#this is the dumb edit i mentioned last night

[kaysungshine]

Redamancy ['red-a-man-sE] noun ;a love returned in full

Part II out now!

{ Pairing } - idol!bangchan x staff!afab.reader (with a hint of bestfriend!jisung?)

{ Genre } - NSFW, the trifecta (s/a/f), frenimies to friends to lovers? idk but we'll get there in the end

{ Synopsis } - Han Jisung is your new bestie & technical colleague, of course you befriended the rest of his members. Group nights became a tradition, & tonight involves liquor and drinking games for the first time. Truth or drink?

{ WC } - 6.7k

{ Warnings & tags } - 18+ MDNI, NSFW, smut, angst, fluff, drinking, breath play (choking), swearing, dry humping, use of 'babygirl', mention of wet dream, talk of edging, talk of domming, talk of choking, talk of exhibitionism, all of ot8 is suggestive af when they drink, reader and jisung are PLATONIC I promise they're just touchy, they're all giggly drunks so overuse of laughing chuckling and giggling, chan is kinda dumb in this he just... is in denial land but we'll find out more about that later, unrealistic work scenarios, unrealistic dorm setup? idk lol

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated with the actual skz, and is a fictional piece. I DO NOT own Stray Kids, this fic is just influenced by them!

{ A/N } - Okay I know I took forever to post & this intro is hella long & I'm sorry! Once again, I will say this is my first skz fic. I come from the world of AO3 & dramione. I am out of my comfort zone lol. First time posting stories on tumblr too! So if I missed anything please let me know <3 there will be a part 2, I've already started writing it! The plot is weak af, but gimme a few more stories and I'll find my groove. Promise! Unbeta'd, be gentle with me ♡

It was supposed to be a relatively chill Saturday night, so you were excited. You just got off work, and had arrived at Jisung's. He swung the door open smiling and pulled you inside, into an immediate hug. Everyone said their greetings, and then Jisung went immediately to whining.

"Finally, what kept you so late?"

You took your shoes, mask, sunglasses, and hat off, letting your curls fall down your back. Then you unzipped your sweatshirt, shrugging it off your shoulders and exposing your fitted white tee. You gave your jacket and bag to Ji so he could put them away. You always arrived in 'disguise', in baggy clothing so that no one suspected anything. Though you thought it was ridiculous. It doesn't matter how baggy the sweat pants or hoodie is, there's no hiding the curve of your ass.

You were a content editor at JYPE, and had become really good friends with Han Jisung. Friendships between idols and staff certainly aren't forbidden, in fact they're encouraged to an extent... as long as no lines are crossed. But it's pretty much an ignored rule. Anyways, you were a small 'behind-the-scenes' employee, not a manager or assistant or makeup artist. Not anyone directly involved with any idols. No one off the street knew who you were. Still, over the last almost year or so, you and him became besties. You frequently shared meals together at work, had sleepovers, you even went camping. You were basically glued to each other. It could easily be taken the wrong way by the media and fans. Hell, it gets taken the wrong way by co-workers, other idols, and even his group members. Although they've mostly accepted that's not the case. It's a given with the way you two act though.

Your relationship is definitely platonic, confirming pretty early on that neither of you felt anything more than friendly love for each other. But you both love teasing the other suggestively. You suppose that's partly why you two got so close so quickly. Your personalities are so similar, it's like you share the same singular brain cell sometimes.

"Editing, per usual." You finally reply with a sigh, "We had to cut A LOT out of nexz's new video. They're so high energy, they slip up a lot, especially with the swearing, but nothing we can't handle."

"Gotta love kids." Chan snorts while sipping a beer.

You smile awkwardly in response and look around the room. Everyone is here, all with their preferred beverages, and chatting away or scrolling.

Ji comes back with a drink for you, he knows you're partial to tequila and always keeps it on deck. Normally, you spend every weekend you can together, which sometimes is not as often as either of you would like. Sometimes you'd both head back to your place, and just have all nighters, binge watching anime and gorging yourselves on junk food. More recently, like tonight, you get invited over to hang with him and the rest of the boys.

It usually results in a few drinks and a movie, or talk about work. Sometimes you just play music and talk and vibe, or try to cook food together when you get the munchies... Which more than likely results in Minho taking over because he just can't help himself. However the nights play out, they're always fun, and you're gradually getting closer to the rest of the members too. Although no one can compare to the bond you have with your Jiji.

"I don't wanna watch a movie tonight, my eyes hurt too much." He starts complaining.

"Poor baby." You tease and run your fingers through his hair, laughing.

"When are you two just going to come out with the fact that you're in love?" Seungmin asks.

You roll your eyes, "When dwaekki's fly."

"I can easily make that happen." Changbin laughs.

"We could play a game?" Felix suggests, already looking flushed from the alcohol.

Jeongin gets excited, "Let's do a drinking game! It's been a while."

"I don't believe I've ever played a drinking game with y'all."

Hyunjin hums, "Mm, you haven't. Mostly because we get crazy, we've never brought up the idea."

This piqued your interest, "More crazy than I've already seen? I don't think that's possible."

Minho chimes in this time, "You forget we're a group of men sometimes, I swear. Mix alcohol and suggestive games, it definitely gets 'crazier' than you've seen, inappropriately crazy."

You level him with a smirk, "I'm down."

"That's my y/n!" Ji says, while pulling you to sit in his lap, "Fearless."

You giggle and lean into him while Minho just narrows his eyes at you and purses his lips. Something tells you he's up to something, but you're ready for any challenge.

"Fine. Then we'll play something easy, truth or drink. If someone refuses to answer, they drink. Whoever finishes their drink first loses." Minho says.

"What does the loser have to do?" You ask.

"Pay for everyone's lunch every day for a month!" Changbin says.

"Deal." You say. 

You're an open book, Ji knows this. There's no question you won't answer.

Everyone is up now, getting new drinks & refills before the game starts. You can't help but notice that Chan didn't get up, he looks a little nervous for some reason. He was always the most worried about you being around so much. In the beginning it definitely came across like he didn't like you. Now you know that's not the case... you think. He tolerates you now to say the least. You couldn't blame him too much, he was just protective of his boys. You actually found it incredibly sweet, or maybe it's just that stupid soft spot you have for him.

He always tried to keep you at arms length from the group. Not wanting anyone to get too close to you. Until Jisung put him in his place, as best he could anyways.

You were in Ji's lap, watching Spirited Away. He was drawing imaginary lines and shapes on your back, while you rested your head on his shoulder, facing the tv. His head was resting on top of yours as well, and a blanket covered you both.

Chan walked in seeing this, and nearly had a stroke. He said we were being inappropriate. And specifically made it a point to tell you to be more professional as a member of the staff. Short version: know your fucking place, you're overstepping. 

You scoffed at him, prepared to confront him about his growing disdain towards you. Let him know he's the one being inappropriate, downright childish. But Ji nudged you onto the couch and got to him first.

It was kind of cute watching him standing there, ears becoming red and getting in Chan's face. Cute in the way that it was like a maltese puppy trying to stand up to a doberman. Then he proceeded to yell at him about how he was way out of line. Saying he was being flat out disrespectful and that he was done with the ridiculous way he has been acting about you. The last thing he said was that he didn't know what got into him, and that he'd never seen this side of Chan before. 

Chan was silent, looking intensely into Jisungs eyes. But he never backed down, so Chan poked his tongue to his cheek, then retreated to his room for the whole night. You had to scoop Ji off the floor right afterwards. He had let his knees buckle, and fell to the floor once Chan was gone. Citing that he wasn't sure he was going to live through the night to see the morning sun. Typical dramatic fashion for your best friend. But you soothed him, fluffing up his ego about 'defending your honor'. His words, not yours.

As that night went on though, the tiniest bit of worry coursed through you. Chan hadn't come back out. Not even when the other members came home, trying to knock on his door to greet him. Or when the food was ready to be served, you had even given knocking a try. Only after Hyunjin begged you to, because 'He already doesn't take care of himself. He needs to eat.' No, you didn't see him again that night until you had already walked out the front door. He slipped out behind you shortly after, grabbing you by the wrist and stopping you. 

You thought he was going to continue the argument for a moment, but no, he was apologizing. Not much more was said afterwards, but his apology was genuine and heartfelt, so you accepted it. You two ended up hugging it out, and thank goodness no one saw that, because it was incredibly cringeworthy. He had no more major issues after that. But he was still unexplainably awkward around you, but it's not like you were any better. You two simply didn't know how to interact with each other for longer than 30 seconds. And that was pushing it. You suspected that might not ever go away. He likes to keep his walls high and strong, and you're stubborn at times.

But of course,  despite that stubbornness. You developed some sort of feelings towards him. Feelings you refused to acknowledge, well tried to refuse. You would push those feelings down deep within your heart, put them in a little box, and tape it shut trying to forget it's there. There was no need to pine over the man, he had stay to do that for him, and who knows who else in his life. Somehow that box always ended up ripped open again.

There was never a reason to act on these feelings. Not to mention, you think you'd be breaking SO MANY rules. Putting your job, his job, hell everyone's job at risk. Or worse, making a fool of yourself when he would downright reject you.

You keep watching him, now he's shaking his leg up and down, seeming agitated. Maybe he just doesn't want everyone getting into a vulnerable state of mind while playing? Maybe he's worried somebody will say or do something wrong? That someone will cross a line, as he loves to say?

Trying to ease his negative feelings, and extend yet another olive branch. You toss a throw pillow at him, hitting him in the chest and pulling him out of his thoughts.

He looks at you, eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, and you just chuckle nervously at him saying, "Don't worry, it's like Vegas. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

"God how fuckin' corny was that?" Ji teases you, poking your side making you giggle more.

To your relief, Chan is laughing with you, and shaking his head, "I just want them to behave."

"Oh relax, we're all grown. We're all friends. So we'll get to know each other more intimately, big whoop." You shrug.

"Mmm..." He replied, before raising his voice so everyone could hear him, "Whatever is spoken about tonight, doesn't leave this room."

"I swear you're the one with anxiety sometimes, not me." Ji mumbles.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... dad." Hyunjin says as he sits next to you and Ji.

"As if that announcement even had to be made, I swear, and you wonder why we call you old." Seungmin comments.

Once everyone is settled in with their drinks, Minho directs Chan to start the game.

"Jisung, when was the last time you cried?"

He laughed, "You're trying to embarrass me because you know it was this morning, but I am confident and secure in the fact that I am a sensitive man."

He said the last bit with his hand over his heart, and his eyes closed, effectively making everyone chuckle.

"My poor baby, why were you crying?" You question teasingly.

"Please don't bring it up, he'll start blubbering all over again. Stupid, sad, dog rescue videos." Seungmin mumbles.

"Minho!" Ji shouts, pointing at him dramatically, "This question is for you. If you had to kiss someone in this room on the cheek, who would it be?"

"Hyunjin." He said bluntly, making you and everyone else laugh while Hyune just rolled his eyes.

"Would you kiss me back?" He asked him, eyes full of hope and bottom lip jutted out and pouting, trying to act cute. And succeeding, honestly.

Hyunjin acted like he was pondering the question, but ultimately was the first to take a sip from his glass, "I decline to answer."

He looked to you next, a suggestive smirk on his face, making you the next victim, "Y/niiieee..."

"Oi, be respectful." Chan scolds immediately, not liking the look at all.

"All I was going to do was repeat the question!" He said defensively, "Y/n, if you had to choose, who would you kiss on the cheek?"

You tried hard to keep your eyes from trailing over to Chan, a tingly feeling spreading across your skin at the mere thought of innocently kissing his cheek. Instead you chose the easy answer, because it wasn't a lie. You'd also kiss your best friend on the cheek any time.

"My Jiji of course," And you took his face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks between your middle finger and thumb, and plant a loud smooch on each of them, "he probably only asked because he wanted one anyways."

He just chuckles, letting you baby him and Seungmin fake gags.

"Minnieee..." You pause trying to come up with a question, "when you dye your hair next, what color would you want?"

"Green, my entire head green."

"That would look interesting." You laugh.

You all go 'round in circles for a few rounds, completely forgetting about the rules of the game. Having now finished your glasses from casually sipping throughout the game, most of you have switched to occasional shots. You're starting to feel warm and tipsy. Of course the more you all drank, the more the questions started to get more... amorous. Which is exactly how you all assumed this game would go. No wonder Chan was so anxious.

However looking over to him now, he's definitely having a good time. Like every other person, he loosens up while drinking, but tonight he seems even more so.

"Y/n," Chan starts with a sly look making your skin buzz again. Among all of you, he is 100% the most inebriated right now, "when was your first kiss?"

"Yah! He tells us to be respectful, but look how he is after a few drinks!" Changbin yells laughing.

Chan loses it, "You're right Binnie, you don't have to answer or drink." He says in between fits of squeaky laughter. 

You think you could listen to him laugh all day.

You shake your head and snort, "I've answered worse questions playing this game before. I was 13 when I had my first kiss."

Hyunjin nearly spits his drink out, because again, no one is drinking just as punishment anymore, "13?!"

"Well, yeah, it's a pretty normal age in America... I think..." you started to blush, "why, how old were you?" you ask Hyunjin.

He hesitates, but eventually he spoke, "I was 18."

The rest chime in saying they were also 18 or 19. With the exception of Felix who said he was 16.

Without even thinking you start to say, "Aaah, see I was 18 when I-" and you're abruptly stopped with Ji's hand slapping over your mouth.

Your eyes go wide, caught off guard, but understanding as you almost blurted out unnecessary information. Nothing that Ji hadn't known obviously, it's just that everyone else doesn't really know you on that level. 

"Jagi, you only had to answer the one question, adding extra info, that's not how you play the gaaaaame." He says in a sing-song voice, "Hyunjin it's your turn to ask someone."

"No no no no! What was she going to say?" Chan chuckles.

When you looked at him, he winked at you, and you had to stop yourself from going limp in Ji's arms. He knew damn well what you were going to say. Why is he teasing, no torturing you like this?

You peel Ji's hand off your mouth to respond "It's not your turn, you'll have to wait to ask me that."

The group starts laughing and shouting, teasing Chan who is ignoring it all, just staring at you with curious eyes and his tongue in his cheek. Does he know how hot he looks doing that?

"Okay, so then I'll ask you. What were you going to say?" Hyunjin asks calmly, trying to fight the smile off his face.

You pour yet another shot, and knock it back thinking, what the hell, "I was going to say I was 18 when I first hooked up with a man."

Some members looked surprised, the game taking an obvious turn. However Hyunjin, Felix, and Chan started laughing again.

"I knew that's what you were going to say." Felix slurred. 

"Yeah I was definitely teasing you on that, because I knew." Chan followed.

"Mmm, well judging from the shocked faces of everyone else, you two seem to be the only psychics." You try to joke, wanting the attention off of you suddenly.

"No, don't get us wrong, not all of us are as innocent as you think." Seungmin says defensively.

"Oh really now?" You respond, one brow quirking up.

Seungmin just turned red, and sat back in his seat. To which Chan started laughing, yet again. He's a giggly drunk, and you love it.

"Don't tease my puppy, babe." Ji slurred, trying to reach his arm to console Seungmin, but ultimately failing.

"I mean I was 18 too, with the same girl I first kissed." Hyunjin shrugged.

"But what do you mean 'to a man'?" Jeongin asked with a shit eating grin on his face. 

You promptly turned into a tomato, and started choking on air.

"You're not that slow pabo, obviously it means she's been with women too." Ji says, rather loudly and speaking freely, all while patting your back.

You're quiet. It's not like it's a secret, you've never hidden your sexuality. But it never came up in conversation with anyone here, except Jisung.

Wanting to ease the tone, Felix speaks up, "Well I was 18 when I first hooked up with a dude."

"I was 21, but everyone already knows that story." Ji slurred.

The whole conversation triggers another group laughing fit. Except for Chan, who is looking at you with those dark eyes again. And... is he blushing? Or is that the alcohol? He eventually snaps out of whatever daze he was in, and slowly smiles at you reassuringly.

You mentally kick yourself for getting your hopes up, of course he couldn't ever think of you like that. You're imagining things.

"But then, how old were you when you first hooked up with a girl?" Jeongin asked again, genuinely curious.

"A lot younger than 18..." You trailed off laughing, "I'll just say in high school."

"The air is different outside of Korea." Changbin says suddenly, sounding thoughtful.

Hyunjin nearly collapsed laughing, slapping Minho on the knee repeatedly, despite the glare he was shooting him.

"Well I just answered a bunch of questions in a row so that means I get to ask two people a question. And the second person I ask gets the next turn." You say, making up new rules. 

"So... Chan." He looks at you with his eyebrows raised and you just smirk, knowing you're trying to get back at him, "How old were YOU when you lost your virginity?"

He gulps and looks around at the group before answering, "I... was 18."

"Chan-hyung, you never answered us when we would ask you! Why answer her?" Jisung whines.

"I honestly don't know, maybe it's the liquor. None of you ever asked me drunk." He starts giggling.

"Okay so question 2... Binnie!" He gulps and looks at you with wide eyes, "Are you more of a boob guy?" You say grabbing your own, not even really thinking about it, "Or an ass guy?"

Changbin started laughing and answered, "Definitely ass, but I appreciate boobs too, equality."

"I am just learning so much about my fellow members lately." Seungmin whispers.

"Is that a bad thing?" You giggle.

"Not at all, it feels strangely comforting, letting loose like this." He replies and smiles softly at me, "It's been a while."

"It's freeing!" Jeongin yells abruptly, throwing his hands in the air.

"Aye, my question is for you then Min. Have you ever had a wet dream?" Changbin asks.

"... what guy hasn't? Don't all guys get them?" He asks looking around.

Then you chime in again frankly, "Girls can get them too you know."

Why does it feel like you've opened pandora's box on your sex life, in every single aspect?

Ji starts laughing, nodding his head vigorously and you know where this is about to go.

"Really now?" Felix says, mimicking your exact tone from earlier, "What was it about?"

"Mmmm... it's not your turn to ask," Then you turn to Seungmin, "And if you ask me, I will absolutely drink and not answer. No way I'm explaining a sex dream right now."

Seungmin just rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh.

"But I wanna knooooooow," Jisung whines, "You looked so cute having one last weekend, you never told me what it was about."

Everyone was watching you two closely now, waiting to hear how he knew what you looked like in that situation.

You turned around and smacked his arm, "We weren't going to mention that ever again! Remember?!" You attempt to be angry, but you can't help it and end up smiling.

"Okay, well now I'm curious since you two are bringing this up." Minho says with a glint in his eye.

"Y/n may or may not have had one when I slept over, and I woke up to her moaning and hump--"

This time it was your turn to slap a hand over his mouth, "Jiji, Sungie, my love, my sweet sweet SWEET best friend. I don't want to kill you, but I will." You say in a dulcet tone.

He raised his hands, eyes wide and nodded his head. You couldn't help but laugh, apparently you're a giggly drunk too.

Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Chan adjusting himself in his pants. But then you reminded yourself that it was just wishful thinking and an alcohol induced hallucination. Horny hallucination. God you needed to get over him and under someone else. This unrequited shit wasn't for you.

"I'm so never going to drop this you know, I wanna know what the hell happened." Minho smirked at you, to which you flipped him off jokingly.

It's Seungmin's turn next, and he's just staring at Jeongin with a blank face, "Have you ever had a one night stand?"

He pauses for a moment and then finally answers, "No, I haven't."

He looked at you now, asking his question, "You know what I have to ask now, right?"

"Go ahead." You challenge, fully prepared to choke down another shot and not answer his question, and he smiles.

"What's one of your kinks?"

You were unprepared for that question. And how could you know he would ask that, these men like to fuck around with your head.

"Relax, I just wanted to see your reaction." He says before chuckling.

You glared at him for a moment, halfheartedly. They think they can just retract questions when they get scared that they went too far. Screw that, you're answering.

"I guess the most simple one I have is edging." You shrug.

"The most simple one?!" Hyunjin asked.

"What are you a masochist? Edging is the worst, feels like torture to me." Ji says.

"But the build up is so delicious, and the end result is so worth it. It's so intense." Felix chimes in, "Choking too, that can be intense." 

"Hm, breath play might actually be my favorite." You admit.

"Damn y/n." Ji says, eyeing you with a smile, "You're full of surprises, even to this day." 

You shrug again, "Everyone has different kinks... What's one of yours?" You ask him.

He ponders for a moment, "I like being dommed sometimes."

"Big surprise." Minho says and you all laugh.

"Good one though," You nod, "That's one of mine too."

"I think I'm an exhibitionist, to an extent of course." Hyunjin says next.

"That's also not a surprise." Minho replies.

You can't help but let your eyes wander over to Chan again, while everyone else is sharing different things they're into in bed. The liquor has everyone speaking loosely. But Chan doesn't seem to care about it anymore.

You find him staring right back at you, that same look in his eyes from earlier, and you feel heat spread in your stomach, and wetness starts to pool in your panties. Maybe you weren't imagining things.

But you don't notice that Ji's observing both of you in his drunken haze. Not too faded to ignore you and Chan eye-fucking each other.

Your heart starts racing the longer you hold eye contact, and you start shifting uncomfortably on his lap, before looking away and deciding to get up.

"Alright... I need some bread to soak up this alcohol, and then I need to get home because it's already 2 in the morning." You say with a shaky breath.

"Yeah, I'm wasted right now," Jeongin says and stands, "Bed's a good idea. Goodnight everyone." And he leaves to his room.

Ji grabs your wrist, preventing you from moving, "You're not going anywhere. We're all drunk, you can't drive and no one can bring you back home."

"Fiiiiiiine," You say, "but I still want bread."

"You and your bread fixation whenever you drink." Minho mumbles, heading to the kitchen anyways to grab you some.

When he comes back he hands it to you and you start munching away happily, doing a little dance.

Meanwhile, Felix is trying to tug Chan's arms to make him stand up, but he's fighting him on it and whining. Clearly he exceeded his limit tonight drinking. He probably won't even remember the looks he was giving you, you think.

"I don't wanna go to bed." Chan whines.

Felix finally succeeds in pulling him up, "C'mon mate, you definitely need to sleep this off. You'll be miserable tomorrow. Let's get you some water too, hmm?"

Chan reluctantly holds his arm, and follows him down the hall, stumbling over his own two feet along the way. You can't help but laugh at the sight.

More of the boys say goodnight and head off to their rooms, but Ji and Minho stay with you in the living room, chatting a little longer before bed.

Ji starts going through his bags, determined that you left some pajamas here from when you slept over previously, and he kept them in a bag to give back to you. He pulls out the nightie, that you honestly forgot you brought here. But you see why you didn't ever wear it at the time. It's dark green, spaghetti straps and has lace along the bust line. It also has slits on each side of your thigh, and only covers you to the middle of your thighs. Your go to sleepware was always nighties or large tees, they're comfortable and sometimes you get hot at night. Mix in the fact that you were drinking tonight? You're already feeling overheated. But wearing this?

"Jiiiiiii, don't you have any t-shirts I can wear?" You whine.

He's already under the covers, fighting sleep, "Sorry babe... haven't done laundry... Nothing clean..."

You whine again before taking it and heading across the hall into one of the bathrooms. It was this or sleep in your sweats, and that idea sounded entirely too suffocating to you.

You slip the nightie on and brush your teeth with your designated toothbrush you had there. Jisungs idea, after you had too much tequila one night and he diligently held your hair back as you got sick.

You sigh as you're leaving, and make your way towards Ji's room. Before you reach the door though, Chan walks out of his room. He's in a black tank top, and red boxer briefs... your eyes immediately trail down and go wide. His outline clear as day. But you change your view quickly, hopefully before he notices.

It doesn't help though, now all you're doing is eyeing his arms, the muscles cut throughout them. The veins that trail all the way down to his hands. God, his hands... What wouldn't you let those hands do to you...

He scratches the back of his head, and the movement snaps you out of your gaze. You find him staring back at you for a second before answering, "Sorry, I'll just..."

You start to shake your head, "No, no. No reason to apologize." You chuckle and start shifting on your feet. You feel the skirt of your nightie swaying with you. It opened the slit wider, and Chan immediately looked down at your exposed thigh. He inhaled quietly, sucking in air through his nose.

Any other day, you'd be scrambling to cover yourself. Feeling insecure and too bare. You don't know if it was the liquor in you, but tonight? Being on display? It turned you on.

You clenched your thighs together, almost involuntarily, and Chan didn't miss that.

Time seemed to be moving too slow. He stepped towards you, nearly closing the gap between you. He's only inches away, and looking down on you. His eyes have that dark, smoldery look again. He raised his hand and brushed the curls off your face and behind your ear. When he rests his palm against your cheek, your eyes flutter shut and you lean into his touch. It's so warm, and comforting. As if it was always meant for you.

When you open your eyes, you can clearly see the lust in his is only growing. He's not holding it back anymore, biting his lip as he stares at you. You almost whimper in anticipation.

"This is your opportunity to walk away if you're not okay with me kissing you." He says lowly.

You closed your eyes, and his lips met yours. The first few seconds were sweet and soft. Almost too innocent for the heat of the moment, but then he deepened it. He was pulling you by the waist into him, running his hands down and resting them on your ass. You could easily feel how hard he was for you, even through the thin fabrics. This time you let the whimper out, and he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. When you tried to do the same, he didn't give you the chance. Instead he slipped his tongue in. It was like he was lost in desire, and greedy for more. You couldn't help it when your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

He groaned and started backing you into the wall, his lips never leaving yours. He grabbed your thighs in each hand, and hoisted you up, slotting himself between them. Your legs naturally wrapped around him, and he started rocking his length against you. His pace was achingly slow, but still delicious.

You moaned and slipped a hand up to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of hair. He breaks the kiss and throws his head back with his eyes closed. He half hisses, half groans, and you can't help but rock your hips against him harder, hoping to hear more. He grips your thigh tighter, and leans down to press a quick kiss to your neck, before licking and sucking on it. He's meeting each roll of your hips with rough thrusts. And even clothed, you feel how perfectly he's rubbing your clit.

Your head is so clouded with need. Need to be touched. Need to touch him. Need to feel him inside of you. You don't even think twice when he glides his hand up your stomach, and over your breasts. He gives one a light squeeze before moving up to wrap his fingers around your neck, and your brain loses all sense for a moment.

He's just resting his hand there, but you wish he'd do more. You're not sure if this man knows just how pliant you are for him right now.

Then he brings his lips to your ear and whispers, "Can I touch you?"

His warm breath gives you chills, and you nod your head as best as you can. But that doesn't suffice him, he stops his movements against you and his grip around your throat tightens. You think you could probably get off on it if he tightens his fingers just a bit more, but he doesn't, instead he says, "I'm going to need words, babygirl."

Your hips buck into him, and you breathe out a quiet "Yes. Please..."

With that, he yanks your face closer to his by your neck. He's squeezing ever so slightly tighter around your throat. He bites your lip and you groan. But he's quick to silence you with his tongue.

Letting go, he trailed his hand back down your body and to your core. Slowly he started to rub you through the thin lace. You were so sensitive, that when he found your clit and pressed a circle into it. You couldn't help but breathe out his name. He pushed your panties to the side, and when he felt you for the first time you felt him smile against your lips.

"Babygirl... fuck, you're so wet for me." 

And as he whispered that, he slipped a finger in you. He set a steady pace, dragging against your walls with a curl. Each pump hitting your sweet spot, and the heel of his hand creating delightful friction against your swollen bud. His breathing was heavy in your ear, breaking through all your helpless whimpering. When he added a second finger, you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Chan..." You moaned louder this time, while simultaneously letting your head drop against the wall with a thud.

He pulled his lips off of you, eyes wide when he met yours. He started blinking as if he was coming back to reality. When he looked into your eyes again, he looked startled.

"What's wrong?" You pant, feeling hot and dizzy, wishing he would keep moving his hands.

Instead, he quickly slips his fingers out of you, and sets your feet on the floor. Then he backs away.

"I'm sorry, y/n... I don't know what came over me, that was incredibly inappropriate and out of character." Chan mumbled.

Your heart sinks, as you feel the sting of rejection. Tears threatened to well in your eyes, and you immediately felt the oncoming headache from holding them back. You shouldn't feel so emotional and upset. This was all spur of the moment. But you do, you feel devastated.

Regardless, you clear your throat, "I understand." You force an unsettling chuckle out, when a sob threatens to escape instead.

He puts on a blank face that feels so cold, and responds with "Don't forget to drink some water, stay hydrated... I'll be heading to bed now, you should too."

All you really want to say is don't leave, because you want to finish what was started. Because you've wanted this for so long. Because the box you kept away in the depths of your heart had ripped open once again. And all the languished emotions were here, front and center, aching to bear it all to him. To let him see. Confess. But that would be selfish, he's clearly uncomfortable with it all. He probably regrets it. An alcohol induced affair. In his eyes, a complete mistake. 

So instead you say, "Okay."

Because that's all you can muster before the tears start to fall. You turn away,  going back to facing Ji's door. 

"Goodnight y/n... Sleep well." He says, and puts a tentative hand on your shoulder.

You shrug it off, and escape to Ji's bedroom. To your surprise he's sitting up in bed, and ushering you come to him with his arms open and bottom lip pouted out.

You run to him, a bit dramatically and fall a part in his arms. But you can't help it, you sealed these emotions away for too long. You were too hurt at the moment to even try pushing them back down.

Jisung is your life saver, he's comforting you, rubbing his fingers on your scalp and rocking you back and forth to try and calm you. He gives you time before you have to explain why exactly you're having a melt down.

"Chan's an idiot." He finally says.

And you lean back to look at him, confused on how quickly he's put two and two together.

"Well you weren't exactly quiet. Between your exaggerated moans and his animalistic grunting right outside my door, of course I heard it." He rolled his eyes jokingly and that earned a laugh from you.

You smacked him lightly, "I was lost in the moment... don't judge me."

"Jagi..." He says, and wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, "You've liked him for so much longer than a moment."

Your heart starts pounding faster again. How could he know that. It's the one thing you've kept from him, from everyone, hell you even denied it to yourself for as long as possible. Was it that obvious? Who else knows? You go to speak, fear written across your face.

"No. You were not obvious, in fact you're an amazing actor. I'm sure none of the other members noticed, and definitely no one else at work knew." He answers before you can even get words out.

You nod slowly, "So then, how'd you know?"

He smiled proudly, "I'm a people watcher, I see all."

You smack him again, a little harder this time.

"Alright, alright, but I really did see all the looks you'd give him when no one else was watching... I know what longing looks like, and..." he trailed off.

You knew that wasn't all, "And?"

"Aaaaand... maybe that night you had that wet dream. You were moaning his name while humping the pillow..."

"You never told me that!" You shoved your head into your hands, distraught.

"Well I didn't want to embarrass you! I honestly didn't think you looked at any of us that way until then. Like I said, a good actor. I figured you'd tell me when you were ready to."

You sighed, "I'm sorry. It's just a stupid crush, it'll pass."

"You're grown, you don't have to apologize to anyone for liking someone. But y/n," He cupped your cheek forcing you to look at him again, "this isn't just a simple crush, is it?"

With that question, you felt the tears spilling all over again. He pulled you to lay down with him, holding you tight against him and letting you cry it all out. Somewhere between his low humming, and your quiet weeping, you fell asleep.

When you blink the sleep away from your eyes the next morning, you're still entangled with Ji. He's literally wrapped around you like a koala.

You snort out a laugh and go to check the time on your phone. 7:30 am, entirely too early. You decide to try and fall back asleep, but last night's events rush back to you. Dread fills your chest, and your fight or flight kicks in. You're trying to gently escape Ji's hold, and not hyperventilate. The latter is more difficult but, since that man can sleep through anything, you were able to succeed.

You get changed back into your clothes, and leave a note for him saying that you're leaving and you'll text him when you get home. You can't bear to face Chan, let alone anyone else who might've heard you two last night. So you decide to skip out on the usual coffee and breakfast routine. You all have that tradition after a drunken night, but you know Ji will cover for you with everyone anyways.

You're rushing down the hall, wanting to grab your things and head for the door. Panic is starting to bubble over, and you're haphazardly covering yourself up to be unnoticeable. As you're slipping the mask over your face, a voice stops you.

"Morning... don't you want to stay for breakfast?"

You can't bring yourself to look at Chan, those words only setting the box of emotions in your heart on fire. You know he only means it in the way that it is an unbroken tradition. No matter how sick one of you gets, group breakfast is a must for recuperation. No one has skipped it in the months you've been doing it. We all take care of each other. But the idea makes your mouth bitter, because you wish it was just you two. Alone. Making breakfast the morning after earth shattering sex. And the fact he doesn't mean it in that way in the slightest makes tears prick back into your eyes.

Yes, you know you're being petty. You should stick it through for your friends. Take a page from Chan and act like nothing ever happened. You just can't find it inside you to care, you need to go home and lick your wounds before facing anyone here again. Call it childish, but you didn't care.

You're struggling to find words and just blurt out, "No thanks." And rush out the door, heading to the safety of your car.

You left Chan standing there. Unbeknownst to you, hurting just as much.

Special thank you to @jeonginsleftcheek who encouraged me through finishing this! I had finished it, and then accidentally deleted the entire ending. But in turn, that was a good thing I think... because now there'll be a part 2! If you'd like to be added to a taglist, let me know and I'll start one! Feedback is always cherished, but be gentle pleeeeeeeease ♡

[lynnlovesthestars]

Scars.

Pairing: Astarion x reader Genre and warnings: angst, lots of it, hurt barely any comfort, allusions to sexual assault, past trauma, graphic description of torture, kidnapping, blood, violence, set in act 3, mention of death. Notes: not proof read ngl, i wrote it after dreaming it, and i didnt even wanna read it again, i cried like a bitch cause it’s kinda like…. past experience projected? just yeah dont ask if im ok after writing this, the answer is no lmao... also just a side note since it’s the first time im posting on this profile, but english is not my first language so please be mindful about it. Edit 10/06/23: i finally went through it end edited it.. i hope i catched all the errors cause idk if i'll ever be strong enough to give it another read ahah

Getting so close to someone meant so much for Astarion, and the more he cared, the more new fears would swim through his brain. 

Since you arrived in the lower city, and his bed was no longer cold at night, a new nightmare snuck in.

The idea that Cazador would be able to get to you, and weaponize you against him, made his cold blood run even colder. Several nights you woke up to a trembling and sweating Astarion, as he was begging for mercy. He never explained too much about these nightmares to you, just letting you know it was about Cazador again and again, but he left out the haunting possibility of you getting hurt because of him. On the other hand you believed it was because you were getting so close to the Szarr palace, and Cazador knew about it just as much as Astarion did.

It was the middle of the night when the sound of a broken glass stirred you awake. You looked around you, Astarion still deep into his meditating state, while the others were asleep as well, none of them reacted to the sound like you did. Maybe you just had a light sleep, you thought, and someone in the tavern dropped a few glasses or something. It was when hands gripped your wrists that you jolted up, looking behind you. It was too dark to see, and all you could spot were the deep red eyes, like Astarion's, though they lacked the warmth of his.

A shiver ran through your spine as you realized what was happening, but when you tried to call for the others, you realized how deep in shit you actually were: no sound would leave your lips, like you were silenced.

"There's no need to be afraid, Tav." A deep cold voice whispered so close to your ear. "They can't hear you".

The voice chuckled at your failed attempts to call for Astarion, Karlach or anyone, as tears were starting to pool at the edge of your eyes.

Another pair of hands took hold of Astarion, magical shackles fastened around his hands and feet, just as they did to yours, and then they started dragging you both away.

The deep voice spent the whole travel taunting you with stories of Cazador, how cold blooded he was, and just how much he enjoyed torturing his victims. From one point of view you were already accustomed with such stories about him, but from the other, the idea of Cazador getting hold of Astarion again, made your blood freeze again. You were not going to let Cazador hurt him again. You were set on the idea.

When you reached the corridors of Cazador's palace, the silencing spell finally wore off, though Astarion was still not moving. Terror flashed through your eyes as you wondered if they had already…

"What did you do to him?!" You breathed out as you tried so hard to keep your calm in front of the spawns that were dragging and pushing you through the dark hallways.

The spawn scoffed as he pushed through and through.

"Don't worry, he's not dead" You could feel his eyes rolling at the question, like it was some dumb question you should have known the answer to. "..yet" he added at last.

You couldn't stop your mouth from twitching, between the state of rage that was slowly building up, or the terror of them hurting Astarion.

"What's going on? Can i know that at least?" You wanted so bad to cast a spell on him, charming him into freeing you, but without the use of your hands, you were useless.

"Cazador wants to give you a warm welcome into Baldur's gate" He giggled, as the smell of old blood mixed with the sour taste of the bile threatening to spill from your lips, and you couldn't hold it anymore, and your feelings started spilling out.

You couldn't help then to try and get Astarion free at least. You wanted to shake those hands off of you, to wiggle out of the shackles that bound your magic, but no matter how much you tried, you were like set in stone, unable to do anything but move forward, shed tears, and talk. Or more specifically, beg.

Beg them to hurt you, instead of Astarion. 

Beg them to keep you here, and let your star free.

Beg them to turn you if needed, but spare Astarion's life.

Anything, if it meant not hurting the man that stole your heart with a dagger to your throat.

Quickly you were tossed in a cage, adjacent to Astarion's, and locked in.

The shackles that bound your feet dissipated, as the cage started ascending upward.

It halted in front of an altar, you guessed, that directly faced into the chasm you ascended from. Other spawns, around twenty you were able to count, started taking seats around the edges, sitting all in religious silence on their knees.

Astarion was still passed out, cradled on the floor of the cage, both restraints still tightly bound to him.

"Please, please, please" You cried out as the last bit of your strength was going to be dedicated towards trying to get Astarion free, far away from this place. "Let Astarion go, i beg you" You repeated your plea again, as you saw all those spawns stir from their seats, they wanted to turn their heads, to face whoever was foolish enough to beg Cazador for mercy, to trade spots with Astarion.

Everyone in that room knew what was going to happen, he was going to show them what happens when you disobey, when you run away thinking you can escape him. Instead you were so foolish and blinded by love, that you wanted to take Astarion's place, unaware of the extent that Cazador would go to. Yet you didn't stop, you kept begging and begging until a voice, the voice, echoed through the altar's walls.

"Tsk you just gave me a wonderful idea" the man hummed as his scepter started glowing, and Astarion started stirring awake, he looked around him, his tired eyes quickly widening as the reality around him had set in his mind.

"Let her go, you son of a bitch" Astarion growled as he stood up so quick, and gripped at the iron bars separating him from Cazador. 

"Touch her and I swear I'll spill your guts right here" He spit out of the cage, a symbolic spit cause you were too far away to reach him.

"My, my, our dear Astarion has forgotten all the manners" He cooed as his lips smacked together, his voice so honeyed it was bringing you to the verge of vomit.

You wanted to reassure Astarion, let him know that you were going to do your best to free him, that you were both going to be out of there alive soon, but could you? Could you lie so much to the man you loved? Words were stuck on your tongue, making your throat drier and drier.

You guessed you zoned out for a few seconds as your head was flooded with thoughts, missing the hate Astarion was throwing at his master.

"Ah sweet Astarion, your dear Tav has given us a great idea though, it would be a shame to let it go to waste" He hummed, as the staff light up again, the lock on your cage fell down the chasm, as your trembling body was slowly being dragged out of the cage by magic.

"No, no, no, no" Astarion reprated as his eyes locked on you, falling on the long streaks of tears running down your cheeks as you tried to offer him a sad smile, your lips muttering an "it's going to be okay" while his body was about to give in to desperation, loud sobs echoed from him, as your heart broke at his sight: he was barely standing up now, his hand gripped tight as he screamed through the hall to let you go, to not hurt you, to stop. "This is just a nightmare" He fell on his knees as you were slowly dropped on the cold floor, barely keeping your head up as you realized you were still in his shirt, the one he loved on you.

"Oh dear Astarion" Cazador cooed again as he kneeled in front of you, his cold fingers getting ahold of your chin, to tilt your head towards his. "This is not a nightmare, this is real" His words were like cold daggers through your chests, you knew that whatever was going to happen, it was not going to be fun.

Before you could say anything, Cazador's hand slipped to your waist pulling on the shirt as you flinched away, disgusted by the touch of the vampire in front of you.

But he didn't care, he was swift in removing it, leaving you bare in front of dozens of eyes.

You could hear the rattling coming from Astarion's cage as he attempted to break free over and over again while his chest was about to explode.

He didn't have the right to undress you in front of everyone, he didn't have the right to touch you at all, not when he prayed every night to have the chance to see you bare, to hold you. His thoughts were swinging back and forth between desperation and deep seethed rage.

"My, my I can see why our Astarion has fallen for this little creature" Cazador's compliment almost made you retch as you stumbled back a little. "She even puts up a fight" He chuckled as he lunged forward just enough to grip at your wrist and whipping you on your feet.

Every inch of your skin was visible to everyone, from the battle scars you got through the years of adventuring, to the teeth marks on your neck, down to the stretchmarks that lived on your hips.

A shiver ran through your spine as Cazador’s fingers grazed over the two marks on your neck. “Mh, your blood seems to be sweet enough, right Astarion?” His cruel words hit Astarion through the chest. He was one word away from a breakdown as he couldn’t do anything but witness his nightmares coming alive, not his Tav, not when he would be so careful to cradle you and comfort you to his chest whenever he'd drink from you.

Whatever he was screaming was incomprehensible to you, as all you could feel was the way Cazador gripped and pushed you towards a plush chair, where he sat with legs wide open before dragging you on his lap. You felt so nauseous as he bent you towards the arm rest, making you face the cold grey floor.

You wanted to hear the taunting explanation of what he was going to do, but all the sounds were drowned by the thrumming of your chest and the desperation in your own thoughts, repeating over and over that you were going to find a way out, trying to convince your brain to shut off and dissociate as you were there, like you were just in a nightmare, and you’d be awake soon.

All you could gather was few words like “knife”, “mark”, reminder”, and then “Astarion”. He was torturing him through you, and you couldn’t do anything about it. The worst part in this, was that you were the one that gave him the idea, cause you wanted him to free Astarion, and instead he let it all out on you instead than on your Aster, as a punishment for you both. You cause you were so careless to offer yourself though you didn't know the risk, and Astarion for being reckless and disobedient. Right there, as the dagger pierced your spine, you regretted not whispering Astarion how much you loved him, while you were tight against his chest, when the world around you was asleep, and you had a corner of peace. You always knew what you felt for him, from that moment on the beach, at the shipwreck, and yet you just wanted to tell him in the right moment. But what was the right moment? You might never know, as a broken scream broke through your lips, salty tears flowing free, so much that you thought for a moment that you might have died of dehydration, if the knife wasn’t going to do it first.

He carved and carved over your back, intelligible lines and symbols as you finally understood what Astarion meant when he told you how he got his scars. How gut wrenching the pain was as he couldn’t move, and how Cazador didn't allow a break, and retraced the lines that were wobbly if he moved too much.

“You know?” Cazador asked, as everyone’s eyes were on what he thought was a work of art, your carved skin, while Astarion’s plea echoed over and over in the room. “Our sweet Astarion used to whine just like you” He hummed. “Just a pathetic little child” He spit out like venom as you could barely breathe out few words along the lines of “you disgusting monster”, though you were not sure you actually let them out until, Cazador’s laugh filled every corner of the disgraced altar. Your tadpole writhed as another line was cut at the height of your hips, before, Cazador started retracing the lines and pulling away the skin, exposing the deepest layers of your flesh, the pain was so deep your vision blurred, and you were so close to passing out right there.

You don’t know how long you sat there, you slipped between pain and numbness as Cazador slapped you back to consciousness whenever you'd slip away, you had to endure the agonizing scarring and remember every second of it. He decorated with bloody lines almost all over your body.

You didn’t know what was worse between laying on the raw scars of your back, seeing your own skin being peeled away or the cries and sobs coming from the man you loved. You had to find a way, you couldn’t give up, you couldn’t allow this monster to walk the earth again. You had to do it for Astarion.

You were not sure when he dropped you on the floor, your body barely able to hold itself together as finally you could look around you and towards Astarion. Every face around you was stoic, like they were used to witnessing such spectacle, and they knew what was going to happen next.

You wanted to reach for Astarion, to take him away from the revolting scene in front of his eyes, you wanted to take away his pain, give him the last bit of hope you had, but when you were about to link your tadpole to his to do it, you hesitated. Connecting your minds meant he would feel how dirty, wretched and lost you felt, along with the gut wrenching pain ebbing through your body.

You could barely make out the words Cazador said as his nails dig through your skin again, even when he pulled your eyes to his you could barely read his lips as he said words you just wanted to cancel from your brain. A broken sob regurgitated from your throat as he was going to take the last thing you had. You just had to let your brain go, right? To ignore the teeth dipping in your throat and the putrid hands slithering down your skin, taking away enough blood to barely keep you alive as he took you in front of everyone.  It was no longer just physical pain, it was the way you felt your own body being stolen away and used in way no one ever dared before.

Numbness was all that was left of you after a while, of your barely beating heart while more hands crawled their way through places were you never wanted anyone to touch, then, in that moment, you realized you were free of your shackles, because you were so drained and broken that you could barely do anything. You could barely by aware of your surroundings, of how many bodies were preying on you, as you could barely manage to move inches.

Your vision was all but clear, you could make out the outline of Cazador as he was buttoning up his blouse again. Then you could see Astarion, still caged, struggling to stay sane as he wanted just to take you away from the monsters abusing of you, abusing of the fact that you were powerless in front of them. His eyes were a bloodshot, he was so hurt that he resorted to supplicate for mercy, to let you go and just kill him, whatever that could stop the agonizing pain. You didn’t have much strength left, maybe if you put all of yourself, you could muster two spells before passing out again. 

It took all you had to even raise your hand towards the lock that sealed Astarion’s crate, you mustered all your willpower to cast that knock spell, just enough to let the damn lock fall down. Astarion instantly turned to you, to your teary form still being touched by unworthy creatures, noticing how your hand barely held up, as you tried to cast one more spell, just for him, before another broken scream echoed in the room, bouncing from wall to wall till it reached Astarion's core. The kind of scream that should never be drawn by someone, nevertheless by you.

The radiant dagger materialized in his hands, and for a moment he didn’t notice it as he was fixated on the broken look on your face, encouraging him to end his master, although you suffered right there, paces away. “I love you” You mutter barely, you wanted to let him know before you could draw your last breath, then everything blurred.

Everything was muffled, you couldn’t see what was going on around you, you just felt all the presences around you disappear, while Astarion’s voice was crystal clear through the excruciating pain.

"I'll kill you, then I'll bring you back, and kill you again.” He shoved Cazador on the floor, just like he did with you, to remind him how he hurt you, how he used you, how he touched the only person he should have never laid hands on. “I’ll do it over and over again until you have suffered a tenth of what you did to her. Then I'm going to gut you one more time, and paint this shithole with your putrid blood. The halls of this place will reek with your disgusting blood, to let the whole city be aware of your death and from which the hands it came from” His hands were shaky, but he had to do it. For him, but mainly for you. All that was left of him was you, and nothing could ever be enough to vindicate you.

The shiny dagger stabbed over and over again through Cazador’s chest, while Astarion cursed him, every thrust of the dagger through the heart earned a new mocking insult, a new reminder of what he did, while all of Astarion's anger was channeled into annihilating him.

You just laid there, all you could do was listen to the grunts and the hate slipping from your lover’s lips as he dipped that dagger in the gutted body. You didn’t even realized when he dropped the disemboweled body on the marble, you weren’t even sure you could breathe, at that point.

A pair of shaking arms wrapped around your drained body, Astarion’s shirt was used again to cover your skin, as he picked you up, trying to be as delicate as possible. His salty tears fell over your body as he carried away from the nauseating scene, you frail body barely shivering, and your chest barely moving. He was muttering something to you, but everything sounded foreign at your hear.

He had to move quickly, find Shadowheart or Halsin, or anyone to heal you, to keep you alive. It was in this moment that he wished he could beg a deity to keep you alive, but he didn’t trust anyone else to tend you. He needed to rush outside of this place and get you to safety. 

He didn’t expect to see everyone outside the locked ballroom door, as they fumbled to open the door. They were taken by surprise at the sight of Astarion cradling you to his chest, all covered in blood, while his eyes were a pit of pain and tears.

Shadowheart didn’t hesitate to heal you right there before they all guided you towards the tavern you've been resting. They all offered to carry you, to make Astarion breathe a bit while on your way back there, but he refused. “I can’t..” He mumbled. “I don’t want..” His voice was just a whisper, broken. “I need” He wanted to break down again with you in his arms, but he had to lay you down first, to let you rest in a warm bed, he had to bring you to safety again, away from anyone that could pose any harm to you. He needed to see that smile again, cause no power flowing through his veins could have replaced you. He failed you once, he was not going to do it again. You saved him, twice, he had to do it just once for you. He had to thank you, and he had to tell you how much he loved you.

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part nine)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 4.6k summary: an album release forces some feelings and conversations — one thing's for sure though, Eddie will always be thinking about you.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of blackmail — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

“We are here this morning with a true music icon in the making, who’s hits like Compromising Positions and most recently Honesty took the world by storm. Now, Eddie Munson is just a few short days away from releasing his sophomore album with his Corroded Coffin bandmates, Assistance is Futile. Welcome to Eddie Munson everybody, yes!”

“Happy to be here, Charles.”

Good Morning America was definitely not the type of talk show the rockstar pictured himself ever getting invited on. He didn’t think his personal style, or the music he was putting out there with the band, would be something the producers would welcome. Considering especially the whole thing was televised live. No cuts, no edits, no take backs. Whatever is said remains out there forever. Quoted and interpreted until the next schmuck makes a fool of himself.

Hosts, Charles Gibson and Joan Lunden, were also known to be quite blunt with their guests. Blunt, but not in the rude sense of the word. Given their history on the network, their experience, they're simply good at what they do, which sometimes means effortlessly picking at a topic until they get a satisfactory reaction or better yet, television worthy answer. Of course there’s always a list of pre-agreed questions, carefully discussed with management and PR teams, but things have known to… slip out.

But Marianne trained him. Extensively. She flew out to New York the second this interview was arranged and spent hours in Eddie’s penthouse hotel room going over details that to most people, people not from this world, may seem minor: how to sit, how to smile, what to laugh at, the amount of seconds it should take him to answer a question. The list goes on. And now she was here, at the studio, to make sure Eddie saw a friendly face in the crowd. Someone to look at in case he got flustered at any point during the fifteen minute round.

“Before we get into the nitty gritty,” Joan begins, crossing one knee over the other, “Eddie, why don’t you tell us a little about how you and the band first got started?”

So Eddie talks. He’s charming as he tells the story, sparing a few details ‘cause he knows he doesn’t have a lot of time. He does however, crack a few jokes, including one about the list of names Gareth and Jeff brought to him one night before they all agreed on Corroded Coffin. Charles laughs before asking the next question about the band's success so far, and what he makes of it.

“Oh man, it’s so insane,” Eddie answers truthfully, “I still have days where I don’t think any of this is real. All of us in the band feel incredibly lucky, for sure.” He nods along as he speaks.

Joan and Charles take turns asking a few more general questions about the band plus the other members who couldn’t make it out today, before settling on the whole reason Eddie agreed to do this interview in the first place: promotion for the new album.

Assistance is Futile was a collection of songs about you — but that was not going to be an answer he gives today, accidentally or otherwise. Instead, the rockstar focuses attention on how the record was built. Technical language that he dumbs down slightly to make sure he’s continuously captivating his audience (Marianne’s advice). He tells them what instruments the group played around with that may not have featured on their last album, which was more classic rock than this new project. And he’s excited as he talks. Passionate.

He continues to lay out the facts. List the number of tracks it features, eleven plus two bonus songs on the extended version. He talks about the writing process, still carefully avoiding mentioning the influence. He won’t say he wrote them all during the aftermath of your breakup. He hasn’t even admitted that to you, despite the fact that you spent every waking moment together since the afternoon at Cove City Sound Studios. He knows he won’t be able to hide that for much longer, but until the album comes out and you hear the songs for yourself, he’ll keep it to himself because things have been so… great.

Sure, things weren’t back to normal. It can’t be the way it was until Eddie finds the time to speak with your management and nip this whole evil grandmother blackmail thing in the bud. At least he’s got you in some capacity. He gets to talk to you again, laugh with you. He gets to hug you, kiss you, touch you. Friends with benefits, or whatever the term is. Eddie’s just glad to be around you.

“Now, here at the studio, we got an exclusive, sneak peak listen to Assistance is Futile, and there’s a little bit of speculation between the crew about the meaning behind some of the songs.”

Boom. There it is. The dreaded topic. And it was going so well.

“Care to share where the inspiration for these lyrics struck you? Who, in particular, they might be about?”

Eddie smiles. “Give into the charade”, Marianne’s words ring in his ears, “But by any means, don’t confirm their suspicions”. Not an easy task. A slippery slope by all accounts. He ever so slightly glances in the direction of his manager who nods her head to show encouragement.

“Who do you think they’re about, Joan?” Eddie bounces the question back.

The presenter smiles. She knows she shouldn’t say. Yes, it would be good for ratings, but bringing up your name is not something that can be done lightly. She knows that. Hence why Joan hoped Eddie Munson wouldn’t be smart enough to avoid the initial question. But the rockstar’s been trained and he’s not about to mess up with two minutes to spare.

“Well, I’d say my friend Charles here. He’s got, what was that one lyric, legs for days and a wicked smile.” Joan deflects. Ever the professional.

The whole studio starts laughing. Eddie joins in, satisfied with the way this worked out. 

“You’d be right on the money there, Joan.” The rockstar nods with a wide smile before continuing, “Charles Gibson has been a constant inspiration for Corroded Coffin songs. There’s not a lot to do in Hawkins, where we grew up. Gotta write what you know and my uncle has an affinity for this show.” 

He turns to the camera to say hi to Wayne, “I know you’re watching.”

Then shifts to look at the hosts once more, winking at the gentleman sitting across from him.

“Charles, you sexy devil, you.”

The laughter continues. People start to clap, whistle along to Eddie’s perfectly curated response. Marianne is beaming with pride because for a brief moment, she didn’t think he could do it. There've been so many mishaps in the past, wild things the band — the curly-haired frontman in particular — have done that she’s had to either smooth over with the media or keep hidden from the public altogether. This morning she finally exhaled. He did well.

You’re laughing too. Feeling proud too as you watch him through your television screen, just like you promised Eddie you would.

Blanket covering your body, all the way up to your chin, as you sit comfortably on the couch. The smile on your face is as genuine as they come. He’s so good at this. Considering how nervous he was, how much time he spent with Marianne going over every possible scenario until his head hurt. You took a mental note to tell him later that he really had nothing to worry about. He’s a natural.

The question about his inspiration for the album didn’t surprise you. It’s pretty standard for these types of press junkets. Even more given the fact your relationship has been the talk of the town for months, especially when the two of you weren’t even together. People love to speculate.

When Eddie told you about the upcoming album, one night after you came down from another intense orgasm, you assumed he wrote about your relationship — especially the failures. Honesty came to the rockstar after only one night. Makes sense that a complete record would be next. He didn’t confirm it though, because you didn’t ask. You would know once it came out, when you purchased your own copy to listen through. Artists supporting artists, and whatnot.

“Corroded Coffin’s Assistance is Futile. Coming to a record store near you, this Thursday, October 14.” Charles Gibson announces, holding up a shiny compact disc to one of the cameras, showing off the album’s cover art: a thundering night sky, with something sinister looming inside the blood red clouds. An ode to the band's Dungeons & Dragons days.

“Eddie Munson, thank you for your time today.” Joan Lunden flashes a pearly white smile.

The rockstar returns the expression. “Thank you for having me.”

Backstage, Eddie gives Marianne a big hug. Thanking her for being here. While returning the embrace, she reassures him that’s never going to change. “Or at least until the contract ends,” his manager teases and ruffles his already wild hair before sitting down on the velvet sofa.

“So, tell me, am I flying back to LA alone?”

Eddie picks up a bag of previously opened Funyuns before leaning against the vanity. He shuffles the remainder of the onion-flavoured corn chips inside the plastic, then starts eating them, one by one.

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging as if it was an obvious answer. “We’ve got the release party for the album. The guys would kill me if I missed it.”

“I’d kill you first.”

He smirks. “Then why ask me the question?”

Marianne gives him a pointed look. One that says, no, screams, he of all people should know why. Eddie got on a private plane to New York so he could “sort something out”, then ended up staying for weeks longer than intended with no explanation. Marianne called him at the hotel multiple times, asking for a return day, but he always gave a vague answer. Then Gareth called, as did Jeff (who sort of already suspected the reason for the delayed homecoming, kudos to Holly), but Eddie continued on the road of avoidance, all while Page Six posted about sightings of him with a certain pop sensation.

“Eddie, you haven’t been this happy since—”

“I know,” he interrupts, “I know and yes, to whatever you’re thinking, but I don’t wanna talk about it now because there’s something I need to do first.”

“What do you need to do?” She asks, puzzled because in the time they’ve worked together, the rockstar has never once left her out of action. She did everything for him. That was her job. One she did gladly because she’s grown to care for these boys.

Eddie sighs, wiping his crumb covered hands on the material of his trousers. The bag of chips lays empty on the table next to him. Of course he contemplated telling Marianne everything on multiple occasions, but each time he chickened out at the last minute. He knew she could fix everything in the blink of an eye. Simply, the rockstar just didn’t feel worthy of that. 

His entire life, Eddie ran away. From situations, from people, from feelings. Anything that was messy, or just became messy. He ran until the distance felt comfortable enough to continue with his life. Growing up in Hawkins, he didn’t have a Marianne. He didn’t have anyone that would stand up for him, so running became second nature. Running fixed his problems. 

By the time the band hit stardom, running turned to escapism in the form of drugs and alcohol. The bubble. Under the influence, the rockstar didn’t care who cleaned up after him and Marianne was so good at her job that most of the time, Eddie didn’t even know there was a problem to run from until it was resolved.

The situation with your grandmother however, was different. It involved you. 

He gave into his instincts and ran. Only this time, Eddie ran to protect you. Threats were made to potentially ruin your career — fucked up, considering the person that made them was also the person who helped kick-start your fame. And as selfish as he may seem to people that don’t know the real him, the rockstar wasn’t willing to gamble everything you built for yourself. He ran.

But Eddie was done running. He was going to fix this and he planned on doing it alone.

“What’s going on?” Marianne stands and takes a step closer, crossing her arms. Concern is starting to fill her veins, though she’s trying her best not to show it. Trying and failing.

Maybe solving this alone wasn’t the way to go.

“Someone’s been blackmailing me,” he admits eventually, reluctantly. 

“What?!” Marianne just about shouts. “Who? For how long?”

“It’s uh…. It’s a complicated story.”

“Well, fuck.” She’s slightly annoyed ‘cause how could he have hidden something like this from her? This is why the band has her. Managing them, planning shit to maintain their career is only a small part of her job. Protecting these boys is a priority and blackmail is a big fucking deal.

Exhaling, Marianne lets her arms drop and proceeds to take a much less confrontational stance. 

“Eddie, you know I’ve always got nothing but time for you, so spill.”

And he does. Starting right at the beginning with Chrissy Cunningham.

-

When Eddie stops by your place later that afternoon, he kisses you, the second you open up your apartment. He kisses you fully, deeply. He’s kicking the door closed with his boot, lips continually locked together, his hands holding you firmly by the waist. A man on a mission and the mission being to make you feel like you're floating all the damn time. 

You smile against his soft lips. Mission accomplished.

“That’s one way to say hello.”

“Hello,” he whispers back, also smiling. “How was your morning?”

“Not nearly as interesting as yours,” you answer his question and turn in your spot, wanting to lead him to the couch. Eddie’s hands remain on your waist as you do so, no inclination of letting go.

MTV is on. The wild-haired rockstar instantly feels at home — a stark contrast to that first night he showed up at your door. Adrenaline pumping. Unsure of the outcome. But it was better than he could’ve imagined, dreamed. Back in your arms with little to no arguments. Back where he for sure belonged.

Honesty comes on. The video makes him smile as he effortlessly pulls your legs over his thighs, hand settling on your soft flesh and giving it a gentle squeeze. The memory of that day with you on set. Eddie wouldn’t call it acting. Hugging you, kissing you on camera. Not a tough act. Natural, actually. That was a good day. You’re thinking it too.

“Magnetic.”

“Huh?”

Eddie can’t tear his eyes away from the screen. “You’re magnetic. Utterly. I almost forgot, but I didn’t really, you know? I-I think about that day often and how much fun it was,” he rambles. It’s sweet. 

“But what I replay in my mind the most is how fucking talented you are, sweetheart. A goddess in front of a camera, I swear.”

You smirk, your own mind flying to something much, much dirtier than what Eddie meant, and he flicks your leg at the institution, all while glancing at you from the corner of his brown eyes. Because there was a video camera left under the rockstars California King bed with a tape inside, a tape that could get you both — although the sexist industry you’re lucky to be a part of would blame only you, mainly — in a lot of trouble, if it ever saw the light of day. A tape for private eyes only. And Eddie wasn’t wrong, you were near damn a goddess.

“Wish we could work together again,” he says, then quickly adds, “Professionally, sweetheart, before you get any kinky ideas.”

That makes you laugh.

“Think you should focus on the album the band is about to release, hotshot. Once that’s a sure hit, then we can talk about doing something together.”

“Well, there is a box in my room, back in LA, with notebooks full of songs…”

He’s trying to be encouraging. Motivational. Really what Eddie’s doing is building up the courage to ask you to go back to Los Angeles with him. In a complete roundabout way, to be honest. The guys would call him a pussy. He was being a pussy. There was however, a lot he still needed to tell you. This whole thing with your grandma, for one. But Marianne was handling that now, and once she gave him the agreed upon sign, there was nothing stopping Eddie from screaming he loves you from all available rooftops — which he hoped to do for the first time at the place you two officially met. 

And with his manager on the case, he knew it would be sooner rather than later.

“Eddie, you’re a dumbass.” Marianne states. There’s a frown on her face, but it’s not serious. Accompanied by a smile that’s giving him a little bit of hope.

“I know—”

“No,” she interrupts, “You don’t.” 

He exhales. “I do, though.”

“Eddie. If you came to me when this first happened, you would’ve never lost all this time with Little Miss Perfect. The fact that you didn’t, the fact that you didn’t trust me with this information, makes you a dumbass.”

“So, you can fix this?”

“There’s a little thing called a Cease and Desist,” Marianne says as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. And in a way, it is. “No one is going to threaten the career of my favourite client and get away with it.”

Eddie smiles. Genuinely. Something reminiscent of relief is flowing through his body, down to the tips of his toes, until he no longer feels heavy. The burden of this situation is slowly lifting.

“With your permission, I’d like to approach her team with this information. They’ll most likely also issue a cease and desist, so that her career is also protected.” Marianne says. “But I guess since all you’ve tried to do is keep her out of harm’s way, the only way you knew how, I’m assuming I have your permission without even asking for it?”

“Yes, yes, thank you.” He’s repeating over and over and over, wrapping his arms around Marianne. A hug they’d both cherish forever.

“Like I said, let’s get you to survive this record release first, okay?”

You’re looking at each other now.

“Take it day by day, Eds.”

“What if I want to skip ahead?”

There’s a lot hiding behind that question. The future is uncertain in many ways. He knows that he wants you, you know that you want him. That’s enough, but at the same time it isn’t. Day by day is easier than thinking about tomorrow, or the next day. He just loves you, which he’ll tell you soon. That’s what he wants to skip too.

On the other hand, you’re terrified. Giving into him again brought no shortage of anxiety about his past behaviour. Eddie Munson hurt you, twice. Second time worse than the first. You forgave him, yet the fear was still there. The question remained: what if he did it again? He wouldn’t, but what if he did? So taking it day by day, as it came, was easier. A shield, of sorts. Protection against hurt. 

Also, it was a lot more fun to act without consequence. To just be. 

Existing with him felt almost normal, even though there was nothing normal about the various interviews and photoshoots the rockstar has been doing promoting Assistance is Futile while in New York, or the long phone calls with his manager and bandmates in preparation for the release party. Nothing normal about your own career, which you’ve slowly been defrosting following the short heartbreak hiatus. Pivoting slightly towards acting as a new form of expression. So you’re reading scripts, rehearsing lines. All without expectations. Day by day.

“Skipping ahead means you, going back to LA for the release party,” you point out.

“You could come with me. The invitation is there, you know that.”

“There’s nothing I’d want more than to be there for you and the guys, Eddie, you know that.” You lean in closer, pressing your body weight into his. “But if I make an appearance, it will overshadow the album you worked really hard on and that’s not fair.”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, pressing his lips to the side of your head, leaving a soft kiss while inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. He slowly nods against you, understanding your point of view.

“So we won’t see each other for a while then, huh?”

“Well, I got that recurring part in Law & Order which is filming here, so that’s a couple of months, at least, that I’ll be stuck here in New York.”

“I can visit,” he jumps in almost instantly, “And you, maybe… You can come out to see me whenever you have breaks in filming?”

“Sounds good, Eds.”

There’s a moment of silence. It shifts towards the heavy side. Eddie’s biting his tongue. He wants so badly to tell you everything he’s been keeping secret, but he knows it’s not a good idea until Marianne confirms she’s consulted your team and the cease and desist letters have been sent out. He’s just not ready to say goodbye yet. Not even for a little while. He just got you back. You’re also lost in thought. Reuniting with the Corroded Coffin frontman has been nothing short of a rollercoaster, in the best way possible. Having him here, next to you once more, kissing and touching you. And you know it was limited. That time would come knocking and he’d have to go back, while you’d need to stay. Bittersweet would be the word to describe how you feel. 

“How about we focus on right now, hm?” You offer, lifting your head so that your sweet gaze catches his chocolate one. Then a short inhale later, you kiss him. Gentle, at first, although not quite a peck. His eyes close on impact as his hand reaches for your face, attaching itself like a magnet. Cradling, squeezing your cheeks. 

And you smile. Fucking smile. Eddie loves it when you smile while kissing him. It drives him crazy knowing his touch makes you that happy. So he can’t help but smile too. Teeth knocking against each other in the process. 

“I’ll never get tired of kissing you,” the rockstar admits.

“I’ll never get tired of kissing you, Eddie Munson.” 

The hand that held his toned abdomen just a mere second ago is now not so innocently sliding in a downward trajectory. You fiddle with his leather belt, unbuckling it rather effortlessly with one hand after you press your lips against his once more. Deeper this time. Wanting.

“But distracting me from a conversation about what’s mph… next,” he mumbles as you tug at his zipper. You’re not giving him a chance to breathe. “Isn’t going to - Jesus - work.”

“Okay,” you’re teasing. It’s a whisper and Eddie’s brain short circuits ‘cause your perfectly manicured fingers are sliding into his boxers, reaching for his semi.

-

“So, you guys are like back together now, huh?” 

Steve’s question lingers in the air for a moment. He’s glancing at his small-town friend turned worldwide phenomenon from across the table, swirling black coffee in his takeaway cup.

Eddie looks out the window at the clouds passing by. 

After getting over his initial fear of flying, since he hadn’t been on a plane until his early twenties, the rockstar decided he enjoyed it a lot more than he thought he would. Things were peaceful up here — especially since he could now afford private jets. Just him and his guitar. Even when he travelled together with the guys, they all got lost in their own thing too, as did Marianne.

The upcoming release party however, prompted an invite to his little sister as well as Steve. So he knew that unfortunately this trip wasn’t going to be a quiet one.

“Something like that,” Eddie answers, turning his attention back to his friend.

Harrington nods. “That’s good, man. She’s great.”

“That she is.” Eddie fails to contain a smile.

“I’m happy for you.” Steve’s words are genuine.

“Thanks, dude.”

The short exchange is interrupted by Max’s snort. The two boys look at the redhead currently splayed out on one of the recliner seats. A book in her lap, one that she’s not really reading, but she’s keeping up appearances anyway.

“To think we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my genius,” she retorts, a smirk now present on her face.

Eddie laughs lightly, but doesn’t say anything. He’s looking out the window again. His mind turns to you. He misses you, even though he saw you not even a half hour ago when you said goodbye before he got on the plane. He misses you. Anxiety building since neither of you are really sure when you’d be able to see each other next. “And that’s okay,” is what you said to him in between soft kisses. He’s repeating it now.

“She’s not coming to the party, right?” Red asks her older brother, briefly breaking Eddie away from his thoughts. 

The rockstar shakes his head. “No.”

“You’ll see her soon,” his sister reassures, reaching for his forearm across the aisle, squeezing. 

“I know, I know.” 

“Then why the sad face?” Steve points out.

Eddie wishes he was alone. Then no one would be questioning him, even though he knows it’s coming from a good place. They just care, he tries to level his emotions, they’re asking because they care.

“Our last goodbye wasn’t so good,” he answers plainly.

Luckily both Max and Steve understand. They exchange a glance between themselves before returning to whatever activity they were engaging in prior to the start of this conversation: Red buries her head in the book she wasn’t really reading and Harrington resumes listening to music on his Walkman.

Eddie is once again glancing out the small jet window. He’s once again thinking about you. 

And he continues to think about you when the plane lands. In the car, on the way to his Hidden Hills home. He continues to think about you when the house fills with people that are there to style him for the release party. He’s making small talk, his mind still centred on you.

You remain the centre of his attention, even when Eddie and the band arrive at the venue, and he’s being ripped ten thousand different directions. Picture here, sign this, talk to this person. He enjoys a drink and he’s still thinking about you. He’s wishing you were here. 

The guys are introduced to come up on stage and even though Eddie is on cloud nine for this release, super proud of the record they put together, he’s wishing you were here to celebrate this with him.

He thinks about you as he sings one of the songs. Breaking News — a song about you, of course.

There comes a point during the night, a split second during which Eddie stops thinking about you. Not for any particular reason. Nothing spectacular happens for him to do so, he just… does. But it’s only a fleeting moment. He regrets it as soon as he realises. He especially regrets it when Marianne approaches him, a concerned look spread across her usually composed features — although the rockstar doesn’t pick up on her expression immediately.

“What did you think of the performance?” Eddie asks, smiling wide.

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she reaches for the half-empty glass in his hand and sets it aside before exhaling a sigh.

He furrows his brows, the smile fading as quickly as it appeared.

“Eddie, there’s been an accident.”

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

celebrity skin. masterlist

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie, @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @ohmeg , @hereforshmut , @eg-dr3amer3 (if your user is crossed out, it means the tag isn’t working. pls check you’ve enabled tagging in your settings)

[diorcities]

you honestly admire jaemin's patience. it's nothing new, the boy must have enough tolerance to spend all the time with dream. so it's very hard to get on his nerves, you know. you have tried. from stealing his computer mouse when he was editing photos, pulling out his chair, and talking non-stop. that worked for you the first two times that night, when he fucked you and then licked his seed out of your pussy, and then when you rode him in the chair where he was right now. however, jaemin would always remain calm, he would fuck you calmly, and he would speed up when you told him to. eager to please you, always.

you looked at him on his computer, his desk full of tabs with photos of jeno. you knew it was a tempting opportunity.

jaemin was so used to your attitude that he didn't even flinch when you leaned into his chair, your lips going to his neck. you hear him murmur, but nothing else. a small smile escapes from your lips, when you go towards his ear. “why do you pay more attention to jeno than me? i wanna fuck.”

“i'm not,” he defends himself. “we already did it twice,” he comments afterward, embarrassed. you smile at him with tender “then let's do it a third time,” you whispered, sucking on his earlobe. “give me a minute,” was all he said. the answer you didn't want. you snorted slightly, despite the fact that the situation was going exactly where you wanted it to be. “i bet jeno would,” you whisper, “would what?” he asks, absent-minded. “fuck me.” physically, you could see that you hit the nail on the head. and you continued. “bet on it” your words trailed off as jaemin gets up from his chair and pinned you between him and the desk. the muscles in his arms tensing under his soft skin, turning you around, your back against his chest.

his hands remove your underwear, which falls to your ankles, tossing them away with your feet. you feel him drop his pajama pants, and without warning, he shoves his cock all the way into you, causing you to let out a small gasp. his hands push down your lower back, arching your body, his arm across your chest, pulling you closer. and without warning, he starts pounding into you.

his movements are relentless, the sound of the impact vibrating in your belly. free hand going to your clit, rubbing circles before it's replaced with his hand, fingers stimulating the sensitive area. “harder” you manage to say, between moans. “how hard?” he asks, a hint of anger in his voice. you can't help but laugh, half exhaling. “oh, fuck me dumb.”

his arm moves away from your chest to move towards your shoulder, leaning over the desk, beginning to thrust into you. ruthlessly. fiercely. your eyes squeeze shut, your pussy being abused by his cock, pounding your soft spot intensely. again. and again. your mouth spewing curses and incoherent sounds as he fucks you the way you wanted for so long. without being able to spin a single thought. who would know that mentioning his friend was gonna be the catharsis of his behavior? squeezing your waist, twisting your arms for more support, letting him ruin you. “faster,” you exhale, “faster.” your requests are jaemin's commands, being the obliging boyfriend that he is.

his movements increase in speed and strength. you hear him moan and growl behind you, near his own climax. emotions on the surface make your hands travel to your mouth, drowning out silly sounds that come out like a prayer from your lips. feeling the knot in your stomach tighten, your limbs numb, trying to hold on, to his desk, to him.

a wave of spasms runs through you as the destructive orgasm washes over you from head to toe. your half-open mouth lets out one last moan, before succumbing to the desk, your legs trembling, your body totally fucked up. jaemin's movements become faster and more desperate, until his body tenses and you feel his seed spill inside you, leaking from your pussy. he does a few more thrusts, before pulling it out, feeling his warm breath in your cunt, licking his seed, and inserting two fingers in your pussy, catching you by surprise.

yes, it's very difficult to get on his nerves, but not impossible.

[strawberrysnoopy]

ACT ONE: The Photo Shoot, part one

prologue

summary of the series: for months, leon has been writhing in his bed dreaming of his friend's wife (you). he's been fighting the desperation for months until that one night you bring up a lingerie shoot you've done for a prestigious brand.

summary of this part: recalling the first time you and leon met, you've realized you've been poorly treated by your husband. leon is no different, in a toxic relationship with his wife, ada wong. as the seeds of resentment have begun to germinate, the desire for you grows like a brush fire nearby.

warnings: MENTIONS OF PUKE, BUT NOT ACTUAL PUKING, leon teaches you how to smoke (i don't wanna see no dumb stupid comments about "oh but leon hates smoking", well leon isn't disloyal but here we are), brief use of (adjective) girl (atta girl, good girl, silly girl), praise, mentions of misogyny (not from Leon ofc), awkward, tense ass convos, a fuckton of desc. and a little description, no sex (yet ;) ), cussing, descriptions of fucking, descriptions of masturbation, semi-public masturbation, almost caught masturbating, slight corruption kink (? if you squint), alcohol consumption, use of tobacco, smoking, implied sexual references, etc.

also a/n, writing this as of feb. 2nd, 2024: 60 notes?!!!!! i was writing this for my own personal pleasure but like...??!?! i got reblogged so many times?! im gagged, tysm you guys!!! making a playlist rn, so excited to release the soundtrack. if you see little random edits, i'm probably obsessing over the fic and trying to make it perfect lol/anticipate changes. i would also like to write I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING! always communicate with your partner, discuss issues, etc. this fic is just a lil’ taboo type of fantasy, do NOT cheat on your partners.

The first time you met Leon was at a grocery store: two weeks before your husband would have any idea of his existence and one week before he had invited Leon and his wife, Ada, over for dinner. You were picking up a bottle of red wine for you and your husband under the guise of wanting something nice for date night. The reality would actually be you were buying it for yourself after your husband decides you're not worth his affections anymore, lazily mosey on over to the spare room, and pull out his phone to text other women. The wine would be something to drink to inebriate you while you watched a shitty re-run of a sitcom from the 90s. Maybe if you got lucky, Golden Girls was on.

He was only browsing, stumbling upon the liquor section and staying to look if there would be anything worthwhile. And there was. It was you. He knew he had to think of something witty, something cool people say, before you left and thought he was some creep staring at you because he saw a smidgen of your breasts in a magazine. "You're a famous model, right?" He asked. Oh, how stupid he felt. He was a chronic overthinker: thinking of every last terrible scenario, a trait he picked up after becoming an agent. This had certainly felt like one of the worst options he picked, especially with how you would-- You interrupted him. "Yeah, that's me." The subtle sweetness, the slight rasp in your voice was better than anything any street drug could offer with the amount of dopamine flooding into his brain: overloading every neuron, synapse, dendrite, and cell membrane in his body.

But for whatever reason, he stretched his hand outwards and lazily grinned towards you. "I'm Leon." "Nice to meet you. Well, I'd say my name but y'know..." He nodded in an awkward agreement before you could even finish your sentence, but not daring to go as far to interrupt you. He felt as if he already started off the conversation with a cumbersome beginning. "Right, right. So, that's your real name? I see a lot of models use stage names n' stuff like that." He adjusts his weight from one foot to the other, switching the hand holding his grocery basket from his right to his left. He felt so...awkward around you. Maybe it was the fact you were a famous model, or maybe it was the fact you were just so calm. The joke causes a soft chuckle to leave your lips and the mere look of a fleeting moment of bliss to cross over your features makes his knees turn into gelatin. Those nerves solidify into stone when the overwhelming sense of guilt hits him like a tidal wave but allows it to wash over him for the sake of continuing the conversation.

"Yeah, just my regular name. I'm not that creative outside of modeling. Usually the photographers do the thinking and the creative processes for me." He chuckled, shaking his head and barely moving himself a little closer. Leon wanted to sink in that gentle, warm, and soft presence you carried around with you. Your aura felt comforting: like a hug after a tough day: it had felt so much more different than his wife. True, Ada could be affectionate but that's usually only after something good has happened to her or Leon was her last resort of attention. He really hated how much he would act like an obedient dog, awaiting her arrival home, coming back to her after she's treated him like dirt. You? You felt so goddamn altruistic and considerate. And he's only known you for three minutes.

You notice he's gone silent and you're silently hoping he thought you were cool. Cool. Like a teenager trying to fit in. You silently cringe at yourself until he smiles at you, almost like he's signaling you to continue the conversation. You can't think of any conversation starters. And you're a model for gods sake. You're usually so outgoing and social with other people but now it's like a cat came by and stole your voice box. Thankfully, he takes over that portion for you. "Buying wine?" He knew it was dry as all hell but he wanted to steer the conversation away from him being a fan of your modeling gigs. No, he just wanted to talk to you and discover what you were like behind the camera. (Okay, and maybe he wanted to see if you'd flirt with him.) "Yup. But I'm just buying wine for..." You paused, about to say 'for me and my husband' but your throat becomes dry whenever you feel like you're about to announce it to him. "...Myself."

He smiles. He likes that you're awkward in real life. The fact made you feel more real, like you weren't just some sexy model with expensive tastes and a bratty attitude. You were a person like anyone else.

"Right. Me too, just uh...just browsing." You nod, fidgeting anxiously with the sleeves of the coat you decided to toss on last minute before leaving the house.

The conversation went on to end when you eventually realized you would be home late. Although you thought that worrying your husband a little would be the thing that reignited the spark in your marriage, you knew that punctuality was a habit you'd like to upkeep. That, and you also knew if you talked to this handsome stranger for longer, you'd cheat on your husband. That night, Leon had fallen asleep to the thought of you for the first time. Soft little visions of pressing his lips against yours, caressing your cheek softly and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, etc, etc, cheesy lovey dovey bullshit. So much more different than the truly filthy thoughts he had about you nowadays. You're torn from your conversation with your friends when you make eye contact with him. You can practically feel his eyes travel from the hair at the highest point on your head to the very last bit of your black, leathery heels with perfect pretty pearls embellished on the pump. For a moment, you feel like you're trapped in some type of horny labyrinth while you stare longingly at him.

He's ripped out of his own longing by the feeling of your husband's hand slapping his back. Ada sat beside Leon with her arm protectively wrapped around his bicep. You felt as if the gesture were a signal to everyone at the party that Leon belonged to her. He was under her control, nobody else's. Or maybe the protective message was for her husband, as if he was an unruly friend to her husband. And you could agree with that. You fell in love with your husband because he was wild and care-free but after the diamond ring was slipped onto your ring finger, you realized he was also carefree in the sense that hurt you: talking to other women behind your back, and leaving for days at a time only to come back inebriated. But you stood by his side, no matter what. You hated how you felt like a doormat but you didn't know what else to do besides stay married and play the role of an oblivious wife while your husband fucks other women in various positions. In a way, you and Leon sat in the same loveless boat. Who knew when that same boat would be shaking from the violence of the both of you fucking, clothing pulled out and to the side instead of being fully taken off. Your thoughts become interrupted by an unmistakably handsome voice.

"Hey."

You feel a hand being placed upon your lower back except it's so much more different than your husband's. The palms were rough, callouses inside the nooks and crannies, and pulsing veins make you all dizzy if you thought about it for too long. His voice was dampened with some undertone of lust, his fingers prodding into the skin of your sides. He's always been a little too handsy for a man that's supposed to happily married. But you always figured touch was how he communicates: touch. But he's never touchy with your husband. Or any of your friends. And he missed you? Sure, your're friends due to the fact your husband was friends with Leon. (Even though you met him first, but I digress.) The simple phrase had your mind reeling, cheeks flushed red due to the hidden intimacy of it all. His wife shoots him a look and his hand immediately retreats back to his side, fighting the urge to palm the engorged erection struggling against the seam of his boxers. "Haven't seen you in so long, hm? Thought you disappeared on me for a minute." He's holding his facade of being totally and irrevocably in love with Ada up and steady. Like he had no feelings for you other than being friends.

"Of course not." You murmur, feeling a hearty chuckle reverberate from his chest. He takes his index finger and his thumb and gently swiping it against your chin.

"Atta girl." And of course, with how hoarse his voice is, your panties are instantly puddled with a thick pool of arousal. You hate his stupid, thick, sexy, and deep voice. You especially hate his voice whenever you imagine him degrading and praising you whenever your husband was away and you just happened to have your hand down your underwear, playing with your clit to ease the throbbing impulses you felt for Leon. He gives your back a single pat before moving back to stand beside his wife. You really hate that you feel jealousy flare like wildfire within you, but you brush it off.

Everyone would eventually be drawn to the several dining tables that were arranged in a group and had golden candlesticks and smooth white tablecloths on top. Once you are seated, you observe that Leon appears to be striving extra hard to guarantee his place beside you. He looks right at you for a brief moment. And only then can you see, just a hint of thirst sprouting in his eyes, before he glances away from you and gives Ada a quick smile while patting her thigh.

It's only a few minutes before Leon decides to break the awkward silence.

"How's that modeling gig going?" You nod, gulping down way too much champagne.

"Good, been going good. Have to admit it gets a little boring posing in front of the camera after a while but can't bite the hand that pays you, right?" You joke, and the table laughs with some sense of jealousy. "Nice to hear. What was your latest shoot?" He asked, leaning forward in a sudden rush of intrigue. Then those words pass your lips. Words he had never anticipated, even in his wildest guess (oddly.)

"A lingerie shoot. For Chanel." The table goes quiet. And everyone, including your dumb-ass husband, look at you. Someone (Ada) clears their throat in the dining room, hinting at you to elaborate and it's almost like you suddenly developed to ability to hear from light years away.

Leon, who had just finally got his goddamn boner under control feels his cock twitch back to life, fully hard instead of a semi this time. And correct him if he's wrong, but he starts to feel pre-cum smearing his dress pants. He's thankful he chose the black slacks instead of his lighter colored ones otherwise this would be downright humiliating.

"Sorry, um...I did an intimates photo-shoot for Chanel a few weeks ago for their new line of clothing." That seems to help lighten the mood a lot more because everyone goes back to their conversation with their respective friends, the embarrassing "confession" from you immediately leaving their minds. "The theme was Overtime. Like, staying later in the office with my shirt unbuttoned and stuff. Nothing that interesting."

The table simultaneously nodded, Leon going as far to excuse himself for a cigarette.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go have a smoke." Leon scoots out from his seat, heading towards the upstairs balcony to take care of business. Asshole, leaving me with his mean ass wife.

You decide to join him outside.

The air had finally gotten too tense, felt too judgmental for your taste. Scampering outside, you're met with the sight of Leon smoking a cigarette outside. That's odd: you've usually pegged him to be the straight-laced, no-nonsense type of man yet here he was, smoking a cigarette while leaning against the balustrade of their friend's top floor home. At the sound of the balcony door opening, he turns his head to see what you're doing out here. His eyes scan you, almost like he would while he's in combat but it's more or less to get another glimpse of the outfit you were wearing tonight. Okay, and maybe he wanted to commit the sight of you to memory.

"You alright?" He asked, trying his best to look straight forward when you step closer and cross your arms over the balustrade.

"M'fine, just needed a minute of fresh air, I think." When you sit beside Leon, there's a few things you notice. The first was his outfit. A white button-up that usually would be covered by his black suit jacket, though he left it behind on his chair in the dining room. There's also mentioning his blacks slacks, fitting his muscular thighs a bit tight but loose enough so they're comfortable. Then there's the dress shoes, ones he wore at his wedding due to how overly formal they looked. Maybe he wanted to get some more use out of them? Who knows.

"What about you? Why are you out here?" You decided to be the one to take the reigns since the air outside had become incredibly awkward as well. "Same. Thought I'd take a minute of fresh air, you know?" The second thing you notice about Leon is how much he calms you. More importantly, how much you never noticed that you were anxious when you were around others. He had this aura of relaxing or maybe you were just buzzed, who knows that either? Maybe it's the cigarette, speaking of...

"I haven't smoked since college. Cigarettes, I mean. Don't think I even know how to do it anymore." The confession makes his head tilt to the side, now taking more of an interest in the conversation than before. He grinned wolfishly, taking your chin in one of his thick and strong hands and pulling your head forward. For a second, you could almost be dumb enough to think he'd be moving in for a kiss. Of course not. You'd never be that lucky. "Open f'me, sweetheart." And like an obedient puppy, you opened your mouth just enough so your pretty pink-shaded lips could be parted. He placed the cigarette on your lip, the moisture making the filter stay in your mouth alongside his index and middle finger holding it up, thumb brushing your chin. Little hazes of grey smoke dance along your tongue without even taking a sip of the smoke yet, your lips trembling with a lustful agony. "Now close your mouth..." He whispered, his damp and hot and horny breath hitting your ear like an affectionate declaration of love. "And inhale."

You close your lips around the cigarette, faintly tasting the flavor of him where he had sucked on the cigarette. You got notes of citrus, rum or some expensive, top-shelf label of whiskey he used to help quell the pain he experienced on grueling missions, tobacco, and maybe even the slightest hint of his wife's lipstick. Chanel's Rogue Allure, if you had to guess correctly. "...Now hold it..."

You held it. "Silly girl." He whispered, pulling the cigarette away from your lips while you slowly exhaled the rest of the smoke you've been holding in your mouth and then some. You can't tell if it's because of the alcohol, Leon's presence, or your mere anxiety but you begin to feel dizzy. Thankfully Leon seems to swoop in with his questions to keep your head in the game. Bless him.

"Why'd you need a minute, huh?"

For a minute there, you didn't know how to respond. Looking down at the leathery pumps you chose for the evening, you begin to wonder why you even chose them instead of answering his question. But you answered him. Eventually.

"I'm just tired. This whole night just seems a bit…” You gesture to the party in the background. “Fake. I don’t want to be here."

He hummed in agreement, but it felt like more of a signal for you to keep going. "I'm also just terrible at making conversation. Especially when it's awkward and silent."

His eyes flicker down to the pumps he'd already stared at tonight, not finding an interest in them anymore than your own body. He tucked his lip between his teeth, pulling the pink flesh away from his mouth before he spoke up again. "You're not that bad, you know? I think you're pretty good. How about this?" He pauses. Then a beat passes.

"Tell me something true. Tell me something you wouldn't brag to anyone about." He moved his cigarette to rest on the balustrade instead of the space between his fingers. "Something that's yours...and only yours."

You look at Leon with wide eyes, mouth agape as you struggle to answer his question. Your eyes rake down his face from the space between his eyebrows to his parted, pink lips: just a little chapped from the cold chill of the night air. You wanted to kiss him. All of those times you've had him over for dinner, all of those times you've spent with your hand down your panties while your husband was away on "business": dreaming of his best friend, Leon, and god, all of those times you thought about throwing caution to the wind and leaning in to press your lips against his: the sum of all of those moments had you quivering for more.

But you'd never cheat. You have a reputation. You have a husband that gifted you the pretty diamond ring on your finger. But how did it always feel so...impossible? Like you couldn't live another day if you weren't able to fuck Leon like a rabid dog in heat. But he was staring at you, almost as if his eyes were laser beams and searing holes into your skin: you had to answer.

"I don't know what I could tell you that's only mine." You chew on your lip. "Huh. How about..."

How about the fact I wanna kiss you? I wish it was you I was in bed with rather than my stupid, cheating husband? The fact you are so much hotter than him?

"I hate being a trophy." And that brings the biggest grin on Leon's face. A massive shit-eating grin. Leon had gone stir crazy. He wanted to peel your entire being open, see all of the nooks and crannies of your soul and devour it whole. But now wasn't the time to scare you away: even if he wanted to fuck you, you were still a friend to him. So he calmed down. "I can't say that's too surprising. I mean, who would? Being able to be pretty and have money being tossed at you is nice until you want something deeper. Then it seems like one of the only things that are scarce in your life."

You nod, letting out a breath of consolation. "That's exactly how I feel. Like my only purpose is to sit still, look pretty, serve my husband, and be a hole when he needs it."

His eyes become downcast, looking down at the garden on the ground level of the restaurant. "I get what you mean." The moment was interrupted by a waiter peeking out on the two of you: head poked outside of the door that lead to the outside area. He pulls his hand away from your soft skin and back to his side, sighing wistfully that tonight wouldn't be the night he gets to act on his desires for you. Damn it all to hell.

"You should head back. I'll be back, yeah?" You nod and within a few seconds, you've returned to your spot at the dinner table. He sighs, hand slipping down to palm at his erection. Fuck. Can't go back like this.

Just resist. You're just another woman. You have a husband, He thinks to himself, I'm married to a lovely woman. I am a faithful husband. The silent mantra he practices on himself works about as well as a band-aid on a bullet hole. Resist. God, but you looked so pretty tonight. That cute jewelry set you wore with your little black dress? Hot. The smoothness of your skin?

Resist.

But he can't stop picturing you on your knees in front of him, sucking on his cock. The sounds your perfect, wet mouth would make. How he'd ease himself down your throat. How you'd whine.

Resist.

Or how about when he could be fucking his cock into your tight, wet, and warm cunt? The tip of his dick kissing your cervix? Or what about the positions he could force your body into? Like having his arm around your throat, bicep curling into your mouth to muffle your moans from his wife hearing? Or how one of his hands would be gripping your hips while he needily plowed into your pussy, while you begged him to let up. Resist.

Resist.

Fuck it.

In the few moments after he's excused himself from you, he's already rushing to the upstairs bathroom of the restaurant: thanking the holy beings above for making it a single stall bathroom for his jerking pleasure. He hastily unbuckles his belt with one hand, other hand impulsively opening Twitter as a first resort to find some fashion fanatic post about the slutty lingerie photo-shoot you did for Chanel. Alas, you're still a bit of an undiscovered goddess in the modeling industry at the moment: so Google is his next best option. He pulls out his half-hard but hardening cock from his jeans before he can even find your photo-shoot and gives it a quick few pumps to ease the throbbing that's starting to build up in his loins. Eventually, he finds it. Thank fucking god because the creativity for his fantasies are beginning to run quite dry. And instantly he's grunting and groaning while he strokes his cock and scrolls through the multiple scandalous photos the photographers took of you.

"Fuck." He winces in pleasurable agony as he stares at quite possibly his favorite photo of you. The photo was in black and white: theme being "Overtime" like you mentioned. The white button up shirt was undone, revealing you had nothing on underneath, and allowed for the side of your perfect breasts to be revealed. If he squinted just a little harder, he could see your puffy nipples threatening to peek out of the shirt. He tried squinting a little harder to see your nipples a little easier. And oh my god. You have piercings?! He almost shot his entire load on the spot. God, he needed to fuck you. And hard. He groans as he feel himself get closer to orgasm. Closer, and closer, until--

"Leon?"

Fuck. It was you. God, of course you're so goddamn sweet, checking up on him to make sure he's okay. He didn't dare stop stroking himself off, especially not when he's got jerk-worthy material of you almost catching him. That's also not mentioning the soft intonations of your almost innocent voice right there. He's trying not to cum too quick, wanting to savor those images for as long as he could but he also realized his wife might start asking some questions and she wouldn't be on the other side of the door if she came upstairs. "F-fuck, yeah?" He responded after much too long of hearing your sweet voice. "Did you need something?" "Are you okay? I just got worried when you left. You've been gone for like..." You check your wristwatch: a classic and dainty Timex from the 80s with a blank band that wrapped around your wrist snugly.

"Fifteen minutes. Do you need water? Ibuprofen?" He shakes his head as if you could see him while he continues to jerk himself off, hand swirling in a sort of cranking motion as he tries to work his cock to orgasm. But his pre-cum isn't coming out fast enough, not as fast as the pumping motions his hand was doing right now, so he spits in his hand before bringing his palm back down to his cock and lathering his dick in spit. You believe him enough to think he might be getting ready to vomit.

"Nah, jus'...ngh, drank too much, I think." Please keep talking, He selfishly thinks to himself. "Oh, okay. Well, if you need anything, just text me?" He nodded, grunting out a thank you while he continues to dream of ruthlessly fucking you until you're embedded into his mattress. He wants you. He needs you. He feels himself get a little closer until he finally releases into his fist. His hot and sticky cum ran down his palm while the waves of post-orgasmic bliss and post-nut clarity simultaneously moved together as one. For a few minutes, he's panting like a rabid dog in heat until his breath eventually stills and he's able to walk downstairs and look his wife in the face while giving her the impression that he definitely didn't just masturbate to his best friend's wife. When he sits down at the table, the first person he makes eye contact with is you. You smile at him, mouthing a "you okay?" because, of course, you're still worried about him being sick. He nods with a grin peeled onto his face. Because he came to the sound of your voice. And you didn't have a fucking clue.

credits: snoopy divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more heart divider by @saradika-graphics

[licorice-tea]

Don’t Fall In Love With Me (Yet) Pt. 2

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: mentions of fights/canon typical violence and weapons, sooo much pining, can be read as a stand alone or as part of the mini series, allies to friends to lovers (soon!?), etc!

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: hmmm where do i start? i changed the pov from third to second person, (the first part was third person) the writing style of this is a little different from what i usually do but i still like it so hopefully you do to! pls enjoy and ty for reading <333

edited 1/8/24

Part 1 | Part 3

Law finds y/n leaning on the starboard railing of the Thousand Sunny.

You feel Law’s steps on the wooden planks and look over your shoulder to see him approaching. you swear you can hear your own heartbeat, and only hope that he won’t be able to hear it, too. Your thoughts are interrupted by his presence to your left. Law leans over the railing, mug of coffee in hand. A moment of silence passes while he watches you watch the sea from the corner of his eye.

“Can you even see anything?” he questions, his words coming off much harsher than intended,

A bit caught off guard, you simply respond, “Mhm, everything.” you have good vision, so you’re sort of the natural choice for keeping watch if Zoro doesn’t feel like staying up.

You can feel Law’s gaze on your profile. You can also feel your cheeks heating up, but those two things are completely independent… It doesn’t even matter though, because the darkness of the night should be enough to hide that from him.

“Are you having a good time on board the Thousand Sunny?” 

“It’s alright. You guys are really loud.” He says in a near scoff.

“Oh… Sorry about that.” Did you really bother him so much?

Law mentally kicks himself and is quick to wave a hand in front of his face apologetically, “No, I just mean… you’re all very energetic. Not you specifically, either. You’re actually really, uh…”

You wait patiently, now peering up at him through your lashes. He meets your eyes with his own, much more frantic gaze.

“You’re… nice.” He finally averts his eyes with a turn of cheek.

“Oh… thank you.” You smile to yourself. “I think you’re really nice, too.”

Law releases another scoff, though it comes off as more surprised than mean. He struggles with accurately portraying his feelings for you, who remains equally oblivious to his feelings as he does to yours. “You must be thinking of someone else.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m not known for being nice.”

“People must not really know you, then.”

“And you do?”

“Not as much as I’d like to, but well enough.”

“… What?” He finds that you make him feel dumb sometimes, be it through quick rebuttals or patient stares.

“I just mean, we could be friends. But I understand if you don’t-“

“I do.”

“… Ok.” You grin once more.

The pair stare out to sea, and Law takes another sip of his coffee.

“How come I never see you in fights with your crew?”

“I try to stay out of the way. Plus, I don’t really like fighting in the first place- that’s not why I joined my crew. It’s more of a last resort.”

“Interesting.”

“You think so?”

“That you would rather play support than have to get into a fight? Definitely. It’s not very pirate-like.” He nearly sneers- he has certain beliefs on what a pirate should be in order to be of use to their crew.

But, ever the optimist, you simply laugh, “So I’ve been told,” you start. “I guess I’m a little… strict about my morals. Just never really want to hurt someone, you know? Even if it makes people think I’m weak, because I know I’m not.”

“At least you’re self aware.” Law begins, but for some unknown reason feels compelled to continue. To give you some little piece of himself in return for what you’ve told him. However, after he tells you, “I don’t enjoy fighting much either, I just do it to protect my crew.” he feels like he’s talking too much.

You listen intently, “And do you have a family? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He shakes his head no, “Gone.”

You nod solemnly. “Well, I’m sure they’d be proud of you.”

“Have you… lost someone?” Law immediately regrets asking such a personal question.

But, you aren't offended. “No, I’ve been lucky in that way. Though we aren’t really… We don’t… Well, we’re not close.”

“Why’s that?” he mimics your earlier question, which you pick up on and smirk at.

So you sigh; “I guess the whole running-away-with-a-pirate crew thing kind of soiled their opinion of me.”

Your eyes meet again after your confession, and after a moment of silence, you both break out in laughter. Except, Law’s is more of just the shake of his shoulders, while you actually laugh.

“It’s not funny-” Law says through broken exhales.

“No, it’s really not!” you shake your head, still caught in a fit of giggles.

Eventually you both still yourselves, and Law concentrates on his half empty mug while you look up at the stars above head. Then you look at him from the corner of their eye, just for a split second, but find his eyes are already trained on you. So you offer a smile, like always, and go back to star gazing. Another moment passes, and your enjoyment of conversation gets the best of you.

“What’s it like living in a submarine?” Law raises a brow and gives a sidelong glance at your question. “Don’t you miss land and the sky when you’re down there?”

“Yeah. I miss land sometimes, I guess.”

You explore the answer to your question further by standing up on the ledge before you, and leaning over the railing to look down into the waves being split by the Thousand Sunny. It’s not a particularly dangerous stunt at all- there’s the floor, a 3 inch raised ledge, and the railing on top of it. When you stand on it, your height is barely altered; that’s how non perilous what you are doing is, for context. You simply want to lean over to see the waves.

But Law’s hand shoots out to grasp your shoulder, acting as a tether. You look at him with a concerned expression, which turns into a smirk. You could stay up there, maybe even turn and lift yourself slightly to sit on the railing itself, but you decide to come back down to the floor on your heels instead of giving the surgeon something else to stress over. Law then pulls his hand back rigidly and scratches the back of his neck with near painful awkwardness due to his sudden display of concern for your safety.

“I don’t think I could trip all the way over the railing unless I tried.” You tease.

“No, I- I know.” he coughs. Did he really just stutter?

“See? You are nice. You care.” you punctuate your statement with a smirk and the side to side tilt of their head. An occasional habit that, if someone were around you often enough to witness, they would know signified a feeling of triumph.

Law is at a loss for words at the moment, thoughts clouded by the growing warmth in his chest that seems to fluctuate up and down his neck and face, but never disappears completely when he’s around you.

“Sure.” he takes to mumbling again.

“You know, I really like having you here with us.”

“…You do?”

“Yeah. I love the other Straw Hats of course, but… I don’t know, you’re different.”

“You’re different from my crew, too.”

“Oh yeah? In a good way, I hope.”

Law shrugs, “Yeah.” He pauses, then mutters something under his breath. “In a good way.”

You’d blurt out your feelings here and now, if it were anyone else. But this is Law, and you kind of like him a lot, so you want to do things right. Besides, that would probably only scare him away- he seems like the kind of man who carefully works his way up to a relationship. With a friendly smile, you accept his statement. Because now that you know he considers you a friend at the very least, and more than likely shares your affections… you’re in no rush.

The night goes by quickly in his company, and soon enough you spot the golden rays of the sun peaking over the horizon.

“We should do this again sometime,” you tell him as the sun starts to climb higher into the sky (quicker than you’d like), “I had fun talking to you.”

Law nods, “Just let me know when you’re keeping watch,” he waves over his shoulder as he walks away, “I’ll be there.”

And when he makes it back to the privacy of his room, Law replays the night in his head. Over and over and over again, until he comes to a not-so-shocking conclusion. “Shit:”

“I’m falling for y/n.”

[soov-archived]

H𝗘𝗘S𝗘𝗨NG 𝗔S Y𝗢𝗨R PR𝗢GR𝗔MM𝗘R BF!

✶ : 0.7k, hcs, programmer!heeseung & gn!reader, fluff, established relationship. ⚠ : kissing, pet names (babe), cuddling, mentions of food, ‘calling’ someone poopy pants (??). ੭ : i needed a break from programming for three hours straight <'3

heeseung lets you sit on his lap while he reads and writes codes. he caresses your head softly with a hand, the other skillfully editing the symbols and functions. occasionally, he spins his chair to take a break, looping his arms around your waist. his lips travel from your shoulder to your neck, jaw, cheeks, and then lips, humming tiredly in satisfaction against them.

because he spends a lot of time in front of his bright computer screen, his eyesight eventually got bad. after visiting the eye doctor, he listened to your suggestions and got a new pair of round glasses. now, whenever you push up the frame that falls to the tip of his nose he smiles shyly, a crimson tint coating his ears. his doe eyes avert from yours and his fingers press the right button of his mouse repeatedly. heeseung also knows that he should call it a day when you carefully take them off his face.

hee only knows bits of html and css, but if you're watching a boring online class he will appear by your side and snatch your laptop from your hands, laughing maniacally. despite your protests, he's already opening the inspect window to change your teacher's name to something dumb like “poopy pants”. he modifies the whole call — from your classmates’ questions in the chat (that now are quoting a random meme) to the class name (which, at the moment, is named “heestory”).

he does the most stupidly cheesy things for you and he's not ashamed at all.

heeseung once created a python program in five minutes and yelled “babe, come see what i did!” from his room. you thought he'd show you a complex project, but it was just a white page with “how much % of the day do you think about lee heeseung?” written in the middle.

you tried typing out numbers smaller than 10 to joke around with him, only for a message to pop up:

really? :( he thinks about you every moment of his day!

heeseung gazed up at you sadly from his chair as you tried writing bigger numbers — but none of them made the warning disappear. only when you wrote an obnoxiously big number that a new message came on

:D he thinks about you this much, too! congrats, you got an unlimited free pass to get as many kisses and cuddles as you want!

unfortunately, you didn't get to even read it when your boyfriend tackled you in the bed, tickling your sides and murmuring in faux anger that you were an annoying little brat for teasing him.

if you didn't know, you don't need a powerful computer or laptop to start programming. however, heeseung has a HUGE, modern setup, and being his partner means that you'll get one too. no matter if you use it every day or once in a blue moon, he's ready to spend all his money on a setup as big as his. do you want led lights? you got it. a new cooler? consider it done. a new computer monitor as long as your wall was released? it'll be by your doorstep tomorrow morning.

being his partner also means having to listen to his late-night complaints when a project of his doesn't go as planned. ask him how was his day and you'll get a sulky heeseung holding you close to his chest, ranting your ear off about how the program didn't execute half the commands. he'll pinch you or flick your forehead playfully if you laugh at him, not understanding a thing of what he's saying.

heeseung also uses the lamest technology pick-up lines with you. he prefers using ones that he knows you'll understand instead of choosing ones about the programming languages he uses. expect him to randomly ask you things like “are you wi-fi? ‘cause i'm feeling a connection between us!”, and push a side of his glasses down, winking at you.

last but not least, if you want to learn how to program, he'll immediately clean up his schedule a certain day of the week and teach you himself. heeseung will buy snacks, get fresh bottles of water, and put your chair as closer to his as possible, explaining every function and command with the uttermost love and patience in the world.

⠀ ⠀ © soov, 2O22.

[selfindulgentpixies]

Part one

Okay here's part two for my Suguru x reader fic i did earlier. It's going to evolve into a Satoru x reader x Suguru fic. This one admittedly has ended up feeling very uh meandering I guess? I'm trying to establish the dynamic between the three of them

Important notes: GN!reader, reader is referred to with chan attached to their name, reader is a year younger than Suguru and Satoru. Suguru and Satoru are absolute menaces. Reader's cursed technique is mentioned. Said CT involves absorbing curses through their hands and converting them into weapons though it's not super important to to this chapter.

Fun fact: the japanese school year apparently begins in in april! So this takes place a bit before hidden inventory shortly after Suguru and Satoru start their second year.

Edit: I've made some revisions to this chapter to bring it up to my current standards! Nothing big just things that make it flow better and some extra details.

Chapter 2: Movie night

Things are different after the mission with Geto, he's softer with you than he’d been in the past. Before the mission he'd almost seemed a little resentful of you behind his smile though you couldn't figure out why. It didn't feel like that now. You aren't dumb, you can pinpoint the moment things felt like they'd begun to shift with him. When he'd held your arm after you absorbed that curse, the way his eyes had looked over darkly bruising flesh with the ink black lines crawling up your arm like an infection. When he'd asked if it was always like this you thought you'd find pity in his dark gaze when you raised your eyes to his, instead you saw something you weren't expecting. Understanding.

You were admittedly thrown off balance by this, plastering what you hoped was a reassuring smile on your face as you answered him. You doubted you fooled his keen eyes as you tried to disguise your discomfort but he didn't push you or even ask if it hurt. Probably because he thought the question would be pointless. Only an idiot wouldn't have been able to see you were in pain. Instead he'd gently examined the limb, his fingers sliding over your arm before letting go when he was satisfied.

He'd also begun going out of his way since that day to help you train as well, though you're not sure how much getting tossed around the training field like a rag doll is helping you. You've gotten very good at breaking your falls. You can at least say that. He said you were improving but you're not sure how true that is, though it probably should have tipped you off he was being honest when Gojo who was sitting on the sidelines more often than not to watch didn't interject to say otherwise. Especially since he was more than willing to point out where you had messed up. Perhaps you just hadn't known them long enough to realize that Geto was soft for you and Gojo was becoming so in turn. Again it's kind of hard to realize someone is soft for you when they regularly send you flying like you weigh nothing. Both older boys could appreciate that you kept dusting yourself off and getting right back to it though. 

These last few weeks play back in your mind on repeat. Especially how gently he'd held your arm on that mission and the look in his eyes. You're broken from these thoughts when you notice the three second years making their way back to the dorms, Shoko splitting off from the boys presumably to head toward her own dorm. Probably to get cleaned up after a mission if you had to guess. You watch Geto and Gojo, watch as their hands brush against each other as they walk. They start to lean in close to each other and you watch as Gojo brushes his lips over Geto’s ear. You’ve apparently been caught staring though as suddenly Gojo is unmistakably looking directly at you as you noisily watch the intimate moment playing out between the older boys. Gojo’s sudden shift in attention of course causes Geto to look toward your window as well.

You let out a squeak and instead of maybe rolling with it and just waving or something to make yourself not seem nosy you flail and pull your curtain closed. "Stupid stupid stupid,” you grumble to yourself feeling your ears burn.

Down below you don’t see the two older boys share knowing and amused grins. You’re also far too consumed by your own embarrassment at having been caught staring at their intimate moment to hear their laughter as you internally berate yourself.

You also don't hear the ensuing conversation.

You get maybe a half hour of peace after that, able to mostly stop cringing at yourself and get back to studying. The peace is shattered when there's a knock on your door. You jolt in your seat, taken off guard since you hadn't expected anyone to stop by your room this late in the day. You turn in your chair and give the door a questioning look, unsure if you want to be bothered. Then he speaks. "Oi, ___-chan, come on don't ignore me." It's Gojo. All your embarrassment at being caught staring earlier floods back.

Reluctantly you get up and open your door a little to stare up at the older boy. He's got his arms full of snacks and he's grinning down at you, eyes obscured by those dark glasses he always wears. "I was almost worried you went to bed early. Come on, we don't want to keep the others waiting."

If an expression could be a question mark that's what your face was now. "Who's waiting and why?"

"You'll see it's a surprise~" he sing songs.

"Senpai, I" You're cut off when he adjusts his hold on the snacks and reaches out to grab your arm, tugging you out of your room since you were apparently taking too long to convince.

You flail, taken off balance and your voice involuntarily raises an octave "Gojo-senpai i-i'm not dressed to go anywhere i'm in my pajamas!"

"Pajamas are perfect for this, don't worry about it." He ignores your sputtering and goes to close your door.

"At least let me grab my phone." You huff.

He glances down at you with a triumphant smile knowing he's gotten his way. He opens your door fully and gestures with a flourish for you to go ahead. You contemplate slamming the door behind you but felt wrong being so disrespectful to an upperclassman, especially as your mind so helpfully reminded you of how you'd been caught rudely staring at him and Geto-senpai only half an hour ago.

You follow Gojo closely, having to take three steps for every one of his. "So you're really not gonna tell me?"

"Stop being impatient, you'll literally see the surprise in less than two minutes."

You pout but go quiet.

He wasn't wrong, soon enough you're standing in front of another dorm room. "Suguru, Shoko, I got the snacks and grabbed ___ along the way. "

You blink a little owlishly, realizing the dorm room you're at is likely Geto's. It's neat, at least by teenage boy standards. There's a biggish bean bag couch set up at the end of the bed facing a tv that's been set up with what looks like a shiny new dvd player along with several stacks of dvd's. Shoko and Geto are both by an open window, blowing smoke outside.

Shoko smiles warmly. "Ahh glad you could make it, ___-chan. When they told me they were inviting you too I wasn't sure you'd actually come."

You glance away for a moment and play with the hem of your sleep shirt. "Gojo-senpai was very... insistent." 

Geto laughs lowly. "Satoru always is once he's decided something."

Your eyes are drawn toward the dark haired boy as he stubs out his cigarette and tosses it into the ashtray. He's smiling at you, his head tilted to the side. You can't help but take in how his hair is down and wet, clinging to his neck. It makes your mouth feel dry in a way you're not really familiar with. Gojo nudges you into the room before going to set out the snacks.

For some reason the idea that your three senpai had decided to invite you to their movie night left you feeling intimidated. "Is uh... anyone else gonna show up?" you ask hoping you don't sound nervous. "Nope-” Gojo pops the ‘P’, ”just the four of us," he throws over his shoulder at you as he continues his task. Your stomach swoops a little. At least Shoko is here otherwise you're pretty sure you would have run away. Being alone in such a casual setting with Gojo and Geto would have been overwhelming right now.

You finally move to go sit on the far end of the beanbag couch only to be jerked toward the middle of it by Gojo as he sits on your left, before you can protest or move back Geto sits on the right side of you, effectively trapping you between the two of them unless you wanted to outright get up and find a different spot to sit, though your options would be the literal floor or Geto's bed since Shoko seems to have claimed Geto's desk chair.

Shoko catches you looking her way and she eyes her peers suspiciously. "___, we can switch places if you'd like." She states already starting to stand. You scoot just slightly forward ready to accept only to feel a strong hand pull back on your shoulder and then feel Suguru's arm pressing along the back of your shoulder's once you've been pulled back to sit snugly in the honestly too small bean bag couch with the two long limbed boys.

"Aww they're fine right here aren't you, ___?" Geto asks as he tilts his head at you, a smile curling his lips and pretty brown eyes turning into crescents.

You're pretty sure your brain is as fried as it could ever be in that moment only for it to get even worse when Gojo's arm presses against Geto's and he too somehow manages to get further into your personal space. "Yeah this is the best place to watch movies from," Gojo's breath  fans over your ear and you swear you can feel the barest hint of his lips brush the skin there.

Your face is so hot that you're surprised you haven't burst into flames and your heart is so rabbit quick you’re wondering how it hasn’t burst out of your chest. You’ve never been subjected to attention like this before. Especially not by a pair of pretty boys like your senpai.

Shoko breaks the moment by tossing two precisely aimed pillows into the faces of the two biggest menaces she knows. "If the two of you don't stop that I'll take ___-chan with me and go have a movie night just the two of us." There’s a clear threat in her voice and they know she means it.

Both boys sputter at the pillows in their faces before grumbling. Geto tosses his on the ground while Gojo holds his on his lap with a pout, he then sticks his tongue out at her. "You're no fun."

"And you're going to send ___ running if you keep it up," She shoots back and goes over to the dvd player to pick a movie. Neither Gojo nor Geto had taken the time to put one in, more focused on getting you trapped between them.

After selecting a movie and putting it in she glances back at you. "So would you like to trade seats?" You keep your eyes firmly on her but you can swear you can feel the two boys looking at you. You don't fully trust your voice but squeak out a small reply anyway. "Y-yeah actually." there was no way you were gonna be able to focus on the movie if they kept doing whatever it was they were doing. You feel Geto squeeze your shoulder briefly before letting go and both boys scoot slightly to allow you the minimal space needed to get up from the squishy death trap that is the bean bag couch. Shoko ends up helping you up before plopping herself in between menace one and two who are both definitely pouting.

The desk chair gives you the space needed to get your bearings for the first time since Gojo showed up at your door. Was this all some weird game to get back at you for staring at them from your window? As the movie plays you're sure you can feel them glancing your way but try to ignore it. Ignore it until Gojo tosses a candy bar directly into your lap startling you during a tense scene and making you squeak. When you realize what had touched you was a candy bar and not a serial killer you look over toward the three on the couch to catch Gojo flashing a grin your way. Geto reaches over shoko to playfully shove his shoulder.

Even now in the mostly dark room you can see it's your favorite. Which probably isn't that strange given that you normally eat one after training with Geto, and since one boy was never far from the other Gojo probably just picked up on it. That or it's all coincidence and your nerves from the evening thus far are making you over analyze a chocolate bar.

You're not sure when you dozed off in the uncomfortable chair but when you're woken up it's by Gojo poking you in the cheek and there are credits rolling on screen. He goes to poke your cheek again but you pull back with a slurred " 'm awake..." You blink blearily at the room, trying to get your brain to catch up with the situation. Gojo pokes you again deliberately on the nose this time. Without thinking and with sleepy irritation overriding all good sense you bite at him, surprising you both when you actually manage to catch his finger.

You immediately release his finger that now has a neat little ring of your teeth dented into it.

"You bit me! What the hell!?"

Embarrassed you yell back, "I only bit you because you kept shoving your finger in my face!"

Distantly through your embarrassment you register Geto laughing at the two of you. Honestly more at Gojo than you though you don’t realize that.

"Will you all shut up," an angry lump on the beanbag couch growls out. You realize it's Shoko. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Ah but Shoko, if you want to sleep you can go back to your own room. Satoru and I aren't going to bed for a while yet." Geto's tone is light as he sits up more in bed, drawing your gaze. From what you can gather it seems both he and Gojo must have moved to the bed at some point during the movie.

 It's while you're occupied with this thought that the white haired menace grabs both arms of the chair you're sitting in. You blink. "Wha-" He spins the chair and you let out a little yell. When he finally stops the chair you slide out of it dazed. The world is still spinning a little. "W-what was that for..?"

"For biting me of course."

"Satoru, don't pick on them too much, you were asking for a reaction poking them like that," Geto admonishes him, though even dazed as you are you can hear the amusement in his voice.

There's an annoyed grunt from the beanbag couch and the lump that is Shoko wrapped in a blanket stands up and heads for the door after tossing the blanket over Gojo. "Guess I will go back to my own room if the three of you can't be quiet."

From your spot you wonder what you did to get lumped in with the two of them.

Gojo pulls the blanket off his head and sticks his tongue out at Geto. "Yeah yeah." Standing he grabs your arm unprompted to pull you off the floor and you stumble into him because the world is still spinning a little from how fast he spun the chair.

You push most of the way off his chest in embarrassment though your hands remain to keep you steady as the world slows back down. You look up at him from beneath your lashes with an unintentional pout and mumble out an apology.

"Oh and what are you sorry for?" He tilts his head to the side and it suddenly strikes you that in the mostly dark room he'd removed his glasses. The full force of his pretty eyes focused directly on you. That is until Geto Speaks up. "That's enough teasing, Satoru." He sits up fully in the bed crossing his legs as he turns his full attention to you.

Geto blessedly gives you an out. "___-chan, do you want to stay with us and watch another movie or do you think you're done?" Honestly you think you could hug him for giving you a clear choice. The thought makes your cheeks flush.

"uh... I should probably go back to my room, it's late yeah? I have to be up early to train." Your hands drop from Gojo's chest now that the world has stopped spinning.

The raven haired boy nods. "I'll walk you back to your room then."

"You don't gotta do that, senpai, i don't even have to go outside."

"I know, but I want to." He smiles at you so prettily. 

Geto is bounced on the bed when Gojo flops down on the mattress.

You shift a little looking between the two of them for a moment. "Alright then.." your hand comes up to rub the back of your neck.

With that Geto is out of bed and walking you through the short halls to your room.

"Thanks for inviting me to watch movies with you guys tonight, or was that just Gojo-senpai?"

He hums. "No we both wanted you to join."

"Can I ask why?"

"What do you mean why?" He raises an eyebrow as he peers down at you. "We like your company, that's reason enough." You were skeptical and your expression must have told him as much as he sighs. "Do you think I spend my time between missions and classes training someone whose company I don't like? And do you think Satoru would stick around to add input if he didn't? Our time is too valuable for that."

"O-oh," you utter lamely before swallowing and speaking again. "Well, thank you, Geto-senpai." You weren't exactly used to people wanting your company. Before Jujutsu tech you were often viewed as being strange by your peers.

He messes up your hair. "Ack!" and when you glance up at him even while his hand is still on your head the smile he's giving you makes your heart thunder in your chest.

"You should call me Suguru."

"Isn't that a bit rude though? You're older than me and-"

"It's not rude if I've told you you can."

You're quiet for a moment as you reach your dorm room. He lets you be, giving you time to process your conversation. He leans against the wall by your door. "Well uh.. thank you again Ge- Suguru-senpai. It was nice at least until I fell asleep." You rock back on your heels before opening your bedroom door.

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow then for training?"

You nod eagerly. "Yeah I'll see you then. Goodnight." You give him a little wave.

He bids you goodnight as well and goes to return to his room, likely to watch more movies with Gojo if you had to guess. After carefully closing the door you take a deep breath before throwing yourself onto your bed to squeal into your pillow and flail your legs to get out all your feelings from the night, especially the exchange you'd just had with Suguru.

__

Back in Suguru's room you miss when he sits in the desk chair Gojo had aggressively spun you in earlier and how it breaks dramatically beneath him. What you don’t  miss is Gojo's cackling in the hall and the sounds of thudding footsteps outside your room as Suguru chases him. When you peek out your door into the hall to see what's going on they're already long gone.

AHHHH part 2 is officially finished! I hope everyone enjoys it. This is the longest thing i've written i a long while. Keep an eye out for part 3. Upcoming parts will have spoilers for season 2 and the manga.

Tag list! @icy-spicy @strawberrystepmom @nanamikentoseyebags @gojoest

Please let me know if you like it! I put a lot of work into this so far.

Part 3

[colemckenzies]

Groundhog Day Musical, West End 2023

after six years i finally saw my favourite musical of all time in person 🥰🥰 so here is my write up of the staging, lyric changes, general commentary etc.

it's worth noting that i imagine the staging is more similar to its original west end run than the broadway version, but i didn't see it back then and couldn't find any footage so I'll just be comparing to the broadway ver. it will also all be based off of the One west end performance i saw and One broadway performance that was filmed cus yk live theatre and all that. i'm also only one person so this def won't be comprehensive. if there's anything you particularly want to know that i haven't mentioned please ask!!

for major overarching changes, there was no turntable which significantly affected the staging, especially for songs like night will come. it's also a much smaller space and much more condensed cast than on broadway.

anyway without further ado lets go woodchuck chuckers 😎 in chronological order

the opening video is completely changed. rather than showing phil interacting w his producer, it just shows his forecast segment in full. he explains more about what groundhog day is as a holiday and that this is his fourth year attending. also includes the line 'we can't all have good weather because we're not all good people'. banner along the bottom read 'up next music: white wine in the snow' as a little tim minchin ref :)

only one person sang the 'i was born on a punxutawney dawn' opening section of there will be sun, pretty sure it was buster. lot of solos for the rest of the song as well but not specific townspeople i think

everyone came out of the mist as in broadway version, but everyone was dressed in the top hat costume. they stood a line across the stage and took a group selfie w a selfie stick

phil turns off the radio after 'that's right woodchuck chuckers, it's groundhog day' so there's none of the subsequent lyrics/banter. i'm also 90% sure the radio recording was from the soundtrack

FIRST LYRIC CHANGE. there's an extra line in day one that goes 'their dumb superstitions and vacuous chat, their total unawareness of the fact their trapped, perhaps you don't miss it if you don't know you lack it, I'm sure there was a pack of xanax in this jacket' (EDIT - thank you for the correction @jackhkeynes )

^not a huge fan of this change tbh but only bc the original rhythm is one of my favourite parts of the song.

there's no hallway in the b&b, the kitchen set is the back end of the bedroom set. this means jonathan is downstairs the kitchen rather than meeting phil in the hallway, so the scene ends up as him, phil, and mrs lancaster. the tourist couple do not come in (or exist), mrs lancaster says the popsicle line.

there's a couple of extra new jokes in the dialogue. lmk if you want to know specifics lol

since mrs lancaster comes straight into this scene they skip the 'think i'll lose it all together' little bit of music

all the dancers are part of the marching band and they all join for the selfie with phil

phil getting hit in the head by the groundhog guy is because the hot dog guy (here played by one of the newsies i saw LOL) yells 'GO PHIL!!!' every time so the groundhog turns around to wave

buster uses an alt melody for his announcement - 'prognostication' goes down rather than up for the last note

they get punxsy phil out on the 'this brown log' line, so they skip the 'the finest specimen you will find' section

nancy sings the 'kinda both but not quite either' line over buster, which i actually really like because she does it in this really peppy cheerleader :DDD way that adds to her being a Prop. she even has pompoms.

wilbur in this version is sooooo good he's a lot more physical and really leans into his megaphone

when phil comes back from the blizzard rita seems a lot more genuinely concerned about him than just laughing

she accidentally orders her drink with a 'tryst' before 'kiss' and finally 'twist'

NEW LYRICS in day two - since there's no radio chatter in this version, after 'how many days is this holiday?' phil sings '[something] clearly failed to mention the owner showing signs of early onset dementia, one groundhog day is surely more than enough, even hicks must get sick of this stuff'

rest of the song continues as normal, again rita seems more concerned about phil, shouts 'maybe i can help!' when he leaves the diner

she then sings her diary section quite differently, like alt melody AND alt rhythm, she seems flustered

actually she also has a lot more variation between days than a lot of the townspeople, like she's more responsive to phil acting differently

LYRIC CHANGE in stuck - 'rhino foreskin' is now 'monkey foreskin'. lyric changes that push me dangerously close to googling 'do rhinos have foreskin' (EDIT - tim apparently said this was because white rhinos went extinct so it made him sad - thank u anon!)

the enema takes place behind a screen, a bit like the silhouette technique used for the shower in hope

at the end of stuck when everyone lists their thing again (karma/toxins/etc), phil says no!! after each one until alcohol and then he goes 'oh thank god'

nothing hugely notable to say for nobody cares, just that it skipped over some of the dialogue at the beginning just to make the scene tighter. i will say that ralph and gus are Exceptional in this version

the staging is mostly the same, except jack and wilbur get their own little cars to follow the truck in :)

in philandering, phil tells nancy he's a war correspondant rather than working for the nyt

again the dialogue throughout the song is a lot more streamlined

the little pillow fight section is replaced by a party in phil's room where you just see everyone going in and out of the door that's set up like when he slept w nancy. he gets his big fur coat from a coke dealer.

in one day, rita doesn't comment on phil's choice of drink, so there's nothing about 'frou frou lady drinks', she just orders right after him and the day restarts

not a new thing but. i forgot about the soixante neuf line and it made me choke

rita and phil sit on a bench to the side of the stage after the snowball fight, not on the floor

joelle's voice is extremely pretty in this ver:) I think the harmony may be slightly different?

LYRIC CHANGE. in arguably the most bizarre lyric change, jonathan is no longer addicted to fried chicken takeaway, but rather camembert. which you may notice does not rhyme with 'day'. the full line is: 'one day, i swear, i'll kick my addiction to camembert. my doctor said one day my heart will stop beatin', if i don't ease off this cheese eatin'.' (EDIT - changed due to this track being played by a black actor, though the one i saw was white - thank you anon!)

the diner waitress doesn't exist in this cut down cast, so it's debbie who can't sing. fred is very supportive :)

something cool they do in lieu of the turntable is for Larry's repeated 'ok phil we're on in 5...' they have multiple larrys, similar to the body doubling in hope, who keep running up to phil and fading away

ACT TWO

the act opens slightly differently - since nancy is kind of part of the marching band in this ver (tho not in full uniform), it opens with a quick section of who is that! who is that? emerging from his burrow -. nancy sings her 'kinda both but not quite either' line, and then drops one of her pompoms on 'until we hear it from old punxsutawney -' and then as she goes to pick it up that music stops and playing nancy begins

LOVE that it cuts off just before 'phil' bc it has the same effect as even choosing to open w playing nancy anyway. she was an incredible nancy as well she's not got many credits yet but oh my god? this was so striking and moving irl and it's already one of my favourite choices of the show

there's a lot more use of Red Lighting when phil kills phil. rip.

staging for hope is almost exactly the same, but minus turntable, so it doesn't have the part where lots of Not Phils are dying simultaneously, just the three main deaths

the scene where phil exposits about everyone in the diner goes jeff -> debbie -> freddie. there's a great exchange that goes 'you're welcome jeff.' / 'do you two know each other?' / 'no???' / 'that's jeff.'

also phil doesn't insist debbie wants a diamond (since she ends up w a doorknob anyway), he just goes CLOSE THE DEAL FREDDIE!!!

since this version establishes this is phil's fourth year covering ghd and debbie and fred met on ghd four years ago, there's a pretty good reason why they're such big fans of him :)

not a difference but the 'i'll never have a birthday' line always hits so hard

if i had my time again is THE single most different song between versions. the musical arrangement is quite different to my ear, different harmonies, and there's alt melodies and rhythms as well as some extra lyrics

as i have already seen noted on tumblr, 'and one dude when i was bored' has been upgraded to SOME dudes. also rita goes 'sure..!' she's like ok u bi bitch. also they're still on the benches at this point but she's jumped onto his.

even when they are on the move there's none of the stuff w the townspeople hounding phil for photos/autographs, they're just hanging out

the section where phil 'shows Rita his hometown' has actually been moved to near the end of the show, so they just get on the tilt-a-whirl immediately. also they share a car rather than having separate ones.

the staging for this part was so beautiful it actually made me cry lol. w strings of lights coming down

LYRIC CHANGE - 'i daily eat a dozen donuts' is now 'i eat a dozen donuts every day'

FURTHERMORE, the second 'why' is actually directed at rita's 'i would learn piano', and she replies by singing 'why?? I'd just give everything a try' and then their 'these revolving rides' section is a completely different tune going into a brand new ending where she's lying on his bed and he has a balloon, with:

NEW LYRICS - rita: 'go to all the parties that i missed, kiss all the boys i was too afraid to kiss (why am i not surprised you have a list?), try to have more days that end like.. this :)'

the next couple of scenes play out as in the bway ver

the order of vignettes leading up to and in night will come are switched - phil brings jenson the thermos of soup on the second day and takes him to the hospital on the third day as the song begins, with the scene w the nurse taking place after the first verse

obviously the staging is quite different without the turntable, ned wanders about between verses and then stands still/sits to sing

ned has a lot more of an 'annoying' exaggerated nasally voice in this ver

in his post-song broadcast, phil pronounces 'phi' like 'fee' instead of 'fie'

in philanthropy, phil saves jonathan from choking rather than the tourist, which does end up feeling a bit random since he also gives mrs lancaster a new coffee pot in this song iirc so along with the sheriff and debbie it's established he's solving the problems from 'one day', and jonathan is clearly Not choking on camembert lmao

the singer at the party at the end is debbie!!!

during seeing you, when phil takes rita up to the observation deck, she calls it 'romantic' sarcastically after the toilets/garbage/etc, and then That's when he points out the duck pond, school etc, and she says it's like he's showing her his hometown

MORNING OF FEBRUARY 3RD EVEN MORE DEVASTATING FROM THIRD ROW OF STALLS.

ending is the broadway one, watching the sunrise :) except it's just phil and rita and no one else

so yeah IT FUCKED andy karl I would die for you. as i say lmk if you have any other questions and i will do my best :)

[workingdownthewordmine]

Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter 5 Every Man Is Guilty

Bucky struggles with the attitudes of his so-called friends and Hive makes themself scarce.

Read this chapter on AO3 here.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 4

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Nonbinary OC, Steve Rogers Rating: T CW: Guilt, bullying (mention), violent child abuse (mention), homophobia (mention), mild dissociation Prompts filled: @lgbtqbingo : Hickeys @fluffbruary : Day 6 - Embarrassment @multifandom-flash (Compliments) : You are better than you think you are

@fandom-free-bingo (World Book Night Edition card 1) : "I don't need you." @fandom-free-bingo (Flight Edition) : Can't make it to dinner, Teasing @anyfandomangstbingo : Best friend's boyfriend @febuwhump : Day 24 - "I'm doing this because I care about you." @seasonaldelightsbingo (Winter Wonderland) : Situationship

Dividers by @unfortunate-beetle-and-friends

Chapter 5 – Every Man is Guilty

“But I have my life, I’m living it. It’s twisted, exhausting, uncertain, and full of guilt, but nonetheless, there’s something there.”

Banana Yoshimoto

“You’re not selling me on this, Steve.” Bucky leant back on the kitchen wall, chin lowered and arms crossed.

“I can’t give you specifics right now. Security’s too tight. If you’ll just come and talk to Fury-”

This was the guy who’d lied to every draft office in the tri-state area? When had Steve become so damn hidebound? “I’m not interested. I told you before, I’m not going to work for SHIELD. And you can save Barton and Romanov’s very touching Different Call story. I’m grateful for what you did for me, really, but I never agreed to get away from Hydra just to sell my soul to someone else.”

Steve’s hands dug deeper into his pockets. “SHIELD isn’t Hydra, Buck. It’s not the same at all. Just let me set up a chat with the director and you’ll see that.”

“Why won’t you let this drop? You’ve got your whole Captain America deal with your team. I’ve got an actual life of my own now. You don’t need me.”

“Fine. You’re right. I don’t need you.”

Never had someone agreeing with him felt so much like a fist in the gut. Bucky didn’t get the chance to tell him to go fuck himself. Steve kept going. “This isn’t about me needing your help, Buck. I’m here because I want your help. I need people around me that I can trust and I trust you. You’re my oldest friend. And I gotta say, Bucky, this whole ‘new life’ you say you’ve got going on looks a lot like walling yourself up in a different cell. I’m doing this because I care about you. What good was getting them to let you go free if you’re just going to lock yourself back up? You look like shit, Buck. When did you last eat? Or drink anything that wasn’t coffee or at least eighty proof? You aren’t one of the bad guys anymore. You can do something worthwhile with your life. You don’t have to be all alone. Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Fuck you, Steve. I’m not gonna be your goddamn bad guy outreach program poster boy. And I had a cheese sandwich just last night, as though it’s any of your fucking business.” And I’m not alone…

They both looked up at the same moment, both heads turned towards the hall closet. “Shit’s always falling down somewhere round here. Place has gone to hell.” But even Steve wasn’t dumb enough not to recognise a sneeze when he heard it.

“For a guy with his windows rigged to blow, you’re weirdly calm about someone climbing around inside your walls.” The tinge of suspicion he heard in Steve’s voice hurt more than Bucky had expected. Who the hell did he think he’d be hiding in a wall cavity? Then he cringed inwardly as Steve began looking around with more intent than he had before. Bucky practically felt his eyes rest for a moment on the extra sleeping bag. His eyebrows visibly rose when he spotted the mug with its weird cute cartoon dragon thing. “Buck?” The suspicion had gone from Steve’s voice and Bucky missed it already.

“Hey, kid, it’s okay. Just a social call.” He listened for a beat of silence, then he and Steve both hear the departing scraping of Hive heading up to the roof. Knowing what he did, Bucky could pick up the unevenness in their movement and made a note to ask to check their injuries later. If he ever saw them again, of course. They might be too spooked to come back at all. He looked down at their mug. They’d be back. He hoped.

“I guess it’s cool that some things don’t change. But I don’t remember you being this coy about your girlfriends even in the forties.”

“‘Girlfriend’ is a real strong word for anyone I passed the time with back then. And that’s not… what this is. They’re just a friend.” Or something. This was definitely not the time to start seriously questioning the weird-ass situation he’d found himself in the last twelve hours or so.

“A friend who hides in the wall when your other friends drop by?”

Other friends? Did Steve think Bucky was having poker nights with the guys every week? What other friends?

“They’re shy, okay?”

“Buck, you don’t have to be embarrassed. I’m glad you’ve found someone you don’t mind having around. I hated thinking of you cooped up here with nothing but a bunch of old memories.” Steve, buddy, you have no idea… “Think I’ll ever get to meet them? What? I can’t be curious about the first person apart from me to ever know the notorious Bucky Barnes well enough to leave a mug at his place?” He couldn’t help but be mildly impressed at Steve’s rapid and unquestioning switch to the neutral pronoun.

“I doubt it. They’re shy, like I said. And it’s not really an ‘introductions to old friends’ kind of thing.” Of at least that much he was sure. Hell, it wasn’t even a thing. Just a really weird couple of days… that had left an extra sleeping bag on his floor.

Steve was frowning again. “You, uh, you’re not in trouble, right? I’ll believe you, whatever you say. I just can’t help noticing you’re a bit more banged up than I’ve seen you in a while. And you smell like that stuff your mom used to cover my hives in when we were kids.” He tried a weak grin.

Well, believe it or not a Hive was responsible… Buck almost returned the smile before he shook himself.  “I’m good. Just had a run in with some kind of funky old insulation while I was doing some repairs. Nothing to worry your pretty head about. The scratches are all healed up anyway.” He turned his shoulder to indicate the one Hive had uncovered. “Only covered them up so I wouldn’t get blood on anything, just didn’t get round to taking off the rest of the bandages before you stopped in for the little recruitment drive. Speaking of which –”

Steve held up a hand to stop him. “Speaking of which, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said… a lot of what I did. It wasn’t my place to judge what you’ve got going on here. I’m sorry.” The renewed anger Bucky had been preparing to unleash petered out more quickly than he had expected. “I meant it though, about wanting to work with you again.”

Buck grunted. “Howling Commandoes reunion tour? This time with one hundred percent less falling out of trains, right?” He hadn’t expected Steve to take the weak joke so hard. Steve hadn’t looked this green since a kid landed a kick in his stomach that left him puking his guts into a trash can. He’d been waiting on the ground by the can when Buck came back with split knuckles and a grin of triumph. They’d gone back to Buck’s place to clean up before Steve’s dad could see the mess on his shirt and add a bloody nose to Steve’s problems. Buck’s place. This place. The sink where they’d rinsed out that faded threadbare shirt had been torn out long ago or it would have been right about where Steve was standing now.

“I should have looked harder.”

“Huh?” Maybe Hive’s attention span was catching, somehow. It took him a second to reconnect the dots.

“I went back. To the pass. I went back about a dozen times, looking for – well – for a body, I guess. Maybe if I’d been smarter about it, I would’ve… would’ve found you. Maybe we wouldn’t be where we are now.” Steve’s words sounded like he was trying to swallow them rather than speak them aloud. “But we are. And I can’t fix what I abandoned you to, but I can’t walk away again. Please, Buck, stop by the compound sometime – nothing to do with SHIELD, just come say hi. Or answer your phone once in a while. I miss my best friend, Buck. The guy I knew back in forty-five, back when our lives made some sort of sense.”

“That guy died in the fall, Steve.”

Steve shook his head. “No, I think he’s very much alive. I see him in there. Don’t bury my best friend in this place, Buck, please. You might feel like you deserve that but you don’t. I’m not talking about showing off how ‘rehabilitated’ you are or anything like that. I mean that guy still deserves the life he should have got the first time around.”

Was that part of you given a choice?

Yes.

There’s always a choice.

No. I would never have chosen that…

Bucky managed to look up at Steve’s eyes. Still fucking insane that he was taller than Buck now. “He’s getting a life. And, I guess, if you’re going to be clingy dork about it, that life can involve spending more time with you than it has done so far. Happy?”

“Yeah, happy. Jerk.”

“We’re in the twenty-first century now, for fuck’s sake, Steve. Learn to curse, I’m begging you.” For just a second they shared a grin. The moment was broken by a beep from Steve’s phone. The sudden awkward energy that radiated from him came as a surprise. “I don’t care if you check your phone, you know? World might be hours from destruction or something.”

“That’s unlikely.” Steve blushed. “It’s probably personal.”

“Stark sending out mass dick pics or something? You’re practically glowing there, Rogers.” The blond head ducked, Steve pushing a hand through his hair. He successfully blocked the blush from view but the new angle… “Steve, that’s a fucking hickey! That’s… at least three hickeys!” Captain America’s complexion was a riot of crimson, the blush spreading down to the livid bruise just below his jaw. “You bruise like I do – those are new and vicious. Christ, Steve, you been hooking up with a moray eel?”

“I, ah, I’m seeing someone.”

“No shit.” Probably he should have expected it. Steve must be one of the most eligible bachelors in the country now. Superpowers, a name like “Captain America”, and serum-enhanced looks on tops of his natural Steve-ness… The girls were probably all over him. Weird thought. “Well? Who is she? Do I need to check she’s good enough for my best friend?”

The tips of Steve’s ears became practically scarlet. “It, uh, look, Buck, I–” Bucky frowned. “The person I’m dating is… he’s a guy.”

Well, Bucky couldn’t say he’d never wondered. The immediate mental maelstrom was much the same as it would have been in the forties. How much trouble was this going to cause him? How many more beatings because hiding himself was absolutely alien to Steve’s nature? It took a few seconds for the twenty-first century to impose itself on his thinking. No, probably no beating for Captain America, but public opinion could be a hell of a thing to reckon with – especially for the nation’s golden boy. And Steve was standing there right now closer to cringing than Buck had seen him since his dad was alive. God, there was a man – if he even deserved the word – who would have exploded at the news that his son was a fairy. He probably would have tried to thrash it out of him, Avenger or no.

“He’s not off the hook for best friend judgement just because he’s male, you know. Do I get to meet him?” He felt the pressure in the room change as Steve relaxed. Had he really expected hostility over his confession? From Bucky?

He doesn’t trust you…

“Uh, I guess, sometime. No one else has yet but it’s not… not really a secret. The team knows.”

Bucky nodded. “Well? You gonna see what he wants?” On cue, Steve’s phone chimed again. Reluctantly, ears still hot, he pulled it out of his pocket.

“Just asking where I want to get dinner tonight.” He tapped out a reply, making Buck smile at the geriatric concentration he had to put into the exercise, betraying the boyish face.

“Cute.”

He knows, deep down, what a monster he unleashed by letting you go.

Stop.

That’s why he’s scared of you, even now. Guilt for leaving you behind? More likely guilt for not finishing what he started when he let you fall.

He didn’t “let me fall”.

We’ve been over this, asset. You used to be less naïve. You know the resources he has at his disposal. Do you really believe he didn’t just decide you weren’t worth the trouble?

Steve pushed his phone back into his pocket and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

Bucky waved the apology away.

“I should probably get going. I’ll see you? Soon?”

Bucky nodded, but…

Empty offer. You really think he and his new friends want someone around who tried to kill them – however poorly you executed your assignment? Stark didn’t even trust you unsupervised in this dump, let alone in his precious Tower.

“Steve, you sure the others won’t mind me just stopping by? Doubt I‘m popular over there. Not real eager to get teargassed soon as I set foot over the perimeter.”

Steve smiled, his confidence returning. He’d swung his leg over the sill already. “Sure, I’m sure. It’s not like everyone trusted Natasha when she first showed up either. They’re the good guys, Buck. They believe in second chances.” His smile was warm as ever as he ducked out of the window, not seeing the way the temperature of Bucky’s blood had plummeted. “And charge your phone,” Bucky heard him say as his feet landed on the tarmac.

Second chances… isn’t that sweet? So much for his assurances of your deep and abiding innocent soul, it seems. You could have almost believed that choir boy act, couldn’t you?

It was three hours before Hive returned the way they had left. The hum of the generator wasn’t quite enough to drown out their scuffling descent. The faceless apparition was unnerving until they loosened their hood strings and pulled their hoodie down to uncover their lower face. “Protection,” they explained, though Bucky had already guessed as much. From the looks of the stretched fabric round their wrists, they’d had the sleeves pulled down over their hands too.

“Good call. Skin still itches like shit.” He’d had another go with the cream – Steve was right about the smell barely having changed in almost a century – but ran into the same problem as before. He’d had to spend a good twenty minutes scrubbing the stuff out of the joints in his arm with a toothbrush.

He was turning to offer Hive some of the beans he’d been heating on the camping stove, when he realised what else had bothered him about their appearance. They were huddled in the hallway, dressed as they’d been when they made their exit earlier – hoodie, cargoes, black and purple striped socks…

“You’ve been hanging around Brooklyn with no fucking shoes on?”

“You’d be amazed. Saw one guy with no shoes, no socks, and only half a pair of trousers. Guess I should be grateful for what I’ve got. Anyway, I wasn’t stopping for pre-flight checks while I was busy fleeing for my life, was I?”

“You need to check that you’re wearing shoes?”

“Told ya,” They seemed almost proud. “My brain is wrong.”

“Won’t be the only thing that’s wrong if you do shit like that. You’re lucky you haven’t got tetanus or something.”

“Probably too soon to be sure if I have or not,” they pointed out as they dropped down by the fire and stuck their feet out to warm near the flames.

“Not real comforting, kid.”

Hive watched him for a moment, maybe wondering the same thing he was: at what point had their continued well-being become a matter of comfort to him. Then again, maybe not.

“You call me that a lot. Kid. ‘M not a kid, you know.”

He grunted in reply. “I’m an old man, kid. Don’t take it personally.” That was apparently acceptable. They huffed but smirked. They wiggled their toes. Unsurprisingly, the soles of their socks were filthy, damp, and holes in more than one place. One big toe poked free. They saw him looking and wagged it pointedly at him.

“Rude to stare.” They were grinning.

“Sure your feet are okay? There are landfills cleaner than the streets round here. No cuts or anything?”

“Will you feel better if I check?”

“I’ll have less concern about my apartment stinking of gangrene tomorrow, yeah.”

They rolled their eyes but folded their legs and peeled off their socks.

He doled out beans, giving Hive the bowl and keeping his own in the pan, while they performed their inspection.

“All good,” they pronounced, hopping up with only a bit of a wobble to rinse their hands under the lonely sinkless faucet. Bucky wasn’t sure if it had been seeing Steve standing in the old place, looking not so much like he’d grown as like the room had shrunk around him, or if it was just having someone else inhabiting the space with him for a while, but the apartment’s wasted, skeletal feel was more noticeable to him now. He was making food over a camping stove. His bed was a sleeping bag. For someone who’d finally come back home, he looked pretty homeless right now, didn’t he? Was that what Steve had seen? Did Bucky have that same look? An abandoned shell, like the building?

What makes you think you deserve any better? You could have been so much more…

“Cheers.” Hands clean, Hive had grabbed their bowl and clunked it lightly against the pan. Seeing his confusion, they repeated, “A toast to toes not turning grey and dropping off! Which… now that I hear it again, may not have been the most genteel toast ever raised at a meal. Oops. Hope I didn’t put you off.” They tucked into their own food with no sign of discomfort.

“A toast to not losing body parts gets my vote,” he conceded. They shared a grin. “Where did you go earlier anyway? Guessing you didn’t find a café that didn’t care about the lack of shoes.”

“Rooftops, mostly. Nearby ones. Figured if it was a social call I probably didn’t need to flee the state. Thought about a library but figured I’d attract a bit too much attention.”

“Library?”

“They have books there! The wild kind, not the kind you have to pay for. Like a book zoo – except members can foster the animals. The analogy got a bit lost, sorry.”

“I followed, most of it anyway. I do know what a library is. We had ‘em when I was a kid too, you know.”

While he did the sparse dishes, Bucky could see Hive moving around out of the corner of his eye. A glance found them rolling up their sleeping bag and gathering the small quantity of trash they’d been accumulating into a sack. He dried his hands and grabbed his phone; it had turned up beside the plant pot. The generator fell quiet. Bucky turned the phone on and almost immediately wished he hadn’t. It lit up with message after message, the device rattling in his metal grip.

Steve: Been a while. How are you getting on?

Steve: Hope you are doing okay. There is a briefing later today that you might be interested in. Let me know.

Banner: Shuri sent me over your updated records. I think we should discuss a pain management regimen. Contact me.

Steve: Clint and Natasha are planning a movie night. How about joining us?

Steve: You really need to answer a text (or a call) once in a while.

Fen: You’re 30m late

Fen: Where are you??

Fen: Call me, James

Steve: I tried to call twice and didn’t get an answer. I’m going to drop by this morning. There’s some SHIELD business I want to discuss and it’s been a long time since you checked in. Miss you, man.

Fen: This is real shitty of you. You’re decent at the job and I like you but you can’t just ditch for the day without a word. The garage was busy today. We need to talk.

Steve: ETA 10 minutes.

“Fuck.” Hive looked up. “Everything going on since yesterday… Seems I forgot to go to work today.” He started moving automatically, grabbing his jacket off a picture nail, and toeing his boots upright. Hive must have taken them off for him while he was unconscious. He’d have expected to feel more latent objection to the idea but he definitely did not have time to stop and consider the unfamiliar close, warm sensation he experienced instead.

“I should have thought… sorry.”

“Huh?” He stopped, half inside his jacket.

“I mean, I knew, didn’t I? Where you work. That’s how I found you in the first place. Should have occurred to me that you ought to be there.”

He was already four hours late. What difference was five more minutes likely to make to his boss’s bad mood. “Wasn’t your problem if I went to work or not. I’m a big enough boy to handle my own routine.” He was a bit unsettled to see Hive huddling into a corner again, much as they’d done last night. They were still on their feet but they’d shrunken down into their hoodie and were not looking at him. “Hey, kid, it’ll be okay. My huge personal charm will smooth things over with my boss and anyway it is not up to you to have shit to do with my schedule.” They nodded but still wouldn’t meet his eyes. Their gaze was unfocused, drifting around the floor. Trying not to wonder why he cared, he cast around for something to ground them.

“Know what? I’m gonna try to make a dinner tonight that doesn’t come straight out of a can. What do ya think? Sound good?”

“I mean… it’s pretty vague.” He was relieved to see some… presence come back into their face. “Are we talking closer to a dead pigeon you found on the roof or delicately braised sustainably-farmed salmon?” Bucky’s expression apparently satisfied. They grinned a little.

“I guess somewhere in the middle but a little closer to the dead pigeon. I’ll do my best.”

The grin brightened. “Sounds good. I don’t like salmon much anyway.”

He nodded. “No salmon. Got it. See you later – gotta go save my job.”

The garage hadn’t been too bad. Fen had been obliged to rake him over the coals a little – sure it was real useful having a guy on staff who could jack up a car on one hand, in addition to being able to handle basically any bike issue she could remember being brought, but only if he was gonna decide to turn up when expected and not just when it was convenient to him. He knew she took no pleasure in playing the hard-ass, except with assholes who didn’t believe she was more than capable of dismantling their tricked out dick substitutes down to the nuts and then reassembling it faster than they could jerk off over a climate change denial manifesto; she just wanted her garage running smooth. He’d worked out the rest of the day and hung out past close to put away some late deliveries by way of apology and all ruffled feathers had settled. His extended shift had meant it was already past dark when he got to his supply run, though. He hoped Hive wasn’t getting too hungry waiting.

If they were, it wasn’t causing any notable chaos. The building was quiet and dark. Maybe they were taking the opportunity for some much needed sleep. A smile crept over his lips at the thought. He tried to keep quiet and not disturb them when he manoeuvred his awkward haul through the window, catching the new wok as it made a dash for the floor. But he’d no sooner set things down than he knew the apartment was deserted. It felt empty in a way he couldn’t recall it feeling before they’d arrived. He stuck his head out into the hallway but the whole building had the same mournful, abandoned echo. A shiver gripped him – all the more dramatic in a body that always ran so hot. He searched the apartment. Their sleeping bag was folded neatly in a corner of the hall. His own he found moved to his bedroom, spread out with pillow, blanket and a sheet of paper laid on top. He recognised their handwriting.

Hey Bucky,

Wasn’t sure when to expect you back. I’m so sorry – looks like I might have to miss dinner after all. I need to go do something. Should be back by 9 at the latest so… maybe save me some if I didn’t piss you off too much by ditching? Sorry, again. Sorry sorry sorry. See you later.

Hive x

Bucky stood in his bedroom doorway with the note in his hand and shot a look at the things he’d left in the kitchen – the wok and utensils he’d been managing without, the extra bowl, plate, cutlery, and the bag spilling spring onions and packets of noodles beside them. Gotta do what they gotta do, he supposed. The note creased in his fingers. No problem. Might take him a while to get this right anyway. He’d cook, and they’d probably be back by the time he was done, sure.

With how many people who’d love to know where to find Bucky Barnes in tow?

They don’t want to be found themselves. They wouldn’t bring anyone back here…

The nightmare act really sucked you in, didn’t it? Who knows who they really are? Even if they are in hiding from someone, aren’t there plenty of people who’d trade the whereabouts of the Winter Soldier for better protection than hiding out with a monster who already nearly killed them? Not a high bar, is it?

So what’s your suggestion?

What time is it?

What?

They said they’d be back by nine.

Probably so we’d stay put and off guard.

What time is it?

He’d never bothered to get a clock. He pulled out his phone.

22:27

His eyes shot to the window.

Note: Thanks for reading, y'all! And thank you to all the wonderful providers of prompt events without which I probably wouldn't have started writing again. Special thank you to my boys for inspiring me and keeping me motivated.

[iheartpapipascal]

Dangerous Statement

Pairing: Jack Daniels x f!reader

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!

Summary: reader has bad sex the night before, so her roommate helps her out. Basically smut with a little plot beforehand and a tiny bit of fluff after (because I can't resist). Also, the reader isn't aware of Jack's occupation in this fic, just a heads-up.

Warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, nippleplay, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, yall), small praise kink, softdom!jack (blink and you'll miss it I'm serious), creampie, fluff, no use of Y/N. If I missed anything, please let me know in the comments!

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: I really liked writing this, and I hope yall like it too. If you have any suggestions for future fics, just let me know :) also, if anyone knows how to make your posts say the "see more" thing, I would really appreciate it😭 I'm tired of scrolling all the way through a fic just to get to my other posts lmao.

Enjoy!

Edit: had to tweak a few things today, it was really late when I posted this last night and I forgot to add some stuff. Now enjoy (for real this time).

You yawn as you lumber into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from your eyes. Still making yourself aware of your surroundings, you spot the coffee machine on the counter and walk over to pour yourself a cup.

"Mornin'."

The smooth southern drawl of his voice abruptly cuts into the silence of the apartment, making you jump. You turn around, sipping on the hot, bitter liquid to face him.

"Jack? I thought you weren't supposed to be back for about a week."

He sits at the small two-seater dining table with a newspaper in hand and his beloved Stetson on the surface beside him.

"Well, I wasn't, but once we landed in Dallas, my boss musta' had the sudden realization that he overcompensated for the amount of work that needed to be done, so I was uh, sent home early."

You blink as you take in the slightly annoyed tone of his voice, the way his brows furrow as he talks, and the way his eyes glide over the page he's focused on.

"Oh."

You never really asked about his job, but you knew he was pretty secretive about it and that it kept him away often.

You pause and take a swig of your coffee.

"Hey, Jack, when'd you get in?"

Shit. Please say he got here this morning. Early this morning, too tired to even shower, please say that. Please say he didn't hear anything. Please, please, pl-

"Pretty late last night, but apparently not late enough. Boy, it sounded like you were havin' fun," he snickers as he turns the page.

Shit indeed.

"I don't know what you mean," you say, playing dumb, but he sees right through you.

"Oh come on, sweetheart," he drawls, tearing his eyes away from the paper and looking up at you through dark lashes, "You weren't exactly quiet."

"You think maybe," you scoff under your breath, giving up the useless facade, "That was the point?"

You couldn't hide the disappointment in your voice. And you were disappointed. You had high hopes for the man you had met the night before. He had seen you from across the bar and bought you a drink. He came over a minute later and cracked a cheesy pickup line. Despite your groans, the alcohol already in your system made you easy to laugh, and you invited him to have a seat. He was kind, funny, moderately handsome, and when he touched your leg after a joke, it gave you goosebumps. Yes, he was all this, and somehow, completely horrible in bed.

Jack chuckles. "So you were fakin'?"

"Yeah, nothing new though, if I'm being honest. Seems like all men have the same goal: get off and get out."

He looks back down at the newspaper. "Well that's quite a statement."

"So you're saying it's not true then?" You bring the mug to your lips, awaiting his answer.

He shrugs. "In my personal experience, no. A woman never leaves my bed unsatisfied."

You scoff lightly. "Well aren't you special?"

"It's true, sugar," He looks back up at you. "You wouldn't."

You look at him with wide eyes, silent at the suggestion that's clearly a joke. Clearly. Right?

"Hey, you there?" His voice snaps you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

"Jack, what do you mean by that?"

"By what, sweetheart?"

"By saying that I wouldn't."

You lock his eyes with yours, daring him to say the words again. He looks at ease, like he's enjoying this, even. He clears his throat.

"What I mean by that, is that if you had sex with me, darlin', those moans wouldn't be fake."

You stare at him, cheeks heating up, even more dumbfounded by these words than the last. This side of him wasn't relatively unseen, though. He was always flirtatious with you, and sometimes you even returned those words jokingly. He made it easy enough, being hot as hell, but he was your roommate. You had deemed him off limits on day one.

"Is that an offer?" You tease, trying to salvage your dignity.

He closes the newspaper and stands up, smirking. "I don't know, is it?"

You look at him as he walks towards you, still trying to wrap your mind around his words. The only viable explanation for this is that he's messing with you.

"You're kidding, right?"

"I don't know, am I?"

"For God's sake, Daniels, just answer the damn question," You say in exasperation. "It's too early in the morning for riddles."

He closes the space between you, his eyes locked onto yours.

"I think I've made my intentions pretty clear, darlin'."

You're looking up at him now, so close he can probably hear your heart trying to jump out of your chest. Your eyes take all of him in, your gaze lingering first on his warm brown eyes, the shape of his beautiful aquiline nose, then the pout of his lips. You can make out his familiar scent of whiskey, caramel, and spicy hints of cinnamon. You make one last feeble attempt to deny what you want. What you need.

"Jack, I don't know...." Your words almost get caught in your throat as you continue to take in his presence so close to you. "I don't know if this is a good idea."

He smiles as he takes the mug out of your hands and sets it gently on the counter.

"Let me help you make up your mind."

Your eyes lock on his as he cups one side of your face with his hand. And then he's kissing you. His lips touch yours and suddenly you feel a longing for him that you hadn't known was there. Your eyes flutter closed as you savor the kiss, tender but firm. He tastes both spicy and sweet, and you feel as if you can't get enough. His lips linger on yours for a moment before he lets them separate and presses his forehead to yours.

"Just say the word and I'll stop." His words break the silence the kiss fills and your eyes open to look at him. You take in the situation for a moment. You pushed up against the counter, this close to him. Your bodies feel as if they were made to be pressed together like this. Fuck it, you decide. You reach up to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him back toward you. The kiss is rougher this time, more needy from the both of you. Your hands find his hair and run through his dark locks, looking for anything to grab onto.

He softly grips your waist with his free hand and takes his lips away from yours. You would protest at the absence if he wasn't moving his mouth lower to your chin, down your jaw, and then finally making you gasp as he hits a spot on your neck that sends sparks all through your body and heats up the place between your legs. He lets his hand fall from your face to make its way around your waist, then lets the other one go lower to snake its way around your upper thigh. In one swift motion, he picks you up and sets you gently on the counter, still kissing you hungrily.

His hands seem to have a mind of their own, moving to touch every part of you that they can at once, though still never enough. They move across your legs, your waist, and up your shirt, each spot they desert replaced with a feeling of need for his touch. Your eyes are closed and your mouth is open in a soft 'oh' as he moves his lips from your neck to your sternum, your hands still playing with his hair.

He lightly touches the fabric of your shirt and pulls his lips away from your skin to look at you again, both of you breathing in unison.

"This shirt needs to come off, sweetheart."

The words weren't a statement, but a question. One last chance for you to stop this before it goes too far. He slowly bunches up the fabric at each side of your shirt as he awaits your answer. You give him a single slow nod, telling him to go ahead. He nods back as he carefully lifts the shirt up over your head and tosses it on the floor.

Normally, when he was home, you would wear a sports bra under your shirt to bed, something to cover your chest. You had grown up uncomfortable with the idea of anyone seeing too much, and that notion stuck with you into adulthood. But due to him not being there for the past few days, you had freed yourself from that restraint.

"Shorts, too."

He plays at the waistband of your shorts as you adjust to allow him to pull them off and throw them haphazardly next to your shirt.

You look at his face for any type of reaction, waiting for him to say or do something, anything, as he just stares at you for a moment. Stares at your bare breasts, the way they shape a deep 'V' into your chest. The black lace panties you're still wearing from preparation for the night before. He stares at you in awe of what he deems perfection.

He brings his hand to your stomach, slowly moving it upward to cup your breast, his thumb moving circles around the bud of your nipple. The stimulation gives you chills as he kisses you again. He starts to move down like before, but doesn't stop at your collarbone. Instead, he goes further to your other breast, kissing and licking at your other nipple as he looks up at your reaction. Your eyes are closed in concentration, trying to savor the moment.

After a minute, he stands up and guides your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He makes out with you ravenously as he picks you up, carrying you across the apartment and to the couch. He brings both of you down onto it, him on top of you as your legs untangle themselves from around him. He sits up for a moment, taking off his T-shirt to reveal his bare chest, then goes back to touch your lips with his. One hand is in your hair, the other making its way down your body, finally settling on the fabric of your panties.

His fingers rub small circles around your sensitive spot through the fabric, making you squirm. He smiles against your lips as he takes in the small sounds you make against his. He drags his mouth down your body as he continues to play with your clit, enjoying every reaction he can draw from you with just his hands.

"Fuck, sweetheart. So wet for me already, hm? You want these fingers inside you, sugar?" He says, his mouth down by your entrance, placing small kisses around the area and sending jolts through your body with each one. Not able to wait, he pushes the lace aside as he licks a stripe up your pussy, making you moan softly. You cover your mouth, embarrassed to be making noises this early.

"Yeah, just like that darlin'. Keep makin' sounds just like that for me." He reaches up to grab your wrist to remove it from your mouth and pin it to your side. He continues to tease your clit with his tongue as your body begs for him and your mouth does the same. He finally lets his tongue enter you, looking up at you as he chuckles at your reaction.

You moan and continue to writhe under the influence of his tongue as he uses his forearm to pin you to the couch.

"Shhh, sweetheart. Stop movin'....just relax. Stop squirmin' or I'll stop. Understand?" He says, clearly enjoying the way you're trying to control yourself.

"Mm-hm." You nod, unable to form coherent words and try to focus on following his directions. You try, but you're falling apart at the seams with the way his tongue is massaging your pussy. With the way his mustache is rubbing against your clit, creating friction and blinding all your senses with pleasure. He takes your legs and throws them over his shoulders, then enters you with his fingers. Fingers much bigger and and longer than your own.

He curls them inward, repeatedly hitting a spot that makes you see stars. You moan loud as he continues to eat you out and finger you at the same time, stimulating and bringing you to the brink of an orgasm.

"Jack, please," You beg between moans, finally finding the words, "I need more."

He laughs as he meets your request, curling his fingers even deeper inside you and sucking your clit, sending you over the edge. You wrap your legs around his neck and cry out his name louder than ever as you come, closing your eyes as white-hot pleasure courses through you. You buck your hips against him as he helps you ride out your high until it becomes too much for you to handle. He cleans you up with his tongue, lapping up your orgasm and making you shudder with every touch placed on your overstimulated area.

Then, he pulls you up into a sitting position, now at eye level with you. He brings his fingers to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him. It's unlike anything you'd ever experienced before, and you allow yourself to enjoy it, looking into his eyes as you lick every bit of your juices off of him, coming off his fingers with a soft pop. With your legs now together, he's able to pull off the useless panties separating your pussy from him in a single quick motion and let them drop to the floor. He stands up and unbuttons his jeans, dropping and stepping out of them. From your sitting position, your eyes are level with his boxers, and he gives a low hiss as you palm him through the thin cotton with your hand.

"These need to come off, sweetheart." You look up at him, feigning innocence as your hand continues to tease him. You tug at the waistband with both hands and pull them down, eyes widening as you take in the sight of his cock.

Oh, fuck. Of course he's big.

Your reaction is subtle but apparently not invisible, because he laughs softly and lifts your chin to look at him in the face.

"You can take it darlin', you'll be fine. Promise."

You quickly regain your composure and nod as he strokes himself a few times, trying to relieve some of the tension in him. Then, he takes your hands and helps you off the couch, kissing you as he turns you both around and sits. He pulls down so you're straddling him, your hands running through his hair as he lines himself up with your entrance.

He stops kissing to look at you and you do the same. He nods in encouragement as you prepare yourself. You start to move down and pause as the tip stretches your entrance. "Fuck," you mumble, and stay there for a second. He's not moving, letting you go at your own pace, and you're instantly thankful. You close your eyes and brace yourself as you lower onto him. You let out a soft gasp and hold onto him tighter as you put his full length inside you. He's painfully big and you stay there for a second, getting used to him. You're positive you wouldn't be able to do this if you weren't already wet from your previous orgasm.

When you feel ready, you start to ride him slowly, still trying to get comfortable. There's still a stinging sensation that comes with each downward motion, but you start to welcome it as pleasure begins to creep its way into the existing pain. After some time, the pain completely subsides and you're left with just desire for more of him. You start to pick up the pace and he notices, both hands on your hips to help guide you onto his cock. You open your eyes to look at him, letting out soft moans as he talks you through it.

"That's it, sweetheart, you're doin' amazing. Look at me, just keep your eyes on me."

Your legs begin to shake as you continue to move up and down, still somehow not enough to get you where you're going just yet.

"Jack. Faster. Please go faster," you whine, barely getting the sentence out. And just like that, you're begging just like you did earlier. With a rushed breath, you choke out the one word that will make him give you what you need.

"More."

Your pleas are hushed and quick, but he understands them. He starts to thrust up into you, his hands gripping your waist hard, no doubt leaving marks. He brings you down onto him with such force that he bottoms out, making you moan loudly. He does this over and over, and with each of his thrusts you melt into him, clinging onto him for support. Your cries for him become louder as he continues, until you swear your neighbors can hear you in the next apartment over.

"Fuck, sugar, keep goin' just like that. Good girl, just keep sayin' my name. So fuckin' pretty when you do that."

His words are low and barely heard over your screams, but they push you further nonetheless. You can tell he's close, but you can also tell there's no way in hell he's about to let himself come before you. He swears as he pounds into you from below, holding you steady as you ride him. The final motion that threatens to send you over the edge is when he brings his index and middle finger up to his tongue then back down to your clit, rubbing it in small, controlled circles. You try to close your eyes but he grabs your chin and makes you face him.

"Look at me darlin'. I want to see those pretty eyes on mine when I make you come." You look at him as best you can and try to focus on his eyes as he keeps his relentless pace, drawing out cries of pleasure from your lips. Then finally, without much warning, the coil tightening in your core snaps, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. Your eyes are still trained on him as he continues to fuck you, each motion making your muscles clench onto him and sending blinding pleasure to every last part of you. You put your head in the indent of his shoulder as you grip onto him for support, the reality of the situation coming back to you as your orgasm wears off. He continues to fuck into you, chasing his own high while whispering praises in your ear. After a few thrusts, his breathing increases and the sound of his voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Where do you want it, sugar?" He asks, his words strained as he tries to maintain his pace. Your face leaves his shoulder and you sit up to look at him.

"Inside."

That's all he needs to hear. He leans his head back against the couch, low groans escaping his mouth. Some seconds later, you feel his warm orgasm enter you, filling you up, and its unlike any sensation you'd ever felt before. You cant help the smile creeping onto your face. It'd always been a kink you wanted to explore, but during previous sessions with other men it had never felt right to ask when the time came. With Jack, though, you don't feel any hesitation to ask for what you want. It's freeing and you know instantly that you would be comfortable telling him even your deepest desires.

He slows his pace to a stop as you rest, still on him. He brings his hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he looks at you, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. He carefully guides you off of him then helps you sit down on the couch. He stands up then turns to face you. You have a look of confusion on your face and start to protest before he stops you.

"Don't move, alright? I'll be back in a sec."

You wait on the couch as he goes into the bathroom. He comes back after a minute, a wet washcloth in hand. He carefully cleans you up, chuckling as you shudder when the cloth touches a sensitive spot on your body. When he's done, he tosses it onto the floor beside his clothes. He sits on the couch beside you, then gingerly brings you both down into a laying position, one arm cradling your head, the other wrapped around you, pulling you close to him. He brings his lips to yours, kissing you tenderly before moving up to kiss the tip of your nose, then finally your forehead. He lets himself linger there for a second and you close your eyes, savoring the moment. You bring your hand up to touch his cheek, a small smile spreading across your face.

"So, were they fake?", he asks after a minute, laughing softly. You pretend to swat at him with your hand.

"Shut up." You say, laughing with him.

"Hey," he continues, caressing your back with his hand and still snickering, "you didn't say yes."

"Didnt say no, either." You continue, your head finding its favorite spot in the crook of his shoulder. His next words are missed as you doze off with him holding you, feeling as if you could stay there forever in his arms.

[creoterative]

Mateo or Yun chuan hcs

If dating someone

I imagine their second bounties are very telling

🥺

I. Am. So sorry.

This has been sitting in my requestbox since last week I think and I absolutely forgot about it, shame on me, really.

I'll go with the Lore again and make up my mind about it, because, I gotta admit it... I don't own them either... I can only read what is given to me on the Wiki or in animations... sorry :>

Again, I apologize for taking so long, but I've done my research and heeeere it comes - I'm gonna do both xD :

Mateo

It literally says in his Lore "The burning ember Mateo left behind must have melted the icy walls surrounding someone's heart."

So I'm gonna go with that, it sounds very symbolic and kinda nice for someone as ruthless and arrogant as him.

Mateo isn't coldhearted, but... he's harsh. Even finding someone to date him would be pretty challenging. I imagine him being quite picky with the company he keeps.

From what I've seen of him so far, the only thing he really wants to be, is a hero. The way to achieve this goal though, that, uhm... isn't important at all. He'll make sacrifices if needed, not if they are morally correct, so I think that's the same approach he'll have in a relationship.

Finding someone to date is hard enough with his character and story, but if he does, his affection is gonna be like an exponential curve. It starts of very slow, very low, just little sparks and turns into a flickering flame until it suddenly explodes and becomes a blazing tornado.

Mateo seems like the kind of guy to take his time with relationships and dating in general. He's slow, not wanting to pick the wrong person, but it takes one impactful event and he's head over heels.

He might become a bit... clingy after that.

In an affectionate way, but... it can be annoying from time to time.

It takes a lot for him to open up though since too many people tried to humiliate him in the past and of course he doesn't want that to happen again.

As mentioned before, it'll take time. But after the ice is melted, well, his significant other will have a friend for life and the force of fire and storms by their side.

He doesn't like physical affection though. I imagine him being more of a praise guy. If the significant other is talking to him, about him, with him, that's all he needs. He doesn't need long cuddles or movie nights or walks in the park. Talking to them is what he gets his energy from in the end and affection through words is what he seeks. In the end, he'll learn to return the favor.

Edit:

"You're safe with me" is said a lot. Does it work? Not really. Does he mean it? No, he knows quite well that his significant other won't be 'safe' with him at all. What he actually means is "Danger follows me everywhere, but I'm here to protect you at all cost".

Fancy is a word that might describe him, but that's a word to describe most of the characters in Dislyte. Fancy restaurants, fancy cars, fancy gifts for the loved one. But when it comes to the actual romance, he's... or he seems to be rather easy-going. Traditional. Stargazing, good food, talking... that's more his style.

Don't give him too much credit, the man will become even more arrogant than before and keep a personal record of the times he's been able to get a "You're so cool" out of his significant other.

Yun Chuan

Oh he's soft.

Dumb, but soft.

Well, not dumb dumb, more in an innocent way, he's just... uhm... slow. When it comes to dating.

I imagine him being quite determined and if he's set a goal for himself, he doesn't stray from his path, so dating is just the same.

Yun Chuan is sweet though and can be a real gentleman if he wants to, but on the other hand, if he finds a significant other, he expects them to train just as hard as he does.

That is more for their own protection than because he's demanding the same determination. He knows very well that he can't be around at all times, so he wants his love to be strong.

I think he's definitely more cuddly than Mateo, while also being more on the distant side. He won't cuddle when other people are around, but when they're alone in a room, yeah, then he's all in.

Depends on the phase of the relationship of course, because I imagine him being a bit shy at the beginning, not knowing what he can and can't tell the other person.

Much like Mateo, he is loyal to the end, but other than Mateo, betrayal doesn't affect him as much. He's kinda used to it and somehow even expects it, so while there isn't a constant thought in his back, telling him that they might betray him one day, he knows that it COULD happen. And all he wants to be is prepared.

Lots of talking about and playing with his little guard dog.

Aaalright, that's it, I hope ya like it ^^

Have a nice day and stay safe!

[rcmclachlan]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @microcomets. Thanks, friendo!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

71 currently. I've orphaned a bunch, though.

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

526,242

3. What fandoms do you write for?

These days I write for whichever fandom strikes my fancy—it might be a new one, or it might be one that I fall back into every so often. My most recent fics have been a mix of new (Beyond Evil, Good Omens, Loki) and old (Cardcaptor Sakura).

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Long Live The King (DBZ, bulma/vegeta)

Stopgap (Good Omens, crowley/aziraphale)

100 Zeni (DBZ, trunks/goten, bulma/vegeta)

Named (Supernatural, dean/castiel)

Solve for X (MCU, tony/loki)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I've gotten better at this! I now make sure to reply to every comment on my newer works (sometimes it's a bit overwhelming, but I think the effort is worth it).

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Oneiori. Like, Cas gets a happy-ish ending, but it's not going to last. Womp womp.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

These days, I try to end all my fics on a happy note! The happiest that comes to mind is Heritage Site.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I think I've gotten hate maybe twice since I started posting to AO3 in 2010? That's statistically negligible, which is kind of amazing!

9. Do you write smut?

Not often. I don't mind writing it, but it really needs to serve a purpose to the story for me to make the effort.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you have written?

Nah, not really my thing.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, but I've had a fic's summary stolen! That was a trip.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I'm floored people like my work enough to put that kind of time and effort into translating it!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope. I tried, but it ultimately didn't work out (mostly due to writer's block and scheduling issues).

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

This is like asking me which of my children I love more. It'd take me a month to answer this question and I'd need someone at CERN to check my work.

I will say Kakashi/Iruka is my most enduring fave; I started reading them in 2005 and fall back into them every 3 or so years. I'm currently in a kakairu cycle (as if y'all couldn't tell).

15. What is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Speaking of Kakashi/Iruka.... Hadopelagia. It was just far too big in scope for me to even think about finishing. I think I frightened myself out of it! For the best, though. I re-read it the other night and it's a MESS. This is why betas are so important, kids.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've gotten a lot of comments about how I use metaphor effectively, as well as comedy. I don't think I'm particularly funny compared to other writers, but it always fills me with joy when someone mentions my dumb sense of humor.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Definitely smut. There's nothing worse than trying to keep track of where everyone's legs are.

Me: "I used the word 'cock' fourteen times in this paragraph......... well, maybe no one will notice."

18. Thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics?

I've done it! Named had a whole scene written in Spanish (I tried my hand at it and then had a native speaker edit it). I think when done well, it adds something really meaningful to a story.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The first fanfic I ever wrote was before I even knew what fanfiction was. It was an Animorphs self-insert fic and I wrote it on a legal pad at my grandparents' house in like 1997. The first fandom I officially posted fic for was Fruits Basket in 2003, followed by QAF in 2004.

20. Favorite fic you have written?

Probably A Twist of the Knife. I had an absolute blast writing Nie Huaisang, and I'm really proud of the story as a whole (which is rare for me).

Tagging: @sonatine, @lemonistas, @stitchyblogs, @dadvans, @ataraxetta, @nandalorian, and anyone else who wants to get in on the action. :-D

[glitxhwayventeen]

The Smart One: Part Three

Yeonjun

Characters: Yeonjun x female reader

Warnings: mentions of- a fight scene, death, drinking, smoking, partying, sleeping around (but it’s all consensual so i don’t see a problem with it. But i know some people do so TW ig), name calling (but they don’t actually mean it and none of them think they do, they’re loving nicknames), crying, pining/angsty love, blood, another pack’s fight, Yeonjun being dumb basically poor baby

Author’s Note: Home sick with Covid so I figured I’d put out another chapter! Hope it does totally suck :/ it was a bit rushed on my part so I’ll end up going back and editing some things later I’m sure. I know it’s a bit slow but it’s leading up to the next chapter i swear. Let me know what you think!

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

There Will Be Blood Masterlist

The Smart One: Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

🥀

Bold- Dialogue Italics- Thoughts

Tag list- @hihello-pinky

It took Yeonjun a while to stop sobbing mindlessly so he could explain himself and apologize to the pack. And at first, the pup of the pack was really mad at him for refusing to interact with you. Though after he began tending to his wounds, Huening Kai started to think about just how bad the fight they had could’ve ended.

So he, in a way at least, understood that his brother was just trying to protect you. Which the younger boy appreciated, he cared for your safety as his friend too.

Though as the day slowly faded into night, he kept thinking about the current predicament the oldest had to face. And the more he thought about it, the more unfair he found it all. In fact, he still thought the whole situation was bullshit.

He didn’t get the purpose in keeping you in the dark about everything. He didn’t see why you shouldn’t get to decide whether or not you wanted to be part of the family on your own. He didn’t understand why he and his brothers had to live their lives only half fulfilled when all the normal humans got to go on and live normal lives.

But mostly, he didn’t get why Yeonjun shouldn’t be able to have the love of his life by his side.

For as long as Kai had known him, the eldest wolf rarely cared for anything, or anyone, enough to fight for it as much as he had fought for you the last day alone. Truthfully, he hardly even seemed to care about what was going on with his own pack unless he absolutely had to. All he acted like he cared about was the party boy lifestyle he had relished in.

And oddly enough, before the day’s incident, Yeonjun hadn’t even ever fought with his brothers before. Sure he smacked them every now and then to make them come to their senses. Sure he raised his voice at them when he was angry with them.

But he never got to the point of physically attacking them. Other people yeah, he was known to start fights with people outside of their pack. Just never within the pack.

That’s how Kai knew just how badly the whole situation was affecting his hyung. When he knocked him to the ground, he could see panic race across his face. He could see the fear behind his crimson eyes. And he could feel the internal conflict he was going through with every punch thrown his way.

He wanted his brother to be happy. He wanted him to get to live the life everyone should have the choice in living. And he wanted you as a sister.

It wasn’t even because it would mean you’d be able to help him with school whenever he needed. Or that you’d feel the need to take care of him as the only mate in the pack.

The truth was, Hyuka was already sandwiched between two sisters in his real family. He loved having them around, even if it meant constantly fighting and bickering with them. So he knew he’d love having you, one of the few friends he had ever managed to make on his own that he never disagreed with, as a new addition to their pack.

And the pup just knew you’d have the best influence on Yeonjun. Where he was frantic and illogical, you were calm and rational. Where his brother was unpredictable and borderline dangerous at times, you were steady and always comforting. Where he was cold and charming, you were loving and awkward.

The two of you were like Fire and Water. Your personalities were so different it was almost comical. But Kai knew that fate wouldn’t have brought the two of you together as mates if it wasn’t exactly what you both needed. And it was cruel of outside forces to try and pull the two of you apart.

He couldn’t stand for it anymore. He wouldn’t. He brought you two together and he was damn determined to keep you that way.

And he knew that once Yeonjun had gotten to know you personally and spoken to you for just a little bit longer, he’d be unable to keep his word on distancing himself from you. All Kai had to do was find the perfect way to get you two talking.

————

Soon, days of ignoring you turned into weeks. And soon those weeks turned into over a month. Yeonjun had managed to stay away from you for over a month, and he was proud of himself for it. Proud, and gutted for not being able to be anywhere close to you for your own safety.

Anytime he felt like giving into his instincts, anytime he could sense he was about to throw it all out the window to go and get close to you, he had to stop and remind himself it was for the best. You were safer with him out of your life now.

Even if you still got bullied relentlessly by some of your so-called classmates. It was better than getting attacked by a werewolf or put in harm's way because a hunter decided to go after their little pack again.

But he would be lying if he said his lack of knowledge about how you were doing wasn’t killing him.

So much so that he had actually gone back on his word to follow you around campus a few times. He hadn’t meant to, truly he was pretty good at staying away from you.

But he just had to make sure you were doing alright every now and then. He stayed out of your line of sight, you had no clue he was anywhere around you. He still kept his word.

He had no contact with you and so he had no idea what was happening in your life minus what he had seen with his own eyes.

In fact, the only news Yeonjun got of you was what he had managed to catch from the pup’s conversations with their other brothers. The eldest didn’t have the courage to ask for any information himself, fearing that if he heard just the wrong thing he’d go running to your side and ruin your life.

And his brothers didn’t want to tell him anything about you if they could help it, figuring that it must’ve been torturing enough to be away from you.

Even so, the oldest of the pack couldn’t help but keep his ears open for any mention of your name or topics that could’ve been related to you whenever he was near them.

So he knew you had picked up two new students to tutor because your teachers asked you to help them out. Because you were someone that cared for others.

He wished he could ask you why you felt the need to spread yourself so thin just so you didn’t let your teachers down. He wished he could ask you if you were getting enough sleep and taking care of yourself enough to compensate for the added stress. But he couldn’t.

He knew that you aced your physics exam you had been worried about because Kai insisted that he and the other boys take you out to lunch to celebrate since you had no one else to reward you for the good job you did. He wished more than anything he could have celebrated your victory with you too.

Yeonjun hoped you listened to the boys when they told you how proud they were of you. He hoped that you believed every word he secretly coached/begged Huening to praise you with because he couldn’t tell you himself.

He knew that you recently went back to visit your mother in… Kenya? At least that’s the word he thought he had heard Kai tell Beomgyu when he questioned why you didn’t have a tutoring session with him that week.

He wondered what your life was like there and if you had a good time. He wondered what your family was like and if you missed them as much as he missed you.

Yeonjun felt like a hollowed out shell. Most days he only woke up or ate because his brothers practically forced him out of bed to shove food down his throat.

He didn’t even try to attend classes anymore, something that his school had sent him a notice for. But he didn’t care, he knew his rather well off and neglectful parents would just donate some large amount of money to the administration so they wouldn’t make a fuss over it or ask anymore about it.

He no longer attended parties. He still drank and smoked, but only when he could actually pull himself out of bed long enough to light a cigarette or pour himself a drink, which wasn’t very often.

And Yeonjun definitely didn’t give a fuck about sleeping around anymore. He had even had a few of his fuckbuddies come knocking on their front door asking why he wasn’t around or why he wasn’t responding to their late night texts. A few even questioned if he was dead they were so confused on why he had just fallen off the face of the earth.

But it didn’t matter to him, he closed the door in their faces with ease. None of them were attractive to him anymore. None of them excited him anymore. None of them made him feel anything anymore. None of them were you.

His behavior was beginning to concern his brothers, so much so that they were beginning to think he was facing some sort of rejection from refusing to be anywhere near you. But truthfully he wasn’t. At least, he didn’t think he was.

He just felt like the flame that kept his hot head floating went out. He was tired and over dealing with any and everything if it didn’t pertain to you.

Yeonjun thought maybe he’d feel a little better once the pup’s birthday came around. They usually celebrated by ordering his favorite foods and playing games together.

But instead, he was informed earlier in the day that Kai had already planned on going to some party one of his classmates invited him to.

So there he laid in bed, staring at the giant digital 11:55 PM on his alarm clock, waiting for his exhausted brain to finally let him sleep while all he could think about was you.

He laid there waiting for the subtle closure of his eyelids hoping you were okay. And that your classmates would finally start to leave you alone. He hoped you enjoyed visiting your home country. And that you ate lots of yummy food and were keeping yourself healthy.

He wondered if his brain would let him visualize your beautiful figure and get to see your flowing smile again in his sleep. If he’d finally get to hallucinate finally getting to hold your hand or getting to feel how soft your hair really is when he would imagine tucking it behind your ear.

Soon, as he felt the familiar heavy weight take over his sight, he began to fantasize that he was hearing your soothing voice ringing through his ears once more.

But just as he had begun to finally close his eyes, just as his mind had finally started to shut off so that he could rest and hopefully be with you again at least during his slumber, his phone began to light up and buzz on his bedside table. Someone was calling him.

He was about to just say fuck it and let it go to voicemail. But something inside him told him to answer it, that the call could be important.

So begrudgingly, Yeonjun propped himself up to grab his phone to see who it was, and low and behold Huening Kai’s goofy contact photo popped up on his screen.

Why in the ever loving fuck was Hyuka calling him so late? Shouldn’t he have been out at some party?

He swiped right to unlock his phone and answer the call, “Huening it’s almost fucking midnight what in the hell could you possibly be calling me for?” The older boy groaned in Korean, his voice no doubt sleepy and dazed sounding.

“I-I’m sorry! I-I didn’t want to wake you!,” a feminine voice told him in English, a British accent slipping through as she stuttered in a panic, “This i-is Yeonjun right?”

His eyebrow lifted in confusion. Why had some random girl answered his phone? Why was she calling him so late? Where was Hyuka? And why did the girl’s voice sound so… familiar?

“Yes, this is Yeonjun,” He automatically replied in English, not knowing if the person on the other end even spoke his native language or not at that point, “Who’s this? Why are you calling me from Huening Kai’s phone?”

He heard the person clear her throat through, what he knew from experience to be, club like music before speaking again, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I wasn’t sure what else to do,” The girl apologized, “Kai’s very very drunk right now-” Yeonjun carefully tried to listen to the pretty sounding voice, wanting to be sure his tired brain didn’t mix any of its English words up, “He called me to help him get home. But I don’t have his address. I’d take him back to mine but the dorms don’t let us bring back opposite genders at night.”

He knew he knew your name. He was positive he had heard your voice before. It was on the tip of his tongue…

But before he could mentally guess anymore, another very familiar voice began speaking loudly in the background, “Noona wait! Is that- is it- Hi Yeonjun-ah!!” He heard Hyuka giggle as the girl begged him politely yet patiently to be quiet so she could speak.

“I’m sorry but Kai told me to call you because the others were busy?”

“Yes noona! Very verrry busy!” Huening laughed.

Based on his tone of voice, Yeonjun figured he must’ve been drunk off his ass. Which was worrying for two reasons.

One, the pup was a light weight who was naive as fuck when he was sober. The wrong person getting near him meant he was easy to take advantage of.

And two, it meant he wasn’t in control of his emotions. And that meant he could end up dissolving his contacts or shifting, at any given minute, and end up blowing their secret to a room full of random people.

“Right- yes busy. Anyways if you could just give me your address so I could bring him home I would really appreciate i-” but Yeonjun cut you off, knowing full well what was gonna have to happen.

“Don’t worry about it. Just watch him please. And send me the address. I’ll be there soon.” And with that, the older boy regretfully threw his blanket off of him, sat up, and threw his leather jacket over his tank top and some sweats over his boxers to head to the bathroom to put his contacts in. It was gonna end up being one hell of a night.

————

When Yeonjun got to the gathering of young people, his nose was immediately hit with the smell of partygoer sweat and bad weed. He used to welcome the unsavory odor. But since he met you, he learned it did nothing but give him a headache.

Walking into a less than ideal place hadn’t even been the worst part of his night that far. He also had to wake Soobin up to get his car keys. Hyuka felt like throwing up when he went for a ride on Yeonjun’s motorcycle when he wasn’t piss drunk. On top of that little lovely fact, the elder boy had recently gotten it detailed and he absolutely was not gonna risk his baby brother ruining it. Even if it was his birthday.

He probably would’ve more than likely fallen off of it anyways given the fact that the pup had probably drank so much he couldn’t hold his head up straight and had to have some random girl use his phone to call him for him.

So he had to unfortunately wake up the alpha to ask him if he could take his safer care. A car Yeonjun wouldn’t normally have been caught dead in because of the mom vibes it gave off.

Yeonjun was also still a little ticked off that Kai had told whoever it was that called him that he was the only one available to help when all three of his other brothers were at home. Two of which were still actually awake.

Not to mention he was ripped from his bed just as he was finally falling asleep and beginning to have a dream that involved you. So Yeonjun didn’t care if it was Huening’s birthday, he was gonna have to owe him big time for the night’s turn of events.

He managed to squeeze through the front door and did his best to zero in on the pup’s scent. He quickly figured out however, that that task would be nearly impossible. There was too much going on around him and he was far too out of it himself to be able to use his super powered nose properly. His other senses however, seemed to be in overdrive.

And it certainly didn’t help that he could also hear everything within the house. He could hear a guy down the hallway get rejected by a less than interested girl. Not that the guy was taking the hint in any sort of way.

Yeonjun soon found himself wondering if you would do the same to him if he had been able to ask you out. But then he realized he was being ridiculous. Of course you wouldn’t do that. You were too nice a person to try to blow off anyone asking you for a date.

He could hear all the best friends fighting outside about who was betraying who and why. He found one girl’s argument so compelling that he almost felt the need to take her side on the childish matter. Her voice was cracking and Yeonjun just knew that she must’ve been on the brink of tears.

He wondered if you would argue like her, if fighting with other people would overwhelm and upset you so much that you’d cry publicly to prove a point. Which he soon remembered was a dumb thought to have. You would never be in the position to argue with someone to begin with.

You didn’t like attention and, according to Huening, you weren’t someone who would fight with your friends. You were more someone who would fight for your friends.

He could hear all the people hooking up in the most public and odd places. Not that Yeonjun could say much, he used to do the same thing before he met you. He had actually had fun doing similar antics with random girls he would meet at parties. He liked the thrill of potentially getting heard or even caught by someone else.

But he knew that, even if he was willing to look through the mortal danger he could end up putting you in, and even if he was willing to have sex with someone he cared for as much as he did you somewhere that could end up getting you caught and getting your scholarship revoked, chances of someone as shy and as anxious as you would never agree to doing something so daring. He wouldn’t have minded though.

At least he would have had the opportunity to be with you at all in the make believe realm the sounds around him constructed in his mind.

All the pining and internal pain he was feeling from his brain somehow finding a way to put you into his every thought on the situations around him was making him feel sick to his stomach.

Yeonjun wanted to go home and go to sleep already, at least he could dream about being with you. But no, he just had to come search for his alcohol intolerant brother.

Though just as the older boy was about to cut his losses and call it a night, figuring Hyuka would just have to wait for his fast metabolism to kick in and burn the alcohol out of his system to get home as a consequence of getting fucked up, he caught a whiff of an all too familiar yet enchanting aroma.

His heart sunk instantly in his chest and a whine instantly found its way out of his lips, much to the confusion of other party guests around him. What were you of all people doing at a college frat party?

You volunteered at the library because you thought it was a fun place to be. You tutored other students in your spare time because you wanted everyone to succeed. You were a straight A student on the dean’s list for heaven’s sake. You were too good and too innocent a person to be getting fucked up at a party.

Were you drinking? He didn’t feel any different than he normally did. Which meant you probably weren’t too drunk… right? Surely you wouldn’t have accepted a drink from a stranger. You would’ve known the dangers and the scary intentions behind the gesture…right? The thought of what could’ve happened to you if you were naive enough to take a drink from someone made his stomach crawl.

Had you come to the party alone? Were you meeting someone at the party? Were you seeing someone at the party? Is that why you came?

The imprinting bond wasn’t as strong for you, if you even felt it at all given the current state of his relationship with you. Meaning you were still able to date other people and feel something, unlike Yeonjun who now found no pleasure in other peoples company because he had imprinted on you. God he hoped you weren’t there to hook up with some guy.

He didn’t know what to think. A million questions ran through his mind at once, but two kept making themselves more prominent: were you alright? Were you being safe? Yeonjun had to know.

So against his better judgment, he started following your scent rather than looking for his brother. Which ended up working for the better anyways as he was sitting on the couch in front of you, lightly giggling as you kept asking him to take small sips of water.

And that’s when everything clicked. A huge weight felt like it had lifted itself from his shoulders. You were the voice on the phone earlier.

Huening must’ve called you to come and help him because he trusted you and knew you’d come. Yeonjun just hadn’t heard you speak English before as when you introduced when you first met, you introduced yourself to him in Korean to make him more comfortable.

You weren’t at the party getting wasted or getting with some random guy. You were at the party making sure his little brother was safe and well taken care of until he could be picked up.

He could hear you lightly giggling at Huening letting some of the water you were helping him drink fall down his chin. And he swore he would sell his soul if it meant being able to hear your beautiful laugh everyday for the rest of his life.

Yeonjun felt like he was on cloud nine. It was the first time he had been so close to you in what felt like forever and there you were being your usual loving and thoughtful self.

He felt such a rush of energy, in fact, that he hadn’t even noticed he had started walking to get closer to you until he noticed a girl come over and hand your shyly smiling form another bottle of water.

But not just any girl. It was a girl Yeonjun knew. She was a mate. He instantly recognized her as Cherry, Seungcheol’s, Beomgyu’s brother’s, mate. And she had ruffled Kai’s hair and left just as quickly as she had come over to hand you the water.

“Yeonjun-ah!” Huening squealed, making grabby hands at his older brother with a happy, albeit red, face, an action that had you turning around to look at him in return.

It was his first time being in front of you since the day Huening tried to introduce the two of you. He had thought that you’d hold a grudge at him for the whole situation. He thought maybe you’d hate him or call him names. Maybe even refuse to speak back to him or be blunt.

But the only emotion he saw from you was the light in your eyes going out as they widened in horror, mere moments before you dropped your grin and tilted your head down in what looked to be shame.

Yeonjun felt a knot twist in his chest. He knew you likely wouldn’t be happy to see him again, and he was prepared to deal with any angry or agitated remarks that you’d throw his way.

Though you didn’t end up being angry or agitated with him. You weren’t annoyed or holding a grudge. You didn’t pretend he didn’t exist or run away so you wouldn’t have to deal with him.

Seeing him made you feel sad. And that hurt him more than any words you could or any actions you could commit against him.

But you didn’t know that nor did he want to tell you that and make everything worse. So he nudged all the extra sweaty bodies away from him so that he could stand near you and his brother.

“Hi Ningning.”

————

You had just managed to get another sip of water in Kai’s mouth when you saw him. You knew he was coming, he had told you very aggravatingly over the phone that he would be coming to get your student from the party he had called you to so that you could help him.

And that was your original intent. You had received a call sometime after 11:00pm from your friend saying that he was drunk and needed help getting home.

Without question you put on the outfit you had already had laid out for the next day’s classes, grabbed your keys, and sprung into action.

You didn’t want anything to happen to him. You knew he was very shy and quiet normally. You didn’t know what drinking a bunch of alcohol in a room full of strangers would do to him. But you knew what they could do to him. And you weren’t going to let it happen. Not if you could help it.

But when you got there, you had very quickly realized that you had no way of getting him home. He was too drunk to be able to remember his address.

He had no real friends around him at the time that knew where he lived either. And you had never been to his house before because you had always met up at school or at food places to celebrate good test scores.

You would’ve just taken him back to your dorm rooms if there wasn’t a rule in place about opposite sexes not being allowed in the rooms after a certain hour. Sure some of your fellow classmates snuck boys into the girls dormitories all the time. But you certainly weren’t one of them.

Doing such a thing was against the rules and you were an avid rule follower. And if your moral compass wasn’t enough to deter you, the clause in your international student contract that stated you could lose your scholarships if you were caught with a boy in your room while on campus was.

But even if you were truly able to get over all the internal alarm bells in your head that told you under no circumstances could you do such a thing for your friend, you had no idea how you would even do it.

He was so drunk he couldn’t stand straight. He was giggling and laughing and on the verge of vomiting every other second. He was worse off than your kaka was when you and your baba had to drive to get him and bring him home for the weekend during his first week at university. There was no way you could easily and quietly sneak him in your dorm without the entire building finding out.

So that left you with one last choice: phoning a friend. And, since you knew none of the people who did actually associate themselves with you knew where he lived either, you had to resort to phoning one of his friends.

You just weren’t sure which one. You figured you could try Soobin or maybe even Taehyun since they both lived with him and were friends with him, you weren’t even gonna consider Beomgyu because they’d both end up needing help in the end anyways, but Kai insisted they couldn’t help because they were busy.

In fact, when you listed off other people in his small contact list on his phone, he said most of them were. The only one that wasn’t just so happened to be Choi Yeonjun, the guy that hated you for just breathing.

And while you hated that you’d end up embarrassing yourself talking to him again from sheer nerves alone, you also knew that Kai should be at home in his bed sleeping the alcohol off so he didn’t get himself hurt.

Which is why you ended up calling the popular boy to begin with. Which you could tell he definitely wasn’t happy with given his oh so loving ‘what the fuck do you want’ attitude over the phone.

Which of course made you frazzled and panicked, even though you logically knew he was probably only saying such things because it was so late and he thought his friend was calling him.

So you resorted to speaking English to him over the phone, not thinking that he may not even be able to understand your accent or know the English language at all.

He seemed to understand, at least enough, because he was presently sat in front of you, chastising the younger boy for getting so drunk.

“Hyung, that’s not fair!!” A very child like Kai crossed his arms loosely over his chest, “It’s my birthday. I’m allowed to do what I want to do and no one should be able to stop me.”

While the small smile that had managed to find its way back to your face again at the boy’s cute antics did help you feel a little less uneasy over the situation, you still felt a range of emotions, almost all negative, that you weren’t sure how to handle.

You felt bad for your friend and for not being able to do more by yourself to help him. You felt ashamed for having to call Yeonjun, someone who quite literally hated your very existence for some unknown reason, to come and get him in the dead of night.

You felt guilty for having probably woken the older boy up from his sleep and for forcing him to speak with you when he clearly didn’t want to.

But mostly, you felt like you wanted to curl up in a ball in your room to cry again. You weren’t even sure why. You weren’t good at pin pointing your emotions, you just knew the way the elder boy acted felt like he shoved a knife through your chest. And, though it had been a little over a month since your last and only real interaction with him, the meeting had been replaying over and over at the front of your brain nearly every minute of the day since.

“Just because it’s your birthday doesn’t give you the right to inconvenience people Ningning.” Yeonjun rolled his eyes and grabbed Kai’s face, making him drunkenly follow his finger to see how far gone he was before letting his chin go and thumping him a little too hard on his head in annoyance.

Not that your friend seemed hurt by it anyways, it didn’t seem to phase him at all really. He actually found it funny and stuck his tongue out at him in defiance.

As the two went back and forth about who was wronged and who wasn’t, you somehow found the courage to move your gaze from your fingers to the party boy’s face.

How could somebody with such delicate features, no doubt handpicked by god himself, be so terrifyingly intimidating? Why did you have to think he was attractive? Why did he have to hate you? Why did life always seem to throw things your way it knows you have no way of getting through by yoursel-

Your thoughts were swiftly interrupted by the pretty boy, who’s piercing stare went from looking at his friend angrily to staring at you with… a look you couldn’t quite place as he spoke again, “Yeah well i’m sure ____ wasn’t too happy about having to drop everything to come help you either.”

Your eyes widened, not wanting to upset either of the two boys as Kai was trying to sober up enough to walk through the crowd of people blocking your way to the exit without having to be carried out.

He had said your name. He remembered your name. You had always hated your name. Back home, everyone acted as if it was too foreign to pronounce. It always sounded like they were pronouncing it with razor blades stuck to the roof of their mouths. But it was the first time you had heard it come out of his mouth and it flowed so smoothly and so melodiously that you wanted it to be the only thing he said ever again.

“N-No!” You stuttered rather quietly for someone trying to have a conversation at a frat party, yet still managing to bring both their attentions straight to you, “I-I mean, I didn’t really- It’s not that I um…”

You noticed that, while Yeonjun had started to look at you with some much earned confusion, your friend began festering a devilish look in his eye and a mischievous smile.

You hadn’t told Kai what you had thought of his roommate, and you didn’t plan to. But part of you had begun to think that he may have caught on somehow.

And another part of you had begun to wonder whether or not your current meeting with Yeonjun had been part of some plan to get you to speak to each other again considering it was all he had been talking about the last few weeks.

“I-I didn’t have to drop much to come,” you finally managed to get out, “I w-was just at my dorm. And Kai’s my friend. I-I didn’t want anything to happen to him.”

The two men in front of you dropped any previous faces they had. At first you start to think that perhaps they were getting thrown on by your stress induced stutter you had worked so hard over the years to cover.

But as time went on and no one said anything, you realized the reason they went silent was because they hadn’t been expecting such a sincere reply from you.

Though how were you supposed to know what they wanted you to say or how they wanted you to act? It wasn’t as if situations such as the one you found yourself in were common for you. You hadn’t ever even been to a college party before Kai called you asking for help.

You didn't drink or smoke, the smell of alcohol made you physically nauseous and you steered clear of cigarettes because you had asthma. You didn’t party, you were always taught that education was more important and should always take priority. And you definitely didn’t have friends to joke around with. So you didn’t have a frame of reference on how to properly reply to people.

“Hey Huening? You feeling any better? Or am I gonna have to carry you back to that god awful Kia Carnival?” Yeonjun joked, clearly only wanting to lighten the mood.

But your face started to heat up and you dropped your head down slightly, trying to help your very unstable friend stand so that he could get to his vehicle.

“Uh Hyung,” Kai slurred, finally getting to his feet as the older boy dove to put his arm over his shoulder so he could walk with support, “That’s not a very nice thing to say about ____’s car hyung.”

Your eyes widened, but you kept them straight as you stayed on his opposite side so he could safely move through the crowd of people without falling.

You shouldn’t have been surprised. You already subconsciously figured someone like Yeonjun would never agree with the way you lived your beige lifestyle.

Your schedule was as predictable as your responses. Your grades were as perfect as your attendance and your cookie cutter wardrobe. So it only made sense that your car was as bland as the rest of your life choices.

Someone like Choi Yeonjun lived life on the edge. He drank and smoked and partied. He never attended his classes or cared much about his grades. He drove a cool motorcycle and wore leather. He lived a fast paced lifestyle that you just… didn’t.

Part of you wished you could. That you could throw all your ambitions and scary thoughts to the back of your head and live a hectic lifestyle. But that wasn’t your life. You were bland and boring by most people’s standards. And so was your car apparently.

But it was a car you felt you could drive in a foreign country with little to no worry about your safety. It made you feel comfortable and that’s all that mattered to you. So you truly didn’t regret purchasing it.

It was just a little embarrassing that someone so popular and wild decided to say such a thing about it out loud.

Yeonjun scoffed at him in return, “Huening I know you’re drunk off your ass right now, but let’s try not to put words in my mouth. I was talking about Soobin’s ugly car.”

“____ has a Kia Carnival too.” Your friend defended you, even though you just secretly wished you would’ve been swallowed whole by the dancefloor you were walking on.

You hadn’t planned on saying anything. You were actually internally praying Kai wouldn’t either. But you should’ve known better.

He was drunk and said what he was thinking out loud when he was sober already. Of course he’d still do the same while he was drunk off his ass. And of course it would be you of all people he’d defend out loud to his friend who he thought was making a personal dig at you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could vaguely make out Yeonjun’s own fox eyes becoming bigger in surprise to Kai’s response.

“Oh shit- Wait! I didn’t mean to say shit I mean I- I’m sorry ____!” Yeonjun swiftly let out, saying your name in a way that made your stomach do backflips, “I- I didn’t mean it in a bad way!” He insisted, nearly dropping his roommate in an attempt to get his point across to you by facing you, something that confused you greatly.

His tone sounded almost… apologetic. What was he sorry for? Why would he care if he offended you or not when he hated you?

The popular boy didn’t even care enough to give you basic human decency the last time you had met. So why did he seem so startled at the realization that he could’ve potentially hurt your feelings by making fun of the model of your car?

All you could think to do was shake your head to hide your blush, “Don’t worry about it. I hear stuff like that all the time from the students I tutor all the time.”

Then once more from your peripheral vision, you could have sworn you saw Yeonjun’s face fall into an emotion you could only place as guilt.

Part of you wanted to ask if he was okay. Part of you also wanted to ask what was wrong with him. But you didn’t. You figured it wasn’t your place. You were a stranger to him.

Instead, you helped walk Kai back to his car with his friend, the only sound being made by anyone coming from the younger boy’s mouth.

“Uh guys? I think I’m gonna be sick.”

(Edit: 5/24/2024)

[unbreakabledawn]

WIP Wednesday - Superbat edition: “Tidal Lock”

i survived ✨exam szn✨ and i'm excited to Sleep and Write (hopefully). “Tidal Lock” (tentative title) is a multi-chapter Superbat fic that sees Bruce and Clark in the start of their newly established romantic relationship. dating is hard enough on its own, not to mention the added difficulty of vigilantism, hero work, and all the other intricacies of Bruce Wayne’s and Clark Kent’s complex lives. these two lovesick idiots are very determined to make it work, though. it goes pretty well. maybe too well? due to to some unforeseen complications they have Kryptonian biology to thank for, Bruce and Clark have to deal with more than they bargained for.

i hope to to start posting soon, BUT i really think it would benefit from a second/third set of eyes first, so if this fic sounds interesting to you and you’d like to beta (no prior experience needed) or you’d like more info before deciding, please let me know! my DMs are open here or i can be reached on discord @ ziranos

(fic excerpt at 1k words, rated T for references to canon-typical violence)

Frankly, it had been the best first date of Bruce Wayne’s life, though he regrets the circumstances that had led up to it. Because if it hadn’t been for Clark’s near-death experience, they might not ever have made it to a first date. It was not the first time he had nearly died, or the second, or the third—Bruce has lost count at this point, but it is undoubtedly the closest he’d been in recent memory. Which is a little absurd when you consider that Clark had actually and literally died once, but they had been so young then, not as close, and too dumb. And Clark had come back, that was an important detail to remember. 

Bruce had probably been harsher than he should have been, swearing and yelling where he had leaned over Clark, both hands at the kryptonite knife in his chest. It was a serrated blade, and he knew for every second he hesitated the mineral was seeping into Clark’s body, killing his cells with painful intensity. The knife was wickedly sharp and cut through the gauntlet when he gripped the blade with one hand and the handle with the other, to pull it out as straight as possible. 

It had torn an agonized scream from Clark’s lungs, wet from the blood in his throat and mouth, when Bruce yanked the knife out in one swift and sure motion and tossed it as far away as he possibly could. He pressed against the hole in Clark’s chest to staunch the bleeding from the wound that was already trying to close—the only vaguely fortunate thing about that hellish day had been the weather and the merciless rays of the sun bearing down upon them in the middle of the ruined street in uptown Metropolis. But Clark still needed the kryptonite residue rinsed from his system and to be put in a sunbed as fast as possible.

Clark was coughing up blood, delirious from K-exposure and his unfamiliarity with pain, weakly trying to lift a hand to where Bruce’s hands pushed at his chest, smeared with both their blood. The biohazardous implications were lost on him because he had, for the briefest moment, thought that this was it, that this was the last time he’d see the life in Clark’s eyes and hear the breaths in his chest, as much as they struggled.

But Clark was as stubborn at living as he was at everything else. After he’d been cleared from the medbay, their argument had been as vicious as it was habitual, something about unnecessary risks and recklessness. Bruce had said a lot of things, none of which he could remember, because he had felt Clark’s blood grow dry and tacky on his ruined gloves and on the exposed skin of his fingers before he could wash it off, and he couldn’t hear his own voice over the memory of Clark’s panicked breathing and the gurgle of blood in his throat.

Later that night, he’d gone to Clark’s apartment to apologize. Instead, he’d yelled at him, kissed him, and asked him out (not necessarily in that order). Clark had inexplicably said yes and kissed him back. Bruce was a little fuzzy on the details. That might have been the kissing, or he might just have been losing his mind a little.

He never did apologize. Maybe he should. At the time he’d been blinded by the fear of almost having lost Clark, so struck by the realization that he could not actually go another fucking second without Clark knowing how Bruce felt about him, without having him. Because if Clark had died, he’d have died without knowing, and Bruce would have had to live the rest of his life with the crushing regret of everything that he now knew he could have with him.

And here’s Clark now, sneaking in through the window of Bruce’s office like some teenager past curfew, clad in creased red plaid and with his hair tousled by flight, arms full of—pie forms? He glides over to press a kiss to Bruce’s temple, followed by a waft of cinnamon and caramelized sugar. There’s the smell of baked apples and spices he recognizes as Martha Kent’s apple pie recipe.

“What is that?” Bruce says, trying not to be too obvious in staring at the exposed skin above Clark’s collar and the way the muscles of his throat flex when he pulls away and straightens.

“Dessert. It’s called pie. Hello to you, too.”

“Alfred’s cooking, you didn’t need to bring anything.”

“Yes, Alfred is cooking for a near dozen people, most of which are at peak physical condition. I asked him if I could bring anything, because I am a nice dinner guest. Well, I first asked if I could help cook, and he very politely told me to stay out of his kitchen.”

That does sound like Alfred, and Bruce’s alarm rapidly increases. “Since when do you and Alfred talk behind my back.”

“Hmm. How long have you and I known each other? I’ll go drop these off downstairs,” he says, a sunny smile on his face, before disappearing out the door.

What a worrying development. Bruce is not at all interested in learning about the combined capabilities of those two. He should go downstairs and intercept Clark, as soon as—

Bruce blinks down at his paperwork. He’s barely gotten through the first report, lost in thought as he’s been. Well, they’re papers, they’re not going anywhere.

Especially not when Clark reappears in the doorway, relaxed and casual in the way he’s obviously casing Bruce like a particularly enticing appetizer. He strolls over, keen gaze pinning Bruce to his chair.

“Dinner will be a while,” Clark says and spins Bruce’s chair around so he can lean over him with his hands on the armrests. “I have a few ideas on how to pass the time.”

“Do you, now,” Bruce says, appreciating the slow smile that spreads across Clark’s face, a smile that widens to full radiance once Clark hears what Bruce’s heart does at the sight. He leans in with a kiss that tastes sweet in a way that has nothing to do with Martha Kent’s pie, warm and soft against Bruce’s mouth.

“Lock the door and tell me about these ideas of yours,” Bruce murmurs.

[transformersbrainrot]

MegOp is making me crazy as usual, but now I have some new, specific inspiration!

So it started with @that-fanperson-meg saying this under a post I made about the Transformers account posting a TFO MegOp edit.

I recognized the name of the song but had never actually listened to it, and hooooo boy, it activated something in the part of my brain that thinks about MegOp... So, I'm listening to this song, and I have the clearest vision that it's about Megatron's mindset/thoughts during his mental health's lowest point in the worst depths of the war. (fair warning, my analysis/brainrot is based on my own personal continuity/au, so there are some minor references to that, but it's all fairly standard, and I explain it a bit, so just go with it, and you shouldn't be confused.) Ok, preamble over. Time for the lyrical analysis:

I hope that our few remaining friends Give up on trying to save us I hope we come up with a failsafe plot To piss off the dumb few that forgave us I hope the fences we mended Fall down beneath their own weight And I hope we hang on past the last exit I hope it's already too late

Megatron assumes that Optimus is in just as bad of a place as he is. He's wrong, of course, OP certainly isn't enjoying himself, but he has an actual support system that he feels comfortable leaning on. On the other hand, Soundwave as the only thing even approaching a friend for Megatron (and he is waaay too closed off at this point to say so). Starscream is a backstabbing, power-hungry sycophant with his own heap of baggage (I really gotta make a post about my version of all that sometime); Shockwave is purely logic-driven as usual, only interested in advancing the Cybertronian race via the Decepticon cause. By this time, Megatron feels like both sides are too deep into the war to even consider peace. He honestly can't fathom it.

And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here Someday burns down And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away And I never come back to this town again in my life

Megatron has always wanted to escape the path that was decided for him. But now, after losing what he and Orion had and the resulting fallout, he won't go quietly into the night, not before causing some irreparable damage first. And the war will do just that. He hopes the destruction the great war causes keeps pushing him forward, even out beyond Cybertron. At least then, he won't ever need to face the past and who he used to be. He couldn't recognize himself now if he tried, so he doesn't.

I hope I lie And tell everyone you were a good wife And I hope you die I hope we both die

Even though he thinks it's clear they hate each other and are not good for each other, Megatron still has some form of loyalty to what he and Orion had. If somehow, someday, someone were to ask him about them, he wouldn’t tell them about all their problems, but instead that they were good together. Maybe if this hypothetical future version of Megatron doesn't mention all the pain their split caused, then maybe it was a little less real. He knows that as long as Optimus is around, he won't be able to stop fighting; he's just too hurt and angry. He wishes Optimus would just die, that they both would.

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow I hope it bleeds all day long Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises We're pretty sure they're all wrong I hope it stays dark forever I hope the worst isn't over And I hope you blink before I do And I hope I never get sober

Soundwave, the only even semi-positive influence on him right now, is the one telling Megatron it's darkest before the sun rises. Soundwave is a true believer in the original cause of the Decepticons, probably the last one in High Command; everyone else is either using the cause as a means to take out their pain (Megatron and Starscream) or as a means to an end (Shockwave). Megatron is finding it harder and harder to believe Soundwave with each passing day, and yet again assumes Optimus is doing the same. He's starting to hope it never ends. He's comfortable with it now; the war fills the hole that his old life left in him. All he really knows is that he can't bring himself to yield to Optimus and doesn't think he ever will. If he did, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

And I hope when you think of me years down the line You can't find one good thing to say And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out You'd stay the hell out of my way

Megatron is hoping that Optimus is suffering too, since he is, and doesn’t want him to feel anything positive through this since he cannot. But at the same time, he’s trying so hard to be a bastard so that it won’t hurt as much. He does still want to speak well of their past if he gets the chance, so some loyalty or fondness remains deep down. If there were good times to look back on, there would be sadness that those times are over. If Optimus has nothing good to say about him, all he would feel is relief that that part of their lives is over.

I am drowning There is no sign of land You are coming down with me Hand in unlovable hand And I hope you die I hope we both die

Megatron can't see any way out of where he's gotten them. To him, there's no path to peace anymore. The only solace Megatron can find is the hope that Optimus falls with him. Even now, the two of their fates must be interlocked, as if it were a universal constant to him - simple common sense. He just wants it to be over, even as he can't bring himself to stop.