steve does it.

“Okay, strum,” and Steve does.

“Good, switch back,” Eddie instructs, and Steve fumbles a little, and Eddie knows that it’s awkward trying to get your fingers to do new things. “Go up with the top finger, and down with the bottom. Then back together, meet in the middle. And apart.”

“Feels like I’m stretching,” Steve says, lewdly.

And Eddie laughs, "You've got a dirty mind, Harrington."

“Excuse me? I'm positive that what I said was innocent. You're the one that made it about something else."

“Yes, you’re totally an innocent bystander here,” Eddie says, leaning his head against Steve’s.

Steve keeps up the switching, as Eddie talks him through it, right against his ear, “And switch, and strum. Switch, strum. Switch, strum,” Eddie says in time with what he has in mind, rhymically. “That’s it, good.”

“Good seems unlikely,” Steve grumbles, but he keeps switching and strumming.

“Keep doing that, right there, just like that, yes,” Eddie says.

“Now, that sounds dirty,” Steve sasses, and Eddie bites him on the neck. Steve jerks, yanking his elbow backwards, suddenly, making an ugly noise on the guitar strings.

In all the flailing, Steve hits their shared bottle of beer, sending it skittering off the overturned red milk crate Eddie was using as a table.

“Fuck, sorry!” Steve yells, and Eddie can tell he’s embarrassed.

“It’s fine. No reason to cry over spilt milk, er, beer in this case, I guess,” Eddie assures, hurrying and crawling over towards the foaming, shooting mess, trying to minimize the spray zone. He grabs a dirty shirt off the floor, and mops up what he can, before tossing the shirt in the vague direction of his dirty clothes hamper. “See? Fine.”

“Yeah, if you like the smell of beer in your bedroom,” Steve grumbles.

“Well, it has smelled of worse things before,” Eddie says, and he laughs when Steve wrinkles his nose.

Eddie scoots back behind him, and kisses him on the neck this time, and Steve leans into the touch instead of jumping out of his skin.

“Put your fingers back where they were,” Eddie instructs, and Steve gets the right strings, but the wrong fret. “Up one fret,” he says, and he helps slide Steve’s fingers back up where they should be.

“And a one and a two,” Eddie teases singsongingly, but Steve starts strumming and switching between the chords with more ease than before. “That’s really good, sweetheart. Now you’re cooking with gas,” Eddie says, and smiles to himself. Now he just sounds like Uncle Wayne always did while he was teaching Eddie all manner of things over the years. Guitar, cooking, how to change a flat tire.

Steve does it, his strumming hand eventually loosening up a little, and Eddie leans his face close to Steve’s.

“Okay, now for the actual strumming pattern,” Eddie says, “put your fingers on that first chord,” and Steve does it. “Great. It’s one, two, three and four. Do an up strum on the ands,” Eddie says, and he takes Steve’s hand to guide the pick across the strings, manipulating him into doing exactly what he wants him to. And then he whispers, “And switch,” and Steve does, so he says, “and switch,” again, and Steve does it, again. “And switch.”

“Stop that, you’re making me horny,” Steve says, laughing at him.

“Just now? I’ve been horny since we started,” Eddie says, pressing his whole body harder all along Steve’s back.

Steve laughs, and lulls back into Eddie, and Eddie kisses his cheek.

“Can you play that now? I’ll count.”

Steve nods, and sits up straighter again, and he fucking does. It’s stilted, and a little awkward, and fucking America, but it’s a song. The bare bones of one, but still music. This is music. He taught Steve Harrington how to play a song, and that’s still pretty wild to ponder.

“One…two…three, and…four, switch,” Eddie says softly, then repeats it when Steve switches from the E minor to the D6/9 chord, and back again. He seems to get it, so Eddie moves to the real strumming pattern.

“First chord: Down, down, up, down, up, down, up, switch,” Eddie instructs, and Steve does it, “Down, up, up, up, down, up,” and it’s a little clumsy.

“No, I think it’s up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, select, start,” Steve sasses, and Eddie laughs out loud.

Steve misses a few of the downs and ups, but he keeps repeating it, and Steve keeps strumming until he's doing it better, more reliably.

And then Eddie gets him up to full speed, increasing the pace of his instructions. Steve’s fingers aren’t totally on board, not yet, but he’s doing a pretty great fucking job for a total beginner.

“Really emphasize and feel that, up, up, up strumming on the D6/9,” Eddie suggests, and Steve does.

Then Steve stops abruptly, “Is this A Horse With No Name?” he asks, “Is that what the fuck I’m playing right now?”

Eddie cackles with delight, “It is! And you recognized it! So, you must have an excellent teacher.”

Steve laughs, and starts playing it again, better now that his ear is involved and he knows what it's supposed to sound like.

So, this time, Eddie sings in his ear instead of counting. He’s not sure he knows all the lyrics, but he makes up what he doesn’t know, and just adds a lot of la la las to fill in the blanks. It’s not exact, and there are more than a few missteps. Steve’s fingers don’t quite have this mastered yet, but he’s playing a fucking song, that’s for damn sure. So, it’s not perfect. Not at all. Not from either of them.

But it's absolutely recognizable.

It sounds fucking great to Eddie, but he knows he might be just a little bit biased.

When the song is over, Steve turns his head to look at Eddie, and Eddie leans forward to kiss him. Steve kisses him back.

He kisses him like he hasn't done it in weeks, months, and Eddie loves him for it. He loves him.

When they finally break apart, Eddie hugs him around his waist, tight.

“Look at that, my boyfriend plays the guitar now.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but says, “Okay, enough guitar lessons, time for bed.”

And Eddie’s not gonna argue with that suggestion, no way, no how.

After, when they are tangled together in Eddie’s sheets, in his room that now smells faintly of beer, Steve mutters, “That fucking song is stuck in my head, now. So, thanks a lot.”

And Eddie rolls into him, laughing uncontrollably, brushing his hand through Steve's mussed hair, pushing it back off his forehead, just like Steve likes.

The damn song is stuck in his head, too, but that’s a small price to pay. For this. For this laughter.

For this love.

I'm sure the Eddie teaches Steve to play guitar trope has been done to death, but when you're given acoustic, guitarfish and incoordination, that seems like an obvious leap to make, lol. (And a shout out to the several YouTube guitar tutorials I mashed this together from!)

Absolutely no pressure tags: @dreamwatch, @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe, @designatedgrape, @wynnyfryd & @penny00dreadful and anyone else that wants to do it! It was pretty dang fun.

And if you now want the same earworm Eddie saddled them both with, enjoy! It's good thing nobody can see what I'm listening to on Spotify, I'm sure this on repeat only alternating with Hallelujah, makes me look slightly unhinged. 🤣

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azrielhours · 10 months

Note

What about virgin Cass and Rhys the absolute menaces 😂 I wonder how that would go.

Omg thank you for asking!! Let’s explore this can of worms 🥴😈

Rhys is the first to lose his virginity because he’s the High Lords son. He’s flirtatious and smooth. He’s like Dorian at the beginning of tog, sweet and chivalrous but a horn dog with many lovers. He used to flirt with the daughters of nobility who were older than him and he loved making them blush.

Women have always found him beautiful and he could tell bc of how they reacted but also bc of his daemati powers. So Rhys has quite the ego even before he’s ever bedded a female. He’s considerate and attentive but keeps his emotions to himself and doesn’t get attached.

His first time is with a Lord’s daughter from his father’s court. He absolutely kept it to himself that it was his first time lmao. He’s very exploratory and isn’t shy about it. Obviously he’s not as good at it as he becomes later, but his curiosity alone helps him satisfy the girl bc he wants to try so much, even if he’s already finished.

Like not to get too explicit but even if he got his, he’d be eager to do a lot of other things literally out of curiosity and that gets the job done for the girl. Rhys tells Cassian all about it after. Cassian listens carefully and wants to bed a woman at that point.

So Cass was the second. Less confident than Rhys but a gentle giant even as a young man. I see him being super into girls and flirting openly, talking himself up and when he actually manages to talk a girl into taking him home, he’s more in over his head than he anticipated. His sweetness makes up for the fact that he didn’t make the girl finish. Months later when he gets good at it, he goes back to her to satisfy her properly.

I can see Cass getting slightly emotionally attached to the girl he loses his virginity to, but he gets over it eventually. Cass goes back to the same lovers more frequently than Rhys does, and we know canonically that he’s the only one that’s had a serious relationship before.

Cassian and Rhys have an easier time showing their sweeter side to women in bed compared to Az, especially if they’re softer or shyer girls. Cassian would be more sweetness and Rhys is more charm, if that discernment makes sense. Cassian would be keenly aware of his hulking frame and try very hard to make it comfortable.

His and Azriel’s first times were at Windhaven with the girls at the camp. There was probably a lot of unabashed talk amongst the other young Illyrians at the camp about fucking women, and that’s where the guys learn about sex, so when they finally do it, they have a rough idea of what’s expected.

Though I feel like I did Az justice in my fic, I think it would likely be a little clumsier irl unless he lucked out and did it w a girl who knew what she was doing. I think he’d be eager to please and do it relatively well, but his more reserved nature would prevent much communication, and he’d be nervous for sure. He’d want to be gentle but wouldn’t quite know the words to say, but the intention is certainly there.

The main thing I tried showing in the fic is that he’s literally never known intimacy or gentleness, like he went from his prison cell to war camp. So when it comes to bedding a woman, he’s gonna be really taken aback by how soft it can be. He’d learn through practice over the years that there is gentleness to be found in intimacy.

I don’t see him being in literally any relationship outside of hookups bc he’s been in love w Mor for centuries, so a lot of his experiences with women and femininity comes from sex. He learns about being a gentleman from that. So sex becomes highly exploratory for him. That’s when he starts getting a little wilder lol but that comes a whileeee later.

He's very attentive and notices every detail and gets good at it pretty fast even if he doesn’t talk about it as freely as Cass or Rhys do. I see him using his shadows to help determine if the girl is enjoying herself.

Cassian tells feyre literally the day they meet her that he, Rhys, and Az all love fucking so this is absolutely an area Azriel let’s himself indulge in, especially bc he knows such little intimacy in his life outside sex.

#acotar headcanons #this was so fun I love group therapy

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rockitmans · 4 months

Note

Hello, I really enjoy your writing and you seem confident in writing smut. Do you have any tips on how to go about it? I find is so awkward!

Hey thank you 😊 I am just a guy with a laptop but I can try my best to tell you some stuff that helps me.

First of all! My number one tip that everyone should follow IS that you really don't have to write smut if you don't want to. Probably obvious, but there's very few fics that actually require detailed smut and if it makes you uncomfy it may not be worth it. BUT I'm sure you know that already and are here for some actual advice so here we go.

Gonna get a tiny bit nsfw but not graphically. All this is advice only, nothing is ever a hard and fast rule, especially in writing. Take what you like and chuck out the rest. Other writers feel free to add on 💖

What's the point of the smut?

Personally I think smut is always better if it is conveying something about the characters or the story. If the point of it is just to be pwp that is absolutely fine ofc but if it's within a larger story what are you trying to convey? Desire for each other that's finally bubbled over? Connection and trust? Playfulness and fun?

Whatever the angle, try and keep that motivation in your mind. If the sex is about connection, focus on the internal feelings, lots of affectionate words between them, a lot of eye contact etc. If it's about that "I must have you now" passion, maybe it's quicker, choppier, more desperate and less talking.

Smut doesn't have to be hot to be good and valid in the story. Maybe it's sometimes deliberately bad sex. Maybe sometimes it's soft and sweet rather than steamy. Don't get too stressed trying to make it titillating (if I may use that word).

Character first

Following on from that. Think about your characters, especially in the context of the AU you've put them in if that's the case. Who would instigate? Who would take charge? If someone is very playful and jokey out of the bedroom, they'll probably take that energy into it. If they're serious and passionate, likewise.

I'm sure as a writer you've often thought that the characters sometimes just do their own thing without your input because you're in their head so much. Let that energy guide you through sex scenes as well. (I very accidentally set myself up for wall sex in one of my fics once because the characters would not shut up about it.)

Write about what you like

Especially for your first few attempts, write about stuff you enjoy. Whether that be in real life, fantasy or you just have an academic interest in. I've been called out multiple times for liking subby Blaine 😂 And yes! I do! I find it fun to write so that's why I write it.

Think about what specifically you enjoy about your scenario and express that on page. This should in turn lead to an enjoyable reading experience! If you're not sure what you like, read some smut and think about what parts of it appeal to you. Avoid writing kinks that squick you out.

It's about the fantasy

I wouldn't get too bogged down in mechanics. Especially of anal sex. Fanfiction is sort of fantasy and doesn't need to be incredibly realistic to be fun. By all means make sure you're conveying a sense of how your characters are positioned and how they are interacting but don't get into the weeds of minutiae if you don't need to. It's not a how-to guide and being too mechanical can remove the spice.

Invoke the five senses

General writing advice is to get all senses involved but it's just as important for smut. A few examples.

Sight: how their partner looks, their body, especially if it's your POV character's first time seeing them naked AND how that makes them feel. Lighting is a good visual way of setting the mood. Soft, romantic lighting for their first time? Candles for romance. Just in broad daylight in the middle of the kitchen for spontaneity.

Sound: Gasping, sighing, moaning, their partners voice. Are they talking? Laughing? Why? Are things going wrong or are they just giddy and excited? Is there people nearby that they can hear that adds to the thrill? Do they play music?

Smell: smells on the other person they've never noticed because they've never been that close before. I tend to avoid talking about unpleasant smells because it kind of takes you out of the moment. But washing powder, cologne, shampoo, all that stuff is golden.

Taste: I'm sure you can use your imagination on this one! The taste of their partners mouths when kissing, the taste of salt on their skin, the taste of them intimately

Touch: This one is so key! Are touches deliberate or incidental? Gentle or rough? What emotion does a certain touch invoke? Capturing sensation and mood can be more effective than pure description sometimes. And the touch doesn't just have to come from each other. What about the feel of the sheets? Toys? Are they having sex on a surface that is hard or rough?

Write scared

Posting smut is intimidating and a lil scary, especially the first time but probably several times after that as well. As the well known saying goes: Feel the fear and do it anyway. We all start somewhere and we are all constantly improving. If you are very brave you can ask for con crit but otherwise it's just a skill to hone like any other. I believe in you!

#sorry this got long #hope theres something there you can use!#asks #writing tips #i suppose #although i don't feel qualified

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mistmarauder · 20 days

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers Podficcers Apparently

Tagged by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels because she thinks she's funny. Spoiler alert, she is. <3

How many works do you have on ao3?

I have 111 atm which is such an amazing number. Look at the ones!

What's your total Ao3 word count?

80,874

What fandoms do you write podfic for?

Mostly 9-1-1, but I've dabbled in Lone Star. I also have a podfic each for both One Piece and BG3. Before I got to 9-1-1, I mainly podficced for The Magnificent Seven: 2016.

Top 5 Podfics Fics by Kudos:

[Podfic] come on, come on (turn a little faster) - My One Piece podfic leads the way! It was written by @kenbunshokus. <3

[Podfic] Leading with the Left - I'm sure you're all SHOCKED to see this one on here. @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels killed us all with this masterpiece.

[Podfic] I Hate Accidents (Except When We Went From Friends to This) - @morganofthefairies gave us oblivious idiots, and I gave you all a podfic. <3

[Podfic] Love in the Time of TikTok - This one was written by @buckttommy, and the fact that it's so high is a testament to how fucking funny she can be.

[Podfic] To Build a Home We Deconstruct Our Rituals - It's @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels back to ruin our lives again.

Do you respond to comments?

I do! I fall behind sometimes, but I always catch up! 💃

What is the podfic fic you recorded wrote with the angstiest ending?

Pretty much everything I've ever podficced ends happily or with some sort of hopeful ending. I have to go with [Podfic] the nighttime fear (see it coming from the edge of the room) which was written by @extasiswings. It's a short introspective piece with no happy ending. I don't think there is another that ends unhappily for me to even consider, honestly.

What's the podfic fic you recorded wrote with the happiest ending?

LMAO! They're pretty much all end happily, as I just said.

Do you get hate on podfics fics?

No. Never.

Do you record write smut?

Oh yeah. I've recorded plenty. 😂

Craziest crossover?

I've only recorded one, and it wasn't crazy considering it was just a 9-1-1 and 9-1-1: Lone Star crossover. It was [Podfic] These Are My Stompin' Grounds written by @benjaminrussell.

Have you ever had a podfic fic stolen?

Idek how this would be possible.

Have you ever had a podfic fic translated?

Why did Mads tag me in this game? NOT ALL OF THESE QUESTIONS CAN BE ANSWERED, MADS.

Have you co-recorded co-written a podfic fic before?

I've had people guest star, and I've participated in one multivoice podfic.

All time favorite ship?

Are you fucking kidding me? How am I supposed to choose? Probably Buddie, even though that feels wrong because it's not even my current hyperfixation. I've never created as much for another ship though.

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Oh, I'm gonna finish all my shit. Don't you worry.

What are your podficcing writing strengths?

Fuck. Idk? I think I have good pacing and emote really well. And my editing has improved tremendously over the years.

What are your podficcing writing weaknesses?

I'm hypercritical and tend to overedit at times. To the point that it sounds unnatural. I'll also just shove entire projects to the side if I don't meet my own standards, so there are quite a few things haunting me from the WIP folder atm.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I've very rarely had to record in another language. Especially in the last few years. For my Mag7 podfics, there's a bit of Spanish and a small amount French, and they're kind of embarrassing for me to listen to. I've honestly considered taking them down, but I know there are people who enjoy them. So, I never do. There's a bit of Spanish in at least two of my early 9-1-1 podfics as well. I always try my best with it, but I only speak English, so I'm always super paranoid about fucking it up. I'll avoid recording entire fics just because there are other languages in them.

First fandom you podficced for wrote in?

The Magnificent Seven: 2016

Favorite podfic fic you've recorded written?

[Podfic] Carbon Date Me, Excavate Me written by @extasiswings and @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels is my fucking baby. I've listened to that fucking podfic so many times...

But my current favorite that I listen to regularly is [Podfic] nothing is safe written by @foxflowering which is my BG3 podfic. I have other BG3 projects in my WIP folder, but I'm so self-conscious about my ability to voice those characters that they're not coming out anytime soon. I was hyperfixated af on this ship for a while though and listened to this damn podfic on repeat. Also, @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels guest starred in it, so it has a special place. <3

Tagging, with all the pressure because I refuse to suffer alone: @blackestglass @mayonnaisetoffees @brasscacti @rhea314

And then some writers, who this is actually meant for: @theyarnmaidstale @queerbuckleys @honestlydarkprincess @peridotglimmer @gayhoediaz

@homerforsure @princessfbi @sibylsleaves @rewritetheending @fleurdebeton

@hazel-athena @buckactuallys @kitkatpancakestack @buckttommy @kittykatthetacodemon

#tag games #mist speaks

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bunnimew · 10 months

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Hi! Are you in the Blackice fandom too? Sorry, I know I’m probably being so random to a bunch of you in the fandom, but I just joined and I’m obsessed! This seems like a rather small fandom at this point, not too many people are in it, are they? Anyways, happy to know at least some people are in the fandom!

Any tips you could give me about black ice art/fics/blogs/content/etc would be greatly appreciated!

BOY ARE WE EVER IN THE BLACKICE FANDOM 😂 And no worries! We love getting asks! WE ARE ALSO OBSESSED. WE HAVE SO MUCH SHIT PLANNED FOR THESE BOYS.

The fandom is quite small, but I think that makes for a better experience honestly. :) More cozy, more personal, easier to get to know and support each other! IN FACT. We (there are two of us who run this blog) are mods for a little rotg discord server, if you’d like to join and scream with us! :D Just let us know if you’d like an invite and we can hook you up.

I believe @9haharharley1 (who also has some great fics! <3) recommended some artists and writers already, but HERE’S MORE:

I know @miss-evening has a huge archive of blackice arts/writings/headcanons on their blog. We found a lot of content from the fandom in its hay day there. :)

@department-of-fagriculture‘s and @livori ‘s art of the past are some of my personal favorites if you scroll through the blackice tag. Also @madam--mark actively makes lovely blackice art in such an expressive style! And @froggyfeetsies has some really sweet and hilarious blackice! Also check out @candraz, @sigilspell, @overmooneleven, @nyuzzz, @drei-zawa, just to name a few!

For fics, both of us tend to like the more fluffy/fun variety with Pitch and Jack being a badass power couple (who are also disasters) getting into all kinds of shenanigans. 😂To rec just a few:

PLS check out Five Veils and a Heartbeat by BurrrdBrainedInsomnia. Royal AU that has a bit of a dark premise but totally flips some common tropes around. It’s so refreshing and the dynamic between the boys is just fun and cozy and I JUST WANT THEM TO KISS ALREADY. 🤣 Also check out their other fics. They write blackice in all kinds of flavors. :) AND THEY DO ART SOMETIMES! THE WHOLE PACKAGE RIGHT HERE! @stuffdone 👈

A Dragon and His Prince by Frostre. PITCH IS A DRAGON. AND HE’S ACE. AND IT’S A WILD RIDE. Top ten easily. ;D

To Dream of Respite by shipwreck. Modern AU with ace!Jack and it’s SO good. Just. Totally compelling, emotional story. Highly recommend.

The Device has Been Modified by Lindzzz. Their evil boyfriend series was great but this AU is so cute! Jack is an AI accidentally made by Pitch! Chaos ensues!

Also PLS check out fics by penning the stars! They have so many cute blackice one shots!

And we’re just gonna second Lines And Colors. They have so many blackice fics that are just *chef’s kiss*.

Hope that’s good to start! Hit us up any time if you want more anything. We could scream about these boys forever. 🤣

#ask #rise of the guardians #rotg #rotg fic recs #blackice #jack frost #pitch black #blackice rotg #blackicerotg #THERE IS A LOT OF GOOD SHIT OUT THERE

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withahappyrefrain · 7 months

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Hey Abby! So glad you brought the positivity night back, I think we all need a minute to chill out.

Sending all the love to everyone I list off, as well as to anyone that I forget because there are so so many amazing, positive, and fandom nurturing people and accounts out there and we really need to step in the way-back machine and remember that fandom is community!

Gonna get off the soapbox now 😂

@startrekfangirl2233 -> I feel like y’all are sleeping on here work! Her series You Are My Soulmate with Roo is currently driving me up the wall because he is so stubborn and it’s just fantastically written. On top of her amazing work, she is a fantastic friend and I love her to pieces!

@sarahsmi13s -> I currently blame her (affectionately) for my muse going in 7 different directions right now, but she is just the sweetest. She is working so hard to bring us all some amazingly heart-wrenching whumptober things and she is doing fantastic. Such an amazing person who deserves all the shout outs!

@mayhemmanaged -> May has been one of the biggest supporters of my series AGAD since she found out I was writing it. She has her own series, Heavy is the Head, that is just fantastically plotted and y’all aren’t ready for some of the twists (I will catch up May, I promise)! Yet again, very sweet, very kind, and very much needed a shout out

@horseshoegirl -> Lucky makes me scream. That’s it. Her series Damn Those Dog Tags is just so fucking amazing and I still have to catch up, but oh my god. She is such a kind and warm person and I have always felt safe and supported when chatting with her. Such a good person with a chaotic horse and yeah…

@roosterforme -> Em. My first real connection in the TGM fandom and honestly, she’s just incredible. All of her stories are so fleshed out and the characters are all so different, yet they still have those elements of strength in them at all times. Roo and BG (the first series) was one of the first fics I read for this fandom, and on top of writing 3 or 4 series at once, she is also so supportive and kind and I will get more Roo and Rosie for you!

@footprintsinthesxnd -> Jess is just a sweetheart. Point blank. Her series, The Good Die Young, another wwii AU for Jake (iykyk 👀), is one of the reasons that I wanted to rewrite my own series set in wwii. She’s been through a lot this year and yet still offered to help me research for my own work. Show her some love and support because she is incredibly kind and generous, and also an amazing friend.

@bradshawsweetheart -> Riley, one, I’m sorry for all that bullshit that happened a few days ago. Two, Good Vibrations was AMAZING (still have to reblog it but I’m getting there!) Three, you come off as such a kind person and I honestly can’t wait to get to know you better!

@roosterbruiser -> Millie, you always hurt me. I’m still playing catch-up with Cruel Summer, but I don’t think that I have read another fic with so much hidden darkness in it. Horror is not my genre by any means but your skill with words is just phenomenal. I have screamed at you enough times to know how sweet you are behind that all of that angst you throw at us, and I’m so thankful that your fic fell into my lap!

@teacupsandtopgun -> Beth, we only really just connected and I love how positive you are! Jake and Flick are on my TBR pile rn and I will get there! I wish I could say more, but I’m really excited to get to know you!

@bobfloydsbabe -> a sweetheart. I will get to Professor Bob at some point but I just know that it’s going to be amazing!

Abby, I will probably be back when I remember who I have forgotten, but I cannot wait to see how this night turns out!

And PSA to those who don’t find their names up here! You are still loved and appreciated! You are valued in this fandom and don’t ever feel like you aren’t enough!

Fern, thank you!!! You have introduced me to people who sound awesome, which is my favorite thing about Positivity night!!!

#positivity night

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amazingmsme · 5 months

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Curtwen hcs cuz 🤷‍♀️ (these two are on my mind 24/7)

Owen LOVES to play the 'how long can i keep my hands behind my head' game, and Curt loves trying to break him (which he always does eventually). Curt loves to tease him through focused gritted teeth, like "oh yeah is this difficult?? You better not laugh or i'll think this is working~" meanwhile Owen's squinting real hard and trying his darndest not to squeal.

(Idea bc im sore as hell rn) Curt gets sore rly easily bc of his stature and his workout schedule compared to Owen, so he may need some massages. BUT theyre in some abnormal areas—like the hamstrings, his sides/lower ribcage, or (god rest his soul) his feet. Bonus points if Owen genuinely wants to help and is trying to make it as un-tickly as possible, but that doesn't change anything.

The first 'interrogation roleplay' they did occured after 1) Curt got knocked out by the baddies, 2) Owen defeated the baddies and stole one of their outfits, and 3) Owen decided itd be the funniest prank. Curt thinjs he's gonna hurt him but then he pulls out a feather (somehow?? However tf he'd just have one-) and goes to town. Curt is MEGA embarassed but Owen reveals his disguise and apologizes <3

Been thinking about this ask ever since I got it & I can’t get over this, it’s SO GOOD & everything I could eAa qver ask for! I need fics with all of these ideas stat!

Owen LOVES the challenge of keeping still & thinks he’s so superior for being able to hold still, even if ict’s literally just for a few minutes. He’ll be white knuckling the headboard, gripping on for dear life until he finally breaks & pulls his arms down! Curt LOVES to tease the shit out of him because usually the shoe is on the other foot lol

Curt is ABSOLUTELY too ticklish for a massage! Not that Owen minds, he thinks it’s really cute & endearing. But Curt gets so flustered & nervous when offered a massage & tries to come up with excuses about how Owen doesn’t have to do that for him or it doesn’t hurt as bad & he just needs to walk it off, but Owen insists that he help take the edge off. & at first he tries to make it not tickle, but it’s just too tempting & Curt is way too cute & ticklish for his own good!

That’s 100% how that played out! Maybe it was supposed to be a solo mission but they both were assigned to the same one so they didn’t know the other would be there. It would be HILARIOUS if Owen got there first & already completed the whole thing before Curt even got there & when he spots him sneaking around he gets the most devious lil grin as he comes up with his master plan. He probably found the feather rooting around an office & there was a mug full of fancy fountain & quill pens & snags one. He sneaks up on Curt & knocks him out before he even knows what hit him & he slaps on a fake disguise & waits for him to come to & has some fun. Uses a cheesy fake accent, coming on a little too strong for a villain & then takes him completely off guard with the tickling! Curt is so confused & embarrassed when he starts using the feather & through choked back giggles he’s like “what kind of fucking bad guy are you?” & Owen pulls off the disguise with a shit eating grin & goes “one of a kind” Curt is relieved it’s not actually one of their targets, but he could kill him😂 he’s just gotta get his revenge, which he does as soon as they’re behind closed doors (in a safe location)

#asks #fruitee-goose #saf headcanons #spies are forever headcanons #curtwen headcanons #curtwen #owen carvour #curt mega #special agent curt mega #spies are forever #saf

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summerwritesfics · 7 months

Text

🌎While We Escape Just To Survive

Pairing: None Length: 2091 Words Rating: Mature Warnings: Cyberpunk AU, On The Run, Escape, Fights, Starvation, Corrupt Military, Dystopia, Morally Dubious Science Experiments, Genetic Engineering, Human Experimentation, Human Weapon, Angst, Bi-Han Get’s His Ass Kicked By An Old Woman, Dine And Dashing, Simulations

Meanwhile In Another Universe Masterlist

Notes: So, uh, let’s face it, it was only a matter of time until I posted something cyberpunk-ish for this series given my bias for that genre. The three boys have been through some shit in this, Kuai definitely has had some horrible shit happen to him (because this is me, and despite how much I love him I’ve made it my life mission to make him suffer… because I love him 💕) Also sidenote, but my original draft for this I didn’t actually name Kung Lao or Raiden, refering to them as the man and the other man respectively, and reading it back I was like “oooh, I need to change this.” So, if their name drops seem a bit forced that’s why 😂 Fic title is from “Neo-Tokyo” by Scandroid. :)

Bi-Han’s eyes darted around the room. The teahouse was busy, groups of people huddled around tables as they ate and drank their cares away. Bi-Han wished he could join them, forget all his worries for the night and get so shitfaced he couldn’t walk straight. But they couldn’t relax, not when The Lin Kuei were still hot on their heels. Really stopping at all was risky, but it had been days since they’d last eaten, and Kuai Liang was already looking frail enough as it was.

“So. What exactly are we gonna do when we’re asked to pay?” Tomas questioned, although he kept his tone low. Bi-Han returned his attention to him. “We don’t have any money to pay for this.”

“We’re going to dip before they can even show us the bill,” Bi-Han informed him, leaning across the table.

“Thats- That doesn’t feel right to me,” Tomas muttered, shaking his head. “We’re just stealing at that point.”

“Well what else do you suggest we do?” Bi-Han asked roughly. Tomas shut his mouth and remained silent. “That’s what I thought.” Bi-han surveyed the teahouse again. “Besides, with how packed this place is, the owner’s probably making bank. Three street rats dipping on their payment won’t cause a dent.”

“They cannot take the money with them to the grave,” Kuai mused, completely out of nowhere, causing Bi-Han and Tomas to share a bemused glance. “And the grave is the final destination for all.”

This had been happening with alarming frequency since they’d escaped. Kuai Liang saying the weirdest, creepiest and most cryptic shit imaginable, completely unprompted. It was unnerving, especially coming from his once cheerful sunshine younger brother. But since they had been inducted into The Lin Kuei, his personality had changed. The Kuai that Bi-Han remembered was still there, he was still the sweet and kindly person he’d always been, yet there was also this morbid side that would slip out. And sometimes, even when Kuai was happy and smiling, his eyes looked vacant, like he was a million miles away.

Bi-Han didn’t know what experiments The Lin Kuei performed on his brother, but if he ever found out, he’d make sure they suffered the same fate a thousand times over.

“That aside,” Tomas began, shuffling in his seat like he was uncomfortable. “We’ll need to wait until the old woman who owns this place is distracted. She doesn’t feel like the type who’ll let us go without a fight.”

Bi-Han nodded, the woman in question was across the room, talking with two young men who’d walked in seconds earlier. It seemed she knew them, given how the three seemed to be laughing and joking with one another. Bi-Han glanced at their table, they’d all finished eating and there seemed like no better time than now to try and make an escape.

“She seems pretty distracted now.” Bi-Han declared, pushing himself to stand up. He grabbed Kuai’s arm to try and get him to get up with them. “Let’s go.”

His brothers silently agreed with him. He kept his grip on Kuai, somewhat scared of losing him somewhere in the crowd. He could see Tomas from the corner of his eye, as the three of them tried to make a quick exit. They were so close, they just had to make it to the door.

And then the old lady stepped out in front of them with her arms crossed over her chest.

“And where exactly do you three think you’re going?” She questioned, glaring at them like they were lower than dirt.

“Uh, we were just going to get some fresh air,” Tomas immediately chimed in, although the grimace on his face gave him away. Dammit Tomas. He always was the worst liar of the three of them.

“Oh of course. You’ll be free to get all the fresh air you like, once you pay your bill.”

Bi-Han hissed, letting go of Kuai and stepping forward, keeping himself tall and trying to look as dangerous as he could muster.

“Move out of our way,” he growled, the threat implied by his tone. “And I won’t have to hurt you.”

“Do not try me, young man,” she snapped back, pointing her finger at him. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Bi-Han felt his rage rising, and before he even registered what he was doing his fist was flying towards her face. He was surprised when rather than hitting his target, her hand darted up and grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. He tried pulling back, but damn was this woman far stronger than she looked.

He attempted to punch her with his other hand, only for the same thing to happen again. Except she suddenly released his first wrist and got in a punch herself. He stumbled back slightly, only to feel himself flying forward as she yanked on the wrist she still had a hold of. He sloppily threw his fist again, completely missing her.

A leg swept at his feet and he hit the floor. The woman stood above him and he threw yet another punch, just for her to yet again catch it. This time, she flipped him over onto his stomach. There was a pressure on his lower back, realising she was sitting on top of him, bending his arm behind him so far his shoulder began to ache in protest.

“Get off me!” He thrashed, but stopped when he almost dislocated his shoulder. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Madame Bo!” Bi-Han looked up to see the two young men who’d been talking to her run over. “What’s going on?”

“Just a few street rats attempting to dine and dash, Raiden, nothing to worry about.” She yanked on Bi-Han’s arm, and he gave a pained and angry scream.

“Wait, please, we’re sorry,” Tomas tried, holding his arms in front of him. “We haven’t eaten in weeks and we have no money.”

“That may be so,” Madame Bo huffed, “but if you have no money, you should not come into a restaurant. I have bills to pay too, you know?”

“We are so sorry,” Tomas pleaded, and Bi-Han shot him the dirtiest look he could. The fact he was pandering to these people was pissing him off. “We don’t have a way to pay, but we’ll make it up to you.”

Madame Bo scoffed, until one of the two men, the one who wasn’t Raiden, cleared his throat, “how about we pay for their meal, would that de-escalate this situation?”

“You boys would really do that?” Madame Bo questioned, raising an eyebrow at them. Both of them nodded. She gave an annoyed sigh, as she commented “you two are too good for this world, and certainly too good for people like this.”

“Fuck you!” Bi-Han growled and he began to struggle again. “We don’t need your fucking handouts.”

“Bi-Han, it’s either let them pay or get your arm broken,” Tomas pointed out, desperation in his voice. Bi-Han was ready to scream at him, until he looked at Kuai Liang.

He wasn’t even watching the scene in front of him, his eyes fixed somewhere else, completely glazed over. Shit.

“Fine,” He spat out, “just get this crazy old bitch off of me!”

Finally Madame Bo let go of his arm and got off his back. He pushed himself to sit up, Tomas running to his side to help him. Meanwhile, Kuai didn’t move. Madame Bo walked over to the two boys, wiping down her dress with her hands and glaring over her shoulder at Bi-Han.

“That’s Madame Crazy Old Bitch to you,” she snapped, and Bi-Han jerked forward to attack her again, only for Tomas to grab the back of his shirt and stop him.

“How much do they owe you?” The man asked, getting out his payment card.

“150 credits, Kung Lao” she said, and the guys eyebrows raised at that.

“Only 150 credits? Shit, I spend triple that on just myself.” Kung Lao passed the card over to Madame Bo before looking toward Tomas and Bi-Han. “You really can’t afford 150 credits?”

Well no, because we’re homeless and jobless and on the fucking run from a corrupt military sect.

As much as Bi-Han wished that was his answer, instead he just bared his teeth at the man.

“We tried to spend as little as we could so the damages would be as low as possible,” Tomas lied. They hadn’t really thought that far ahead, it was more that they’d just got enough to maybe keep them going for a couple more days.

While Kung Lao began to generally converse with Madame Bo about the bill, Raiden was preoccupied with Kuai Liang. When Bi-Han looked towards his brother, he was still staring vacantly at nothing. He’d had moments like this, but not for as long as this seemed to have lasted.

“Uh, hey,” Raiden started, reaching a hand forward to touch Kuai’s shoulder. His entire body tensed and his eyes widened. “Are you okay?”

“Is this real?” Kuai asked, voice sounding panicked, head snapping to the man beside him. “Or… Am I just going to wake up in that laboratory again?”

Laboratory? Bi-Han’s gut twisted and he rushed to his feet. Stumbling a little, Tomas grabbed him before he fell to the floor again. He reached for Kuai, taking his face in his hands. Kuai looked at him with watery eyes.

“You always die,” Kuai whispered, blinking and causing the tears to roll down his cheeks. “They always make sure I can’t save you, and you die.” Kuai’s hands came up to grab his wrists. “And then there is fire, and burning, and it hurts but I can’t stop it because it’s coming from me.”

“Kuai Liang,” Bi-Han breathed out, he had no idea what to say. “I’m okay. I’m not dead yet.”

“But you will. One day.” He nuzzled against Bi-Han’s hands and gripped him just a little tighter. “And I don’t know that I will be able to hold back. I am The Scorpion. My destiny is to turn the world to ash.”

“What?” Madame Bo questioned, and when Bi-Han turned to look at her, she was looking… terrified .

“Sorry, he’s not been the same since-“ Tomas began and stopped himself, realising that explaining too much would give away who they were and what they were running from. “He’s just very unwell right now.”

Madame Bo approached them again, slapping Bi-Han’s hands away from Kuai. He had no idea why he complied. She gently angled Kuai’s head towards her.

“What is your designation?” She asked, and Bi-Han immediately went cold.

“LK-520,” Kuai said without hesitation. Bi-Han’s head was screaming at him to do something. If she knew to ask for a designation, that meant she was familiar with The Lin Kuei’s ways. It meant she could call them to collect the brothers.

And yet, the way she pursed her lips, how gently she pat Kuai’s head. Bi-Han got the feeling she wasn’t going to rat them out.

“Oh. I’m so sorry, boy.” She closed her eyes and sighed, before turning slightly to Bi-Han. “You three are Lin Kuei.”

“Lin what?” Kung Lao questioned, but Madame Bo ignored them.

“Please,” Bi-Han whispered, reaching to grab Kuai’s hand. “Please don’t tell them where we are.”

“I won’t tell them a thing,” she assured him. “I am just like you.” Bi-Han paused at that. Did she just admit to being a Lin Kuei runaway? It would explain how she was such a skilled fighter. “I never thought they’d actually go through with the Scorpion Project. It was barbaric, even by their standards.”

“I am so confused right now,” Raiden complained, rubbing his head like it was hurting him.

“They did something to him,” Bi-Han explained, ignoring the man completely in favour of Madame Bo. “I don’t know what but-“

“We should not talk of such things in the open,” Madame Bo told him in a hushed tone. Her hand went to take Kuai Liang’s. “Come into the back room. I can explain everything.” Her eyes flicked over to the two men. “To you two as well.”

And with that, she was walking across the teahouse, gently pulling Kuai behind her. Bi-Han sighed and looked at Tomas. Silently, it seemed they agreed this was about as good as this situation was going to get. So, they followed, hoping to god they’d get answers to what had happened to Kuai in that God forsaken laboratory.

Although Bi-Han had a terrible feeling the truth would be worse than he could have imagined.

#mortal kombat #kuai liang #sub zero #scorpion #bi han #noob saibot #tomas vrbada #smoke #🌎meanwhile in another universe

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