#this is my tag for chapter 1 and it's still valid for chapter 2

[ekingston]

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

PLEASE check my later versions of this post via my main page to make sure you have the latest version of this post before you reblog. All the information I’ve been able to gather is in my reblogs below, and it's frustrating to see the old version getting passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much!

[honeyhaeya]

(🔐)🖇 ༘ ⋆"How to Date Discreetly"

' ╰┈ "can i go where you go? can we always be this close forever and ever?"

' ' 박성훈 x fem!reader

🎧ྀི 'ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Lover (Taylor Swift)

♫⋆₊˚ ﾟ. 'ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre / tags: idol!sunghoon x idol!reader, ice prince x reckless rookie, secret & established relationship, enemies to lovers (kinda), fluff, smut – MDNI, angst (minor), a pinch of comedy ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: NSFW WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT ! smut, slight jealousy (m), language, detailed explicit scenes, angst (minor), reader on the pill (birth control), mutual hate that’s just actually horny confusion, mild hate (online), – ugh, theyre so in love, its intoxicating ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ smut warnings: unprotected sex (reader doesn't get pregnant, but you might irl, so wrap that shit up), overstimulation, oral (f. receiving), cock riding, rough sex, creampie (lol), praise kink, dirty talk, emotionally charged sex, soft dom hoon, high sex drive hoon ✩‧₊˚ wc: 6003 – 2/2 (mini series) ੈ♡ a/n: this is peak delusion. dont like, dont read. open for constructive critisism but fact checks or logical expected outcome are out of the picture, come on yall, this is fanfiction. this is the last part, y'all, pls enjoyyyy mwuah. be sure to read part 1 ! *^★ playlist: lover (taylor swift), celebrity (iu), they dont know about us (one directon), polaroid love (enhypen)

<to read previous chapter tap the underlined>

you were trembling when they handed you the trophy.

your first win.

lights blinding. fans screaming. camera zooming in.

and just when you thought you couldn’t hold it in anymore—tears starting to fall, your members surrounding you like the sisters they’ve become—

a staff passed you a note.

no name. just: practice room 3b. after stage. alone.

your heart knew before your head could catch up.

so after all the cameras stopped flashing, after the encore ended and you waved goodbye with shaky hands—

you went.

and there he was.

sunghoon, leaned against the mirror, hoodie pulled over his cap, eyes meeting yours like he’d been waiting forever.

you walked in and locked the door.

“you came,” you whispered, not quite believing it.

“of course i did,” he said. “you won.”

“we won,” you whispered, and that’s when he crossed the room and pulled you into a hug so tight your knees nearly gave out.

“i’m so proud of you,” he murmured into your hair. “i watched it live. twice.”

you laughed into his chest. “i tripped during the dance break.”

“and still looked better than me every comeback.”

you grinned. “no one’s ever looked better than you during bite me era.”

“...valid.”

and then you stayed like that, forehead to forehead, laughing softly and just being.

just breathing each other in like the chaos of the world couldn’t find you there.

a week later

the fandom wasn’t ready.

a short collab tiktok. your new dance challenge.

you posted it with your leader.

he posted it with you.

and fans went feral.

“wait. is that sunghoon and y/n???” “don’t play with me—this is a power collab” “why are they so… flirty? HUH???” “they have matching energy idc this is my otp now”

even some idols reposted it with captions like “siblings or dating???” and “get a room but make it cute”

you both just smiled and ignored the chaos.

a few weeks later

the photo spread across stan twitter like wildfire.

a local park. grainy zoom.

a girl in an oversized tee and denim shorts, cap low, platinum-blonde strands peeking out.

a guy in a hoodie and mask, arms swinging beside hers, sneakers kicking up sand as they teased and fake-ran after each other.

laughing.

laughing like they had nothing to hide.

laughing like they forgot the world existed.

“wait is that them—” “sunghoon and y/n in public?!” “no way that’s not them” “i actually think this is kind of sweet???” “you can tell they’ve been in love for a long time”

of course, some fans weren’t having it.

“if it’s true i’m unfollowing” “he should focus on his career” “i don’t support this at all”

but for every hater, there were two fans saying:

“they deserve happiness” “you can tell they make each other so happy it’s insane” “i want a love like this…”

and behind closed doors, in their bubble of stolen glances and whispered phone calls and late-night snack deliveries—

you and sunghoon just smiled.

because maybe the world didn’t know for sure.

but you both did.

and that was enough.

he didn’t even say hi.

not even a “you look beautiful,” or a “i missed you”—though god knows he did. months of schedules, oceans apart, stolen glances through screens that never felt like enough.

but the moment the door shut behind you, he was already moving. one step. two. arms around your waist, lips crashing into yours like he’d been holding his breath this whole time.

your back hit the wall gently, his hands framing your face, breath trembling as if you were something fragile, sacred.

he didn’t rush. didn’t speak. just kissed you like the world had been unbearably quiet without you.

you tasted like home.

and he tasted like longing.

his lips moved with yours, slow but deep. his hands were over your waist, pulling your body close to him.

he moved fast—you didn’t even notice his hands slipping under the fabric of your shirt, touching your bare skin. you gasped, trying to question what was going on, but he just took that moment to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. your knees buckled, but he was there to hold you. he always was.

sunghoon lifted you like you weighed nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist instantly. he didn’t pull away until he laid you gently on the bed, like you were fragile glass.

his lips trailed to your cheeks, your jawline, then your neck. his hand held your chin, tilting your face to the side, giving him more access to the soft flesh.

slow. steady. nipping, but not enough to leave marks for the world to see. he was careful. he hated hiding you—hated hiding this. but he had to. for both of your sakes. thank god both your schedules lined up this week. this was his only chance. now or never again.

“hoon… i don’t get it… are you alright?” you asked, your voice soft, your body pliant as you let him kiss you like that. melting beneath him.

he didn’t reply right away. instead, he pressed a kiss to your neck, then rested his head on your stomach, settling between your legs.

“i just… missed you.”

you hummed, your fingers brushing through his soft locks. “that’s obvious. i missed you too,” you replied, giggling when he buried his face deeper into your stomach. it was cute. too cute. “tell me the real reason, pengsoo,” you teased.

he smiled. “you smell good… i want to feel you… like really be inside you,” he murmured, already tugging at your clothes. and you let him.

“it’s so hard. seeing you every once in a while, then you’re gone again,” he continued, your top slipping off, your breath hitching as your bra followed seconds after. his fingers traced your bare skin, teasing your sensitive spots with praise—calling you pretty, soft… intentional with every word.

you felt shy all of a sudden. this was the man you liked, dated, got in trouble with. the one who was always there—but somehow, not really. now he was undressing you. your cheeks heated as he pulled your pants down, and you tried to cover your face.

sunghoon noticed, smiling softly as he grabbed your wrists. “i… i love you.”

your breath caught. your cheeks burned. “…i love you too.”

and then he kissed you again. his hand tugged your panties aside, not even pulling away from your lips, keeping you distracted so you wouldn’t hide. “just tap me twice if you want me to stop,” he murmured between kisses, dipping lower. his fingers found your clit—it was already soaked. you were dripping. your grip tightened on his biceps, nails digging in.

then one finger slid inside you. then two. they curled perfectly, making your back arch, your mouth falling open as you gasped into his. he moved them in and out, finding that one perfect spot that made you moan—loudly, desperately—and he loved it.

he pulled away to watch you, fascinated. your flushed cheeks, your messy hair, your eyes rolling back. your pussy swallowing his fingers. lewd. beautiful. he didn’t even notice how hard he was until you came on his fingers, screaming his name.

“fucking beautiful,” he breathed, stripping down completely until nothing was left between you. he kissed your cheeks, muttering sweet nothings and filth that made you hide your face again.

“see how hard you make me?” he whispered. “i get so fucking mad knowing other guys get to look at you like that.”

you frowned, your hand cupping his face. “i’m yours. always.”

“i’m the only one who gets to see you like this,” he murmured, leaning into your touch.

you nodded, humming. “i want to feel you.”

his cock teased your entrance as he hovered over you, his breath heavy. “p-push it in,” you whispered, holding onto him as he slid in. your walls clenched around him, swallowing him perfectly. you were a moaning mess.

“shit… you’re so tight… perfect,” sunghoon grunted as he finally bottomed out. he stilled, letting you adjust to the stretch, to the overwhelming fullness.

the heat was dizzying. your body felt weightless. then, he drew his hips back and slammed them in again, hard. you screamed, voice cracking.

his pace started slow… but quickly turned feral.

his thrusts were deep, cock dragging along your walls like he was trying to mark you from the inside. the room echoed with the wet, obscene sounds of sex—messy. “fuck, baby,” he growled, lips brushing your ear.

he pulled back just enough to watch. your tits bounced with every thrust, your mouth open in a silent moan, your body wrecked. sunghoon grinned. “so... ha- pretty.”

suddenly, he dropped your thighs and flipped you over like you weighed nothing. he tugged your hips up so you were on your knees, his hand weaving into your hair to arch your back. “you're dripping,” he said, spreading your thighs apart before sliding back in.

you’d never seen him like this. so desperate. so rough. your mind blanked when another sharp thrust hit you.

“hoonnn!” you cried out, face buried in the sheets. his hips slammed into you, hard and fast. you felt every inch.

he leaned over, chest pressed to your back, mouth against your ear. “you like this, baby? you’re fucking perfect,” he rasped.

your moans were muffled,  tears slipping down your cheeks as his fingers rubbed and twisted your clit mercilessly. your whole body was shaking.

he kept pounding into you, his cock slamming your cervix, your walls clenching tight. then, he grabbed your face, turning you to kiss him, searing and possessive.

“mouth,” he ordered.

you obeyed, dazed, and he kissed you, saliva mixing with yours before leaning back, watching you. “swallow it. please…”

you did. drunk on him and gone, and he knew. he could see it all over your face.

“f-fuck! hoonnie! i’m gonna cum!” you moaned, eyes rolling back, sobbing.

you came hard, squirting and soaking his cock. he groaned, pulling out just in time as his cum spilled over your folds, hot and thick. it dripped from your swollen pussy.

“so fucking pretty,” he whispered, staring at you like art—flushed, wrecked, dripping.

he brushed the hair from your face, kissing your cheeks. “you did so well.”

and your arms wrapped around him.

your legs were trembling, body still reeling from your high. your breath came out in short, shaky gasps as sunghoon lay beside you, brushing the sweat-damp strands of hair from your face.

"you okay?" he asked gently, voice husky from all the growling, his lips brushing against your forehead.

you nodded, eyes still glazed. "never better," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his bare torso.

but he just smirked—eyes flicking down between your legs, watching how wrecked and sensitive you were. “good,” he said. “'cause we’re not done yet.”

your eyes widened, and he loved that. the way you blinked up at him, totally ruined but still willing—still eager for more.

he sat up, leaning against the headboard, pulling you gently by the waist until you were straddling his lap.

“i wanna see you ride me,” he murmured, hands stroking your hips like he was sculpting you. “want you to learn how to take me like this. slow, deep—your pace. your rhythm.”

you blushed, chewing your lip. “i don’t really… know how.”

“that’s okay, baby. i’ll teach you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “just trust me.”

you shifted nervously, feeling his cock already getting hard again beneath you. still messy from earlier, twitching against your thigh.

sunghoon reached between you, grabbing the base of his cock, guiding it to your entrance. “sit, baby. go slow,” he said softly.

you lowered yourself, gasping as the tip slipped in. he hissed, gripping your waist tighter.

“fuck… that’s it. just like that.”

inch by inch, you sank down on him, stretching around his length again. you whimpered, gripping his shoulders. “s-sunghoon…”

“you’re doing so well,” he praised, kissing your chest. “so fucking tight. so warm. take all of it.”

when your hips finally met his, you both let out a shaky breath. you felt full, stretched, overwhelmed all over again. but god, the look in his eyes—completely ruined, in awe of you—made it worth it.

he cupped your cheeks, kissed you gently. “okay, baby. now move for me.”

you lifted yourself slowly, then lowered again, moaning softly. “ah—hah, i feel everything…”

“yeah?” he grinned. “you feel how deep i am?”

you nodded, tears forming again from the pressure and pleasure. you started rocking your hips, rolling them in slow, deliberate circles, your hands bracing on his chest. the way he groaned—low, raw, possessive—sent heat straight to your core.

“fuck, just like that,” he said, guiding your hips with his hands, helping you ride him. “you’re so sexy like this… bouncing on my cock, eyes all teary…”

you whimpered, gripping his wrists. “feels so good, hoonnie… wanna make you feel good…”

“you are.” his voice dropped. “you’re my dream, baby.”

his hips started meeting yours halfway, thrusting up into you with each bounce. your thighs were shaking, sweat clinging to your skin, but he didn’t let go—his arms around your waist, lips pressed to your neck.

you picked up the pace, moaning louder, his cock hitting that spot that made your body jolt.

“sunghoon! h-ha, i—i can’t!”

“yes you can,” he growled, eyes dark. “show me how pretty you cum riding me.”

you cried out, your body clenching down around him. “i—i’m cumming! hoonn—!”

he wrapped his arms around you tight as you came undone, hips stuttering, your walls spasming around his cock.

sunghoon groaned, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he buried himself deep, cumming inside you without pulling out.

“fuck… fuckkk, baby…”

he held you there, cock twitching inside you, both of you breathless and slick with sweat and cum.

you collapsed against his chest, and he stroked your back, whispering sweet things as you came down from the high.

“you did so good, baby. best fucking student.”

you giggled weakly. “best teacher.”

he grinned against your skin. “lesson two’s in ten minutes.”

you were slumped against his chest, sticky and spent, your thighs trembling from the effort. sunghoon gently stroked your spine, humming softly like he wasn’t the one who just had you seeing stars.

but then you felt it.

that unmistakable twitch inside you.

you gasped.

“wait—hoon… you’re still hard?”

his voice was pure mischief now, cocky and low in your ear. “i told you. lesson two’s in ten minutes. but you’re such a fast learner…” he tilted your chin up, his smirk deadly. “thought we could skip ahead.”

before you could answer, he was shifting you effortlessly, flipping you onto your back like you weighed nothing. his body hovered over yours—warm, slick, glistening with sweat. the dim lighting made his skin look like gold, hair a tousled mess, and his lips were swollen from kissing you like he needed you to breathe.

“legs up,” he murmured.

you blinked, still hazy. “w-what?”

“legs up, baby. now. hands under your knees. i wanna see everything.”

and god—you obeyed.

he groaned at the view, pupils blown. “fuck, look at this mess… all because of me.”

he didn’t waste a second. he slid back inside with ease—your walls still sensitive, wet, perfect for him. you let out a gasping whimper, eyes flying open.

“too much?” he asked, faux sweet, brushing hair from your face.

you shook your head quickly. “n-no… don’t stop…”

he grinned. “good girl.”

he started slow—too slow—just rocking his hips in lazy, deep thrusts. each roll dragged a moan out of you, your overstimulated body twitching beneath him.

“you’ve taken me so well tonight,” he whispered, lips brushing your cheek. “you’re not even trying to run away now…”

you whimpered, fingers clutching his shoulders.

“you like it when i fill you up, huh?” thrust. “like when i don’t hold back.” thrust. “you were made for this, weren’t you?”

his hips snapped into you harder now, and your moan turned into a cry. your hands scrambled for purchase, nails dragging down his back.

“fuck, you’re squeezing me again,” he groaned, pace quickening. “you gonna cum again, baby?”

“i-i don’t know—hah, too much, i can’t—!”

“yes you can,” he growled, one hand gripping your jaw. “open those pretty eyes and look at me when you fall apart.”

and when you did—legs shaking, eyes rolling, moaning his name like a prayer—he followed right after, pushing deep and cumming with a broken gasp of your name.

he didn’t move for a moment, forehead resting against yours, both of you covered in heat and breathlessness.

finally, he chuckled. “third time’s the charm, huh?”

you could only giggle weakly, completely wrecked.

“my best student,” he whispered, kissing your lips. “but you’re not graduating yet. i’m keeping you in class forever.”

your legs were jelly. like actual, boneless, no-sensation-left jelly. sunghoon didn’t even give you time to whimper about it. no—he just swept you up bridal-style, still looking like he didn’t break a sweat, and padded right into the kitchen with his bare ass on display like he owned the whole goddamn hotel room (and you. very much you).

you blinked as he set you on the cold counter, your skin prickling.

“h-hoon… water first?”

he just smirked. “i’m thirsty, yeah. but not for that.”

you knew that look.

that glint in his eye.

the same one he had the night he bent you over the shower door.

“baby…” you started, weakly trying to protest.

but he already had your knees spread again, palms pressing your thighs apart like he was flipping open a favorite book.

“can’t help it,” he muttered, eyes locked on your completely ruined core. “you look too good like this. like you want me to make a mess in here too.”

“but—countertop—hoon this is a kitchen—”

“and now,” he purred, dragging his length along your entrance with a dark grin, “it’s where i’ll eat you, too.”

you nearly screamed.

he slid in without warning—your whole body arched off the marble. he grabbed your waist, holding you still as he bottomed out again, slow and deliberate.

“still so tight,” he groaned. “after all that?”

you sobbed a little laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“fuck, you’re incredible,” he whispered, forehead pressed against yours. “ruined and perfect and mine.”

his hips started moving, hard and fast—filthy wet sounds echoing with every thrust. your back kept thudding against the cupboards, the fridge humming violently beside you.

“anyone could walk in,” you gasped.

“let them,” he growled, hand wrapping around your throat just enough to make your head spin. “let them see who this pussy belongs to.”

your moan came out wrecked.

he drove into you like a man possessed, the counter rocking beneath your bodies. sweat dripped from his jaw, and his voice went breathless:

“gonna fill you up again,” he whispered, right in your ear. “you’re gonna be leaking me for hours, baby.”

that was all it took—you clenched around him, body trembling, and he lost it, spilling inside you with a hoarse cry of your name.

he collapsed into your chest, both of you panting, sweaty, sticky, and probably going to have to bleach the counter.

after a minute, you groaned, weakly swatting his back.

“what happened to just water?”

he smirked against your skin. “hydration starts with you.”

sunghoon’s still inside you when he leans in and kisses your temple. it’s soft. way too soft for someone who just absolutely demolished you on a hotel kitchen counter.

you’re both still breathing heavy, your chest rising against his, your thighs twitching around his waist.

but hoon doesn’t move.

doesn’t pull out.

just holds you like he’s afraid the moment might dissolve if he lets go.

“baby…” he says it quietly, like he’s scared to break the calm. “we’ve got a little time, right?”

you nod, a little dazed. “mhm.”

he finally smiles. that soft one. the rare kind. the one he only gives when it’s just you and him, wrapped up in the low hum of hotel aircon and the warmth of being close.

“then i’m not done yet.”

your stomach flips.

before you can ask what he means, he’s pulling you off the counter—slowly this time, carefully—and carrying you bridal-style again, lips brushing your shoulder.

“gonna make the most of every second, angel,” he murmurs, eyes dark. “wanna remember how you sound. how you look. how you feel.”

he lays you down on the big hotel bed, sheets still crisp and hot from earlier.

and this time?

he takes his time.

his hands move slow, like he’s memorizing you. lips pressing gentle kisses from your collarbone to your thighs, whispering between every one.

“love how soft you are…”

“god, look at you—so pretty like this…”

“gonna keep you full, baby. wanna stay with you like this until the sun comes up.”

and he does.

there’s no rush. no teasing. just sunghoon, worshipping you like you’re his last good thing in the world.

he kisses every part of you, murmurs praises against your skin, and when he slides into you again—it’s slow. achingly slow. just hips pressed together, foreheads touching, fingers intertwined like he’s holding on for dear life.

you’re not just his tonight.

you’re his home.

and maybe the world outside is chaotic and cold, but here?

with him?

it’s soft. safe. sinful. sacred.

and when he finally falls asleep, arms wrapped around you, lips ghosting “i love you” into your shoulder—you believe him.

.

the sun barely peeks through the hotel curtains, soft light filtering in like it’s trying to give you a break. but no. no peace. not when you’re dealing with park sunghoon.

you’re standing—well, attempting to stand—in front of the mirror, trying to shimmy on your shorts. your legs feel like noodles, your thighs ache, and your hips scream in protest with every movement.

“babe,” you groan, gripping the edge of the dresser for support. “I can’t walk.”

from behind you, he hums—fucking hums—like he didn’t just ruin your entire lower half hours ago.

“you shouldn’t have looked that good last night,” he shrugs from the bed, sheet half-draped over his naked waist, eyes heavy and smug.

you shoot him a look in the mirror. “you say that like it’s my fault my thighs exist.”

he grins. “it is your fault for looking at me like that. like you wanted dessert—and not the kind on the menu.”

“sunghoon—”

but before you can finish, he's behind you, arms slipping around your waist, lips ghosting along the curve of your shoulder. you jolt.

“sunghoon, I’m literally trying to put my pants on—”

“you don’t need pants,” he mumbles, voice low and sleepy and dangerous. “just lay down for a second. just one more.”

“you said ‘just one more’ like four orgasms ago—”

he gently tugs the shorts from your grip, lets them drop to the floor again.

“baby,” he pouts, pressing a kiss to your neck, “can’t help it. you’re walking around all sore and pretty, making those little noises when you bend, acting all shy—what am I supposed to do? respect you?”

you snort. “yes?!?”

but he’s already guiding you back to the bed, back to him, back under the covers where his hands are warm and his mouth is hungry again.

and when he pushes your legs apart, head dipping between your thighs, tongue flicking slow and evil over your inner thigh, you realize—

you’re not walking out of that hotel room soon.

[THE WALK OF “FAME”]

you step out of the hotel with sunglasses too big for your face and a cap pulled so low it nearly hides your whole soul. your body’s still screaming for rest, but your manager’s van is already parked just outside, tinted windows and all. no time to cry.

well—maybe a little whimper when you shift your legs.

you glance down at yourself. hoodie? check. shorts? regretfully, check. confidence? left it in the sheets of that king-sized bed where he is probably still sprawled, proud and shirtless.

your phone buzzes.

sunghoon: you forgot to kiss me goodbye sunghoon: also i found ur sock under the bed lol. want it back or should i keep it as a trophy?

you almost trip over your own feet from laughing. covering your mouth quickly, you slide into the backseat like an embarrassed criminal on the run.

you reply with a selfie—sunglasses, pout, middle finger up.

you: keep it. bury it. i never wanna see that cursed room again. sunghoon: cursed??? wow. so u scream my name like a prayer in cursed places now huh? got it.

you physically bite your lip to keep from smiling too hard, but your manager glances at you in the rearview mirror. you straighten up, pretending you’re just… normal. functional. not completely demolished by park sunghoon.

[THE FANMEET DISASTER THAT WASN’T]

you’d been smiling all day, hearts and polaroids flying, fans whispering sweet words that made you feel lighter. until… he walked in.

disguised in an oversized hoodie, baseball cap, mask—as if that jawline could be hidden. you almost broke character when you recognized the slouch of his shoulders, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap of his bag like a schoolboy with a crush.

you play it cool when he approaches.

"name?" you ask sweetly, not even hiding your smirk.

he tilts his head. “hoon. with an h.”

you scribble it down on his photocard, doodling a heart beside it. "thanks for coming, pengsoo. you’re really cute." then you leaned close, just enough to whisper. "you crazy bastard, if you get recognized I'm out of this."

he stares at you. “...thanks,” he says, flat. and walks away dramatically like he’s the one being played.

[THE VAN]

you finally climb into the random van later, excusing yourself from your manager and members. you even dragged a rookie staff to sit in front so you and hoon could have the entire backseat to yourselves.

as soon as you slide in, sunghoon’s arms cross. he looks away dramatically.

“oh, you’re mad now?” you laugh.

he glares. “so you treat your fans better than you treat me? I waited 40 minutes in line and all I got was a you’re cute and a smile like you didn’t make me almost break the hotel furniture last night.”

you giggle, poking his cheek. “you are cute.”

“not the point!” he whines. “you called me ‘sir’ and everything—who even taught you to be that sweet?!”

you lean in, pressing a teasing kiss to his jaw. “guess I’m just that good.”

he sighs dramatically, already pulling you into his lap.

"you're gonna pay for this. you know that, right?"

you blink innocently. “what’re you gonna do? break my legs again?”

he narrows his eyes.

“…worse. I’m gonna make you fall harder.”

the van rolls through the city, a lazy sunset washing golden light over tinted windows. you’re curled into sunghoon’s lap, hoodie sleeves hiding the way your fingers keep sneaking up his sides to poke him like you’re five.

“stop,” he says, grinning, arms wrapping around your waist. “you’re gonna get us caught.”

“you started it!” you whisper back, smacking his arm as he leans in to nuzzle your neck.

“oh my god—hoon, shh,” you giggle breathlessly, swatting at him again. “what if they hear?”

he chuckles, voice low and teasing against your ear. “shoot, haha.”

and then his hands are moving—fingers spidering up your sides, making you yelp as he tickles you mercilessly.

you squirm in his lap, laughing, trying not to be loud, but his mouth is curled in that smug smirk that means he’s enjoying every second of this.

“you’re evil!” you gasp, face warm, breath hitching when you shift and feel—

“…you’re hard,” you say flatly, raising a brow, hair all over your face as you freeze in his lap.

he stops tickling, blinking at you.

“you’re definitely hard,” you repeat, a little louder, a little smugger.

sunghoon rolls his eyes. “you’re squirming in my lap like a cute little worm, what do you expect?”

you smack him again. “don’t call me a worm when you’re—”

“raging. yeah. your fault.”

you stare at him, flustered, breathless, laughing, your forehead pressed against his shoulder as you try to calm your heart—and everything else he just activated.

“I hate you,” you whisper.

“you love me,” he whispers back, arms tightening around you like he’s scared you’ll vanish.

and you do. you really do. even if he’s currently a menace in every sense.

up front, your manager exchanges a knowing glance with hoon’s, the two of them scrolling on their phones, pretending they didn’t hear any of that.

the rookie staff just sips her coffee.

“…she’s really quiet today,” she comments.

both managers nod.

“yup. probably just tired,” hoon’s manager says, deadpan.

they’ve all known for months.

they’re just pretending they don’t.

because the love these two idiots have? it’s the kind that can’t be managed out of them anyway.

the rooftop was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of fairy lights they’d strung up in a rush. takeout containers litter the picnic blanket they brought, drinks sweating in the evening air, and the city lights below blink like they’re watching—silent witnesses to a love that never stood still.

you’re lying beside him, his hoodie pulled over your head, sleeves long enough to swallow your hands. sunghoon’s cap is low on his face, but the smile he’s been wearing all night? yeah. nothing could hide that.

“you know we’re not really disguised, right?” you murmur, nudging him with your knee. “we look like staff, sure, but we still shine like dumbass stars.”

he snorts, hand reaching out to hold yours. “it’s because we are stars. duh.”

you laugh, the sound soft and small and just for him. your manager had reluctantly agreed to this—one last date before he leaves with his members tomorrow. they’d whispered, “make it quick,” but they knew damn well these fools wouldn’t listen. love like this doesn’t follow call times.

hoon sits up, arms stretched over his head as he yawns. “should we go?”

“you wanna go?”

“no.”

you grin. “then stay.”

and just like that, he pounces.

you squeal, trying to escape, but he’s already chasing you around the rooftop like a lovesick idiot. he catches you by the waist, spinning you, your laughter echoing into the sky as you crash onto the blanket again, breathless and tangled.

“you’re crazy,” you whisper.

“you’re stuck with me,” he whispers back, nose brushing yours.

and then he kisses you.

slow at first. gentle. like he’s memorizing the shape of your lips, the taste of you, the way your breath stutters when he pulls you closer.

but it doesn’t stay slow.

not when you cup his face. not when your hands disappear under his hoodie. not when he presses you into the blanket with a soft groan like he’s trying to mold your bodies into one.

his hand slips under your shirt, warm and reverent, like he’s trying to say goodbye without ever using the word.

you kiss him harder, just to shut the sadness up.

because tomorrow’s coming.

and he’s leaving.

but tonight?

tonight, he’s yours.

in every laugh.

in every kiss.

in every heartbeat pressed against yours.

it’s quieter than usual in the company building. late, after practice hours, when everyone’s tired and scattered. the hallways are mostly empty except for you and sunghoon, sneaking through the dimly lit space like you’ve got all the time in the world… but neither of you do.

you stop in front of a door tucked at the end of the hallway—a secluded little area you two like to use when no one’s around. the walls here are soft and quiet, like they understand the weight of your secret love. hoon looks down at you, his face unreadable for a second before his lips pull into a smile, a bittersweet one.

“this is it, huh?” you whisper, looking up at him.

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he just pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around your waist like it’s the only thing that makes sense anymore.

“you’re not going anywhere,” you murmur into his chest, but the words feel hollow even to you. because you know tomorrow, he’ll be gone.

hoon pulls back slightly, his eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. there’s so much unsaid in that look, but then—his lips. they’re on yours before you can stop it.

it’s gentle, a slow burn of goodbye, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. it deepens as his hands slide to your neck, pulling you closer as if he wants to hold onto this moment forever. you kiss him back with everything you have, even as the pain in your chest starts to build.

the sound of footsteps approaching pulls you both apart with a snap, hoon’s fingers brushing your cheek one last time before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“i’ll text you. and don’t forget to check your bag,” he whispers against your skin, voice low.

you blink up at him, confused, but before you can ask—he’s gone. disappearing into the hall, leaving you standing there, heart pounding.

.

later that night, in your shared dorm, you slump onto your bed, exhausted from the chaos of the day. your three friends—who all know the secret—are chatting around you, unaware of what you’re about to find.

you’re digging through your bag, mind on something else, when your fingers brush against something unexpected. a plastic bag, slightly crinkling as you pull it out. it’s filled with all your favorite snacks, the ones you’ve been craving but haven’t allowed yourself to eat in weeks.

your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you just sit there in disbelief. hoon knew. you can almost hear his voice in your head—“you’re too hard on yourself. eat the damn snacks.”

you grin to yourself, because even though he’s gone, he’s still here with you. in these snacks. in his words. in the little ways he’s still taking care of you.

you text him back immediately: “you’re an idiot. but i love you.”

his reply comes almost instantly. “just wait until i’m back. i’ll sneak way more stuff into your bag.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head, because damn, even from a distance, he’s still making everything feel so damn real.

.

the next day, hoon’s getting ready to leave, and his members are, as usual, teasing him. sunoo and jungwon are in the van, and they’re not even trying to hide their amusement.

“dude, you’re like obsessed with her,” sunoo teases, grinning like a little shit. “you’ve barely been here all week.”

jungwon raises an eyebrow, smirking. “i thought you were supposed to be the one who couldn’t keep your hands off her, and yet... here we are.”

hoon groans, his face flushed with embarrassment. “shut up, you guys. she’s not just anyone.”

“right, right,” sunoo grins. “she’s the one.”

“can you stop?” hoon mutters, slumping back in his seat. “this is not the time to talk about this.”

but then, sunghoon’s phone buzzes. he glances at it, a soft smile creeping onto his face as he reads the text from you. his heart clenches, but before he can respond, sunoo smirks again.

“she texted you again? still sending you love notes, huh?”

hoon doesn’t say anything, just stares out the window, because damn, he’s going to miss this. miss her.

but for now? he has one more ride with his members. one more teasing session. one more stolen moment of normal before everything changes.

your night starts normal. you're back at your dorm after a schedule, hair tied up, hoodie on, eating cereal for dinner while watching a romcom you’ve seen a hundred times. your phone buzzes with messages from your members, random memes and updates. nothing special. just another quiet night.

until one of them says, “hey, did someone order food?”

you blink. “no?”

they go to check anyway, and you hear faint footsteps in the hallway. a small knock. then—quiet.

a beat.

another beat.

“um… you might wanna see this,” your member calls.

you shuffle to the door, cereal still in hand, until you freeze in the doorway. because standing there, wearing a black cap and a freaking mask under a hoodie is sunghoon.

real. in the flesh. looking at you like no time has passed.

your cereal bowl literally drops on the floor. he flinches. “whoa—are you okay?”

you don’t even answer. you launch yourself at him, arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder.

“you asshole,” you mumble. “you’re actually here?!”

“yeah,” he whispers. “i’m here. i’ve always been here.”

later that night, you’re on the rooftop again. the same one from before. the one with memories still stitched into the wind.

sunghoon brought your favorite drink, two snacks from the convenience store, and a blanket. he didn’t need to go overboard—he just needed to be there.

he pulls you into his side, both of you wrapped in that soft blanket, backs against the wall as the city lights flicker below.

“i missed you every single day,” you whisper.

he kisses your temple gently. “i never stopped loving you. even when i had to pretend.”

you look up at him. “so… what now?”

sunghoon turns toward you with the softest smile ever. “we keep going. even if we’re shadows in our own love story. even if the world never knows.”

“we’ll still have our little world?” you ask.

“always.”

he leans in and kisses you, slow and full of all the months you’ve both spent waiting. and in that moment, even the moon feels like it’s holding its breath for you two.

and your love does continue. hiding in plain sight. anonymous glances in music shows. strangers in public, lovesick fools in secrecy. hotel rooftop dates. secret messages in fan letters. little scribbles in notebooks. a hoodie that smells like the other person. staff members who pretend not to know. call signs – he'd call you yeowoo (fox or yeobo / honey), as cringe as that sounds, you call him pengsoo(nghoon) anyway. and a love that burns quietly, brightly—behind closed doors.

and maybe… just maybe… both of you’ll last.

a/n: that's the end. thankyou for readingggg

taglist: @kpoplover-19 @kpoppiesofinternet @hooni3luvs @stta-princess @softservesungie

@starry-eyed-bimbo @jessicaradreamer @btsreadss @butterflydemons @honnieswife

@synielve

[diamondpastry]

trainwreckshipping submas dia au masterpost (in order <3)

in order of the sequence, not the date posted ... so you can have the definitive slop eating experience of the timeline im building... those in BOLD are important key moments, but the others still provide some needed context in a way ...

quick summary is that this is the usual ingo disappears to hisui while volos immortal and lived long enough to eventually come across emmet ... then they do the usual plate collecting stuff. this is just my interpretation of it

also note this isnt all my works of the series!! there are some that i dont know where to put ... you may consult the '#dia au' tag to see wips and rambles and such

PRE-DISAPPEARANCE (before ingo disappeared. mostly junk to establish the twin's fun little dynamic)

who is this? - fun aftermath to an interactive post ...

sweaty emmet - nimbasa trio <3

disagreement in the multi line ...

breakfast - SHORT COMIC.

breakfast revenge - SHORT COMIC.

GRIEVING ERA (lasted 1 year, emmet on his own coping with ingo's disappearance)

sad emmet - poor thing

emmet forgets elesas birthday - 2 months no ingo

stupid alcoholic - 3 months no ingo

emmet with a bong - 4 months no ingo

day drinking - 5 months no ingo

i'm normal - 1 year no ingo

PLATE COLLECTING ERA (volo finds emmet and convinces him to collect plates with him)

this is why i fuck with you - SHITPOST

pads - SHORT COMIC.

immortality - emmet finds out about volo's 'curse'. they talk about it.

gaah my cheeks gaaah - ART

non canon rp thing but its silly - SHITPOST/DOODLES

wash your clothes - SHORT COMIC. just a silly thing.

happy valentines guys - ART

volo's so damn tall - DOODLES

emmet straight up kills volo - volo using his immortality and emmet's fear of straying too far from ingo's image to manipulate/break him down into someone more vulnerable. this also comes in fanfic form, which provides more context to volo's point of view

ROSE-TINTED ERA (emmet falling in love with volo while volo continuously rejects his advances)

volo gets mauled by a bear - FANFIC. emmet is a lot less aggressive with his interactions, now growing a sort of concern/affection for volo. volo thinks it's disgusting. short doodle comic version here.

emmet cockblocks volo - FANFIC. has suggestive elements but no intercourse is actually observed (still mind the tags, however!). volo rejects emmet's affections, feeling that he is unworthy/is losing control. showcases his tendencies to self-sabotage.

not even worth it - SHORT COMIC. alternative summary to the previous one in case you aren't a fan of suggestive fanfics.

enough casual sex - SHITPOST/DOODLE

ugly - SHITPOST/DOODLE. emmet craving validation from volo.

frown upside-down - SHITPOST/DOODLE. emmet trying to cheer volo up.

need you - ART.

he dgaf - ART. emmet seeking comfort from volo.

hairdryer - SHITPOST/DOODLE. emmet pranks volo.

CONFESSION CHAPTER 1 - also comes in fanfic form, which provides more context than the comic. emmet confesses his love to volo, volo confesses a different thing entirely.

CONFESSION CHAPTER 2 - FANFIC. after emmet left, volo is struck with a realization. he looks for solutions to get ingo back, but unfortunately it led him back to plate hunting. while he still plans on rewriting the world, he swore to reunite the twins. comes with little doodles!

FALLING OUT

phone call - 2 years no ingo. emmet takes all the plates from volo and returns them to their rightful place. he then finally accepts that theres no more hope for ingo and that hes never getting him back.

stalled train - emmet setting a healthier routine for himself. though, it seems a part of him is still missing.

EPISTLE - 1 year after the phone call. volo has succeeded in collecting all the plates by himself. emmet hears about it and set off to try and stop him from fulfilling his plans.

REVELATION ERA

REVELATION 1

REVELATION 2

mild concern - quick mellingo as a treat

melli attempt no 1 out of 3

melli attempt no 2 out of 3

sorry

melli attempt no 3 out of 3

AFTERMATH

emmet breaks ingos back - he misses him

ingo brought home a sneasel ...

but your thighs - SHITPOST/DOODLES. emmet and volo are still seeing each other despite what happened. ingo is not a fan.

miss me, emmie? - ART. just a small visit while emmets working

awkwar - SHITPOST/DOODLE. ingo catches the two during work

and you still see him? - SHITPOST/DOODLE.

little crush - ART + DOODLES

can they calm down - more of ingo being a hater. understandable

big ass emoji - DOODLES/SHITPOST. ingo utilizing his new phone <3 and emmet is drunk

friendmaxxing - SHITPOST/DOODLES.

ingo in the modern world - ingo constantly being overstimulated during his transition from hisui to unova. emmet clinging on to their past routine, in hopes of returning back to 'normal'.

nightmare - comes directly after the previous comic.

ingo volo interaction - they do not get along

trainwreckshipping divorce - reveals that emmet and volo often end up in physical fights, yet still continue seeing each other. emmet gets fed up.

moving on - after the fight with volo, emmet learns to accept that things are never going back to normal.

these are still updating !! there are plenty of puzzle pieces ive yet to reveal ... i do accept asks discussing theories though i eat that up...

also i'd love to showcase my awesome trainwreckshipping playlist if you're interested in listening to that stuff.

[embrosegraves]

ℙ𝕣𝕖-𝕤𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝔹𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘

Oscar Piastri x Horner!Reader Where teams are announced, dinners are held and Oscar finds himself surrounded by people who are determined to help him on his way to greatness.

Warnings: As per, explicit language and grammatical errors. Adelaide Kane is used for one image depicting the reader.

Again, I plead that you ignore the dates on the tweets, the storyline is like 1-2 weeks behind present.

series masterlist | previous part | next part

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oscarpiastri dinner with the team (2nd 📸: yn.horner) tagged: gerihalliwellhorner, christianhorner, redbullracing

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gerihalliwellhorner It was a pleasure having you over ❤️ -> oscarpiastri The pleasure was mine, Mrs Horner -> gerihalliwellhorner Oh call me Geri, sweetheart! -> yn.horner or better yet! call her Mother Spice!!

fan1 his first team dinner 🥹🥹

fan2 forget abt dinner, oscar's outfit slayed 🔥 -> danielricciardo he called me an hour before dinner asking if the "fit was good enough" -> oscarpiastri It was a valid question and I was nervous! -> fan3 girl you won fan2

youtube.com/mattp1tommy Exclusive Interview with Oscar Piastri!

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yn.horner A lil bit of this, a lil bit of that (GP and I are the only ones who know how to cook 😭😭) tagged: danielricciardo, oscarpiastri, gplambiase, maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 Lies and slander, I know how to cook -> yn.horner you know how to make a sandwich at best -> danielricciardo she really came for your throat -> oscarpiastri you and I aren't any better danielricciardo -> danielricciardo why are you on her side??? -> yn.horner because he's actually using his brain

christianhorner All my adult-ish children in one place. Good. -> yn.horner now whyd you call us adult-ish?? 🤔 -> christianhorner You know why

fan1 they have matching hoodies- i'm not stable enough for this -> fan2 SAME 😭😭😭

fan3 what I wanna know is who was in that dogpile??? -> yn.horner On the bottom is gplambiase then its maxverstappen1 and danielricciardo -> fan4 where was oscarpiastri ?? -> oscarpiastri a safe distance away, i assure you

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imessage

I was originally gonna post this BEFORE the race but I completly forgot I was going to a music festival and I didn't end up getting home until 1 in the morning.

I woke up 30 minutes ago, quickly fixed some things with the texts and now I'm posting it. I still haven't watched the race, so I'm gonna go do that now and then I'll start planning for the next chapter

I hope you enjoyed!

likes replies and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[belovedgyu]

FASHION SHOW || Kim Mingyu

part 2

part 1 part 3

⚬ pairing: uni au! kim mingyu x fem!reader

⚬ word count: 5.2k

⚬ warnings: alcohol, drinking, insecure reader, body dysmorphia, internalized shame, spice/nsfw mentions and MDNI

⚬ genres: slowburn if you squint, jealousy, established relationship, uni!au ft. jun, soonyoung, dokyeom, giselle and yunjin

⚬ recommended songs for this chapter: -

- dirrty by christina aguilera

- good looking by suki waterhouse

- often by the weekend

- hotel by montel fish (!!!)

⚬ author's note:

though there is no explicit smut in this particular part, there will be in the one to follow (hence the slowburn and smut tags).

an unplanned, self indulgent drabble at best, hope you enjoy it!

The floor of Giselle’s room was a warzone of Dior dupes and thrifted designers. You were inside their muggy bathroom, trying to shimmy the denim up your hips.

Your chest thrummed with silent prayers for it to fit snug against the thickness of your lower body as the walls around you vibrated with the beats of some old Christina Aguilera song. 

Outside, the girls were getting ready, still arguing about doing a last minute shopping run to the nearest market. 

Connoisseurs of good fashion and well researched on the topic, almost half of their closet was shunned as either outdated, flashy or dull. Having grown too comfortable over the winter in giant hoodies, chunky sweaters and cozy cardigans, when was the last time any of you had renewed your wardrobe anyways?

“It looks good enough for a club!” You tried interjecting, popping your head out to take a look at her when Giselle complained that the shimmery green two piece set made her look like an adult winx fairy. Her fingers hesitated around the skirt she had been eyeing with disappointment.

“You think?” She asked, cocking one side of her lip in doubt, and you nodded. “But doesn’t it clash with my hair color?”

“Why the hell did you even dye your hair orange this morning in the first place?” Yunjin huffed, dropping her stiffened arms against her thighs, almost giving up on trying to salvage her ankle-wrap stilettos with glue. 

Giselle gasped with near disbelief, “You were the one who helped me out! You should have told me it was a bad idea.”

“I did!” Yunjin shot back, “Like fifteen times.”

“Guys, all our outfits are gonna suck and it's gonna be too dark in the club for anyone to notice so let's not fight now…” 

You groaned, walking out of the bathroom to show them the simple ensemble you were planning to donne—a decent pair of bootcut jeans, a silk cami top with thin straps which you were going to pair with a long knit cardigan. 

Two pairs of eyes swept over your physicality for several seconds, hums and nods of satisfaction following close. 

Their pupils didn’t go dramatically wide, nor was any exclaimed gasp of the classic “who are you and what have you done to our friend?” echoed. Just an approving nod, one which you had grown accustomed to.

It wasn’t anything mean spirited or discouraging. But you knew that most things you wore didn’t exactly leave a mark on the memory of the onlooker. You thought you liked it that way, you didn’t want people to strain their necks when you passed them. 

Not because you wouldn’t revel in attention, but because you knew you couldn’t command it. 

Your courage was balanced on a heap of poor self worth with a need for external validation haphazardly piled on top of it. Even the smallest compliment laced with bold flirtation, when thrown at it, could send it crumbling down. 

Some people called it shyness, you called it cowardice. 

Thus, when you took charge of styling yourself, simplicity etched itself across all your carefully picked out mellow colors and modest silhouettes like a signature. 

“Here, wear these!” Yunjin pushed towards you a pair of heels higher than the ones you were planning to wear. “They’ll go better, you’ll look taller. And please, lose the cardigan. Makes you look like you’re going to the library to study chemistry.”

You hesitated for a beat but decided to trust her and let the heavy fabric in your hands plop down in the sea of clothes abandoned on the little cranky bed. You could show your shoulders, you bargained, they were smooth and the roundness of your bosom sat snug under the silk, stretching it just enough to hint at the suppleness that lay underneath while also appearing delicate and feminine. 

“Honestly, I would prefer it if you were wearing shorts or a miniskirt with it instead of those jeans but it's still cute!” Giselle expressed, handing you the eyeliner as she shifted to her left, allowing you room in front of the only mirror. Your elbow still bumped into hers as you both struggled to adjust your reflections in the narrow stretch.

You could only scoff at her suggestion, “Please, you know I can never wear anything that doesn't hide my thighs.”

“I really don’t get it.” Came her reply, confused yet cautious, like she was afraid it would trigger a train of thoughts that might dampen your spirits or cause you to recoil away from her. 

You refused to make her get it, because you didn’t know how to. 

It wasn’t that your legs were hairy, discolored, scarred or uneven. No, they were pretty normal. But you could just never get over the notion you had formed during your teenage years that compared to those of your peers, your thighs were too fat. 

And while with the girls’ help, you had learnt to pick out the tops which suited your body the best, supporting the delicate heaviness of your curves and showing just enough skin to trigger interest, you were still insistent on covering your thighs—at least the upper parts of them, with long pants or with skirts that reached midthighs.

You had tried wearing shorts here and there, especially during the summer of freshmen year where everyone was too busy figuring out the campus maps as well as themselves to give a fuck about what someone wore or what they looked like. 

But then you’d find yourself curled in your dorm under a comforter at three in the morning, wanting it to engulf you whole until the end of the time as you zoomed in on the compromising strain of denim around the plushness of your upper thighs in pictures. 

The mocking, awkward, red imprints that followed when you struggled to shimmy those shorts off after a long day, seemed like a testament of your failed attempt at embracing something which had hammered shame in your ribs since the dawn of your womanhood. 

‘Being naturally curvaceous comes with its own set of insecurities’, the voice in your head cornered your defenseless psyche and you had already surrendered to it without questioning it even once. 

You liked to tell yourself that it wasn’t self loathing and that you loved your body, you just didn’t want the world to see it wrapped in clothes which could be perceived as ‘unflattering’ by some. 

Giselle was spraying the final spritz of perfume over herself and Yunjin tapping the last layer of shimmer over her lips when you texted your boyfriend. 

Thanks to the few cans of beer stashed deep in their refrigerator—courtsey to Giselle’s late night supermarket runs, the three of you had already begun drinking, before you could even reach Jun’s apartment. 

You: We’re ready!

Mingyu 🐶🩷: Be there in five <3

Yunjin called it a preliminary pregame which would give you an edge over the guys who would hog up Jun’s stash of whiskey and champagne. Your fingers trembled when the evening wind skimmed over your bare skin, grazing it with goosebumps in its wake and making your mind wander back to the cardigan which laid abandoned in their locked apartment. 

Then, heavensend, you heard the familiar whirr of the engine as a sleek black car, too pristine to belong to anyone who wasn't him, rolled around the curb. Mingyu treated his car the way he treated everything else in his life—with deliberate diligence and frequent check-ins. No one who knew him could ever accuse him of being sloppy, careless or inconsiderate. Whether it was schoolwork or his health or car or relationships, he always kept a mental log of everything. Never nagging or smothering, just being there with all his attention. 

Bubbly giggles and lighthearted comments about him being a dapper chauffeur buzzed around him when a beaming Mingyu opened the car door for his ladies. 

He patiently waited for Yunjin and Giselle to settle in the backseat before helping you get into the front with a firm hand pressed on your lower back. 

He must have noticed the twitch in your body, you thought, because he offered you his jacket as soon as you got in. You shook your head no citing the fact that his car was warm enough and that it would be too stuffy in the club anyways. 

When he buckled your seatbelt—an act which made his knuckles brush against your soft body, he whispered near your cold cheek. “Looking gorgeous as always, my love.” rebirthing the goosebumps which had appeared out in the cold. 

Even the slight intoxication pulsating in your nerves couldn’t detract your mind from registering his ubiquitous handsomeness. It was everywhere—in the tilt of his head every time he drove with concentration, in the rhythmic tapping of his long fingers against the steering wheel when the road ahead was smooth and vacant, in the slightly long locks of his hair which you had forbade him from cutting because the way they trickled between your fingers was a sensory pleasure in itself.

Even the little mole on the tip of his nose seemed like it was placed there with a lot of thought, when the angels kissed his face. 

He wasn’t wearing anything spectacular or planned out, just his usual dark washed jeans and a plain black button down with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a light jacket tossed hanging on the headrest of his driver’s seat. 

His hair had gotten a bit disheveled from when Yunjin had patted his head calling him ‘the world’s first chauffeur who is also a golden retriever.’ But then he pushed his sunglasses back up, making silk like strands fall around the edges of his temples and it didn’t even matter. He looked so polished, so effortless. Like he was chiseled out of the same marble which had been used in ancient Greece to carve out Gods and then Aphrodite herself breathed love and life in him. 

At some point during the drive, he laughed at something Giselle said. And then he tipped his head to your side, to check if you were laughing too. When he confirmed that you were, his already beaming grin somehow brightened even more. That undid you like it did during your first date years ago. 

It was these small things that he did—not like second nature but more like habits he had worked hard to develop for nurturing something precious and divine. 

You thought that if you didn’t express this warmth which was beginning to bloom in your chest, it’d cause your heart to combust and spill out as tears. And then you’d become the butt of your friends’ jokes for a week for being a drunk crier because they’d be unaware of and unknown to this thing called love. 

So you rubbed lazy circles with your thumb over his palm which was set on the gear and whispered a compliment. You had wanted to tell him that you could write sonnets about him tonight, but that would have been weird. So you settled on something along the lines of “you look so good, babe.”

He replied to you with an earnest smile and this gone look in his midnight eyes like you had just made all his wishes, ever, come true. 

He locked his larger fingers with yours, fitting your warm, slightly damp palm against his hardened one and brought it up to his lips. He kissed each of your knuckles before placing both of yours’ conjoined hands in his lap.

“Pass the aux lover boy!” Yunjin hooted from behind like a war cry, chugging down the remaining contents of her can. 

Suri really had gone all out for her twenty-second. 

Velour, the club she had booked for the occasion, was one situated not much farther from the campus. Yet, no one from Uni ever really visited here, leave for the few odd rich kids. You had heard that it was more of a space for grown ups with their own money and that they didn’t even hire college students as servers or bartenders like the other clubs in the college town. 

Intimidating bouncers almost as tall as Mingyu and Jun and twice more buff hawked the narrow entrance with pads of guestlist. They turned away all the freshmen who tried deceiving their ways in with a distasteful cluck of tongue and an unamused sigh. 

Upon entering, blinding lights blinked in vivid patterns; flashing the velvet lined VIP lounges one moment, and the bar decked with expensive imported alcohol the other. Everything was either scarlet or black and wrapped with an unnatural warmth, one which didn’t emanate from body heat. Ten minutes in and your silk top was already beginning to clamp on your back glued by a sheen of sweat. 

“Woah!” Soonyoung gasped, “This place rocks!” 

Everyone except for Dokyeom, Mingyu and you, made a straight beeline towards the bar as soon as they got in. 

Dokyeom and Mingyu stayed behind because they were the designated drivers for the night. While you stuck with them with an excuse that the shots you did at Jun’s needed some time to settle in your gut before you could drink more. 

Truth be told, Mingyu’s arm slinked around you was too heavy with warmth and possession for you to squirm away from it. He didn’t hog you all to himself, neither did he lousily hurl it around you because he had to. His hold was rather revert, pressing you to his side so that he could exist and breathe in your presence. Fingers sprawled over your hip, not to trace any lewd patterns, but to rub the patch of skin gently every time he felt you tense up when someone bumped into you. 

He didn’t have to look at you, touch you, or even hear you to know what you needed. But he did so anyway. Because to him, every passing second spent without the unsure tremor of your voice, the shy flutter of your lashes or the touch of your skin that bloomed with heat too easily, was pure unadulterated torture.  

“I swear I saw a stripper bro, do you think she’d order strippers?” Dokyeom’s eyes jumped around with curiosity, scanning the club with fervour. 

“Its her birthday, not her bachelorette.” Mingyu answered, his voice loud enough to ride over the music, “You must have looked at your reflection.”

That earned a snort from you. Dokyeom had chosen to wear this sheer black tank top which gave a good view of everything underneath when the lights hit his chest at just the right angle. 

He refused to elaborate the reasoning behind this choice of outfit beyond the point that he was making a statement that the rest of his friends were too fashion illiterate to understand. 

“You’re laughing?” Dokyeom’s eyes widened at you trying to stifle your laugh by burying yourself in Mingyu’s chest. “Your boyfriend just slutshamed me and you’re laughing?”

When you couldn’t answer him, Dokyeom stretched his arms as if presenting himself to the world. 

“Seriously, what’s wrong with my outfit?”

Mingyu rubbed your hip lazily as he pretended to wonder. “Mhmm, I don’t know,” He looked his friend dead in the eye, “but the fact that you have a golden glittered star on each of your nipple, is pretty fucking weird.” 

Dokyeom couldn’t hold back his smile anymore either. “Well, Y/N’s nipple pasties were lying around in the apartment from the last time she visited so I thought, why not use them for creativity?” 

“Hey!” You felt your cheeks burn as you glared at him with faux anger. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Dokyeom raised his arms up in surrender laughing with you both now, “But seriously dude, can you give me your jacket before someone attractive sees me?” 

He looked at Mingyu hopefully, not even bothering to search for the men’s room and proceeding to wriggle his fingers under the tank top to remove the silicon pasties you had used under your strapless dress from your last date night with Mingyu. 

Pasties which were now ruined with obscene amounts of glitter. 

You couldn’t help but wince when he tugged at them too harshly, almost ripping the sheer net of his top. “You know I had them on my bare, sweaty nipples just four nights ago?”

“Then it just means we hugged naked.”

“That's stupid.” You bickered. 

“No, that is the same as what your logic was when I drank from the same straw as Soonyoung and you insisted that it meant that we had kissed.”

Mingyu, sporting a lopsided grin at this unnecessarily childish exchange, had barely handed over his jacket to Dokyeom when an approaching storm of red and black almost collided with him. 

“Suri!” He breathed, his lips morphing into a natural smile. “Happy birthday, slugger!”

You could only see her slender, manicured fingers studded with charms and rings wrap around your boyfriend’s neck from your position as they hugged. 

“Gyubear!” She almost whined, still clutching one of his shoulders even after pulling away from the hug. “I thought you’d forget!” 

“Don’t be silly Suri, how can I ever forget your birthday?” An easy laugh reverberated from Mingyu’s chest and settled uncomfortably in your bones for longer than necessary, “I’ve been celebrating it with you since as long as I can remember!” 

She shrugged, sheepishly. Not even more than a year of low communication seemed to dampen the lightness of their bond. 

Meanwhile if the two of you went even a few days without interacting, it felt like you were rebuilding comfort in his embrace from scratch when you could be finally with him again. 

That's twenty years vs two years worth of intimacy, the cruel voice in your head knackered. 

“Wow, Suri you look wonderful!” 

You were too busy meddling with your own head that the compliment from Mingyu directed towards Suri singed you like you were hit with several fragments of burning amber. 

It had you inspecting her from head to toe.

Hair pin straight, bold makeup with accents of gold and red, body toned and perfect, lathered with shimmering oil. But what stood out the most to you was her dress. 

Red, silky, and dangerously short. You instantly recognized it as the Versace number from last year’s season. Yunjin and Giselle couldn’t stop obsessing over it after doing a photoshoot. Its neckline was arched deep, going deeper on the back. The torso had a corset like silhouette, cinching at her already tiny waist. 

But what was the most sensual aspect of it all was its length. Mere inches below the apex of her legs with slits on either ends that were as high as her hips. It was more of a tunic than a dress…not that you were judging.

No, never. 

If anything, you were judging yourself for never having the courage, or arguably the body, to pull off something like that with so much grace and poise. 

“Happy Birthday, Suri.” You wished her with an unsure smile once Dokyeom was done with his greetings. She smiled back at you, one which didn't quite reach her red lined eyes, responding to you with the faintest thanks before turning her attention back to Mingyu. 

You wished you had gone with Soonyoung, Yunjin, Jun and Giselle to the bar when the conversation elongated. Your head throbbed with every laughter that spilled out of their lips. Dokyeom seemed to be keeping up just fine, too. The air, trembling with the thumping beats, warped around them a canopy which couldn’t quite fit you underneath itself.

With every memory recalled and joke cracked, you increasingly felt like an onlooker staring at a television encased behind an impenetrable glass, yearning for the box of wonders because you couldn’t afford it. 

Deciding that rubbing your temples while they talked might seem like a bitch move, you tried to endure it politely for as long as it could last. You stood there, feeling your knees tighten like they always did when you tried too hard, or thought too much. 

And Mingyu didn’t notice it, not this time around, when his hand had slipped off of you to describe the width of something relevant to the story he told to Suri and Dokyeom. 

Sometime during the night, Yunjin saved you with a chilled strawberry daiquiri. Suri had dragged Mingyu along to have him meet someone from their highschool, and you found yourself in one of the booths, which smelled like mint and charcoal, along with your friends. 

You sunk further and further down the seat watching the painfully expansive scene unfolding a mere twenty feet away from you. Fragrant, misty smoke emanating from some sort of fixture snaked around them like a bad omen. The crinkle of the half melted ice in your short, stout glass sounding like hushed gossip. 

Within an hour, a brief catch up with a cousin turned into ‘saying hi to Cindy from middle school’ and ‘oh my god Suri’s younger brother who always idolized Mingyu is all grown up now and Mingyu has to meet him.’ Mingyu and Suri laughed, most probably finishing each others’ sentences as they entertained a group of old friends and family like a couple. 

You gulped the bubbling jealousy down with the remaining rum in Jun's abandoned tumbler, cursing the raw alcohol which scorched your throat.

A heinously cheap thought occurred to you—what if Suri had purposefully invited practically anyone and everyone they had ever known so that she could to hit Mingyu with consecutive blows of nostalgia and keep him hooked around?

You shook your head…no, Suri couldn’t be that cruelly manipulative. 

Moreover, why were you even blaming a woman when most of your disappointment originated from your boyfriend's behavior?

To his defense, he hadn’t abandoned you completely. 

He would return to your booth whenever he could find an opportunity to slip away from her clutches with exhausted puppy dog eyes and a smile that looked like it was curated with precision—careful yet artificial. 

And when he couldn’t come to you physically, he’d just wave at you from across the bar, mouthing an ardent “I love you” which made his lower lip quiver ever so slightly that you’d miss it if you hadn’t memorized every ridge of his face. 

A few minutes ago, it had seemed like he had gotten a whiff of your now rotten mood because he tried to pull you out of whatever cruel words you were filling the spaces in your head with by inviting you to come say hi to his friend Cindy. 

“Baby, I’m good, my feet hurt.” You had lied. You hadn’t even danced a bit for them to hurt. He knew that, yet he sealed his emotions and just nodded in silent defeat. 

Yet, he was a man who wore persistence like an armour, and he wasn’t done trying to soothe whatever unintentional hurt he had caused you. 

Hauling you up on your wobbly feet from the couch, he had you crashing down on his lap. You hissed a little when your soft bottom couldn’t shield you enough from the firm impact with his hard body. The hiss dissolved midway into a groan when you felt long fingers wrap on either side of your hips, adjusting you on his lap such that the most sensitive parts of you were a hair’s breadth away from the most irresistible parts of him. 

His hold wasn’t too tight, nor were his maneuvers of your hips forceful. He just touched you, shifted you, like he had done this multiple times before, and like a perfect partner to his tango, your body could predict each press before you could even anticipate it. 

None of your friends even batted a lash over this obvious manhandling. And for a moment, you debated if you should be concerned or relieved.

The ghost of his lips gave you a warning of what was about to come, allowing you the window of a single second to react before a wet kiss was planted on the soft patch of skin just below your neck. 

It wasn’t just a random kiss, no, he knew your body too well for something like that. It was deliberate, desperate even. Armed with an intent to nudge the nerves which made you tremble, made you lose control of your own voice which slithered out of your parted lips as a gasp, a squeak or a moan. 

He laughed when Giselle attempted to catch the olive Jun plucked out of your martini in her mouth. And when he did, he didn't even bother to separate his lips which had found refuge on your naked shoulders.

As opposed to his hot lips, his teeth were coated with a sheen of cold which he tried to melt by burying them in your neck. 

“Gyu…” you whimpered, your finger nails digging on his knee, barely piercing the rugged fabric of his jeans, with the same intensity which his canines were latching on your neck with. 

Both would leave crescent marks of their own—yours, a slight pink indent on his body which will fade in under an hour. Though, his scorings on you would be darker and ripen from red to maroon with each passing minute, causing you insurmountable mortification when you would look at yourself in the mirror the next morning. 

He detached himself from your neck with an audible smack of lips. Different patches of your exposed skin were now bruised and damp with his saliva. The sound is humiliating but nothing in comparison to the one which ripped out of your throat. 

“God, it has been so long.” he groaned from behind you, his voice low and tired, as he rested his forehead on the curve of your neck.

You knew exactly what he meant. Your early lectures would forbid him from keeping you up all night while his frequent three hour long lab work meant he couldn’t spend those extra fifteen minutes he would beg you for between your legs. 

The two of you haven’t had real sex for almost three weeks now and with your forever regular period lurking just around the corner to snatch you away from him for another week, you both knew something had to be done for your sanities. 

“Let’s go home.” You suggested in a hushed whisper under his jaw, almost too quick to appear like the girlfriend who was all-okay with her being at the birthday party of some girl who had weirdly suspicious underlying intentions about your boyfriend. 

The smirk almost ripened on his face before he jolted into action as if he remembered that his mouth had to be attached somewhere on your body for him to be able to breathe.

This time, he targets your lips. Cupping your cheek in his palm, he angled your limp neck in a manner which allowed him unrestricted access to the glossy buds, succulent and parted for him. 

Your brows furrowed when his breath fanned over them, another guttural sound echoing from your throat. God, he hadn’t even kissed you yet for you to be so heated. 

For the first time tonight, you’re grateful for Suri—not because of the free drinks, but for the blaring music which boomed so loud, it could kill an introvert. It swallowed all your embarrassing moans, pitiful pleadings and his silent snickers until nothing but his warm breath, which was now swimming all over your form, remained. 

Sadly, this rendezvous was cut short, like everything in your life lately.

From the corner of your eyes, you caught it—Suri’s long arm waving at him and pointing at a buff guy, whom you now recognized as Julio. Confused at what made your body go taut in his arms, Mingyu leaned his head up a bit and followed your line of gaze. 

For a moment, a light which didn’t belong to the club, flickered in his eyes as he appeared to forget whatever he was doing to you when he saw the man waving at him with Suri. 

A mumbled apology landed at your feet as he carefully, yet impatiently, slid you off his lap and onto the cushion, which was flinchingly cold when compared to the heat of his lap, to go say hi to his best friend from school. 

And now, you were exhausted. 

Exhausted of returning his smiles when all you wanted to do was roll your eyes at him.

Exhausted of making room for him at the couch every time he appeared for like two minutes before crawling back to the girl in red.

Exhausted of watching a feminine index finger, tipped off with red, tapping at his shoulders again and again. 

Exhausted of seeing him lean down to the level of her lips to catch what she wanted to say because for some reason, the DJ kept on increasing the volume of the music with jarring intensity. 

It all felt too planned out, too cruel in the moment.

Oftentimes, you liked to think that Dokyeom is an angel sent by God to make your life easier. One such time is today when he walks back to your booth dragging a barely conscious Yunjin along under his arm. 

“Alright, code red,” he announced, catching the girl who almost trips over air, “we have our first comrade who is about to either cause some serious injuries on the dance floor or succumb to alcohol poisoning if unstopped. Who else wants to leave?”

It was an unsaid rule at your hangouts—whenever one of you would get too drunk beyond the point of comprehension, it was the duty of the designated driver to take a round trip driving them and whoever else wanted to go back home. In a group as large as yours, this arrangement made sense. 

You had never used it though, because you seldom got drunk. And even when you did, you’d just rely on Mingyu to take care of you or let you sleep on him until the bar shut down. And then he’d carry you back so gently that you wouldn't even stir until the perpetually broken window next your bed assaulted your eyes with the afternoon sun.

But there’s a first time for everything, you huffed. 

“I wanna go back too.” You informed Dokyeom who seemed startled when you stood up, but he didn’t question you about it. 

“I’ll just go inform Mingyu, once.” You mumbled, hating how even the glassy eyes of your friends shimmered with sympathy for you. 

You almost didn’t want to, but you made your way towards him, cutting through the swaying sea of sweaty bodies who were absolutely knocked off on free, expensive drinks. 

Mingyu had seen you get up and had excused himself from Suri to meet you halfway when he saw your small body squirming through the crowd. For some reason, Suri followed. 

He held your hand as soon as he could reach it. 

“Babe?” His voice didn’t reach your ears but you could figure out what he said and it seemed more like a question.

Your satin top had wrinkled with dejection and weirded patches of spilled beer littered your jeans. You were sure the humidity had frizzed up your hair too, throwing the volume off balance. A humbling haplessness, one which was foreign to you around him until now, weighed down your limbs as he waited for you to catch your breath with concerned, furrowed brows.  

“Uh, Yunjin’s hammered and Dokyeom’s driving her back.” You shouted, trying to make yourself clearer over the thumping bass, “I think I am gonna leave with them too.”

The uncertainty in that last line threw you off because you had marched down here to tell him you were gonna leave, not that you were thinking about leaving. 

As you spoke, he had leaned down, closer than how he did for Suri, almost pressing his ear to your moving lips while plugging his other ear with a finger.

He nodded at the Yunjin part, shook his head at the ‘I am gonna leave with them too’. 

He gripped your biceps, pulling you closer to himself until your body mashed with his. He spoke in your ear, “You should stay back, if you aren’t too tired. Suri is gonna cut the cake soon.”

You could smell his cologne better now that you were flushed so close to him. And for the first time, you hated inhaling that scent. It was the same one, his usual citrus with earthy undertones which always calmed you. But right now, there are distinct notes of jasmine curled around the edges of his sleeves, and it makes you nauseous. 

“I...I am gonna leave.” You spoke, firmer this time. 

He didn’t want to argue with you on that, reasoning that maybe you were exhausted, maybe too drunk, or maybe because the music was too loud. Somewhere in his head, there was a thought forming, though. A thought which he kept shrugging off before it could even finish itself. 

But when you tugged at his collar, indicating that you weren’t done speaking in his ear and told him to “enjoy yourself” with a sourness that made him flinch and turned around on your heels without even kissing him, he knew that thought was true, after all. 

part 3 (strictly nsfw) <3

[back2bluesidex]

Crawling back to you - MYG [Masterlist]

Pairing: Rapper!Yoongi X Fem!Reader

Type: Drabble series.

Theme: Break up au, pining, so much angst, exes to lovers.

W.C: will be mentioned in each chapter.

Summary:

"It's sad to see you go Sorta hoping that you'd stay"

Alternatively:

All the time you thought Yoongi was in love with you - he was in love with his best friend.

Warning: will be mentioned.

Based on Do I Wanna Know by Hoizer (Yes, the cover because that sounds more melancholic)

Masterlist | Patreon (For early access) Posting every Saturday

A/N: If you are commenting down to be added to the series masterlist make sure you mention your age or you have your age mentioned in your bio. without an age, your request will not be valid.

Chapter Index: -

0. Prologue

"It's sad to see you go Sorta hoping that you'd stay"

1. Beginning of An Ending

“Have you no idea that you're in deep? I dreamt about you nearly every night this week”

2. A Rebound [Patreon] (Posting date: 12th July, 4:30 PM UTC)

“How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found That makes me think of you somehow”

3. A Promise [Patreon] (Posting date: TBD)

“Do I wanna know? If this feeling flows both ways?”

4. Two Years of A Lie [Patreon] (Posting date: TBD)

“So have you got the guts? Been wondering if your heart's still open And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts”

5. ?

6. ?

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8. ?

9. ?

10. ?

I post in Patreon every week. So, if waiting long isn't your cup of tea, you can sub my patreon page and gain weekly access. <3

Permanent Taglist:

@chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89 @ryryvna @purple-realms @ssbb-22 @miniesjams32 @mar-lo-pap

Requested Tag:

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[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Please check Intro about me ;) , my masterlist :) , Requests (& Rules) ^^

I'm currently in my writer's era, so I wanted to publish this Fanfic I've been writing for the past few weeks. I've always had POVs and ideas for stories in my head but I stored them away in my notes app or my diary. But this one, I wanted to share. (I publish on Wattpad as well but my reach over there SUCKS.)

Consider giving this story a read and tell me what you think of it. Leave your comments and feedback, I always appreciate it. I'm still a beginner, so there might be some errors here and there. If you spot any please tell me and I'll correct them.

I'll try to upload weekly or whenever I finish writing a new chapter.

WARNING ⚠️ This story is for matured readers since there's smut, mention of alcohol and strong language.

Ready? Let's get in.

A/N: The story is currently on pause.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Description:

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒂𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒚𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆...

He knew that this marriage was under his agreement that it's only valid for a year. But once their contract ends and Aria tells him she is carrying his child, his protectiveness, possessiveness over her increased a ton more. He didn't want this marriage to last more than he wanted but now he can't live without her.

Bang Chan x fem/OC - Arranged marriage. Mature content. Cold Husband. Billionaire. DUAL POVS

TW ❗❗: Pregnancy (I know not everyone enjoys this trope but I can assure that once you read it you will understand the plot. Do consider giving it a chance)

This story contains mature content such as mentions of alcohol, sex and strong language. 🔞

Note: Underlined chapters are already published and non underlined ones are upcoming. Ones marked in red contains smut. At the end of each chapter, the next one is linked.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬:

Chapter 1 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 25

Chapter 2 || Chapter 14

Chapter 3 || Chapter 15

Chapter 4 || Chapter 16

Chapter 5 || Chapter 17

Chapter 6 || Chapter 18

Chapter 7 || Chapter 19

Chapter 8 || Chapter 20

Chapter 9 || Chapter 21

Chapter 10 || Chapter 22

Chapter 11 || Chapter 23

Chapter 12 || Chapter 24

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ, ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ, ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ.

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3. New tags will be included in the upcoming chapters, but please note that I won't be updating the taglists in previous chapters.

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[yazthebookish]

Maybe I'll spoil you guys and talk about Gwynriel and ACOTAR5 and anything related to it overall. I recently finished my HOFAS reread and have some fresh thoughts. I'll let my thoughts guide me and some of these points I've already addressed in my insta stories yesterday. I just rather share a lengthy post here since I'll only tag under #gwynriel.

I often see arguments about how Gwyn and Azriel can't move the plot forward because the series is centered on the Archeron sisters.

First, that's not true because Sarah is following what she called "a traditional romance route". She's following the same patterns of Nalini Singh, Kresley Cole, and Lisa Kleypas where they publish multiple books in the same series following different couples.

This is fitting for a series like ACOTAR because it's romance-centered. And Sarah have already said that each couple is getting one book and there will likely be more books beyond ACOTAR6.

Saying that doesn't dismiss the importance of the sisters to the story, Feyre already has a trilogy centered on her. The spin-off just follows different characters including the sisters.

I won't try hard to convince people on this because I've already posted almost everything Sarah said about the spin-off series and what's it's about. So if the next book is not centered on an Archeron sister, that's for Sarah to bamboozle the fandom with.

One thing that stuck out to me is when I compared the ending of ACOSF with the scene of Bryce giving Nesta Gwydion and seeming like she left Nesta with a new quest.

First, this is what the text says, and this is Chapter 80, the very last chapter in ACOSF:

Succeeding in the Blood Rite didn't mean the training stopped. No, after she and her friends told Cassian and Azriel most of the details of their ordeal, the two commanders had compiled a long list of mistakes that the three of them had made that needed to be corrected, and the others wanted to learn from them, too. So they would keep training, until they were all well and truly Valkyries. Gwyn, despite the Rite, had returned to living in the library.

1. The Valkyries are not yet a unit.

2. SJM only and specifically highlighted that Gwyn, despite the Rite, returned to living in the library. It was like "hey, remember all the talk Gwyn did about wanting to leave the library after two years? Yeah that's on hold a bit but keep that in mind". She didnt even add Emerie or the other priestesses to that sentence.

With Nesta being left with Gwydion to find out why the 8-pointed star was tattooed on her, I don't think the next book will start with "hey Elain take this sword and deal with it". Who are Nesta's main companions now? Gwyn and Emerie.

I'll be back to the Valkyries but let's just talk about Azriel for a bit.

It is so painfully obvious to me that Azriel is being handed the Illyrian plot on a golden platter. How big or small of a plot it is depends on SJM, but it's important based on the fact that she fleshed out the Illyrian's origins and tied them to the crossover AND making Truth-teller the knife of Enalius.

That is a big deal for an Illyrian like Azriel.

And I quote my friend Lacie on this, it is very poetic for Azriel to be the owner of the knife that originally belonged to the person who freed his own people from the Daglan's clutches, perhaps because he saw his people are more than just slaves to the Daglan—how powerful would it be for Azriel, who loathes his own people, to parallel Enalius.

And for years some people were against Azriel dealing with this plot because he shouldn't make peace with his "abusers", its true his own family and some Illyrians failed him but he is condemning an entire population. Good people like Emerie and Balthazar. Even Rhys's mother, who had valid reasons to hate her people especially as a female, still made sure to make Rhysand connect with his Illyrian heritage and he even goes on to say that his mother didn't forget what they did to her but still loved her people.

If both Cassian and Rhysand (and by extension the author) continue to flag Azriel's hatred of the Illyrians as an issue—then it is a damn big issue for it to be addressed repeatedly.

Okay so to address my final point about Gwyn and Azriel and how they can move the plot forward.

Now I didn't detail out much about what the next book will deal with because that's another post (and I already have a post on that).

All of our theories and predictions are based on information that is available to us. Saying Azriel and Gwyn cannot move the plot forward does not make any sense because the central plot is tied to multiple characters, Archeron or not.

If SJM wants to make a character move the next book's plot forward, she can do it because she's in control of the story. She's in control of the narrative. She's in control of the characters.

The characters are puppets and this is an unfinished story. If some characters would add more value and make for a more interesting story before the others, she can decide on that. If she wants to make Eris the protagonist of the next book, she can easily do that whether the fandom wants it or not.

Let me give you an example of minor characters that pushed the plot forward and became main characters: Yrene Towers and the Hind. These kind of arguments could've been used for them in HOEAB or HOSAB and Pre-TOD. Before HOSAB/HOFAS and TOD, could we have predicted that they would have played a crucial role before those books? Not likely because they had minimal appearances and were not part of the main cast. This is what I'm talking about.

You can't know how a character will contribute to a story until you see how it all unfolds. We can make guesses on the information we have which is why I believe three characters are likely to join the main cast: Gwyn, Emerie, and Eris.

Why is it so easy to accept that Emerie might be sharing a book with an original character like Mor but it's hard to comprehend the fact that Gwyn could also share a book with Azriel? Because Emerie showed up in ACOFAS? To me that's not really a strong argument based on Sarah's writing and what we have in the books, she doesn't really pick based on who showed up the earliest. Here's a good example: Hypaxia, who showed up earlier, didn't even get her own chapters but the Hind did.

And there's one argument I recall about how I need to rely on Nesta to have a plot focused on Gwyn or the Valkyries in the next book. Nesta's arc is clearly not over based on HOFAS, but does that mean she's getting a POV? Not necessarily. I don't think she is. Gwyn is the perfect candidate for us to see what's going on with Nesta post-HOFAS and how they all deal with the Valkyries and whatever Sarah will set up with them.

There is this whole Valkyrie/Illyrian conflict that could be triggered as a result of the Blood Rite, with Ramiel definitely being an important location to explore in the next book, we also have the Pegasi and the Prison and the implications of the crossover. It makes sense to have an Illyrian and a Valkyrie POV to deal with some plots in the next book.

"Gwyn contributes to nothing" we can't know until the book is out. How sure are we that maybe SJM won't connect her to the crossover by making her mysterious father a Worldwalker? Or Prince of Hel? Or an Asteri? Maybe I'm right maybe I'm wrong.

"But Koschei! And the Human Queens!" Koschei will always be a background player pulling on the strings until the final book as it's obvious he is the big bad in the series, unless someone even worse is revealed. But no one is dismissing Koschei or the Human Queens messing around.

Literally what's the point of the story or the fun elements of surprises or plot twists if you need Sarah to list down everything that the next books will deal with. That's not how a story develops to me. I don't need to know everything in advance to just know how it will go. That's like knowing spoilers early on and checking off with each book what happened and what didn't happen. I feel like it's close to how a lot of readers were disappointed with not having enough ACOTAR in HOFAS, because Sarah implied half of the book would be set in Prythian. So by the time the book came out and it wasn't that, people were vocal about it.

In my opinion, SJM set a good foundation for Gwyn's arc to build up on in ACOSF and her arc is not over. We won't get mentions of her still carrying the guilt of her sister's death or not leaving the library after she said she's sick of being there for two years without us seeing resolution for that. She wouldn't be in Azriel's bonus chapter if she is not involved with him.

To conclude, my reread still affirms to me that the next book with an Azriel/Gwyn book. Azriel is clearly being set in the forefront.

[midnight-mourning]

He’s a Little Confused but He's Got the Holiday Spirit

Hello! As the title implies, it's time for this to become a fic, for those that don't know, I wrote a prompt response that's basically a christmas au of confused spirit (curtosey of @divinit3a) and it was so good that I decided to make a full fic for it. this post contains the basic info of the fic, some lovely designs brought to life by Pom and will include links to each chapter as it posts ^_^

There's also a little poll at the end to vote on the title if you'd like to participate~

The Plot:

You're a blacksmith/animatronic technican in a small, mountain village, known far and wide across the kingdom for it's holiday decorations and delight. So much so that the royal family themselves visit yearly to partake in the festivities.

However, due to some recent threats and strange has happenings, there's much more security this year, and among that security is two royal guards who seem keenly interested in keeping you from investigating too far into the matter. And you, they're also interested in you.

The Characters:

Y/N - You! With the same personality, motivations, and goals as Y/N from Confused Spirit, and with a similar job as well. You run a shop in town with a small team of smithies, tinkerers, and inventors at your side. (I don't have a design currently but imagine a the most androgynous blacksmith/medival peasent outfit ever <33)

Sun & Moon - The two guards that have been meddling in your affairs. Though, given they've been a surprising help with your siblings, you can't say much. Also with the same personalities, and characteristics as Confused Spirit. However, they're motivations and goals are different and do not reflect their CS counterparts. Meaning, anything discovered about these two does not apply to or justify any actions taken by them in CS. Designs below are by Pom who brought my vision to life <3333

The Shop Crew - the parts & infastructure team from CS! with an adjustment here or there :)

Melissa & Gabriel - Your siblings. Still adorable. And still a menace.

All others - You'll just have to see :) There is some overlap from CS, such as Abby as some already know, among many more

Where to read:

I'll be posting these to tumblr & ao3! Tumblr first/only (until I can think up a title) but then I'll also have it on ao3 for better reading bc these will be long chapters.

Speaking of, there will be seven chapters total, including the one I've already posted!

Timeline:

Honestly want to tell y'all i'll be sharing a chapter every day or so, but after the disaster that was me last week with feeling unwell and getting behind, I'll just say, she'll be posted completely hopefully before my break is over 😅

Title (and tagging):

While I admit it WOULD be funny to just name it Holiday Spirit, I'm gonna let y'all decide for sure. I'll leave the poll up for a week since I'm not in a rush to post to ao3 (and I unfortunately doubt I'll have it done in a week lmao) everything related to it though will be tagged with #HS! au and #Holiday spirit au as the au is called Holiday Spirit, this is just for fun pretty much

Chapter 1:

Chapter 2:

https://www.tumblr.com/midnight-mourning/771893744939270144/2-animatronics-dancing-oh-and-you-youre-there?source=share (this is an inline link bc it KEEPS SHOWING SPOILERS)

EDIT: messed up the poll, so sorry >_< if you already voted and it said 1 day pls vote again shkjdf

Tag list for the usuals (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 2

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Chapter 2 Summary: Lucien and Rhysand argue over Reader's imprisonment, only one cell is traded for another. Lucien reaches out to an unlikely alley for support in getting Reader free.

Word Count: 6.3K

Warning(s): Mentions of injuries, mentions of self harm, mentions of body issues/insecurities.

A/N: I was too excited to wait the full month so here is part two a bit early! I apologize that this gets a bit dialogue heavy at the end. I may fix it later. This is going to be a long slow burn fic with a lot of angst. This will also have crossover with some of the Crescent City characters. It also probably goes without saying, but this will not follow canon past the events in HOSAB. Comment on this post if you want to be included on the tag list.

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 1

Seven days. Seven days he’d been arguing and advocating for her release with Rhysand. For seven days he listened to the same rehearsed list of excuses as to why Rhys wouldn’t budge in his decision.

“You and I both know that the gate to Velaris was sealed with blood magic. Only those whose blood is linked to the seal can pass through, which she shouldn’t have been able to do. On top of that we don’t know what world she came from. I’m not risking the lives of my family-my court, which includes you- on what equates to no more than a hunch.”  

While the High Lord’s statements were reasonable and valid points, his insistence she remained confined in that dark and dank cell was not. Lucien hastily made his way down the main steps that lead into the catacombs, thoughts of his last spat with Rhysand swirling in his mind.

“Why do you care so much about what happens to this woman?” Rhys had questioned. Lucien had asked himself the same thing; but how could he say that it was less about her and more about what she represented? That when he saw her cowering form in the corner of that cell, images of Feyre, Elain, and Jesminda flashed through his mind. He had failed the two sisters. He had failed his first love. He would sooner have the Cauldron blast him from existence should he fail to protect another innocent female. He’d kept his composure standing in Rhysand’s office at the River House long enough. A simmering rage permeated the space as the raven-haired male stared him down. A silent challenge in the already tense atmosphere.

“How can you stand your own hypocrisy?” He seethed, “You sit there thinking of yourself so high and mighty, yet a simple human frightens you? You allowed Feyre into Velaris the second week she spent with you. You allowed Bryce into your home within minutes of her crashing into our world. Yet this human…this woman scares you so much you have her imprisoned in one of the most dangerous areas of your court?”

“ENOUGH!” Rhysand bellowed, his own violet orbs simmered with rage. Lucien felt his flames rise up and encircle his palms. Rhysand’s High Lord command held no sway so he continued.

“Are you that much of a coward that you could not have just asked her a few simple questions? You couldn’t have just looked into her-”

“I could not enter her mind!” Rhys’ breaths were ragged. “Something is protecting that mortal, and it is strong enough to keep me out. So long as those shields of hers remain impenetrable I cannot trust her. I must keep my mate and child safe.” Lucien scoffed, his fire dwindled. “Which is not something I can say I see you doing for your own.”  

Lucien could still feel the cracking of bone and cartilage of Rhys’ nose as it connected with his fist. The argument surly would have resulted in them demolishing the entirety of the business wing had Azriel’s arrival not stopped the two males in their tracks. The Shadowsinger’s haggard appearance set them both on edge, but his words allowed Lucien to breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m done with this Rhys. I cannot keep hur- I cannot do this… she knows nothing.” The High Lord merely looked between the Emissary and the Spymaster. Expression relaxed and revealing nothing, even as blood dripped over his lips.

“Bring her up to the Moonstone Palace,” the commanded was towards his brother, “Since Lucien is so smitten with the woman he shall remain with her there for the time being.”

Lucien soon found himself outside of her cell. Only darkness and cold emanated from beyond the door. He paused his own breathing, wondering if she was even still alive. The last time he saw her, she hadn’t hesitated to slice open her own skin. Azriel wasn’t far behind and pushed past Lucien to enter the room. Lucien’s breath remained caught in his throat as he took in the mangled sight of her.

You had no idea how long you’d been in the darkness of your cell. Hours had turned into days, but just how many days you weren’t sure. You had gone silent on what you assumed was the third day. You knew nothing of how you got there, and you had no idea where to begin when Azriel-who’s name you gathered early on-asked you about the world you came from. Its not like he would believe you if you said your world had no magic, at least not in the same way it was here. Then again, that was clearly an incorrect assumption on your part. And after everything that has transpired you determined that this was no dream. It was a nightmare come to life. You weren’t sure how much more your psyche could tolerate. Surely death would be better than the horrors that would plague your mind for years to come if you were allowed to live. You prayed silently to whatever deity would listen to let you die. You started as the metal hinges of the door screamed into the darkness. 

“Mother above,” The horrified yet soft baritone drifted to your ears and you strained to open your eyes. You recognized the voice and Lucien’s warm body was immediately next to yours as you dangled from the ceiling. The male made quick work of the metal shackles holding your wrists high above your head, a bright light flooding the small space making you hiss. His large hand encircled your wrist and you could feel the skin repair itself. Lucien slowly lowered your arms down.

“Her name is (Y/N),” Azriel’s voice was barely above a whisper, as if he was ashamed of the space his normal speaking voice would take up in the small cell. As if what he said would break you further. Lucien held you up, warm hands around your rib cage holding you steady. 

“(Y/N),” His testing of your name tentative, “(Y/N), my name is Lucien…I’m going to take you out of here.” His arms wrapped around you, and you could have sworn you felt your skin get warmer, the cold melting away like ice. His grip never lessened, which you were grateful for as you weren’t sure your legs could fully support your weight.

“Do you feel safe enough to come with me?”  You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move your head in agreement. Couldn’t specify that you felt safe with him. You could only muster enough strength to cling to the front of his shirt, hoping it conveyed your trust towards him and him alone. Your eyes burned with tears. He shushed you as one of his hands rubbed up and down your spine. A footstep echoed in the chamber, and then you felt Azriel’s shadows attempt to wend their way over your bare feet. Your flinch was followed by a low warning growl, one that you felt more than heard.

“Follow me,” Azriel’s swallow was audible.

“Can you walk?” Lucien’s hand lowered to your waist, pushing you back far enough so he could meet your eyes. They felt swollen and your vision was unfocused and hazy, but you tried to keep them open so he could see that you would try your best. You shifted your weight back onto your heels and slowly slid your right foot in front of you. A lightning like bolt of pain traveled up your leg. Air harshly sucked into your lungs.

“I’ve got you,” his voice was reassuring as he continued to support most of your weigh in his arms. You took another step forward. Then another and another. His hands never faltered from their place on your torso as he moved himself to walk behind you. Ready and poised to keep you balanced and catch you should you fall. “Good girl,” he praised, “Let’s get you cleaned up so I can heal you yeah?”

The walk up from the catacombs to the palace proper was brutal. Your legs burned from the muscle strain and you were regretting not accepting help from Lucien while you bathed. However, the last thing you wanted was to have anyone see you naked. Lucien had helped enough with getting the large sunken in bathtub filled. The scent of vanilla and lavender contrasted with the grime and dirt that filled your lungs for the last week. You had specifically asked for the water to be scalding, wanting it to burn away the memory of everything that had been done to you in the dark. The deep cold that laced your bones was finally seeping out in the hot water. A soft knock rapped on the stone archway leading into the bathing chamber. Unable to move your neck freely you covered your chest and turned to face the male. He walked over to the bench set near the tub, a bundle of cream-colored fabric in his arms. Unless it was a bedsheet you doubted that any clothing he found would fit you. Then again, magic existed so its possible that the fabric could be altered instantly. He sat on the bench and set the garment next to the towel that awaited you.

“Are you certain that I can’t be of assistance?” He looked beyond you towards the open windows that overlooked the absolutely stunning expanse of wilderness below the palace. A darkened city jutting out from the base of the mountains the only thing that disrupted the sight. You were thankful for Lucien’s offer. Truly you were, and despite the feeling-knowing- that you could trust the male, your self-conscious nature surrounding your body was too strong.

“I-” You cleared your throat of the gravel you were certain had lodged itself inside from screaming against the rocky surface of your cell, “I’m good.” The vibration of your vocal chords felt like sandpaper as they rubbed together. He looked at you then and reflexively you squeezed your arms tighter around yourself; gripping your elbows as you dipped down into the water until everything below your neck was submerged. You were grateful for the tub size making you look small. It could easily fit two full grown adults and deep enough to reach your waist when you stood to full height. It almost reminded you more of a jacuzzi rather than a bathtub.

“Then I’ll leave you to bathe in peace,” He stood and clasped his hands behind his back, “I’ll be in the room just beyond these arches. Just call our if you need anything. I’m here to ensure that you’re taken care of.” You nodded your understanding and turned towards the side of the tub lined with soaps and lotions, his foot steps retreating against the stone tiles. While you had difficulty with your range of motion, you managed to rid yourself of the dirt, grime, and dried blood from your skin. Your hair felt silky, soft, and light compared to the heavy oily mats from not washing it for a week. You had also found a razor nearby and took the opportunity to shave, savoring the feeling that you were becoming a person again. Drying off was easier with the relaxed muscles. The vanilla scented lotion felt like heaven as it penetrated your dry skin. You surmised that the bath had really only removed one layer of nightmares as you scanned your form in the mirror on the opposite wall. Your eyes first saw the plethora of cuts in every size cover the expanse of both your arms, shoulders, and collar bone from the dagger-Truth Teller-that Azriel had used during your interrogation. Next you took in the dark red and purple bruise on the left side of your jaw. The discoloration spanning from the joint below your ear to your chin. It was a miracle that he hadn’t knocked any of your teeth out or broken your jaw from the force he hit you with. Eyes trailing further down you saw a second healing bruise, its blue-green hue spanning the length of your ribs on the right side of your body. Laying down on your side was going to prove difficult still. Finally, your eyes landed on the only injury that you yourself were responsible for. The shadows had played too many tricks on your mind, too many whispers promising to break you. The psychological and emotional pain was worse than the physical injuries and honestly became too much for your soul. Something in you broke. You still couldn’t figure out exactly how you managed to grab Truth Teller from him, too focused on plunging the black blade into your left inner thigh and dragging it along the flesh. You couldn’t reach your throat, so you had been aiming for the next major artery you knew of in the hopes that you’d bleed out fast, but Azriel was quick. His attempt to get the blade back from you pushed it away from where it would do the most damage. That was the last day that Azriel brought any form of weapon with him, and the last day he put his hands on you. Rhysand had only managed to stop the bleeding, but a large and deep jagged slice remained. Had you paid more attention you may not have doubted the guilt that lined his features as he worked to heal you. You didn’t want this to be real. You still held out hope that if you somehow managed to end your life you’d wake up on the cold concrete of the path leading up to your front door. You didn’t belong here.

You shook the memories from your mind and picked up the fabric on the bench. You expected the intrusive thoughts and nightmares, but you didn’t think that they would be plaguing you so immediately. You slipped on the airy cotton tank top and loose-fitting matching shorts. You were indeed surprised they fit as well as they did, let alone fit at all. Your bare feet padded along the cool stone floor and entered the massive bedchamber. The room encapsulated a warmth with its cream and ivory base colors. Splashes of blues, teals, and turquoise giving it a calming effect.  The dark cherry wood of the four-poster bedframe provided an interesting accent color adding to the space. Lucien sat on an ivory colored couch that faced a white marbled fireplace. Sadly, the flames did nothing to help illuminate the space and only seemed to cast heavier shadows. You glanced around the room again and noticed that the bedsheets had been turned down for you, for whenever you were ready to sleep. But you knew you wouldn’t be able to get any real rest with your injuries being what they were. Rhysand had only stopped the bleeding in your thigh. He did nothing for the other injuries. So, Lucien stated he would heal those for you. Carefully walking over, you sat your self on the couch, keeping enough space for another person to sit between you and the crimson haired male. He turned towards you with a slight smile that quickly faltered as he took in your appearance. He moved closer towards you and examined every inch of your skin. His one real eye held no warmth even as a flame seemed to ignite the iris. He took your chin in his hand to get a better look at the bruise on your jaw. His touch was gentle, but even you could tell that the male was furious with what he saw.

“I had hoped some of this had been dirt,” He turned your head to the side, a finger tracing down along the side of your neck. A metallic scent permeated the air as the hand cupped the left side of your face, covering nearly the entire bruise. His gaze slowly traveled down to your shoulders and the cuts that littered and marred the skin of your arms and shoulders. The skin warmed and tingled under his gentle caress. His eyes paused at your torso, no words needed to understand that he wanted to see the injury to your ribs. You carefully gathered the material and lifted as high as your stiff shoulder and neck muscles would allow. His fingers traced the outline of the mark, and you cringed at the touch of his hands moving your fat rolls out of the way so his palms could lay flat against the skin. Embarrassment colored your cheeks. Lucien continued his healing wordlessly. He motioned for you to stand, grasping your calf and propping your leg on the cushion of the couch. Your inner thigh completely exposed to him allowing the full extent of your wound to be seen. You watched as skin healed almost instantly. His gaze then shifted to the healed scars on your upper thigh, near the junction where it met your hip. “Um…y-you can leave those,” you brought your leg back down to stand before the male, “Thank you Lucien.”

“You’re most welcome,” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. You started to pick at your already blunt nails, a nervous habit you used to ground yourself. You glanced around the room for the third time, almost not believing that you were no longer in the cold and dark. The white walls and bedding opened up the space.

“Is…is that for me?” You pointed over towards the massive bed covered in decorative pillows. Lucien’s red hair swayed with the movement of his head as he followed your gesture.

“The bed is for you,” He stood and walked over to the small bedside table to the left of the headboard, “As is this sleeping draft.” He picked up a deep cobalt vial, giving it a slight shake before setting it back down. You hummed and nodded, but didn’t move from your spot in front of the couch. It went without saying that the potion would be needed after what you experienced over the past week. And you would only feel guilty if you woke him in the middle of the night.

“There’s water for you as well,” His voice softened as he noticed your hesitation. You chewed on your lower lip. The sun was still up, but you didn’t know how its position revealed the time of day. Depending on the time of year and how far north, or south, on the planet you were, you estimated it could be anywhere from 3pm to 9pm. You supposed it didn’t really matter as sleep was sleep and you’d likely remain unconscious for several hours, Gods willing at least.

“I will be in the room next to yours,” He pointed over to a door opposite from the entrance to the bathing chamber, “If you need anything, anything at all you come to me. We’ll get you some food in the morning.” You nodded again as your eyes started to water. You didn’t want to be left alone, but you also didn’t want to take up his time more than you already were. So, wordlessly you forced your feet to move and made your way over to the bed. You crawled in under the blankets that had been moved aside. You grabbed the vial from the bedside table and uncorked the stopper. The scent of chamomile, lavender, and something unknown wafted to you. Before you gave yourself time to reconsider you downed half the contents and set it back down. Lucien was patiently waiting at the door and smiled his first genuine smile towards you.

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

“Goodnight Lucien.”

Lucien had answered all your questions, to the best of his ability, during your first day in the Moonstone Palace. He filled you in on the basics of the Night Court and Prythian. For each bit of information he provided about the land or himself, you matched it. He also informed you that while here, Rhysand insisted that you work on finding any potential information of your world and how to get back to it in the texts that he sent. A new stack of books was brought into the small library within the palace every morning. So far, your hours of reading yielded no results. Then again, you could only read a fraction of the texts given to you. Most were in languages that you couldn’t even begin to understand. Still you scanned the tombs for any words that even looked remotely similar to names of places within your universe. Sadly, all you could find was information related to a Midgard, which was frustratingly NOT the same as the mortal realm described in Norse mythology. Lucien then explained that they had already received visitors from this Midgard that were set to return to Prythian soon. You had gathered that one of them was Bryce, but you’d not been given names for anyone else.

In addition to the books you had also been gifted a small wardrobe filled with clothing in your size. It had been awkward when the half wraiths appeared to measure you. But you were provided with some simple dresses, pants, shirts, and under clothes. Nothing fancy, which you were grateful for. Lucien explained the clothes were an apology gift from Rhysand. You told Lucien that if the High Lord was truly sorry he could at least express as much to your face. You couldn’t complain in the grand scheme of things. Rhysand wasn’t obligated to house, feed, or clothe you. He could have easily dumped you in the Mortal Lands, leaving you to fend for yourself. Although, Lucien stated that he knew of two people that would have taken you into their care. Regardless, you did as Rhysand bid, reading for hours day after day and never asked for anything in particular.

Another two weeks went by and you and Lucien developed a little routine. Breakfast followed by hours of research. Then lunch and various exercises and tests to determine if you held any sort of latent magic. Lucien explained that his initial assessment of you that first day showed nothing, but that didn’t mean you were completely without power. Truth be told you felt he was keeping something from you. Then came dinner, after which you were free to spend your time however you wished. Mostly you spent time on the veranda studying the night sky, letting the wind caress your face and hair. There was one night you swore you heard voices held within the breeze. A song encouraging you that you would find peace again. In your world the night time hours used to provide a comfort, but here there was nothing familiar about the constellations that dotted the dark sky above. Instead, the lack of familiarity just made you feel all the more alone. It wasn’t that Lucien wasn’t good company, you just felt bad that he was stuck with you. He tried really hard to get you to relax and fall into the playful banter he likely needed to survive his own punishment. While he never said as much, you had gathered that his babysitting duty was linked to your release and apology from the High Lord. Lucien made your days easy, filled with witty remarks and a warmth that felt natural. An easy friendship had definitely taken root.

However, the nights were hard. You already suffered from extreme insomnia without the added fear of night terrors. So, your sleep cycle was suffering greatly. The first two nights were dream less thanks to whatever Lucien had given you. But the third night resulted in his bursting through the doors of your bedroom at the sound of your screams. As much as you hated yourself for feeling weak, you begged him to stay in the room. He obliged, of course, and slept on the couch. His presence helped slightly. It didn’t chase away the nightmares, but it did make the darkness that permeated the night more tolerable. You had never been fearful of the night before, having even preferred it to the hustle and bustle of the day. You had always the quite of the night to bring you a comforting serenity. But since your time in the cell…you insisted on a fire in the hearth and the faelights to remain lit, believing the light would chase away the shadows that plagued your dreams.

You felt bad forcing Lucien to sleep on the couch. But you also didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable if you offered to share your bed with him. He told you about his mate, Elain, and you felt even worse that your arrival took him away from her. Even if he explained that their relationship wasn’t what would be expected between mates after nearly 4 years of being in each other’s lives. So, you kept the offer to yourself.

Today started out like any other. Lucien and you sat down to a breakfast of eggs, toast and jam with orange juice. You never really cared for tea and coffee appeared to not be available in Prythian if your companion’s confusion was anything to go by. The only difference today were the two additional place settings.

“Are we expecting visitors?” You asked. You immediately wanted to kick yourself for asking what was an obvious question.

“Yes,” Lucien answered, pouring a cup of tea for himself, “I’ve asked some people to come and meet you. As much as I enjoy our time together, it seems that the High Lord still needs convincing that you should not be kept in a cell.”

“I’m not in a cell,” You countered. However, you didn’t miss the fact that his glare told you that your new cell was just a lavish one.

“Our guests may be able to help me make a stronger case for you to be able to move freely about the court, if not Prythian as a whole.” You pondered who he would have contacted. To your understanding, not many members of the High Lord’s “Inner Circle” particularly cared for the emissary. There was also no way that members from another court would be able to hold any sway over the inner workings of the Night Court.

“So, what do they need to know about me?” You asked, spiking the yoke of your egg. In the time spent with Lucien you were able to be yourself for the most part. You held back on your swearing, meme related jokes, and slang, but tested out your sarcasm and dry humor. One of the main things you were worried about was how to speak with others. While you had manners, you had no formal etiquette training. Something that Lucien found utterly hilarious when you asked for clarification on how to address him.

“Relax, its an informal introduction,” His gentle smile reassured you, “Just be the sweet girl that I’ve come to know.” His smile widened. You gave him a doubtful look, tucking your lips into a thin line to suppress a laugh. He batted his irritatingly long eyelashes and the two of you broke out into a fit of laughter. While you weren’t cold or bitchy by any means, you also weren’t a sweet and demure woman either. No, Lucien quickly pointed out that you had a fire within you…at least on your good days. The laughter was cut short by the sound of a thud in front of you on the stone patio. Your eyes immediately tracked the large bat like wings and you stood from your seat. Metal and glass clanged against the stone as your thighs hit the lip of the table. Your chair knocked to the ground, causing you to nearly trip as you backed towards the metal railing. Blood rushed in your ears and your vision started to tunnel. Lucien was next to you in an instant.

“Hey. Hey," He gripped your right shoulder to keep you steady, “Shh, it’s okay. It's not him. You’re safe.” Your gaze remained fixed on the unknown winged male that looked on with worry etching his features.

“See what you did,” the voice of the female he’d been carrying was distant in your ears. Lucien’s other hand cupped your face, forcing you to turn towards him.

“Eyes on me (Y/N),” He encouraged, “Breathe. There you go.” Your eyes focused on his features; the jagged scar-raised and tight, the deep reds sprinkled amongst the warm honey brown iris. Your breath evened out, and you covered the hand on your cheek with one of your own to let the red head know you were okay. You took another breath and released Lucien. However, his hand remained on your shoulder. You turned back to the couple that stood on the opposite side of the space. At first glance, the winged male held features that you noted were similar to Azriel in regards to skin, hair, and eye color. Although, Azriel’s held more flecks of green than the honey gold of the male before you. The unnamed male was taller and broader, his shoulder-length hair softly jostled in the breeze. Your eyes wandered over to the female that was with him. Her striking blue-grey eyes would have reminded you of steel had it not been for the soft sadness that shown in them at your display. You hadn’t expected to react in the manner you did. Your heart still hammered in your chest. You cleared your throat and smoothed down the front of the simple sage green dress you wore.

“I-I must apologize,” You started, “I guess I…sorry.” You wrung your hands together and looked at your feet.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the female spoke up, "It’s this idiot’s fault. We should have given you a warning.” You nodded slightly in acknowledgment. Lucien’s hand trailed down your arm to your hand. He gave it a quick and gentle squeeze before he bent down to pick up the chair you’d knocked over in your haste to get away.

“(Y/N),” He motioned for you to sit back down, “This is Cassian, the General of the Night Court’s Illyrian army, and Nesta Archeron, Valkyrie, sister to the High Lady and fellow emissary.” Lucien gestured to each as they took their own seats across from yours.

“It’s nice to meet you,” You reached across the table, your hand extended to shake theirs. When neither returned to gesture you pulled back. “Sorry, I’m used to hand shakes as a form of greeting in my world.”

“So, you are from another world?” Cassian asked, scooping some eggs onto a plate and handing it to Nesta.

“Yes, we call it Earth,” you searched the table for a spare fork, yours having fallen to the ground. When you couldn’t find one, Lucien handed you his. You raised your eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged and began to spread a blackberry jam on his toast. “And before you ask, there is no magic, at least not the same as what you’re familiar with. Also, creatures such as fairies-the Fae- shapeshifters, vampires, mermaids, nymphs, and so on - are all non-existent. Just stories that have been reduced to myths.” The two regarded you closely, listening to your spiel. When they didn’t say anything you continued, too nervous to allow silence.

“I’m not sure how I got here. There are stories of humans traveling through portals into the realm of the Fae or other worlds, but they are simply stories. Ones made to keep children out of trouble or explain natural occurrences. All prior to finding scientific explanation, of course. Like the changing of the seasons,” You realized you were now rambling, “or fairy rings-rings of flowers or more often mushrooms…” The three non-humans stared at you.

“Don’t Lu,” you warned as the corner of the male’s full lips ticked up, “Yes, I talk when I’m nervous. Yes, I’m nervous because I really don’t know how I got here. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t understand why…I just…want to go home.” Lucien took your hand in his again, his grip reassuring and comforting.

“That’s what we’re all working on,” He assured, “There is a library that, should we manage to convince Rhys-”

“Wait, she can’t leave here?” Nesta interrupted, her eyes blazed. Cassian tensed in his seat and gave Nesta a warning glance. It was clear that not everyone knew of your predicament.

“She’s restricted to the East Wing of the palace,” Lucien clarified, “There are barriers up that she can’t pass through. Just like what Tamlin did with your sister.” If Nesta had been upset before, she looked down right lethal now. Of course, Lucien had filled in you in on what transpired with Feyre and his former home in the Spring Court. Cassian cleared his throat, his gaze falling to the other male.

“What is it you need from us exactly?” He looked to you, seemingly trying to figure out why you posed such a threat that you required to be locked away.

“I need your voice in your High Lord’s ear. I have no magic, and we’ve tried various ways to test that out.”

“Which you’re welcome to see,” Lucien interrupted.

“Yes. I don’t really know how to use a weapon, nor do I have much interest in doing so. And, as I already mentioned, up until a month ago I firmly believed that yo-the Fae were not real.”

“What did my brother say his reasoning was for holding her here?” The question was directed towards the other male.

“He can’t enter her mind.” Cassian’s surprise was not well hidden, “He believes that something or someone is guarding her-” It was your turn to interrupt your friend.

“If I was being guarded or protected, then whatever was responsible has already failed me,” Your voice was soft. A silence fell across the table, and most of the food had grown cold. You didn’t know what else to do or say to convince the General and the Valkyrie of your innocence. All they had to go on was your and Lucien’s word. Even if you were to demonstrate the exercise that Lucien put you through each afternoon with no results, how would they believe that you weren’t just pretending. A ruse to fool them. You desperately tried to quell the pinpricks of tears behind your eyes. You feared that if Lucien’s efforts failed you’d be sent back to the catacombs or worse left to rot on that-

“(Y/N),” Nesta’s clear and calm voice cut through your thoughts, “I’d like to hear more about where you’re from.” You nodded.

“What would you like to know specifically?”

“Let’s start with you. Your family, your up brining.” She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed comfortably in her lap. You swallowed and nodded again.

“I can do that.” You spent the next few hours pouring every detail of your life to the trio. Most information Lucien already knew, some he didn’t. You talked about your family and your friends. You briefly talked about your work and academic studies in music. This caught the oldest Archeron’s attention, which launched a discussion regarding your dissertation topic. The two males excused themselves as you continued to talk with Nesta. The topic changed to books and Nesta promising to bring you some of the spicier romance novels that she found to enjoy the most on her next visit; to which you were grateful as you desperately needed a reprieve from only reading books provided by Rhysand. Cassian and Lucien eventually returned as you made a raunchy joke that had you and the female High Fae laughing loudly.

“It’s time to go Nes,” Cassian set his hand on her shoulder. He looked to you and smiled. The expression was genuine. After spending the few hours you did with the male, you had concluded that he was much less frightening than the other Illyrian. At least for the time being, that is. Nesta rose from her seat and joined her mate.

“I will speak with my sister,” She told you, her features hard with determination, “It’s not right that you’re kept any where against your will when you’ve done nothing to justify imprisonment.”

“Thank you,” You smiled, “I hope to see you both again soon. I’m certain this fool is getting tired of having to entertain me.” You gave the male a wicked teasing grin. Cassian let out a booming laugh as ‘your fool’ placed his hand to his chest in mock offense.

“And here I thought you loved my company,” He stated. You laughed as you stood to join him at the patio entrance.

“Yeah, yeah,” You brushed him off, the smile still plastered to your face. The two of you said your goodbyes and watched as the guests flew off in the distance.

“I think that went rather well,” you looked to Lucien, “Don’t you?”

“Yes, it did,” He held his arm out for you to take, “Cassian agreed to speak to Rhys. He said that he and Nesta would allow you to stay in their home or at least help you get in and out of the library.” You hummed in response as you slipped your arm around his. Your mind wandered, and you felt lighter than you had since you’d been here. He walked you to your room and began prepping the couch to be his makeshift bed for the evening. The sun was quickly setting, and you hadn’t noticed that you spent the entire day talking. You paused near the entrance to the bathing chamber.

“Lu?” he hummed, looking up at you while shaking out the quilt. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course, sweet girl,” You rolled your eyes at the term of endearment.

“That’s sticking now isn’t it?” His russet eye brightened with mischief.

“Now that I know it irks you, yes.” You leveled a glare at his to which he just laughed. You huffed a breath.

“If you’re just going to be mean, you can leave,” You stuck your tongue out at him as you made your way into the bathing room. He continued to laugh as he excused himself to his own rooms. When he returned, you were already snuggled in your bed, breathing deep and steady.

Next: Part 3

Tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower

[graysparrowao3]

Fic Writer Questions

Helloooo! <3 Sorry to not have been around lately, life has been a bit rough but we persevere! Fic writing has kept me going, so this felt apt. On that note, you are loved and valid whoever you are and whoever you love 💛

P.s. While I was responding to this I saw some hugs come in for the hugs tags and I genuinely got a little touched 🫂 Virtual hugs to you all Tumblr friends <3 Please do feel welcome to let me know if I missed any of your amazing creations.

Thank you for the tag in dear @effelants! Who is currently sharing the long-awaited Dragon Age Alistair/Warden fic Sanguine!

An open invitation to all the writers out there who are missing a tag, and also tags to pass along the game and share if you'd like! <3 @dustdeepsea @beesht @velocitross @lolliputian @dutifullylazybread @lostinforestbound @kimberbohwrites @forget-me-maybe @reverieblondie @rinwellisathing @crowwolf @falcatas @shewolfofvilnius @lemonsrosesandlavender @redroomroaving @vera-king-hrfl @lizziemajestic

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

34 works.

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

274,996 words.

3) What are your top five fics by kudos?

I think by and large this mostly reflects when the fics were posted.

What If Rolan Was a Companion - Rolan/gn!Tav multichapter.

The Night at Last Light Inn - Rolan/M!Tav one-shot.

A Perfectly Reasonable Exchange - Rolan/gn!Tav one-shot.

What If Aradin Pushed Zevlor Too Far - Aradin/Zevlor oneshot.

A One Night Stand at The Blushing Mermaid - Rugan/Aradin one-shot.

4) What fandoms do you write for?

Baldur's Gate 3, that's what got me started on writing fanfic and I'm still deep in that brainrot.

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, even if I can't get to it right away. How kind that someone spent their time to read something I wrote and share something about it with me, I mean, that's the dream right there. I want to be sure to share gratitude for it. Also, that social aspect has been so lovely in general, meeting readers, other writers and fandom friends, and I'm always stoked if I comment and the writer replies to me.

6) What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hoo boy. The 10th installment of The Northern Bastards for sure, which was supposed to 100% be the end (and most of the ones before it lolol). At the time I really was committed to it, then things happened in the world and I needed to manifest a happy ending somehow someway. My eternal gratitude to everyone who saw/wanted more even before I was moved to continue writing it.

7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oddly enough, I think it's going to be How to Keep a Man and Lose a Devil, which was suggested and named by @crowwolf! We're 2 chapters from the end, and it's turned the series in a legitimate romance with a happy ending. I'm currently editing out the angsty moments in the rest of the draft because it just started to get sweeter and sweeter and less and less angsty. What a transformation!

8) Do you get hate on fics?

Maybe some that was less-than-thoughtful and discouraging, but not hateful, no. If anything I did almost expect some when I started the NB series but everyone has been incredibly supportive and kind.

9) Do you write smut?

Well, I do now! I've shared before, but for my own psychological safety I was very cautious about that and hadn't written smut before, but it's been very liberatory in adding that to my writing and definitely improved my skill and depth overall. I tend not to write it in isolation (my smut-writing 'experiment' "oneshot" is now 133,365 words and counting, whoops!).

10) Do you write crossovers?

I haven't as yet, but I did have an idea I enjoyed about the Zhentarim crew from BG3 doing a charity episode of Great British Bake-Off which I think would be hilarious.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of.

13) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I think The Night at Last Light Inn with @bihanny's Tav, Nox, would count! That was very fun.

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Huh. Well I'm not sure about all-time favourite. Much like 'fic', I didn't know what 'ship' was until someone told me it's what I was doing 😂 I suppose if I go through the games I like where there are choices, these are the couples that I always go for:

Mass Effect: Kaidan x M!Shep

Dragon Age Inquisition: Cullen x F!RogueLavellan

BG3: ...I don't know what happened. I appear to be smashing Rugan and Aradin together against all of our wills until it became a thing. I enjoy a lot of the NPC ships though, with other NPCs or OCs it's all good!

16) What are your writing strengths?

I think I've received good feedback on my characterizations, especially where it pertains to dialogue. I like to think I'm also fairly good with regards to writing and conveying emotions, personal conflict, and relationships, particularly so far with regards to angsty and emotional stuff.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

Well I had to relearn dialogue grammar, but now that's out of the way... I think sometimes I struggle with coming up with fun and interesting, exciting original things, which is probably why I like writing other people's OCs and fic/plot suggestions. It gives inspiration to go places I might not have come up with otherwise. For fic I also tend to fall back on familiar words/phrases/constructions, but I'm okay with that. It's all for fun.

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I haven't done. I don't have the fluency or knowledge to make it accurate and culturally respectful, but with research or lived experience it would be great to read cultures and languages diverse from mine.

19) First fandom you wrote for?

Baldur's Gate 3, baybeeee! Still here deep in the BG3 brainrot.

Technically my first work on AO3, and how I found the site, is actually a series of posts following the first 3 Dragon Age games, but it's not really fanfic per se.

20) Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

What If Rolan Was A Companion was my first fic, so it will always be a bit special, even though I didn't even know 'writing fic' was what I was doing at the time lolol. There's a lot I'd do differently in it if I were to write it now with the knowledge I have, but it was the start of something special that lead to a lot of things I never would have expected so its meaning extends beyond the writing itself.

[pugh-bug]

No.42 Chapter 4

Art Donaldson x reader slow burn friends to lovers

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list 💕 thank you so much for the love on this series so far I’m really grateful !

Part 3

——————————————————————

‘You should see him after a few games, it’s a lot.’

With a mouth full of burrito, you still managed to laugh at the image Liam and Art were conjuring of Patrick’s sunburn turning him beetroot. The three of you were sat at a cute little place you’d somehow never seen before, probably because you didn’t know the area that well. Art’s choice.

‘So how’s living with this one?’ Liam asked, spitting hummus everywhere as he spoke. Neither you or Art had known who his question was for so you both yelped

‘Good!’

A little too enthusiastically for Liam.

Art’s hair had dried perfectly in the piercing sun rays and the smell of his mint shampoo kept wafting in your direction whenever the breeze turned. Shit. You were supposed to be listening to Liam. What was he saying?’

‘Fridays good.’ Art nodded at his friend, not looking at you for conformation. Clearly someone had been listening. You waited until Liam was texting his girlfriend to hiss at Art what he’d just agreed to - the answer ? - a party at Liam’s.

‘Are you sure it’s okay … if I come?’ Neither boy missed the slight sadness in your question. Your search for validation and fear of the wrong outcome. As Liam beamed at you, reassuring your brain that you were indeed very much wanted at his party and that ‘it won’t be the same without you’ Art’s eyes were locked on your face. You failed to notice.

‘So don’t worry about it okay? It’s not a tennis people thing, just a Liam friends thing.’ He smiled, very genuinely, and you smiled back. When Liam went to the bathroom he noticed Art was picking aggressively at the table, something he’d never seen him do before.

Without looking up from his task of picking through wood one mm at a time, Art asked coldly. ‘When did Patrick say he’d be back?’ Oh fuck it was Sunday! Better check your phone.

2 missed messages.

12:03pm - Text from Patrick

It’s not going well at all. She keeps starting shit with me for no reason she’s a lot to deal with if I’m being honest. Hope your day is better than mine so far

1:26pm - Text from Patrick

You’ve gotta pick me up Y/N I can’t stay here with these people until 9 I’ll catch arsehole disease

Just as you thought of a reply that was both supportive and concerned your phone lit up. Patrick was calling.

‘Pat hey! I didn’t expect to hear fro-‘

‘Pick me up.’

‘Jesus okay-‘

‘Pretty please Y/N I’ll send you my location right now just get here.’

He had a tendency to overreact to uncomfortable situations but you could hear the genuine panic and defeat in his voice. You had to help him.

‘Okay okay but … what’s wrong with Uber?’

‘I can’t afford it.’

You took a deep breath, gesturing to Art to stop mouthing ‘what’s happening?’ so you could concentrate.

‘Okay let me just tell Art-‘

‘Art’s there? Get him to come, he knows the way.’

‘Okay.’

Whilst you explained to Liam the rough situation, Art ran to your flat to fetch his car. With how little time it took him to return you wondered why he hadn’t become a runner instead? He must have done track, at-least.

——————————————————————

It was an hour drive to Patrick’s girls place. 45 minutes on Sundays. You waited until Art had gotten to the motorway before you asked the million dollar question.

‘So… Patrick said you knew the way. How? This is nowhere near anyone’s house that we know.’

Art chuckled, his delicate hand barely touching the wheel when he casually changed lanes at 70mph. His car smelt like him, you tried not to breathe heavier to encase yourself in his scent more intensely. It was growing difficult.

‘Well, I actually … dated Hannah before he did.’

He adjusted his mirror to watch the arsehole behind drive up his ass, for a moment you noticed him looking at the window. If Art ‘his mother could have knitted him’ Donaldson was about to roll the window down to flip someone off you were in for a treat.

‘How long for? Did Patrick even ask bef-‘

‘Does Patrick ever ask you for permission to do something?’

No. Not once.

‘It doesn’t bother me. We weren’t serious and it was a few years before he asked her out.’

You both envied and pitied this Hannah girl who Art seemed to care so little for.

‘Is it not a bit weird though? I wouldn’t want my exes fucking my friends.’

Art glanced over to you, he was driving at 60 again so you weren’t as inclined to grasp the door handle. He looked a little puzzled at your remarks or maybe it was amusement. ‘You thought we’d have different types?’

‘Yes, one hundred percent.’

‘We usually do. Hannah is probably more Patrick’s type.’

Your pity for Hannah grew once again.

‘But clearly, not more compatible.’

When you looked at Art he was frowning. He might have been looking at the road but you knew he was remembering something, something bitter.

You reread Patrick’s text: ‘She’s a lot to deal with.’ but that could mean anything from she takes too long getting ready to she needs to be kept away from others. Once Art said you were close you felt a little uneasy, like you needed to mentally prepare to deal with this girl. If she’d frightened Patrick she had to have something very wrong with her.

‘Art?’

He looked out of it.

‘Is there anything I should know, anything I should maybe avoid saying or doing with this… Hannah? Patrick sounded - I don’t wanna say scared bu-‘

‘Oh he’ll be scared,’ you felt genuine dread for a moment until you saw Art looked solemn not worried. He hid it behind a forced chuckle, as if what he was about to say was a funny anecdote he whipped out at parties to break the ice. ‘She can be a lot.’ There goes that word again. ‘She’s probably the only person I’ve ever met who puts tennis above - well - breathing and she thinks if you’re not playing tennis twelve hours a day everyday you’re letting yourself and her down.’

‘Sounds obsessive.’

‘I did warn him.’

As you pulled up to Hannah’s house you felt a twinge, or an aggressive increase, of guilt for your comment the night before. You should have saved your judgement for Hannah, clearly tennis was her entire life and Art had disagreed with her. Patrick certainly would.

He was sat on her doorstep, like a lost puppy waiting for its owner, but he still gave a quick wave before walking over.

‘Thank you!’ Patrick exclaimed once he was in the car. ‘You two just saved me, I was about to let her coach me just so she’d stop fucking yelling.’ He was sweating and slightly out of breath, poor thing.

‘Art, don’t you wanna go say hi?’

‘Funny…’

Chapter 5

Masterlist

Taglist: @gatorgirl007 @imblushingrn

[wandasaura]

Heyyy I’m a rando but I wrote+interacted on wattpad for over a decade and personally I found it to be full of theft, and children (which was not crazy because I was also a child and then teenager), and harmful misinterpretations and tropes (g!p is a big one that’s very popular), so as an adult now it’s very unlikable and uncomfortable but I think of it now as an echochamber for children to share their work with each other because it’s so accessible; sure why not, that’s their playground I guess. At that time I’ve had my work stolen more by kids than I have on any other site on the internet and it’s near impossible to wholly reclaim that work. If my work is stolen from sites like ao3 or tumblr…guess where it’s always going….

have not touched wattpad personally in years and would not with even a ten foot pole. Also the ad system is atrocious, I remember when there were ZERO ads, and now they’re everywhere, and I understand the importance of that, it’s a free site+app, but yeowza the model is so shite

hi !! okay yes, i can work with this !! the stealing of works on wattpad is absolutely diabolical and outright insane, but i did not realize it was still occurring. regardless, valid point, go off. i can entirely back the wattpad as an echo chamber for children as a child that grew up reading/writing on wattpad. and there was no such thing as tagging back in those no ads, no offline reading, probably first pov golden days. i will say i am very aware of the misinformations and tropes, but i typically just avoid them the same way i weed through them on here (because trust me some of the fics on here are a jarring experience to put it simply)

but the ads have gotten better on wattpad !! we’ve gone from entirely ad free, to 3 fics in offline list, to ads every chapter and 2 offline fics, to 2 offline fics and now ad skips! you watch 1 ad and get 3 ad skips, and i have 55 but nothing to read rn. also would just like to preface that wattpad reading is like a seasonal experience. i find a good wattpad fic once every three months and it fills something in me. it’s like an online experience of eating the frosted sugar cookies at an elementary school party.

[danaty-consolation]

Okay I am going to respond to this just once, so all the asks and comments about this topic will be ignored from now on.

Everyone is free to think, like and ship whatever they want, canon or fanon is there to make people happy, and everyone should respect each other opinions.

Now, I am going to be brutally honest here.

If we follow what you two say, that means Ryu is coded as bisexual, since she is attracted to women and men.

Ryu never had a positive male view in her life, Ataru, Mendou and her classmates? All perverts towards her. Her father? Had I even had to say how horrible he was in forcing his daughter to act and dress as a male just because his sick dream was having one?

Women are the only gender that see Ryu by who she is, a woman, not because of her body but also because of her as a person. They never tried to abuse her, they mostly showed her only kindness without any ulterior motives contrary to the men in her life.

So guess what? It makes sense for her to have her guard up with Nagisa after what he tried to do with her, even if he was pressured bc of a non-existent time limit it doesn't excuse his actions.

However later on, when they live together he is only respectful to her. No touching or hugging, the only time that that happens is because he is asleep, and he only has seen her changing or almost naked by accident.

But the thing here is that Nagisa is the one that tries to talk to her, and is only because Ryu is scared of him thanks to all the males in her life trying to use her in some way and Nagisa's past actions that make her wary of him. She thinks he is like other men and he deserves it because he acted like one of the men she knows.

Nevertheless, we see him actually being honest with her and respecting her wishes and feelings in the last scenes, ready to leave because he thought she hated him. Something that no men had done to her before.

The bar is in hell but at least Nagisa is trying and Ryu see's this.

He is already a better love interest that Konatsu and Tsubasa of Ukyo in Ranma 1/2.

Yes his introduction was late, but he at least received development with Ryu.

Canon or Fanon don't change a thing in fandoms, people love and support what they like.

And we should all respect each other opinions when they have valid arguments, being facts or preferences.

However, I did need to share my analysis because some people in the Urusei Yatsura fandom only saw the old anime and ova's without reading the manga so they may not know a lot of the context later on with Nagisa and Ryu. Heck, I didn't even expected for David pro to animate the one-night's battle chapters next week!

And if they still don't like it after reading my analysis, well good for them! It's totally understandable and I won't judge them or anything because we have different opinions!

The perfect character with flaws that follow the narrative most perfectly can have people who hate them! Some without reasons and some with valid reasons.

Maybe is because of the design? The personality? Something doesn't make people like them and that is okay!

People are free to block the users or tags, so they can still be happy and not ruin the fun of others.

I will keep loving Nagisa and shipping him with Ryu, because of the last analysis I made, some points I covered in this post, and because my opinion of them is really positive.

We are all grown-ups and if some are not, at least act as one for the fandom and to have a more healthy interaction and feed with everyone.

[thetruecthulhu9]

Just saw a rick books tier list that I can't agree with so here's mine

1: PJO

2: kane Chronicles

3: hoo

4: Magnus chase

5: trials of apollo

6: sun and Starlight

7: chalice of the gods

Reasoning:

1: it's the OG, I grew up on this shit and it still holds up. People are building a genuine connection with eachother and it's just solid

2: the concept slaps and he introduced some really interesting concepts. I'd love it if he returned to explore other things they had going in Egypt even if the execution of some of it wasn't great

3: whole thing was meh, I was only rly engaged by Percy hazel and annabeths chapters and even then there wasnt consistent characterisation. I mark it as the beginning of the downfall of ricks writing ability

4: I rly enjoyed the first book, but it stopped being interesting fairly quick. Props to rick for the queer characters it was nice to see, but there have been enough valid complaints about his depiction of muslim characters for me to not rly be a fan

5: again interesting in the first book but had a fast nose dive. I haven't got much to say about it in general

6: the whole concept is bullshit and I hate that solangelo is considered a good ship or that the trauma babies are "cute". I'm tagging this anti solangelo so if u have a problem with my opinion just block the tag??? Honestly it's more official fanfic than ricks writing

7: fuck this book as a concept Percy saved the world three times and the book is a blatant cashgrab

[aaronstveit]

20 questions for 20 writers!

tagged by the bestie @afaramir abby thank you so much for giving me an excuse to avoid writing tonight <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 45!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 492,078 and literally a solid quarter of that is from c&b oh i'm laughing.

3. What fandoms do you write for? right now only for les mis but most of my works are trc and in 2019/2020 i wrote a bit for soc and aftg.....

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? oh i'm laughing these aren't even GOOD.... 1. [redacted soc fic] 2. makes me feel a little bit closer to you - pynch clothes sharing fic 3. c&b (my most beloved this is the only valid entry on this list) 4. i ain't gotta tell him (i think he knows) - pynch ithk songfic 5. all the time, all the time (i think of you all the time) - pynch fic where ronan is tutoring adam in art

5. Do you respond to comments? mostly yes! for like a solid 2 years i didn't but now i do again <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? ummm i think the only actually angsty ending i have is all too well adansey fic? i'm such a happy ending girlie that's the only one i can think of that doesn't end happily. for obvious reasons.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? i like to think pretty much everything i write ends happily but c&b proposal fic is what comes to mind since i finally finished it THREE ENTIRE YEARS LATER very recently

8. Do you get hate on fics? no i have been very lucky so far actually!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? no because i am afraid

10. Do you write crossovers? i do not!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? nope not yet!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? only the theoretical AUs that coco and i like to talk about but never commit to writing <3 although really you could consider coco my cowriter on most of my fics (especially c&b) like so much of them comes from her fr. love you coco <3333

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? oh i can't pick. that's like asking a mother to pick her favorite child. right now those dead gay french revolutionaries have my heart but tomorrow, who knows?

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? ugh i hate admitting defeat but. but. i am aware that beloved beloved pynch band fic will probably never be finished. which is a SHAME because i have soooooooo much of it planned out i mean like. i've got full albums designed. most of the beats are mapped out. i've got fake tweets written up, i've got chapter titles and scene drafts. like the entire concept is there and i'm so obsessed with it. but i just. after all these years it is extremely unlikely that i am going to actually, you know. write it.

16. What are your writing strengths? beginnings. i am so good at beginnings. that's why i have so many wips. also i like to think i'm good at dialogue. i try to write conversationally even when it's not actually a conversation and i think that translates well to actual dialogue it's fun.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? endings. i can't end anything to save my LIFE. also just plots in general escape me. and i always end up writing 10k more words than i meant to.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? um other people who can do it definitely should! i however cannot do that. i did however use my extremely limited knowledge of the french language for the section headings in my most recent fic and i like the effect it produced i think.

19. First fandom you wrote for? all evidence of their existence has been wiped from the face of the earth but my very first fics were one star wars fic and one agents of shield fic circa like. 2015.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? legally i'm obligated to say c&b but right now actually i'm still very very happy with how exr rooftop fic turned out. literally the entire time i was writing it i was just having a blast. i love writing angst and stuff it's like chewing on a polly pocket toy. now that i'm evil i never wanna write fluff again. i'm torturing those fictional guys fr.

tagging besties @television-bodies @gingerpeachtea and anyone else who wants to do it! ♡