#Big Bang fic

[englandamericaitaly]

BIG BANG TIME!!!

You can read my fic here!!

And you can find the wonderful art for it here!!!

After moving to Gotham for work, Jazz is in for a rude awakening. Not about the crime or the people or even the sad state of the city, oh no. She expected those. What she didn't expect is that every single time she ends up getting mugged or attacked or stuck in a situation because of Gotham Being Gotham, she just doesn't seem to get any chance to defend herself. And for a fully liminal person who has a constant itch to fight in her very DNA, that can lead to some interesting consequences.

[iboatedhere]

First of all, a huge thanks to all the mods @aroyallybigbangrwrb for putting this altogether. I can't imagine how much work it is to organize something like this. @geonbaeeee for the beautiful artwork which you can find in chapter two. I also need to thank @ad-astra13 & @luainthewild for jumping in the doc and being amazing cheerleaders. And, of course, thanks to @pragmatic-optimist for putting up with several voice messages, dozens of freak outs and 222 pages of words. Couldn't have done it without you.

--

Normally, Alex runs the one-point-three miles across Georgetown from his brownstone to the hospital, where he showers and changes in the locker room before grabbing his second coffee of the day and starting his shift.

Today, he only makes it two blocks before the gray skies open up, and he’s stuck in a deluge, seeking refuge beneath the neutral-colored awnings in front of the bougie boutiques that line M Street and dodging the spray from passing cars on his way to the bus stop.

He’s soaked by the time he makes it there, his moisture-wicking running top taking all it can handle and his hair plastered to his forehead.

There’s a crowd of people huddled beneath the shelter. Half of them give him apologetic smiles while the others stare blankly into the rain, and none of them make any move to give up their spot for him.

He wouldn���t take it anyway. It’s his own stupid fault for chancing it without even grabbing an umbrella or a hooded jacket.

“Lovely weather, isn’t it?”

Alex rolls his eyes and turns around. Behind him, Dr. Fox is standing beneath an umbrella, bone dry and dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, his hair perfectly styled, not a blond strand out of place.

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[eddiebabygirldiaz]

still the bone remembers, still it wants | eddie+wanting fic | 20k/146k | chapter 1/9 | read on ao3

The thing is, wanting has always been easy.

The thing is, wanting has always been so hard.

or, eddie goes to therapy and learns how to want. buck helps.

snippet:

Eddie looks at Frank head-on, painfully aware of the weighty, purple bags under his eyes and the hunch of his shoulders and the bleak sensation of being lost that is probably stretched across his face, and he runs Frank’s question through his head once more.

What do you want?

It sounds a lot like What are you afraid of? even if the voice is less cherished and a different tenor, even if the question is lacking that particular brand of Buckley care that feels like you are being handed pieces of sunlight. The intention of it is the same, the gentle dig of it into the soft fleshy bits of himself that Eddie has worked so hard to keep hidden and is now working so hard to uncover, well, that’s the same too.

Eddie was honest with Buck, and he thinks he can be honest with Frank. He thinks he might even want to.

“I don’t know.”

read the rest on ao3

[indelibleme]

Chapters: 1/7 

Fandom: Detective Conan                Rating: T

Relationships: Kudou Shinichi/Kuroba Kaito

Summary: Celebrities don’t interest Kudo Shinichi. He comes from a family of celebrities; in fact, he is a minor celebrity himself. But the one living next door seems to get into one too many shenanigans for his peace of mind. Which really wouldn’t be an issue, if the latest one didn’t happen to involve a dead body.

Or, in which Kaito goes from being darling of the entertainment media to scourge of the internet in no time at all, hounded by paparazzi, only to find solace in the utter indifference of his neighbour… until he gets involved in a murder.

...

Finally, here is chapter 1 of my fic for this year’s @kaishinbigbang 2024!!

The art from which this fic was inspired by was made by the wonderful artist @bakathief!! Please check it out HERE! Go show it some love!!

...

(Excerpt under the cut)

...

Kaito tried to protest—

“Hold on, you’ve got this wrong! I didn’t even know he was dead until you told me just now! Hey, hey—stop, it’s not me!”

—but they didn’t deter them at all. Kaito breathed in desperately, panic creeping into his voice as he looked around for help. Murder? Arrested? He didn’t need to know what the percentage of acquittals were in their country to guess the outcome! And for the police to make an arrest, for there to be evidence backing this up—

“Matsuoka-keibu? What’s going on?”

Kaito’s head snapped up at that voice. Turning the curb from where the patrol car was parked, like a beacon of light piercing through stormy clouds, was none other than Kudo Shinichi.

[j-a-nuary]

Date Roulette: Jiyong

Wednesday

Intro Week Start

Seungri Week Start

Daesung Week Start

Taeyang Week Start

Seunghyun Week Start

Jiyong Week Start

Previous

Next

=====

Warning level: suggestive

=====

Seunghyun had refused. He refused a lot of things. The only thing that I was truly annoyed with however was his refusal to tell me about how his conversation with Jiyong had gone last night. I knew that Jiyong wouldn't be able to resist telling me all about it though. He'd probably start by acting like I'd personally betrayed him too.

Such were the vague thoughts circling through my slowly waking mind.

But then I was pulled against a bare chest, and a hand started tracing up my side. His fingers skimmed along my skin, leaving the faintest touches behind like ripples.

I hummed, enjoying the attention washing over me.

The hand paused.

I made a whining noise in my throat.

The hand landed firmly on my hip, a throaty chuckle sounding behind me as lips met the skin on the back of my shoulder.

"You're awake."

It wasn't exactly a question, so I didn't exactly answer it.

Instead I turned, maneuvering so I could swing one leg over Seunghyun's hip. I ran my hand through his hair, stopping to grip the hair at the back. I directed his mouth to my own.

He laughed, letting a few kisses lane before turning onto his back.

I tried to follow him, such as it was, but he held me off.

"Hyun…" I whined, nuzzling against his shoulder.

"Baby, I have to leave before everyone gets up."

=====

Seunghyun slipped back out of the glass doors, trying to avoid the cameras in the hall. Somewhere, deep in my stomach, a stone dropped into the previously calm water. A feeling like shame rippled outwards, threatening to spill out.

I'm being kept secret.

I resisted the thought, deciding to get up and see what today's plan was.

As soon as I stood, I was taken over by dizziness. I immediately sat back down. Glancing around, I spotted the wine glasses that had been left on the vanity. I took a minute to steel myself before slowly making my way to the vanity. Lifting both glasses, I felt myself sway slightly.

It took another rest at the vanity, a second sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, four wine glass-fulls of water, and a round of catching up on texts before I could rouse the ability to get dressed.

From: Hugeboy I was thinking about you~ From: Hugeboy I keep thinking about you (♡◇♡) From: Hugeboy It makes me want to text you |ω･) From: Hugeboy You're always so busy (´Д` ) From: Hugeboy I'll see something and want to send you a picture but I feel like I'm bothering you orz

There were a few messages from Soo-ah as well. They were mostly a series of links to apartment listings, but she also included a photo of herself visiting Ttungbo in the kennel.

I spotted an expensive pair of sneakers sticking out from the bottoms of some baggy jeans behind her. There was no doubt in my mind that they belonged to Bobby.

=====

"Glasses day?"

I groaned, hoping the tone was enough to answer Daesung's question. Shuffling to the breakfast bar, I posted up on one of the stools and bent forward to lay on the counter.

"Ay, bendita…" a hand gently patted my hair, "drink too much last night?"

I turned my head so I could blink up at Daesung.

"What?"

He gave me a smile before turning towards the fridge. Opening the door, he bent at the waist as he spoke up again.

"Taeyang mentioned that he thought you and Jiyong went for drinks or something. Said," he stood up and turned towards me, a small hangover drink in hand, "you were acting weird. Here."

He cracked the seal, opening the bottle before placing it on the counter next to me. Task done, he turned and started opening cabinets.

I struggled to decide which end of the conversation to tackle first. A phrase about eating frogs floated through my mind.

Pushing myself to sit up, I pulled the drink closer.

"What else did Taeyang say?"

I chugged the bottle, hoping it would somehow soften whatever was said next.

He hummed, pulling a pan out and clicking the range on.

"That you seemed glad to be interrupted."

How diplomatic. I set the now empty bottle aside, leaning forward onto my elbows.

"He's not wrong."

I picked at my nails, not really wanting to go much further. Still, I knew it was somewhat unavoidable. The proximity of everyone, the nature of people… it would probably be better to just have a conversation than to let things get all clouded and smoky with assumptions and half…

Smoky.

My nose twitched.

Looking up, I saw Daesung standing in front of the stove top. He was staring at the pan in front of him, but obviously not seeing it.

"Dae," I called him quietly.

No response.

"Daesung." I was more firm this time, "the butter."

He shook his head, coming back to himself.

"Shit," he grabbed the pan and lifted it off of the range. He set it aside, onto an unlit section, before turning to face me.

I shook my head, "turn that off."

"Right," he turned back and fumbled with the knob until the flame disappeared. Kitchen no longer in danger of burning down, he set his sights back on me.

Thus commenced the staring match. I was willing to let it stretch as long as possible, but I could see him getting twitchy after a few seconds.

Sighing, I leaned back on the barstool.

"Just ask, Dae."

"What happened with Seungri?"

I stared at him. Did he really not know? And what was the point in knowing?

After a moment, I shook my head.

"Ask something else."

Daesung had the decency to look ashamed. He nodded to himself for a moment before taking a breath to speak.

"Did Jiyong…" he paused, apparently struggling to come up with the right words.

"It's not the same," I interrupted him, "it's more… just… confusing."

"Confusing," he echoed me.

"If I could explain it, I would."

Shaking his head, he turned back towards the stove.

"You don't have to explain," he pulled paper towels from the cupboard and started cleaning the burned butter from the pan. "As long as he didn't… hurt you."

I tried to decipher the vibes of the kitchen. He didn't sound too upset. That was part of it but he was being cautious too - understandable, given the topic.

I didn't exactly want to contribute to what I was interpreting as him being concerned, but I also didn't want to keep everything to myself.

"Not physically anyway," I said it quietly, giving him the option of pretending he hadn't heard, "and not on purpose, I think."

Daesung sighed, shoulders slumping. He kept his attention on the food he was preparing this time when he spoke.

"That doesn't exactly inspire confidence, pet."

I shrugged, laying down to once again press my cheek onto the cool stone of the counter.

"This is just how I have to live for now."

I let my eyes close, warding against the building ache in my head and slight nausea that was creeping its way through my gut.

Daesung let me indulge in the self-soothing that was laying on the counter in silence. I listened to him move around the kitchen, soaking up the sounds and smells of his breakfast. Sizzling, crackling, tapping, scraping… I didn't have the neurological predisposition towards ASMR, but this must have been pretty close.

A distinctly ceramic dragging sound and slight thunk sounded like it was directly next to my head.

"Eat."

I peeked a single eye open. My sight was greeted by a plate of toast. Not just any toast though. Daesung had cut the center out of the bread and fried it with an egg. I closed my eye again, smiling.

"You're wonderful," I mumbled as I forced myself to sit up. "A delight, even."

=====

"Do you mind if I just…" I indicated the mouse in the staffer's hand.

She nodded, rolling her seat back a little to make room.

"You're familiar with it?" She asked.

"I'm more familiar with CAD," I mumbled, focusing more on the screen in front of me, "but SketchUp is fine."

"I thought you were an accountant."

I swapped the sofa and loveseat for a sectional and a shelf, creating a half wall to clearly define the spaces for eating and lounging.

"After I switched majors, yeah."

She fell silent, her assigned purpose for the day made obsolete.

The idea for this experiment was to test compatibility through interior design. I thought that's what it was anyway. We were each paired with someone who understood the software, given a blank rendering of an apartment, and told to fill the digital space to our liking.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if there was another date on the line. They hadn't really thrown something like that in since the musical with Seunghyun. Had it not scored well with test audiences?

"Ugh," I couldn't stop the sound from exiting my mouth.

"Something wrong?"

I looked at the staffer, brain drawing a blank on how to explain the noise away.

"Oh," I was not off to a great start. "I just… um…"

"The color? Here," she rolled closer and took the mouse back. She shot me a brief smile as she moved. Conspiratorial, almost. Knowing.

I gave her a smile that was half grimace. Why was she covering for me? Was it a skill that all entertainment staff had? Or was it that often mysticalized feminine bond?

"Do you often work like this?"

She glanced up at me, quickly settling her eyes back on the computer screen.

"Not really," she tilted her head, making a few adjustments to the furniture on screen. "This is my first time, actually. What do you think?"

She indicated the screen.

I was blasted with dusty pink shades to go with the green options I had chosen. I made an effort to reign in my facial expression.

"Maybe a cream color instead?"

She nodded, and turned back to make the change.

"So what sort of work do you usually do?" I asked.

It was nice, talking to a normal person for a moment. I didn't have to fake my curiosity, or cover up what I already knew.

A bit of musical theater popped into my head.

Getting to know you. Getting to know all about you.

"-artments for rich types."

Shit. I had totally spaced out on her answer.

"What about you?" She asked.

"Oh," I shrugged, "I mean… I was doing the teacher thing for a while."

She let a small laugh out through her nose. I couldn't tell if it was in derision or just because of how common of a story it was.

"Stereotypical, right?" I joked.

Another nose laugh.

"But I finished studying and taking the KICPA test while I was doing that. So now…" I shrugged, "I'm not really sure."

"That's pretty specific," she replied, "how can you be unsure? Like this?"

I looked at the screen again. This time I was met with a much more calming, to me anyway, color pallette. Deep greens, warm creams… something out of a young adult novel about elves.

"I like it."

"Picasso."

We both broke down in giggles at that.

=====

Apparently, Seunghyun and I shared a "sense of movement." At least, that's what the expert said.

The six of us sat in an office, being shown each others' designs, while a not-quite-yet-elderly man explained the ways I was similar - or dissimilar - to each of the boys.

Daesung and I both had designed spaces that looked a bit like hobbit holes. Both of us shared an affinity for books and something like organized clutter. Where I had plants, he had an aquarium, both being examples of bringing nature inside.

Seunghyun and I shared ideas about how to move through the space. We had all been given the same floor plan, so I had thought we would each design something fairly similar in that way. But apparently Seunghyun and I were the only ones who had lent much thought to what it would be like to physically inhabit the space.

Taeyang shared my affinity for plants, but that was just about the sum total of our matching. Where I had placed a bookshelf intended for board games, he had put an upright piano. I supposed that made sense.

Jiyong was clearly a minimalist, but we apparently both intended to host others in that imaginary apartment. His design was probably best described as being sterile, but accommodating. Extra seating in the dining area, that sort of thing.

Seungri's design… well…

If you had asked me to design a space intended to be secretly unwelcoming, I might have done something like his. He had a sideboard positioned in such a way that I could easily imagine guests bumping their hip on it as they passed. The entire thing was, in a word, haphazard. It may have just been because he didn't take the task seriously, but it unnerved me.

Where the expert saw a lack of design smarts, I saw an apartment that was built to keep guests off balance.

Maybe that was a less than generous way of thinking about it, but I didn't think so. Regardless, possibly for the sake of the cameras, the other boys teased him about his perceived shortcoming.

I declined to join in the "fun" with them. Maybe a month ago I would have teased him as well but, knowing what I knew now, I couldn't force myself to make light of it.

Instead, I just nodded, acting like the designer was offering some enlightening explanation. A treatise on the connection between personality and decorating.

"So, in conclusion," the man clasped his hands together for just a moment, "I'd say that you three…"

He gestured at Seunghyun, Jiyong, and Daesung in turn.

"... are the best matches for Miss Luna here. Just," he shrugged, "in different ways."

"We already knew that," Taeyang laughed.

"Did we?" Seungri asked.

I wanted to hit him. Good lord how I wanted to hit him and hit him and hit him and hit him and h…

"You don't agree?" The expert asked.

"I think opposites can attract each other," Seungri shrugged. He turned to me. He addressed me, directly, for the first time in… how long? Two weeks? Three?

"We got along pretty well at the beginning, right?"

Silence filled the room as I pointedly ignored him. I could feel his eyes on me. I could feel the others getting more and more tense. I saw the expert's eyes flicking about the room, landing on each of us briefly before moving to the next.

I chose to trust the editors to take care of it.

"That can be true," Jiyong finally broke the silence, "but some people can be too different."

"I don't think we're that different."

There was a smile in his voice - a smile that I refused to look to confirm. I didn't know what fucking game he was playing, but I refused to play it with him.

"Isn't that a contradiction?" Taeyang asked. "Saying opposites attract, and then saying you two are similar? What's this guy saying?"

Taeyang laughed. I couldn't be sure, but I thought it was a practiced sound - disingenuous, but not obviously so.

"The whole point of the exercise was to find compatibility," the expert reminded us. "If you're unhappy with the results, you should reflect on why it came out that way."

=====

An envelope was waved, a staffer announcing that there was another date on the line. Someone suggested I choose my favorite apartment design. Someone else said that would be too much like a spoiler for my final choice.

More suggestions, more rebuttals.

I backed out of the decision-making process, citing the aforementioned spoiler concern. Instead, I sort of… disconnected. Standing to the side, I was aware of the people around me. On autopilot, I rocked on my heels, waiting for a decision to be made.

In true Kpop reality television style, it came down to rock-paper-scissors.

Taeyang excused himself from the trial, saying it should only be the top three - as decided by the design expert. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I made a note to thank him for that. Not so much for removing himself, but for creating a situation where Seungri didn't really have the option to participate.

It took six rounds, but eventually, Jiyong approached me. He grinned, offering me his hand.

"It's fate," he winked as he said it.

I blinked, coming back to myself. I felt a bit like I was waking up - groggy.

"Is that it?"

The question came out quieter than I intended. My gut twisted briefly, a bit of self-loathing triggered by the demure sound of my own voice. Oh well. It would probably play well with some part of the audience.

He tilted his head, smile not faltering thanks to years of idol training. I could see it in his shoulders, though, his chest angling silently to put more of himself between me and the others.

"Of course, my love.”

=====

“I have to admit,” Jiyong said while waiting for his manicure to set, “I convinced production to switch what they had planned for the date.”

He had suggested that we go to a salon he knew to have a combination of getting ready and getting pampered.

“What had they planned?”

“The premier showing of that movie,” he paused, checking his nails. “I don't remember the name. The post-rebellion mega-corporation one.”

I nodded, ignoring the minor heat-spike of my own nails curing under a lamp.

“The one that people said looks like Black Knight, right?”

Jiyong hummed, “with Woobin? Yeah.”

I nodded, humming a small acknowledgment as I watched the nail technician apply starry stencils to my nails.

“Did you choose a color?” The technician asked.

“A deep pink would look good,” Jiyong suggested.

The technician stood, hand already reaching for the pink and red section of the display.

“I want green,” I called out.

The technician paused, glancing between Jiyong and me.

“Like an apple,” I insisted.

She still seemed unsure.

I grit my teeth to stop myself from saying something mean.

“That would be cute too,” Jiyong nodded.

Finally, the technician moved. She passed the reds, purples, and blues, coming to a stop where the greens and yellows were kept. Quickly selecting two bottles, she returned to her seat across from me.

“It's good that you two share tastes,” she commented. “Which one do you prefer?”

I blinked in the direction of the bottles, not fully absorbing the difference between the shades as I fought back a swirl of rage. I couldn't even pinpoint exactly which part of the interaction had annoyed me. The way Jiyong had spoken up - expecting his opinion to matter? The way the technician had clearly waited for him to approve of my choice? Sure, he had insisted he was paying, but these were still my nails. My nails, on my fingers. My body.

I realized I had been staring at the bottles for too long.

“The lighter one,” I decided just to be done with it.

“And for the accent nail?”

I actually did put a little bit of thought into that. I lifted a hand, looking over the stencils.

“You know those blush nails? Or aura?”

The technician nodded.

“That,” I laid my hand back onto the cushioned rest in front of me, “with the same green.”

=====

“How are you feeling?”

The manicures were done. I was sat in the passenger seat of a car that had previously thrilled me. But right now, it just annoyed me. It was ostentatious. It was meant to impress, and I had fallen for it.

“Fine,” my voice sounded empty, despite the overly practiced upward lilt.

“Good,” Jiyong busied himself with pulling out of the parking space, “I thought you might be tired.”

Here it is.

I was sure we had finally reached the point where he'd interrogate me about being with Seunghyun last night. The revelation of whatever they had discussed.

“I planned something a little quieter tonight,” he explained, “just in case.”

=====

I tried to ignore the semi-quiet of the restaurant. Jiyong must have done some form of reflecting on our past conversations because he at least didn't reserve the entire place. Still, it was clear that he wanted us to be alone. Thus, we had an entire room to ourselves.

I could tell from the layout that it was at least two sections. Perhaps three, depending on if the fireplace warranted its own division.

In light of everything I had come to know about Jiyong, I knew that this was probably the best compromise he could come up with. I, having repeatedly asked for normalcy, had the comfort of knowing there were other patrons elsewhere. He, wanting complete privacy, at least had the comfort of being out of view of the others.

“I feel like I should only whisper,” I whispered, “it feels like a library or something.”

Maybe I was playing up the naivete, but I knew the conversation was coming eventually. It was now my main mission to make it through the meal and back to the house while avoiding it.

Jiyong smiled. For a second, I saw the way he had looked at me while helping me get ready for the theater. The smile was all soft edges.

“Should we play a game?” He whispered back.

A thousand texts messages, cocky voices, and snapchats floated into one cohesive phrase in my mind.

If this motherfucker said twenty questions I would simply leave.

“What sort of game?”

His smile shifted somehow, going from soft to mischievous. I prepared myself to relive the cliche.

“Whoever stops whispering first loses.”

I glanced towards the decorative folding screen. behind it was the arched doorway that led to the bar and main entrance. The game was just stupid enough to appeal to me.

“What about when the waiter comes?” I asked, careful to keep whispering.

Jiyong pursed his lips, thinking over what sort of rules there should be. After a few seconds, he nodded.

“Okay,” he spoke even softer than before. “We must whisper when we're alone, but with others, we can speak normally.”

I nodded in agreement, “okay. Penalty for losing?”

Jiyong shrugged, “just a favor for the winner.”

I squinted at him. He looked only mischievous, not malignant. A puckish man that might play a joke but wouldn't full-on attack me.

I nodded.

“Okay,” I whispered.

=====

It was clear neither of us was planning on losing.

The meal passed quietly. The post meal drinks were near silent. The meandering walk around side streets was as hushed as a church.

“Are churches quiet?” I asked. Even my whisper sounded loud after an extended moment of silence.

“What?”

“I was just thinking that this is as quiet as being in church,” I shrugged, “but I don't go to church. So I don't know if that's true or not.”

He hummed, thinking it over before answering.

“It depends on the church,” Jiyong explained, “and what part of the service it is.”

That made enough sense. There were about four thousand different flavors of church. Some were bound to be silent.

I let maybe two more minutes of quiet pass before whispering again.

“I don't think either of us is going to give up on this bet.”

Jiyong stopped walking. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he was nodding slowly. He pursed his lips as he watched me stop and turn to face him.

“I think you're right,” he softly agreed.

“Should we call it a draw?”

Tilting his head, that mischievous grin spread across his face once more.

I squinted at him, waiting for his answer.

Staring at each other, I couldn't help but think of the silly editing that would no doubt happen for this moment. The thought made it difficult to resist glancing at the staff member holding a camera.

“No,” Jiyong whispered.

A split second later, he darted towards me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted. Spinning once, he set me down with a victorious look on his face.

“That's not fair!” I complained, “you surprised me! Squealing doesn't count!”

“But you're not whispering now either.”

“You cheated!” I forced myself back to a whisper as I protested.

“This would have gone on forever if I didn't do something.”

He leaned forward, tilting his head with that practiced cuteness that all idols have. Camera training on bold display.

Camera… right.

I pulled away from him, smoothing out my outfit.

“Alright,” I said. My normal speaking tone still sounded so loud, but I ignored that. “What do you want for winning?”

Jiyong hummed, dramatically drawing the droning sound on. He took a step away from me in the direction we had been walking.

“You didn’t have anything planned?”

He turned to face me again, holding his hand out towards me.

I paused, just long enough to make him speak up again.

“Hold my hand while we walk.”

“Is that your request?”

Jiyong laughed, dropping his hand for a moment while he shook his head.

“It is a request, but not my prize,” he lifted his hand again, “will you humor me while I think?”

=====

My hand was still in his when we arrived back at the house.

I went to drop the hold when we approached the door, which, of course, only spurred him to grip my hand tighter.

“Wait,” he tugged me back from the door, to the side of the front stoop with a little less light.

“What?”

The rest of the walk until now had been quiet. It had been nice. I had asked a few times about what he wanted, but he had only said that he was thinking and would tell me when we got back to the house.

And here we were.

Jiyong dropped my hand, but only so he could quickly unplug both of our lapel mics.

“Ji-yah…”

He shook his head slightly, fingers quickly tugging the batteries out of the mic-packs.

Once he was satisfied with our relative privacy, he turned to face me. He tucked both of my hands into his own. Clearly, he wasn’t above pleading.

“Sleep with me.”

I felt my face twitch, opening my mouth to say… something.

“Not like that!” Jiyong quickly defended himself.

I narrowed my eyes but waited for him to explain himself.

“I just mean…” a less confident man would have stammered, “like before.”

I thought back, remembering falling asleep on his chest at the hotel. It had been nice, feeling the rise and fall of his body as he breathed slowly next to me on those few nights. Still…

“We’ve talked about this.”

For a moment, just long enough to make it impossible to brush off as nothing, anger rolled over his face. His hands, still gripping my own, tightened.

I could feel the pace of my heart pick up, my nerves tingling with alertness. With fear. I opened my mouth, unsure what was going to come out.

“Oppa…”

It wasn't a word I used often. I knew that many men disliked the way it sounded on a foreigner's tongue and that some others liked it a bit too much. But at that moment, I only remembered that it was the only way I could break my ex out of his ramping anger. My chest tightened, waiting, hoping, for it to have a similar effect on Jiyong.

It did its work.

My hands were dropped, and that look on his face quickly transformed into a much more familiar one of regret.

“My love…”

“I'll go in first.”

I couldn't let him talk. He was too good at talking. I knew he was. Given the time to talk, he'd convince me. By appealing to pity, sympathy, or something else, he would convince me. So, I pushed past him and made my way inside.

=====

There were some bodies in the common areas of the house, but I didn't take enough notice of them to match them to names. Within thirty seconds, I was pushing my bedroom door shut and locking it for good measure.

Then there was nothing. My body still wanted to run, but there was nowhere else to go. This was the safest place that was immediately available. There was a locked door between me and everyone else.

I glanced at the sliding glass door.

Scrambling over the bed, not taking the two extra seconds to simply walk around it, I rushed to make sure that it was locked as well. For extra security, I pulled the curtains shut tightly.

One locked door in either direction. I was invisible.

It still didn't feel like enough.

Which was how I found myself, fully clothed, sitting in the center of the giant tub. It was empty. But the bathroom provided an additional locked door, and something about the tub created a feeling of security.

I pulled out my phone and stared at it. Soo-ah would answer, but would she understand? Mino would definitely answer and probably offer to come get me - regardless of if it causes more problems later on. Seunghyun… were we really close enough for me to call him about being scared of one of his members? Would Daesung be able to resist telling the others what happened?

Shaking slightly, I kept running through possible contacts for a few minutes before finally deciding.

The phone rang through to voicemail.

“Damn it.”

I hung up, slouching over until my head hit the bottom of the tub.

Who else? There had to be someone else that I hadn't thought of yet.

My phone rang, surprising me so badly that I fell over from my kneeling position. Without even looking at the caller ID, I picked up.

“Hello?”

“Who are we damning?”

[homerforsure]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Tagged by the stunning @mellaithwen and @try-set-me-on-fire

This is a little bit from my unofficial, please don’t hold me to any deadlines, big bang fic. A soft beginning before I angst it up.

In the dark, they settled into the sheets, each shimmying and stretching and fussing with the pillows until finally stilling, curved toward each other and just close enough to touch. The fan spun slowly overhead and the fridge kicked on behind the kitchen doors and Eddie grunted a little as he found the position that he wanted - all of it as familiar to Buck as the sounds of his own loft.

He ran his finger lightly down Eddie’s forearm and said, “You should wait until the afternoon.”

“For what?”

“To mow the lawn. So I can watch you.”

“It’s hot in the afternoon.”

“So are you.”

Eddie huffed a quiet laugh and reached over to dig his fingers into Buck’s side, tickling his ribs while Buck squirmed, trying to keep his voice from squeaking through the house, until he finally caught Eddie’s hand in his and pulled him close. Instead of trying to escape, Eddie let himself fall across Buck’s chest and Buck wrapped his arms around him.

“What do you have to do in the morning?” Eddie asked, his face buried in Buck’s hoodie.

“I have to go back to my place. I gotta water my plants and look for my board shorts.”

“They’re not in the bag in the closet?”

“No, I looked there.”

“The Jeep?”

“Uh-uh.”

“The backseat of the truck?”

“Yours and Christopher’s but not mine. I think I wore them home last time.”

A small, disgruntled noise vibrated against his chest and Buck laughed as he ran a hand through Eddie’s hair.

“I haven’t seen you all week,” Eddie said.

“Oh, three work days don’t count?”

“Not the same.”

Someone else might roll their eyes, but Buck knew what Eddie meant. Work was work and who they were there wasn’t the same as who they were here, tangled fingers and casual kisses. Their days off had been a blur of appointments; Eddie had chaperoned a field trip; Buck went to the dentist and babysat for Jee-Yun so Maddie and Chimney could have a night out. There wasn’t a day they hadn’t seen each other but there also wasn’t a day where they’d been able to savor it.

“It’s not,” Buck agreed softly. “I missed you too.”

Tagging: @princessfbi @bigfootsmom @devirnis @renecdote @godlightbuckley @gayhoediaz @rewritetheending @buckactuallys @sibylsleaves @thekristen999 @daffi-990 @glorious-spoon @pappelsiin @nymika-arts

[staceymcgillicuddy]

in the shape of a girl | art post

Word Count: 12,762 Archive Warnings: No archive warnings apply Rating:  Explicit Pairing(s): Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson Character(s): Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson Tags:  Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Art school, Nude modeling, Artist Eddie Munson, Meet-cute, Fluff and smut, Cunnilingus, Vaginal sex, Post-coital cuddling, For once Jason is not the villain, It's some random guy Chrissy married and divorced, Chrissy Cunningham has a crush on Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is soft for Chrissy Cunningham Summary: Eddie hadn’t thought about Chrissy in years. Then she walked out from behind that screen and stripped out of her robe as if she’d been doing it all her life, at which point he realized he’d never actually known her at all. Beta Reader: Not on Tumblr, but all credit to BK who has been beta-ing for me since the before time, in the long long ago :) Fantabulous art by @artgroves (Both characters have a nipple out in their respective pieces, use your own SFW judgment, friends) Fic by @staceymcgillicuddy

[living-la-vida-lesbian]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

so! the batfamily big bang this year started in may. and now, three months later, i have a full grown 20k word fic to share with you all!! it's basically a steph brown character study and i think it's pretty good me personally. this is probably one of the less professional posts related to the bbb i fear but it's okay. hopefully. remember to read the tags before the fic because there is a lot of angst,, also it's not comic accurate please don't expect it to be comic accurate lmao

anyways thank you so much to my lovely team @writergeek, @pup-pee, and @azurendays!! you all are sososo awesome :D

anyway, if this sounds interesting, give it a read and also check out other fics from the @batfam-big-bang! everyone there is wonderful and great at writing and drawing and betaing and all that fun stuff! yeah! bye bye for now :)

[queenofmoons67]

Title: There Are No Ostrich Horses In Ba Sing Se

Relationships: Zuko/Sokka; Sokka & the Gaang; Zuko & Iroh

Warnings: None

AO3 Tags: Animal Transformation, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Season/Series 02, Ba Sing Se, Zuko joins the gang early, POV Sokka, POV Zuko, Sokka-centric, Zuko-centric, Hurt Zuko, Protective Sokka, Dragon of the West Iroh, True Love’s Kiss

Notes:

Happy 2024 Zukka Big Bang!

I’m so excited to post this story. It’s a sequel to a one-shot I posted more than two years ago (and I do recommend you read that one first).

Thank you to: @zukkabigbang2024 for hosting this event, @enbymoomin for being an incredible beta and taking this fic to another level, and @ic3-que3n for bringing THREE different scenes to life!

Summary:

Sokka has been through a lot the last few days. He got separated from his friends, got into multiple fights, and had no idea his loyal ostrich horse was actually human until a certain prince jerkbender appeared on his lap. If the gods were kind, they’d give him a few days off, but the gods have never been kind to Sokka.

Aka, it’s a lovely day in Ba Sing Se, Zuko is (once again) a horrible ostrich horse, and that is (once again) entirely Sokka’s problem.

[annaizscribbling]

Welcome, to Come Into the Water. A Big Bang horror fic written by yours truly in conjunction with above art by @onthevirgeofdestruction, and beta reading from @remy-the-lemon-berry

The water flows unceasingly.

For Virgil, Truth is hard to find. It is lost in the sea of lies and secrets that have corrupted everything and everyone, it seems. There is nowhere to hide. Nowhere is safe. How can he move forward without a guiding light? Who will save him?

Mercifully, the water flows unceasingly.

Come Into the Water.

Or, Virgil finds truth in the form of a cave hidden deep in the back of the Mindscape. It sings a song to him, a song he would very much like to join.

Come Into the Water.

BUCKLE UP! if you don't know me for horror you sure are gonna now! This was a delight to write and a delight to share. It is oozing with symbolism, from the wildly obscure to the excitingly common. I poured so many hours of strange research and devious laughter to this fic. It is meant to be enjoyed however you please, but know there is always more to find, hidden in the references. There is so much here, and I will be as active as ever in my comments.

Ch 1.

Ch 2.

Ch 3.

Ch 4.

Ch 5.

Ch 6.

Ch 7.

Ch 8.

Ch 9.

Ch 10.

Ch 11.

Ch 12.

@tss-storytime

[doeeyeseddie]

wip wednesday

i was tagged by @capseycartwright and @homerforsure (thank you!!), so here’s some more words from my big bang fic!

“Can I help you with anything?”

“No, thanks, I’m almost done.” He looks at the book in his hand and puts it on the lower shelf of his cart. “How long do you have? So I know what to show you guys.”

“We can’t stay longer than six,” Eddie explains, “I gotta drop Christopher off at my abuela’s house before I go to work.”

“Oh, are– do you do shift work?”

“I’m a nurse,” Eddie says. “I’m mostly working nights right now because letting Christopher stay at my abuela’s overnight is easier for her than during the day, and I get more awake time with him.”

“That makes sense,” Buck nods. “It’s good that you have your grandma here, I–I know how hard childcare can be to find.”

“What does your wife do?”

“My wife?” Buck asks, confused, but doesn’t offer a correction either.

“Uh, sorry,” Eddie asks, and tries, “Your girlfriend? Partner?”

Buck’s still staring at him, uncomprehending, so Eddie says, “The woman who picked up Ellie the other day.”

i tag @clusterbuck @hattalove @bibibuck @littlespoonevan @shitouttabuck and @sibylsleaves if you want to!

[lululawrence]

Gemma's Dad (Could Use A Guy Like Me)

by lululawrence feat. artwork by @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | 14 Chapters | 83k

When Harry started heading directly towards where Louis was positioned and waiting, his eyes went wide and he stumbled enough that he completely let go of the handle, making the lawn mower choke and turn off completely, blanketing them in silence that felt heavy and loud.

“Hey,” Louis said, giving him a smile. 

Harry swallowed harshly and gave an almost pained smile before he nodded again.

A little confused about why Harry was behaving that way, Louis tried to push past it and said, “You know, I could always come over and mow your lawn for you whenever I mow ours. It’s probably going to be the only good physical activity I get this summer other than when I meet Zayn at the skate park.”

“Oh, yeah, well, I mean I’m pretty, uh, particular around my flower babies and all, and that is a lot of detailing to make sure everything is still able to be reached with the way they’re going to be growing.”

Louis licked his lips as he thought through everything Harry had just said in his response. It didn’t… really answer him, but he supposed it didn’t not answer him either. 

“Is.. that a no?” Louis asked with a smile while tilting his head in confusion. “I mean, I’m more than willing to watch out for your plants. I would never do anything to harm them, and I’m very good at mowing lawns. I did it enough for the grannies on our street growing up to know how to safely work around gardens.”

Harry started laughing, sounding a little hysterical. “I’m sure you have a lot of experience with that. I do remember how often you loved to show off the muscles you were building up with the various sports teams and things when you were on lawn duty.”

Again, his response didn’t really make much sense, and it didn’t really address Louis’ offer to mow his lawn now.

Still unsure how to respond, Louis just stood there, blinking at Harry, only moving to put his hand up to shade his eyes and allow him to read Harry’s expression a little easier. 

Harry’s eyes darted to him before almost immediately shifting away to something else as he moved his weight from foot to foot, acting almost like he was nervous and didn’t know how to behave. And that was weird, right?

“Okay, well, it was good running into you… urm, seeing you, I mean—” Harry shook his head and then quickly spit out, “Good job on your yard! See you again soon!” before he rushed back over to his lawn mower and restarted it, the loud sound of the motor picking up once more, leaving Louis only that much more confused.

Or a Stacy's Mom AU featuring lifelong best friends Gemma and Louis, but especially Gemma's dad, Harry.

Coming April 26th as part of @onedirectionbigbang!

Subscribe on AO3 to be notified when the fic is available!

[rowanellis]

Call for Interviewees: Fanfic Edition

Hello! I am a queer video essayist, currently in the research process of a video on FANFICTION!

I’m looking to interview:

- Writers of Big Name TM/popular fics

- Big Bang/similar community fic event organisers

 - Old school readers (e.g. 70s kirk/spock shippers)

- Anyone else with a particularly interesting/unique viewpoint of fanfic

If that’s you - please reach out at rowanellisyoutube@outlook.com with “FanFic Interview” in the subject line!

FAQ: Will this just be a video that sensationalises/demonises fanfic and makes it out to be a “weird internet thing”? 

Absolutely not.

I have been reading fanfic since I was about 12, I picked my literary agent partly because of her love and respect of fanfic, have made some amazing friends bonding over our favourite fic writers... this video is not going to be an outsider perspective looking in at a “weird internet thing”, but instead a deep dive based on the idea this is interesting and complex enough to analyse and study. 

I previously made an hour long video about the omegaverse, which hopefully shows the vibes - you can check it out here.

Here are some of the top comments:

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

still the bone remembers, still it wants | chapter 3/9 | 18k | read on ao3

The thing is, wanting has always been easy.

The thing is, wanting has always been so hard.

or, eddie goes to therapy and learns how to want. buck helps.

snippet:

And then, suddenly, there’s softness.

Softness that directly follows a violent crack and the slamming of wood. Softness that whimpers and treads close but not too close. Softness in the form of a large, bulking body made to be deceptively small. Softness in blue eyes and a wavering voice. Softness in a hand reaching out to comfort, to steady, to save.

Eddie would flinch back from it, but he’s too tired, aching from head to toe, sore beyond belief from every hit he made and all the sobs wracking through his body. He can only turn to Buck, who is crouched beside him and so blurry through Eddie’s tears that he’s almost convinced Buck isn’t real, but his voice calls out to Eddie and Eddie has to answer, he has to get this out of him.

“They’re all dead. Everyone that I saved. They’re all dead. ”

And then it bellows out in a chant he can’t stop, trembling like the shivers crawling down his spine, shattering the air between him and Buck like everything else that Eddie touches.

read the rest on ao3

[sammi-phoenix]

Out Of This World

Word Count: 11,459

No Archive Warnings Apply

Rating: Teen and Up

Pairing: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker

Characters: Peter Parker, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds, Ganke Lee, Miles Morales, Matt Murdock

Tags: Angst Hurt/Comfort Peter Parker Needs a Hug Peter Parker Drinks Red Bull and Cries Peter Parker in a different universe Multiverse Shenanigans Spider-Verse Big Bang 2024 Peter Parker sleeps on the floor of Miles Morales' dorm room Post-Movie: Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021) Peter Parker is a Mess

Summary: Spider-Man stood there, with his friends, before realising that the longer he stood there, the harder it would be to leave when they forgot.

Peter, perched on the barrier between the pathway and the unrelenting Hudson, waved, “Bye guys.” And he leapt.

Then it all went black.

- - - - Or a story in which Peter Parker is sent to Miles Morales' universe and finds a family there.

Beta Reader: Abbey (not on the internet at all)

Art: @the-real-pocket-egg's artwork Here

My other artist is @aquamaris

For @spiderversebigbang

[heartofspells]

This Way We Fall

"Moony calls you Padfoot."

It's not what Sirius expects his godson to say, and he startles a little, his hand skittering, the red line of antlers he'd been curving upwards going wide and stuttering haptically. Two and a half weeks is how long it's taken for Sirius to be allowed into the inner sanctum, granted the holiest of privileges: crayons.

They're kneeling on the front stoop, the door closed in front of them, all previous drawings cleared away to make way for new ones. All except one, the black dog still in place, off to the side, animation charms steadily failing, but its tail gives a weak flutter periodically, stubborn and refusing to die just yet. After his breakfast that morning, Harry had stated it was time. Time for new pictures to replace the old, because the old ones were boring, Moony, and our door is boring, too. And Sirius had been expected to help. Demanded, really, not that he's complaining.

Studying the mess made of his antlers, Sirius is slow to pull his wand, clearing it away to start anew. He thinks there might be a metaphor in there somewhere, but he can't quite grasp it in the jumbled chaos now filling his head.

"Does he?" asks Sirius measuredly, not looking at Harry as he cleans away the red trails.

It's a name he hasn't heard in years, not from anyone. More than five, to be exact, and it pulls at something inside Sirius to hear again now, coming from a mouth that hadn't ever truly managed to form it properly the last time it had tried.

"Sometimes," says Harry, tongue peeking between his teeth as he puts the finishing touches on what Sirius thinks might be a mouse, though he can't be entirely certain. He's never seen a mouse quite that colorful before. Sirius thinks he might make the colors dance once they're finished. "But he never says it to you. Only when he's talking 'bout you."

Humming minutely, Sirius glances over his shoulder to where Remus is seated in the Adirondack chair in the grass. He's reclined back, head and face tilted towards the sky, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, eyes closed. He hasn't reacted to anything said, but Sirius knows the other man is listening because he always is, always near enough to catch every word, to intervene in any and everything he sees fit, though he never does, at least not yet.

"You call him Moony," continues Harry, and he's looking at Sirius now, large green eyes curious where they glint behind the lenses of his glasses, Sirius watching them slip down his nose. Sirius reaches out and pushes them back up, an instinct, a long-forgotten habit but not actually forgotten at all, it seems. "All the time."

"I call him Moony because you call him Moony," explains Sirius, not entirely sure what else to say, turning his gaze back to the door.

Harry is quiet for a minute, rolling a purple crayon between his fingers thoughtfully as Sirius scribbles out his own design, just for something to do.

"Did you used to call him Moony?" he asks finally, head tipping so far to the side that Sirius worries for a second it might twist off his neck and clunk to the concrete below. "Before me?"

Sirius drops his hand from the door, slow to respond before saying quietly, "Did, yeah. A lot. All the time."

"Why?"

"I made it up. I gave him the nickname. Seemed only right that I use it."

"Padfoot's your name?"

Swallowing, eyes dropping to his knees before flickering to Harry, Sirius nods. "It was, a long time ago."

"Who gave it to you?"

"It – " Sirius stops, gaze jumping to the drawings on the door, something sharp stabbing into his heart, like longing, like absence and grief and the need to touch what's never coming back again, eyes drifting to the antlers, tracing their shape, familiar like the hazy outlines made by clouds, memories too distant to fully recall clearly any longer. "Your dad gave me the name. It was his idea. Padfoot. He thought it was funny. He always found things funny that most others didn't."

Harry stares up at him for a minute, and then he exhales a breath, heavy for a six-year-old, so very heavy but somehow lighter than Sirius thinks anything in this moment should be.

"That's nice," is all he says, leaning forward to collect the crayon from Sirius' slack fingers, beginning to push the colors back into the box. "Can you make them move now?" he asks eagerly, eyes bright as he looks up at Sirius again.

When the drawings are animated once more, they watch them flutter and skitter and hobble across the wood of the painted door, Harry happy and excited from the sight. Sirius thinks he could stay this way forever, or at least a very long time, days and months, years and decades, if only given the chance, but Harry suddenly stands beside him, clutching his box of crayons protectively to his chest, like to lose them would be to lose the dearest of friends.

"Gotta take them inside 'cause they melt," informs his godson knowingly, and Sirius watches as he pushes the door open, disappearing inside as it closes in front of his face again.

Read on AO3

Gorgeous art by @drunkdumbfucker <3