#this au is heartbreaking oml | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ciy0 · 2 years ago

Text

☆*:.｡.ONLY YOU.｡.:*☆

Summary - The one where Mingyu is inlove with his sweet friend y/n and copes by using other women to fill the you shaped hole in his heart.

Word Count - 1.4k

Content Warning - 18+ Sexual Content and Vulgar Language, Fem!Reader, Implied College Au, One Siding Pining[or is it], Twist at the End, Rosé and Wonwoo are in here, Mingyu’s Morals are Questionable, So is the Reader’s, Mingyu was A Hoe, Rough Sex, Jacking off, Obsessive!Mingyu, Argument & Breakup

a/n - i have to give props to @bvbysita because their posts have been keeping me up at night oml i can’t stop thinking about them, it definitely was in mind while i wrote this ahh (￣∇￣) i am a simple woman and i must give credit for the inspiration ☆彡

☆*:.｡.o .｡.:*☆

“You know you’re so obvious?” Wonwoo asked suddenly as he passed by Mingyu in their shared kitchen.

Mingyu arched a brow, “Hello to you too, about what hyung?,” He asked while offering a spoon to him to taste the Alfredo mixture he was currently working on.

“First I thought it was just a coincidence that they had the same eyes,” Wonwoo started after trying the concoction, “needs more salt— then another had the same lips, the next having the same nose...”

“Hyung what are you going on about?,” Mingyu brows furrowing in confusion as he reached for the seasoning cabinet.

“But it really clicked when you introduced me to your current girlfriend Rosé,” Wonwoo finalized, “She has the same exact beauty mark on her face… the same one Y/n has.”

There was a beat of silence, Mingyu pausing slightly before actually opening the cabinet, “We’re just good friends Hyung, Y/n’s not the only one allowed to have certain features you know… it’s just a coincidence-“

“Was it a coincidence when I heard you moan her name last night too?”

“ - And what are you doing, spying on me now?” Mingyu shot back, lisp slightly appearing. He chose to focus his sight back on the pasta instead of giving into his hyungs ruthless prying. His breath coming a bit heavier at being put on the spot.

Wonwoo decided to calm down on his assault seeing the agitation in the younger one’s shoulders, “…Does she know?”

Mingyu couldn’t help but laugh bitterly, “She’s fucking oblivious…”

You that is. The girl of his dreams who never once looked his way. Side stepping all his advances, treating him like you treated everyone else. What was he to do? Maybe it was childish how he subconsciously searched for any glimpse of you in all the girls who approached him. Running through women like a marathon because none of them were the original. The original didn’t want him how he wanted her. So weak as the man he is he let counterfeits fill the place reserved for you.

It was wrong though, he knew his exes and current girlfriend didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve to be compared, didn’t deserve to have their faces coldly smushed in his pillows so he could imagine the curvature of their backs to be yours instead. Large hand muffling their moans in slight frustration because he knew you wouldn’t sound like that. Knew you’d sound prettier—lovelier. Jacking off pathetically in his hand after curtly sending them home, free hand scrolling desperately through innocent pics of you he cropped from group photos kept tucked away in his phone. It’s what he did last night after Rosé [begrudgingly] left.

He blatantly saw the hesitancy in her movements as she gathered her things, probably hoping he’d finally ask her stay the night only to be met with a quick “night babe” and a swift kiss to the cheek. He knew he should’ve tried harder — harder to get over you. Harder to invest himself more in his relationships instead of using them for a short moment of companionship but it became so involuntary. And he’d see the heartbreak in their eyes when they’d ultimately meet you. Seeing the adoring side of himself that they desperately wanted for themselves all spent on you. Running back and forth on your beck and call, dropping everything to come to your aid like a loyal puppy. Usually shortly after that display his exes would give him an ultimatum and seeing as they’re no longer together his answer came too easy.

“You know Rosé is in love with you,” Wonwoo reminded as he made his way to their living room with a sigh. “It’s better to cut it off now before things get messy.”

Mingyu chose not to reply because he fucking knew that already. Out of all his exes she was the closest he got to moving on. He knew how much she loved him, it was clear with how she looked at him and she was great, got along with his friends well, kind to his family, easy on the eyes… but you—you were amazing, his friends adored you, his family treated you like their own, you were the most beautiful woman he’d even seen and— Fuck just like that he compared you guys again.

He finished up the pasta, lost in his thoughts before serving Wonwoo his plate and joining him in the living room. They fell into a relaxed conversation on something different than the charged one from before. Mid-sentence he felt his phone ding in his sweatpants pocket. It was from you. You never texted him first like this and he couldn’t stop the flip his heart did. He excused himself to head to his bed room, clicking facetime as he climbed into his bed.

“Ya,” Was the first thing he heard once you accepted, “Don’t you know how to text sir?” You pouted playfully, “You always facetime me so abruptly, what if i looked a mess?! Just text like a normal person. ”

He couldn’t help but longingly smile at your nagging. No, he wanted any excuse to see your pretty face. You? Look like a mess? Never. Not possible. “It’s easier to just talk plus i missed you cutie” He flashed his canines as he threw an arm behind his head.

You rolled your eyes, “ You saw me at Cheol’s frat party literally the other day but anyways I have a question,” now back on topic your countenance dimmed a bit, “I-Is everything okay with you and Rosé?”

He instantly sat up at the sudden change in mood and inquiry. “Hey hey look at me, what’s wrong?” His thumb brushed against the screen, “We’re fine, why did you hear anything? Y/n look at me”

You bit your lip unsurely, “She messaged me… she told me to stay away? She blamed me for the issues in your relationship?” Your slightly damp lash line at the supposed claim caused his chest to squeeze painfully. “I-I thought you both were doing well, i’m so confused Gyu—“

Mingyu’s eye involuntarily twitched at this nugget of information. But in the moment he chose consoling you over confronting Rosé. He cooed softly at you, calming your worries, “Shhh don’t worry about that, I’ll talk to her but i need you to smile for me first baby— need to know you’re okay. Don’t cry.”

You gave him a wobbly smile, nodding your head as he showered you with praises to ease your mind. You blamed yourself for how angry she was, you didn’t know what you possibly did for her to spew such nasty things at you but Mingyu’s comforting purrs helped cheer you up.

Once he was sure enough that you calmed down enough he ended the call with a “go relax baby, i’ll come by in a bit” and a tender eye smile before immediately dialing Rosé number, expression darkening.

She picked up on the first ring, “Hi baby! What’s-“

“What the hell is your problem?!” he chided abruptly. “How could you talk to Y/n like that?! She’s been nothing but kind to you.”

“Wh-What? Mingyu, what are you talking about, I never-“

“Don’t fucking lie to—,” he shut his eyes trying to simmer himself down, “Listen let’s just end it here, okay? You were a nice girl but we both know we weren’t progressing any further than this. Don’t come around anymore, bye.”

Rosé was speechless. She checked her messages and there was nothing recently sent to Y/n— what was going on? She tried to cut in to clear her name but she was met with the sound of an ended call. When she tried texting you her messages wouldn’t send. Did you—

She grabbed her things to rush over to your dorm to verify if what she dared to think be true. She missed the familiar parked car she’d been in too many times to count in her frazzled state once she reached your building. Catching her breath she reached to bang on your door just to freeze at the deep voice she jus heard on the phone a bit earlier from the other side.

“Fuuckkk Y/n, you feel amazing. I-I’m so glad you feel the same way. Do you know how long i waited for this huh? I love— fuck you’re such a dream— i love you so fucking much baby. Gonna love on you all night, yeah? None of them could come close, not even a little— don’t haaah don’t hide your moans from me pretty girl. Need to hear them, god-”

Wet smacks and smooches, desperate moans, violent squeaks coming from your cheap college mattress and between them all breathy declarations of love surrounded Rosé’s eardrums as she fell to the ground gasping into her palm in utter defeat.

#mingyu x reader #mingyu x y/n #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu scenarios #mingyu smut #mingyu imagines #svt smut #seventeen smut #mingyu hard hours #svt x reader #seventeen x reader

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brrrkdslek · 2 years ago

Text

BLEAURGHHH

𖡎 youtube compilation of atinys favourite vlive moments of m/n taking care of his drunken members

𖡎 ateez x 9th member! male! reader

𖡎 ot9 au, after wanteez ep. 19, 20, 21, zb1 n xikers r mentioned!

𖡎 drunken behaviour(LMAO), suggestive(kinda idk)

𖡎 ignore the title😭 it'll make sense afterwards

clip 1 — mingki's heartbroken era💔

the phone wobbled as you set it some place high so the atinys could witness the dead bodies that sprayed across the dormitory living room. you sweatdropped internally.

atiny1: LMAOOO ARE THEY DEAD???😭😭

atiny69: HAHHA WHAT HAPPENED BAE⁉️⁉️🤭

you scratched your head, "yeah... well, i dunno how this happened either..." suddenly, a wild mingi knocks you to the ground in a bear hug, "ah- mingi, get off! you're so heavy-" you shut up immediately as you heard soft sniffling coming from the male as he clung onto the leg of your pants.

"mingi...?" you slowly lifted the boy up and cupped his cheeks as his eyes were filled with tears, you cooed at him, "awh, what's wrong my princess?"

atiny1: WHAT🫣

atiny2: PRINCESS!?!?!?!?ASLFAENALJ

atiny3: MNGKI FOR LIFE🫂

atiny1: I BELIEVE IN MNGKI👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

atiny2: MNGKI MNGKI MNGKI

atinky69: KISSKISSKISS PLSPLPSLPSL

atiny127: GYATT🕺🏻🕺🏻🕺🏻🕺🏻

atiny1: ???😭

mingi sniffled and mumbled incoherently, "hey, hey, hey, slow down. shhh, i'm here..." you press your forehead against his as he sniffled and hiccupped.

atiny1117: AWWHHHHH NO WAY THEY STRAIGHT🥶

atiny2: LMAOOOO

atiny1: STOP U GUYS R RUINGIN THE MOMENT LMFAO

you cradled the larger male in your lap as mingi buried his head into your stomach, "what's bothering you, love?"

atiny3: they make me so happy :(((

atiny127: REAL🍆🍑💦

atiny69: WHAT😰

"do you hate me...?" you were so shocked you had to look into the camera to make sure you heard it right. "w-what? what are you talking about, mings?"

atiny1: WE HEARD THAT TOO OML🥺🥺🥺

atiny666: what'd i miss

atiny1117: WAAAAA😭

"during w-wanteez today,,, you- you didn't wanna sit next to me, uhhhh-" mingi began crying again upon the upsetting reminder of his heartbreak as you had to physically hold yourself back from laughing.

it's not that you didn't want to sit next to mingi, it was just the way he acted when he's drunk. it's confirmed when he screamed in yeosang's face during the games so yes, you were terrified of drunken mingi.

atiny3: AHAHA HES SO CUTE

atiny69: [image] ME RN LMAOAO

atiny666: THIS IS SO FUNNY WHAT😭😭

atiny1: WHERRE THE CLIPPERS AT⁉️⁉️🙃

"o-oh honey... i don't hate you," mingi looks up at you with glossy eyes, "you don't...?" you squish his cheeks and press your noses together, "of course i don't, in fact i love you a lot, princess." mingi doesn't reply and only giggles as he gets sleepier.

atiny2: HIS CHEEKS ARE RED IM DEADDDD

atiny127: im convinced the entirety of ateez is just m/n's harem😭

atiny69: mans melting😮‍💨

atiny1117: [image]

clip 2 — MOMMY MN🥵🥵

you sighed as you came back into view of the camera in your black tank top, muscular arms proudly flexing with each move you made. it was true when atinys said that your face doesn't match your body.

atiny69: MOMMY OMFG

atiny1: [image]

atiny127: HIS ARMS???A;S,C;V/LEAV(*)??/😳

you giggled at the comments, "you guys think i'm a mother...?" scratching your head, you pick up a hairtie from behind the camera and tied your hair into a high bun, and went back to the dead members on the ground.

san smirked as he saw you walk near him, "yahhhh, noona's so pre-pretty...!" he spoke loudly between hiccups as his grin only widened. "keep quiet, san. it's late already." the male jutted out his bottom lip before mumbling a quiet 'sorry'.

atiny666: he only listens to mother🤞🏻

atiny3: hes jus like me😋

you coo before kissing the male's cheek as he giggled and pressed his hand against the spot you kissed, staring at you like a high school girl would to their senior crush. you wrap san's arms around your neck as your right arm goes under his thighs while your left supports his back.

atiny1: WAIT IS HE GONAA-

atiny1117: HE CAN PICK SAN UP???

atiny2: AHHH MOMMY😩😩😩

in your squatted position, you huffed a few times before successfully carrying san upwards as he giggled and nuzzled into your neck, making you stumble slightly before pecking his forehead.

you turn to the camera, "i'll tuck him in first, be right back!" you quietly jog into san and wooyoung's shared room as you plop the male onto his bed and tuck him in.

atiny1: NUUUU I WANNA SEE THO😭

atiny127: u so thirsty for what😐

atiny3: REAL cuz he can carry the entirety of ateez

atiny69: HE ALSO CARRIES THE INDUSTRY🕺🏻🕺🏻

atiny1117: WE ONLY SPIT FAX AHHHH😍🤞🏻

atiny2: [image]

san whined and made grabby hands towards yo, "nuuu! noona sleep w-with me tonight,,, pleaseee!" he did the best puppy eyes he could and you hesitated for a moment before smacking his forehead, "don't be dumb, san. i won't sleep with you when you smell like alcohol."

san's expression resembled that of a kicked puppy as you felt your heart clench, regretting your words immediately. "oh, san that's not what i-" before you could finish, san throws up.

in bed, onto his sheets and his shirt. you mumble a string of curses as he falls right back to sleep. you weren't gonna get any sleep tonight, you were sure.

clip 3 — mother at work!!🫶🏻

when you came back in view after like 10 minutes, you were drenched in sweat and panting hard. you said nothing as you glanced to the camera before taking out a bottle of wine from the fridge.

atiny2: ???😭

atiny666: mother is tired🤕🤞🏻

atiny1: i wonder what happened :(

sitting down you pop open the cork and pour a large amount into the glass that stood right in front of the camera. sighing you took a large gulp of half of the glass before groaning, setting it aside.

you coughed, "okay, so san threw up just now and i had to move him to wooyoung's bed and clean up his shirt and sheets," you covered your face, "it was so damn gross, oh my god..."

atiny3: LMFAOOO😭

atiny69: ITS ALWAYS SAN☠️

atiny1117: god bless mother☹️🙏🏻

atiny127: doing gods work fr

you laughed the tiredness off, "yeah, it's always san and wooyoung actually. but i think it's really special, they mean a lot to each other." you took a sit from the glass and swirl the liquid around.

your attention was turned back to the rest of the drunken members when you heard wooyoung groan and whine on the ground. "so cold..." he rolls on his side and hugs his forearms.

atiny2: SO CUTE🥺

atiny143: IM BACK😗

atiny666: ☹️☹️☹️

atiny1117: [image]

walking over, you squat down and hug wooyoung against your chest as his lips curl into a smile and cracks his eyes open, "noona...!" he buries his head in the crook of your neck and wraps his arms around your middle.

"missed 'chu...." he hiccupped as you exhaled from your nose, stroking his hair softly as he hums in satisfaction. "let's get you to bed, young-ah." he nuzzles his face further into your neck in response.

atiny143: OH MY GOD

atiny2: im dead yall🪦

atiny127: I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE

atiny666: [image]

picking his up bridal style, you toss wooyoung upwards a few times as he giggles and kisses your face nonstop. "young-ah, stop- i can't see," you stumble backwards a bit as he nuzzles his cheek with yours, giggling like a maniac. "i'm gonna fall-"

just like you said, you fell. with wooyoung still in your arms, you twisted forward on instinct and slipped again. before you landed, your arm instinctively came up and wrapped it around wooyoung's head.

you landed on your side as wooyoung knocked himself out. you sat up with your hair flying in all directions and forearms slightly bruised at the impact. you looks straight into the camera but not saying a thing.

atiny1117: DID THE CLIPPERS GET THAT????

atiny127: m/n shielding wooyoungs head🥹

atiny1: IS WOOYOUNG SLEPING😭

atiny69: M/N RISKING HIS LIFE JUST FOR WOOYOUNG TO FALL BACK ASLEEP LMFAOAOAO

atiny143: is he drooling??☠️

you turn to look at wooyoung, who had drool seeping from the corner of his mouth as he snored softly. you covered your mouth and snorted before picking him up again, "okay, i'm really gonna tuck him in now."

atinys bid you goodbye for the second time as you walked out of view towards his and san's shared room. you sweatdropped internally as you realise they might be uncomfortable at the small space.

sighing, you place wooyoung down next to a knocked-out san before tucking the two in. you felt your heart swell as you watch the two instinctively curl into their usual position; wooyoung tucked under san's chin as the other had his arms wrapped around wooyoung's head.

you giggled and took your phone out, snapping a quick picture, you peck both of their foreheads and turn off the dimly lit table lamp before closing the door quietly as to not disturb their slumber.

clip 4 — late night drinks with the mothers🫡

sighing, you pour more wine into your glass while massaging your temple with the other hand.

atiny1117: nuuu stop drinking mamas☹️

atiny69: stay healthy :(

atiny1: stay strong babes!!

atiny666: i just came back from twitter and i cannot begin to explain how ridiculous it is that m/n gets so much backlash for standing up for his members

atiny127: REAL i saw so many articles on it like leave them alone wtf🫠

you smiled gently as you read the comments, "yeah, i've seen all those articles and honestly i don't care." you take another sip of your wine, "i expected something like this to happen way back. and if this is what'll happen to me for protecting my members i'll take it."

as you swirl the glass, you saw from the phone that seonghwa had emerged from his slumber behind you. turning around, you snap your finger to catch his attention. "m/n? why aren't you in bed- is that wine!?" the elder quickly snatches the glass from your hand.

atiny2: NOOO LET HIM DRINK😡😡

atiny666: honestly why are they both up at ass oclock??

you roll your eyes and lean onto the table, "c'mon hyung, i'm not 17 anymore. i can drink if i want to." seonghwa looks into the glass, "it's been 5 years already... i still remember when we were just trainees." the two laughs before you offer another seat for the male.

taking out another glass, you pour into it before clanking the glass with the one in seonghwa's hand, "cheers to us." seonghwa sighed before smiling gently, "cheers to us."

atiny69: THE MOTHERS ARE TOGETHER OMG😩😩

atiny1: hwa looks so handsome here🥺

atiny666: its been so long :(

atiny143: im actually a new atiny and i wanna ask if m/n has trained in other companies before?

skimming through the question, you smiled at the memory of your past. "yes, i was a trainee in yuehua." seonghwa's eyes widen as he swallows the wine, "wait, really? you've never talked about that before." you squeeze his cheek, "yes i have. you just weren't paying attention, hyung."

"anyways, i don't know how i joined but i was really confident in my singing and vocals so i thought it'd be fun to try it out and see if i could get some critiques. who knew i actually passed the audition?" you laughed and smacked seonghwa's arm jokingly.

"i was a trainee there since i was 16, but afterwards i became a vocal trainer there and trained a lot of younger trainees' vocals." seonghwa made an 'o' with his lips, "woah, that's so cool!"

atiny1: wait, does that mean you know the members of zb1???

atiny666: SLAYYY KING

atiny143: i heard yuehua is so strict i cant believe u even became a trainer oml😭😭😭

you perked up, "yes! i actually do know them- well, not all of them. i'm specifically closer to ricky and zhang hao since i was their trainer for like a few months." seonghwa stood up and grabbed the wine bottle before pouring more into the two glasses.

"i actually did congratulate them on their win! i was so proud when i heard that they successfully debuted, i'm so proud!" you put a hand on your chest as you remember jumping on your bed while the two were on call with you telling you nice things.

atiny1: KING SHIT🕺🏻

atiny666: hes so caring to others too🥹

atiny69: ilysm m/n!!!

atiny143: when did u join kq tho?

you perked up, "ah, i was actually jongho's senior since high school so when he got in he told me about it obviously." you smiled at the memory, "it was when i was a vocal trainer at yuehwa then so he told me to go join him and so i did." you look over to seonghwa and grinned happily, "and i'm so grateful i did."

atiny2: HE CARRIED THE INDUSTRY!!!

atiny127: hes literally carrying 5th gen

atiny1117: MY KING SO TALENTED ILYSM :(

you leaned on seonghwa's shoulder as you felt your heart swell at all the nice comments. so many years of hardwork and you were finally getting the credit you deserved. "yeah i agree with our atinys,"

you tilt your head up as seonghwa smiles fondly at you, "i think you're amazing and just so, so talented." seonghwa's smile falters as he sees your expression remain unchanging, "d-did i say something wrong...?"

atiny1117: is bae ok...?

atiny1: is he getting emotional?

atiny69: M/N BAE☹️☹️☹️

seonghwa's eyes go wide upon seeing tears forming in your eyes, sclera turning red as you inhaled shaky breaths, "...really?" seonghwa blinks, "huh?" you sniffle before taking a sip from your glass, "do you really think i'm amazing?"

seonghwa didn't even notice he was holding his breath as his eyes soften and he pinches your cheek, "of course! you're amazing," you smile gently, "you work so hard all the time and you deserve the world, love."

you blink back a few tears as seonghwa pulls you in for a heartwarming hug, kissing your head and whispering words of praises in your ear.

atiny666: IM SOBBING SO HARD RN

atiny2: [image]

atiny143: WAAAAAAAA🥹

clip 5 — dinner for breakfast😵🔥

you groaned as you finish sweeping the floors finally. throwing yourself back on the chair, you whine at the hardness as seonghwa softly snored on the couch. you smiled before tossing the entire wine bottle down your throat, finishing it with a rumbly groan.

atiny127: HELP HE JUST TOSSED THAT SHIT😮‍💨

atiny2: is he ok🤕

atiny666: [image]

atiny1117: does he suck dick like that

atiny1: WHAT SID YOU SAY😭😭😭

glancing at the screen, you notice the view rising little by little as you turn to check the clock. damn, one in the morning? you rub your tired eyes as you got up and threw the wine bottle away, taking a pan out of the cabinet.

you said nothing as you poured some oil over the pan, moving the pan in a circular motion for the oil to spread. afterwards, you take out whatever leftovers you had from the fridge and threw the random foods into the pan, adding a few spices here and there.

as you tossed the pan up and down, hongjoong emerged from his room and did a small stretch before sitting down on the chair, blinking in surprise at the screen before him before waving to the camera. "heyyy, why're you guys up at one??"

atiny2: waiting for u beautiful😫

atiny2018: IM HERE WHERE IS HONG😍

atiny1117: barefaced joong🥹🫶🏻

atiny666: whyre U up at 1!?🤨

you crane your neck backwards to see a sleepy hongjoong waddle towards you. "hyung, if you're sleepy you can go back to bed. i'll leave some food for you." hongjoong only hums as he rests his chin on your shoulder, barely able to reach your height.

seonghwa giggles in the corner. the tiny leader blinks, "why're we eating yesterday's dinner for breakfast?" you shrug, "i dunno, it's all we have." hongjoong groans before throwing his tired self onto seonghwa, who had just finished setting up the plates.

atiny69: MATZ🥹🥹🥹

atiny1: i can never get enough of them

atiny1117: which one?🤭

atiny1: GIRL ALL OF THEM😫

from the screen, the atinys could see the smoke coming from the hot pan. as you finish frying the noodles, you shove it near the camera for them to see your handiwork. "see, aren't i such a good cook?"

hongjoong groans, "can you shut up and bring it over already? i'm starving." seonghwa and you snort, "i think somebody's in a mood today." hongjoong turns to glare at the older, "am not." "are too." "am not!" "are too!"

you blink as you take a seat in-between the two, hoping to stop their childish fighting, but of course they don't. they just repeat the same phrase as you scoop up some of the noodles and place it in your bowl. although you had this last night, you were still ready to devour it whole.

atiny666: LMAOOO M/N SITTING THERE LIKE😭😭

atiny2018: i stan my unbothered king🫶🏻

atiny143: left ear: am not, right ear: are too☠️☠️

atiny1117: m/n is such a mood honestly😍

atiny127: REAL our king deserves more dicks

atiny2: whats with you and dicks???

atiny127: im a proud atiny!!!!

atiny69: you mean youre gay?

atiny1117: we are lgbtq😈🔥🔥🔥

hongjoong interups seonghwa with a loud gasp as half of the noodles vanish, resting securely inside your stomach. "what the hell! you just eat half of the pan, are you kidding me??" you bit back a laugh as you her hongjoong's stomach growled. seonghwa only ignored him and puts noodles in his own bowl.

hongjoong groans and rolls his eyes before filling his own bowl with the rest of the food. your cheeks puffed up at the amount of food that filled into your cheeks, you only closed your eyes and hummed at the warm feeling invading your tummy.

clip 6 — jjong's m/n🥹

you set the phone on the desk of your bedroom, taking a few steps back to sit on the edge of your bed. you open the curtains to see the sky still pitch-black as you stared at the still bustling streets.

atiny1: HES SO SHDNSH😍

atiny69: side profile🤭

atiny143: CLIPPERS GET THAT🥹

suddenly jongho enters after a knock on your door. "yes?" you stop breathing when you see tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. "hey jjong, c'mere what's going on?" he rubbed his eyes and sat next to you, not noticing the camera and your eyes dart from the camera to him continuously, hesitating on if you should tell him or not.

atiny3: NOOO HES SAD

atiny2018: JJONG☹️☹️☹️

atiny127: WAAAAAA M/N TAKE CARE PLS😔

as he sat down, he looked at you once and then burst out crying onto your shoulder. you deadpanned to the camera and the atinys could feel your panic right then. "hey, hey- jjong look at me first." you cup his cheeks and tilt his face up, heart clenching at the sight of dried tears on his cheeks. you ran your fingers across his cheeks gently, lulling to a sleepy state.

"can you tell me what's going on bub?" jongho sniffled and pulled you in for another hug, this one tighter than the last. "i-i had a nightmare..." his voice got progressively softer as he finished his sentence, embarrassed at the fact a mere nightmare affected him so badly.

atiny2: guys i think he got a nightmare🤓

atiny69: SOBBING ON THE FUCKIGN GROUND

atiny1117: im gonna kms

atiny1: WAAAAA MAMA M/N☹️

you sighed before patting his head, you could read the boy like a book and you knew how embarrassing it is for him whenever he had nightmares. "there's nothing wrong with having nightmares jjong." he shook his head, "no! i feel bad,,, why am i having these dreams when everyone's treating me so nicely?"

he pulled away and frowned, "it feels like i hate them or something...!" you brush his hair back, "but you don't. these things happen and we shouldn't dwell on them." he looks down, "what did you even dream about?"

he blinks continuously as he tried to avert from your burning gaze, "i... it was about you and the members," you held his trembling hands as he spoke, "the members were telling me how i was holding them back and that i'm," he sniffled, "that i'm a disappointment. and hongjoong-hyung laughed and told me i'm not as good as i think i am..."

you didn't say anything, you only caressed the back of his palm, trying to soothe him. "and you... you told me you hated me and that you didn't want me anymore!" once again, jongho began to sob as you pulled him back your chest. "jjong..." you rest your chin on top of his head, "you know i love you a lot right?"

you felt him nod into you chest, "i'll never leave, even if you wanted me to." he smiled before bursting out crying.

atiny1: UR THE MAN M/N😭

atiny1117: THE CLIPPERS BETTER HAVE GOTTEN THAT OUHHH😭☹️

atiny143: [image]

atiny666: 🫂

suddenly, yeosang burst into the bedroom and you and jongho both turn to look at him, "i heard jongho's crying, are you okay?" jongho furrows his eyebrows, "how did you know i was crying?" you began to sweat as you gestured for yeosang to shut the fuck up, but the clueless will stay clueless. "it's on live."

upon hearing that, jongho shoved you onto the bed and scavenged the room for any hints of a camera. after a minute or two, jongho stares straight into the camera and take it out from behind the lamp. he glares at you for a moment before looking back into the camera, "the live's over, have a good day atinys."

the live has ended!

©BRRRKDSLEK 2023

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hendolish · 1 year ago

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England NT Fic Recs ♡

never know where to start for a pairing or you're new to england nt rpf? here's a shameless collection of my favourite fics to give you a head start 🫶🏻 ———

Jack Grealish/Jordan Henderson

melt by inlovewithnight (8k)

soulmate au where you feel everything your soulmate does and can't bear being too far away from each other. they're just so at ease and in love with each other in this. probably my favourite hendolish fic! <3

About as subtle as an earthquake, I know by Lizz_88 (Bluejay00) (68k)

jack's a stripper, jordan's himself. so much more than what it says on the tin! all the characters are super complex and it takes a lot of work for these two to get together (with no shortage of lap dances and smut along the way) <3

Calm Before The Storm by preachingdoll (6k)

post-euro 2020 heartbreak jack needs a bit of help coping. jordan's there to offer a helping hand... the smut and dirty talk is 10/10

best worst behaviour by Bellelaide (25k)

kind of a hendolish classic, jordan puts bratty jack in his place.

♡

John Stones/Jordan Pickford

Sun City AU by Bellelaide (series, 40k)

honestly one of my favourite fics ever, let alone footie-wise. jordan's on a very british all-inclusive holiday at a hotel where john works. the vibes are just immaculate, you can visualise everything so clearly and there's so much depth to their characters!

Ice Melts by Bellelaide (7k)

enemies to lovers kinda? john doesn't think much of jordan before the 2018 wc but the further they get in the tournament, the closer they become. amazing characterisation and banter as always.

Helping Hand by slatkomore (14k)

with john's career ended abruptly by an injury, he turns to coaching instead and soon becomes the england u19s manager where he meets the goalkeeper coach, jordan pickford...

your world cup or mine? by Bellelaide (15k)

john goes to sleep at the 2022 wc and wakes up back in 2018 where he and jordan aren't together and barely friends. such an interesting concept and dynamic!

♡

Jack Grealish/John Stones

The Things We Did and Didn't Do by InTheFicOfIt (series, 104k)

john and jack sleep together in the aftermath of the euros, the following fic explores everything that comes after, including jack moving to man city and their friends finding out. i'm never usually tempted by this pairing but this fic is so damn good! it's written so wonderfully and there's so much of it- i couldn't put it down!

♡

Ben white/Aaron Ramsdale

happy together by foxholecourts (1k)

this fic perfectly encapsulates their vibe for me. the back and forth between the two of them is just delightful and exactly how i imagine them to be together, but it's also as equally sappy! i love these two idiots sm <3

watching you watching me by foxholecourts (2k)

ben likes to be watched... 10/10 benaaron characterisation from this author as always.

sweettalker by Anonymous (5k)

smut with a lot of dirty talk about the other arsenal lads. ben is very complex in this- an interesting take on their relationship!

I’m Not In Love by ceraunophilex (1k)

aaron falls in love immediately, ben slowly warms to him. short and sweet.

♡

Jordan Henderson/Trent Alexander-Arnold

Shake Me Into the Night by orphan_account (17k)

always hits me right in the feels. based around liverpool winning the champions league, the writing is so detailed and amazing!!

♡

Jude Bellingham/Reece James

the sun and the rainfall by ohsusie (series, 6k)

jude asks reece about some of the rumours surrounding him to help him broach a sensitive topic of his own. reece gives him some guidence. they're so sweet in this!

♡

Dele Alli/Eric Dier

In This World Of Ours by dierdele (53k)

the classic deledier best friends to lovers 2018 world cup get-together fic. you can't beat it, literally so cute oml.

♡

Marcus Rashford/Jesse Lingard

both your hands in the holes of my sweater by yvenger (jjjat3am) (3k)

this one is so much fun hehe, the ~2018 man u squad if they were a sunday league team where jesse's very confident and marcus has a huge crush on him. love the inner dialogue so, so much. ending is super cute!!

i can feel that body shake by princessrosberg (3k)

an england nt night out leads to them getting together and their first time! jesse and marcus characterisations are on point, esp the way they talk to each other <3

♡

Harry Kane/Gareth Southgate

All Good Things... by orphan_account (12k)

their established relationship is so cute in this! post-2018 wc and preparing for the euros, england team banter is perfect.

wished by orphan_account (23k)

gareth is harry's p.e teacher at school. listen… no comment... there's a reason it's the most kudos-ed southkane fic

♡

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mitsuki-komori · 2 months ago

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So I started ranting in the middle of writing a fic 😭

The car ride was warm. Like really really warm. Like, super cozy and stuff. Like it’s totes insane how sweet this scene is. It’s like, super cool and romantic and stuff. I want to be done with this fic already, man. 😭

Blah blah blah. Word count shit and stuff and things. I kinda wanted this done before the end of May, but real shit I don’t know if I can. This shit is fucking taxing, bro. And I don’t have any assignments to do. Just straight up being lazy here. Writer’s block is a total bitch and it’s been creeping back up on me. I’ll cry. I’ve been on a roll for the last several months and have been dreading when I’d be taken back over by the infamous writer’s block that plagues authors so. Absolutely heartbreaking.

Legit boutta cry, lil bros

Okay, this was supposed to just sound comedic, but rereading it sounds straight up like I’m depressed or smth

Don’t worry, my guys. I’m good.

Auaushjswowowj.

Bro, this fic is only like halfway done too. I could cut out the other shit I planned, but that is simply something I would be unable to bring myself to do as I’ve already committed to what I’ve planned

Oml, and I have to do chapter three of Three of Diamonds too. UGH

I literally told my friend I’d get that done soon and I ain’t even started. I also need to do chapter three of Under The Crimson Moon, Nightshades Bloom AND My Undead Love.

Literally why do I do this to myself?

Also I need to do chapter 4 of Chocobo’s Haven. I’ve been trying to pretend it doesn’t exist, but I fr need to do that shit soon.

Maybe I should hiatus it?

Oh, it’d just break my heart though. I’ve already hiatus’d that Astaleo vampire fic and have so many other projects to do. If I put it on hiatus, I’d probably just take advantage of that and start a new project.

You know, I literally have a whole mafia au fic planned out for Sengen.

The notes are like 10k+ words and I estimate it’ll be around 28 chapters with 100k+ words. It’s so tempting, man.

But there’s also this fantasy au AND a Harry Potter AU I wanna write with Dr. Stone and have notes written for both. I legit cannot control my temptations, it’s insane.

How come I have no trouble writing all this shit down in the middle of a fic but can’t bare actually continuing.

Super annoying.

Like, the sooner I get this shit done, the sooner I can do other shit.

I’ve already decided to make that Frankenstein AU fic shorter than I planned just for the sake of getting it done quickly.

And I don’t even have a CLUE as for how long Three of Diamonds will take.

I guess I’d want it to be at least 50k if I had to guess? There’s a lot of scenes and fluff I wanna write and I need to set up a proper rhythm and pace for that.

Spacing it out properly will mean writing more things to put in between the stuff I really want to write.

Ah, the trouble of an author.

Like, fics for me typically get made because there’s a super specific scene I wanna write, but they’d only make sense and leave the impact I want if I write a whole ass plot to put it into. Ugh.

Like, the fantasy fic. Literally made up a whole plot because I thought Gen would look hot as a mage.

It was the freaking transformation in Final Fantasy X-2, man.

Sometimes I write fics just to get a particular vibe, so I throw incoherent ideas together to try conveying it.

Spoiler: it almost never works.

Like, I had this 1980s fic I wanna write because listening to the music and the aesthetic inspired me, but I had no clue what to stuff into it to make it, so I haven’t actually started it. Also I wasn’t alive during the 1980s.

In my ideas document, I have a whole separate section for “incoherent ideas” where I just hope I get enough of those that I can slap some together into an actual fic with an actually interesting plot.

I get inspired by stupid shit, the most simple stuff. I don’t appreciate it much.

Like, I love the brainstorming, but I get so many ideas that my mind goes all over the place and suddenly there’s a shit ton of fics I wanna write, but I can only do one at a time.

And when I do try to do multiple ones, my brain gets even more cloudy and writer’s block hits you in the face.

My big three fics rn are Three of Diamonds, Under The Crimson Moon arranged marriage fic, and My Undead Love.

And instead of fixating on my in progress works, my mind is instead obsessing over the fic ideas I haven’t started like the fantasy AU especially and it also keeps flowing back to the mafia au and the Harry Potter AU.

Like, I got a whole ass detailed plot for the mafia one.

I have ARCS planned and shit and super exciting scenes, but I know since it’s so long and I have other works, I really shouldn’t.

Even after I finish the My Undead Love fic, I shouldn’t start another one.

Because sooner or later I’ll have to get back to the FFXV fix I’ve been ignoring. Oh, but my other fics are so tempting.

But I suppose it probably wouldn’t be the fantasy one because that one is more in the incoherent ideas being slapped together phase while the mafia one is one I couldn’t probably jump right into.

It was heavily inspired by Snakes At Midnight. Could not stop thinking about it and accidentally made a whole plot.

Like, bro. That fic was SO good.

I literally could not put it down. I read that shit in class and I was so impressed with how amazing it was.

And I’d literally never cried because of a fic, but that? Bro, I actually cried real tears.

You should totally read it.

My Harry Potter AU is also just a bunch of random ideas for now too.

The mafia one would probably be the one I’d start on next, but it’s also seeming like probably the longest fic I’ll ever write as of now, so I don’t know if I should risk it.

Like, I feel I’d need to finish at least two of my current long fics before starting on it.

Probably My Undead Love and Under The Crimson Moon, Nightshades Bloom.

My Undead Love is going to be shorter than all the other ones and the Crimson Moon one is one I actually have planned out.

Three of Diamonds is just a complete mystery to me rn.

And Chocobo’s Haven is going to be like 30 chapters.

The Crimson Moon one is only going to be 20.

Ugh.

Why this shit gotta be so hard?

This is why I decided I wouldn’t be an author when I become an adult. It’s much better to keep as a hobby for this exact reason.

I mean, I could write some books, but it definitely shouldn’t be my main job.

It’s much more of a “hit or miss” kind of career and I simply don’t have the luck or patience for that.

My luck freaking sucks.

I’ve lost so many 50/50s in Genshin it’s not even funny. I’m probably gonna lose my Kinich on the next banner and I’ll probably lose to Ayaka or Ayato on the chronicle banner too.

Literally I’d rather lose to anyone else on that banner than them.

And I should get back to my Black Clovwr fics at some point too.

I do have some genuinely interesting Black Clover fic ideas sitting in my ideas document, but with all the other stuff I gotta do, it’ll probably be a while.

This was such a sudden change, too. I was such a oneshot girlie, then all the sudden I’m writing long fics?

Crazy shit, I tell you.

I also can’t commit to shit, but I also REFUSE to abandon any of my fics.

You so hear me, I WILL finish every work in progress of mine! Even if they may or may not take years to do.

Pls believe me.

Fics and the fanbases I’m apart of is actually the only thing I think about every hour of every day.

When I first wake up, when I play games, watch shows, when I’m in conversations, when I’m in classes. Somehow I get good grades.

Every interaction I’m in, my mind converts it into a little fic in my head where my favorite characters are playing out my scenarios. Like, I may or may not have an addiction to this?

When I watch shows too, my mind imagines the characters in the show as whichever fanbase I’m thinking of.

I’ve seen some drama at school and have written down fic ideas based on them. I don’t think that’s too weird though. I hear other authors do it too.

I mean, obviously not the super serious stuff and uncomfortable things, but still.

And every song I listen to also.

I could be in a bad mood and thinking of fics will instantly cheer me up.

When someone asks about my hobbies, I never know what to say. Because the honest answers are: the source media of what I read and write about (anime, games, etc.), reading, and writing.

But not in an unhealthy way, it really is fun. Just takes a lot of brain power sometimes.

I guess I do make edits sometimes?

That’s probably the only reason I still have TikTok downloaded on my phone. I waste too much time on that app. I only have it to post my edits because they’re more likely to get views there than the ones I post on YouTube.

Did you guys know I used to be a gachatuber? Yeah, super embarrassing.

Don’t look for it btw.

I stopped doing it like 2-3 years ago. It was pretty fun to make them though.

Even when they made no sense.

The moment I got introduced to gacha, I was sentenced to the fanfiction addiction 😭

That’s probably where a lot of the younger fanfic authors stem from. I was introduced to gacha because of an Itsfunneh glmv, bro.

Super nostalgic.

I loved watching Itsfunneh. She’s a YouTuber. I’ve been watching her for around 9 years now, I believe?

I went a while where I stopped watching her, but I come back to her channel every now and then.

I suppose I should get back to writing the fic I started writing the rant in the middle of, huh?

Hopefully I shall be able to finish it in a timely enough manner.

#Author #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #Dr. STONE #Black Clover #FFXV #Ranting

0 notes

moon-reblogs · 1 year ago

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STOPPPPP THIS SERIES WAS SO GOOD- the way loneliness was described was actually so beautiful n heartbreaking it had me sobbing oml IT HAD SUCH A NICE PROGRESSION AND ENDING TOO 😭

PLZ CONTINUE WRITING THESE AUS, U DO IT SO WELL ❤️❤️❤️

if you’ll have me (i) | c.yj

here’s (finally) the first part of the monster yeonjun fic I wrote in august, right in time for his birthday! happy birthday to the terrible wonderful human being who has given me the worst brainrot I’ve experienced in a while (second only to the rot brought on by one kang taehyun), and I hope you all enjoy this <3

Pairing: Yeonjun x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, regency era!au, nobility!au

Warnings: mentions of past death, mentions of period-typical misogyny

Word Count: 11.3k

Yeonjun Choi, Duke of Hastings, is in want of a wife. Boxed in from all directions by the overbearing mamas of the ton, he begins his arduous search this season for not fortune, not love, but merely the perfect woman to succeed his mother��s place. None of the daughters of high society manage to catch his eye, however, or fit his overwhelming list of standards—at least until he meets Miss Y/N L/N, the queen’s diamond of the season, newly arrived in town from abroad and said to be one of the most accomplished women to grace the ton in a generation.

You, the eldest daughter and only child of the L/N family, just want stability. With your father dead and the estate passed to a cousin, leaving only your dowry and a small pittance from the inheritance left intact, you begin your search for a husband with money enough to keep you and your mother afloat. It seems like a miracle when, after being crowned the queen’s diamond, the Duke of Hastings himself asks for your hand—but as you learn of his complete indifference to the concept of love, you begin to doubt yourself. Perhaps money is not enough to keep your hand—maybe you desired a true love match more than you thought.

Trapped in a marriage of convenience that everyone believes is a love story, you and Yeonjun find yourselves forced to reevaluate what you want out of this match. Between balls and promenades, dances and poetry, you begin to view each other beyond the pithy conversations allowed in the courting stages, learning to see one another not just as business partners, but perhaps friends as well. And as you begin to reconcile your needs and wants, your goals and desires, maybe, just maybe—

The ton’s belief that you are a love match can find some truth, too.

Part 1 >> Part 2

TXT Masterlist

The minute Yeonjun enters the club, he makes a beeline for the corner where Soobin is sitting, two small glasses set on the table in front of him. He flops into a chair and downs one of them immediately. “I am so sick of debutante season.”

Soobin raises an eyebrow. “The season hasn’t even started,” he points out.

“Exactly,” Yeonjun groans. “If it’s this bad even before they’ve been presented to the queen, how much worse will it get when all the balls and courtships start?”

“It’s kind of your fault,” Soobin says, picking up the other glass. “Maybe you shouldn’t have announced your intention to find a wife so early on.”

“I didn’t mention it,” Yeonjun hisses. “That rat bastard Wooyoung let it out before I was ready to say it publicly—”

“That’s on you for letting Wooyoung hear you,” Soobin interjects calmly. And Yeonjun can’t even argue with that—he loves Wooyoung, loves his friend dearly, but Wooyoung’s loose tongue is arguably his worst trait—so all he does is slump back into his chair and raise a finger for another drink. “You’re supposed to be comforting me,” he sulks. “Some best friend you are.”

“Well, I’ve made my opinions about your ways of getting a wife very clear, and you’ve elected to ignore every single one of them.” Soobin smiles. “Some best friend you are.”

“What’s wrong with a list?” Yeonjun frowns, crossing his arms. “Every man—no, every person—has to have ideas about who their future partner might be, I’ve just written it out.”

“It’s not the list that’s the problem. Though I’m pretty sure not a lot of people would actually write a list, either.” Soobin finishes the rest of his drink just as Yeonjun’s second one comes. “It’s your requirements for the people on that list that is the issue.”

“What’s wrong with my requirements?”

“They’re so demanding.” Soobin places his empty glass down with a loud clack. “How many people, men and women of all ages included, do you think are actually fluent in all those languages you require? All those instruments? All that dancing? Impeccable decorum too, and on top of that, to have a proper, pretty visage of some sort—”

“That’s not even a requirement,” Yeonjun argues. “My main goal is to try and find someone with a sound and clever mind to help me run the estate since my mother wants to retire to the country—”

“And that’s well and fine, Yeonjun.” Soobin sighs. “My point is, your requirements are so stringent as to alienate every lady in this society from the prospect of marrying you.”

“Soobin, I hate to sound egotistic—” Soobin snorts, which Yeonjun staunchly ignores— “but they’re literally leaping for my hand.”

Keep reading

#txt #yeonjun

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dominaecaede · 7 years ago

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I finally drew something for @garbageisland-0's out of reach au ; v ;

#this au is heartbreaking oml #and y'all that I was awful #also the artist themselves gave me an inspiration boost so yeyyyyyy #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #Deku #nomu!deku au #out of reach #garbageisland-0 #angst #bnha #mha #my art

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seungstarss · 3 years ago

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── CUPID’S LAW ♡ A HYUNG LINE SERIES

Cupid's law explores the stories of four consultants of the Cupid club — a matchmaking club known for sucessfully bringing couples together. The club only runs on of four simple rules, which both consultants and clients need to abide by.

— In a world where all stories are intertwined, each narrative explores one rule that has been broken.

𔓕 CUPID'S LAW 01 ♡ NEVER FALL IN LOVE

— Cupid’s law one: "It's as simple as it sounds, never fall in love... never."

PAIRING: play boy! Heeseung x consultant! Fem! Reader

SYNOPSIS › After a bland highschool experience, you immediately gravitate to your university’s most outrageous matchmaking club, “The Cupid Club.” Your job was simple: to collect information on your client’s love interest and then pair them together. After two years on your “job,” everything became less horrific and getting couples together almost seemed like a natural occurrence. That is until you’re tasked to collect information on Lee Heeseung, the infamous rugby captain who is coincidently known as the biggest player on campus.

GENRE› college au, angst, consultant! reader x rugby captain! Heeseung, heartbreak, crack, fluff, stranger to lovers.

WORD COUNT 18.4k

READ HERE

𔓕 CUPID'S LAW 02 ♡ MAINTAIN PROFESSIONALISM

— Cupid’s law two: "Keep your feelings aside and maintain professionalism...It's not that hard."

PAIRING. ex-client! Jay x consultant! Fem! Reader.

SYNOPSIS. After three years, you come face to face with a consultant's worst nightmare. Your former client seems to blame you for his failed relationship, and you don't know where it all went wrong. Love doesn't last forever, but if you had faith in anyone, it was Park Jongseong and his former girlfriend. Feeling a sense of remorse, you have no choice but to help your former client figure out what went wrong.

GENRE. college au, self-discovery, angst, Jay beats himself down a lot :( , fluff, healing, establishing trust, learning all forms of love.

ESTIMATED WC: 12K(?)

READ HERE

𔓕 CUPID’S LAW 03 ♡ DON'T LEAK CLIENT INFORMATION

— Cupid’s law three: "Your client trusts you with their most vulnerable feelings. Don't you ever betray that trust."

PAIRING. Younger brother's best friend! Jake x consultant! Fem! Reader.

SYNOPSIS. Due to unforeseen circumstances, you confide in your brother's best friend, whom you entrust with client information. However, after you are abruptly stripped of your position, you are left wondering what went wrong. When all signs point to Jake as the catalyst, you confront the boy who can't seem to meet your eyes.

GENRE. brother's best friend trope, college au, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst if you squint, reader is Sunghoon’s older sister, crack

ESTIMATED WC: 10K(?)

READ HERE

𔓕 CUPID’S LAW 04 ♡ DO NO HARM

— Cupid’s law four: "Don't intentionally hurt anyone physically or mentally. It's self-explanatory, isn't it?"

PAIRING. ex-boyfriend! Sunghoon x consultant! Fem! Reader

SYNOPSIS. On the first day of being a consultant on your university's infamous "Cupid Club," you meet the ill fate of running into your ex-boyfriend, better known as Park Sunghoon — your highschool sweetheart, your first love — who dumped you with no reason whatsoever. Now you have no choice but to relive the lowest moments of your life, as Park Sunghoon can't seem to leave you alone.

GENRE. college au, exes to (?), heartbreak, angst, Sunghoon's is a jerk tbh, playboy! Sunghoon, lot's of crying and inner monologues.

ESTIMATED WC: 15K(?)

READ HERE

a/n: hi oml! I have made the decision to make this into a series so i really do hope you all enjoy hehe ♡ installmemts will come come randomly, not specifically in this order! please be patient with me. (Sunghoon’s installment will probably come first!)

— TAGLIST OPEN ♡ send an ask or reply. Perm taglist added already

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the-type-a · 2 years ago

Note

Rock Band AU

Courtney is the main vocalist & occasionally plays the guitar, Duncan is the lead guitarist, Gwen on drums & idk who else could be involved bcuz this is just an idea I’ve been throwing around in my head

-Duncney were together before the band was formed and stayed together till they reached stardom BUT they eventually break up due to many reasons (omg) and they decide to stay “cordial” for the band(which took a lot of convincing from the other members)

-Duncan wanted to live the “true rockstar lifestyle” and in his mind he couldn’t do that in a relationship because he’s dumb

-Courtney of course lets the fame get to her and becomes a bit controlling of the band

-Courtney writing diss songs about Duncan while he just has to stfu and perform them with her(tensions rise)

-all the members partake in substance abuse because well, it’s a rock band au and it adds to the drama lmao so Duncan livin’ like a rock star, Courtney does it to deal with the stress but will deny it profusely, and the other members need it just to deal with both of them and their drama

-so Duncan’s an asshole and the substances don’t help but just imagine.. Courtney in the green room fighting GROUPIES out of jealousy, oh the press has a field day because of “inside sources” leaking pics and vids 👀

-Of course any time there’s negative media about Courtney, Duncan goes wild on twitter(unless he’s mad at her) and his PR Team has to take his phone away.. he very much fights his own fans lol

-ofc there’s Gw*ncan shippers because drama & that adds even more tension between the members, Courtney’s insecure & gwen’s like “man I just wanna play the drums STOP”

-Ok but like also Courtney’s sick of seeing girls leave Duncan’s trailer so she gets her first groupie OR maybe she hooks up with a band member from a band their touring with and Duncan finds out? Oh boy.

-ok but on-stage drama?? Duncney just glaring at eachother while performing and Duncan smashes his guitar or Courtney gets all in his face, belting out lyrics dissing him specifically

-DRUNKney in either ones trailers after a show, both just crying about how much they love and can’t live without each other but the next day they act like nothing happened because they’re both stupid messes

-Ok but imagine the mess at awards shows, Courtney being the only sober one while her band mates act a fool?? Red carpet drama?? Blowing up at the paparazzi for invasive questions?? Oml

-Duncan is very much toxic in this and despite him living the rockstar life, he hates seeing Courtney do the same, Gwen will always call him out on it and he plays dumb like BOI

-Ok but awe imagine Duncan writing love songs for Courtney in the beginning and vice versa, a few of them are their most popular songs so they HAVE to perform them, ouch. There’s definitely compilations of their performances where they look at each other with heartbreak and longing(also compilations of their on-stage drama lmao)

-Ok but Courtney’s main look is Bell bottoms, chunky heeled boots & a Bustier(very much inspired by Selena thnx) but she didn’t start this look until she became single which had Duncan punching the air

-Ok but Tour Bus drama?? All of them in a cramped space, the boys are messy, the girls have too much stuff, they can’t get away from each other when fighting because they’re all stuck in the same small vicinity lol

-ok but the bands sound is constantly changing but stays within the rock genre because of all their different aesthetics which makes them so popular because they bring in fans that have different tastes✨ There’s definitely an insane amount of arguing whenever writing/producing a new album lmao

There’s eventually a happy ending or something Idk I just need a trashy, drama filled fic full of rockstar aesthetic and good tunes✨ but add more if you’d like & who could the other members be?? Omg

Omfg I love these so much! Definitely need a Rock Band AU!!

I immediately thought of this fanart from way back when.

Color by daanton and lineart by TDI-Exile on DA

I know Bridgette’s on the drums in it but like either way it’s a vibe.

The tension this band has to endure from Duncney is unreal. I can imagine everyone needing couching for whenever they do interviews because if not?? They would spill so much tea!

This might be a hot take but like, Geoff being the tour manager? He’d 100% know how to get good business for them. All the clubs, bars, stadiums?

Omfg DJ as their head of security? Bodyguard DJ!!! Everyone sees him and just knows not to try some stupid shit. He’s rock solid and will shut shut down when it comes to protecting the band.

Idk about anything else lol you pretty much nailed it with this one ❤️‍🔥

#duncney #td courtney #td duncan #total drama courtney #total drama duncan #td gwen #total drama gwen #td bridgette #total drama bridgette #td geoff #total drama geoff #td dj #total drama dj #killer bass 5 #kb5

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featherlouise · 2 years ago

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Shoving fluff into the crack AU

Ok realises there's no way he's just hearing things when he takes Hollow to their room after a long day of training and tells them to rest

And they murmur "I love you, dad" as they're tucked in

:00

That's actually a little heartbreaking oml

I HAD A SIMILAR IDEA ACTUALLY

Instead it was PK walking past Hollow's room and hearing them talk to a king's idol they stole or something (I was gonna say a stuffed animal hornet gave them but she doesn't exist yet :///)

#asks

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leejungchans · 3 years ago

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guys this looks so fun i wanna add an idea too 😭😭

can we talk abt a college au with dance major!soonyoung, tho? captain of the dance team and one of the most popular students on campus - loved by everyone because of how sweet and cute he is + how talented he is at what he does. he’s living the life: following his dream, loved by everyone, with an amazing group of friends.

the reader is a notorious heartbreaker - they are a bit of a player, but it’s also because they’re so naturally charming and attractive, but won’t hesitate to ruthlessly reject you if you try to confess. people keep trying, though, because there are the occasional people you flirt with and entertain for a few weeks - they ultimately get dropped and heartbroken as well.

the reader’s friend group consist of bad boy!jeonghan who’s like a protective older brother to the reader, jock!seungcheol who’s the captain of the football team and always tries to stop the reader from being such a heartbreaker, and dance major (with a minor in art)!minghao, who’s your childhood friend. your group of four isn’t exactly well liked by all, but you guys do have quite the fanclub and the whole school population knows you anyways, so y’all still get invitations to all the parties and are pretty popular.

so, the reader and soonyoung cross path often, whether it’s dance showcases that you and your friends go to support minghao, or friday night parties at the frat house, or football games where you meet because mingyu, one of soonyoung’s friends, is also on the team.

it’s not difficult for soonyoung to end up crushing on you. he keeps trying to talk to you and be near you and get to know you more, and for some reason, you let him.

at first, the reader would flirt with soonyoung like they would with any other person they plan to play, but as time goes on, the reader starts to be more genuine in their conversations with him and the tone shifts from lighthearted flirting to real talks. the reader isn’t sure why they’re acting like this, but they’re suddenly careful to be strictly platonic in the way they act towards soonyoung, because although they won’t admit it to themself, the boy has become an important person in her life and they don’t want to hurt him.

meanwhile, soonyoung is disheartened because he feels like he’s backtracking sometimes when the reader flirts less in their day to day convos, especially because he starts to fall in love the more he gets to know them as an actual person. he can’t give up on the reader just yet, because there’s no doubt that his heart still does flips in his chest on those quiet, vulnerable moments when he and the reader are alone and they look at him with a look in their eyes that makes him wonder if- maybe- they’re in love with him, too.

maybe i’ll write a fic abt this, if i muster up the brain and willpower 🤔

- stella 🤙

stella ur brain is so sexc for this oml everything about this is so 😞😞😞 horangdans u have to read this

#bestie if u do write this i will eat it up 😮‍💨#if i wasn’t alr writing a hoshi fic i’d totally write this too 😭#🤙 anon #sol.svt thoughts

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honeydazai · 4 years ago

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OML I just had a thought. Let's go back to the child! AU for a sec

Sigma is that one kid who carried around like 5 decks of cards in his bag. Not even like 1$ decks. Like full-on gold leaf decoration with a pretty box.

Simga and you play all sorts of card games. And by all sorts of card games I mean go-fish and only go-fish because that's all you know how to play.

Sigma loves to do cards tricks for you, although sometimes he gets so embarrassed or nervous and the cards scatter all over the place. (he has a hard time doing tricks with his small hands)

Simga who loves your wide-eyed look and laughter after you win. He loves it so much he often lets you win if Nikolai and Fyodor aren't playing.

Sigma once stole his family's limited edition poker chips and brought them to school to show you. He got in a lot of trouble but it was worth it to see you smile with interest.

Sigma's house is most likely huge. maybe even bigger than Fyodors mansion because his parents own the biggest casino in japan. He loves when you two slide down the railings of the grand staircase.

I know this bitch has the best most comfortable bed out of the three. so you two can sit on his bed with snacks and watch movies from a projector.

Sigma who really does love you but feels his heartbreak in half whenever Fyodor tells him not to try and tell you how he feels. He lives the rest of his life never really ever moving on for finding someone new due to pure heartbreak.

OR, in a universe where Fyodor doesn't like y/n like that.

He asks you out with the help of Nikolai. (but Nikolai isn't much help and might end up making the situation worse) He goes on and marries you and promises you he'll make the happiest girl in the world.

omg!! THIS IS SO CUTE

Sigma is my beloved.... he's such a sweetheart, he deserves all the best 🥺🥺 Sigma asking you out with Nikolai's help, that's so adorable 🥰 i love them so much.... Sigma would be such a cute lover, imagine going on like a little date with him!! so cute

and the thought of Sigma being heart-broken because of Fyodor's and your relationship... sobbing crying i can't do this-

#🥞 mail #FREEFLOWERS BELOVED

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dreaming-of-assclass · 5 years ago

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I love your alternate take on the Civil War oml — so I was wondering if you have any other ideas for AUs of it? Since the canon one was sort of just a fight between Karma and Nagisa haha

Ahhh thanks!! 💜 I’m glad you like it! It’s super fun and interesting to think about!

Ok I’ll be honest haha: there was a period of time in which I gave an absurd amount of thought and analysis into canon Civil War, really trying my best to see both sides. I used to disagree badly with the Red Team, and hated the ending between Karma and Nagisa.

But my stance has changed since then so currently: I still heavily dislike canon Civil War, but I get why it played out the way it did. And I can respect it at least.

Ah, as for your question!

The Kayano Civil War AU by @assclass-conspiracies (ily nao) is one of my favorite things ever! It’s my first choice for a fan-made civil war.

Irina Civil War AU was my idea in a convo with a few friends on Discord...and I like it a lot but it’s definitely less dramatic than the others could be haha. I’m still currently putting more thought into it.

And for some other ideas...tbh I can’t think of a lot. Except one. One very terrible heart-breaking one.

...what if some of the kids on Team Red still wanted to continue the assassination...for the money?

I know...awful.

And...it would give everyone a reason to be angry at each other, not just Karma and Nagisa’s singular drama. And the whole situation would feel more like a class Civil War, you know? Not just everyone spectating these two beating each other up.

Honestly I’m specifically thinking of like Terasaka Squad and the Art trio. They’re who come to mind. Lowkey could also see Nakamura?

“What the hell is wrong with you??? You’re just doing this for the money???”

“Look! We really need it and the octopus would want us to be secure!”

Yeah...something among these lines.

ITS TERRIBLE AND I HATE IT BECAUSE ITS SO HEARTBREAKING.

I think I could only explore this in a one-shot or something though. It’s definitely not suitable to be an actual AU tbh.

One of the biggest reasons is that it would...make you resent those kids. And I lowkey resent Team Red in canon so this would make me 😡😭

I shared this in the rewrite server and broke a few hearts...basically everyone agreed that it’s too upsetting lmao.

Oh I think maybe I do have another AU idea! I would love one where Kataoka survives and lasts longer than Isogai, getting the spotlight on herself for once. We needed more of her leadership to shine through!

And yeah I think that’s it! I can’t really think of anymore right now haha.

Thanks for asking!! 💜💜

#assclass #assassination classsroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #ask #au

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yeats-infection · 5 years ago

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hard agree with ur roommate on that WIP, that snippet was sooo good oml

by popular demand, here’s what i have so far of the possibly never-to-be-finished or maybe eventually-to-be-finished band of brothers weed farm AU, tentatively titled PURPLE HAZE, below the cut:

Dick was no hippie. He was also no fool. “We’ve got to hide it from the air,” he said thoughtfully.

“The real pros plant it between rows of corn,” Nix told him.

All in all this was going better so far than he had thought it would.

“What do we do with all the damned corn?”

“Why, moonshine, of course.”

“That’s pushing your luck,” Dick said. He was a real pragmatist. “How do you know all this?”

Nix scratched his head. He knew it was his poker tic, and he knew that Dick would know that too. “Family connections,” he said.

“I thought your family connections were in the fertilizer business,” said Dick, who knew this well, in fact, having worked for said company, for a brief time after the war, during the period when they had all independently decided they were going to try to hack it in the Real World.

“Well, what do you think they started off fertilizing?”

Dick hesitated. “I just don’t know why you never told me any of this before,” he said. “You haven’t made a habit of lying to me.”

“This was just omission.” Nix shrugged. “You’re a straight laced kind of man.”

“That I never wanted to drop acid with you when we were over there doesn’t mean I’m… entirely opposed to mind-altering substances.”

Nix had sure as hell fielded a lot of dirty looks, and, worse, concerned looks, in the CP over in Vietnam, when he closed the tent flaps behind himself and Dick after some particularly rough patrol or briefing and sparked a joint. Dick had always put a thoughtful hand up to go with the dirty or concerned looks, because Nix had always offered the joint to him, even knowing he wouldn’t take it. Especially knowing he wouldn’t take it.

“Well,” Nix said, “before I brought this proposal to you I wanted to make sure I had retained anything at all from my degree in horticulture.”

He took the film canister out from his pocket and put it between them on the kitchen table. For a moment Dick studied him, and then he grabbed the canister and opened it and poured the contents out onto one of the nice floral cotton placemats that had been made for him by his sister.

“I’m calling it Easy Diesel,” said Nix.

“You’ve got to be god damn kidding me,” said Dick, but he picked up one of the larger of the buds and carefully started pulling it apart. They had come out nice, if Nix did say so himself. They were big and sticky and a psychedelic iridescent purple-green.

“It’s my own breed,” Nix went on, wondering if he sounded desperate. He sure as hell felt desperate, not least for a god damn toke. “Good for sleeping.”

Dick cocked a pale eyebrow in his direction. “It helps you sleep?”

“Sure, this strain does, but I can breed different strains that’ll make you feel different things…”

“Nix, you grew this?”

He turned the bud in the light through the kitchen window, curiously, like a jewel.

“Well, I grew its grandparents from seeds, and then I crossed them, and this is the cross, second generation, grown from a cutting.”

“How many of these have you got?”

“Four in my bathtub in Jersey,” Nix said. “I’ve been showering at my sister’s. Couple more in the basement too, under a light.”

“And where do you get the seed?”

He’d hoped not to have to involve Dick in this part of it. “I have a contact,” he said.

“Nix, if I’m going to go in on this with you, I need to be an equal partner.”

“Fine. It’s Spiers.” As it had been over there. “You know he lives in Texas now, and he can get seed from Mexico. But I don’t need him anymore unless we want to grow another strain.”

“We might want to keep that in mind,” said Dick.

“Alright. I’ll write to him.” He indicated the bud in Dick’s hand. “We might want to try that before you sign on the dotted line.”

Dick passed the bud back across the table to Nix who set about expertly shredding it into flakes. “I don’t have any papers,” Dick said, watching him.

Nix cocked an eyebrow. “You used to smoke rollies exclusively!”

“Been trying to quit cigarettes. You just can’t keep anything in the house.” At Nix’s upward glance he said, “This is fine, though. As long as you have a way to smoke it.”

“You think I’d come all this way and level you with this without a way to smoke it?”

Nix had a little pipe in his overnight bag. He packed it and they lit up. The rest was history.

Nix had enlisted right after college. He didn’t want to go through the whole song and dance of avoiding the draft, and his father was breathing down his neck, having gotten a Purple Heart at Monte Casino in the Second World War. Dick had signed up straight out of high school, having believed out of his damnable earnestness that it was the right thing to do. Dick was like the “some folks are born, made to wave the flag” line from the beginning of “Fortunate Son,” but none of the bad stuff after. That was just the way he was. He had been at boot camp then in school learning to be an officer. They saw each other summers and went to the drive in movie theater and talked about the news from the Soviet bloc, and about spies and space and music. Sometimes Dick had Things to Say about the stuff Nix was learning about at Yale, like colonialism and hegemony, but they argued about it good naturedly and then they moved on to arguing about music. Dick liked those Greenwich Village folkies and he was legitimately let down when Dylan went electric. Nix had Are You Experienced on repeat. There were other things they didn’t talk about at all, like that Nix had read Alfred Kinsey’s reports in class and thought of himself first as a one, then as a two, then a three, and now intermittently as a four, sometimes even a five. The truth was he only incidentally thought of any people who weren't Dick. He couldn’t even regret being doomed to such a sorry condition, because being around Dick was such a joy. It was a joy, in its brutal way, even when they were over there. It was a joy when he had forgotten he could feel joy.

Now, after everything, Dick had all this land, off Route 6 not far from the New York border, on which the trees moved quietly, and the hills were low and green. He had all that land, and just about nothing else, because he had spent just about every penny of his salary from Nixon Nitration and his war pension and his inheritance from his parents' deaths buying that plot to get himself away from the world. In New Jersey, working for his father as little more than a body in a suit, Nix had just about everything he wanted, except his own soul. That was somewhere yet to be seen. In Vietnam, he must have put it down somewhere, like his helmet or his canteen or something, except that he had forgotten to pick it up. This had happened to most of them, except for Dick, who had doggedly held onto his somehow as he had also held onto his life, his relative sanity, his damnable good looks, and his even more damnable good humor.

The big idea was a relatively obvious one to Nix, who had had his first toke in San Francisco just before shipping out, and who drove out to Dick’s farm twice a month or so to shoot the shit at the kitchen table and lie sleepless in the twin bed in the guest room listening to the woods and the snoring from the next room over and debating numerous impossibilities until dawn, when he would get up and go down to the fallow fields and make estimates as to the soil quality. Then he would make coffee and biscuits. “Well damn, Nix, you didn’t have to do that,” said Dick, coming down around seven, chuffed and bedheaded, which was exactly why Nix had to do it.

He understood he had ulterior motives. But he could make an entire list of reasons why this wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had that weren’t those ulterior motives.

Finally Dick said something like, “I don’t know how I’m going to do this anymore.” They were sitting at the kitchen table in the sunset. He offered Nix a weak smile that might be described as heartbreaking. “Might be scrounging for a job around Nixon Nitration.”

Nix couldn’t help himself, though it did feel like the first second when you had to stand up and start running across an open clearing under enemy fire, before the adrenaline kicked in and everything cleared. He had been waiting for the right moment for what felt like his entire life. “You wanna know what I think?”

Dick’s brow tightened. “I always wanna know what you think.”

“But do you really wanna know what I think.”

It was expensive to get a grow operation going. Nix had some money, but he’d long since drunk most of his nest egg, so it was barely enough to get seed and nitrogen and decent irrigation. They woke up with the sun and worked the field until it went down, and some nights they came stumbling in at dusk, sunburned, parched, and there was hardly any food to put on the table. It wasn’t much worse than it had been at war — rice, stale bread, cans of beans or tuna fish, hot water with lemon. Ears of steamed or grilled corn, eventually, when the crop got kicking. By night Nix hunched over the grow light in the living room and tended to the hatchlings. “Never seen you act so gentle,” Dick said, putting the radio on, settling onto the couch with the paper, dirt under his fingernails.

“Yeah, well.” His face was hot, not just because of the proximity to the light. “They’re notoriously fragile.”

They shared a joint, went separate ways to bed. Most nights Nix passed out before his head hit the pillow. This was a marked improvement from what things had been like back in Jersey. Who knew the secret all along had been back-breaking agricultural labor? He thought about writing a letter to the Secretary of Veteran’s Affairs or whoever was supposed to be handling the burgeoning public health crisis that was an entire generation's rampant PTSD.

They were accustomed to working hard together. Dick had never been the kind of officer who had gotten off on asking the underlings to do all the shit-shoveling, and Nix had followed suit, only wanting to be an officer half as good as Dick. He remembered participating in a kind of bucket relay, tossing sandbags off a truck toward the CP on one of the many, many nights it flooded. In the highest heat of the day he sat in the cool grass in the shade, drinking too-tart lemonade and puncturing a hose just-so with a knife to lay some makeshift irrigation. Dick came out after a few minutes with what passed for sandwiches. His sunburnt nose was peeling, even though he sometimes put zinc oxide on it like a lifeguard in a soap opera. “Remember when you got hit in the head?”

It was a ricochet that glanced off his helmet — the closest he had come over there to turning in his dance card forever. He had a headache for a few days after, and the doc had moved a flashlight between his eyes with an air of concern. Dick had been quite alarmed. He hovered for a while like some kind of fairy godparent. It was kind of embarrassing, but Nix didn't say anything about it.

“Of course I do.”

“Well,

Nix went to town to buy nitrogen at the Agway. On the way back he stopped for cigarettes at the general store. Scanning the magazine rack whilst the shopgirl fished out his Marlboro Reds he nearly had a massive coronary. There was a picture from Vietnam on the cover of Esquire Magazine with the following caption:

HEART OF DARKNESS: D.K. WEBSTER REVISITS VIETNAM

He picked it up. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What’s that?” The shopgirl was a pregnant woman in overalls and a man’s ribbed tank top. She tossed the cigs Nix’s way.

“Nothing.” He showed her the magazine, wishing he had the sleight of hand to just shove it up his shirtsleeve. “I’ll take this too.”

In the parking lot, he checked that the bags of nitrogen were secure in the bed of Dick’s pickup, and then he sat on the back bumper in the profound sun and opened to the table of contents, then, skipping cologne ads and spreads of beautiful women in states of undress, opened to the introductory page preceding Webster’s article. According to the byline, the pictures had been taken by a photographer who had been with their company for a little while, had been all over the country and had disappeared in the Spring of 1970 somewhere on Cambodia’s Highway 1. The article was preceded by a two-page spread of one such photograph of Easy Company on Hill 926 toward Christmas ’69. He looked over the faces of all the boys, naming them, the dead ones and the alive ones and the should have been dead ones and the should have been alive ones, inside his mind, until he came upon the pixelated black mar of his own eyes. Then he folded up the magazine and put it in his back pocket and drove back up to Dick’s farm in something of a fugue state. Over there, on the rare occasions upon which they had access to a Jeep, Dick usually drove it, because Nix was usually under the influence of something or other. Dick could not be gotten under the influence of anything besides grief, or anger, a few times that he let Nix see, and these did not seem to cloud his judgement overmuch. It had been something to see Vietnam that way — like a tourist, watching the forest from the windows, the beach and the water, the blood in the water, the great napalm swaths like deep burned scars. He had thought at first that Dick thought he was stoned and useless, but now he wasn't so sure, and anyway it had felt like a strange gift, like new eyes…

Back at the farm, he practically threw himself down in the better chair pulled up to the kitchen table. He rolled a joint and sparked the end of it. Thus prepared, he took the magazine out of his pocket and began to read:

In March 1969, D.K. Webster appeared before the editor of this magazine and just about prostrated himself before the news desk to ask if he might be permitted to cover the conflict in Vietnam. He flew to Saigon that June and embedded himself with E Company of the elite 101st Airborne, where he remained until February of the following year. Shortly after returning stateside he checked himself into an inpatient mental health facility. Now, three years later, he has at last filed his first story for this magazine. — Ed.

The boys were just about to go to the wire for the night when I got to the camp on Hill 926. The guns among them were varied and babied like children. Spit-shined barrels caught the last sun. The medic came over at the last with speed pills. There was no dinner. I was shaken up, literally, from the chopper, and also figuratively, being as I had been the only living cargo, unloaded en route to Saigon with corpses draped with their camouflage ponchos, ripped through with bulletholes and muddy with blood. I was pretty sure my brain had released the store of psychedelic chemicals you were supposed to get at the moment of death so it was just as well the medic didn’t offer any speed to me, that first night, though he would later.

The boys were my age. Some were younger than me. After some spiteful if hushed debate among themselves they gave me a helmet which had belonged to someone dead. There was blood splattered inside it and nothing to clean it out with. Still, I put it on. The bodies in the chopper had put the fear in me and there were not, absolutely were not, enough cigarettes. I waited for someone to offer me one, but nobody did. Instead the First Sergeant offered me a gun.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

Remembered belatedly you were supposed to call them sir. Some of the grunts snickered.

“Point it and shoot it,” said the First Sergeant.

I’d been in places where they wanted to put a show on for me and in other places where they herded me back onto the chopper as soon as they heard I was a reporter. I had also been in Saigon, where there was not much to do but lie in bed drunk and jerk off until raw. On Hill 926 I was another body with a beating heart. I took the gun and we went to the wire. There were more boys out there taping sixteen clips together so they’d go faster. They had gloves to move the big box guns by the hot barrels but the fabric was wet and rotting. Cassette player spinning Donovan. Somebody had VOODOO CHILD engraved into his helmet. At last somebody gave me a god damn cigarette. You would have needed something to look across what men like these in previous wars might have termed no man’s land. The napalm had turned the edge of the forest into a bridge between this world and Hades. The night fog was coming out of it. Between us and that was barbed wire stretched over blood-slaked mud, hung with charred corpses. Now I was glad there had been no dinner.

The speed was kicking in for just about everybody else. Because there was nothing to shoot at yet they took a keen interest in my well-being. “Keep your head down.” “Keep your mouth shut.” “Keep the belt flat.” “If you get hit, yell for the medic. Only if you get hit!” Finally, “For gods sake wait for one of us before you god damn start shooting.”

I asked them if they ever got friendly fire.

“Medic in 4th Company got killed that way.”

“Took out some of the Lurps in the 67th.”

You were always learning new words which were just ways of saying things that took less time.

“Long range recon patrollers,” explained one of the boys. The nameplate, as well as the sleeves, had come off his jacket, but everybody called him Babe, except for the medic, who called everybody by the surname, and Babe’s was Heffron. When he looked to the forest, he saw something I didn’t, because of his training, and because he had put greasepaint around his eyes, like an ancient Egyptian lady, against the infernal messaging of the high yellow moon. Ready to burst like a pincushion mushroom on the edge of the horizon. “Ours are coming,” he said.

“You see em?”

The call went down the line to hold fire. The movement in the fog and the skeletons of the trees — like actors on a stage, like apparitions, ghosts. There were two negotiating the brutal wasteland, delicately around the landmines. Someone put a flare up. There was a captain and a corporal, differentiable by the insignia upon their tattered uniforms. They wore greasepaint and carried rifles. The corporal had let his rest against his forearm and shoulder so that he could roll a cigarette from a pack of loose tobacco drawn from inside his destroyed fatigue jacket.

A line from Dylan surfaced in the civilian part of my mind: Maggie come fleet foot face full of black soot…

“How long have they been out there?”

“Since yesterday noon.”

The captain went toward the CP to speak to the major. The corporal came into our foxhole and sat up against the sandbags to light the cig he’d just rolled. His boots were so bad he might as well have been barefoot. His eyes were dark, helmet askew and dented. A startling quality of blood on his person not necessarily his own. “How many, Lieb,” said the gunner, Toye.

“Two companies coming down from the mountain camp. Who’s got pills?”

“Two companies?”

“That’s what I said, ain’t it?”

“Lieb, we’re just one company.”

The dark gaze found me. It was like looking back into the edge of the forest, the skeletons and fog, shadows, death lurking close at hand. “Who’s this then?”

Heffron cackled. “They gave us a correspondent.”

I made up my mind I had to talk to the LRRP that the boys called Lieb, because he scared the shit out of me.

The Lurps’ job was to go into the woods and try to figure out whereabouts the VC were moving, where they were encamped and the gear they had, their numbers, the locations of their traps and tunnels. The company at the camp on Hill 926 had two men who served this purpose, the captain, Spiers, and the corporal, Liebgott. Rumor was general in the camp about the quantity of VC these men had killed and the things they had seen and done. Between them they had done five tours before this one. Between them they were rumored to have survived a chopper crash, at least three VC ambushes, a court martial, a suicide attempt, a week without sleep, more than fifty parachute drops, booby traps galore, setting foot in the city of Hue, flushing out a collective six VC tunnels, and stepping on a no doubt exaggerated quantity of dud landmines. Spiers was unapproachably scary. He had allegedly executed prisoners on numerous occasions. In the heights of misery when not even the Dexedrine pills could bring you up out of the depths of the fear the men would joke about asking the captain to take them behind the CP and get it over with.

Liebgott, called Lieb, not seeming to understand what this word actually means in the German language, was also a stone killer by all accounts, thoroughly dead in the eyes, like looking at them you were surprised his lips weren’t blue, and they caught no reflection, but he spent all his time at camp, which was slim, listening to Da Capo and The Notorious Byrd Brothers (Do you think it’s really the truth that you see? I’ve got my doubts it’s happened to me) on cassette and chain smoking. This made him seem like someone I might have gotten to know if I had stayed in college, though I understood this was a fallacy. Anyway, by this point I was taking the uppers when the medic offered so I went over of an early morning when he was shaving his face.

He had Love on. “You know you have the same name as this band,” I said.

He was trying to figure out if I was serious. He had the razor poised right over his carotid artery. Under all the greasepaint he had good skin, thin beard, hollow cheeks. His hair was limp and filthy. In another life he might have been good looking. I sat down in the mud. That’s how bad I wanted to talk to him. I sat in the goddamn mud. The mud was made of blood and piss and worse around here. It didn’t even faze him, because he was sleeping in worse every night he was out there.

Tried another in: “You listen to Forever Changes?”

He set the razor gliding again over the bone of his jaw. “Had a tape,” he said. “It rotted.”

“Well, I’ll see if I can get you another one.”

He was trying to get the read on me. “What do you want.”

“Talk to you.”

“Not enough to get shot at out on the wire?”

“This is for Esquire,” I said. “It ain’t for Newsweek.”

He spat in the mud, but it came so perilously close to the toe of my left boot that it might’ve been intentional. “Can’t say I’d make a good centerfold,” he said. His face was twitching with the smile he was playing like he was too tough to put on it. “Even in lingerie.”

I liked him, though he made himself very difficult to like, and was out in the bush with Captain Spiers more nights than not; when you got him warmed up, he would talk about it, sometimes too much, sometimes things you didn’t really want to know. I went back to my bedroll and wrote them down and tried to put them out of my head. Six months later, I was at the tail end of a sleepless 36-hour benzo binge, and the wind was blowing wrong, out of the wrong mouth at the wrong end of the world, bringing rain and the smell of death and napalm and the latrines, on the suffocating humid night when Spiers half-carried him out of the woods —

Dick’s shadow loomed over Nix’s shoulder and distorted the light on the text. “This is mildly embarrassing,” he said.

Nix felt like someone had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and yanked him out of a dead man’s float. “Hell,” he said, voice cracking, “for who?”

Dick shrugged. “Everybody involved.” He headed over to the stovetop percolator to spoon in fragrant coffee grounds. “David might've played it a little less fast and loose on the schoolboy crush front.”

“Schoolboy crush?”

Dick cocked an incredulous eyebrow. “Nix, your reading comprehension leaves something to be desired.”

“On — wait. On Liebgott!”

Dick turned back to the stove. “Maybe you need an eye test.”

Nix dropped the magazine on the table like it was radioactive. He supposed it might have been. His heart was acting up. What other kinds of things had Dick noticed? “My head was pretty damn far up my own ass.”

“I’d say so. Anyway, in my day we called that kind of prose florid.”

“In your day! Where the hell?”

“High school English.”

The knock at the door in the night was a sharp shock, bright as lightning, that sent them both back to Khe Sanh and before. Nix ducked. Dick went behind the doorframe. They kept low into the kitchen, where Nix took his old officer’s pistol out from where he kept it hidden behind the fridge. Then they went to the door, keeping to the edges of the hallways.

On the porch was Liebgott. He could have made his own way in likely right onto the couch without either of them noticing, so it was something that he had knocked on the goddamn door. It was particularly something given that none of the boys from Easy should have known about the grow operation, or even about Dick’s farm, being as Dick’s address on file at the V.A. was a post office box in town and Nix’s was still in Jersey. These considerations were nil to somebody who had spent the better part of five years in the bush of Vietnam. He took a last draw from his cigarette and put it out against the rubber sole of his boot, then he put the butt in his pocket. As far as Nix knew, he hadn’t said a word since January 1970.

“Joe,” said Dick diplomatically. He put his hand out and Liebgott took it. Then he took Nix’s. He had handsome dark eyes, but they were full of a wall. You could tell he saw you, but it was like nothing followed the necessary channels to the brain to spur emotional response. It had been like this even while he was still talking, and after a while you got used to it.

“You comin' in,” said Nix, knowing he probably would even if he wasn’t invited.

Inside, they all three sat at the kitchen table in silence nobody was about to break. Finally Dick got up and went to the drawer where they kept the rollies and their share of the product. He passed a sheaf of papers and a film canister full of bud to Liebgott across the table. Nix understood as well as Dick apparently did that there would be no getting anything over on this kid, who had eyes in the back and sides of his head. He’d probably had a nice tour of the property before coming inside. “You hungry, son,” Dick said.

Liebgott shook his head. He extracted one of the buds from the canister and inspected it. They did look mighty good if Nix said so himself. They looked artful in Liebgott’s hand. There were black scabs across his knuckles and a dark rime of filth under those fingernails which still existed. He seemed satisfied enough with what he saw to take a paper out of the sheaf and start shredding the flower into it.

“Captain Nixon calls it Easy Diesel,” said Dick, like he was trying to pretend it wasn’t the funniest thing in the world.

Liebgott looked up and a smile flashed across his face like the savage golden light of a flare falling over the far hills. His smile was sort of brutal, like the edge of a knife in a barfight, or like a seething animal. Luckily it went away as quickly as it had come. He rolled the joint with a quick grace and lit the business end with his old silver Zippo Nixon hadn’t seen since the war. There was a skull engraved on one side and on the other it read IF YOU ARE RECOVERING MY BODY, FUCK YOU.

“I don’t know how you found us, Joe,” Dick said thoughtfully. “You don’t have to… tell us. But we ain’t exactly keen to have just anybody here.” He paused and looked quickly to Nix, who tried to make it abundantly clear by means of eyebrows that he wasn’t sure they ought to go down this road, wherever it was leading. Dick ignored him. Liebgott was watching them, fully understanding their attempted clandestine exchange. “We ain’t exactly keen to have the DEA here,” Dick said at last.

The cherry at the end of the joint atomized with a crackling hiss. Liebgott looked between Dick and Nix with extreme seriousness sullied only by his exhaling a dignified white cloud out his nose. Then he nodded, once, curtly, demonstrating he understood his orders as they had been relayed.

Nix flashed Dick what he thought was a what have you done type look. But Dick looked totally unbothered. He should have gone into this business years ago for how violently unflappable he was. He said to Liebgott, “I’ll get some blankets and you can make up the couch.”

Liebgott shook his head to say no need. He got up, careful not to scrape the chair against the floor, shook each of their hands again, and in less than a minute’s time he was back out the door with nothing more than what he’d come in with except the joint.

Nix and Dick, on the porch, listening to the crickets, watched him disappear into the darkness.

“Are we hallucinating,” said Nix eventually.

“I sure as hell hope not,” Dick replied. “We’ve got to ship all that product or we’ll starve.”

In the morning Nix was in the field, inspecting the plants. Liebgott was standing there at his quarter for god knew how long before he cleared his throat and Nix jumped about six feet in the air. There was a smirk shifting across Liebgott’s face that he would have been better about hiding when Nix had been his commanding officer. He looked like he hadn't slept. Back over there he had looked like that a lot, but it had been different, because of all the uppers they were taking. He cocked his head back over toward the long driveway and then he was off across the dew-wet grass which had already soaked through the hems of his canvas pants and his destroyed shoes.

Nix followed, like a duckling behind a hen. Liebgott still walked as though there were eyes in all sides of his head quickly processing information as he moved. Nix doubted you ever lost that kind of skill, even if in the real world it made you look like a mental patient. He caught up so they could walk side by side through the dew-wet grass. “What did you think,” he asked Liebgott.

Liebgott passed Nix the universal sign of furrowed brow that meant please clarify.

Nix gestured with pinched fingers to his own mouth as though Liebgott were also deaf. “The grass.”

He shaped his hand into an a-ok sign.

“You get any sleep?”

He nodded an infinitesimal nod, like the answer was a secret just for Nix to know.

“Well if you think it could be better just tell me how.”

Nix had had a high school friend whose sister was deaf from scarlet fever and whom he had watched on occasion communicate with her by means of sign language. Early on, back over there, he had sent off to command for a book, but by the time it came he understood it wasn’t that Liebgott couldn’t speak, he just didn’t want to. It was something like how people’s hair supposedly turned white if they witnessed some evil thing, or how people became ascetics in the name of god. If you were really fucked up on drugs or fear or otherwise, or if the natural magical thinking from childhood hadn’t been fully beaten out of you, you might have seen it as the sacrifice he had given to the forest for letting him out without a scratch so many goddamn times. It had been a bit of a trial to explain this to Spiers, who was practical almost to a fault, sometimes.

Liebgott showed another a-ok sign. Then he did a thumbs up which Nix knew meant it was good.

All in all it was smart. If he was still talking, Nix might have asked him, what have you been up to? You been sleeping on the street? You been to the V.A.? What did they tell you? And the answer would’ve been nothing good. Instead they just walked in the cool grass together in the sunshine and the morning was beautiful, and the air was sweet. It was all lovely until Liebgott had to physically stop him, laughing, somehow silently but also hysterically, from stepping right onto the razor-thin tripwire stretched invisibly across the dark gravel.

In the kitchen, Dick was doing the numbers. He took his glasses off when Nix came in and put the coffee on. “He learned a thing or two from Charlie,” Nix said, leaning against the counters.

“Who, Joe?”

“Our driveway is thoroughly ratfucked.”

“Hmm,” said Dick. He put the glasses back on and turned back to the accounting book. He was going to do this whole thing as above board as was humanly possible. The vivid daylight came through the window and struck the lens of his unstylish Ray-Bans and threw a kind of prism of color upon the white paper and the chicken-scratch sums. Nix felt like maybe this was something you would paint if you had the necessary implements and artistic ability. “Maybe we should see if we can get any more help.”

He was mildly ashamed to say it, but the doc had always kind of creeped Nix out. He imagined a hypothetical conversation with Dick, who he knew loved the kid, almost like a son: Listen, don’t get me wrong, he’s a good kid, I owe him my life, yadda yadda. But either he’s dropped the brown acid one too many times or the voodoo exorcism went FUBAR.

The doc had arrived on the farm on the heels of Sunshine and Rainbows, aka Mr. Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed, aka one Edward “Babe” Heffron. Nix had written Babe in South Philly, being as he was a connoisseur of bud and once upon a time had been famed among their company for smoking anything anyone put in his hand, often to his own detriment. The operation was getting big enough that Nix needed another pair of hands, other than Liebgott, of course, who was still fortifying the long driveway whilst giving away his cover by playing Led Zeppelin IV as loudly as was possible. It was a tough calculation, because Babe was a genius of pot, but he couldn’t keep a damn secret, and lo and behold he had dragged along with him a dark shadow in the human form of Eugene Roe. They came up the driveway in a big old Ford pickup that rattled its rust off in the potholes. Liebgott had dismantled the traps specially for their arrival when they had called from Williamsport to say they were an hour out.

“I figured we could use a medical professional to lend some credibility to the operation,” said Babe thoughtfully, sparking a joint on the porch over sweating jam jars of iced tea.

Roe snorted or something but it wasn’t really a normal person’s self-effacing laugh. Winters clapped his back. Nixon knew Roe had dropped out of medical school after two years but there was no need to say anything. Everyone knew that. Now he was working construction and Babe claimed to be working as a mechanic in a garage, but this seemed suspect given the state of the car they had driven up in.

“Well we sure as hell are glad you boys are here,” said Dick magnanimously.

Babe exhaled an opaque cloud that rivaled Nix’s own father’s ability with a stogie. “Can we see the bush?”

They went out all together to the field and ducked between the rows of corn. Babe knelt in the soil. It was damp with dew and quiet in here. It would have been almost like over there except it smelled good. “What’s the cross,” Babe said, inspecting the plants.

“It’s an indica blend…”

“Well, I can tell that,” he said.

“So you’re an expert on the plant now too?”

“I’ve just smoked an awful lot of joints in my life, Captain Nixon.”

Roe snorted again. When they all looked to him he said, “You said in the letter there was some kind of altruistic reason for all this.”

“It’s medicine, Gene,” Babe said gently, but also like they had had this conversation thirty thousand times. Nix filed away for later the intimation that Roe had read the letter he’d sent Babe at home in South Philadelphia.

“I guess you don’t remember the psychic break you had at the Do Lung Bridge.”

Babe waved this remark off, even though Nix remembered it too. It threw a chill down his back, like a water balloon had hit him at the base of his neck. “That was laced,” Babe said.

“With what!”

“I don’t know! Something bad!” Babe turned to Dick and Nix. “Gene’s teetotal,” he said, like this was a big old point of contention.

So that counted out the bad acid. Maybe he was just like this. Maybe he had had those big sad bug eyes as a child or an infant or a fetus in the womb. “Good on you, Doc,” Nix said.

“I ain’t trying it,” Roe said, folding his arms over his narrow chest, “no matter what it does.”

The doc was a tough cookie. Babe had claimed, over there, about as high as the Byrds song, that the doc came from a long line of the kind of folks described in Dr. John’s “Gris-Gris Gumbo Ya Ya” and that, as such, he could heal wounds with his mind. When it didn’t work, as on the night when Jackson died, or the night when Hoobler died, or in the forest when Muck and Penkala died, or the night when Liebgott stopped speaking, he went to sit for a while on the edge of camp until Dick went over and made him eat something. Nix watched them in a state of confused envy, and then he went to write the letters to the families, so that Dick wouldn’t have to.

At dusk, after they ate a light dinner of corn on the cob and rice and beans, he took the boys up into the hayloft with an armful of blankets. “Sorry this is the best we got,” he said. He had said that about a hundred god damn times since they got here.

Roe looked like he wanted to say, you’ve got to stop apologizing for everything. Instead he said, “Where does Lieb sleep.”

Babe perked up. “Joe’s here?”

“You didn’t see him in the driveway?”

Nix sighed. “He’s gonna want to know what he did wrong that you saw him,” he said.

“Does he still — ”

Nix shook his head. “Not a peep.”

In a couple days time, he couldn’t take it anymore, and he was hot and tired and stoned, up to his elbows in earth in the field, showing Babe how to replant the hatchlings he’d grown from seed. “You guys room together or what?”

“Me and Gene?” Babe’s eyes were red in the corners from smoking and from the sun. “What about you and Dick?”

Dick, who had the radio on inside turned up as loud as it would go, so that they would hear it in the field, playing Crosby Stills and Nash doing “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.” “What about me and Dick?” said Nix.

Babe was a smart kid. He realized this was going nowhere. With muddy hands he popped one of the seedlings out of its little pot and cradled it into the ground. “Well, I think he thinks he’s looking after me, but in actuality, I am looking after him.”

---

i do hope to someday finish this. webster in this AU is based on michael herr and that whole section is my impression of dispatches. the band that lieb and webster start to bond over is arthur lee’s band love. lieb’s lighter is based on a real one i saw on here sometime. this whole conceit is inspired by steve earle’s “copperhead road.”

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