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biolumien · 3 months

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to call home.

pt 4 to the samurai!hoshina fic. pt 3 is here.

notes: i will attempt to tie this up with a neat bow in pt 5... i forgot how frenetic multichapter fics can be... i much prefer the single stuff...!

samurai!soshiro hoshina x fem!reader definite descriptions of gore and blood word count: 1426

“for the last time, hoshina, i do not want to hear about your current wife problems,” gen narumi grumbles. “i cannot begin to tell you how fucking little i care.” he crosses his arms. “you’re here every single fucking day. i told you that we signed off on the alliance papers, right? it’s all in order? your wife’s the one that’s supposed to be going through those. she should be seeing right through your bullshit. i’m not your fucking friend.”

“please,” hoshina says. “it’s not like i have anyone else to talk to about this.”

“talk to the the old man,” gen deadpans. “what was his name… hibino? the blacksmith?”

“he’s madly in love with ashiro and is of little help to me,” hoshina replies flatly.

“ugh.” gen rolls his eyes, leaning forward. the front of his kimono slips a bit, revealing more of his chest as he leans against the table. “so what the hell’s the issue now?”

hoshina sighs.

“we sparred the other day. she seemed upset,” hoshina says. “i just wish she’d tell me what she was actually thinking instead of just… staring at me like that.” that look that you give him, where it seems like you want to rip out his stomach and devour it whole. that look that you give him, where you so clearly just—want him dead, more than anything.

“did you do something to piss her off?” gen asks.

“no. i just…” hoshina worries his lip. “we haven’t even really done anything.”

“not even sleep together?”

“no, that we did. because we had to,” hoshina says.

“ugh. of course you can make even the act of sleeping with someone sound dastardly unsexy and so fucking boring,” gen yawns. “what’s the problem, anyhow? we don’t marry for love. it’s duty. i thought you knew better than to believe in childish notions about true love.”

“i believe in true love as much as the next person,” hoshina says, “which is to say that i don’t. not in this life. not in the next.”

gen rolls his eyes.

“why don’t you just talk to her?” gen asks, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. hoshina supposes that it is, but something about gen saying it to him filled him with some kind of petty rage.

“i’m glad that you seem to think it’s so simple,” hoshina states flatly. “given that you don’t have a wife yet–”

“just can’t keep your mouth shut, huh?” gen’s glare was unimpressed, his hand lowering to the wakizashi at his side. “get out of here before i stab you.”

“ouch, so prickly,” hoshina sneers, but gets up anyway.

gen stares up at hoshina, yawning inelegantly.

“i think instead of pussyfooting around this whole thing with your wife you ought to talk to her, quite frankly speaking, about the kind of relationship you want with her. that’s my advice.”

“hm. that might sound good coming out of anyone else’s mouth but yours,” hoshina says with a leering smile, but the longer he thinks about it, the more gen seems to be right. he’d never truly tried to get to know you, right? nights spent in his own quarters were usually quiet—because he’d always attempted to respect your privacy to the best of his ability.

you’d wanted nothing to do with him, after all—you barely even mentioned the night you spent together. was he really so clear and obvious in the ways he tried desperately to avoid conflict?

…

probably, now that he thought about it.

as he settles down for the night, though, something doesn’t feel quite right. he chalks it up to simpler paranoias at first—general anxieties and unrest, the way you’d stared at him during dinner, with a stare so vicious it could kill on its own—up until he hears a bloodcurdling scream.

he bolts out of bed immediately, snatching up his wakizashi and katana, storming towards the source of the noise before he hears the clashing of blades—or a singular crack of one.

hoshina watches as you cleave an assassin by the neck with a sweep of your naginata, blood splattering across your kimono as you heave out a low breath. as he approaches, you raise your naginata in sudden alarm before lowering your blade.

“shinobi,” you say, sharply exhaling.

“so it appears,” hoshina says, drawing his katana, stepping behind you with his sword raised in a ready stance. “are you hurt?”

“clearly not,” you say, voice cold even now. “they breached the maids’ quarters. seems like they thought i’d have switched rooms or something out of paranoia.” you level your naginata, adjusting the sleeve of your kimono as you slam the blade into the wall, with an accompanying thud from another assassin.

“a bad actor, you’re saying?” hoshina’s eyes glance across the darkened hallway, his ears straining for any possible sound. he thinks he hears the thudding of footsteps somewhere close, and he raises his sword defensively. “from within the house?”

“i don’t know,” you respond. “this could just be your family’s enemies. representatives from the narumi clan?”

“doubtful,” hoshina says. gen wouldn’t be that stupid. “my talks have been going well.”

“well clearly, someone’s fucked up somewhere,” you shout back at him. he wonders why you look beautiful in this moment, blood staining your white kimono and across your face—and then your eyes widen in panic, your lips parting to let out a shout. “soshiro, behind!”

he whirls around, his blade sinking into the chest of a faceless attacker—he feels the sinking of his blade into the flesh, and he grits his teeth.

“you saved my life,” hoshina says, not turning to face you.

“you’re welcome, jackass,” you respond. “keep your eyes and ears open. i’ll fucking kill them all.”

hoshina laughs. the venom in your voice, usually targeted at him, now freely dished out to your aggressors was a terrifying sound and sight. he thanked the gods at least that he wasn’t your enemy—at least for the moment.

the house was in disarray—screaming punctuated with the sound of blades, and the darkness made it hard to tell what was really going on, shadows mixed with dark shapes creating an inky blur of sound and physical sensation—but he could carve a path of bodies through it, coat the ground with enough viscera that there would be less sounds of clashing blades.

as his blade finds the neck of another assassin, hoshina exhales.

is it over? hoshina wonders. he strains his hearing for the moment, hearing no more footsteps. and yet the air is abuzz with energy–and something doesn’t feel right.

though, he amended, it hadn’t felt right since he’d gotten ready to go to bed. there was terrible unrest. something in the air.

“it’s over, i think,” hoshina says warily, still keeping his sword drawn.

“maybe,” you say, your voice terse.

hoshina leans down, examining one of the bodies, trying to look for an insignia, anything–but the assassins knew better. they bore no symbols of other houses, their weapons nondescript.

and then he hears you shout, and he turns to see you gritting your teeth as you swing your naginata at the same time as the final assassin’s blade connected with your side, having been knocked slightly askew–

you’d saved him.

hoshina moves on instinct as you collapse to the ground, gasping in uneasy pain, trying to hold your side, pulling away to find your hand and sleeve coated with blood. his sword finding the assassin’s stomach–it wasn’t an elegant cut by any means, and he grimaced at the sound of ripping flesh, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care as he rushed to your side, just trying to take in the sight of your blood spilling against the floor.

you cough.

“soshiro,” you whisper, looking up at him. “am i going to die?”

“no,” hoshina says, but the truth is he’s really not sure. he checks your wound–it’s deep, but if a doctor could stem the bleeding, there’d be a chance you might live. “that was stupid of you, you know. you didn’t have to do that.”

you cough, laughing weakly as you press your hand against your side. he pulls you up, holding your head in his arm.

“it’s my duty as your wife,” you say.

“you don’t have to do it if you don’t love me,” hoshina replies softly. your eyes flick to his face, narrow a little before you look away.

“it’s a shame that i think i do,” you say, and there’s not even a shred of resentment in your voice.

#kaiju no 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #x reader #kn8 x reader

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ao3-shenanigans · 8 days

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Hi! Just a thing I wrote in honor of Comment Day. Maybe you might want to read/share it?

Every writer I have never known a writer is always happy to get positive feedback, but some readers believe if they leave kudos or a comment, they’re bothering the writer. Here’s a comparison that might explain why that isn’t the case.

Imagine that the fanfic is a play, and the author has worked really hard on the whole thing: costumes, scenery, the plot, characterization, everything. It’s opening night. The stage manager (AO3) gives the author the headcount (hit number) of the audience (the readers). The writer is now able to imagine 10 or 100 or 1000 people sitting in the audience, watching what they have created. While a big number is fantastic, most writers are thrilled anyone wants to see what they’ve made.

When the play is over, the writer comes out to take a bow. One hundred people are in the audience.

Two people clap (left a kudos).

Everyone else gets up and walks out in silence.

Obviously, the writer is happy these two people clapped, but they’re also thinking, “Did… did the other 98 people hate it? Were those pity claps? Was it that bad?”

That’s what’s happening on AO3. A fantastic single-chapter fic will get over a thousand hits and wind up with maybe 5 to 10% of those readers leaving kudos. The other 90% could include people re-reading, and numbers get more complicated with multichapter fics since readers can leave kudos only once.

But essentially, a lot of readers see a fic as being more like a movie, where the audience just leaves at the end. It’s even harder for an “older” fic (“older” can sometimes be applied to fics posted only a month ago), where the “play” has been running a while, the author is still there doing everything, but now people decide since it’s not new, there’s no point in showing they liked it.

Maybe one in a hundred readers, sometimes fewer, leaves a written comment. This is like hearing someone in that theater cheering. If it’s a piece of feedback that’s more detailed than a keysmash or an “I like this,” that person is giving the author a standing ovation. And if someone recommends the fic somewhere, maybe saying so in a comment, it’s like getting a rave review on the cover of the New York Times!

All of these are happy things. Kudos, comments of any length, recs, all of them make an author’s day shiny and happy. They’re absolutely fantastic! No writer is bothered by anyone doing these things.

Maybe you’re still thinking, okay, I can see I’m not bothering the writer, but does just writing “I really enjoyed this fic” do anything?

Yes. Because there are the other, less happy responses. Some comments might be demands, making the comment less about thanking the writer and more turning it into a to do list for them. Some authors see their work has been bookmarked only to realize it has a note like “this is awful” or “TLDR” or “started okay but was stupid by the end.” The default for bookmarks is everyone can see them. Finally, anyone who has written fic for any length of time has dealt with flames. These aren’t constructive criticism; they’re flat out abuse, ranging from name calling to highly detailed insults that are the exact reverse of a long, happy comment. Authors look in their email, see someone has commented on their fic, and are thrilled, only to read the comment and be told they are worthless, stupid, untalented. Everyone gets these sometimes, and writers should ignore them, but most of us have sometimes cried over them. Picture that same theater full of silent people, with one or two people clapping, and suddenly someone stands up and starts booing and hurling rotten tomatoes on stage. Readers might not even know it’s happening since writers usually delete those comments. But they still sting.

Kudos and compliments are not annoying anyone. Flames, on the other hand, are awful. The difference is the polite reader who chooses to say nothing out of shyness backs away from doing something that will make the writer happy, while the rude reader actively goes out of their way to make the writer unhappy.

I’ve been in fandom quite a while. Interaction has dropped since the old days, and it’s even dropped off over time at AO3. I’m not sure why, unless it’s that readers regard hits as being like views on TikTok. Since TikTok’s algorithm chooses what will show up more often in people’s feeds based on views, that makes some sense there, but AO3 doesn’t do that. There is no popularity contest writers are winning through views. Unless you tell them, they may think you hated what they wrote and that the flames are the genuine overall reaction.

The moral? If you love something, or even like it, show the writer some appreciation. The second it takes to leave a kudos might make them feel happy the whole day.

Comments and Kudos are probably some of the best gifts to give your favorite artists and storytellers (they’re free and easy too!)

#thanks for sharing!#ao3 #fanfiction #archive of our own #fanfic #ao3 shenanigans ask #fandom #writing

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wangxianficfinder · 2 months

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Fic Finder

July 21st

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1. Hiii!! I was looking for a fic where Wei Ying was captured and his memory was forcefully being shown to the cultivation world in a mirror. I think in one of the scenes he begged them to not do it which made the others think that he was indeed a criminal but well he was not. I have been searching for it but can't find it anywhere. @yilinglaobunny

FOUND? Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, WIP, WangXian, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Worth Issues)

For no 1 there is a whole collection you could try

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2. Hi! First, thank you for all your work!! It is so helpful.

I wanted to know if you could help me find a fanfic where Lan Xichen, Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao and Nie mingjue all swap bodies with each other. It seems to me that Lan Xichen becomes Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao becomes Nie Huaisang, Nie Huaisang becomes Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue becomes Meng Yao.

Thank you in advance for your time

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3. There was a fic where it was implied that Wei Wuxian was s*xually (sexually) abused in Yunmeng Jiang as punishment (Not explicitly shown). So when he gets to do punishment with Lần Wangji in Cloud Recesses he gets on his knees and starts untying Lan Wangji’s sash, which spooks him and yards yadda happens Lan Wangji reports it to Lan Xichen. Can’t find it, would love to revisit

FOUND? Hands a tent, he is praying or he is crying by Amity_Bell (M, 6k, WIP, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Child Abuse)

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4. Hello! I'm looking for a wangxian fic where Wei Ying ask Lan Zhan for his first born. I think Wei Ying is a witch? Thank you! @seke19

FOUND? 💖 spider lilies to sunflowers by cicer (E, 33k, wangxian, ABO, YL WWX, fairy tale elements, mpreg, omega LWJ, lwj topping from the bottom)

FOUND? take a sip of my secret potion (one taste and you'll be mine) by sweetlolixo (E, 16k, WangXian, F/F, Dark Fairytale, Witch WWX, Princess LWJ, Rule 63, Female LWJ/Female WWX, Dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Dragon LWJ, Identity Porn, Love Potion/Spell, Pregnant WWX, Childhood Friends, Fem!LWJ has a Dragon Dick!)

FOUND? A Sorta Fairytale With You by Speak_friend (E, 8k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Fluff and Smut, Fairy Tale Elements, Hand Jobs, animal injury (he got better!))

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5. Hello!! Im not sure if this was already asked but im looking for this multichapter fic where all in the first chapter, it is revealed that jiang cheng imprisoned wei ying and a-yuan in this shed i think?? But after years wei ying manages to free a-yuan and he runs to the cloud recesses to get help @draconislyra

FOUND? on restitution by glitteringmoonlight (M, 98k, LSZ & WWX, JL & WWX, WangXian, Dark JC, not for jc fans, Captivity, Angst with a Happy Ending, no reconciliation though, definitely no reconciliation, Crossdressing, Non-Graphic Torture, Violence)

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6. hiii admins ! i read a wangxian fic a few motnhs ago that i cannot find for the life of me :( it was modern with magic au, where wangji can see auras (mostly dark auras for anger) and red strings of fate form between people. He works at a garden shop/plant nursery with his brother and huaisang, wuxian works at a tattoo parlour with wen ning and wen qing + is a single dad to wen yuan afaik

FOUND! Demon Ink by Jade_Valentine (E, 189k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Tattoo Artist WWX, Magic, Chaotic Bisexual WWX, Demisexual LWJ, Slow Burn, Angst, Mutual Masturbation, Domestic Fluff, Welcome to my LWJ & NHS friendship agenda, Shower Sex, Brief mentions of past Lan Bro abuse at the hands of LQR, wangxian family feels, WWX is the Best Dad Ever, WWX's canonical abuse at the hands of YZY, Blow Jobs, Slight Make-Up Kink) Flower shop and tattoo parkor au LZ sees Dark energy coming off WY

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7. hii im looking for a bottomji fic wherein lwj and wwx was cursed with a sex curse fighting the xuanwu and lwj end up getting preggo magically 😂 ive been looking for fics with the same premise through ao3 but i seem to be looking at the wrong tags?? please help me 😭🙏 thank you so much!!❤️❤️❤️

FOUND? Questions at Dusk by ExtraPenguin (E, 18k, WangXian, Top WWX, Bottom LWJ, Mpreg, Lactation Kink, Class Issues, Hero Complex, Baby Animals)

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8. Hi! This is fic finder. It was modern au where the jiang is assasin. They have a restaurant as their base camp. WWX is YLLZ, top assasin with the jiang. But then he retires. LXC and LWJ is a thief. They work together with LQY (either LQY or MY or both). I think LWJ and WWX civilian self is dating each other. The lans gets a mission ro break into the wens. WQ at first help them but she betray them because the wen threatening her. The wens know LWJ existance and kidnapped him to lure HGJ (i think it was to lure his alter ego not YLLZ). But then WWX is the one who rescue him. I think i mixed two fic @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

FOUND! all the problems we could solve by Stratisphyre (T, 20k, WangXian, JC & WWX & JYL, LXC & LWJ, Modern, Getting Together, somewhat non-linear, Fluff and Humour and Violence, Meet-Cute, Identity Porn, Thieves, a bit of a leverage vibe)

NOT FOUND You Only Die Twice by Mikkeneko (T, 11k, WangXian, Assassins/Spies, Assassins & Hitmen, Modern AU, Mafia AU, Action, Moderate Violence, a lot of people die but no named characters, not exactly lan sect friendly, not exactly lan sect critical either, Assassin LWJ, Kindergarten Teacher WWX, coffee shop meet cute, Let LWJ Say Fuck, slightly cracky, Non-Linear Narrative)

NOT FOUND🔒 (i've got) trouble in mind by seularen (E, 76k, wangxian, JGY/LXC, modern w magic, heist au, thief WWX, forger LWJ, consigliere JGY, epistolary, long-distance relationship, d/d elements, Canon wangxian kinks, happy ending)

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9. Hello! I'm looking for a fic that was in my bookmarks but now I can't find it. The only thing I remember is this excerpt where LWJ and WWX where dueling/sparring and LWJ says yield while WWX is enthralled by his beauty and maybe says out loud how beautiful LWJ is. Thanks for your hard work!!!!!!

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10. hello im trying to find a married(?) wangxian fic where wei wuxian sees lan wangji talk to and hang out with a female lan member he doesn't recognize. he gets jealous and starts to think that lan wangji doesn't love him anymore. at the end they manage to clear the misunderstanding with the help of lan juniors @pleasehelpmesobad

FOUND! White Flag by incendir (T, 37k, WangXian, NHS/NZH, OMC/ OMC) from the Resolutions series by incendir

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11. Hello! Can you find a fic for me where wangxian want their own biological baby and find another lady to surrogate for them with the baby ending up being wei ying's and the lady's, and adopted into the lanclan by weiying and lanzhan?

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12. Pleasee!! help me find this fic. Sob okay so nsfw ask

Basically wangxian as usual is having loud af sex and literally everyone knows this now lqr is like why tf are they so loud. Then he decides that he's tired of them and goes and gets married to some man and literally at his wedding. Anyways, he finds out how good sex can be and wangxian is like, we can be louder than that @thatperson0-0

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13. oh my god i think i'm losing my mind... i just read this fic a few weeks ago, but i can't seem to find it anywhere!

wwx is a female in this and it's from lwj's pov, it wasn't finished i'm sure but idk if they decided to finish it in these weeks. they both go on a night hunt (?) and wwx gets cursed (?) or is hit with something and to help with that they both have sex. lwj confesses during it.

then later when they both are returning to cloud recess wwx asks lwj to forget about it but lwj is like 'i want to marry you'. wwx dismisses that saying 'you don't have to be responsible for this'. but lwj tries to persuade her but wwx keeps doding it and lwj thinks she doesn't want to be with him.

i really hope this work didn't go into hidden ones or is deleted :(

thank you so much for your work.

FOUND? ❤️ We'd roll and fall in green Series by x_los (G/E, 26k, WangXian, Gender Changes, Always a Different Sex, Accidental Marriage, Marriage Festivals, Holidays, Awkwardness, Fist Fights, Pining, Crushes, Sisters, Episode 7, mentioned canon-typical domestic abuse, mentioned canon-typical sexual violence (implication of minors), (not depicted just discussed as possibility), First Kiss, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Politics, School, Horror, Murder Mystery, Road Trips, Bitchy LWJ, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Competence Kink, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Self-Sacrifice, Battle Couple)

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14. I lost a fanfiction and I hope someone here can help me ;-;

It was wangxian set to marry with Wei Ying leaving the Jiang Sect before meeting Lan Zhan. He kept meeting Jiang Disciples send to spy on him. I’m afraid I don’t remember anything else :( @kanrax-blog

FOUND? Bitter Endings; New Beginnings by miixz (T, 7k, wangxian, WN & WWX, major character death, ABO, Arranged Marriage, Unrequited Love, Stalking, Not JC Friendly, Unrequited JC/WWX, Alpha JC, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, No War au, Wēn Remnants Live, Brothers WWX & WN, Light Angst, Fluff, Falling In Love, endgame wangxian)

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15. Hi! For fic finder I am looking for a fic which is Cloud Recesses study arc au. In it WWX grew up either as a disciple of Baoshan Sanren or his parents were alive and he travelled with them; ie he did not grow up in Lotus Pier. He hears about Cloud Recesses and tries to sneak in to explore but Wangji catches him. It happens to be the start of the lectures so WWX pretends he is part of the Jiang group and Yanli and Cheng play along. WWX goes on to charm everyone and is oodles above his classmates in knowledge and sword skills. I can’t remember how the story ends, whether it is just the lecture arc or if it goes into the Sunshot Campaign. Please help, thank you!

FOUND! Become Tomorrow by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 39k, wangxian, BSSR/LY, Alternate Universe, a story full of tragic pining gays, and one chaotic gremlin, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, WWX is BSSR’s disciple)

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16. I am looking for a modern fic where Lan Wangji ran a bakery and Wei Wuxian was a doctor, or possibly vice versa. The doctor ran in before his shift to grab some treats for his nursing staff and I think it was before the bakery opening hours but the baker let them in anyway. The doctor began to stop by more frequently and possibly taste tested for the baker (an excuse to hang around). Would love to read this again, thank you! @gloriousclotpole

FOUND! crystalized by gusuvibes (M, 25k, WangXian, Modern AU, Bakery, Pining, Getting Together, Baker LWJ, Nurse WWX, Zizhen in a STARRING ROLE, Bunnies With Bad Names, Elaborate Descriptions of Delicious Baked Goods, Frottage, Eventual Smut, SexyBakingTime)

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17. Hiiiii. Please can you help me find a fic. I dont remember much of it - just vague parts.

It was a time travel fic in which wangxian went back to their teenage years and were trying to set things right. I remember 1 part in which wangxian was trying to decide what to do with small mxy and wwx was against bringing him to cloud recesses. I believe it was because he was insecure about having mxy close to lwj when in their future, lwj was married to/ intimate with mxy's body.

Please see if you can find it or anything similar 🙏

FOUND?🔒 Here With Me by iamwish (T, 58k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon-Typical Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Bad Parent YZY, POV WWX, POV LWJ, POV JC, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Has PTSD, and also depression sometimes, Unreliable Narrator) There's a bit in the last chapter (of the first fic in the series) where WWX remembers MXY & rules out bringing him to the Lan as an option due to awkwardness, & sends him to WQ instead

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18. Hi there, request for the fic finder? Lost the tab I had it on and can’t remember the name. Only made it to chapter two.

It was Huaisang POV? First chapter was Wen Ning helping him sneak outta the Wen Indoctrination place, second chapter was Huaisang trying to break Wen Ning out of the Jin Basement/jail. Idk what happened in chapter three, lost the tab before I could read it.

Distinctly remember Huaisang whacking a dude over the head with a table in chap 1.

Cheers :)

FOUND? Jailbreaking by CullenBlue (T, 21k, WN & NHS, Canon Compliant, POV NHS, NHS Is A Little Shit, Cinnamon Roll WN, Fierce Corpse WN, Ghost General WN, References to Heavens Official’s Blessing, References to The Scum Villain’s Self Saving System, NHS insulting the Wen Clan’s taste in interior Decorating, Mentions of Murder, WN made a friend by talking about his childhood trauma, BAMF WN, Panic Attacks, mentions of gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Violence in the Name of Comedy, Trauma, Is NHS taking anything seriously? who knows, Bromance)

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19. hello, this is a ff request. i think it's a royalty au, might have been an ongoing series while i read it. i remember that wangxian get married, wwx births twins, but falls unconscious/ill after giving birth. i may be mixing fics up, but i think one of the children is a-yuan, while the other is an OC who is born with weak health. there are discussions for moving him to yunmeng as an older child due to the warmer weather. i think wq married nmj and moved to qinghe, jc and nhs are in yunmeng, and jyl and jzx are in lanling. mxy, whom wwx rescued and "adopted", follows wwx to gusu when he married lwj. again, idk if all of this is the same fic, or if i have mixed them up, but i hope this rings a bell for someone, many thanks!

FOUND! Lost in Diplomacy by Subtleladybird (M, 90k, WangXian, Historical, Royalty, Imperial Pair, Historical Inaccuracy, Arranged Marriage, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Strangers to Lovers, Harem, Politics, Angst, Mpreg, Miscommunication, Brotherly Love, Not really a harem, more like one spoiled non-rival, Time Skips, Pregnancy, Violence, Childbirth, Miscarriage, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, Married Couple)

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20. Hi FicFinder! This is my first time requesting for a fic to be found, so I'm sorry if I'm bad at describing TvT

The fic I'm looking for is basically JGY spikes the Lan's tea during the Sunshot Campaign, and it results in JC and JYL thinking that WWX got r*ped (raped) by LWJ. It was found consensual in the end, tho after getting WQ to look at it. Also, there's JGY redemption iirc?

Thx sm <333 @diablolunaticofthemoon

FOUND! The Teapot Plot by ToxicAngel13 (M, 52k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Misunderstandings, Plots, protective Jiang siblings, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Idiots in Love, Damn Jins, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Pre-Burial Mounds, Potential for M-Preg, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Idiots Everywhere, LWJ ’s Biting Kink, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Protective LWJ, Protective WQ, JGS is his own warning, Protective JYL)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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fbfh · 1 year

Text

busy busy busy (but never too busy for you) - dad!tony + stark!reader

wc: 1.5k

pairing: dad!tony + (gn) stark!reader

genre: minor hurt/mostly comfort

warnings: needing to spend time with your parent, crying, emotional comfort, if you have daddy issues this one's gonna hurt lol

summary: after traveling with your dad on business, you find yourself missing spending time with him. Tony can't have that, of course.

song rec: walking the wire - imagine dragons

a/n: first fic finished post top surgery!!!!!!! the next few weeks posts will probs be shorter until I finish chapter 1 of the next multichapter fic lol. Also if I didn't say it recently I love you guys, thank you so much for all your love and support <333 PS if you need more personalized dad!tony.... character.ai works well for that lmao

tags @afidiofobia @lizziebitch33 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @dustyinkpages @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @liberty-barnes @followingthefanfiction @youkissedareaderinthedark @girlfriendwhoseawitch @mrscarolscaramoucheplease

You climb into the car, settling into the plush leather seat as Happy closes the door next to you. You set down your bag and try to get your seatbelt buckled while your dad sits next to you, wrapping up a phone call.

“No, no. I don’t care. I said-” He stops, listening to someone on the other end for a moment. He’s clearly annoyed. He’s had to deal with people simultaneously trying to kiss his ass and tell him what to do all week, and you can tell he’s getting tired of it.

“Throw as many conferences as you want, they’ll all be Stark-less. Throw a whole party, while you’re at it- you know what? No, don’t do that. I might actually show up to that.” He mutters the last part, something that would normally make you laugh. He glances over at you, but you’re still fussing with your seatbelt.

“Alright, how about this. I’ll refer you to Stark Industries CEO, Pepper Potts.” The person on the other end is already objecting, but your dad couldn’t care less at this point. He’s said what he needed to say, and this idiot doesn’t want to listen. He continues to wrap up this disastrous phone call as the car pulls into the street, and starts driving you to the airport.

“She’ll help you get this sorted out.”

He hangs up without saying goodbye, then looks over at you. As soon as he does, he knows something’s wrong. You’re not yourself. You’re staring at the bottom of the seat in front of you instead of out the window, or going on your phone. Usually you can’t wait for him to finish business calls, sometimes texting him in the middle of them - texts he’s always happy to receive. You’ve rescued him from pointless conference calls with those texts more times than he can count. You always have something to tell him or update him on, whether that be the latest social media drama, friend group drama, the show you’re watching on Netflix, or even Avengers memes you find online. You always have something delightful you’re excited to share with him without even having to try, and it lights up his day each time. Except now, with you staring into space.

He hands you the coffee he got you, taking his out of the cardboard holder that had been resting on his lap until now. You look over briefly, accepting the drink.

“Thanks,” you say lightly, but there’s something in your tone that tips him off.

“You okay, kid?”

You pause sipping your drink, wondering how he figured you out so fast. He’s your dad, you suppose. That’s kind of his job. You thought you’d been doing an okay job at masking the hollow sadness that’s been eroding you from the inside out all weekend. It doesn’t happen too often, and you tried everything you could to distract yourself until it stopped working. Until now.

“Is it school? Boys? Girls?” He asks when you don’t answer right away. There’s a note of humor to his voice, but there’s also a sincerity, and you know that even if it was school or boys or girls that he would help you through it. “C’mon, you gotta keep your old man up to date on all the tea. The hot goss.”

You let out a weepy chuckle, tracing the lid of your drink. He’s always the first to know when your Starbucks order changes, and he always knows exactly the perfect drink to get you without even having to ask. It’s a little thing, but it makes you feel even worse. You’ve spent the whole weekend trying to ignore how much you’ve been missing your dad, missing spending one on one time with him that’s not in between meetings or over a late dinner. He works so hard, and he has so much on his plate, but he always makes time for you.

That’s why he started taking you along on business trips like this, because you both hated being away from each other. Usually it’s fine, usually you’re off exploring whatever city you’re in, going shopping, or generally finding somewhat entertaining ways to pass the time that you can tell him about next time you catch up. It’s usually really fun, too. It’s just when it gets busy like this, you think, when he has all these meetings and you have all your stuff that you’re juggling that you start to get like this.

“No, no,” you say softly, rubbing the bottom of your eyes when they start to get misty. “Nothing like that…”

Tony listens intently in the silence that follows, waiting to see if you have more to share with him. The smell of his cologne is paternal and comforting, a familiar reassurance that floats around him and feels like a hug.

“I just miss you, I guess…” you start, speaking your mind before you can even think. Your dad has that effect on you, it’s so easy to share how you feel and what you’re excited for or worried about that it feels automatic sometimes, like it’s impossible not to. Tony feels his heart break as he realizes what a toll all the recent traveling has taken on you, both of you. He pulls you in for a tight hug. You feel the tears you’ve been fighting start to spill, Tony rubs your back reassuringly and it finally feels safe enough to.

He tries not to dwell on the fact that you got to feel like this in the first place, tries not to let that voice tell him he should have noticed how you felt sooner, that he’s a terrible dad, because he knows inside that he’s not. He’s not his father, and he sure as hell won’t make those mistakes. He could let himself worry about how he’s doing with you, let it keep him up at night - hell, it still does some nights, even when he doesn’t want it to. It’s been that way with you since he became your dad. Instead of worrying about that, he does what he does best. He takes action.

“You are such a sweet kid.” He states, pressing a kiss on your forehead when you pull away. He brushes away the tears spilling down your cheeks. “Unfortunately, sometimes being a genius-billionaire-superhero-superdad requires some meetings and boring stuff. But don’t think I forgot about the most important part of that.”

The dad part. He doesn’t even have to say it, you both know that’s where he’s going with this. You nod along, sighing as your breathing starts to slow back down.

“But you’re right. It has gotten to be too much lately.”

He reaches into the small mini fridge sitting between the driver’s and passenger seats, crisply cold and stocked with both your favorite drinks. He grabs a water bottle, opening it and handing it to you.

“How about this? We’ll spend the whole plane ride back watching movies together - or that show you were telling me about, the one with- god, what’s his name…” He tries to remember the name of that actor you’ve been talking about the last few days, and you chuckle, supplying the answer. He snaps his fingers in recognition, repeating it back to you.

“Yes. That’s the one. We’ll watch all those movies, and you brainstorm what we’re going to do this weekend. Dream big, kid. I’ll have Pepper help you organize the whole thing.”

Your eyes widen in excitement, and you hug him tightly again.

“Thanks, dad.” You smile. You really are both long overdue for some quality time together, and Tony knows if he has to attend one more meeting, he’s going to lose his mind. The cave he built his first arc reactor in was more interesting than some of the people he’s spoken to recently.

“I love you, kid.”

He looks at you fondly for a moment, basking in pride at what a wonderful, amazing person you’ve become. It’s not time for him to get all sappy on you with the dad stuff, not quite yet, so before he can, he grabs a fluffy throw blanket and spreads it across you.

“Now, we’ve got a big weekend ahead of us, so get some shut eye. I’ll wake you when we get to the airport.”

Right before you start to doze off, you hear him on the phone with Pepper, filling her in on the plan.

“Alright, so they’ve got about 25 more minutes of Stark business time, then I’m off the grid till monday.” Pepper says something about how they’re not going to like that, and Tony laughs, glancing over at you sleeping peacefully. “They don’t have to.”

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hanleiacelebration · 4 months

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Han/Leia Appreciation Week 2024

WE'RE BACK, BABY! "Wait, what's happening, wasn't this in August??" you might wonder. Based on your feedback, we decided to host this and (probably) future editions of Han/Leia Appreciation Week earlier in the year. July seemed like the better choice, given that it's a vacation period in both hemispheres!

This year we're also giving you the prompts over a month in advance, so you have plenty of time to plan and create!

Han/Leia Appreciation Week was an event originally hosted at @han-leia-solo between 2016-2019, but for the past three years, we've taken up the mantle here at @hanleiacelebration 😊

💖 How does Han/Leia Appreciation Week work?

The event will run from July 14th to July 20th, and there will be two different prompts each day that creators can fulfill with: fanfic, fanart, gifsets, graphics, fanvids, headcanons, crafts, playlists, rec lists. You’re encouraged to tag your posts with #hanleiaweek2024 so we can reblog them! After the week is over, we’ll share a masterlist with links to the works.

You can show your appreciation in many ways; however, please keep in mind that it has to be a creation of yours of some sort, e.g. don’t repost other people’s fanart, gifs, or unedited pictures. Rec lists should include a link to the original source both for fanfic and fanart (more on this after the cut).

🎆 The prompts

Sunday 7/14: Tradition / Ceremony

Monday 7/15: Braids & Bloodstripes (hair or clothing) / Home planet

Tuesday 7/16: AU / Canon divergence

Wednesday 7/17: Force / Belief

Thursday 7/18: Favorite scene / Favorite quote

Friday 7/19: Meeting / Escape

Saturday 7/20: Free day!

You can use only one of the daily prompts, combine both, reinterpret them, or skip the day if you can’t think of anything. If you’re not able to post on the same day for a prompt, you’re still encouraged to share it through the week—just don’t post works for a certain prompt before the day corresponding to that prompt.

💠 💠 💠

FAQs and Rules under the cut - please read!

💕 Can I post my work to another site and share the link on Tumblr?

Yes! This is a good option for people who might want to create explicit art that could be taken down on Tumblr, write a long fic or multichapter, or make videos or playlists.

💕 Does it have to be a new creation? Can I finish and post a WIP?

It has to be something that has never been posted anywhere else before, so finishing and sharing a WIP is okay! If it doesn’t fit any of the prompts, you can share it on Free Day.

💕 Is this event open to all ratings?

Yes! Just remember to use a “Read more” cut if you’re posting the whole work on Tumblr, and to add a note at the top if your work is rated Mature or Explicit, as well as if it has any major trigger warnings, so all folks can safely browse through the entries.

💕 Are there any length or quality requirements?

There’s no min. or max. length for fanfic or quality level for art, but please note that AI-generated works won’t be accepted. For gifsets, there’s a minimum of two gifs (that must be made by you!). For playlists, there’s a minimum of five songs. For rec lists of fic or fanart, there’s also a minimum of five recs. Some more questions you might have about rec lists:

- How do I share someone else’s art without posting a picture? You might post a thumbnail that crops a preview of the piece; if the piece has a title, you might use that; you might describe it; or you might say something like “this piece by [artist]”, and link to the source.

- What if I found a fanart on Google? Try to find the original source using reverse search image.

- What if I can’t still find it, can I just say “credit to the artist”? In that case, please just don’t share the piece.

- What if I know the artist but don’t have a link to the original source? Naming the artist and linking back to where you found it is okay, in that case.

💕 Can I write for canon/Legends and include other pairings?

All canons, time periods, headcanons and AUs are welcome, and you’re allowed to include side pairings, except for R*eylo. However, keep in mind that this is a Han/Leia appreciation week - at the risk of sounding repetitive, works should focus on appreciating Han and Leia’s relationship!

💕 What’s the time zone for the event?

Please don’t worry too much about time zones: when we say “day”, we always mean “whenever that day is for you in your part of the world”. IE: if it’s Monday for you, you can post your work for the Monday prompt.

💠 💠 💠

Do you have any other questions? Don’t hesitate to send us an ask or to message one of the mods: @lajulie24 @hanorganaas and @otterandterrier

We can’t wait to see what you all create!

#hanleia #hanleiaweek2024 #han x leia #han solo #leia organa #star wars events #swfandomevents #swedit #swcreators #mod post

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infinitywrites · 1 year

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I Didn't Expect You ~ Conrad Fisher

(Part 2) (Masterlist)

gif credit @henryofwales

synopsis: Y/N never expected it to be the summer that everything changed. Conrad, Belly and Steven were all dealing with the consequences of recent break ups while Jeremiah's wasn't acting like himself. Susannah was undergoing treatment that provided unpredictable health results and kept her loved ones on the edge of tragedy. Had they drained the well of the magic of Cousin's beach? Or could something new fulfil it again?

warnings: multichapter slow burn, warnings will update with every chapter, timeline is post SEASON 2 with changes, Susannah is sick, Belly is heartbroken, Jere is bitter, Conrad is struggling, everyone swears, Laurel/Cleveland, Belly and YN briefly critique their bodies but the focus is ultimately positive

word count: 2,275

___________________________________________

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it too soon to do this yet?

'Cause I know that it's delicate

Isn't it, isn't it, isn't it?

This summer there was no one to greet us when we pulled up at the beach house. It was quiet but the beauty of Cousin's Beach and the house itself was as overwhelming on first glance as it had always been. Maybe the sky seemed filled with a few more clouds, darker even without someone to remind the boys that the Conklin-Parks had arrived. Either way, Steven and Belly didn't seem to notice and were already grabbing their bags and bickering about who had their house key handy.

"Do you think we're the first ones here?" I asked as I walked up slowly to the property to look for signs of life.

Belly was by your side in moments, "No, Jere said he was picking up Rosie's for lunch. He should be here somewhere. They were supposed to get here a little early to make sure Susannah was all set up with…everything." I just nodded and watched her walk to the door with the key. It wasn't surprising that she didn't mention Conrad.

Belly had already vented her nerves about coming at all after her breakup with Conrad at Prom. I didn't blame her and assured her I'd be right by her side no matter what happened or what was said. Belly and Conrad grew up together just like the rest of us and if no one else would make sure a failed romance wasn't going to ruin that forever, I definitely was. They hadn't talked since and I promised I'd help her fix it and I would. Conrad would be reasonable about it whether he liked it or not. I was always a fixer, the Mom friend if you will, and there was no reason this could be fixed.

Last summer when I saw it brewing between them I couldn't help but worry. Of course, I wanted Belly to have what she'd always wanted but could Conrad really return her feelings of adoration and worship the same way? Apparently yes, for the six months they were together at least. But it had been three months since the breakup and I knew I had to do everything I could to refocus the group into supporting each other. There had been too much drifting and it broke my heart. Despite life changes causing difficulty in the planning of it all, everyone had agreed to come back to Cousin's for the 4th at Susannah's request so that was a great start. She would have insisted on the whole summer if she'd had the energy but it was time to accept that some things would just never be the same again. We were barely children anymore and the summers were going to change.

"Y/N! Come on, Jere's got apple cinnamon for you!" Steven called out to me from the open front door.

As soon as I entered the house, the smell washed over me, my shoulders sagging in relief and the comfort of finally being here and smellling that smell brought me. The greetings were quieter when I walked into the familiar kitchen full of people I loved most, just like pulling up to the house but that was okay too. Jeremiah squeezed me just as tight as he always had even if he didn't shout my name and lift me off your feet. This wasn't even the whole gang of people who'd been through hell and back the last year but we were all here. All coming back for Susannah's favourite holiday.

The pressure I put on this last summer before I moved halfway across the country to start my freshman year at Stanford wasn't fair to anyone, especially myself but it felt like the end of an era. With Susannah's health changing everyday, I wasn't sure if it could ever be the same again. Was the magic gone? And if so, could it ever come back again? The test would be when the house was full and the party planning was in full force. Susannah would put us all to work and everything would feel normal again even just for a little while.

"What the--Ohmigod!" I spun around and used my hands to block the cold water drops spraying all over me. "Fuck you too, cretin," I said glaring at the shit-eating grin standing in black surfing gear that awaited me.

Conrad has snuck up behind me during small talk and shook his shaggy soaked hair into the back of my exposed neck. "Always a pleasure Y/N, " he finally said, nodding without looking in my direction again and focusing on greeting the other new arrivals.

I was happy to see a short but sweet acknowledgement between him and Belly and she didn't even look like she wanted to die after so maybe this wouldn't be as hard as I thought. Laurel showed up last, announcing her presence at the door and warning everyone not to embarrass her in front of Cleveland. It was a surprise but a happy one and I knew instantly that Susannah was going to lose her mind in the best way. Conrad mentioned that she would sleep until dinner around 6pm so don't be late.

The boys made plans that didn't interest me or Belly and just as I thought they were leaving I saw Jeremiah pause and look at the guys with intent. Belly was always quick on the uptake and tried to protest but the tradition held strong. The boys celebrated a successful throw that had poor Belly flailing in the air so long it felt like slo mo and this time none of them fell for her tricks and got pulled into the pool after her. Not even me, though I should have when I felt bad for a moment, held my hand out and walked towards the edge of the pool in her direction. Conrad was quicker and scooped me right up off my feet from behind, just in time to escape Belly's trap as I gasped at the realization.

"You wouldn't! I didn't throw you in!"

"Yeah, and you didn't try stop them either!" But even in her feigned anger she was chuckling as she swam to the ladder.

After the shock left my body, I joined the boys in hysterical laughter. Conrad was still holding me tight but he must have lost his balance as I crashed to the ground on top of him. He was still in a fit, only uttering the occasional "ow" which spurred on more giggles that infected everyone else. I got myself together before he did and had to pry his surprisingly strong, wiry arms from my waist to be able to stand again.

"My god, you're like a world's tallest spider monkey." I was trying to give him shit but but the sight of him giggling on the ground made him look like a sweet toddler.

That helped sober him a little, "You love it...besides I saved your ass. You should be thinking up ways to thank me." I only caught his smirk after brushing the grass off my clothes but it was enough to stop me in my tracks and stare him down.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that." This was ridiculous and everyone was listening to the two of us– but no, we'd always done this. This was the root of the relationship I'd always had with the oldest Fisher brother. He riled me up and I gave him shit. Simple. "Let me know if you have any special requests," I said over my shoulder as I headed back inside.

"Good idea! I'll text you!" He was yelling now, the idiot, but it was still making the boys laugh so the final word would be Conrad's this time. I could have sworn I'd heard him mumble about how uptight I could be and I was rolling my eyes as I met Belly in the hallway with an exasperated smile that she shared.

Conrad Fisher and I had never been the closest of the group, always seeming to piss each other off in one way or another as kids. Susannah had said that our personalities clashed and that it was a great challenge to overcome as we matured. Anyone would say that both of us were still working on the maturely overcoming it part. It's not like I thought he was a bad guy; he was my friend no matter what, someone who knew me better than most without even trying. If I set a hard boundary he was the first to listen, respect it and make sure everyone else did too while also being the one to lay into me if I screwed up somehow or rib me to death for acting stupid. It was infuriating at worst and addictive at best so I never judged Belly's undying admiration. He was always the leader of the group as the oldest and that came with a certain power that I later realized was also responsibility. Sometimes he knew what I needed even before I did. It was eerie, that sixth sense he had. He was actually pretty damn good at taking care of everyone so sometimes I even let him take care of me too. If Conrad was the fearless leader then Belly was the baby and while he made it look easy taking care of everyone else, I always knew how to take extra special care of her.

The two of you headed upstairs to the room you shared. It originally had a double bed for Belly but Susannah quickly changed it to two singles side by side the second summer you visited. Belly and I liked our tradition of unpacking first; it felt like being at our second home where everything had a place.

"So...how was it?"

I could hear Belly rolling her eyes before she even spoke. "Okay, it could have been worse. I thought he wouldn't even speak to me."

"Why wouldn't he speak to you?"

"Because the last thing he said to me was that he could never give me what I wanted and that I deserved better." She was frustrated as she said it and I couldn't help but sigh.

"I mean, there are worse things to say when you're breaking up with someone..."

"Y/N!"

"What? I'm sorry! It doesn't mean you aren't allowed to be hurt, I'm just saying at least he wasn't a jerk about it." I shrugged and put my pile of new pajamas in the bottom drawer.

Belly paused and turned to look at me, "He said he was sorry it happened that night but he didn't want to be angry at us anymore. Not even me, Y/N, but us."

I got up and went to stroke her arm in a soothing rhythm, "It wasn't fair how it happened but you said you could feel it coming."

Her eyes start to shine with unshed tears, "I thought it was Susannah...I didn't think it could just be me..." When her pretty brown eyes closed the tears ran down her cheeks but she didn't break down, she didn't sob. She just took a deep, steadying breath as her body shifted underneath my hand.

"Hey, it wasn't you, it was him. Look at you, it couldn't have been you, you're stunning!" I shook her shoulders as her lips turned up at the corners. "Absolute perfection! Come here and see." I guided Belly towards the full length mirror on the corner of the room and planted her right in front of it. "Now, I know you thought Conrad was Prince Charming and you'd live happily ever after but fairytales aren't real. But this volleyball bod is." I smacked her butt to make my point and snap her out of her gloomy daze.

"Oh! You're so ridiculous they need to invent a new word–" Hearing her giggle was always a joy because Belly giggled without a hint of shame.

"I'm not finished! I know a breakup can kill your confidence a bit and I need you to look at yourself and really see what you're bringing to the table this hot girl summer."

Even through a big smile she shook her head, "God no, you are so embarrassing."

"I mean, come on, tight ass already acknowledged, newish boobs that are perfectly perky as ever and the prettiest smile on the face of the planet! You can have any boy you want, Isabel Conklin!"

Belly's smile fell a bit as and twisted and turned in the mirror. "You don't think my shoulders are kinda...broad?"

I hung my head as the patience exited my body with a slump. "You're actually insane. Some of us have real problems like cellulite on our thighs and an ass that doesn't fit in most jeans."

"Oh, shut up! Steven told me Frankie and those guys call you 'the ass that won't quit'."

"Belly, I'm not sure that's a compliment." I didn't hate the nickname as long as they didn't say it to my face but I still wasn't sure it meant good things.

"You're delulu, Y/N. Okay, we gotta stop. You're right. Hot girl summer with me and my cousin in Cousin's!" She grabbed my hand and started shifting her feet like we were about to have an impromptu dance party.

I covered my face with my hands and stifled a giggle at the silly phrase, "I fucking hate when you start that shit..." And just like I expected, as my chuckle became a belly laugh, my baby cousin turned on the Bluetooth speaker in my room and we danced out all the pent up heartbreak, nerves, grief and leftover stress and sent it back home where it belonged.

___________________________________________

Author's note: I promise there is so much Conrad and romance coming up even if it wasn't much in this chapter! I hope you stick with me if you saw the potential. So much of this story was inspired by fics I've read in the last few weeks and this is my thank you! Reply with comments and let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist. If you'd like to ask me about any upcoming chapter warnings you wanna be warned of ahead of time (angst? 18+ smut?) then come visit my blog with any questions and I'll be happy to answer!

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x you #tsitp fanfic #tsitp conrad #the summer i turned pretty #team conrad #Spotify

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is-this-even-relatable · 2 months

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A Rising Phantom

———

Summary: danny died, and no one knows. He is a full ghost, and only thanks to his dual obsessions can he “live” a normal life and pretend that nothing happened.

I aim to make this a multichaptered fic! Hopefully, the first fic I post on AO3!

HEADCANONS/TROPES/TAGS:

no one knows! AU

full ghost! danny

eventual everlasting trio

dual obsessions inspired by this post, which are protection (Phantom) and space (Fenton)

my own headcanon: danny's death is inevitable, a single point in time that cannot be avoided or changed.

———

Danny died on a Saturday.

He was too young to have been left alone; any other house would’ve be fine, but everyone in that town knew, even then, that the Fentons' house was to be avoided by a wide berth.

His parents had rushed out in a frustrated fit, leaving him and Jazz by themselves for the weekend, just like so many before. They were always an afterthought to their parents, long before he was 14.

Danny didn’t intend to go down to the lab that night. But Jazz was out with her friend Kyle, and he was bored. And something down there called to him, though he didn’t know it.

He didn’t know that forces beyond his comprehension were leading to this point, this singularity.

If Danny had known the fate in store for him, he would have begged his parents for them to stay that night, or take him with them. But he didn't know, he couldn't have known... because that's how it was always going to be.

He didn’t know that a man with a clock in his chest, who changed between ages in the blink of an eye, was watching as he walked down those lonely steps.

He didn’t know, as he pulled on a white hazmat suit hand-sewn just for him, far too flimsy for what it was meant to protect him against, that a sentient dimension was pushing against the veil, straining for him.

He didn’t know, as he stepped through the gaping metal maw, that it had already called his name, and death had claimed it.

And afterwards, while he curled up on the cold basement floor, clutching his chest for a pulse, he still did not know that even if he had known... he would have had no choice but to do the same.

Danny died when he turned the portal on, alone in his parents’ lab.

Standing inside, fifty million Watts of electricity coursed from his palm to his heart, searing its path into his skin. It had no exit route. It cooked him from the inside, lighting all of his nerves on fire, and doused him in an infinite realm’s worth of dimensional energy. After what seemed like hours of screaming, panicking, burning- he somehow managed to crawl out of the portal.

He died then, lying flat in front of the machine that ended him, as the intense pain faded into a dull throb that replaced the beating that used to be in his chest.

And as he sat up, feeling both sore and feather-light, he looked down upon his body, and realized that he had died that day, and he was not coming back.

Danny panicked. And he did the only thing he could do. He decided to run away, afraid of what he was, confused and scared and feeling very not himself.

But the main anxiety that drove him to hide his accident was a rather juvenile one.

…He was afraid that his parents would be upset that he had gone into the lab without their permission.

He had messed with their stuff, and turned something on… something he definitely shouldn’t have.

He had just opened a portal to a realm full of the very things that kept him from sleeping at night, of “unfeeling monsters” that his parents had drilled into him about for years.

A portal to ghosts… that were now free to come through.

That thought made something inside him solidify, and a low hum began to emanate from him as he worried about his family. About the ghosts and the portal and how they were going to manage without him…

He couldn’t just leave like this. Not when he was responsible. He couldn’t let a whole realm of monsters hurt his family. At that thought, dread filled him, and that same something inside his chest ached.

But it occurred to him that he still had to leave. Not just at the thought of his parents stumbling in on his body.

No, it was about him. For he was one of them now, wasn’t he? A ghost. And he was a monster now, too. Despite not feeling like one. Despite knowing that there was clearly something wrong with what he had been told and what he knew was intimately true of himself in this new form.

But something inside him whispered at him that he couldn’t take the chance, if he did turn into a monster. He couldn’t let himself hurt his family.

So with fears on his back and a tingle fading from his fingertips, Danny pulled himself up onto unsteady feet. He took his body outside, to the woods where no one would know. And he buried it, alone, surrounded by trees and the sky.

He sat there, at his fresh grave, and cried.

Holding his arms around himself tight, he mourned the loss of warmth, of blood pumping and his heartbeat, so loud in its absence.

Surrounded by nothing but silence, he mourned that he’d never made close friends, nor really had the chance.

Looking up at the stars, he mourned that he could never fulfill his dream of being an astronaut.

He mourned for himself because no one else could.

And as his last cry petered off into the night, the sun broke the horizon.

A different something tugged at his chest, and he let it pull without resistance, worn ragged as he was.

And he was grateful he did. For a soothing light washed over him and transformed him into something similar, but not quite as he was Before.

But he felt warmth, and he felt a pseudo-beat in his chest, sluggish as it was. And suddenly he realized that although he was dead, he was alive in a different way.

He was still there.

He didn’t have to give up on life.

He was not going to be a monster.

Danny walked back home. He washed the dirt away from under his fingernails. He swept the lab until it looked like no one had been there. Minus the massive swirling vortex.

And when Jazz got home from her sleepover, Danny hugged her with a smile.

He was going to be fine.

They would all be fine, he would make sure of it.

#danny phantom #dp #no one knows!au #dual obsessions!au #full ghost!danny #full ghost!au #no one knows #dual obsessions #protection obsession #space obsession #is-this-even-relatable writes #I took “Danny died on a saturday” from Atiya_Blackcharm on AO3 in their fic “Wait I’m a What?”#they headcanon he died on a saturday because that’s the day of the week that the show aired #I am adopting that headcanon #ALSO PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT MY HEADCANON OF INEVITABILITY #I wanna yap about it #also I looked up how many watts of electricity it would take to power a small town in the USA and that’s where I got 50 million watts from #That’s like… the upper limit tho #it couldve just been 5 million watts #but I thought hey the first 10 million can be the power for the whole town #and the remaining 40 million watts is the power required to punch a hole in dimensions #the fentons actually stole so much power from the power grid its insanely illegal they should be in jail #forget osha send em straight to the slammer they’re stealing taxpayer leckie

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liesmyth · 6 months

Note

top 5 TLT fic recs

OK, I've been very bad at keeping up with the fic tag so all my recs are a bit old but listen. they fuck.

the soul that seeketh him by bittybelle — Ostensively a fic about John Gaius's slut era but one of THE definitive fics in the fandom to me. I want to eat it I want it tattoed over my ribcage.

People, it turns out, are horny for depression. Or maybe it’s that people are horny for depressed gods. Or maybe enduring betrayal on a literally cosmic scale makes people hotter. Or maybe the death drive is real, and the many-tongued abyss’s breath is still thick in your hair, and it makes everyone want to move closer and take a big, deep whiff. Or maybe you’re God, and they’re scared. Or: John Gaius meets his daughter, remembers the women he left behind, and deals poorly with being the male god of a universe in which the divine is essentially feminine.

crawl home to her by Raxheim — I'm limiting myself to one Rax fic only, because this is a top five, but it's a struggle. Highly rec their whole account

In which Gideon the First finds Wake, kills her, and then absconds with her child. And in the shadows of his soul, Pyrrha and Wake fight for control of the bomb.

and my mouth isn't filled with blood, it's victory wine by arbitrarily — also known as the fic where Ianthe gets her eye smashed while roleplaying as Alecto during sex, and it's not even my favourite thing about the fic. It's unhinged (complimentary)

You like forcing yourself to do gross things. This is called having character. Ianthe gets haunted, makes a power play, and smokes a cigarette.

High But Very Drear by honorarycassowary — this is such a lovely look at the Ninth after Harrow's departure. It's slightly canon divergent (written pre NtN) but I'm obsessed with Aiglamene's portrayal in it

Aiglamene and Crux receive the five hundred ancient dead gifted by the Emperor for the renewal of the Ninth, and also do something that could be construed as mourning.

and I'll leave once I figure out / how to pay for my own life too by oriflamme — multichapter Harrow Nova AU that remains one of my favourite chaptered works in the fandom. I'm absolutely obsessed with the Harrow & Pyrrha and Harrow & G1deon dynamics in it

Harrow Nova wakes up haunted. That's not the problem. The problem is that her dead necromancer won't stop narrating their life for five minutes.

#Anonymous #askbox games #tlt fic #fic recs #tlt

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yourmomsemogarlicbread · 5 months

Text

Club Lights And Sex On The Beach

PART 1

Pairings: Josh Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: 18+, alcohol, drinking, one-night stands/hookups, smut, penetrative sex, drunken sex (still consensual), protected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), afab reader, feminine terms of endearment used, pretty much a female reader but you could get away with it not imagining the reader as a woman.

Summary: After a fun night at the club you run into a handsome stranger and his friends. What happens when you end up in his bed?

Authors Note: This is a multichapter series!!!!!!! This is only part 1 but we are gonna get into a full-fledged story pretty soon. I will be posting parts 2 and 3 later tonight because they are both pretty short. If you choose this could be read as a one-shot but I strongly recommend following the series. I hope you enjoy it!!! also, remember that my requests are always open!

you can also read on AO3 here.

masterlist

PART 2 & 3 out now.

Part 1

The lights came down harshly on your skin, illuminating the dim room just a tad more. The club is decently packed, and a small crowd of people at the beginning of the night quickly turns into a bustling scene full of college girls looking for either a good time or a quick fuck, either way, it’s still fun. Then there were the rowdy frat boys either being annoying or harassing girls at the bar, either way, they were douchebags.

One type stood out to you though, it was a small group of guys, but they were different. You couldn’t help but notice these men, they were talking with each other at their fancy booth in the back of the club. There were 4 of them, all devilishly handsome you had to admit, but one of them shined particularly bright. You saw him frequent the bar throughout the night, until now.

You feel a force bump into you from the side, not hard but forceful enough for you to spill a little bit of your drink on the bar. “Oh I’m sorry sweetheart are you ok” you hear from beside you, a charming voice guiding you. And there he is, your mystery man you’ve had your eye on all night.

“Oh yeah I’m fine don’t worry about it.” You nearly yell above the loud music to him.

“Well it looks like you spilled your drink,” He says, making you look at the reminisce of your drunken reflexes failing you.

“Don’t worry about it it’s ok” You smile at him, and in return, he looks directly into your eyes. His brown eyes caused a shift in your stomach, piercing your soul while comforting you in a delightful mix of emotions.

“Well, I can stop worrying about it if you let me buy you a drink.” The clever way to buy a girl a drink. You sigh, “Well crap, I guess I gotta let you buy me a drink now.” You laugh out. “Why thank you,” he says, leaning over the bar and ordering sex on the beach. “Sex on the beach? how’d you know?” he looks back over at you with a smug grin strewn across his face, bewitching you even more. “I saw you ordering it when you first walked in.” Oh. So he was staring at you the whole night, interesting, I guess a smart girl’s intuition never fails. “Well thank you for noticing, Mr-” “Kiszka, but it would be best if you called me Josh.” “Well thank you very much, Josh, nice to meet you.” You smile back at him and for a moment you can feel lust piercing through you like you’ve been shot by Cupid himself. Who knew an arrow through the heart could feel so good?

The rest of the next 40 or so minutes flew by in a hurricane of lustful glances and drunken introductions set in the brightly dimmed nightclub you found yourself in. Meeting his friends, those 4 guys you kept in mind to be specific. Their names were Jake, who just so happened to be the twin of Josh, (is it bad you’ve always dreamt of having a thing with a set of twins?) and their little brother Sam, accompanied by their friend Danny. And my god were they the epitome of beauty and grace, their suave presence somehow lighting up the dim nightclub. But then the next thing you knew, you were making out with Josh in the back alley waiting for an Uber.

The ride back to his apartment was tense but uneventful in respect of the poor Uber driver who had probably dealt with enough drunk people tonight already. The sexual tension was overflowing from the backseat where you both resided, his hand on your thigh resting ever so gently with all the passion and care in the world.

Then the car stopped, his hand quickly unbuckling your seatbelt for you and grabbing your hand, leading you out onto the sidewalk in front of a lavish apartment building, the ones you see celebrities come out of in staged paparazzi photo shoots. You felt his hand snake around your waist leading you into the lobby encrusted with marble and the stench of rich people wasting money because they can. Who were you about to sleep with? God only knows but you know for a fact you got lucky.

The makeout session in the elevator was heated, so much so that you barely paid attention to the fact the elevator went straight into a hall with only 5 or 6 doors, with Josh leading you down the short hall straight into his apartment, or more so what looked like to be a penthouse. You didn’t get a great look at it though - through the lips on lips and hands and waists it was hard to pay attention to detail.

He broke your kiss in what felt like hours, arguably the best of your life. You’re led into his bedroom quickly, He playfully drags you into the room, pushing you onto the bed. You spread your legs for him, butterflies swirl in your core. You watch as he starts to slow down, pulling his shirt over his head. He puts his knee in between your legs climbing over you on the bed. Your lips collide once more, desperate and lustful. You moan into it, quickly making work of his pants, pulling them down to his thighs. You can feel him through his boxers, already harder than ever. He slides his hand up your thigh, slowing towards the hem of your dress. He stops briefly, “Can I?” you only respond by lifting your hips and starting to pull it off, he stops you and pushes your hips back down with proximity while pulling it off, throwing it somewhere into the dark room, only lit by the moonlight shining in through the ceiling high window.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, all you feel is warmth. Josh’s body presses up against yours again, lips and tongues intertwined making your head spiral, hell you had just met this guy an hour ago. This was way more fun than you thought you’d have tonight. A random man named Josh, his 3 best friends are hot - and you got to meet them, this guy is probably rich as fuck, and my god was he good.

He pulls away briefly losing the shorts and boxers. You can see his tip already red and leaking, he leans over you, continuing a loss you had such a brief moment ago. He reaches down underneath your hips and tears your underwear off, throwing it aside. The hold he has on your hips is strong, a sickeningly lustful feeling going straight to your head. He breaks away, “Do you want me to wear a condom?” he asks, almost breathless. “It’d be nice,” you say, catching your breath as well. He smiles and reaches over you to the nightstand grabbing one and tearing it open and putting it on swiftly. You grab his face, pulling him down to kiss you. Josh laughs through the kiss, his chuckle soon turns into a moan as he kisses down your neck. “Can I fuck you?” is all he manages to breathe out. “God, please.” you moan.

Your gut and head both turn to jelly as he enters you, not too slow, not too hard, and not too fast.

God, he’s good.

You feel the vibrations of his moan on your neck, mixed with the vibrations of yours coming from the same source. You can’t help but let it all out, moans and whimpers and all the beautiful sounds of sex fill up this room. His hips are snapping into yours, picking up the pace, brutally. He leans back, never losing stamina. Josh grips your hips, hard enough that you’re sure it’ll leave a bruise. He slides up to your upper thighs, pulling them apart while he kneels in front of you, throwing the back of your knees over his shoulders, making a new angle and another powerful sensation. You feel a coil start to form in your midgut, stronger than anything before it. “Fuck, I’m close-” You’re broken off by another moan escaping you by mistake. You watch as his hips snap back into you over and over, his abs are flexing and covered in a slight sheen of sweat. He takes his thumb and rubs it right underneath your clit, right on the sweet spot that drives you insane. Your orgasm comes crashing into you like a freight train at top speed. You don’t even realize how loud you moan, a headrush almost making you black out. You ride it out, soon coming to, hearing the pretty sound of Josh moaning and letting a slight whimper escape his pretty lips. “Fuck, baby-” he cuts himself off with a loud moan and the stutter of his hips. You feel the warmness in your gut fill you through the latex. He almost collapses on top of you, forearms pressed on the bed bedside. You rest your hands on the back of his neck, slowly caressing him through his post cum clarity. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” you admit, and to be completely honest, it was. That had been the best, let alone the best orgasm you’ve ever had. You feel him laugh a little, his head perking up, eyes locking with yours. “Really?” he breathes out, a chuckle leaving his lips, his pretty, pretty lips. God, he was beautiful. “Yes.” You watch as his eyes, seeing the words go straight to his head. “Why thank you, baby, I’m flattered.” he gives you a quick kiss on the lips, a gentle but beautiful gesture.

He slowly pulls out of you, taking off the condom and tying a knot in it. “I’ll be right back,” he gently pats your thigh as he gets up and heads towards the bathroom. Finally, you get the chance to look around and analyze where you are. It’s still dark, the moonlight shining in was still a good enough source though. His bed lies in the middle of the room. His walls are off-white, with unique artwork that just looks expensive. Goddamn, you hit the gold mine in the crowd of the bar tonight. You suddenly hear the bathroom door open back up, looking over you see his stature in the doorway, backlight by the bathroom light. He walks over and comes back up to you with a damp washcloth. “Do you mind if I clean you up?” He asks gently, his voice so calming you couldn’t help but agree to the kind gesture. He takes the washcloth to your upper thighs, cleaning up the stickiness. Gently, with more precision than ever, he glides it over your cunt, making sure not to overstimulate, while also cleaning you well. “Thank you,” you mutter out, now suddenly a bit shy after all is said and done. “You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he says, smiling brightly at you. You watch as he throws the towel in a hamper, turns off the bathroom light, turns back around, and hops back into bed. He offers you to climb under the covers with him, to which you happily oblige.

“Thank you, Josh, this is nice,” you say, making yourself comfortable in his bedsheets. He places a hand on your cheek, leaning on his side to fully lock eyes with you. “Of course, how could I see a beautiful girl like you and not treat her well?” you laugh along with him, thanking him for his kindness. You cuddle into his arms, sleepiness suddenly washing over you. His delightful musk fills your senses, his skin is so soft and gentle. This man is just so…beautiful. And kind. And sweet. And my god you can’t remember the last time, if at all, where you have ever been this happy, especially after hooking up with a guy you met at a bar. Josh brings you in closer, his gentle love lulls you to sleep, as the world around just goes into a comfortable silence.

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darsynia · 2 years

Text

Hand(s) Off | Ch 2: Ecstasy

(Steve Rogers/f!Reader sex pollen-esque multichapter)

STORY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

Summary: Steve's loved hearing about you from Bucky. He doesn't want anything to derail the progress his best friend has made toward being a whole person again, which is why he's going to use every ounce of his slowly-deteriorating willpower to resist touching you, tasting you, taking you. After all, he's just met you, and his own integrity, not to mention Bucky's trust, is important to him.

Neither of you are prepared for the catch.

Length | Warnings: 2,841 | Explicit sexual situations (they don't succeed in resisting, folks), MINORS DNI

Note: I want to make clear that I’m treating the issues of consent with sensitivity, as you'll hopefully see in this chapter!

Fill: Adoptable 'Pheremones’ from @allcapsbingo

Tags (please request!): @starryeyes2000 @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @icequeen1371 @chibijusstuff @nekoannie-chan

Excerpt:

“I’m-- wow, this is intense,” you say next.

There’s a little cry to the last word. You are clearly affected by Mistress too, and Steve feels both grateful and guilty about how relieved he is about that. This is a moral catastrophe, but you’re in this mess together, sort of. Anything less and Bucky would demand the right to kick his ass.

Hell, he probably still will.

“Take--” He stops himself. “Why don’t you take it off?”

“Nice catch,” you praise, leading him to buck his hips up. “Only if you take your shorts off, too. Fair’s fair.”

“Nothing about this is fair,” he growls out, getting up. Steve takes everything off because, fuck yes, access is what he needs right now. It’s a testament to how ruled he is by the drug in his system that it doesn’t even feel wrong to be wearing just a shirt in the room with you.

Ecstasy

Steve had known about you for a while now. He had been picturing you as a gorgeous pin-up, a dream woman, someone who could bridge the gap between 1940’s Bucky and the shadowed self his best friend had become. With everything Bucky’s told him about you, that impression had been reinforced.

Now he’s looking at you, your eyes wide, body a shapeless mass under the blanket, and he can’t help but wonder what you’ve heard from Bucky’s stories, from the footage of the attack on New York, from interviews since. Do you think he stands for integrity, kindness, justice? Can any of that possibly survive the unbearable need he’s feeling right now?

“I’m going to cover my face with this blanket, okay? Two layers of it.” You do that, waving a hand in front of your own face to check that it’s fully opaque. “You came here to change out of those wet clothes, don’t let me stop you!” You’re right, but Steve simply cannot picture that. Not with you in the room. “I tell you what: I’ll-- I’ll hum one of the songs I’ve been practicing for this weekend’s set, okay? That way I won’t be able to hear you.”

You’d said ‘hum,’ but the sultry notes resonating from under your blanket shouldn’t be described that way. Steve wrestles himself out of the soaked button-down and undershirt and chooses a white tank top for comfort. His temperature has to be in actual fever territory, and without any… relief, that’s hardly going to change.

When he unzips his pants, the humming gets louder, and Steve can’t help it, he rubs himself with the heel of his hand. He wonders if you’re sitting under that blanket with your eyes shut, picturing him undressing. Recognizing his own lowered inhibitions, he hurries up, stripping down completely in favor of getting every ounce of the drug away from body contact.

He’s pulling on a pair of shorts when you stop.

“Oh, I wanted to say, Cap--”

“Use ‘Steve,’” he says quickly. “I don’t want memories of--”

“Oh, God, you’re right. Sorry,” you groan in interruption.

It takes all his self-discipline not to respond to the need in that groan, squeezing his wet clothes so tightly they drip onto the carpet. You can’t see him, so you’re already continuing.

“I was going to say, you should bury those clothes in the hamper or a drawer or something, because I’m, uh, getting the equivalent of secondhand smoke, here.”

Steve distracts himself from that worrisome development by burying the clothes in his basket as if it were a mission. When he turns around, you’re standing, the blanket draped around you like a shield.

“Is this stuff dangerous at your dose? Should we break you out of here?” you ask, eyes wide.

“Breaking out would kill you.” He’d thought of that already. “The next level of security is enough nerve gas to incapacitate a super soldier. Today’s testing was to find out what’s safe.”

“At least they’ll get some data,” you muse. “Fuck, this blanket is getting hot-- I have an idea of how to survive this, but in case that fails, I’m sure Bucky already told you about my fifteen-minute adoring rave about your ass?”

He cannot fathom why you would say that. “Uh…”

“Never mind,” you say, wiping sweat off of your chin with the back of a hand. It looks like you’re right about being affected by the drug; Banner had said it was capable of being aerosolized. “So, we’re trapped here, yes?”

“Yes, but I have no intentions of touching you,” Steve says, using his Command voice, as much as he hates the cross-contamination. To his surprise, your eyes grow fierce.

“Well, I have no intentions of being the bitch so unappealing that Captain America would rather die than touch her with Mistress in his system, so why don’t you hear me out?”

Stunned and slightly impressed, Steve puts his hands up. “I didn’t think of that. Go on.”

You pull the blanket closer around yourself. You’d said you were too hot, so this is vulnerability, and it makes him feel protective. That’s some cross-contamination too, but it can’t be helped.

“Okay, if we’re not touching each other then we’ll have to touch ourselves, and we’re in this tiny room.” You walk over to the bed and point to the floor on either side of it, saying, “I suggest we each pick a side, flip the light off, and talk each other through it. It’ll be less intimate without the visuals, and maybe we can each pretend it’s a phone conversation on speaker?”

“With the bed as a natural barrier?”

“Yeah.”

Steve can already picture you seated on that blanket on the floor, head thrown back against the mattress, hands moving out of sight. It’s a compelling image. He clenches his jaw, pulling in too much air to give himself a different discomfort to distract himself with.

“Good thought. You stay on the door side. I’ll head over to the other side and stay there.”

“I don’t think you want to ‘soldier’ this, Steve,” you say, your voice softening to a whisper on his name like you have to force yourself to say it.

“Not sure I can stop,” Steve admits, propelling himself over to the wall on ‘his side.’ “Better get the light. This is…” he stops, needing to slow his breathing. All he can see when he closes his eyes is you slowly pulling the fabric of your dress up--

The light clicks off, plunging the room in darkness.

“Wow. I was expecting the darkness to feel comforting, but…” you say.

“Just sit down, shut your eyes,” Steve says-- and it’s all wrong. His voice is harsh, almost annoyed. He is annoyed. He should be better than this, but… “I’m sorry,” he says aloud. He’s apologizing to himself as much as to you.

“Me too,” you whisper, adding a little grateful noise that has Steve setting his forehead on the back wall. “Besides being very glad I can drop that blanket, I have no idea what I’m doing. Do we talk about ourselves? Each other?”

The taboo of the situation combined with the desire running through Steve’s body like wildfire weakens him to a kneel. This is the best outcome of a terrible situation, he tries to tell himself, but it doesn’t feel like that. Not with the prospect of that sultry tone of yours talking him through it.

“Steve?” You sound worried, alone.

“I’m here,” Steve hurries to say. “Got… distracted. Tell me what you’re doing, what you’re feeling? I still have to work on the command tone thing.” He moves to slump back against the side of the bed.

“You realize you’re still taking charge by not taking charge, yeah?” you say, more confident now, thank God.

“Would it help if you pretend we’ll die if one of us stops talking?”

“Spoken like a true Avenger,” you laugh. It’s throaty, affected, and Steve rests his hand on his lap, presses down. Yes. “Okay, I’m burning up. Inside and out. Even with short sleeves and a skirt.”

Steve makes a ‘Mmm’ noise without even meaning to, his palm rocking against his crotch.

“I’m-- wow, this is intense,” you say next.

Hell, he probably still will.

“Take--” He stops himself. “Why don’t you take it off?”

“Nice catch,” you praise, leading him to buck his hips up. “Only if you take your shorts off, too. Fair’s fair.”

“Nothing about this is fair,” he growls out, getting up. Steve takes his underwear off too because, fuck yes, access is what he needs right now. It’s a testament to how ruled he is by the drug in his system that it doesn’t even feel wrong to be wearing just a shirt in the room with you. With some of the last logical coherence he has left, he grabs a tube of lube out of his bedside drawer.

There are condoms there too, but he won’t be needing them.

“No touching yet!” you call out, right as Steve slides a slick fist along his own length. It feels like the first time he’s ever done it right.

“Who’s giving the orders?”

“You don’t want to leave me behind, do you?”

“I don’t, I promise,” Steve groans.

He collapses onto his knees at the bed, practically praying for release. The mattress shakes, and he can see the whole scene in his mind; you’re scrambling to pull the dress off over your head. He almost doesn’t recognize himself in his own thoughts, but that doesn’t stop them. Do your bra or panties have any lace? What color are they?

“What color?” he rasps aloud, before he can stop himself. Despite what you said, his hand falls back to his cock, gripping but not moving. Even that is intensely pleasurable, but it’s the best he can do.

“Are you asking about what I took off or what I’m still wearing?” you ask.

Playful. Steve’s lost. He’s lost, because you sound joyful despite the situation. This is working, your plan, but he can’t help but feel like he’s trespassing. He should know so much more about you before getting to talk about your underclothes. That thought spirals, predictably, to the kinds of things women used to wear in his own time: hidden garter ribbons, the proliferation of skirts, the--

“Steve, if you’re going to ask questions like that, you ought to listen to the answers. It’s only polite.”

“You answered?”

“I described them. What were you doing?”

His hips jerk forward into his waiting fist, and it’s so sweet and hot and not enough that Steve gasps. “I think you know.”

“God, your voice is rough right now, do you know that?” you ask in a voice that’s rough too. “I’m sliding down the straps of my black lace bra so they pull on my arms.”

“Where are your hands?” One of his is moving slowly, deliberately.

“I’m--” The bedframe shakes slightly, and when you speak again, your voice is muffled like you’d thrown yourself face-first onto the bed. “I’m in flames, but it just hit me where I am and who you are!”

It strikes him that no woman will ever forget who he is ever again, not even in the throes of a mind-altering chemical.

“I’m just a guy, Dee,” he says, turning to sit on the floor again. “I always was. Just a guy who wants to help, to do good.” He’s not doing good right now, saying these kinds of things to someone he cannot drive away from Bucky, but those qualms are fuzzy and indistinct.

“I think I need you to talk now.”

Most of what leaps to mind is filthy, for all that his thoughts move as slow as molasses. “If you slide your hand inside your panties and cup yourself, will both sides of your hand be wet?”

“Fuck, what a question!” Your low groan makes him really want to taste its resonance on the outside of your throat. The mattress moves slightly, just enough to signal to Steve that you’re reaching down. “Y-yes.”

His own hand is moving faster, twisting, the heat of the drug in his system setting fire to every inhibition and replacing the ash with pleasure. “How do you like to be touched?” he manages to ask.

The words hang between the two of you for awhile. Finally, you tell him, using a breathy moan that makes clear that you’re acting out the actions as you speak. His orgasm strikes not long after, and Steve doubles over with the force of it, vocalizing in ways he usually never allows himself to do.

“I loved listening to that.” Your voice has a whine to it, a desperation he totally recognizes.

“It’s your turn,” he says, reaching over and grabbing his pillow to remove the case and wipe himself off with it.

“It smells like-- fuck, that’s so intimate, I--”

“I wish I could smell you,” Steve blurts out, feeling himself harden again. He’d expected that, maybe not quite so quickly, but he's a super soldier overdosing on Mistress.

You let out a gasp, and he leans back against the mattress to feel that it’s shaking, shaking with the rhythmic movements of your arm. You’re right, this is almost unbearably intimate, but right now that’s the best thing ever, with all the possible objections lost behind a haze of hot desire and the smell of sex.

Steve shifts so he’s kneeling at the bed again, his chest and one arm anchored to the mattress so he can enjoy the sensations as you stimulate yourself. “I can feel you move,” he says lowly-- and that’s it, he can hear the change in your breathing.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh,” you wail, the sound changing as you close your lips on the sound to change it to a ‘Mmmm.’

It’s almost enough to send Steve over again, but he’s greedy for every hitched gasp, every translated shove against the bed as you rock through it. Something tells him that reminding you he’s here will make you self conscious, so though each noise burns from his ears all the way across his body, he suppresses the need to vocalize his own resulting pleasure-pain.

Your next words take the edge off.

“You have to be kidding me!” you snap, sounding frustrated. “That felt great, don’t get me wrong, but there’s no relief! I am still using every single brain cell not to climb you like a tree.”

Steve unabashedly humps against the mattress a bit, at that.

“Yeah, see? You know what I’m going through,” you grumble.

“I never expected camaraderie,” Steve coughs out on a laugh. The levity lifts the musky pall of desperate need, but only for a moment. “I have no idea how long this will--”

“I figured,” you whisper. “That AI, does it have --ahh, I am just so warm and so, god, hang on-- night vision?”

It takes an annoyingly long time for Steve to figure out what you’re asking. “I don’t think so. It monitors everyone, so if one of us gets so hot we need medical attention--”

“Excuse me, but you’ve been that hot since the 40’s!” you interrupt, adding, “You mean you don’t have an override that comes with your rank, or…”

It’s absurd, the way he’s jacking himself off and holding a conversation. “I, ah, turned it off. In case I asked for something inappropriate while my thinking was impaired.”

You sound affectionately amused as you say, “Oh no! Steve, your thinking was already impaired!”

“Yeah, I’m seeing that now.”

“Oh.”

This new tone of yours goes straight to his cock, and Steve just leans over and thrusts into his hand a few times, the ecstasy from each squeeze washing over him in waves. It seems even better than before, but somehow not painfully so.

He recovers enough coherence to say, “What is it?”

“This is-- oh. We might have some data for your other Avengers, here.”

“It’s better now, isn’t it?” Steve pants out.

“Yes!”

Your voice throbs with approval, and he throws out his free hand, grabbing at the sheet to hold on as another orgasm rocks through him.

“Wow, did that send you over?” you ask, sounding impressed.

“It’s dark, but I still see fireworks,” he jokes, immediately wishing he his need-fuzzed brain hadn’t chosen that word. The number of ‘Captain America’ fireworks jokes he’s heard over the past year…

“You know the way to a woman’s ego, telling her you’re seeing stars and she hasn’t even touched you!” you say in an affected, sultry tone. “That’s, god, I’m such a mess. That’s my ‘lounge singer’ voice after I’ve had a few drinks. Don’t get to use it much.”

“So both of us have a not-so-secret identity?”

The bed shakes, presumably with your laughter, and that both sharpens and magnifies Steve’s arousal in the oddest way, more similar to the beginning, when he’d wanted to protect you as much as he’d wanted to touch.

“I hope you don’t mind, but my back is killing me,” you say. Steve doesn’t understand what you mean until your bare leg sweeps across his outstretched arm.

Immediately, instinctively, he clasps it, and both of you suck in a breath. The all-consuming pleasure he’d felt touching himself was nothing compared to this. Before he can realize what he’s doing, what it means, Steve’s climbing up onto the bed, following the contour of your naked leg up as he goes.

“ Steve,” you groan out, and the hint of hesitation in your voice fists his hand against your hip.

“Do you want me to stop?” he forces out through clenched teeth.

“Absolutely not,” you moan, your hand finding his and tugging.

Next chapter...

#allcapsbingo2023 #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america x reader #captain america smut #captain america x f!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #captain america x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #mcu smut #mcu fanfiction #sex pollen #humor #romance

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romione-trope-fest · 7 months

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Call It What You Want - Romione Hidden Relationship

Title: Call It What You Want

Author: adenei

Selected Trope: Fake NOT Dating (Hidden Relationship)

Brief Summary: In a world where there is no Voldemort, Hogwarts is just an ordinary school for witchcraft and wizardry. The Golden Trio still pass through its hallowed halls for their seventh year, but not as you’d expect. Hermione Granger, of Ravenclaw is—naturally—Head Girl, and Ron Weasley, of Gryffindor, was named alongside her as Head Boy. It’s everything Hermione’s ever dreamed of, except there’s one small problem. After a falling out in fifth year, Hermione and Ron don’t get along. Or so everyone thinks.

Word Count: 2,771 (Chapter 1 of a multichapter story)

Rating: T

TW: None

This is not how tonight was supposed to go.

Hermione rubs her temples with the thumb and middle finger of her left hand, squeezing her eyes shut. Blots of ink drip from the tip of the quill in her right hand, hovering over the box labeled ‘7 November’ on the magically duplicated parchment, soaking through and threatening to stain the old maple of the worn desk. There are other things she’d like to be doing against this desk right now instead of creating the rounds schedule like the dutiful Head Girl she is. Like writing her Ancient Runes essay.

Yes, her Runes essay is exactly what she’d rather be doing. Not this stupid round schedule that she shouldn’t even be completing alone. The Head Boy should be helping. The Head Boy who should also be back by now. The one she’s been daydreaming about for the last thirty minutes. Visions of him shoving everything off the smooth desktop to lay her down on it so they can—nope. That’s definitely not what she’d rather be doing instead.

She sets down the quill, bunches up the parchment and tosses it in the bin. “Ugh. This is stupid.”

The whole thing is stupid, really. Hermione swore to herself she’d play this whole thing cool. She can manage ‘cool’, right? It shouldn’t be hard.

Yet here she is, fixating on him, the boy who’s always intent on letting her down. Who can’t even bother being on time after he said he would.

Empty promises.

Maybe this is a bad idea, after all.

She pushes the wooden chair with leather upholstery out from the desk and escapes into her bedroom. There’s no point in staying in her uniform anymore. Tonight’s assigned Prefects are already on duty. It’s not like they’re going to come and request assistance. Hermione doesn’t know why she bothers to stay dressed until at least ten every evening.

I know why.

God, she hates the singsong voice taunting her mind. She will not think about the other reasons she’s still dressed in her uniform. How the tie makes it easy for him to pull her close. How the white button-up shirt is translucent enough to pique his imagination, making it impossible for him to hide his desire. How the loose pleated skirt can offer easy access for him to—

Nope. I said we weren’t going there.

Plus, it’s not like she’s let things go that far. Though, she wonders if that could possibly be the reason she’s so fixated on her desire right now. Maybe she needs to experience the release and then she can not be so wound up for no damn reason. Because she’s being ridiculous—she needs to get it together. When has Hermione Granger ever let her thoughts distract her to this level of being completely incapable of doing anything?

She pulls out her comfiest pair of blue plaid pajama bottoms and a matching black vest with Ravenclaw’s crest on the upper right chest. Once she’s slipped off her skirt and replaced it with the worn-in, faded fabric, she works slowly at the buttons of her shirt. Is she going to fully turn-in for the evening? Does she really not want to see him at all? Can she fall asleep without knowing why he blew her off?

With fingertips grazing the front clasp of her periwinkle bralette, she ultimately decides to leave it for now. She’s not quite ready to shut him out tonight. Not yet. She’ll give him thirty more minutes while she reads by the fire.

Still, there’s a voice in the back of her mind trying to convince her to just shut and lock her door. ‘Ice him out. Give him the silent treatment.’ But she wants the satisfaction of seeing him squirm as he tries to make some half-arsed excuse as to why he’s late.

Clearly, he’s not taking his duties seriously—not taking her seriously. What a typical Gryffindor. What on earth was Professor McGonagall thinking?

Hermione swipes the novel she’s currently reading off of her nightstand and stomps back out to the common area, plopping down on the sofa in front of the fireplace. She doesn’t even need the wool blue and bronze blanket draped over the back because the fire manages to keep the small room so warm—almost too warm.

Well, something needs to keep me warm tonight.

She tries desperately to get lost in her book. It takes longer than necessary, but eventually, the plot takes a turn, drawing her in with the promise of a mysterious prince taking interest in the stubborn, independent main character who is out to prove that she doesn’t need a man to complete her.

And naturally, once she’s sucked into the witty banter of the main characters, there’s a soft click that echoes across the mostly empty space as the door opens and shuts. In walks the bane of her existence, forehead glistening with what she assumes to be sweat; the tips of his red fringe wet.

Eyes peering over the top of her book—and against her better judgment—she drinks him in as he kicks off his standard broom-riding leather boots. Damn him for bending over and showing off the sculpted muscles of his arse in those tight khaki pants. And damn her for all but drooling over it. It’s like he knows she’s going to be pissed and needs to break her resolve. The red and gold jersey doesn’t help either, given that it threatens to rip open any time his arms flex. How she’d love to grab it by the number ‘two’ plastered on his back and rip it off of him so it’ll stop turning her on when she’s supposed to be mad at him.

Yes, because getting him shirtless is going to help the anger situation.

Hermione forces her eyes back to the book, but still catches the way he beams his stupid lopsided smile at her when he finally turns around. Why does he have to be so cocky and confident and put together all the freaking time? Even when he’s not, he still manages to pull off ‘effortless’ like it’s nothing. She should be lucky he wants to spend time with her at all, given he’s so out of her league.

Sure, pair the brainy little Ravenclaw with the jocky Gryffindor fuckboy. Dumbledore probably had a right laugh making that decision. They get along fine. Ha. That’s what he thinks. Of course, they used to, before he did the one thing that fucked everything up fifth year.

Stop. Things have been fine so far. More than fine. I’m sure he has a perfectly good excuse for why he’s—

“Hey.” He breaks her out of her spiral. “Sorry I’m late. Practice ran a little over, then I thought I’d hit the Prefects Bathroom to shower before heading—”

Hermione huffs a little too loudly.

“What?”

“Save it, Ron. I don’t need your excuses.”

“It’s…not? Demelza would not let up tonight. She wanted the Chasers to perfect this play and begged me to stay an extra twenty minutes.”

She raises an eyebrow and allows her gaze to settle on him, searching for sincerity in the striking cornflower blue of his eyes. Ugh, she hates how those eyes can damn near melt her with a single heated look, much like the one he’s giving her now. Like he knows what she’s about to say, but is challenging her to do it anyway.

And naturally, she does. “Right. So, then you needed a, what, thirty minute shower? In the Prefects Bathroom, no less, when you could have come straight here?”

Even though he’s goading her and should be fully expecting it, his jaw still drops. He folds his arms, and—ugh, for Merlin’s sake she needs to stop staring at the contours of his chest—shakes his head slightly. A scoff escapes his throat.

“You don’t believe me.”

“Do you really expect me to? It’s okay, you can tell me if you got mauled by your groupies. I can’t imagine having a fan club follow me around like the sun shines out of my—”

“I do not have groupies. Those fourth and fifth years are always after Harry.”

“Right—”

“And I’m not lying to you.”

“Of course you’re not. Because the first thing I always like to do after taking a shower is put on the sweaty clothes I just stripped off to get clean from.” She shoves the bookmark in her book and slams it down on the sofa as she finally stands to face him.

The frustration in his eyes shifts as soon as the words come tumbling out of her mouth. She’s not even sure if he’s still listening, given the way his eyes flit down to her heaving chest. Unabashed desire falls over his face as his eyes darken and the corner of his lip curls upward. For a split second, she wonders what could possibly possess his face to transform that way. Because it’s not entirely want. If it was, she doesn’t think they’d be standing this far apart.

Studying his expression a little longer, she wills her mind to connect the dots. She knows that look from somewhere. But…where? And then the familiarity suddenly hits her. It’s the face he makes when he finds the checkmate.

Nice try, Weasley, but you’re not winning this one.

It’s beyond annoying, not to mention ridiculous. There’s no way he can win this. Her logic is sound and his story doesn’t line up. If he thinks he’s going to get out of this one, she’d like to see him try.

He takes a step closer, but remains on the other side of the sofa. His arms relax as his hands grip the back of the sofa while he stares intently at her. “You know I have two practice jerseys right?”

“No,” she responds automatically before her eyes go wide.

She purses her lips and is tempted to stand down, but she refuses. Hermione Granger does not back down from a fight. Even if she knows what’s coming and he’s got her cornered. As much as she doesn’t want to, there’s nothing left to do but brace herself for the inevitable checkmate and prepare for a rematch.

“Mental, isn’t it? Having more than one? I mean, I could see why you’d think that—most players offer their jerseys to girlfriends or boyfriends to wear as support during matches. But considering our first match isn’t for another month, I haven’t given mine away yet. It’s still sitting in my Prefect locker—well, it was. You haven’t forgotten we have those too, have you?”

Her nostrils flare. She hates the way he gloats. “No,” she spits, knowing he won’t go on until she acknowledges the question.

“Yeah, well, you were right, though. I was a sweaty mess and didn’t want to come back looking like that. But I also know how much you like the uniform, so…it seemed like the perfect solution.”

Her jaw twitches. Okay, so he wasn’t off with another girl. Not that she really thought he would be anyway. She supposes maybe she’s just overcompensating—desperate to hear him say he only has eyes for her. But that would be delusional.

Just because they do, in fact, work well together, and they happen to have an agreement in place, doesn’t mean he’s going to be that forward. Besides, he clearly isn’t as serious as she is about their agreement given his tardiness—which further reiterates her decision to take things slow—and that’s precisely what she hones in on next.

“Yes, well, it’s already well past nine, and if you happen to recall, we were supposed to start the Round schedule for November tonight.”

“I’m aware.” His hands clench and Hermione’s gaze follows as the tightness ripples up his forearms, through his biceps to his neck and jaw.

Satisfied she’s swiped the relaxed, cocky demeanor out from beneath him, she’s certain she’ll take the next win. “Well, I don’t particularly appreciate having all the work shoved on me. Just because I’m a Ravenclaw with a high work ethic and the need to have everything organized and done weeks in advance does not mean I will be picking up your slack by completing it on my own.”

And he doesn’t need to know that I almost did, either.

“Hermione, who says I’m shoving the work off on—it’s October fifteenth—”

She cuts him off. “And we promised McGonagall a draft by Monday! Just because I can manage my schedule does not mean I’ll be bailing you out. The Heads are supposed to work together. It’s not my fault you’ve got Quidditch and Chess and all your classes to account for. I’m busy too, you know. I’ve got a heavy NEWT load, and can’t lose precious study time working on schedules by myself because you’re too busy playing Gryffindor’s savior on the pitch.”

“Are you seriously going to hold that team meeting on the Express over my head all year? I told you it wouldn’t be long and I’d be back to help. No one asked you to make the first week’s schedule on your own. I wanted to help.”

Hermione throws up her hands and turns to head to her room. “I’m not holding anything against you. I’m just saying, if I’m not important—if this isn’t important—then maybe we should rethink—”

Ron’s large, warm, freckly hand grabs hers and spins her around before he backs her into the frame of the door, his body flush against hers. It nearly knocks the wind right out of her lungs. Her spine is so erect that she almost doesn’t notice how her chest is pushed out, but when she tilts her head up to meet his gaze, she realizes very quickly that he does.

“You are important. But we have an image to maintain, remember? The one we agreed on? I couldn’t exactly tell my teammates to sod off because I had somewhere to be. They probably thought they were doing me a favor, keeping me later.”

It’s all she can do not to let her eyelids flutter shut as his hot breath hits her cheek. He definitely showered, all right. The warm, spiced scent of his soap invades her senses, and suddenly it’s difficult to think of anything else.

“I guess,” she concedes.

His knuckles graze her hips before blazing a tantalizing trail up her sides. It’s slow. It’s sensual. It’s everything she’s ever dreamed of. Eventually, his fingers tangle in her hair as his palms cup her face. Twenty-nine days and counting and she’s still not used to it. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be.

But before she lets herself get lost in his touch, his smell, his gaze, she notices his face split into a wide grin. He’s got one more trick up his sleeve, but at this point she doesn’t care. She just wants to feel his lips on hers. Because fourteen hours and three minutes—give or take—is far too long since the last time.

“By the way, if you’d checked the top right drawer, you might have noticed I already filled out half of November’s schedule.”

“You—what?”

His smile softens so that it’s more sheepish, but it’s still radiant as ever. “Yeah. Figured I owed you for September.”

“But we’re supposed to be doing it—”

“Together, I know. Except I’d rather be doing this instead.”

He swoops down and captures her lips with his, taking her breath away. She should really be used to this by now, but she’s not. Not even close. Her hands drift up his chest, grasping the jersey she was ogling not fifteen minutes ago, tugging and pulling at it. Because as good as it looks on him, she wants it off. Now.

His hands shift down to cup her arse, lifting her up and she wraps her legs around his waist. Her teeth scrape his bottom lip before her tongue darts into his mouth, eliciting a groan from deep within his chest.

“Fuck,” he says as he tears his mouth away from hers, peppering kisses along her jaw and down toward her neck. “So, we’re done rowing about the rounds schedule now, yeah? Because if it’s all the same to you, I’ve been waiting all day to do this.”

Hermione tilts her neck to give him easier access as her hands rake through the soft thicket of red hair as she guides him to the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Please,” she sighs with contented relief. All the tension she’s been holding evaporates with every kiss. “Though, I can think of some more comfortable places to snog other than against this door frame.

He smiles against her collarbone. “Right. Your room okay?”

“Always.”

As he carries her into her bedroom and kicks the door shut, Hermione can’t help feeling foolish for picking such a ridiculous fight. But she loves the thrill of going toe-to-toe with him because it makes the snogging—and then some—so much better.

It’s okay that he’s late—really, it is—because it means that their secret is safe. Outside these walls, it’s all an act. They’re indifferent toward each other, tolerable for the sake of being Head Boy and Head Girl. Working together only because they have to.

Little does everyone know they’re doing a lot more than working. It’s thrilling, really. Unbeknownst to the rest of the school, Ron Weasley is her boyfriend. And so far, it’s practically perfect in every way.

#submission #fake not dating #hidden relationship #romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger

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thegnomelord · 2 months

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I was curious about how the other Konni reacted at the idea of Makarov making Hound Hound.(I mean they wouldn’t have much of a choice anyway considering how Makarov is in general) I just thought the reactions of his (Makarov’s) own men might’ve amused him as well as the whole package of brainwashing and abuse Makarov put Hound through

(I read through the posts and found out that the story is posted somewhere. If true could you tell me please? To satisfy my curiosity that is eating at me)

Hmm idk really, the second chapter that I currently have in my drafts will kinda sorta show how Hound is seen from Yuri's perspective (granted I changed up the plot a bit so Makarov and Yuri have history) but over all it was a mix. Some just found it amusing what Makarov was doing, others hated it, but most stayed passive. It's easier and safer to just ignore and move on, plus it's not like the men Makarov hires have any love for the West.

Also idk there's not really much of a story so far there's just one chapter that I posted as a one off fic but got begged into turning into a long multichapter fic and I just keep fucking dragging my feet on it lol

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #male reader #good dog fic #hound-reader

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penvisions · 7 months

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dev's masterlist {joel miller}

I've somehow expanded my writing enough to warrant a whole separate masterlist for the one and only Joel Miller! He's so diverse and there are so many facets to his character, so it's been fun to explore writing for him ♡ Keep in mind my blog and online spaces are strictly 18+ Each fic has its own masterlist post with links to chapters, warnings, and supplemental content! Happy reading! ♡

back to -> navigation || main masterlist

*Series / Multichapter Fics:

Title: return the favor Pairing: Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Smuggler! Reader Status: work in progress Summary: With a past as rich as anyone in the times after the Outbreak, you find your medical and survival skills to be a valuable asset.You were dropping off some medical supplies that FEDRA was willing to pay big for when you got tangled up in a mission that involves a teenager with a mouth almost as smart as yours and gruff older man whose graying curls were his only redeeming quality. But the longer you traveled with them and the more that happened out in the open land of what once was, the more you find yourself connecting with them and wanting to protect them both at any cost.

ao3 link || series masterlist

Title: garnish Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader (a restaurant au) Staus: complete Summary: Summer is a time of fun and carefree days for those who are fortunate enough to not work within the food industry. You however have found yourself back in that world and so long were the days you could spend doing nothing. Along with the shift back to a world you once left behind is the figure of Joel Miller, who is as magnetizing as he is irritating that is now a part of your daily life.

ao3 link || series masterlist

Title: zest Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader) Status: work in progress Summary: With the passage of time, Joel Miller had shifted from ‘chef’ to something more. Your once hidden relationship a secret now out in the open. After a break in which you finished your degree and managed to land your dream job of teaching at the collegiate level, Joel had thrown himself into his work at the restaurant where you met. Back together and in far better mental places in your life, you both are caught off guard by the sudden news of being prospective parents. But things are always gonna get hectic because, of course, how else would things go with the two of you involved? It’d been that way for nearly two years after all.

ao3 link || series masterlist

Title: by the grit of sandpaper Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x F! Reader (Artisan! Joel Miller x F! Reader Status: complete Summary: Joel Miller is a gruff as they come, the world having changed him for the worst. But settling in Jackson with his brother changed him for the better. He's known around town as someone to help, whether it be with home repairs, construction, and hand carved trinkets. An offhand comment from you inspires him to branch out and create helpful kitchen wares. And it seems everyone has been gifted one from him, except for you. It makes you rethink the casual friendship you had developed with the man that had just begun to expand beyond patrols.

ao3 link || series masterlist

Title: gone to the dogs Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader Status: work in progress Summary: What happens when the world ends in such a violent way that it robs you of your very humanity? Do you submit or raise your hackles and fight back? The answer is obvious to Joel Miller, known for being someone to not to cross even in the most dangerous corners of the Boston QZ. The answer is obvious to you, too, who transformed in his likeness.

ao3 link || series masterlist

*One Shots / Drabbles:

Title: for the record Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader Summary: The longer, more dangerous patrol routes around Jackson are designated to you and one Joel Miller. You both have an understanding with each other, talking wasn’t the biggest concern for either of you, but being confident in each other was. He wasn’t a bad friend in your scavenged life, but then again you were beginning to think you didn’t want to be just his friend…and that’s got you more than a little sexually frustrated.

ao3 link || direct link

Title: unexpected bloom Pairing: Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x Reader Summary: A single flower and a chance encounter brings color to your life.

ao3 link || direct link

Title: there's a place and time Pairing: Younger! Joel Miller x Neighbor! Reader Summary: Moving back to your parents house wasn't part of the plan, neither was being a thorn in your neighbor's side. but you roll with the punches, and hey, he's kinda cute when he gets huffy.

ao3 link || direct link

{wristwatch}

{early morning filth}

{joel's morning wood}

*Construction Corner:

Title: black hole sun Pairing: Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x Waitress! Reader ; Jackson! Joel Miller x Survivor! Reader Status: under construction : to be posted soon! Summary: You carry memories of Joel Miller in your heart in the wake of the end of the world, someone who had once been a bright spot in the dull monotony of life. When you unexpectedly cross paths with him again, he’s no longer the young man you used to share moments with but an unforgiving dark spot that had been corrupted by the new world order. He’s gone in the blink of an eye once again, showing up months later to settle in Jackson as he’s turned into some convoluted mixture of each. Maybe time and circumstance will allow for you finally tell each other how you feel?

ao3 link || series masterlist

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biffhofosho · 1 month

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Hot Girls _____ | Chapter One

Fandom: Monsta X

Genre: Technically a slow-burn romance

Pairing: Changkyun x OC

Chapter Word Count: 7.4k

Trope: Friends to fuckbuddies to lovers

The Vibe: Cute girl who wants to feel hot, fuckboi best friend who wants to help because he’s a loyal bestie, sexuality mentorship lolwut, makeover tropes, booze, parties, jealousy, overprotectiveness, sexting, lots of praise with the intent on corruption (in an empowering way?) eheh, ill-fated friends with benefits agreement, best laid plans falling apart as they do, everyone figuring out their shit for the best

Synopsis: Her whole life, Vi’s been known as the cute one, the cherub-cheeked sweetheart who’s got it all together. She’s a good girl, but that doesn’t mean she wants to be, especially when she keeps losing out to the bad ones.

Vi’s best friend, Changkyun, however, is hardly a saint. He’s a consumer of hot girls, chronically unattached and comfortable that way. If anybody knows how to help Vi step out of her shell and take back her confidence, it’s him. It’s a good thing she can always count on her Kyun to step up to the plate.

A/N: Inadvertently wrote myself into another multichapter fic the second I got the Kyun 1st Lookmagazine in my hands. I'll think about that magazine until the day I die, whew. The fuckboi realness was too strong, and I am far too weak. And we already know I can’t fight the best friends to lovers trope, so here we are again.

I really wanted to get this first chapter out on my birthday, but I've had two terrible weeks in a row that just sucked the life out of me, and it's the high season at work, so it's been crushing. I couldn't even be bothered to make a cute banner for this; however, I was NOT going to put this off anymore.

I'll also be posting the first chapter of something else in the near future (so long as there are no more dastardly interuptions. Hope y'all are getting a chance to see Kyun in concert. I'm too much of a chicken to go, but my friends who have said it was incredible. What a man!

Cvr | 01 | 02 |

Chapter One

It all came down to today.

Vi reapplied her lip gloss, slid her glasses to the bridge of her nose, fluffed out her curly bob, and smoothed the pleats in her skirt one final time. In the company award showcase, she glanced at her ginger complexion dusted liberally with espresso freckles and took a deep breath.

You can do this, Vi. This is what you’ve been working toward for months.

Steeling herself, she turned the corner into Henry’s office. Her coworker looked up from his desk and beamed. “Hey, you. Looking cute today, I see.”

Normally, “cute” was Vi’s most feared word, but coming from Henry, she didn’t mind. “Thanks…”

“I was just thinking about you.”

“You were?” she asked giddily.

“Yeah. Want to go to lunch today?”

“That sounds awesome. When do you want to go?”

Henry glanced at the clock on his monitor and popped an eyebrow. “Five minutes?”

Vi bit her lip to cover her excessive smile. “Yeah, okay, I’ll just get my bag.”

“Meet you downstairs then.”

Despite the fact that Henry hadn’t walked her to her desk, he had asked her to lunch—for the first time ever. Chiseled, square-jawed Henry Williams. Broad, stacked Henry Williams. Tall, honey-voiced Henry Williams. Was. Taking. Viola Flowers. To lunch. She had gone to his office to ask him out, but, miracle of miracles, he had asked her instead. Nothing could touch her now.

Vi grabbed her crocheted cross-body and bounded down the steps to the lobby, where, true to form, Henry waited. His hands were stuffed in his suit pockets, and her brain turned to mush at the sight. She was lucky she remembered how to walk in her platforms because the moment he flashed his cool guy smile at her, the one that rounded out his stubbly jaw, her heart skipped as hard as her toe across the floor.

“You’re fast,” he observed.

“I’m excited.” When her words made it to her ears, heat flooded Vi’s body. “You know me. I love lunch.”

I love lunch? she lamented internally. Gross, Vi. Seriously gross. Ugh.

“Where do you want to go?” she pressed.

Henry craned his head to peer at the sky through the storefront and suggested, “Looks pretty nice out. Want to just walk to the taco truck around the corner?”

She did not. How on earth could she eat a taco and still look attractive? Besides, food trucks didn’t have tables, and she really wanted to share a table with him; staring straight into those deep-as-night eyes would be a dream come true. But Vi said none of that. She couldn’t risk turning him down and losing out on their first-ever lunch, not after investing nearly half a year into her fishing campaign.

“Okay,” she answered.

“Cool. Then we can just grab a seat under a tree or something. Looks like there’s some benches around.”

Vi smiled. Okay, this was better than she’d hoped. Side by side? She could find a way to brush her leg against his. Maybe he’d look down at her bare knee. Maybe he’d accidentally graze it. She was getting ahead of herself, but maybe he’d yank her into the supply closet and pin her up against the door…

Her throat was already closing up at the thought.

“You’re up. Whatever you want, I’m buying,” said Henry with a gentle bump to her shoulder.

Vi didn’t even remember walking to the truck, but it was already her turn to order. On the off chance that the supply closet was in her near future, she ordered a simple quesadilla, though Henry seemed totally unconcerned with such pretenses judging by his extra onions carne asada.

Once they had their lunch, they found a bench under a tree around the corner where the shade was just right to block the noon sun. A few other coworkers buzzed by with waves for them, but Vi was happy to note that she had Henry totally to herself. They chatted through their first bites before he downed his final taco in one big chomp.

“Okay, I can’t wait anymore,” said Henry the second he swallowed. “I know you’re still eating, but I have to ask you something.”

Vi blinked at him, and her oversized eyes had never been bigger.

Henry laughed. “Relax. It’s a good thing—no, a great thing, even.”

She gulped down her bite and smoothed the edges of her skirt as she gnawed on her bottom lip. It took her a second to calm the jumping beans in her stomach, but Vi said, “What’s up?”

“You know, I mean I think you know, that you’re my best friend in the office, right?”

“Oh, um, cool. For sure,” she mumbled as she brushed her buoyant curls forward to hide the nervous expression on her face. “You’re mine, too.”

“Which is why I trust you more than anyone else here. I know you’re a few years younger than I am, but I swear you know more about everything than I do, and you’d never steer me wrong.”

Vi’s excitement fumbled for a minute though she clung as best she could to it. “I try. What’s going on?”

Henry squared up to her then, and at last, her fantasy seemed within her reach. When he swiveled, his knees bumped hers, and he patted the swath of her bare thigh apologetically, sending a rush through her body like someone had blown a huge head of dandelion seeds along her skin. He leaned in a little closer with a dopey grin. He rubbed a hand on the back of his head as his coffee skin glowed in the filtered sunlight.

Here it was, Vi’s favorite trait of his. Henry might be menacingly hot, but he was also a geek at heart, so after he railed into her, she pictured them drifting off to some anime in the background.

Henry cleared his throat. “How soon is too soon to call someone after hooking up?”

What was left of Vi’s quesadilla slipped off her lap and tumbled upside down on the sidewalk. She was too stunned by his question though to pay attention to it.

“What?” she managed through a slack jaw.

Henry glanced at her food and frowned. Since she didn’t make a move for it, he picked it back up and put it between them on the bench. “Uh, Desiree and I hooked up last night, and even though I know you’re not a hook-up kind of girl, you are a girl and I trust you. I’m sure your friends have talked about this kind of stuff before, so you would have the inside track. I mean, I definitely want to hook up again, but isn’t it, like, sending the wrong kind of signal if I ask her to meet up again already? I mean, it’s not like either of us want a relationship, so I don’t want to scare her off.”

“You and Desiree hooked up?” Vi asked hollowly.

She pictured their other coworker, a bombshell of a woman if Vi had ever seen one in real life. Desiree was one of the company’s lawyers on staff, who was very successful at what she did, though Vi was sure that was due at least in part to the fact that she was so attractive, it made people want to give in to her regardless of their legal arguments. Desiree was tall and slender, with sleek ironed hair to the small of her back, which she always flaunted at the exact right moment with a full-body twirl to swing it over her shoulder. She was never without a pair of stilettos, a pencil skirt, and her signature ruby lipstick that made her warm nutmeg skin shimmer.

In one fell swoop, Vi had been ground to a pulp under the other woman’s pointed heel, and she wasn’t even here.

“Yeah, finally,” Henry beamed again, “after, what? The sixth time I asked?”

“I didn’t know you were into her…”

“Isn’t everybody?” he laughed. “She’s crazy hot.”

Vi did her best to keep her voice measured. “But you don’t want to date her?”

Henry shrugged. “I don’t want to date anyone. Too much baggage, I guess. This is so much easier. No feelings, no problems. Just fun, you know?”

She let out a long breath and sagged with it. “Yeah, I know. That’s sort of my best friend’s M.O., too.”

“See? I knew you’d know what to do. So, how soon is too soon?”

Vi pictured Changkyun now. Like Desiree, he was irresistible. With his black hair long enough to tie up in a little ponytail and sharp chin and even sharper cheeks, he cut an imposing figure, especially when he was sporting his favorite leather jacket and cologne. Vi called him catnip for women, and he never argued. He went through them like bottles of wine—savored for a night and tossed aside. The feminist side of her had, at times, wanted to be angry about it, but she’d never met one of his girls who had a complaint. Besides, the girls knew what they would be getting out of their night with him. Vi had always been the perennially out-of-touch one.

She toyed with the hem of her skirt as she answered, “I don’t think he ever repeats hookups honestly, so I don’t think he ever calls any of them back. I guess I’d say wait a few days though because, you’re right, if it were me and you hit me up the next day, I’d think you really liked me.”

Vi couldn’t help the stiffness in her voice, but Henry didn’t seem to notice. He was listening to her words, not to her, and nodding along.

“That’s what I thought. Is it okay if I ask her closer to the weekend? She’s not going to think that’s a date since it’s the weekend, right?”

“I don’t know, Henry. For someone who wanted something simple, you’re sure making this complicated.”

Her coworker did a double take at the barb in Vi’s tone, his full brows raised high. “Whoa, you okay?”

“Fine.”

Henry eyed her but said, “I get it. You’re right. I should just roll with it. Who knows? Maybe she’ll come to me.”

“Maybe.”

Vi stood and walked her quesadilla to the garbage can as he called, “Going in already? We still have twenty minutes?”

“Yeah, my lunch is ruined anyway. Thanks for paying. I’ll get you back someday.”

“You don’t need to—”

But she waved him off. “That’s what friends do. I’ll see you inside?”

Henry nodded slowly. He was obviously confused, but Vi needed to get back to her office before the sun exposed the heartbreak lurking under her skin.

“Sorry, I’m late,” came the cool voice as the door to her apartment opened and shut. “Work ran over, but I stopped by the liquor store to make up for it. How'd it go with Henry?”

Changkyun turned toward the kitchen and sighed.

“Oh shit. The depression hoodie.”

Vi slouched at her breakfast bar, wrapped up in her oversized Eeyore hoodie, the hood itself cinched tightly around her cherub face with its yarn mane fluttering every time the oscillating fan craned its head her way. She looked up at her best friend from under the curtain of her curls and pouted her bottom lip.

“Hey,” she said pitifully.

“Hey. You okay?”

“I’m okay.”

Changkyun pulled out a stool opposite hers and sat down, his eyes trained carefully on her.

“So…” he said. “I'm a little confused.”

Vi rolled her head on her hands to stare at him. “Why are you confused?”

“I thought that you said this guy was smart? Like, some big-time analyst or something.”

“He's both.”

“Well, he can't be that smart if he rejected you.”

“He didn't reject me,” she grumbled. “At least, he didn't know he did. He asked me to lunch just so he could get advice from his ‘cute’ office buddy about his ‘hot’ office hook-up.”

“Come again?” Changkyun said as he glared into space.

Vi sighed. “Seems he’s taking a page out of the Im Changkyun Friday-night playbook—fun and done. Well, maybe not quite. He wanted to know how soon is too soon to make another booty call.”

“Hey, you know that’s not my playbook. Repeats are too complicated. This idiot just wants— You know what? Fuck him.”

Her head sank to the counter, where her forehead rocked against the cold laminate.

That’s what I was trying to do, she grumbled to herself.

“At least I was psychic enough to grab your favorite booze on my way over.” Her best friend thumped a bottle of peach schnapps on the counter and petted the mane on her hoodie encouragingly.

She sighed resignedly. “See? You knew I was doomed to failure.”

“Oh, knock it off, Viola. Now, we're going to drink this together, and we're going to toast to Henry's inevitable STD.”

At this, Vi shot back up. “Kyun!”

Her friend just shrugged a shoulder along with an eyebrow as he rooted through the cabinet over the refrigerator and pulled out two shot glasses. Liquor sloshed in the cups as the smell of boozy peaches tickled their nostrils.

“Down the hatch, Flowers,” he instructed, and together, they tossed back their first shot.

The liquor burned a little though the sweetness dulled that quite a bit, and not a second later, Vi shoved the shot glass across for a refill. The second shot went down even easier than the first, and by the third, it was just like taking shots of juice except she could wallow less.

“In retrospect,” she said as she scrounged through her cupboard for something salty to snack on, “shy librarian was maybe the wrong way to approach a guy these days.”

Changkyun’s brow scrunched. “What’s wrong with a shy librarian?”

“Nothing. She’s just not the girl who catches the attention. We’re living in the era of Instagram models. A guy like you is not taking a girl like me home. I have to face that.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he challenged, “and I resent it.”

“I love you, Kyun, and you can resent it all you want, but I have never seen you with a shy librarian on your arm.”

He scowled, but he couldn’t argue because facts were facts. “That’s not because I don’t find them attractive.”

“No, it’s because you assume they all want to tie you down. Sometimes we just want to get railed.”

Changkyun nearly spit his drink across the counter, but instead, he choked it down and finished out a coughing fit. Between wheezes, he managed, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m tired of being the cute girl that has to settle for vanilla sex in a long-term relationship. I’ve had plenty of that, and it was fine for a while, but maybe I want some meaningless hot sex, too. Why not? I’m single.”

“No, I know that, but—”

“See? I can tell from that ‘but’ that you would never expect a 'cute' girl like me to want something like that. Cute girls like fuzzy sweaters and stuffed animals and those teeny little pastries that you eat in one bite.”

“Okay, but you do like those things,” Changkyun reminded.

“Yeah, I know, but I also like sex, and I want more of it.”

“Are you seriously trying to tell me that my best friend since second grade, who once invited me to her My Little Pony party, oh, and made me wear matching onesie Christmas pajamas last year, wants a—” The bottom fell out in his voice and, despite his casual appearance and even more casual attitude to relationships, he whispered, “—fuck buddy?”

“Or a few one-night-stands. I’m not picky.”

Changkyun stared blankly across the counter. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“See? This is my point. No guy like you is going to even consider sleeping with me because you assume I’m going to bring the baggage of a relationship. Well, I want a break from that shit, too. This is where you come in.”

“Whoa, Viola, I know that—”

“Shut up for a second, would ya? I’m not trying to guilt you into sex, Kyun, but I do want your help.”

At this, her best friend cocked his head. “My help?”

She leaned across the counter and locked eyes with Changkyun. She could see his nerves in the hard press of his lips, but she knew he was the only guy she could trust with this, so she soldiered on, emboldened by a bad fucking day and good fucking alcohol. “You've done this a lot. This is your wheelhouse. Teach me, sempai. Show me how to be a hot girl.”

He sighed and rolled his head back. “Why do you want to be a quote-unquote hot girl, Viola? They're a dime a dozen.”

“Because hot girls get laid,” she said frankly.

Changkyun scoffed. “You’re not a virgin, and you’re hot as is.”

“You have to say that as my best friend, but also, you’re not trying to sleep with me. You and I are in two different leagues of attractive, Kyun. You’re made up of all kinds of sharp angles—you’re objectively hot. I’m a freaking circle. Don’t say it—don’t say it. I know I’m not ugly, okay, but the fact of the matter is I want to be less Shirley Temple and more Naomi Campbell. You can show me how! All you do is interact with people who ooze sexiness. So, just walk me through the things that clue you in that a girl just wants to sleep with you and we can move on.”

“I don’t think I’m comfortable with this,” he admitted.

“Because you think I’m a hopeless case?”

“Because I think you’ll get hurt.”

Vi’s apartment had never felt so quiet. It was like a vacuum, where all sound and light had been siphoned away. She felt the irrational urge to cry, but she wasn’t exactly sure why, and she pulled her hoodie tightly over her head again.

Changkyun frowned apologetically. “I’m worried you’re only saying this because you’re a little drunk and a lot hurt already. That’s a bad recipe to start making new life choices.”

“Thanks, Dr. Phil. It’s fine. Forget it. You don’t need to say anymore.”

But he refused to leave it at that. He laid his head on the counter so he was back in her sulky line-of-sight, and he smiled reassuringly. “I don’t think you’re a hopeless case, by the way. It’s just that you’re already so beautiful. You deserve more. I want more for you.”

“Okay, but you don’t get to make that decision for me, just like I can’t make you help me with this.”

Changkyun growled. “You're doing all this because of stupid Henry?”

“No!”

“Really? Because you’ve never said any of this stuff before today.”

Vi leapt up from her seat so she could lean back against the sink and stuff her arms across her chest. “Maybe I was embarrassed to, but after the humiliation I suffered this afternoon, I’m done caring about that. If everyone else can just go after what they want, why can’t I?”

“I get it. It’s just… What's so great about hot girls?”

“You tell me. You bed one a week.”

“‘Bed one?’” he laughed.

“You're only making my point. I’m hopeless without you, Kyun, see?” she whined. She darted back to the breakfast bar next to him as she sensed the first hint of caving.

“Viola, is this what you really want? Some guy who just sleeps with you and doesn't call you ever again?”

She ran her fingertip around the rim of her shot glass as she considered Changkyun’s words. “I know you think I’m just saying this because of today, but what do you think today was about in the first place? Yeah, maybe I had a crush on Henry first, and that’s probably the exact wrong way to start something casual, but it wasn’t like I wanted to marry the guy either. You know I've only done the committed thing. What’s so wrong with wanting to explore something new, especially when I see you having an endless good time?”

“It’s really not like that,” he asserted as he took another shot.

She waited for him to finish his thought, but, typical Changkyun, he held back the full breadth of his feelings, and even though Vi knew him better than anyone else, some days it felt like she only knew the tip of the iceberg.

“Yeah, I'm the guy you fuck, but I’m not the one you end up with. Just so we’re both clear, I know jack shit about love.”

“Exactly! You’re perfect. You know what guys like you are looking for. You can be my tutor and my wingman.”

“It’s just a little weird that I’m your best friend. My job has always been to keep you away from guys like me.”

“You’re doing a terrible job then, bestie,” she teased as she nudged his knuckles with her own.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, so for now, let’s just change our title to friends with benefits, okay?”

Changkyun rolled his eyes. “That’s not what that means.”

“I know. I’m trying to be clever.”

He stood up from the bar and waltzed into the living room, hands in his baggy jean pockets. Vi could tell from the way his iris tattoo flexed on his forearm that he was balling his fists, but at least he seemed to be taking her seriously. He paced behind the back of the couch before he leaned on it. His head whipped toward her as he said firmly, “If I do this, we need ground rules.”

“You got it, teach.”

Vi shucked off the Eeyore hoodie and tossed it on the counter as she raced into the kitchen and started rifling through her junk drawer.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting a pen and paper?”

Changkyun laughed. “Of course you are.”

“Hey, organization can be hot, too,” she objected. “And everybody likes a good listener, right?”

At this, her friend paused, stone still as he stared at her. Only when she waggled the pen at him did he blink and nod.

“You said I'm the expert,” Changkyun began, “so I expect you to listen to everything I have to say whether you want to hear it or not.”

Vi scrawled a quick note as she said, “You got it.”

“That means I go with you to clubs and bars when you want to meet guys so I can vet them.”

“Makes sense.”

“And if I don't get a good feeling about somebody you’re pursuing, you drop it instantly.”

“Fair enough.”

Changkyun cleared his throat to lift her attention from her notes. “Instantly, Viola. I mean it. I know how headstrong you can be when you think you're right, but I know the players and the game.”

“I know you do, and I’m not arguing, am I? See? Good listener.”

Again, he gave her a funny stare, and she felt that same sense that he was keeping things from her despite their current conversation.

But then he let out a breath and leaned forward, his hands falling to steady him on the back of the couch. “If you're uncomfortable with anything, you tell me. You don't have to do things just because you think it's what you think you should be doing.”

“I get how limits work, Kyun,” Vi said, a little annoyed, but he shook his head.

“I'm not just talking about bedroom stuff. If something doesn't feel like you, then I don't want you to do it.”

“I said okay…”

“I'm serious. Write it down. It’s the only way I'm agreeing to this.” Changkyun stared hard at her notepad until she finally got over her shock at his force and jotted his words down.

“I hear you, I hear you,” she grumbled.

“You trust me, right?” he asked with an intensity that Vi had rarely heard from him.

“Of course I trust you.”

There was a shift in the room now. Somehow, the temperature both seemed to plummet and soar at the same time, and Vi felt very disoriented. She was glad for the wall behind her or she might have tripped over nothing.

“Good. I want you to trust me enough to tell me absolutely everything,” said Changkyun. Despite how intimidating the man’s aura could be, right now, he was drawing her in closer and closer with those black hole eyes and bittersweet chocolatey voice. “I don't want you to be afraid to tell me all the things you want or like. You know me, I'm the last person in the world who would judge you, but that doesn’t mean it might not surprise me.”

“You mean like I already surprised you tonight?” Vi ribbed lightly.

“Yeah, but now that I know this is what you really want, I'm going to make sure you get it all.”

“Ah… Oh…” she fumbled and hoped she didn't give herself away at the unintentional innuendo. If she wanted him to take her seriously, she didn't want to look like a preteen in front of him. “Thanks, Kyunnie.”

He smirked. “You sure you want to give up your whole cute schtick? I’m pretty fond of it.”

“I mean, I don't have to give it up? I just want to shove it aside for a few hours while I get railed.”

That wiped the smirk right off his face. “How can I have known you my whole life and you still manage to have secrets?”

Vi shrugged. “Not going to lie, I kind of love the fact that my international man of mystery still thinks I can surprise him.”

Changkyun pressed his lips tightly and crossed his arms as he stared at her until sweat nearly started to bead at her brow. She had always trusted that he would help her, but the way he was examining her motives felt far too penetrating.

“We’re clear on the rules?” he said at last.

Vi nodded and showed them to him just to reiterate how seriously she was taking him. At this, he relaxed into his usual cool slouch.

“There’s one last thing,” he said.

She brought her pen up to the paper and waited eagerly.

“I don’t want this to come between our friendship.”

Instead of writing it down, Vi looked at Changkyun. He didn’t crack a smile or show even a hint of softness; he just met her gaze for gaze.

“Why would it?” she pressed.

“Things like sex usually do,” he said with a shrug of a shoulder.

“Yeah, but we’re not having sex…”

“I know.”

“So what are you worried about?” she asked.

“You,” replied Changkyun. “I’m always worried about you.”

Vi lowered her notes and came to sit beside her best friend on the back of the couch. Sincerely, she said, “And that’s why I knew I could trust you with this.”

“You can trust me with anything.”

“Because you’ll take care of me,” she finished with a smile.

“Because I’ll always take care of you.”

Changkyun’s words hung before he stood up, stuffed his hands back into his pockets, and headed back to the booze. He poured himself another shot and then one for her and brought it over. With glasses in hands, he raised his and said, “A toast to our unholy alliance.”

“To the new me,” she added. At this, he scowled, and Vi amended, “To a more adventurous me.”

“Better. I’ll drink to that.”

With another shot down, Vi felt the best she had all day. She let out a quick victory squeal before she announced, “I’m going to go get cozy real quick, then we'll dig in.”

“Already? You don't want to sleep on this first?”

“Carpe diem!” she called over her shoulder, and when she came back, she was cocooned in her favorite silk pajamas.

Vi crisscrossed her legs underneath her as she settled onto the sofa, notepad in her lap.

“Okay, since I’ve been thinking about this all afternoon, I’m going to grab the list I already came up with, and then the resident sex expert can chime in, ‘kay?”

Changkyun raised an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know any better, I might think I’ve been played.”

“So, maybe I’ve been thinking about this for a while more than I let on, but since everything went to absolute hell on my own, I had to fess up. And lucky for me, I have the greatest guy in the world for a friend.”

“A better friend would talk you out of this,” he objected.

“No way. You’re supporting me and backing me up? Best friend in the galaxy.”

“You don’t need to keep buttering me up. I already said yes.”

“Nah, I’m being serious, Kyun. Thank you.”

He nodded and emptied the last drops in his glass before he sidled up behind her on the couch and leaned over her shoulder.

Notepad still out, this time on the coffee table, Vi flipped back a page and stared at the list she had been jotting down the past week whenever the thoughts had occurred to her.

Hot girls:

Don't wear underwear

Don't wear glasses unless they're sunglasses

Flaunt their assets (short dresses, body-hugging, glitter???)

Get manicures

“Should I get hair extensions?” she pondered as she studied the bullet points.

“Absolutely not,” Changkyun said firmly.

“All the babes on Instagram have them.”

He sighed. “Long hair doesn't automatically make you hot, nor does any of this insanity you insisted on writing down.”

But her friend’s words barely registered as she scrunched the tips of her curls idly. “I feel like my bob says school girl or Karen or probably, definitely, librarian, and we all know I’m sick of that fate, so maybe?”

“I love your hair on you.”

At this, Vi lowered her pen. “Are you saying that as Kyun my best friend or Kyun the lady killer?”

“I'm saying it as a man to a woman. Don't change it unless you genuinely want to change it.”

“Maybe I should just stop wearing it curly then? Too Shirley Temple. Maybe I should iron it or something.”

Changkyun fell into silence back as he munched on a bag of snacks he’d pilfered from her cupboard. He stared off into space while her brow furrowed deeper and deeper.

“You’re supposed to be helping me,” Vi complained.

“What do you want me to add? You’ve vetoed everything I’ve said so far.”

“Exactly. So what does that tell you?”

Her best friend shot her a stern glare as he said, “That you’re awesome exactly the way you are?”

“I don’t just want to be awesome, Kyun. I want to be hot. I’m just going by the girls I’ve seen you take home. Don’t even try and pretend I’m just making this stuff up either. I do have eyes, sir.” She waggled her list at him, but he didn’t say anything. “Come on! Give me one thing you look for in a girl you just want to sleep with.”

Changkyun pressed his lips together as he considered. After a moment, he said, “The way she looks at me.”

At his first helpful answer, Vi sat forward, elbows on her now-pajamaed knees. “Ooh, how’s that?”

“I guess it’s kind of hard to describe. Each girl has her own way of doing it, but it all translates the same.”

He left it at that, and she growled. “And? What way is that!”

“I don’t know,” he said through a crunch of a cracker. “Like she wants to fuck me.”

Vi choked a little at his frank words, and she thumped her chest with her fist hoping to dislodge the knot there.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she wheezed and held a few deep breaths to right herself. “Just wasn’t expecting you to say it like that.”

“Hey, if you want to try casual sex, you’re going to have to get used to being direct about it.”

“Hm,” Vi considered as the wheels in her brain began to spin again.

This time, she wrote down “Serve sexy eyes” on the page and then tapped the pen against her lips before she added “Talk dirty” underneath.

“You’re pulling your weight at last, Kyun,” she said triumphantly. “Give me one more thing, and I’ll stop twisting your arm.”

Changkyun sighed in relief. “Perfect. Then I’ll say dancing. I narrow down my options from the way she moves her body. That tells me all I need to know.”

“Sexy mating dance, got it,” Vi repeated as she wrote it down.

Her best friend let out an incredulous laugh. “This is going to go over like a lead balloon.”

“Hey!”

“You’re the one who said it like we’re some nature doc or something. Looks like it’s going to be harder to shed your librarian alter ego than you think.”

Vi launched up from the couch and leaned on the counter shoulder-to-shoulder with Changkyun. “That’s why my best friend is going to Cyrano De Bergerac me through it.”

“Nerd.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stow the literary references for after the sex. I suppose they could be a mood killer in this particular scenario. So, let’s say I give them the right bedroom eyes and do the mating dance and then add the sexy, flirty talk to seal the deal. Do I bring them back here then, or…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Changkyun. “Walk before you run, okay?”

Vi shrugged. “It’s just, wouldn’t it make sense to bring them here? I’m in between roommates anyway, so I have the place to myself, and it wouldn’t bother any—”

This time, his hands clapped against the counter, and it resounded in the tiny living room. “Viola, you’re not bringing a strange guy home to an empty place.”

“Huh… Yeah, I didn’t think about that. So his place?”

“Shit. Okay, you’re already in high gear, and we’re not even out of the garage yet.” Changkyun yanked the notepad toward him and grumbled tightly as he scrawled each word, “Hot girls stay alert.”

Vi popped an eyebrow as she echoed the sentence. “Yeah, I don’t know if that's really a thing.”

“Well, it's about to be this hot girl’s thing,” he insisted. “You need to think with your head and not—”

“Not my downstairs, got it.”

Changkyun chuckled in spite of the serious turn in their planning.

“What about after a couple of hookups?” she asked, but he sighed.

“Again, you need to slow down. I don't think you want to jump headfirst into a fuck buddy relationship.”

“Why not? What if the sex is really good and we want to keep going?”

Changkyun shook his head. “You catch feelings way too easily, Flowers. No. No way. The point is sex, not strings, right?”

“Yeah, but what if it really is just mind-blowing sex with no strings?”

“Look, you said you wanted to feel hot and have fun. I'm going to make sure that happens, but if you're looking for something more to come out of it, I can't help you. The guys we’re looking at aren't going to be the kind of guys that I want you to repeat. My goal is to get you laid, not break your heart.”

“Okay, okay,” she said as she added a new note.

Keep it simple.

Changkyun glanced at it and gave a subtle nod. “Good. That one’s going to be tough for you.”

“You’re so wrong about that,” Vi challenged.

“How’s that? Even your pajamas require a Masters degree to put on or, more importantly, take off.” He gestured toward her two-piece set, the collared top featuring a full row of buttons and the matching bottoms tied with a quaint bow.

“What do you sleep in then, hot shot?”

Changkyun raised an eyebrow. “I sleep naked. Doesn’t get much simpler than that.”

The image hung, and Vi could feel her whole body heating.

“Fine, whatever. I’ll get new jammies, too, if it’ll make you happy.”

“I’m teasing you, Viola. I’m happy so long as you’re happy, Fort Knox pajamas or not,” he added with a hooked grin.

“Moving on!” she sang. “Back to these girls you take home. They probably know a lot of cool tricks and stuff, huh?”

“First of all, we don’t always make it back to a bedroom. Depends on the moment. You’ll get a sense pretty quickly where the night is heading one way or another, so just trust that feeling. Second, they’re not really tricks. It’s just… stuff you pick up from trying new things. If you’re feeling it, you can try it. A man worth your time is going to be open to experiencing them with you. You can just ask, and if he’s a dick about any of it, you can leave. If he gives you shit, you let me know. I’m already on your speed dial.”

Vi didn’t say anything and his eyes narrowed.

“Right?” he pressed.

She laughed. “Of course. You’re my first. Just don’t tell my mom.”

Changkyun softened and nodded once. “Okay, good.”

She smiled gently at her best friend before she turned back to her list to add one last item.

Try new positions in new places

When she was done, she studied it a few times over as she switched to pacing the living room.

“Okay, so looking at this, my plan of attack should be: new wardrobe, makeover, dirty talk lessons, and you should probably show me this fancy mating dance you mentioned. Ooh, do you think I should read the Kama Sutra, too?”

Changkyun laughed even as his head dropped into his hands. “You are going into this exactly like I thought you would. How about we just do a little at a time to ease you into all of this because, otherwise, it’s going to feel like you took a dive headfirst into an empty pool. I want to build your confidence naturally, okay? We’ll do it together like I promised.”

Vi nodded and practically collapsed under the relief she felt. It was overwhelming. Her whole life, despite her careful planning, she had taken everything two steps at a time, like running up stairs, but she’d also wiped out more than a few times that way. At least with her best friend by her side, he could catch her.

“Why don't you go shopping first for some new clothes. Buy something that makes you feel good.”

“Cool, okay. That's actually a really good idea. You can tell me what guys will find hot.”

But Changkyun shook his head. “Take Nijah or Tara.”

“No, Kyun. Come on. Nijah knits her own turtlenecks, and Tara is an actual librarian. I adore them, but they're not the people I want to go to for hot girl fashion advice. You are.” He considered for a moment, and Vi didn’t want to miss out on her chance, so she added with a soft smile, “I know you won't just tell me what I want to hear, but I also know that you'll hype me up better than anyone else could. If you want me to build confidence, I need my best, most trusted friend in the whole world. Besides, didn’t you just say we’d do things together? Pretty please?”

She batted her eyelashes cartoonishly, and, with a roll of his eyes, he caved. “Fine.”

“Ha ha, I knew it. You can never say no to me when I beg,” she gloated.

Changkyun nodded once and dropped his eyes to his lap. “As long as it’s for you and not just these dumb guys.”

“Man, Kyun, if you ever decide to wife up, women everywhere will cry themselves to sleep. They broke the mold with you.”

“You keep this up, and I’m going to get a big head.”

“That’s just another way of saying you like it.” He said nothing, and Vi reveled in her little triumph. “So when can you go shopping with me? Tomorrow after work?”

“Wow, how hard up are you?” he laughed.

She sneered at him, but it was true. It had been months and months since she’d gotten laid and even longer since she’d had an orgasm that wasn’t of her own making; she hadn’t been exaggerating about the boring sex. Someday she would find the guy she could have as much fun with outside of the bedroom as in it, but for now, she needed to break the dam of frustration and self-doubt so she could clear her head enough to focus on the other things.

“The sooner the better, hot shot,” she retorted.

“I can do tomorrow.”

“Sweet! I’ll google some trendy places.”

“Of course you will.”

But as Vi scrolled through search results on her phone, her friend shuffled around her apartment. He stuck his head into the spare room and mumbled, “I would feel better about all of this if you picked a damn roommate already.”

“Yeah, I know, but the last girl I interviewed gave off that party animal vibe, and even if I am looking to loosen up, I’m not losing my deposit. I did really like the guy though, but he said he won’t know if he can move in for a couple more weeks.”

“What guy?”

“You know him. Minhyuk’s cousin.”

Changkyun scowled as he leaned in the bedroom frame. “Isn’t he a lot older?”

Vi shrugged. “Not really. Like, five years. At least it sounds like he has his life together, which is more than I can say, so I think I’ll just wait to see if he can do it. I can afford another month here alone.”

“Are you sure? It’s Vancouver. There’s got to be lots of people looking.”

“Oh, yeah, there are, but I’m not rooming with someone I don’t vibe with.”

“And you vibe with this guy?”

Vi nodded as she jotted down a few store names on her list. “Yeah, he’s about as chill a guy as I’ve ever met, and he gives off that safe, responsible vibe. That’s who you want to room with, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Come to think of it, he might be the perfect roommate for me then. He’s big and sturdy-looking. Maybe he’ll be my bouncer,” she laughed.

Changkyun did not join her.

“If you want, I can ask him to come back and hang with us? It’s probably good anyway that you vibe with him, too, considering how much you’re here.”

Her friend shrugged a shoulder. “That’s okay. You’re right, I already know him.”

“Okay, cool then. I’ll give him the greenlight if he’s down. Man, I’m feeling doubly productive now. Checking all the things off my list! The next time Henry sees me, he’s not going to know what hit him.”

At this, Changkyun’s brow furrowed. “We’re not doing this because of that dickweed.”

“No! No way,” Vi assured. “But there’s nothing wrong with seeing a guy regret ignoring me, right?”

“Mm,” was all her friend said.

“So we’re on for tomorrow?”

“We are.”

“You staying the night tonight?” she asked.

Changkyun’s eyes darted to the spare room, but when he looked back, they were uncharacteristically flat. “I’ve got practice early. My show’s in just a couple weeks, and we can only meet a few times between now and then.”

“Okay,” Vi said cheerfully over her shoulder as she reviewed her notes. “So, you just tell me when you’re free.”

He was quiet for so long that she had to turn around to be sure he hadn’t left, but he was still there, leaning against the wall and staring out the window.

“Kyun?”

His eyes shifted to hers, and that weird little light he had inside switched back on. “I’ll call you before lunch. We’ll figure it out.”

“Cool. Then I’ll take you to dinner after to say thanks.”

From behind the soft, Changkyun leaned over and kissed the crown of her head. “Sounds good. I’m taking the booze, so you can’t get any ideas.”

“I don’t need it now. I have you.”

“Always,” he assured. “Lock the door behind me, all right?”

“Hot girls stay alert!” Vi shouted with a thumbs up, and her friend left a moment later.

When she got up to lock the door as promised, she caught a shadow through the peephole. Changkyun was still there, waiting in the middle of the hallway, though as soon as the click of the deadbolt thundered, he disappeared.

Vi smiled. They really had broken the mold with him.

#monsta x smut #changkyun smut #multichapter #hot girls blank #slow burn #best friends to lovers #romance #third person

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the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake · 4 months

Text

Just A Kid Next Door- Chapter 7

Bruce is finally back from being stuck in the time stream. Tim managed to save Batman and his loved ones. Now it is time for Tim to go home and rest. But the problem is that, Tim has no home. Or that's what he thinks so.

This will be a multichapter fic on how did Tim reconcile with his family. It will be full of angst, family feels and family shenanigans.

Masterlist

Here in the link to read the story in ao3.

-------------------------------CHAPTER 7---------------------------------

Damian couldn’t sleep. But it wasn’t a rare occurrence, because he was sure that every person residing in this house is facing that issue, especially these past couple of months.

For Damian, these past couple of months were….simply put, it was confusing.

He had come to Manor only nine months ago, spent only a solid three months with his father before he died.

Well, before everyone presumed he was dead.

Emotions were not Damian’s best forte, it was Grayson’s. He was born to be the Demon’s head, dangerous and ruthless. He was taught by the league his whole life that feelings are for the weak. That feelings make you vulnerable in front of your opponents.

But in here, with his Father and Grayson, he feels that he can actually let his guard down, which is dangerous. His Mother had always told him to be alert, that anything could happen at any time.

But in Gotham, everything was different. He felt free. He felt devoid of any responsibilities. Which was infuriating. He felt as though he was snatched away from everything he was meant to become.

Coming to a conclusion that sleep is not going to grace him with its presence, Damian got up from his bed, careful not to step on his kitten named after the butler, and made his way to the BatCave.

While on his way to the BatCave, he decided to check on Bruce, who was in a deep slumber.

“tt, Father. You’ve become too soft” he thought.

Making himself a cup of tea, he went to the BatCave.

Grayson and father might be taking a break from their nightly activities, but Damian couldn’t. After all, he is the heir to Batman.

Therefore, it falls upon him to keep a watch on everyone.

Especially on Drake.

Ever since Damian had stepped into the Manor, he had his suspicions on Drake.

Grayson was all loud and affectionate, Todd being too stubborn and nosy, but Drake was always so reserved. And Damian knew that reserved people are often dangerous. And his Mother had already warned him about that placeholder.

It was easier to predict someone whose emotions affect their course of actions. Grayson being fuelled by his urge to do something good and Todd’s anger being reflected on his actions made it easier for Damian. But Drake was unpredictable. He always seemed so calm and calculating.

Drake is dangerous.

Damian had already tried to kill him twice, and it ended up being unsuccessful. Drake is weak, weaker than Damian, but he is gifted in his intelligence. Intelligence that rivalled with that of Batman’s, intelligence that helped him trick his grandfather, intelligence that had brought back his father. He had convinced everyone in the family that he is on their side, that he means no harm. But Damian knew, he knew what kind of person Drake is.

After all, he had Damian’s name on his hit list.

But one thing which did not add up was why Drake was so insistent on saving father. If he truly meant harm to his family, then why did that imbecile risk his life to save Batman?

Groaning, Damian placed his mug on the desk and took his place in front to the Bat Computer.

Even though it all seemed confusing, Damian decided to keep an eye on Drake.

Sighing, Damian logged into some old case files to look for any pending cases that he could solve. It would make his Father understand that Damian is better that all of his useless, not blood related children, and it would also make Grayson happy that Damian is keeping himself productive and not wasting his time like other ten year olds.

Damian went through some case files for the next hour or so. But when he found nothing worth his attention, he decided to call it off and head back to his room. But when was about to do so, he came across an idea.

When Drake had left the Manor, he took nothing with him. Not even spare clothes. That means his locker in the Cave still contain all of his properties.

Grinning to himself of having found something interesting, he made his way to the locker room, to Drake’s old locker.

Picking the lock, Damian started rummaging through Tim’s stuff, desperate to find something useful. But all he did find was few old batrangs, BatTech, solved casefiles and seventeen bags of coffee ground.

No wonder why Drake always seemed like he was haunted by the ghosts of his dead parents.

Scolding himself internally for wasting his time, Damian put back everything in the locker and made his way back. Not even two steps later, Damian’s head was greeted by the floor.

Cursing, Damian stood up and kicked away coffee ground bag that made him slip.

Rubbing his temple, he stared at the bag. While he did so, Damian’s eyes caught a huge rock on the Cave’s wall.

A normal person wouldn’t find any difference, but Damian did. The rock matched with that of cave’s stone wall, but it looked out of place. It looked as though someone had bore a hole on the wall and fixed it after.

His curiosity being piqued, Damian opened his locker, took out his spare Katana and made his way towards the wall.

Carefully, pulling out the rock with the help of the handle of his katana, Damian left his other hand inside the long hole.

When he caught something solid, he pulled his hand out.

Dusting the old looking wooden box that he retrieved from the hole, he carefully opened it.

Damian was surprised to see the contents. The box contained many video tapes, an old looking camera, a journal and few Polaroid.

What actually caught his attention was the name of the tapes. It was named “Project Robin”.

And it dated back to almost five years ago.

Thinking back to who was Robin five years ago, Damian felt like he had hit a jackpot. Finally, he is able to collect some information about Drake.

Grinning, Damian took the box and headed back to his room. It was indeed going to be a long sleepless night.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Groaning, Bruce rolled over and switched off the alarm. Sitting up, careful enough to not pull out any stiches, he got up from his bed.

Bruce’s mind was still foggy, but it was much better. The timestream had messed up with his brain, so all he did the past week was sleep. He slept through the day and the night, except when Alfred wakes him up for bath and food.

Finishing up his morning duties, he got dressed in a hoodie and sweats and made his way downstairs. He decided to break his fast with his family members downstairs. He got his much needed rest, now it is time to spend his time with his family.

Feeling much happier than before, he made his way to the dining room and took his place at the head of the table.

He was the only person in the dining room, as it was a bit early for everyone else. The first person to notice his presence was Alfred, who was carrying a tray containing toasts, eggs and bacon.

He smiled at Bruce warmly as soon as he noticed him.

“I see that you have finally decided to grace us with your presence, Master Bruce.”

“How can I not Alfred, after all I could actually see the sun peeking out of the clouds today. Something very rare in Gotham.” Bruce said, his expression mirroring that of the Butler’s.

Alfred nodded and went back to kitchen to bring out more food.

“By the way Alfred, where are the Childr- ”

“Bruce” A voice exclaimed.

Bruce was suddenly engulfed in a bone crushing hug.

“Good morning, chum”

Dick released him from the hug and took his seat next to the old man.

“Good morning indeed, B” Dick said, his tone too cheerful and happy for a morning.

“Where are the others?” Bruce asked.

“Well, Damian should have been here by now, I don’t know what’s keeping him up, and you know how Jason is, he don’t usually come to the Manor unless it’s important.” Dick replied, helping himself with the food placed in front of him.

“And Duke is with Cass in Hong Kong, they will take the flight back to Gotham tonight.” Dick said, giving a quick smile to Bruce.

“hrn” Bruce grunted affirmatively.

“Good Morning, Baby Bat” Dick said cheerfully, ruffling Damian’s hair as the young boy passed across Dick to take his seat opposite to him.

“I will cut off your fingers, Grayson” Damian hissed.

“Isn’t he just adorable, Bruce” Dick cooed at the young boy.

“Morning Father, Pennyworth” Damian greeted, paying no attention to Dick.

“Good Morning, Damian” Bruce said to the young boy, smiling warmly at him.

Damian nodded, but something was amiss. Damian seemed so…stiffer than usual. The boy was pale and his eyes were bloodshot.

Bruce was not the only one to notice it.

“Did you sleep well last night, Baby bat” Dick asked, concerned.

“Absolutely. What makes you think I did not?” Damian retorted, hesitating.

Leaving the topic aside, the three continued to have their breakfast.

But something was nagging Bruce. He felt as though he was missing something, or rather, missing someone.

Suddenly it hit Bruce.

“Where is Tim?” Bruce asked, Surprised by his own raised voice.

And he was met with complete silence.

Dick’s expression darkened, Damian paled further and Alfred had a worrying expression.

Bruce suddenly felt scared for no reason, felt as though something had shifted in the mood.

“Where is he? Is he in his room? Why haven’t I seen him since I got back?” Bruce asked frantically.

All he was met with was complete silence.

#batfam #tim drake needs a hug #tim drake angst #young justice #alfred pennyworth #jason todd #damian wayne #dick grayson #dick grayson is nightwing #bruce wayne is a good parent #dc comics

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