#I don't know why I remembered the stupid bridge

[magicinverse]

The little story behind Rivers bridge

The bridge in front of Rivis house was built by Roier with the help of Richas so she would have something to walk around easier and to begin with, Roier decided to build it fast so she could destroy it and do something pretty and decorated it how she wanted, Rivers thought the bridge was really ugly then she discovered he made it, Roier told her she could destroy it if she wanted and he wouldn't care, she didn't want to destroy it, she decided the bridge was going to stay cause he made it. So the bridge is still there

[bywons]

𖧷 HEARTSHAKER — LHS

⌕ lee heeseung doesn't know what he wants from his rival, better marks or a kiss

pairing. student!lee heeseung x student!fem! reader wc. 1.4k tw/cw. jealousy, kissing genre. academic rivals to lovers, fluff, highschool au sru's note. requested for my nini love ♡ shitty title ik but i hope ya'll like cuz i dont T0T ( CATALOGUE?! )

¤ feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated! PLS REBLOG ♡

96 out of 100.

thanks to the almighty above that lee heeseung is tired, the basketball jersey stuck to his back, sweat covering his face and colouring the red fabric darker as he pants for his breath, or else the test paper in his hands would have been crumpled and ripped to shreds.

not because of his number obviously.

“99, i knew i rocked this paper!”, a dulcet, familiar voice floats up to heeseung's ear from behind him, followed by a mean eye roll from him and his stance still. heeseung doesn't bother to turn around, not when he recognizes the infuriating feminine voice and already visualises the usual dark brown braids hanging by the either sides of her face, school tie too tight and almost reaching the last button of the shirt.

“why the long face?”, jake's interruption breaks heeseung out of his trance, as he takes the much unwanted seat beside him, “96 not enough for ‘ya?”

“oh shut up”, heeseung returns jake’s scoff slamming down his physics answer sheet against the wooden table. both heeseung and jake know it's not enough, whether it's a 96 or a 99 ’cause,

“it's never enough unless i cross y/n’s marks”, heeseung sighs, the answer sheet dampening under the pressure of his sweaty hands, as his forehead became the victim of the other.

everyone in the class is aware of the cutthroat competition and abhorrence between the two brunettes, already expecting the usual bickering episode between the two whenever it was time for exam results, and even if by chance someone got the same results as any one of them, they'd do their best and not bother the two.

but today is different, today heeseung doesn't find his usual energy to bicker with the braided girl sitting at the back of the class, not when she managed to beat him thrice in a row at his own game!

“last time it was a marks’ difference and now three? how is this even possible?”, heeseung groans while flipping the sheets over and over as if something magical would happen and increase his numbers.

“i heard park sunghoon's been studying chemistry with her,” jake sighs, pushing his fingers through his dark hair as he turns his head to the side, but his eyes steal a glance at heeseung, and he smirks, “‘ya know, the chemistry toppe—”

“yeah yeah i got you jake, i know who he is”, heeseung presses the bridge of his nose a bit too hard, the familiar face of the boy floating up to his vision, though he can't remember where his loved moles are on him. oh how all the girls are head over heels for park sunghoon.

is y/n one of them too? he could swear they're hanging out too much.

stupid thought, stupid stupid thought. heeseung winces at his sudden curiosity, why is giving this matter so much thought? he doesn't like y/n anyway, he doesn't like her bickering, he doesn't like her annoying attitude, he doesn't like her hair, he doesn't like her scent and he definitely doesn't like her smile. so lee heeseung shouldn't really get his head messed up in this.

the school bell rings, bringing out new tedious groans and sighs from the students as they dawdle to their next classes.

“i think she's coming here—”

“don't you have a physics class to be at, jake?”

“yeah yeah shoo me away all you want to”, jake scoffs, a smirk playing at his lips when he slings a bag on his shoulder before leaving the class, “bet you can't shoo away her.”

and before heeseung even knew it the class was empty, except him and as empty, dispersed out in the crowded hallways to their next classes. that is unless the previous dulcet but annoying voice came closer to heeseung.

“heeseung!”, you chirp, approaching him from behind, “how was your paper?”

“ugh what do you—”, heeseung's anger dies down when he turns around to face you, your hair's not done into braids today, instead it's let open with your tie loose this time, a few drops of sweat sticking to your forehead, dance practice maybe? “—w-want?”

“your marks of course,” you giggle at his stutter, taking a seat beside him, “wanna make sure if i beat you or nah.”

“yeah you did, but not on your own huh?”, heeseung scoffs, looking down at you. he realises his heart skips a beat when you tilt your head to the side, holding eye contact.

not good.

“huh? what do you mean heeseung?”, you pout, acting ever so confused by his accusation, “not on my own?”

“oh come on, the whole class knows it now”, heeseung rolls his eyes, “park sunghoon, rings any bell?”

“oh hoon?”, you grin, covering your mouth and suppressing a small giggle, “he did help me a lot with chemistry, he's so sweet!”

heeseung doesn't realise his face is getting hotter and redder by the minute, both by your presence and the pronunciation of somebody else's name. he has a nickname already? hoon? no way, you have only ever interacted with him, whether it was bickering or asking for notes or silently sitting beside each other. so how did this other guy pop up?

“hoon,” heeseung mumbles his nickname, his eyes searching for something in yours and he doesn't even notice he's sounding jealous, “how are you guys so close already…”

“well he's been tutoring me chemistry for a month now—”

“a month?!”, heeseung's brows lift up and his jaw hangs open.

heeseung doesn't know if he likes your new look, the way the curls of your hair rests on your shoulders, the way your tie is loose from your neck and the way your head tilts to look at his, heeseung's heart skips a beat and it knows something is wrong.

“why? is something—” your lips fall apart, a soft blush takes place on your cheeks and you giggle again, in a teasing tone you nudge heeseung's arm, “aww are you jealous?”

“what? don't be ridiculous now.”

“heeseung is jealous, you are jealous, you are jealous j-e-a-l-o-u-s”, you continue this song, nudging heeseung and teasing him more and more, causing his cheeks to heat up, eyes turning back to the open window and then back to yours.

“shut up y/n, you're not funny”, he scowls, the soft breeze enters the empty classrooms and hits the both of you like a refreshing wave.

and in that moment, through your teasing manner, the empty classroom, the echoes of your laughter and the soft breeze caressing your hair, your long dark hair that matched his and the way his heart skipped a beat, the way his heart always skipped a beat while you were around, he realises it's something good.

“if you shut up now i swear y/n”, heeseung tried and kept his best ‘angry at you’ acting.

“oh really? then why don't you make me?”, a soft chuckle leaves your lips and you squint your eyes.

it happens all so fast, heeseungs soft lips on yours, falling right into place. it tickles you a bit like feathers and pulls you in, until you realise that's his hand snaking around your waist. the kiss was delicate, caring and brought so much warmth from a person you only argued with.

you gasp for air, first one to pull back.

you meet his eyes, scurrying through yours and cheeks all red, probably embarrassed of what he did. the kiss quickly coloured your cheeks, a shy smile playing around your lips and a small glint in your eyes.

“i-i don't know what i did—”

“its okay heeseung”, you shush a nervous heeseung, the proximity increasing the pace of your hearts, “do you like me?”

“i love you”, heeseung answers almost instantly, “i love everything about you.”

“me too”, heeseung is the most relieved as he hears this, that hoon guy got nothing on him now. he's the winner.

“so, are we gonna date then?”, he chuckles.

you nod, “let's surprise the class together!”

lee heeseung doesn't know what he wanted when he got his answer sheets. better marks than y/n, a bickering episode with her, or maybe her to fall in love with her? he doesn't know.

a smirk falls upon his lips and he pulls you closer by your waist. he looked ever so magical and beautiful up close, that you wish the bickering had died down earlier.

“whatever you say, pretty girl”, he leans in for a second kiss, indulging himself more into you, he swears his heart will beat out of the chest as soon as his free hand makes contact with your dark strands of hair.

outside the class stands a grinning jake with a bored sunghoon, and a quite high five is shared between the two, carefully peeking inside.

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

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[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part two)

(part one)

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay. 

He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.

Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway. 

Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks. 

“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”

“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.” 

So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. 

“That is good news,” Wayne agrees. 

Steve asks, “How much time?” 

The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.” 

Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.

“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.  

Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough. 

He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids. 

Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did. 

“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.” 

“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.

“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.” 

“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond. 

“And us,” Erica adds as well.��

Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.” 

“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.” 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.” 

Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him. 

He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.

“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?” 

“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally. 

“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”

“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.” 

Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.” 

She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital. 

“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them. 

“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.” 

She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.” 

“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.” 

“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.

Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”

Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 

Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”

“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”

“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...” 

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase. 

“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.

It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.” 

“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.” 

Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?” 

“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.” 

~ 

The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children. 

“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.” 

“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him. 

“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!” 

The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.” 

“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.

The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.” 

“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”

“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!” 

“So you guys joined the club, then?” 

This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.

At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed. 

“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?” 

Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.” 

“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says. 

Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.” 

Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.” 

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.” 

“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.” 

And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.

(part three!)

taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)

[petersasteria]

No Way (2) - G Dragon/Kwon Ji-yong

Pairing: asshole!GD x fem!reader Summary: He wants a divorce.

A/N: If you haven't read part 1 yet, I highly suggest you do so. Thank you for all the love for part 1. As promised, here is part 2. Enjoy! Special shout out to @currentloser for helping me brainstorm!

gd masterlist

Ever since that night you confronted Ji-yong, he made it his mission to make you want to get a divorce. He kept pushing you away, arguing with you whenever it's just the two of you, coming home late and making you see the marks his mistress left, and overall, driving you insane. He even decided to sleep in his office.

"Ji-yong, if you'll use the bathroom and see that there's no toilet paper, go and put a new one!" You said, exasperated.

He shrugged, "You have hands, don't you? Do it yourself. Also, you were already in there. What's the use of telling me off, if you're already there to refill it?"

He didn't look at you. In fact, he's never looked your way since that night. He avoided you at all costs while making sure he annoyed the living shit out of you. He continued watching tv with a smug grin.

"That's not even-" You sighed and put a hand on your hip. You hung your head low, closed your eyes, and pinched the bridge of your nose with your other hand. You stayed like that for about 3 seconds before standing properly, "I get that you want a divorce, but I don't. I know in your head, we're technically separated, but all I'm asking for is your cooperation."

His smug look faded and he rolled his eyes.

"We live in the same roof. You and I need to help each other and if you don't want our daughter to find out about our marital problems, then help me." You pleaded.

Days go by, and he's still the same.

"Ji-yong, if you want me to still wash your clothes, put them in the laundry basket!!" "Why should I if you're just going to pick up all my clothes, anyway?"

"Don't touch those cookies, Ji! Their for our daughter and her friends. They'll be sleeping over, remember?" "So? Bake a new batch. If you're able to make two dozen cookies now, you can make them again." "I know, but these are special cookies with specific requests from our girl and her friends. Can you not gobble all of the cookies? It's really stressful to make." "So, why'd you make them if it's stressful to make? Geez, Y/N. You're so stupid."

"Hey, I was watching that!" "I don't care, Y/N. There's a tv in our shared room, right? Go use that. There's no tv where I sleep, so this tv is mine."

"Where were you, Y/N?!" "I was at a friend's house. She had a baby shower and-" "I don't actually care where you go or who you see. I was just asking where you were because there's no warm food waiting for me." "You've been here the whole day, and you didn't cook for yourself?" "No. Besides, you said in our wedding vows that you'll cook for me forever. Since we're not divorced, that promise is still a go. Well? What're you doing just standing there? Chop chop!"

Kwon Ji-yong knew his words and actions were a guarantee to break your heart. He loved every single second seeing you frown, hearing you sigh, seeing your tired eyes, and watching your jaw drop after he says something horrific. Leaning back on his office chair, he lets out a satisfied chuckle before lighting a cigarette. Once again, he was satisfied in breaking your heart. He stared out the window for a while in deep satisfaction as he gave a few puffs of his cigarette. His smug grin, never leaving his pretty face. His phone vibrated on the desk and when he checked to see who it was, his smiled a real smile to see that it was his mistress.

"Hey, pretty girl." He answered the FaceTime call with a wide grin before crushing his cigarette on the cigarette bowl and leaving it there.

Meanwhile, you were in the kitchen, holding back tears as you cleaned Ji-yong's mess. Glass was scattered everywhere and he didn't even bother to clean it up. According to him, your favorite mug fell when he went to get his mug and he didn't clean it up because he was in a hurry, despite not having anywhere to go.

You were tired. Boy, were you tired. Everyday, you keep fighting for your marriage and if it wasn't clear before, it was crystal clear now. Kwon Ji-yong didn't want you anymore. The realization started to sink in as you picked up the big glass shards of your favorite mug, tears threatening to spill. That mug held sentimental value to you and he knew that. It was your grandfather's mug and you got it from his things when he passed on. Your grandfather raised you and he was able to see yours and Ji-yong's wedding. A month later, he died in his sleep. It broke you, but Ji-yong was there to hold you. With your current situation, as you stared at the glass in your hand, you wondered what your grandfather would've done if you tell him all this. You didn't care if you looked crazy, but you kept all the glass shards, placed it in a small box and kept it in your drawer. You didn't have the heart to throw it away and that shattered mug is a reminder of when you realized Ji-yong no longer cared or loved you. It was hard to accept, but you'll have to do the same.

Suddenly, you wanted the divorce too. However, your thoughts immediately go to your beautiful daughter: Kwon Seo-yeon. She's only 6 years old and you didn't want her to experience this at a young age. So, you've decided to stay in this one-sided, loveless marriage with Ji-yong for the sake of Seo-yeon.

The next day, Ji-yong woke up feeling sprightly. He stretched his whole body as he let out a big yawn before reaching for the glass of milk waiting on his makeshift bedside table. Although, the glass of milk he was wanting to drink, wasn't there anymore. With his face contorting in confusion, he slowly sat up, rubbed his eyes, and checked again.

It truly wasn't there. Usually, you would wake up earlier than him just to make him breakfast and prepare a full glass of milk for him to drink when he wakes up. He frowned a little bit when it wasn't there. He threw off the blankets from his lap and he got out of bed.

He walked around your shared luxury apartment, humming to himself. He noticed that the apartment was too quiet. It was a weekend and usually, he would hear the tv playing Seo-yeon's cartoons as she sat on the floor and colored. He would also hear pots and pans clanking as you prepared food for the three of you.

Now, it was silent. He didn't like it one bit. He was going to play music from his phone, but quickly realized he left it in his office. As he walked back, he saw the door of your shared room slightly open. He took a peek and he saw you curled up in bed, wide awake, staring at the blank wall.

He slowly pushed the door open and said, "Hey, where's Seo-yeon?"

"With your sister. Play date." You replied in a quiet voice.

He nodded and asked, "How about food? You didn't cook and you didn't prepare my glass of milk." He said with arms crossed.

You slowly sat up, stretched, and looked at him. Not having the energy to deal with his pompous ass, you shrugged. "We're technically separated, right? You have your own world now. Make it yourself."

Ji-yong's jaw dropped as he watched you move around your once shared room and walked past him. He huffed before walking back to his office-turned-bedroom and slammed the door.

It went on like this for a while. He started to notice new things about you.

How you'd keep quiet when he'd steal cookies from Seo-yeon's cookie jar. How you'd keep quiet after seeing all the mess he made. How you'd just replace the toilet paper without yelling at him to do it himself. How you'd given up in arguing with him.

It didn't make sense to him. He looked forward to your arguments and he didn't like that everyday it was anti-climactic with you these days. It was like you didn't have the energy to argue with him anymore.

He sat there and stared at you as you and Seo-yeon talked about her day with her cousin. After a long time, it was his first time looking at you. Like, really looking at you. He saw your tired eyes, chapped lips from dehydration, uncombed hair, and you lost an unhealthy amount of weight.

He frowned at your appearance. He didn't like what he saw. He wasn't disgusted, but he was sad that you didn't take care of yourself anymore.

When lunch was over, he stood by the kitchen island as he watched you wash dishes. "Y/N..." He called softly.

"What?" You said as you continued washing.

"Is there something wrong? I just-" Ji-yong started as he walked towards you. "I'm a little bit worried about you. You don't look healthy. Are you okay? Is something going on at work? I mean, despite this thing between us, you can still talk to me. You know that, right? Just knock on my door and-"

"Knock it off, Ji-yong. I'm fine." You snapped and looked at him. You saw how his eyes widened in surprise. You could tell he didn't expect that. "It's not your place anymore, remember? Go see your mistress."

Ji-yong frantically looked around to see if Seo-yeon was there and sighed in relief when she wasn't. "As much as I want to, she's on vacation with her friends."

You snickered, "Paid by you? I didn't ask where she was and I don't care. Get out of my face." You continued washing the dishes as he stared at you for a while. He didn't who you were anymore which is ironic because he knew you would've said the same thing about him.

The next few months were awfully quiet. The only noise would come from Seo-yeon whenever she'd laugh, sing, dance, and play pretend with Daesung, Taeyang, and Seung-hyun. You and Ji-yong never speak to each other anymore unless there's a family function coming up.

One day, Ji-yong comes home early from practice and was surprised to see Daesung there with Seo-yeon. 'Is she dating Daesung now?' He thought.

'She wouldn't do that to me. Daesung wouldn't do that either.' He assured himself.

Daesung looked at his direction and smiled widely. "Ji-yong!! Look, Seo-yeon, your appa is here!"

Seo-yeon smiled and waved cutely as Ji-yong walked up to her to give her a big hug and kiss.

"I missed you so much, princess. What did you do at school today?" Ji-yong asked, his smile reaching his eyes.

He loved Seo-yeon. All his life he knew he wanted to be a dad and he was extremely elated when he found out you were pregnant. Seo-yeon was his carbon copy; his solid mini me. When she was born, he didn't want to let her go. She's a daddy's girl and he spoiled her endlessly. It made him sad every time he went to work and it made him even sadder when she started going to school. That meant rarely seeing her, but if working would mean he could give Seo-yeon everything in the world, he'd work harder than the devil. He loved being her dad and he wouldn't mind if there was another one on the way, but the universe had different plans.

He met his mistress at a bar. She was a dancer and he was mesmerized by the way she moved and when he got to know her, he immediately fell in love. It was true; she was nothing like you. Both of you were at different ends of the spectrum. It was slow with you, but with her, everything was fast-paced, rushed, exciting, and exhilarating. Ultimately, he was more hyper-fixated on her than he was with you. It wasn't the first time either. When he first cheated on you, it was a mistake, but he got thrilled over the thought of being caught, so kept meeting this girls. But this dancer? She was different. She was his muse now. He wanted to bring her everywhere, but he knew he couldn't. It has to be a secret.

"-and we colored! Then uncle Daesung picked me up." Seo-yeon said cheerfully. Ji-yong smiled brightly at his carbon copy and said, "Really?" Before turning to look at Daesung, who was busy looking at Seo-yeon. Daesung loved her like his own.

"Seo-yeon, tell your appa what we did before going home." Daesung said excitedly. Ji-yong couldn't help, but chuckle at Daesung's excitement. He knew he was being irrational with his thoughts. Besides, Daesung is a brother to him.

Ji-yong looked at Seo-yeon, "What did you do?"

"We had ice cream!" Seo-yeon cheered.

Daesung shook his head, "You're being too humble! I swear, she's just like you, Ji-yong."

'I hope not.' He thought.

"She bought a sandwich and gave it to an old man! You and Y/N are raising such a lovely daughter and I'm honored that I get to witness it. She's so kind and helpful!" Daesung praised as he gave Seo-yeon a high-five.

After a few more minutes of spending time with Seo-yeon and Daesung, Ji-yong stood up to go to his room and freshen up. After that, he was surprised to see Daesung right outside his door.

"You scared me!" Ji-yong exclaimed.

"Sorry." Daesung said shyly. "May I come in?"

"Sure."

"I just wanted to talk to you about Y/N." Daesung started. "Is there something wrong with her?"

"Not that I know of, why?" Ji-yong asked, intrigued.

"It's just that she wrote down my name as Seo-yeon's guardian at school. She's also been asking me to pick her up from school everyday. There's no problem with that because Seo-yeon is like a daughter to me. It just makes me wonder because I know Y/N likes to spend time with Seo-yeon and I know she treasures that little time she has with Seo-yeon before she runs off to play with you." Daesung explained.

"What do you mean by 'she treasures that little time she has with Seo-yeon'?" Ji-yong questioned, raising a brow.

"Well, Y/N told me that after she tucked Seo-yeon in bed one time, she sleepily confessed that she liked you better than she liked Y/N." Daesung said sadly, knowing that it wasn't his place to tell.

"What? How come Y/N never told me this? I mean I'm... I'm her husband, after all." Ji-yong frowned. Husband. He hasn't referred to himself as your husband in such a long time that it's weird to even say out loud.

"She also started losing weight. If it's her choice, then I'm proud and happy for her. It's just that I feel her weight loss was done in an unhealthy manner." Daesung shared. Both were lost in thought until Daesung broke the silence. "You know what? I'll just ask her myself. We talk all the time, anyway."

Before Ji-yong could say anything, Daesung left the room to go find you. He wasn't able to speak to you because dinner was ready and you wanted everyone to sit and eat. Ji-yong sat next to you and put a hand on top of yours, squeezing it lightly. You hastily removed your hand from his, not knowing Daesung saw the exchange.

Daesung offered to help you clean up after dinner as Ji-yong volunteered to help Seo-yeon clean up and tuck her into bed.

Ji-yong loved Seo-yeon. He let her know every day. Her picture is in his wallet and his lockscreen. He looked at his daughter fondly as she picked out a story book she wanted Ji-yong to read. He sat on her bed patiently as she picked out 'The Hare and The Tortoise'.

She giddily sat down next to Ji-yong as she handed him the book. "Do the voices like uncle Seung-hyun."

"Eh? Seung-hyun? He read this to you?" Ji-yong asked, his brows furrowed. She nodded, "Last time he was here, he read that for me with funny voices. He picked me up from school because uncle Daesung had an emerenie."

"Emergency." Ji-yong corrected.

"Yes, emergency!" Seo-yeon smiled innocently. "Will you read to me, appa?"

Ji-yong kissed the top of her head and started reading. Meanwhile, you were in the dining area with Daesung. All the plates, pots, pans, and glasses were already back in their respective places. Both of you were talking in hushed voices while drinking the wine Seung-hyun gave you the other day.

"Y/N, you can tell me anything. Please don't be scared. I saw your interaction with Ji a while ago." Daesung pleaded. "You don't have to suffer alone. I'm your best friend too."

"It's not that I don't want to tell you because I do want to. It's just that if I say it, it's real." You whispered, not trusting your voice. Daesung nodded, "Okay. I won't force you. If you change your mind, I'm just a phone call away."

You didn't know, but Ji-yong heard the conversation after tucking Seo-yeon in bed. He wasn't blind to not see your slow decline. He didn't like it.

As Ji-yong laid in bed that night, he thought about what Daesung told him, he thought about you, and he thought about Seo-yeon basically telling you that he was her favorite. It was all so stressful and if he were in your shoes, he'd slowly sink down too. He couldn't sleep. He checked the time and sighed to himself. It was 1AM and he was wide awake. Wanting to shrug these thoughts off, he got out of his bed (it was a couch that could turn into a bed) and walked out of his room to watch tv.

He passed by your room and stopped when he heard you crying. You were sniffing and his heart broke to hear your broken voice.

"He's had multiple affairs, Dae." You cried into the phone. Daesung was on speaker. You cried for the first time in forever. It felt good to let it all out after holding it in for a long time.

"Y/N! How come you never told me?" Daesung gasped.

"I didn't want you or anyone else to change your views on him. I know deep down he's a good person. I know he wouldn't hurt a fly. He's also a really good father." You explained through your tears.

"Yes, but he's a terrible partner." Daesung said, as you cried even more. Daesung wished he was there to offer his shoulder for you to cry on. "You need a hug." He added.

You nodded, even though he wouldn't see it. "Yeah, I do." Both of you chuckled sadly.

Ji-yong's heart dropped. Now, Daesung knew about his affair. Daesung would probably tell Taeyang and Seung-hyun. He wasn't ready. He didn't know how to feel especially when you listed the good things about him and Daesung ending it with him being a bad partner.

"You should've told me or Taeyang or Seung-hyun." Daesung said, also on the brink of crying. He truly empathized with you. His heart broke to hear his best friend crying, making him want to cry too. "We would've helped you, Y/N. You know that." He said, voice cracking as tears cascaded down his cheeks.

Ji-yong's heart broke even more. It was at that moment, he knew he ruined everything.

"Dae, it's fine. I don't care anymore." You said as you carried the weight of your emotions. "I'll just sign the papers. As much as I love Seo-yeon, I know she'll be happier with her dad. Why do you think I ask you to pick her up instead? She doesn't want me. As painful as it is getting my heartbroken over my husband's affair, my daughter's feelings toward me hurts twice more."

"But Y/N-"

"I've made up my mind, Dae. I planned it all out in my head already. I've already started to look for a place to live. It's much smaller and a lot farther, but I'd like to start fresh. Don't you think I deserve that?"

"Of course you do." He replied, wiping his tears. "I'll miss my best friend, though."

"We can see each other, but maybe not right away. I can handle myself." You said, voice hoarse from all the crying.

Ji-yong couldn't believe what he was hearing. He couldn't believe that you were ready to leave him. He didn't know why he was feeling that way, especially when he was the one who asked for a divorce. He wanted to open the door and pull you in for a tight hug, but he knew he couldn't do that anymore.

"I'm busy tomorrow, but maybe Seung-hyun could go out with you as a distraction? I know he's been dying to spend time with you after being away shooting a movie. He told me he wanted to catch up with you the other day when he picked Seo-yeon up from school, but you told him you were sick that's why he didn't push it."

You chuckled lightly, voice still laced with hurt. "That'd be nice. Maybe I do need a distraction. I'm sure Kwon Ji-yong wouldn't mind taking care of Seo-yeon."

"Wow, full name basis." Daesung joked.

"Yeah. Can you text him for me?"

"Way ahead of you. He already agreed."

"Thanks. You're the best." You smiled a genuine smile. "Let's sleep now. I have a very important date tomorrow. Besides, I want to feel good about myself for once. I've been feeling ugly since..."

"Hey, stop that. Let's not mention her. She's irrelevant. Go and enjoy your day with Seung-hyun tomorrow. I'm sure he's excited to tell you all about his new movie. Go gave fun and go dress up the way you want to. If Ji-yong doesn't care, let him be. He's my best friend too, but I won't tolerate this behavior."

"Thanks, Dae. Good night." You said.

"Good night, Y/N!" Daesung said before hanging up.

Ji-yong stood outside the door. He finally got what he wanted, but why did he feel this way?

-

A/N: hope you guys liked it! lmk ur thoughts! hehe. might make this into 3 parts

Taglist for those who want part 2/for those who read the first one: @amoondragon @aanaritt @natalicss @crying497 @toxicghxst @jenn2sec @manuzicaveyr @billiesiousji @amyyforshort

Taglist: @redhoodedtoad

[homunculus-argument]

I've never really had the proper opportunity to play, but I fucking love reading peoples' DnD stories online. Yeah the stories people end up sharing are just the highlight reels and the greatest hits in sessions that might not have been that fun all the way through, but I read them the same way that people who don't play sports watch sports on the TV.

Like this one I read years ago but still remember. There was a party where the only human was their Pretty Boy Idiot Bard (the funniest type of bard) with next to nothing in intelligence but wildly high charisma, making him vital as the murderhobo party's Public Relations in any kind of negotiations, but absolutely useless anywhere else. Nobody else but the DM and the bard's player enjoyed that stuff more than combat and dungeons so the DM peppered in a lot of opportunities for the band to literally get away with murder just because That One Is So Pretty.

And the party in question ends up entering a fairly standard-looking dungeon, in search for a specific item. The one telling the story was playing a tiefling rogue, and at this point she noticed that the bard's player and the DM had shot a few "I noticed that you noticed that I noticed it too" sort of trying-not-to-laugh glances, and suspected that something was up, but decided not to say anything, in-character or out.

They end up encountering a chasm on the dungeon floor, a seemingly endless ravine that none of them could jump or climb over, and stop to figure out how to cross it. Another player character - a half-elf - asks if any of them can see anything they could use as a tool, maybe something they could use to build a bridge. Before anyone starts doing perception checks, the bard speaks up.

"I don't know. I went blind, like, two hours ago."

And at this point the rest of the party realises that they don't have a torch, or anything that'd give them light. The bard is the only one in the party who doesn't have darkvision. He hasn't seen shit for the entire time they've been in the dungeon. And he's too damn stupid to figure out why.

[thepixelelf]

and the universe said,

07 - "bro, chill"

genres/tags: soulmate au, idol au, comedy, romance, dumbassery relationship(s): ot13 x reader chapter warnings: coarse language. kithing. a liiitle svt on svt violence note: ik it's been a long time please be nice to me <3 (this isn't edited... I'll take a look at it when I have the time)

When soulmates are suddenly thrust upon the world, you are one in a million who wishes they weren’t – and that’s before you meet the person (people?!) making your life much harder than it needs to be. And before someone asks you to sign an NDA.

series masterlist

prev ⭒ chapter seven (4.0k) ⭒ next

“Where are they?” Myungjun asks as soon as Jihoon and Junhui enter the room they agreed upon.

Junhui braces both of his arms on the back of a chair. “What do you mean?”

“Your soulmate—” Cutting himself off with a sigh, Myungjun pinches the bridge of his nose and answers his own question. “You didn’t bring them.”

Yejung, who was sitting at a table with her laptop, shuts it with a frown. “Why not?”

Junhui shrugs. “I’m just here because Jihoon dragged me out.” He shifts between looking at the three other people in the room. “You guys know I just met my soulmate, right? I don’t like not having them here with me, either.”

“Well then why didn’t you—”

“They don’t know.” Jihoon cuts off Myungjun’s words, then pulls out a chair and drops himself in it. He stares at a random spot on the table. When he doesn’t elaborate any further, Yejung sends a furtive glance Myungjun’s way.

“Don’t know…” She leans her forearms on the table and scoots her chair closer. “...what? That you’re their soulmate? That there’s more than one of you? That you’re famous?”

Junhui snorts. “All of the above?”

At Junhui's quip and Jihoon's continued silence, Myungjun raises a cynical brow.

"You didn't tell them?" Yejung asks, softly shocked. "Why?"

Junhui's eyes skirt to Jihoon; he's unwilling to share his own reasons, though he doesn't quite understand this about himself, either.

Jihoon sighs. "I don't know. It's complicated. Things happened too fast the first time we—"

"The first time?" Myungjun echoes. "So you've been with them multiple times."

“Don’t say it like that.” Jihoon almost pouts, but the facial expression just makes him look angry. “Look. I ran into them when the vocal team was on the way to that radio show. We’d stopped by a cafe and there wasn’t much time and I was so out of my mind that I—” He cuts himself off. “It doesn’t matter. I got their number, and then they left. I asked to meet today and we did. Jun was already there for…” With his arms crossed, Jihoon looks over at Junhui, remembering that he still doesn’t really know what Junhui was doing at the same cafe you apparently frequent. Is this the same cat cafe Junhui is always talking about? “…some reason. Then someone started singing, and they told us their soulmate is stupid and annoying because their mark…”

“It’s not like ours,” Junhui finishes for Jihoon, though this only deepens the confusion written on Yejung and Myungjun’s faces.

“If it's not like yours, then how do you know they're your—”

“It's them, Hyung.” Jihoon can't help noticing the hopelessness in his own voice. It's you. He knows it's you.

But you don't know it's them— him.

And he's not sure you want to know.

“Their mark, like, grows,” Junhui explains. “Ours just stay on our hands, but when one of us sings, the notes go all over their arms and neck. Maybe other places — I don’t know — but they obviously don’t think it’s either of us since we weren’t singing when their mark did its thing.”

“So…” Myungjun crosses his arms and taps his finger on his bicep. “They don't like their mark.”

Junhui doesn't nod right away, but he does eventually.

Myungjun turns to Jihoon. “And you think that means they don't like you.”

Groaning and rubbing his hands over his face, Jihoon doesn't dignify that with a response. “Even if they did like their mark, it’s an insane situation. Thirteen soulmates? They’re gonna run for the hills when they find out.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Yejung says, to which Jihoon gives her a dry look and Junhui’s eyes light up. She clears her throat. “We just need to find a way to calmly inform them of the situation — preferably in a safe, comfortable environment.”

Myungjun recognizes a Yejung Game Plan brewing when he sees it. “Basically, what she’s saying is…”

“Let me talk to them.” Yejung opens her laptop again and begins typing away. “We just need to go about this in a calm, logical manner.” She gives a little nonchalant wave of her hand. “This’ll be easier than a design meeting.”

⭒

You’re sitting on the floor of your apartment, arms crossed, legs too, as you stare down at the shiny black credit card lying there between you and Heejun. His position mirrors yours, head tilted while he studies the card.

“It could be fake,” you say. Your knee bounces up and down, up and down.

Heejun lifts his head to give you a look. “Why would it be fake?”

“He said he doesn’t believe in banks.”

“It doesn’t look fake.” Heejun reaches out and takes the card, flipping it over in his fingers to read the back. “Looks like any other credit card. We should test it.”

You frown. “How?”

“Uh,” Heejun speaks like the answer is obvious. “Buy something?”

Okay, it is obvious, but the idea doesn’t sit too well with you. “Isn’t that stealing?”

“He gave you the card.”

“Yeah, but the police don’t know that,” you argue. “If I got charged for fraud, it would be his word against mine— no one would believe coffee guy just handed me his black card.”

Without moving his head, Heejun glances up from the card to look at you. "Why would he lie?"

"Um, because he already has? Who knows— maybe this card is connected to illicit activities and he planted it on me to implicate me."

“Which he would do because…?”

You throw your hands up in the air, then let them drop emphatically at your side. “I don’t know! Why did he do any of what he did?”

He raises a brow. “Because he’s a weirdo who likes you?”

“Okay but have you ever given your credit card to a person you’ve only met twice?”

Heejun’s shoulders rise in a shrug. “I’ve wanted to.”

“Seriously?” You can’t imagine your friend going that gaga over a crush, but then again, there was that girl in fourth grade whom he gave all his choco pies to. Heejun loves choco pies.

“Mine would decline though. It wouldn’t exactly impress.”

You lightly shove his shoulder. “Oh come on, it wouldn’t decline.”

“It would if they went over the limit. People only give people their credit cards for expensive stuff. You know that, right?”

The black card gleams up at you, almost tauntingly.

“Expensive stuff like what?”

He shrugs again. “Like a car?”

“You’ve been watching too many CEO dramas.” You exhale and place both hands on the floor with a pointed slam. Standing, you pick the credit card up and brush imaginary dirt off your pants.

“You won’t be so sarcastic when Park Seojoon tells you to keep that thing.”

You roll your eyes as you toss the card into the same trinket dish you keep your keys and other miscellaneous things in. “Isn’t that guy like six foot?”

“So was Huijun,” he counters.

“So are you. Is that all it takes to be a CEO nowadays?” you joke, pulling out your phone. “Height?”

Heejun scoffs, then frames his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “That and my devilish good looks.”

“Please.” You tap on a notification from an unknown number. “If that were true, you’d be the one handing out black…cards…”

At the way you trail off, Heejun furrows his brow and walks over to you. “What’s up? Did you fall for another online scam?”

Not this again. “Okay, first of all, that was not a scam, and I did not fall for it—”

“You didn’t fall for a not scam?”

“Shut up. What do you think this means?” You turn your phone towards him, and he takes it from your unsteady hand.

He reads aloud. “‘Hello, this is Shin Yejung of Pledis Entertainment.’ Did you apply there?”

“No,” you say, then shake your head and wave your hand. “I mean. I don’t know. Maybe. I applied to like five hundred places. But this isn’t that. Keep reading.”

Heejun takes a breath and starts reading like he’s holding a new edict. “‘It has come to my attention that you are in possession of one of my coworker’s bank cards.’ Oooooh, you’re in trouble.” He drags out the last syllable. “‘Please meet me at…’ whatever building, numbers numbers numbers… ‘so I can retrieve it. Please reply to this number for more information, and thank you for your time.’ Hm.”

“What do you think… am I getting arrested?”

Lowering your phone, Heejun gives you a seriously? look over it. “The cops are texting criminals now?”

“So you agree I’m a criminal.”

“You get annoying when you’re nervous, you know that?” When you roll your eyes, Heejun mirrors the expression and pokes your forehead long enough that he pushes you backward. “Look bub, you wanted to give the stupid thing back without using it, and now the opportunity has been handed right to you.” He waves your phone in the air like evidence. “The only question is why coffee guy didn’t just text you himself.”

You cross your arms. “Maybe he doesn’t like me as much as you thought.”

“One more self-deprecating comment out of you and I’m posting those pictures from your twentieth birthday.”

A gasp wrenches from your throat. “You wouldn’t!”

⭒

Joshua Hong doesn’t think he has that many unread messages on his phone.

He looks down.

Oof. 682.

Well, it’s not his worst.

Notifications fly by at the top of his screen.

[vernon] where is this guy

[chan] hyung this is important!!

[wonwoo] when have we known that guy to answer anything

[soonyoung] someone text yejung!!

It’s probably not that important, whoever they’re talking about. His members are likely just freaking out over this whole soulmate thing again.

Joshua lifts his hand and stares at his weird, natural — supernatural — tattoo. He still can’t bring himself to believe it.

Soulmates? Really? In this economy? This isn’t Tumblr.

At least… Joshua looks around the dance practice room… He’s pretty sure this isn’t Tumblr.

His phone rings, which is weird since he always has it on silent. Sliding the answer button, he brings the phone up to his ear. “Yejung?”

“Where are you?”

“The practice room,” Joshua answers plainly. “Isn’t this where we’re supposed to be today?”

Yejung sighs on the other end of the line. “I said in the group chat that we were dealing with soulmate stuff. Upstairs.”

Ah, so that’s what has everyone in a tizzy. “Alright, okay. Where am I going?”

“Room eight-thirteen—” He hangs up and starts to pack his things before Yejung can say, “Wait, no, nine-thirteen. We'll start when you arrive. Joshua? Hello?”

⭒

You check your phone for what must be upwards of the fifth time.

Yup, Shin Yejung of Pledis Entertainment definitely told you to meet her in room 813, and yet here you are. In room 813. Alone.

You shift on the leather couch. It’s a lounge-like room you’re in. You don’t really understand the purpose of such a room in an entertainment company, but whatever. You’re only here to return something you never should’ve had in the first place.

Although…

You turn the card over in your hand, watching the way the fancy lighting bounces off of it.

Why would Jihoon give it to you if he was just going to get it back like this?

Also, now that you really think about it, Jihoon did say something weird when he left yesterday with Huijun. Something about not letting “the rest” scare you off. Whatever that means.

The rest of what?

Or… whom?

You know Jihoon must work for the company in some capacity. The fact that both he and Huijun were wearing masks makes you think they could be artists…

Oh. Duh. Why didn’t you think of this earlier?

Switching apps, you tap the search bar and start typing. Just as you’re done with the last character of Jihoon HYBE, the door you entered through opens. You hastily slip your phone into your back pocket as you stand to greet the person coming in.

“Hello, you must be…” Your eyes scan over his face. He’s… delicate looking, until you move your gaze downwards a little, and his broad shoulders and thick arms are decidedly not delicate looking. “…Shin Yejung?”

You tilt your head. With no mask on the lower half of his face, he seems familiar. Now this guy must be an idol — you probably saw him on the walls when you were making your way through this maze of a building. 

He just raises a brow. “Who are you?”

“Oh, uh…” You stay standing in front of the couch as he approaches you, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m just here to return this.” Lifting the black card up, you hold it out between you and the man. “It’s Jihoon’s.”

“Jihoon’s?” he echoes, then moves to take the card from you, pinched between his thumb and forefinger. 

You both see it at the same time.

His mark, five black lines, clear as day.

Yours, peeking out from where your sleeve is pulled halfway up your hand.

You look up from your not-really-joined hands, then look down again.

No fucking way. 

“Twinkle twinkle, little—” The notes, whatever they are, dance across his mark.

No fucking way. 

You meet his eyes. “...Songbird?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. A few too many seconds.

Then, “So it’s you.”

“Holy—!”

At the same time as you try to jerk away, he attempts to turn your hand over and get a better look. Neither plan really works out. You stumble backwards, and with your hand in his, he gets pulled down with you onto the couch. His free hand shoots out to keep himself from slamming into you, but, persistent as the universe is, your faces end up very freaking close to each other anyway. Warmth from his knee on the couch cushion next to your thigh seeps through your clothing.

He doesn’t move. You don’t either.

For some reason, you feel stuck in place. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but… you just feel like you should be exactly where you are.

You’re almost too close to make real eye contact, so you just watch the way his eyes study yours.

“Songbird?” you whisper, though you have no idea what you’re trying to ask.

He stops analyzing you and finally looks at you. “Yeah?”

“…Are you leaning towards me on purpose?”

His lips (since when were you looking at those?) curl down at the corners. “Are you?”

Slowly, like your mind is trying to catch up to your body, you shake your head. “No…”

He drifts closer. Or you do. Or you both do.

Or something.

Your lips brush over his, and you feel just as much as you hear him whisper. “Then neither am I.”

In the span of a second, his free hand moves from the back of the couch to cradle your jaw, his thumb grazing gently just under your ear. He kisses you, lips moving over yours in a way you’ve felt before, but also in a way you’ve never felt before.

It’s strange.

Not bad strange, but strange in the way that it feels like you’ve just put the last of the groceries in the fridge. It’s like folding that final piece of laundry. Like coming home to the bed you made when you left in the morning.

It’s… satisfactory?

But that’s not the word people normally use when they think of putting their tongue in someone else’s mouth, right?

You’re running out of breath, but Songbird is insistent, and so are his lips, which you find yourself unable to get enough of. He pulls back for half a breath, registers your kiss me again or so help me facial expression, and dives right back in. He’s kissing you and you’re kissing him and you’re soulmates and…

Wait.

Soulmates?

“Wait,” you say, though it comes out more like, “Mmaem” Climbing both your hands up his — whoa — strong arms, you cup his cheeks in preparation to push him away, but he seems to like your touch. He covers the back of one of your hands with his warm palm, and he hums in a way that is not PG-13.

The sound has you melting, unfortunately.

Not for long though.

He’s ripped from you just as quickly as he fell onto you, pulled back by some guy with fluffy black hair, cozy attire head to toe, and… shit, a you’re in trouble glare the likes of which you’ve never seen before. He’s not even looking at you, yet you feel scolded.

“Yah!” he yells at your soulmate, who’s now on the floor. Then, after glancing at you for half a second and apparently finding zero more words to say, he shouts at him again. “Yah!”

Your soulmate opens his mouth, but then he turns to look at the now-open door, which leads you to do the same. A mob of prettyboys stands just outside, some with their jaws dropped and some looking like murder just got legalized and they’re on the prowl.

Someone’s despondent voice shouts, “Hyung!”

You feel like hiding under a blanket. Before your flight instinct kicks in, though, you recognize two familiar faces. “Jihoon?” His eyes meet yours when you say his name. “Huijun?”

One of the many boys among those you don't recognize echoes, “Huijun?” while sending him a weird look.

Someone pushes through the crowd — more like slinks through, occasionally nudging one of the other guys out of the way. His eyes stay firmly on you as he approaches, but you find no fear rising despite that. For some unknown reason, even as this completely unfamiliar man strides over to you with a frankly alarming amount of eye contact, you feel… safe.

Or at least, something close to it.

He kneels in front of where you're still seated on the leather couch, hand resting mere centimetres from leg. “Are you okay?” he asks, voice slightly nasal, but so, so gentle. 

“Uhh…” Self conscious, you wipe at the corner of your mouth with your sleeve. You spot your soulmate catch you doing so, and a look of hurt crosses his face. His own reaction, though, seems to startle him, and his hand rises to gently prod his shiny bottom lip with one of his fingers. He looks confused.

Well, that makes two of you.

Taking in the man right in front of you — pretty, lithe, concerned for you despite his unfamiliarity — you fail to answer his question. “Are… you Shin Yejung?”

He lets out a laugh, relieved, maybe, that you're not not okay. “Jeonghan,” he says simply.

You nod. “Jeonghan.”

At your voice echoing his name, the man’s eyes light up. “Yes?”

“Oh, uh…” You weren’t trying to call on him for anything, but as you study his gaze, you find yourself lost in his confident ease. Something in his eyes says that he knew this would happen.

Maybe not this, exactly — your soulmate has found a spot on the floor and has not stopped staring at it, while the rest of the strangers are still watching you — but taking up the same space as you, facing you, smiling at you with a soft quirk at the corners of his lips.

“Ugh!” A woman’s exasperated voice makes you look up at the crowd by the door. “Get— out of the way, you… ugh—” She breaks through, pushing aside a tall guy who looks like he’s about to cry. “—you men!”

Stumbling to her feet, she rights herself and brushes her bangs out of her face with a huff. “Now, what is—” She spots your soulmate still on his ass and mutters something you’re pretty sure can’t be aired on any broadcasting network. “...my life.”

Your eyes meet hers as she takes another breath. “Please tell me you’re Shin Yejung.”

“Yes, we spoke over the phone.”

“Thank god.” Shaking off all the weird feelings you’d accumulated in the last — what? Two minutes? — you stand from the couch and sidestep Jeonghan. The black card fell at some point during that lapse of judgement (aka kiss), so you swipe it up off the floor and hold it out to her with no preamble. “I swear I’m not a stalker fan or anything. And I didn’t use it, so…”

You glance over at Jihoon, whose expression gives off an oncoming panic. Is he scared to see you? Why? Huijun looks just fine, happy even, with you here. You can practically hear the ‘hello’ he wants to say out loud.

You clear your throat. “Anyway, um. I didn’t mean to, uh…” As you nervously cross your arms, you nod towards your soulmate. “I’m his— I mean, we are… sorry. This is… I wasn’t exactly expecting to find the person who’s…”

Maybe you shouldn’t say you’ve been annoyed by your soulmate since you got your stupid mark. At least not while he’s in the room.

“That’s actually what I brought you here to talk about,” Shin Yejung tells you, a bit like a doctor who’s about to deliver the bad news first. She doesn’t even take the card from you. “Would you like to take a seat?”

You scrunch your eyes shut for a second with a little shake of your head, trying to manual reset your brain because clearly it’s still muddled. “Sorry, what? You want to talk about…?”

The mob of men in the room get hidden from your vision as Yejung strategically places herself between them and you. “Soulmates,” she says.

You look down at the black card, then back up at her again. “Soulmates.”

“Yes. Your soulmates. I was hoping to talk to you alone first.” She sends a pointed look at the men behind her. “But it’s not exactly easy to get these guys to lis—”

“Sorry.” You wave a hand in the air to get her to stop, unable to comprehend any of her words after— “Did you say my soulmates? As in… mates, multiple? Mates with an S at the end? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

Remaining calm while your mind spins, Yejung nods. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

“Know what is a lot to take in?”

Yejung opens her mouth to answer, but a voice blurts out behind her, “We’re your soulmates!”

Maybe you haven’t known him long enough or talked to him that many times, but you recognize Jihoon’s voice, and something in your gut suddenly grows sharp. Not painful, but begging for you to feel it. Yejung shifts so your field of view is once again filled by men too pretty to be all in the same room. Jihoon’s standing there, fists clenched at his sides, out of breath for no discernable reason other than…

We’re your soulmates.

Seeing your hesitation, Jihoon huffs and tears a bandaid you never really noticed off the back of his right hand. Even before he completes the motion, you know what must be under the bandage. He holds his hand up, though, and the evidence is very near damning.

Next to him, Huijun smiles and lifts his arm, pointing to his own five lines with his opposite hand. 

Most of the guys behind them show you the same thing. Five lines on the smooth backs of their hands, near the base of the thumb. Dear lord, you don’t even know how many of them there are.

The angry one who pulled the man off of you earlier, at least, just looks lost, like he once had control and now has none. Relatable.

You stumble back a bit. Instinctively, you say, “Songbird?”

Though quite a few of the men seem to perk up at the nickname, only the one you already gave the moniker to truly reacts. Your soulmate — god, one of your soulmates? — looks up at you from the floor and answers, “Yeah?” before realizing he’s even doing it.

“Never mind,” you dismiss with a wave of your hand. “Ms Shin?”

“Yes?” She steps closer, a worried look on her face.

Jeonghan, too, moves toward you with a similar look on his face.

You try to take a steady breath and fail. “I think I’ll take that seat now.”

Swaying backward, your body falls onto the leather couch. 

You hear approximately ten panicked shouts as you go down.

prev ⭒ chapter seven (4.0k) ⭒ next

new chapters for atus are not on a schedule nor guaranteed. there is no taglist. thank you for reading!

[milessunflowers]

Franco Colapinto x Male Reader

The reader, who's nearsighted and always wears glasses, has lost them and is frantically searching everywhere

(It's the first order I've made, I hope I did it right 😅)

i love this omg! this is gonna be a good one bc im nearsighted and always lose my glasses when i set them down when i have a headache!

franco colapinto x male reader

synopsis: he can't even leave you alone for a second before you lose your glasses. now, the two of you are frantically searching everywhere for them.

author's note: thank you so much for the request! this one is going to be so fun to write since i seem to lose my glasses when they are on my face! it did get self indulgent just a bit but 😅. feel free to request more!

one minute. one stupid, short, devastating minute. that's how long he was gone to grab something from the room. franco looks at you, watching as you scramble across the floor, eyes squinted so much they almost looked closed. he sighs heavily, knowing exactly what happened just from the scene he walked back in to.

"mi amor, did you lose your glasses, again?" he asks you exasperatedly. he pinches the bridge of his nose and sets the blanket down on the couch. you squint in his general direction, trying to make out the colorful blob that seemed to be franco. you give him a sheepish smile.

"uh, no? i just, uh, really like the carpet. yep! the carpet is why i am on the floor!" you lie through your teeth, even though it was obvious you were desperately trying to find where you had dropped your glasses earlier.

you couldn't see the exact face your boyfriend was giving you but you could picture it. you give up and sit on your knees, looking and picking at the carpet. "okay, fine. i might have lost them again," you whisper, an embarrassed blush creeping up your neck, covering your cheeks, and painting the tips of your ears a bright red. to franco, the sight was adorable.

franco let's out a quiet, teasing laugh. "do you need help?" he asks, titling his head as he moves closer to you so you could see him clearer.

you nod and murmur a small, "yes, please." this wasn't the first time this has happened, nor would this be the last. you had a tendency to take your glasses off whenever it felt convenient, leaving them in places you never seem to remember. like one time, you were in the bedroom and remembered you needed your glasses. unfortunately, like always, you didn't remember where you put them so it ended up being an hour long search just for them to be in the bathroom.

franco was used to this. he knew you were forgetful, knew you often left things in places where they aren't needed. it doesn't take him as long as it used to as this happened almost daily. the two of you searched the living with little luck, thought you did find your pencil you lost when filling out some papers!

you moved on to the kitchen, squinting once more as you felt and looked around for a black blob that might have remotely resembled your glasses. franco followed quickly behind, opening the refrigerator and immediately finding your thick framed glasses.

he smiles softly and moves over to where you were searching through cabinets of plates and bowls, muttering about something. franco wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. "my wonderful, handsome, forgetful boyfriend," he begins, kissing your cheek softly. "i found them." he holds out the pair of glasses, you immediately grabbing them and putting them back on.

"thank you!" you exclaim, turning to hug him tightly, thanking him over and over again. "where were they?!"

"in the fruit drawer," franco responds neutrally, shrugging his shoulders and grinning. "you know, you should invest in contacts." you scowl at him.

"no way! i'd forget they were in, fall asleep with them in, and i really don't think that would end all too well," you remind him, watching as he holds in laughter. it was a conversation you both had before. "plus, i'm too lazy to take them in and out anyways," you add, though much quieter.

franco laughs and hugs you again, kissing the top of your head. "yeah, i know," he replies, his words muffled against your hair.

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m

[fuji-sen]

the 'evil imposter' just wants to be a baker!

Prologue: The Foodie turned Imposter?!

Part 9: Benny's Adventure Team! + Wolfhooks

[ part 8 ] || [ masterlist ] || [ part 10 ]

divider is made by @/saradika-graphics

"A shame I couldn't stay for long" you murmured, biting into the fluffy goodness that was mamon. It was another food that you learned from your Filipino Classmate, they had introduced it to you as a comfort food which was straight up facts ✨

You found yourself being able to easily slip out of the Ragnvindr estate, though the thought of not receiving your pay nearly made you hesitate. After all, how does one live without mora? the currency for everything in this place.

"I should visit the leylines later if I ever need money."

But then remembering how you were some sort of wanted mega criminal, you might not have many places to buy from. Right now you decided to head to wolvendom to harvest some wolfhooks as well as any other resources there. Since a lot of people were wary of the wolves, perhaps there are more natural resources there, laid untouched. At least, that's what you hope for.

Of course there is a chance to run into Razor. But you'll cross that bridge when you find it.

You turned to the map in your hands, given to you by Kaeya. You remembered your last moments with him before he had to distract Diluc.

"As much as I want to trust him. . I don't want to risk your safety. So for now you must leave, take my map I listed the locations where the knights are planning to patrol!" Kaeya said, taking your hand a forcing a map into your hold.

The man with deep blue hair placed both of his hands around yours, making it curl around the map securely. "Be safe [name]. Me or the traveler will try to find you when its safe but for now. ."

"Don't trust anyone carelessly."

You weren't stupid, despite the kindness showed to you by the hilichurls and the slime, despite Aether's honesty and Paimon's cheerfulness. . despite Adelinde and Kaeya giving you a chance. . despite all those kind people you cannot forget Jean. . Lisa or the knights, you could not forget the looks the Mondstadters had given you.

You know how precious trust is.

more so especially when your life is on the line.

Just because they were nice to you, doesn't mean the others would be too.

You closed the map, continuing your walk towards the Wolvendom, a bit more at ease when you saw that there would be no patrols in that area.

Wolvendom was different in-game, the forest was much larger, much thicker as it was filled with lots of trees much closer together, the canopy of leaves leaving abundant shade to protect you from the blazing sun. It had more resources that you could gather compared to the game as well.

You wiped the sweat off your face, your mask was untied, wrapped around one of your hand and kept away so you can breathe more easily. Finding Wolfhooks were easy, gathering them was not. You had to wince every now and then when the purple berries pricked you. Hence why you had to cover one hand with the mask to avoid any more injuries.

However you continued on, despite the irritation you managed to have enough wolfhooks for your journey, the berries also went straight to your inventory which was a nice touch and greatly boosted your quality of life.

Suddenly a branch had snapped and you turned to a bush that shook for a few moments, and from the shrubs a boy had emerged. A mop of ash-gray hair and scratches and scars that littered his much smaller form. .

Bennett.

Your hand gripped your bow, a part of you was ready to attack him and run, but remembering how he was simply a child made you stop, hesitating. Surely someone as kind and young as bennett. .

could you trust him?

"Ouch that hurts. ." he winced, still unaware of your presence as his gloved hand made its way to brush off the leaves and branches that was sprinkled around his hair, "Oh!"

His eyes finally made its way to you, and his hand fell limp on his side. You waited and observed how his eyes widened with recognition and surprise, would it morph to rage? or to hopefulness?

"You- you're the imposter!" a finger was thrust towards you.

"I have a name." You sighed, his eyes were still soft, there was no malice, at least. . none that you were aware of. "Have you come here in search of me?" you ask, finding it odd how formal you were being.

Bennett stammered, hand hovering near the handle of his blade. A beautiful skyward blade that glowed in his hands. . a sword you remembered equipping on him.

"Y-yes, you- it's a crime to impersonate the Creator!" he said, though despite the volume of his voice, you could still hear the hesitation and fear. .

he clearly didn't want to hurt you.

And so your heart ached for the young boy. "You are injured though. . why don't you try to kill me after I patch you up?" you offered with a pathetic attempt of a smile in hopes to assure him. "N-no!" he shook his head, you couldn't blame him. He'd probably be careless if he let someone branded as a criminal treat his scratches.

His stomach then grumbled and he flushed in embarrassment as he let you saw him in an even more vulnerable state. "Bennet." you frowned, the bow in you hands disappearing, "let me help you."

"I-"

"You're a kid. You're far too young to take another person's life."

"I'm an adventurer!" he argued as you walked closer to him, he still hesitated, even as you stood in front of him, vulnerable, he didn't unsheathe his blade to attack you.

"But you're no killer." you told him, and then you quickly acted. You grabbed his blade and put it in your inventory, effectively leaving him unarmed. "There" you smiled, yet he didn't feel scared.

Your smile was bright and warm, comforting not at all scary or threatening as he thought.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

Bennett didn't know how to feel about the current situation, he found himself inside a familiar hollowed trunk. One that he had visited with Razor, his other friend who was currently absent.

In his hand was a fluffy snack you, the imposter, had called a mammon.

Meanwhile, you, the object of nearly every person in Mondstadt's attention was kneeling beside him, wiping his legs clean, muttering something about having to disinfect it.

"You're nice. ." he muttered after a few silent minutes filled with observation on his part.

"Of course I am" you almost snorted, "I'm not heartless."

You pulled out an ointment, twisting the cap open as you smeared the contents on your fingers. The young adventurer shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. "It's not poisoned or anything." You told him.

You showed him your hands which had scratches littering your skin, and then you proceeded to apply the ointment to yourself. It started to tingle, did that meant it was working?

"See? I didn't die." You told him, and only then did he let you apply the ointment you had gotten from the Samachurl. "Why do they want to kill you. .?" Bennett suddenly asked as you finished and stood up.

"You. . you don't seem like an imposter."

Shrugging you turned away "But that doesn't make me your Creator either. I'm simply me. ." "How can that be possible?"

"I'm human Bennett. When we are born, we do not get to chose the face we were born with, or the situation we are born in. . it's how we are similar. You didn't chose to be born with bad luck, nor did I chose to be born with this face." You gestured to him, then to yourself.

Bennett pondered your words carefully, it made sense. . but. . "then why does Jean and the knights want to kill you? they wouldn't target you if you didn't do anything bad!"

"But I didn't" your voice was like a plead, 'please believe me' he could hear that small voice. "I just came inside the city, registering as an adventurer when I was immediately taken to their headquarters! They didn't ask me anything! They didn't let me explain, or even told me why I was arrested!"

Your sudden outburst had to stop though, as you noticed multiple presence approaching. You turned to the entrance of the hollowed trunk you were in, multiple sharp predatorial eyes were pointed at you. .

Razor and his lupical family had found you.

Perhaps they noticed your unfamiliar scent, or maybe benneth's and the iron scent from his wounds.

! You jumped back when Razor pounced forward quickly closing in the distance, swinging his claymore at you. You stared down at the wolf-boy, who lowered his claymore once you were away from Bennett who stared between the two of you in shock.

'This has just gotten troublesome.' The entrance was now blocked by Razor and his family, the only other exit was the one that would lead you to the weekly boss battle area for Andrius. You took a step back, eyes still on Razor who silently observed you like a predator.

"You. ."

His family snarled, and quickly moved. But instead of attacking you, they stood between you and Razor. Razor clearly didn't expect their actions as his red eyes widened in surprise. "Lupical. ."

The wolves growled and bark, communicating something to Razor who's mouth closed and opened a few times like a fish out of water. What did his lupical say exactly?

The claymore in his hands had disappeared, as he looked to be scolded. "Follow me. ." He said, walking pass you and jumping down to Andrius' area. The pack of wolves followed, as they passed you their heads would bob, a gesture reminiscent of that of a respectful bow.

Confused you turned to Bennett who stood up, a serious expression on his face.

"What exactly did they say about me?!"*

"They said. . that uh. ." his brows furrowed, perhaps still digesting what the wolves had said. "The lord of Wolvendom asks an audience with the person who shares the face of the creator."

You gulp, heart sinking. Andrius or Boreas was to judge you then?

"Come on, I don't think it's anything bad." Bennett tried to reassure you with an attempt of a smile, one that mirrored the same one you had given him. He was trying to comfort you?

Sighing you palmed your face as you tried to calm down, "okay." you muttered over and over again "okayokayokay-"

"Okay."

Bennett's warm hand had wrapped around your wrist, "don't worry, I'll make sure it's not going to end badly. Trust me as an Adventurer!" "Oh?" you blinked "and here I thought you were here to kill me since I'm an imposter. ."

He laughed awkwardly, "Well. . after listening to you, I guess I decided to just trust you. A real imposter wouldn't care about someone like me anyways."

"You think I care about you?"

"Well you did give me that tasty snack and dressed my wounds, doesn't that mean you care about me? you could have easily killed or left me anyways after taking my sword. ."

Chuckling your hand glowed, bringing out his weapon and handing it back to him. "Thanks Bennett, here." The boy beamed at you, taking his weapon once again, "where did you get that weapon anyways?"

"Oh, I received this as a blessing from the creator!" he chirped.

You hummed, standing at the exit, eyes casted downwards as you took a deep breath. Seeing Razor and the wolves from before, you wondered how you were going to land safely. . 'well if I'm going to die to Boreas, I guess it doesn't matter now.'

"I see, the creator must really like you then." you smiled at Bennett before plunging down.

"She. ." Bennett's eyes widened, running to the edge of the trunk in panic only to sigh in relief. "huh. . she knew my name. I don't think I ever told her." he scratched the back of his head, before unfortunately a rock flew towards him, hitting him at the back and being the one last push needed.

And so like you, Bennett fell.

Taglist:

@fantasyhopperhea @rhoswen-drake @cchiiwinkle @aman3kkun @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @bunniotomia @esthelily

@earth-to-name @fandomfan-102 @kh1ffy @jiyeons-closet @dragontammerz / @mercy-not-merci @aryuunachigiri @randomnatics @alexx197197 @keirennyx @vianitry @game-savvy @laviniadraws @altumsomnum @ghostlysyntaxed @kangyeonie @resident-cryptid @floofeh-purpi @allmightycucumber @wolfiafuntime @ofalexis @jiaoqiuthefoxian @is-it-night-or-day @lilacoaks @brainemptynothoughts

*Bennett understands a bit about the wolves' communication based on his voiceline about Razor.

NOTICE!

I will now be closing the participation time, now we will be having a poll to find out what's the name of our pyro buddy! Originally it was supposed to be till the end of the prologue arc but I'm beginning to think it'll be awhile till this ends.

Sorry for the quality too, I like Bennett but since it's been awhile I think he and Razor came out as 'ooc' in this chapter.

LINK!

Fuji_Sen has suggested! Lava Cake or "Java" based on the food / coffee" Fuji_Sen has suggested! Monsieur Creme Brulee or "Creme" based on the food. @Fantasyhopperhea has suggested! Soleil or "Sol" @Cactus4226 has suggested! Ruru (Py-ro, ro -> ru -> ruru) @bunniotomia has suggested! Helios or "Hel" @airyravenmaid has suggested! Cinnamon or "Cinna" @kindofscenic has suggested! Pyrex from the glass or "Pyruru" @shyentsmissingink has suggested! Pyri or "Pyrico" @dragontammerz has suggested! “Pepperoni” or “Pepper”

[buckgasms]

Bucky flirting with some girl while bunny is talking with natasha about something and suddenly she gets the brilliant idea to copy what bucky does! Kidnap the bitch and make sure she knows not to touch what dosent belong to her! Bucky can't be mad because he set the example for you to follow :)

Ooh nonnie you are devious 😈 I love it!

But you see my thought is this. I don't think bunny would punish the other woman because you gotta be a girl's girl in a man's world right?

BUT

There's no issue with telling Bucky you did it anyway. Just to fuck with his head...

I mean you are pissed with her, even when she tells you that Bucky wasn't flirting with her, they were just talking about some customer who did a stupid thing and they were laughing about it.

You didn't believe that, but you were being generous, she had the sense to look apologetic and scared. And when you suggested she take the next few days off, she took the wad of cash you stole from Bucky with a smile and left the club for a week or so.

You were now perched on Bucky's desk while he paced around the room, in a state of absolute panic and rage because you wouldn't tell him what you'd done to her.

"Well..." You mumbled slowly, "all I can really remember is you smiling at her and making her laugh...."

He growls in frustration and grimaces at you.

"Oh! I might have pushed her off a bridge....Yeah that's right, I took her for a cute little walk and pushed her into the river..."

But then you tut and shake your head, letting out a giggle as he kicks a bin in frustration.

"Or maybe I dragged her by those cheap extensions all the way down to the little red room and did the things you do to all those nasty men you deal with?"

You casually pull a long blonde extension out of your pocket and twirl it around.

He stalks over and grips your shoulders, squeezing you tight, his face dead serious.

"Bunny, for the last fucking time. What did you do with her? I need to know..."

You look at him quizzically, hands gliding up his expensive shirt to massage his chest, heaving under his anger.

"Why? Do you miss her? Do you want her back to take care of you? You want her to be your little bunny?"

He squeezes his eyes shut and you think maybe his head might explode. Which would be a great shame. Finally he opens them, and his hands come to cup your cheeks.

"Bunny, you know I love you. Crazy about you in fact. You are actually the first girl I haven't... I don't want anyone else, I honestly couldn't handle anyone else. You are the biggest handful I've ever had to deal with..."

You giggle and grab his crotch in one hand whilst pulling him to kiss you.

"Same actually..."

He chuckles and leans his forehead on yours, sighing in defeat as you press more kisses to his cheeks and lips.

"Show it to me Bucky. Show me your big cock and maybe I'll tell you then?"

He backs away slowly and unbuckles his belt. You swing your legs in excitement as his zipper is dragged down.

"You're crazy, you know that Bun Bun?" He approaches slowly, his big hands stroking at his heavy cock. "This good enough bunny?"

He chuckles as you shake your head because he knows that would never be enough for his crazy bunny. He presses a kiss to your forehead before nudging you to lay back over his desk.

You sigh with satisfaction as you feel him pull your underwear down, leaving you bare and exposed to him. You tilt your head and watch him, moving your legs to sit comfortably on his shoulders. He presses a kiss to one of your ankles before sliding in, just a little.

"Bucky, if you don't fuck me I'll never tell you where she is... Don't play with me."

He rolls his eyes before thrusting in fully, groaning at how tight and wet you are. His face is a picture of rage and pure pleasure as he ruts into your soft heat.

"Fuck sake Bunny, never a dull moment huh?"

Your giggle mixes with a groan and you grab his hands, pulling him towards you to share a perfect kiss. His lips chase yours, teeth nipping as his hips roll faster.

"You really love me?" You whisper between kisses, wrapping your arms around his neck, gripping his back as you feel his muscles strain and tighten as he moves.

"I adore you Bunny, you're my everything. Even if you drive me crazy..."

You both giggle as he drives harder, kissing and biting at you as you chase him.

"Hmm Bucky, I'm gonna.. gonna come..." You whine as be growls in your ear.

"Come on Bunny, be my good girl..."

It doesn't take long before he drags you over the edge, a long moan falling from your lips as he growls in your ear from his own pleasure.

He gives you both a moment before pulling back slightly and more serious look on his face.

"So you gonna tell me now?"

You giggle and grab your phone, swiping this way and that before you let you an even harder laugh out as you show him the screen.

"I sent her on vacation, she's in Florida...and you paid for it..."

His scowl is back and your giggles become almost impossible to control, as he pulls back and buttons himself up.

"Bunny I swear to god...."

You sit up and grab his shirt, pulling him back to you.

"But if you flirt with anyone again," your face becomes as serious as his, "then I won't be so sensible next time."

[blueskrugs]

I Know I Could Have Loved You | Brock Boeser

at long last, it's here! this is my fic for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange, written for @one-night-story! Once again, I am SO sorry this is a bit late, but I had a really brutal week.

I hope you enjoy!!

length: 2000 words

You met Brock Boeser in 2015 when you were both freshmen at the University of North Dakota.

He wasn't your best friend at first. 

In fact, he'd rolled his eyes and when you were forced to partner with him for a stupid project in your intro to stats course. You don't remember exactly when he did become your friend, but  before you knew it your weekends were spent watching hockey games, then going out for fast food french fries with Brock, or lounging in each other's dorm rooms while you did homework. (Or while you did homework, and Brock pretended to do his own.) 

You don't know when you fell in love with Brock Boeser, either, just that you did.

Brock dated a few people while at UND, like most of the hockey players did. They stuck around for a few weeks or months before disappearing. Brock never bothered to introduce you to any of them. You tried to not let it bother you. 

“You should move to Vancouver, "Brock said suddenly one summer day. He'd signed his ELC just a few months prior—instead of returning to UND with you in the fall, he’d be off to Vancouver for training camp with the Canucks. 

You were both tanning by the lake, and you lowered your sunglasses to look sideways at Brock. He wouldn't meet your eyes.

"Brock, some of us have to actually finish college before getting a job," you said. You still had 2 years before graduation. "And why the hell should I move to Vancouver?"

Brock shrugged, all forced nonchalance. "Well, I'll be there."

You scoffed. "Sure, from October to April." You didn't know anyone in Vancouver, excluding Brock, who only counted during hockey season anyway.

"But I'll miss you," Brock argued. "What am I supposed to do without you?"

"I think you'll manage just fine, Boes," you told him. "You survived this long without me before we met, didn't you? You can keep surviving now, too."

Brock pouts at you, but doesn't argue the point further, so you think that's the end of it. You put your sunglasses back in place on the bridge of your nose and settle back against your chair. You can’t deny that it leaves a nice fuzzy feeling in your chest that Brock thinks he’ll miss you so much that he’s begging you to join him in Vancouver.

Brock doesn’t bring it up again that summer, or for the next two years as you’re finishing up college, and you forget about the whole thing. The years pass; you graduate. 

Brock comes to your graduation party, kisses you on the cheek, and spends the afternoon charming your parents and your friends from high school and from UND. Brock always manages to stay within your orbit, never more than arm’s reach away from you. It’s nice, to have him back at your side like this. 

It's only when the party is over and Brock is helping clean up that he springs the question on you again.

"Have you thought about it at all?" he asks, apropos of absolutely fucking nothing.

You've had a few drinks, and it takes your brain a few seconds to catch up. "What?" you ask. "Thought about what?"

“Moving to Vancouver with me."

You already have a job lined up in your hometown. You haven't thought even once of moving to Vancouver instead.

"Brock, I can't just move to another country."

"What if I want you to?“

"Oh, sure, that will go over well on a visa application. ‘Because my bestfriend wants me to.’"

Brock sticks his tongue out at you.

"You should at least come and visit me," he pleads, "I really think you'll love it."

You roll your eyes at Brock. "I guess I can make time to visit,” you say, ignoring Brock's exaggerated cheer before he squishes you into a hug.

Brock manages to talk you into visiting him in June, because—in his words— "It's prettier in the summer."

He's not exactly wrong, you have to admit, after a week of traipsing around the city with Brock. You're watching a firework show with your head on Brock's shoulder when you realize you're starting to picture yourself in Vancouver, starting a real life here.

"D'you really think I could get a job here?” you murmur to Brock during a pause in the fireworks.

"What?” Brock asks. He turns to you. His blond hair glows in the light of the fireworks overhead. "Never mind,” you whisper back.

You begin searching for jobs in Vancouver that night, in the quiet darkness of Brock's spare bedroom.

Before you know it, you've lined up the perfect job—even better than the one you'd originally found back home, not that you'll ever tell Brock that—and Brock has helped you find an apartment in the city. 

"It's not far from me,” Brock had told you when he was helping you move in, "so you can come over and walk Milo and Coolie whenever."

"Oh, is that the real reason you wanted me to move out here?” you tease. "Free dog walking?"

Brock shrugs innocently but chuckles. "Well, I need someone to watch them when we're on road trips and stuff.”

You throw a wad of bubble wrap at him.

Later, while you and Brock are eating pizza on your living room floor, Brock flops into his back and sighs. You poke him in the head with your foot.

"You good, buddy?” you ask.

"What do you think of dating apps?” Brock says, which isn't really an answer.

You've always been too scared to try dating apps yourself. Instead of telling Brock that, you say, "You're a professional athlete.” And a very attractive one, but you don’t say that part. "What do you need dating apps for?”

Brock looks up at you from his sprawl on your floor. "Because I'm tired of being single?” he asks.

You flip him off. You don't say, I'm single, too, you could always date me. You got used to putting aside your feelings for Brock a long time ago.

"And you think dating apps are the solution? You didn't have any issues getting people to date you in North Dakota.”

Brock rolls his eyes. "I didn't play for the Canucks, then. It's all people I meet now seem to care about.”

You're still not sure how dating apps will solve that problem.

As if he hears your unspoken question, Brock continues. "At least this way, I can weed out puck bunnies or whatever a lot faster, instead of wasting my time.” He cranes his neck around so he can look at you directly. "So will you help me or not?” 

You think you'd rather get stabbed directly in the heart than to help Brock date someone else, but you never could say no to him.

"Fine, whatever,” you say. "Gimme your phone.” 

You're already regretting your decision less than ten minutes later as you watch Brock scroll through his camera roll to add pictures to his profile.

"You can't use your official headshot!” you tell him, trying to snatch his phone. "People are going to think they're getting catfished.”

"I don't have a lot of good pictures of myself!” Brock protests.

You've nixed three more photos—all pictures Brock has evidently stolen from the team's social media—("Why the hell do you save all these, anyway?”)—when Brock throws his hands up and passes you his phone.

"You do it then,” he tells you.

Brock's own camera roll is obviously useless, so you pull out your own phone. It only takes a few minutes of scrolling for you to pluck a handful of good photos out of your camera roll and Airdrop them to Brock. He's looking at you a little strangely when you hand his phone back.

"What?” you ask.

"I didn't know you took so many pictures of me,” he says. 

"I don't take that many,” you defend weakly. It's not like you have an entire album on your phone of pictures of him, or anything. 

Brock drops the subject, but you still feel uneasy as you continue helping him finish his profile. The two of you spend almost an hour bickering over which prompts to choose or the answers Brock writes for them before Brock deems his profile "good enough”.

"'Good enough?'” you argue. “This profile is a masterpiece,” you declare. "We'll get you cuffed in time for Christmas.”

Brock snorts at you. "All thanks to you,” he says, smacking a kiss to your cheek.

You try not to feel any particular way about it.

Brock spends the next few weeks bringing you his dating app matches to "approve.” He even shows you some of the funny ones—mostly girls tripping over themselves for the chance to sleep with The Brock Boeser of the Vancouver Canucks. He gets a lot of matches. 

You try to muster the appropriate enthusiasm for Brock, as he seems to be throwing himself into this endeavor with all the energy he throws into hockey.

It's hard, though, when all you can do is compare yourself to them. You wonder what Brock sees in them that he’s never seen in you.

Brock never seems to notice if your encouragement is lackluster.

Matches turn into a revolving door of first dates for Brock. A few times, first dates turn into second dates, and even into a third date or two. 

You force yourself to stop obsessively keeping track of his dates, and to pretend like each date he goes on doesn't drive the knife even deeper into your heart.

Brock's in the middle of telling you about his latest date—you think he’s been seeing this person for nearly a month—when he stops abruptly in the middle of a sentence.

"Are you okay?” he asks.

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?” you say. It doesn’t sound very confident, even to your ears. 

"You've got that look on your face, the one where you're mad at me, but trying to pretend that you're not.”

You try to arrange your face into something more neutral.

"I'm not mad at you, Brock,” you say. You don't think he believes you. 

"So why do you always get all—” Brock gestures vaguely at your face. “—pissy whenever I talk about my dates?”

"I do not! And besides, I didn't know moving to Vancouver meant a front row seat to your dating life! Don't you have teammates to talk about this shit with?”

Brock scoffs. "They don't care about my dating life, and, apparently, neither do you.” 

"Brock, it's not that I don't care—” 

Brock cuts you off. "Then what is it?”

"I care too much!”

"What?” he says.

"Dammit, Brock, why don't you want to date me?” you snap.

Brock shakes his head. You probably shouldn't have said that.

"What do you mean?” he asks slowly.

"You heard me the first time, Boeser. Why are you searching all over Vancouver for someone to date when I've been here the whole time?” 

Brock takes a step closer to you. You take a step backwards; your kitchen is small, and you end up trapped against the counter.

"The whole time? "Brock repeats dumbly.

You could slap him. "Yes, Brock. Boy, it's a good thing you're pretty and good at hockey, because you can be really stupid sometimes.”

"Hang on,” Brock says. He's moved even closer. "How was I supposed to know?”

"Do you think I'd more to another country for anyone?” you ask.

"Oh,” Brock says. Then he says, "For how long?”

"Huh?”

“How long have you been in love with me?” Brock asks.

“I don't know, sometime freshman year, I guess.” There was never really a lightbulb moment for you; your feelings for Brock grew and morphed so slowly you almost didn't notice until it was too late.

Brock kisses you then, crushing you up against the cabinets with the force of it. His hands are warm on your hips, his lips gentle and firm against yours.

You pull away, a little breathless.

Brock grins at you. “If I had known this was an option, I would have kissed you a long time ago.”

"So, can we delete that dating app now?” you ask, forehead resting on Brock's shoulder.

"We can do whatever you want,” Brock says, leaning in to kiss you again.

You suppose deleting his dating profile can wait a little while.

[stone-stars]

Transcript:

[Bahumia theme fades out.] Murph: WEL-come back to Bahumia everybody! Jake, Emily, and Caldwell: Ba-HU-mia! Murph: I'm your dungeon master (laughing) Brian Murphy, joined by Jake Hurwitz-- [Clip cuts forward. Emily, Jake, and Caldwell are laughing.] Murph: Uh, sweet guys, uh, why don't we go ahead and do a little recap? Caldwell and Jake: Yes please. Emily, enthusiastically: Ok Murph! [Caldwell and Jake laugh.] Murph: This was-- you're bringing off-mic bits onto mic. [Emily laughs.] When we-- Caldwell: You're bridging the bit! Murph: Yeah. The reason I was-- Jake: Sorry about that, Murph! Murph: The reason I was laughing-- Emily: (laughing harder) Sorry about that, Murph! Murph: You-- We can't all talk over each other-- Caldwell: It's okay, Murphs! Murph: We all have to calm down (laughing) and let each other speak. Caldwell: Everyone let Murph speak! Murph: That has to happen! Jake: Go ahead, Murph! [Emily is still laughing. She laughs harder.] Murph: Ok-- Thanks guys. (laughing) I-- haven't described what you're doing. [The others laughing.] Right before we started everyone just kept being really polite, but in a way that was not letting me start the recording. Any time I said "we're about to-- let's get started" they would go "ok Murph!" "let's go Murph!" "ready to go Murph!" Emily: I remember that, Murph! Murph: Yeah. Jake: Yeah. Sorry about interrupting you, Murph! Murph: Well the people at home didn't remember it, cause they didn't know. We have to tell them what's going on. (laughing) We can't just say shit. Caldwell: We should do a recap before the recap, Murphs. [Emily laughs.] Murph: Yeah, this is the pre- (laughing) the pre-show recap of the stupid fucking bits you guys do. [The others laugh.] Jake: Well put, Murph! Murph: Yeah this is why I was laughing when I said my name. Emily: (cackles) Touché, Murph! Murph: Okay guys. Uh, let's go ahead and do the real recap. Caldwell, whispering: Sounds good Murph! [Emily and Jake laugh.] Murph: So last time, you guys began-- (laughs). You have to stop. You have to stop. Emily: That was-- Caldwell's one was really good at the end. Murph, over her: So last time, last time, you guys began in Ma Goblin's moving lab [clip fades out].

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 8

part 1 | part 7 | ao3

He finds himself on Cherry Drive by muscle memory alone. Quarter mile past Maple Street, take the third left, the second right; drive straight through the next stop sign and suddenly the Hagan house is coming into view around the bend, bathed in dim yellow light from a flickering street lamp. A 50s era ranch house, painted brick with a detached one-car garage, weeds sprouting through the crooked old stones of the front walkway and leaves scattered across the lawn in mushy browns and orange-reds.

It's not as nice as Steve's place is.

Was.

Whatever.

Steve blinks, shakes himself fully awake; feels a jolt of fear at the idea that he just drove here in some kind of fugue state because he doesn't know what he's doing here. Tommy left for college, and fuck Tommy, anyway.

He pulls up to the house. Slows the car to a crawl.

It's dark inside, all the lights turned off except for a single table lamp in the entryway window; shaped like a sea turtle, its belly full of blue-green light. Mrs. H. loves the sea.

He wonders if they're out of town or if they're just asleep.

The Hagans go to bed early, he remembers. He spent so many nights talking in a hush in Tommy's room; 8:45pm and they'd be lying side by side on the floor beside his bed, reading comic books or sports mags and whispering about nothing. Tommy'd always thank Steve for coming over because he knew his house was a little boring; he was the kid with old parents who went to bed early and kept the radio turned down and wouldn't let them have sugary snacks even on the weekends. Steve would always just knock their shoulders together and smile 'don't mention it' because he'd hang out with Tommy anywhere.

"Anywhere?" "Yeah, anywhere." "What about in a cave?" "Sure." "Under a bridge?" "Don't see why not." "In the belly of a whale?" "Now you're just being dumb." "Am not!" "Are, too." "Oh, yeah? Well- shut up!"

That was usually the part where they got in trouble for making noise, caught red-faced and laughing while they wrestled on the floor.

There's warmth in his chest at the memory, and that part, he expects.

But also...

Something about it makes heat flare in his gut, shameful and feverish as it flashes through his mind: the phantom press of Tommy above him as he pinned his shoulders down; the way the flush on his cheeks made Tommy's freckles pop; the breathless smile he gave, so close their noses almost brushed...

A light turns turns on in the Hagans' hall.

Steve hits the gas.

He drives for a long while, feeling like an asshole for burning through their precious gas money, but too— too something to fully care. He's alone on a highway with dark pastures blowing by, with the heat on and windows down, and he's circling back toward home when Bruce Springsteen starts to play, all croaky static over the spotty radio.

Born down in a dead man's town. The first kick I took was when I hit the ground.

Steve cranks it up and sings along. The song is cheesy, and he feels stupid, but he also feels free. Like there was a shackle around his throat and he didn't notice until it was gone. He shouts along to the chorus and then just shouts in general; long, guttural screams that feel like poison being purged. Tommy, his dad, the Russians, his mom. All of it, all of it spewing out of him into the cold night air.

He misses Carol suddenly. Her acidic attitude. The way it always ate through the worst of his sullen moods.

He can picture her now: perched on someone's lap in the crowded backseat, no seatbelt, manicured hand braced on the ceiling. She'd be smacking bubblegum and twirling a lock of her hair, and she'd roll her eyes at Steve's dramatics and ask whether he was done untwisting his panties yet. Steve would say something dumb and pervy in response, like, "Too busy dealing with girls' panties to focus on my own," and she'd roll her eyes harder and go, "God, you're fucking gross."

Carol's not here, though, so he just screams about her, too.

When he get back to Forest Hills his voice is hoarse. His body is tired; his soul is light. He's thinking, like: maybe he'll be okay. He'll channel his inner Claudia or Joyce and soldier on. Resilience, and all that shit.

He's almost smiling to himself when he turns into the park.

And then he sees the flashing lights.

There's an ambulance on his lot.

—

part 9

just gonna start tagging whoever commented the day before (if your settings will let me) bc i have the memory of a goldfish @a-little-unsteddie @slowandsteddie @pennyplainknits @thesuninyaface @hotluncheddie @messrs-weasley @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @blackpanzy @disrespectedgoatman @i-have-three-feelings @sirsnacksalot @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium

[sanguineterrain]

hiii! can i request reader being a vigilante and also jason’s ex? they’re on the same mission/have to work together and reader gets injured or smn?

thank you so much! I love your writing!

thanks for requesting! this turned into a whole ass one shot 😭 hope you like ❤️

jason todd x gn!reader. tw: fighting, exes, physical violence, reader is captured but they're fine, jason is NOT over you (and he doesn't want to be), making up, fluffy ending. 2k words (lol)

****

The Cave is exactly how you remember. Foolishly, you thought maybe it would've rotted after you broke up with Jason.

That's certainly how you felt.

But no. It's the same, and the other Bats are the same. Dick and Tim are there, probably because you're the most familiar with them... after your ex, of course... and Barbara already pushed the envelope by contacting you.

Still, Gotham is your city too. And if the Bats need an extra set of hands to protect the city, then so be it.

"Hey, glad you could make it," Dick says warmly.

At times, you envy how easygoing he can be. Even though he can have a temper, Dick Grayson, for the most part, shakes hands like a politician. He doesn't burn bridges. He doesn't hold grudges, at least not publicly.

You, on the other hand, are perhaps too much like his younger brother: you absolutely hold grudges, and you don't let go easily.

"Hi, guys," you say, trying to be civil. "What's up?"

"So—"

The roar of a motorcycle pulling into the Cave cuts Tim off. Quick anger soars through you as Red Hood dismounts the bike. He takes off his helmet.

You haven't seen Jason in a year. Judging by his physique, the breakup did not take a toll on him. If anything, he seems bigger than you remember. Asshole.

You can pinpoint the moment that he finally sees you, and he stops in his tracks.

"Oh, boy," you hear Tim mumble.

Jason is silent. You cross your arms, keeping your face neutral.

"I didn't know you worked with the Bats, Hood. Thought you flew solo."

Jason is quiet for another moment. Then he speaks.

"Things change."

"Clearly."

"Anyway!" Dick says, clapping his hands. "Pretty straightforward mission. Drugs, warehouse, bad guys, et cetera. We have to clear out these shipments tomorrow night, or they'll hit the streets, and we'll be too late. Robin and I will take Gotham Heights. Signal, Black Bat, and Red Robin will take downtown. And, um, you two can clear out the Bowery."

"Hood can handle the Bowery himself," you say. "Gimme another section."

Jason scoffs. You glance at him.

"Something funny?" you ask, teeth grit.

"Once again, you're biting off more than you can chew," he says, hands on his waist. "It's stupid and you're gonna get yourself into trouble. Just clear out the Bowery with me. Plenty of room for both of us."

"I don't know if you know this, but I actually do pretty okay on my own. Just because you're one of Batman's special little prodigies doesn't mean the rest of us can't get by."

You glance at the others. "No offense."

"None taken," Tim says. "You're far better adjusted than us, no contest."

Jason rolls his eyes. "C'mon. You don't have anything to prove to us. We know you're capable, but these guys are rough. We team up for safety."

"Oh, now you care about being a part of a team?" you snap. "You didn't give a shit when it was me asking—no, begging you and Roy to help me with the League mission in Sydney."

Jason's jaw tenses. "That was different."

"Guys, I think we should—"

"Why? Because you only get your hands dirty locally?" you ask, shaking with anger.

"Because if I had gotten involved, it would've put a target on your back," Jason says icily. "You would've been killed. You were nowhere near ready to take on the League. I wouldn't have been able to protect you and fight them."

"You know, right there, you sounded just like Bruce. Did you take tips from him?"

Silence. Jason's boiling with anger, you can tell.

"Bruce wouldn't have had the sense to stop you from going," he finally says, tone even. "He's not too good at that."

"Bruce would've cared enough to back me up. And he wouldn't have driven a wedge between me and my team."

It's just words; there's no way to know whether Batman would've actually backed you up. Probably not, considering his history. But it hurts Jason, and you take the moment to whirl around to look at Dick and Tim, who are wildly uncomfortable. Dick looks sad.

"It's better to team up," Dick says gently.

You bristle. "Whatever. I'll see you tomorrow."

You stalk out of the Cave.

Stupid fucking exes. Stupid fucking vigilantes.

****

"Okay, just to make things clear..."

"In and out. Report at the Cave," you say, tightening your equipment. "I got it, Nightwing. Over and out."

You silence your comm before he can respond. You're tired of their voices.

Thankfully, Jason has taken the hint and is on the opposite end of the Bowery. Which means you can slip away in peace.

You did this as a favor for Barbara, but now you're seriously rethinking getting reinvolved with the Bats. It never ends well.

The warehouses on the East End of Old Gotham are no problem. You clear out five within an hour. You check the comm briefly. It's pretty much silent, so you turn it off and keep going.

The West End, however, is a little harder.

Because you're only one person, someone figures out your pattern. You're clobbered over the head before you can drop in through the roof.

This is the last time you do a favor for anybody in Gotham.

****

You wake up tied to a chair. Your head pounds, and your lip is bloody. Not good.

"—way the Bat will show. They're a nobody vigilante."

"Tony, you're a fuckin' idiot if you think Batman doesn't know exactly what the fuck goes on in this city. Swear to God, I shoulda left you with Mom in Boise. Nothing but cotton in your head."

"Oh, fuck off, Al, you'd still be droolin' on your couch crying over Marie if I hadn't come back to Jersey."

"You little—"

"Very sorry to interrupt this family spat," you say. "But I'm on a tight schedule here, so if you could just speed things up..."

"Smartass, huh?" Al asks, waving a gun. "I wouldn't be so bold tied to a chair, toots."

"Toots? Are you a hundred years old?"

Tony snickers. Al glares at him and stalks over to you. He doesn't hesitate before whacking you upside the head with his gun. Your ears ring, and you hunch forward.

"Watch your mouth," he growls, and you're in too much pain to come up with a response to that.

Presently, you realize that your earbud is out of your ear. Probably destroyed. You have no other way of sending a distress signal. By the time you miss the report at the Cave, it'll be too late.

You were a failure then, and you're a failure now. Even your ex-boyfriend took pity on you.

Jason. God, look at how you'd left things. How his face had fallen when you'd called him Bruce. He used to love Bruce, and you know exactly what happened that changed that. And you used it against him.

Now you're facing the consequences. This is your own damn fault.

"Load everything into the truck," Al says into a walkie. "Then move out. Tell the others the same."

There's a crackled reply. Then shouting. Then silence.

You look up in surprise. Al curses and points at you.

"Stay here and watch them," he orders Tony.

"But Al, what if Batman comes here?"

"That's what guns are for, you freakin' idiot!"

You snort. As if guns could stop any of them, much less Batman.

But whatever. These guys probably didn't go into selling drugs because of their big IQs.

Tony and five other men stay to guard you. You work on trying to slip out of the handcuffs and rope.

Bang!

The first gunshot hits one goon in the leg. A second gets hit in the shoulder. Hip. Foot. Opposite leg.

Red Hood steps out of the shadows, then. Tony immediately looks sick.

"H-Hood? This ain't your territory, what're you—"

"You've got something of mine, Tony," Jason says, voice smooth and dangerous.

Tony decides that, fuck his brother, he's getting out of here alive, and runs. Jason doesn't pay him any mind, instead walking to you.

He cuts the ropes first, then picks the handcuffs. Jason roughly rubs your wrists and ankles, pushing blood back into your extremities.

"What're you doing?" you ask. "Go get him. He's meeting his brother downtown."

You can't see Jason's expression through the helmet, but if looks could kill...

"Hood—"

"What. The hell. Is wrong with you."

You scowl. "I didn't come here for a fucking lecture."

"Well, you're gonna get one. This wasn't the plan. And you turned off your comm? Are you trying to get yourself killed? You have a death wish or something?"

"It didn't make sense to put both of us in the Bowery—"

"You could've died tonight!" Jason yells.

"And wouldn't you have liked that!" you snap back. "Proves the fact that I'm a failure quite nicely."

Jason tears off his helmet. His eyes are wide with anger and... guilt. Helplessness.

He's afraid.

"Don't you fucking say that," he says lowly. "I'd rather die again than find your body."

"What the fuck do you care?" you snarl. "I'm not your responsibility, remember? What does it matter if I dropped off the face of the earth?"

"Because I still love you!"

All of your anger drains.

Your body buzzes like it wants to feel him again. Traitor.

"That would kill me," Jason finishes quietly. "And I wouldn't come back from that death."

Your mouth feels like you swallowed chalk.

"You love me?" you whisper.

"You're hard to get over," he says. "Still haven't managed it."

"But... you said our breakup was for the best."

Jason sighs. His anger fades. "It was. I was a jackass. I let my shit with Bruce and the Pit and everything get in the way of what was important. Which is you."

"You were good to me, Jay," you say. "And we were okay. Till... till Sydney."

Jason winces. "I should've handled it better. And I should've treated you better."

"You're a good man, Jason. I don't regret my relationship with you. I regret it ending."

He looks at you. His face is twisted in pain.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he says. "And you're not a failure. Not even close."

You scoff, your eyes wet. "Aren't I? Couldn't even handle a simple drug bust."

"No, you're not. Nothing about what we do is simple, even if we're gaslit into thinking so. In this life, you need someone to watch your back. Even B doesn't work alone."

You try to stand, suddenly feeling like a raw nerve. You stand up too fast, though, and blood rushes to your head. You might also be mildly concussed.

Jason immediately slips an arm around your waist as you teeter forward and puts you upright.

"Easy, sweetheart," he says, and doesn't let go until you're steady.

You raise a brow. Jason grimaces.

"Sorry. Force a' habit."

You scoff, suddenly shy. "Habit, huh? Still think of me as your sweetheart?"

"Never stopped."

You roll your eyes, but it's fond now. "Anybody ever tell you you don't know how to move on?"

"Mm. I've heard it once or twice."

Your lips tingle. You've missed kissing him.

"I'm sorry I compared you to Bruce," you say. "You're nothing like him."

Jason shrugs. "Some of me is exactly like him. The fact that I didn't put a bullet in anybody's brain even though they kidnapped you isn't me at all. But I forgive you. And I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't know the Sydney mission had festered so much."

"It's okay, Jay. You're right, I wasn't ready to take down the League or kill anybody. I'm grateful you stopped me."

Jason takes a careful step forward, eyes darting to your lips. You smirk.

"Hot for communication, are we?" you ask.

"Oh," he says, suddenly reticent. "Sorry. Too forward. Shit. I've... I've just missed you so much. I thought maybe you—that there was a vibe—but if there isn't, then—"

You take the last step and kiss him, and your lips buzz in satisfaction. Jason kisses back just as eagerly, hands flying to your waist and squeezing. But his hands roam, holding and cupping like he's been starved for the last year.

"I missed you too, Jaybird," you say between kisses.

[uracutieraka]

JJK and the obnoxiously nice new girl!

Chapter one

guide

The next morning you woke up to a soft knock at your bedroom door, grumbling as you rolled out of bed and walk over, opening it to reveal your teacher.

You stare up at him for a moment before registering that he wasn't Kugisaki.

"Oh! Gojo! Hi!"

"Y/n, it's 10 a.m."

Your face grows red as you begin apologizing, stops you by telling you it's fine.

"The principal isn't mad, which is surprising because he's always mad when I'm even 2 minutes late, but hurry up and get ready, he still needs to meet with you."

You nod and apologize, shutting your door and rushing around to get ready. After 30 minutes you come out, holding your toothbrush. You jump when you see Gojo sat at the small table, munching away on a cookie.

"Geez, I forgot how long it took girls to get ready."

You chuckle and excuse yourself to go brush your teeth.

Once you remerge from the bathroom you tell him to lead the way.

The walk is decent, 15 minutes. Which meant 15 minutes of the man asking you awfully personal question.

"So which parent is it that you're running from, or is it both?"

You stare at the back of his head as you two continue walking.

"Well, both of them I guess." He turns around to face you and you just shrug your shoulders.

"So," You chirp. "Can you see through that blindfold?"

"Eh, my cursed energy helps me see."

You hum and slowly nod your head, unsure of what he could mean.

"Well, this is where we part ways, just in those doors and down the corridor, you'll find him." You look ahead at the giant doors, with intricate art work and carvings in the wood.

"How long do you think this took to make? It's so beautiful..." Your voice is barely above a whisper as your fingers gently trace the art.

Gojo looks at you and hums quizzically.

"Hmm, never thought about it."

You nod as you begin your way to the doors, opening them and walking in. You admire the beauty of the building. The complexity of the wood workings and paintings.

"Y/n L/n?" A voice booms throughout the echo-y hall. Looking forward your eyes take a moment to adjust to the candle lit room. Once they do an older man sits at the end of it, making what seems to be stuffed animals?

"Hi! That's me!" A giant smile is on your face as you wave and rush forward to be in front of him.

He looks up at you and you shiver at his cold glare.

"Uhm, what's that you're making? It's super cute!"

He continues his cold stare and your smile slowly falters and you stand up straighter, clearing your throat and messing with the hem of your short skirt.

"Your parents called yesterday."

You now look down at your feet.

"What did they want?"

He sighs and pinches his nose bridge, pushing his sun glasses up.

"Look, I don't know your full story but I know why you want to be a sorcerer. And that's good enough for me. Just call your parents, they seemed worried."

You chortle and now he looks back at you.

"I promise they are not worried. If they call again just ignore it."

When you finally look back to him he has a sad look in his eyes, but he just goes back to sewing his stuffed animal.

"Well, if that's how you feel..."

"I'm sorry. I just, ugh! They're so stupid! I came here for a reason." You now plop down on the floor in front of him and tuck your legs to your side. He looks at you in surprise. Your hand reaches out and your fingers touch the soft fabric of the stuffed animals surrounding him.

"What's up with all these anyways?"

He doesn't remember the last time someone treated him so normally.

"They're used for my cursed energy."

"Nice." You don't question him further, instead you just watch as he keeps sewing. He continues going about his normal process as you silently watch. After a few minutes you speak up again.

"Sewing is such an interesting art form."

"You think sewing is an art form?"

You tilt your head and furrow your brows.

"You don't?" You stand up and brush your skirt down, reaching a hand out to him after.

"It was really nice to meet you sir." He stands and takes your hand, shaking it.

"You as well."

You smile at him and turn, skipping off towards the door.

Once they shut, he laughs to himself.

"Sewing. As a form of art?" He says to no one but himself.

Once you exit the building you have to take a moment to adjust to the bright sun light. Once you do, you quickly spot the second years. You run down the steps and call out for Panda. He turns around and waves you over.

"L/n! Hey!"

"O-M-G! Hey! So funny running into you guys here!" You giggle at your own joke and look behind him to see the girl who you learned was Maki Zenin, and the boy Inumaki.

"Well, I mean we are at school." The girl grunts out, scowl on her face.

You slightly pout but it quickly falls from your face as you look over to the other boy.

"Inumaki! Just the person I was looking for!," You take a few steps towards him and lean up close to his face, you raise your arm up and make a hook with your index finger, pulling down the fabric covering his face. "Wow! Are those marks from your curse? They're so cool!"

He jumps back a bit, but nods his head slowly up and down, fixing his uniform to cover his face again.

"Hey, what the hell is your issue? You can't just go up and mess with people like that?" You look back over at the girl with big eyes, curious as to why she's being so rude.

"My issue? I didn't think I had one." You smile at her, though the way your voice is slightly strained sends shivers down the three's spines.

"Well..." She starts but is cut short by Inumaki's hand on her shoulder. She looks over at him and he nods 'no' to her.

"Tuna Mayo." He points at you.

You smile at him and wrap your arm with his, pulling him forward.

"I want to talk to you! I have so many questions about your communication style.," You turn back around to the other two second years. "Mind if I steal him for a bit?" Maki goes to say something but Panda cuts her off.

"Not at all!"

They watch as you two walk off, your arm still wrapped around Inumaki's as you chat his ear off.

Once the two of you are out of ear shot Maki turns towards Panda.

"What the hell?" She says.

"What? Inumaki needs to make other friends than just us!"

The two of them begin to bicker back and forth about the situation.

“So, Inumaki, do you only use ramen ingredients to communicate?”

You two are sat down in a shaded area of the courtyard. You have a small note pad in one of your hands and a pen in the other. Eyes trained on him.

Inumaki doesn't think he's ever had this much attention in his life, like ever. He can feel the heat rush up his neck all the way up to the tips of his ears.

He nods along as you ask questions.

"So, earlier, you said 'tuna mayo' and pointed to me... so does that mean you wanted me to keep talking?" He nods his head.

"Salmon."

You watch his movements closely, quickly scribbling something in your notes. He takes notice of the way your tongue slightly pokes out while you write. Once you finish you look back up at him.

"So is salmon your version of 'yes' and 'no'?"

He nods again, giving you a thumbs up.

After a few more questions he motions for you to pass him the note pad.

He flips the page and writes something down, when he's done he passes it back over to you.

'If it's easier we could always just text?'

You look back up at him, a small smile on your face.

"We can totally do that! But I still want to learn!"

You fish your phone out of your bag and fumble around with it for a moment. When you pass it to him, the contact screen is already up.

He notices the way you already put his name in.

Inu-mahi-mahi 𓆛

He chuckles and puts his number in. He hands you back your phone and you pout at your screen for a moment.

"Okay, you need to pull this down for a minute," You stick your tongue out again and you lean forward, reaching for the zipper on his shirt. You zip it down, just enough so the fabric falls away from his face. You smile and lift your phone back up. "smile, its for your contact photo!" You peek around your phone screen to give him a toothy grin.

He hesitates and goes to zip it back up, shaking his head back and forth. You reach out and grab his wrist.

"Inumaki, just smile."

He lets out a deep breath and gives you a small smile. He hears as the shutter clicks and once you drop your phone down he zips his uniform back up all the way.

"Look! So cutie!" You shove the phone in his face and he blushes at the absurdity of it all. You hadn't even been here a full 24 hours and you were already making yourself an important part of his life.

"L/n? Is that you?" You look across the field to see Kugisaki and the other two first year boys.

"Hey! Kugisaki! It's meeeee!," You giggle a bit and look back over to the older boy. "Well, I guess that's my cue!" You stand up and put a hand out for him. He grabs it and you dramatically grunt as you pull him up, though you didn't do much. He bows slightly to you as you excuse yourself.

"Ill text you later!" You wave and smile at him over your shoulder before you run off towards your fellow classmates.

"Why were you with Inumaki?" Yuji questions as you approach the group.

"I want to learn how to effectively communicate with him!" You make a show of standing up extra straight and pointing your finger up in the air, with closed eyes and a posh accent.

"Mhm, sureeee, that's it." You, Yuji, and Kugisaki quickly turn your head towards the dark haired boy.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kugisaki questions.

"I don't know." He shrugs and turns around, walking away.

"Hey! Wait!" You now begin to chase after him, the other two closely following.

He turns around for a brief moment before quickening his pace, until he was in a full sprint to get away from the three of you.

"Get away from me!" He shouts, still running, trying to escape but its to no avail. Yuji lunges out effectively tackling him. He falls with a groan.

You now stand over them and extend your hand out to Megumi. He takes it and pulls himself up, glaring over at the other boy. He goes to take his hand away but you grip it tighter.

"Nuh-uh, tell me what you meant."

He tugs once more but sighs and rolls his eyes before giving in.

"You definitely think he's cute." your face grows hot at his words.

"What?! I do not!" You pout, but now he has you thinking about it. He is in fact cute.

"Mhm, sureee. I totally believe that."

"Okay!," You drop your voice low and lean up to his ear. "He's kind of cute!"

Megumi pulls away and just chuckles at you.

"What did you just tell him?" Yuji whines out.

"Nothing!" You reply, voice sweet with a closed eyed smile to pair with it.

"Liar!" He says.

You just giggle and stick your tongue out at him, hiding behind the tall dark haired boy. Yuji goes to lunge out for you but you shriek and duck farther behind Megumi.

Yuji tries to go around but you run around the other side, effectively getting a head start to run away from him. He's quick to follow.

The other two watch as you both disappear around a corner.

"So, what did she tell you."

Megumi turns to look over at the short haired girl who's now standing next to him.

"She totally thinks Inumaki is cute."

"Knew it."

[thelivingautomaton]

MANNNNNNNNN ok. not to get my SEVERANCE brainworms all over the place but i literally cannot stop thinking about this show. also i keep reading theories on reddit and some of them are really good and some are unbelievably stupid/media-illiterate. so i am dumping my wild predictions/theorizing/thoughts on season 2 here. Please Enjoy Every Bullet Point Equally(TM)

OKAY let's get the big one out of the way: it seems pretty apparent now that cold harbor (and maybe all of the datasets mdr is given to "refine") is binning memories/experiences/brainwaves into severance chips, likely in order to reformat or rebuild someone's personality from the ground up.

this reddit post sums a lot of the evidence up but tl;dr you see an electron microscopy image of neural axons, as well as an etCO2 statistic, which is typically used to monitor respiration of someone who's in a coma or on ventilation

MOREOVER, the four aspects of mdr's data line up with kier eagan's four tempers (woe, frolic, dread, malice -- i've also seen it pointed out that this aligns with the four mdr workers, and in the original pilot script there's a reference to "needing" four workers, but iirc they all work on separate files??), and apparently one of his Whole Things(TM) was the idea that you can neatly sort a person's entire personality into those four boxes

the numbers provoke an emotional response in the refiner based on their interpretation of the data, which we can surmise is likely neural/electrical signals of some kind, specifically from brains that have been frozen or cryogenically preserved and are slowly being thawed. hence all the stress over "finishing" files on time, before they "expire" (i.e. brain thaws too much)

the opening credits for season 2 places a HUGE emphasis on big swollen misshapen heads, on brains, and also on ice...including a blink-and-you-miss-it glimpse of a crashed car sinking into the ice, which takes us into our next big point:

gemma obviously didn't die in the car crash BUT!!! lumon taking her and (presumably) replacing her body with a double (mark says he identified her but that she was also "burned" so that's obviously questionable) was actually something of a random fluke. for whatever reason the circumstances of her death made it so that she was ideal to use as a guinea pig for "part-time employment"

again, kind of going off the s2 opening credits here and the image of the car sinking into the ice -- obvs mark visited the tree where she crashed, but i feel like i remember he had to drive on a bridge overlooking a body of water to get there? maybe gemma and the car both fell in and were frozen (since everything in SEVERANCE apparently happens in the wintertime, lol)

i mean, it wouldn't surprise me if we learn that the car accident was "arranged" by lumon??? (either purely to harvest bodies or potentially if gemma turns out to have been involved in anti-eagan stuff on the DL) but idk, i don't love the idea cos i don't like it when shows try to tie LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE THING together into the big overarching mystery, y'know? like, some things are really just down to dumb luck and chance

i also don't think miss casey herself is a clone of gemma, so either her body was WAY less fucked up by the car crash physically than we might otherwise think, or lumon has some top-secret super-healing tech on the testing floor. maybe both!

ANYWAY, remember "allentown"? mark s's first-day fluke, where he completed a file in one day? that was him refining gemma into miss casey the first time around. YADDA YADDA LOVE TRANSCENDS SEVERANCE he literally put the splintered icy fragments of his dead wife back together again because she LIVES IN HIS VEINS guys. and now he's doing it AGAIN with cold harbor. this is why lumon was so desperate to keep him around even while they fired irving and dylan at the drop of a hat: they know he can get the job done, ESPECIALLY when it comes to working on gemma/miss casey. (see also: mark w commenting about how his team from the branch that shut down never made quota)

i've seen the idea tossed around that all the refiners are assigned to someone who was emotionally close to their outie (e.g. irving's deceased father) but i really don't think that's the case -- like, dylan says mark's freshman fluke let lumon devise new techniques for refining to cut down on the time it takes to finish a file, and istg i can see it perfectly in my head: cobel asking mark s how the FUCK he managed to do that and him just being like "i don't know, the numbers looked...scary??????" and her just. rolling with it.

(also i feel like that's why dylan's generally a good refiner -- he can read people! his outie knew what to say and how to act to impress the door factory guy in s2e2!)

so lumon really really needs cold harbor to work. if it's not because they care about gemma SPECIFICALLY for some secret reason, it must be that they care about the technique. lumon (i.e. the board and/or the eagan family), like so many corporate overlords before them, are selling immortality.

i'm on the fence about whether they're trying to resurrect/immortalize kier eagan specifically -- like it would make the most thematic sense, and they have a ton of material FROM his life certainly to work with, but he's supposed to have died in 1939 and cryonics tech just wasn't advanced enough at the time. but also the world of SEVERANCE is pretty distinct from our own so i guess it's plausible

i feel much more confident in saying they're trying to get the technique working specifically for the sake of current ceo jame eagan, who is an old decrepit fart. imo the "revolving" he mentions to helly in the s1 finale is key to this -- like, it kind of sounds like eagan-speak for rotating through/swapping into a new body???

this MIGHT be where the idea of cloning becomes involved, which i can see supported by the emphasis in the s2 opening credits on babies (including baby kier at the end ofc), but i also just had the even more fucked up thought that what if the end goal is to upload the eagans' personalities (and those of their chosen cronies) into the bodies of severed workers. hence the continued necessity for a severed working underclass as well as their ruling higher-ups -- it's a body farm, an endless cycle of severed workers toiling away to let the rich live on and then having their bodies/minds/souls co-opted when they've lost their other utility. oh my god helly was right THEY LITERALLY ARE LIVESTOCK

guys holy shit what if the season ends with jame (or KIER) eagan's personality getting uploaded into miss casey's chip and overwriting miss casey (and also gemma?? idk i feel like mark scout/mark s are both going to have to come to terms with the idea that gemma as she was is capital-g Gone, even if her body and brain are still sort of alive). and then season 3 has dichen lachman chewing the scenery as creepy old man eagan. I THINK IT WOULD BE FUN AND ALSO FUCKED UP

okay so what about cobel, right? like, obviously she's been drinking the eagan kool-aid, she is All In on immortalizing kier (or jame or whoever). but there's more to it than that!!! she's the one harping on about reintegration being real and possible, AND she's desperate seeking for any signs of it during mark s and miss casey's wellness sessions. why? cobel wants to revive her mother charlotte (we see her medical tag on cobel's eagan shrine), but she wants HER MOTHER, not a blank slate -- in other words she's rooting for the chips to not function properly in order to truly resurrect someone who's been dead

in particular i think this is why she flipped her lid on mark at the end of s2e2 when he asked what she knew about gemma -- like, idk maybe it's confirmation bias at play but to me her primal scream felt like it was coming from a place of...jealousy? like, "how DARE you ask me that, how are YOU the one who's allowed to get your loved one back and I'M being promoted up the ladder so lumon can get me out of the way even though MY motivations are pure". that kind of thing

cobel's attitude towards lumon and helena in s2e2 is SUUUUUUPER ambiguous -- i think she's going to turn from outright enemy into kind of a weird "enemy of my enemy is my friend" thing this season?? especially since i got the feeling that she really did kind of care about mark and devon in her own supremely weird, fucked-up way

oh god you guys. what if her "mrs selvig" persona was cobel imitating her own mother, mid-atlantic accent and corny outdated references to clark gable and all. FUCK

also the fact that she's looking for miss casey and mark s to remember each other implies that reintegration is possible even without outside interference with the chip itself (i.e. however reghabi reintegrated petey). and you know what?

i think she's right.

THE BIG BOY THEORY: MARK SCOUT AND MARK S WILL START TO SPONTANEOUSLY REINTEGRATE THIS SEASON

i will live and die on this hill, ben stiller i swear to FUCK

what's the overriding symbolism in the season 1 opening credits?? the line between innie and outie is porous (or "mushy", if you will). black sludge seeping from the trash cans that's made of all your other selves (also reflecting how irving dreams of his outie's black paint). mark's innie and outie selves constantly chasing circles around one another until at the end they both collapse on the bed...and then collapse together as a single person.

what's the overriding symbolism in the season 2 opening credits???? not just "mark scout, i.e. mark in red pajamas, delving into lumon's mysteries", not just "mushy confusion of innie and outie feelings re: helly and miss casey" -- mark's innie and outie selves working together. innie mark pulling outie mark out of the severance chip. innie mark hoisting up the curtain dividing outer and inner worlds to let outie mark through. innie mark CARRYING OUTIE MARK IN HIS ARMS. do you see the fucking vision.

of course that's also coupled with the final image of the credits: mark bursting through and out of his own head. which i think emphasizes that there's going to be conflict as well as cooperation between mark's disparate selves (especially when it comes to everything involving the helly/mark/casey love triangle)

why did mark look like he was having a goddamn seizure when he was coming down the elevator. why did he glimpse a mysterious figure following him in the hallway. WHY THE FUCK WAS HIS VERY FIRST INSTINCT TO BOLT FOR WELLNESS AND LOOK FOR MISS CASEY!!!!! (okay this could also conceivably be due to him yelling to devon that she was alive literally one second ago but still)

i think mark's "spontaneous reintegration" is also more or less an insane fluke, basically a product of the fact that he's now working on gemma/miss casey's refinement data AGAIN and both his innie and outie selves are starting to blur together regarding their shock and turmoil over the realization that gemma is alive (and probably loads of other stuff too while we're at it).

but idk, maybe spontaneous reintegration also occurs naturally over time? irving is also having some bleed-through and iirc he's been at lumon the longest of all of them

shit dude. what if outie burt ALSO has bleed-through and that's why he followed irving and was crying. honestly what the fuck was even the deal with that, i don't know!!!!

anyway i imagine that "spontaneous reintegration" would really put a kibosh in lumon's plans to permanently rewire and wipe the brains of severed folks in order to pave the way for an immortal ruling class. also i thought the way they did petey's hallucinatory flip-flopping between his lives/selves was awesome and i would like more of that, please. (also: i miss petey, y'all)

i think if they do end up going this route it's gonna be spoonfed to us pretty slowly though -- like, s2 will slowly build up the mystery of "what the fuck's going on with mark reintegrating", then s3 is his two selves coming to terms with...All Of That

those are all of my big idea theories but i also have some smaller bullet points to address:

dylan's gonna visit his family in the """visitation suite""" and it 100% is going to be paid lumon actors. and the giveaway is gonna come at the end of the episode when we cut back to outie dylan's life and his wife (or one of his other kids, who knows) is terminally sick (maybe wheelchair- or bed-bound?), hence outie dylan's desperation to find another job post-firing

that is one million percent helena eagan down on the severed floor (although i can see the argument for it being helly r and she's just not comfortable sharing her real experience on the outside). her shady story aside, i think britt lower is CRUSHING IT as "helena pretending to be helly but it's kind of off-putting and fake because it's helena's idea of how helly would behave". like, it's giving me the same vibes as in FRINGE when fauxlivia pretends to be olivia and then seduces/sleeps with peter. real ones know

RICKEN IS NOT A FUCKING SECRET EAGAN!!!!!! DEVON IS NOT SECRETLY IN ON ANYTHING (besides keeping her brother safe)!!!!!! HIS FRIENDS ARE JUST PRETENTIOUS SHITHEELS!!!!!!!!!!!!

as much as i would literally chew glass (positive) for mark s and miss casey to be A Thing, i feel like narratively and thematically it's not gonna work with the show's overarching themes of like, struggling to process grief and selfhood and figuring out what makes you you (or someone else their own independent self). gemma is Gone and you can't bring her back and you can't cut yourself off from the grief and the pain. mark has to reintegrate (literally and metaphorically/emotionally) in order to resolve his issues and move on

this show is so!!!!!! OOOOOUUUUGGGGHHGHGHH

[aquatic-armageddons]

Team "Whore"tress 2

CW: Not well proofread, foul language, unprotected p in v, double penetration, deepthroating, cunnilingus and tit fucking

---

Today was supposed to be Y/N's day, a day she'd been planning for since she joined the RED team. She'd even been grilling them about it when it was steadily approaching. Days like this were supposed to be happy, cheery and all around memorable.

But who would have thought it'd end in sheer hurt and disappointment?

Y/N just wanted at least one birthday wish, just one tiny gesture that shows her how much she is cared about, but apparently, that was too much to ask for.

The team acted like they never knew and just went about their normal business. And when Y/N tried to speak to them about her special day, she was not even allowed to finish her words, as they grew aggravated with the constant pestering.

"Goddammit, Y/N! Can't you stop getting on my case?! I do not want to hear what you gotta say right now!" Medic exclaimed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Medic, I didn't mean to-"

"You have been getting on everyone's final nerve, Y/N." Spy interjected. "Do you not know the meaning of the word 'humility'?"

"But I just wanted to tell you-"

"Tell us what?" Sniper chided. "That you're sorry for nearly costing us a battle today?"

"But I-"

"Enough! Tiny girl should stop. Go to some other place, now!" Heavy barked loudly, making Y/N quiver and shrink into herself.

"Fine." Y/N growled bitterly to herself, try desperately to choke back the salty tears from her eyes, unsuccessfully.

After she left, tension lingered for the other mercenaries to embrace. Soldier and Demo exchanged worried glances, as well as Engineer and Pyro.

"You guys ever stop to think why she's acting like that?" Scout questioned.

"Why should we?" Medic muttered. "It's not like it's so important that we can't wait."

Scout shook his head in exasperation. "You all are so fuckin' stupid, I swear. Do I gotta spell it out for you?"

Demo cocked his head to the side. "Please do, 'cause I don't get why the poor lass has her panties in a bunch."

It was at this moment when Scout snapped a little. "It's her goddamn birthday, dumbasses! I was the only one who remembered, and you all forgot?! God, you seriously piss me the fuck off!" He shook his head in disappointment.

Everyone's face paled as the weight of their mistake sunk in rapidly. An uncomfortable pang of hurt coursed through their hearts, and they made no attempt to hide the shame on their expressions.

"Scout cannot be serious.. " Heavy whispered.

"This is not April Fool's Day, maggot. Why are you messing with us now?" Soldier blurted.

"Why would I make this up, you guys? Does the poor girl mean nothing to you at all?" He looked at him with a cold stare.

"You're wrong, mate. She means everything to us." Sniper griped.

"Then we gotta fix this. Now."

---

A knock on Y/N's door echoed through the hall of dorms. The only noises audible from the other side was her soft cries and sniffles.

God, this was heart-wrenching to its core.

"Mon chéri, may we come in?" Spy spoke tactfully.

"Go away..."

"C'mon, little lady. We just wanna talk, that's all." Engineer pressed.

The door suddenly swung open to reveal an agitated Y/N. Her eyes were bloodshot from the many tears, and her face was slightly flushed and puffy.

"What's there to talk about?! I've been reminding you bastards for WEEKS, and you just up and forgot! You don't get to come here now like you give a damn!" Y/N's throat clenched up as a new set of tears fell.

"Fraulein, please!" Medic pleaded with her. "We're sorry, sweetie. Is there any way we can make it up to you?"

Y/N thought for only a moment. "You guys really want to prove you're sorry?"

"Da, more than anything!" Heavy exclaimed.

"Alright, then. Prove it."

"But how, lass?" Demo urged.

"Use your imagination..."

The other mercenaries' eyes grew wide with understanding as Y/N slowly removed her blouse. Even though she didn't speak another word, the message was obvious.

"I believe I should go first, short stuff. Since I'm the only one who remembered, right?" Scout whispered in Y/N's ear, sending a chill down her spine.

Scout gently pressed his lips against hers, but soon after initiated a deep, passionate makeout session. His lips then traveled down towards the nape of her neck as he deeply inhaled her scent. Y/N shuddered as she felt Pyro's hands grasp onto her backside, gently kneading and massaging.

Sniper slipped his fingers underneath the waistband of Y/N's bottoms, his fingers gently teasing her clit. They circled the hardened nub with ease, making Y/N more soaked than she was before. He then slowly removed his hand and sucked on his fingertips, not breaking his eye contact with her for a second.

"Fuck, Sheila. You taste bloody gorgeous...but I'd rather eat this straight from the source if you don't mind..."

Sniper laid back down on the bed beside him, beckoning Y/N to give him a better taste of her juices. She happily complied, taking off her bottoms and slowly climbing towards Sniper's head.

"Go on, Y/N." Heavy stated. "Give Sniper a taste of wet, juicy pussy."

She didn't need to be told twice. Slowly lowering her lips above Sniper's, she let out a shaky moan as he swiped his thick tongue across her folds. Sniper growled in satisfaction, wrapping his arms around Y/N's thighs, locking her in place. She tilted her head back as she rode his face, running her fingers through his hair.

After getting a better taste of her, Sniper switched positions and laid her on her back, spreading her thighs while apart. He beckoned Spy over, silently telling him to get a taste of her sweet cunny.

"Go on, mate. It's the best tastin' cunt you'll ever have..." He groaned.

Spy hummed in compliance, lowering his head and attaching his face to hers. Y/N arched her back and moaned shamelessly, jaw stacking and saliva dribbling out of her mouth. Even though she shut her eyes, it didn't stop Spy from savagely devouring her cunt.

She felt the bed's weight dip on both sides of her head. She opened her eyes to see Soldier's hard cock on her left side and Engie's on her right. Taking one in each hand, Y/N began stroking slowly, illiciting a groan from both men.

"Damn, honey..." Engie began. "You sure know how to use those hands, don't you?"

"She sure does, Engie!" Soldier bit his lip as Y/N licked his cock from base to tip, swirling the tip with her tongue. He ran his fingers through her hair as he suddenly thrusted down her throat, making her gag.

"Let's see how these tits fit around my cock, lass..." Demo climbed over Y/N's torso, placing himself in between her breasts. He let a sliver of saliva dribble down onto his cock and thrusted back and forth, earning himself a satisfied moan.

"You're not one to lie, Bushman. She tastes quite wonderful..." Spy agreed, licking her juices from his mouth, like observing the taste of fine wine. "Scout, get one with her, would you? You said you were first, yes? And it is rude to keep people waiting."

"Fine, you rat." Scout hissed. "But I'm taking my time here, unlike you forgetful fucks."

He and Y/N swapped places, and he laid himself on his back. Y/N didn't hesitate to slam herself onto his shaft, causing both of them to moan out in unison. Scout grasped onto Y/N's behind, guiding her on his cock as she bounced up and down.

"Lean onto Scout, Devushka." Heavy insisted. "I will take your behind." Y/N did as instructed, and felt Heavy's massive member tease her backdoor. She began to cry out in slight pain, earning a scowl from Medic.

"Gott, mein friend! You need to prep the poor girl before fucking her there!" Medic scolded.

Heavy rolled his eyes. "Da, da, doctor."

He spit onto his fingers, making them well lubricated before inserting them into Y/N's backside. Y/N cried out again, but with more pain than pleasure. Her moans grew louder as Heavy slid himself inside her, making her holes completely occupied.

"Isn't this a sight to see?" Spy stated with a chuckle. "This is far better than any verbal apology we can give, and you know it, Mon chéri."

A few minutes passed and at least everyone's had a round with Y/N's throat, tits, pussy and behind. But that wasn't the icing on the cake, at least not yet.

Y/N kneeled on the floor as she was surrounded by all nine mercenaries, her mouth open and tongue sticking out, longing for the last of their seed to cover her face.

"Fuck!"

One after the other, they released the last of their essence onto Y/N's face and down her throat. Her hair was a sticky, white mess, as well as the rest of her body. Her pussy and backside were sore, her lips were slightly swollen and her eyes were still bloodshot from the tears of pleasure she wept. She would have passed out then and there, but Medic scooped her up, carrying her to the bathroom a few feet away.

"Fraulein, we truly are sorry for not remembering your special day. Do you forgive us?" He whimpered as he placed her in the tub, turning the dial to hot.

"You guys are so silly. I forgave you the moment you knocked on my door earlier!" Y/N smirked. She let out a deep sigh of relief when settling in the bath, the hot water easing her sore spots.

"Good. Because the last thing we want is to have any more tension in the base." Spy noted.

"But I'm glad you're feeling better, and we promise not to forget your special days anymore. Isn't that right, gentlemen?"

---

A/N: THE LONG WAIT IS FINALLY OVER!!!!

I want to apologize for not releasing this when I said I would. I don't like going back on my word at all, but I wanted to recover from my illness (a little) before completing this. Last night was absolutely horrible for my lungs and stomach (coughing for a straight hour, hacking up phlegm and puking as well 🙃🤢). But I'm feeling a lot better today, and I plan on seeing my doctor this week. In the meantime, please let me know what you think and send me asks for what headcanons/fanfics you wish to see in the future!!!!