#Lyric's Vignette Series

[lyrical-fanfics]

Was I too forward? (Jamil ViperxFem!Reader)

Sorry this took so long! I struggled so much with my motivation! I hope this satiates y'all for a little bit!

This is part of a series of one-shots that will later tie into a longer series on my AO3. They're meant to be read like the vignettes in Twisted Wonderland, so if you want a sequel please let me know. Also, let me know if you think you know what the dorm the reader is based on!

The reader is not Yuu. The reader is a student at the OC sister school Fantasia College for girls

3rd person POV

Genre: Fluff, comfort,

Fem!Reader

Whispers had been accompanying the cold winter wind that blew through the combined campuses. As soon as (Name) had gotten back from her winter break at home, she heard the insistent chittering of Scarabia students as they talked about their experience.  

‘Another Overblot’ hissed through their teeth. ‘He went crazy’ they whispered under their breath. ‘Kalim is the only reason he’s still where he is.’  

These remarks, these hush words, they were all too familiar. She knew there was something deeper with every story. She also knew that with each overblot, there was power there.  

She winced as she heard another whisper. She might not have known the full details, but she knew that there was more than just ‘going crazy’.  

Overblot had been on the rise since Fantasia merged with NRC, but the Fantasia College for Girls often tried to cover up any overblots that happened, lest the old superstition about female mages and their dangerous tendencies crop up again. The Fantasia College for Girls had trouble negotiating a merge in the beginning, as Fantasia had recently gone through a scandal grand enough to where the Headmage stepped away for some time, leaving the three sister substitute Headmages that Fantasia had today. No one really knew the extent of the scandal, and most of the evidence had been scrubbed.  

Despite having been practiced in the art of a cover-up, Housewarden Rebecca’s overblot spread like wildfire. (Name) could do nothing for her friend and Housewarden as Rebecca absorbed the abuse around her. She admired Rebecca, and every pointed glance or silent sneer ached (Name)’s heart as Rebecca put up with every single bit of it. Whispers sparked embers, and hisses of disapproval fed the flames like fresh tinder. (Name) had known Rebecca for years, yet she couldn’t help her in the complex situation that led up to her overblot. She carried that guilt with her every day.  

NCR didn’t cover up the overblots as well as Fantasia did. The current kindle of whispers was focused on Jamil Viper. While (Name) didn’t know him well, she had been watching him for the past few days. Maybe it was the grace that was similar to Rebecca’s, or maybe it was his silent ambivalence to the words around him while he continued to work hard at school that made her focus on him. Either way, she found herself staring more often than not.  

Jamil was highly aware of this staring, however, and he dealt with it along with the gossiping of the two campuses. Each whisper was like a cigarette being extinguished on his skin. He endured while rebuilding the image he so carefully had to hold in front of him, the image of a devoted attendant, but part of him was glad it shattered. Part of him wanted to crush the pieces beneath his feet and scream at the world. Kalim knew everything now, and his behavior had changed somewhat, but he knew that his image was in tatters. Any sort of trust, any sort of reputation that he carefully crafted, grain by grain, was gone. He didn’t know what was more frustrating, the fact that he had to build it back up, or the fact that he almost didn’t want to. 

While he was frustrated with piecing his image back together, he was also rather perplexed by the girl who kept staring. Most people had one of two gazes, it was either one of disdain or a simple glance before scurrying off. This one, however, just stared. Her gaze was hard to read, but she never approached, despite its intensity. She looked like she wanted to, but she never did.  

He would catch her gaze from time to time, but each time she would blink, turn, then scurry away. He was getting a bit annoyed by it, and eventually, he couldn’t help but feel his curiosity overtake him.  

He had his chance one day when he saw her running about with a binder in her arms. She of course gave him a glance as she passed by, but paid the price dearly. She ended up tripping over an uneven part of the pavement, launching herself across the walkway. Her binder flew upward, scattering some papers that were covered in schematics and plans, along with a lengthy list of things to do. Jamil panics as he rushes over to (Name), whose face, hands, and knees were now scraped up. Blood was starting to well at her knees.  

“Are you alright?” Jamil’s immediate concern caused other onlookers to hesitate with helping. (Name) was clearly flustered as she tried to scramble to her feet, but her knees betrayed her. Jamil hovers his hands over (Name) as she attempts to get up again, and he encouraged her to grab ahold of him while she did so.  

“My binder…” She pointed out as she gripped Jamil’s jacket. He lifted her up while turning his head, spotting the binder on the ground, splayed open with multiple pages scattered on the pavement.  

Jamil responds with a sigh “Sit up for me first and I’ll grab them.” His hand gently lead (Name) to sit up before grabbing her precious binder and papers that went flying. He took note of some of the papers, remarking that this girl must have a busy day ahead of her. He turned his head before sighing again, as the girl was clearly trying to stand back up again.  

After gathering up everything, Jamil went back to check on (Name), who was still in a bit of shock after eating the pavement that hard.  

    “Don’t try and walk this off,” He chastised, “You’re way too wobbly for my liking. Just relax and let me take care of this.” Jamil took it upon himself to bring her to the closest infirmary and take some precious time out of his day to care for (Name).  

The infirmary is primarily empty, as most students stop pretending to be sick once classes are out for the day, and most dorms take care of any minor injuries themselves. Because (Name) was running about the NRC campus, she didn’t have the option to pop back into her own dorm. After patching her up, Jamil finally had the opportunity to talk to the girl that had been incessantly staring at him. She had been quiet the entire time, and not even a hiss of pain came out of her when he applied anti-septics. He did finally get to read her expression slightly, as her eyes seemed trusting and soft. 

After applying the final bandage, Jamil decided to scold her. “You should be more careful next time, you were completely distracted…” He trailed off at the end, thinking about why she was distracted. Sure, she was staring right at him when she tasted concrete, but there had to be more than that.  

“I suppose I was distracted. Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.” (Name) smiled a little before looking down at the bandage job, she was right, he wasn’t like the rumors. He’s just as smart as she thought he was too. What a brilliantly complex person. She could feel her heart rate spike as Jamil watched her.  

Jamil shifted his jaw with a bit of curiosity and exasperation. She seemed calm, which was good. She wasn’t fighting against his recommendations either, which was a relief for once.  

“You’ve been staring quite a bit. If it’s not too much of an intrusion, may I ask why?”  

“Oh, so you noticed,” (Name) nervously played with a strand of hair, and Jamil was quick to snap back.  

“How could I not have noticed? We’ve made eye contact several times!” Jamil pouted and (Name) giggled.  

“Right, right, I was hoping a little too hard that you didn’t notice.” (Name) admitted. She looked at her palms which had been professionally cleaned and bandaged. “I guess I admire you.” 

Her genuine smile and timid tone she took while admitting her admiration gave him whiplash. His eyes bulged and his body tensed. His throat closed up as he lost his words. Sure, a sense of pride also welled up in him as well, but he didn’t expect such a compliment from the girl that had a staring problem.  

“Sorry, was that a bit too forward?” (Name) blushed and looked elsewhere, but the lack of her gaze made Jamil feel a bit lonely. He cleared his throat to regain composure.  

“No, I was the one who asked. I appreciate your honesty.”  

It had been a little while since he heard such praise or admiration. His overblot incident caused his carefully crafted facade to be trashed, but maybe it hadn’t reached the Fantasia campus. He didn’t know if he wanted to correct her or not, as he wanted to continue to have someone admire him, for just a little bit.  

(Name) smiled as Jamil allowed himself to get a bit closer. Who was she exactly? Why did his reputation not tarnish with her? His eyes couldn’t help but finally take a better look at her while she rested.  

He continued to watch over her, asking if she needed food, water, or anything she desired, but she denied most inquiries. He soon became comfortable enough to sit on the edge of her bed and have a type of conversation he’d been sorely missing. She took him seriously, and her calm aura relaxed him. She held a realistic admiration for him, but she expected nothing from him at the same time. Her conversations were interesting, and he enjoyed that she could keep up with his own quips and responses.  

Just as Jamil became enthralled with the idea of sparking a friendship with (Name), his phone interrupted the moment between the two with its buzzing and ringing. He grumbled as he whipped it out and looked at the name plastered on the screen before apologizing to (Name) and taking the call. (Name) only gave him a wry smile, she could tell through his face and tone that Jamil wasn’t exactly thrilled to speak with the person on the other end.  

“Kalim? Is there something wrong?”  

“Jam-iiiiiil!” Kalim was so loud over the phone that (Name) could hear the entire conversation. “Jamil! There’s an emergency!”  

(Name) watched as Jamil’s face scrunched and fell as he went through all the stages of grief in less than 2 minutes as he listened to the totally avoidable emergency his Housewarden had gotten into.  

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay. I’ll call someone from my dorm to get me.” (Name)’s independent assurance made Jamil feel as if Cupid’s arrow had just grazed him. It was a relief, but now he didn’t want to leave her. He felt torn about leaving her in the infirmary, but he knew that chances were better than not that he’d see her again. He’d just have to bide his time and get to know her better. For now, he had to accept that this was all he was going to get.  

    Jamil pointed at (Name)’s phone, then opened his hand as if he was asking for it. (Name) obliged, unlocking it as he spoke to Kalim over the phone. She gently placed it in his hand with contacts open. “Just calm down, I’ll be there soon, but before I get there, I need you to listen to everything I’m about to say and do it.” as he spoke the instructions, he quickly entered his number into (Name)’s phone and did his best to memorize hers. After completing his task one-handed, he gave (Name) back her phone. (Name) watched as Jamil got up and walked toward the door, but before he was about to leave, he quickly turned around, smiled at (Name), and waved goodbye.  

(Name) smiled as she watched him leave, and waited patiently for a member of her dorm to arrive. Once a dorm member did, she was surprised to see (Name) had waited there instead of just returning to the dorm herself.  

“It’s unlike you Vice-Housewarden (Name), usually you would be in such a hurry to complete your list that you’d be fighting us to get out of bed!” The member flicked her mouse ear as she placed her hands on her hips. She wasn’t particularly afraid of confronting (Name), as such questioning was never seen as blasphemous.  

(Name) shuffled the sheets off of her, then swung her legs over the edge of the bed before smoothing the wrinkles out of her uniform skirt. She could only smile at the curious mouse beastman girl.  

“I don't know, I was shown kindness by someone I knew they had, but it felt so special I didn’t want it to end. Maybe I just waited because I was hoping for something.” (Name) bluntly admitted, and her dorm member furrowed her brow.  

“You really are an open book about some of your thoughts, huh?”  

(Name) laughed at the student’s comment “Ah, was I too forward again?”  

[minisugakoobies]

It's You - Choi San | 3 AM

Pairing: San x Reader Genre: smut, crack, fluff, angst, roommates to lovers, BFF’s Lil Bro!AU Series Rating: M (18+) Drabble Warnings: sneaking around, sloppy making out, lots of cuddling and kissing, honestly this is super soft, drunk San is a whole different type of menace, a little angst on OC's part, pet names deployed as weapons (baby) Word Count: 2.1k Disclaimers: SFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: He was only supposed to be a temporary roommate. Your best friend’s little brother, crashing on your couch for a few weeks. That’s it. How did this happen?

A/N: This started with talking about drunk San with @minttangerines and @kiestrokes, and then @moni-logues made me miss this couple, so boom! New vignette! I should warn you that I wrote this over the course of 2 days, entirely between the hours of midnight and 5 am because I've been staying up wayyyy too late to watch the Coachella livestreams (can we talk about Chellateez?! because holy shit!), so it's probably a mess and it's unbeta'd, so… blame any typos or incoherency on my fucked up sleep schedule! 🥱

Lyrics are from "Moondance" by Van Morrison, inspired by that one toktoq of San singing that song, which absolutely killed me.

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment, or send me an ask to be added! You can also send me any ideas/thoughts you might have for a future scenario - who knows, it might end up in a drabble! 💕

It’s You Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ ATZ Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ Main Masterlist

It’s three in the morning, and you’re wide awake, at your desk, working frantically on an article whose deadline is mere hours away. For not the first time tonight, you curse your natural inclination towards procrastination and scrub your hand down your face, wishing you’d chosen a different career. 

There’s some noise outside your door and you realize San must be home. He’d been down at the Blue Bird with Hongjoong, drinking and hanging out with Wooyoung as he bartended. From the way San’s shuffling around, it sounds like Woo had been his typical kind self and given San more generous pours than he should have. A loud “oof” resonates, and you hear the armchair scrape the floor a bit, as if he were setting it back in its place. You wince, hoping he didn’t wake his sister, who has an early shift and needs to be up at dawn.

“Noona. Nooooooona.” Tap tap tappity tap. “Are you up? I can see - I can see your light.” 

San raps on your door, calling out to you in a voice that’s hushed but maybe not quite as quiet as he thinks it is. From his spot on your bed, Nero lifts his head off his paws at the sound, then blinks at you with his bright green eyes. 

“I know. He’s loud as fuck, isn’t he?” With a cluck of your tongue, you quickly hop up and open the door. San must’ve been leaning against it, because suddenly you’ve got a mountain on top of you, a loose-limbed one at that, eagerly but clumsily wrapping its arms around you. “San!” 

“Hiiiii,” San coos into your shoulder, where he’s buried his face. You shudder slightly as his breath tickles your skin exposed by the tank top you wear, and stagger away from the door enough to close it quietly as you can, not an easy task to do given the giant mass of man hanging his dead weight on you. 

“You know, your sister is sleeping just on the other side of this wall,” you remind him, but he doesn’t respond, too busy lathering the column of your neck with tiny kisses. “San. Come on, sit down.” 

With some stumbling from San and a not insignificant effort on your part, the two of you make it over to your bed. Your attempt at coaxing San into a sitting position fails miserably as he promptly splays on his back, pulling you on top of him. Nero hops off the bed in a huff. 

You go down like a sack of flour, not a gram of gracefulness in your fall, but San appears not to notice when your chin bounces off his sternum or your knee rams his thigh. He sighs contentedly, wrapping his arms around your back, tucking you against him.

“Mmmm. So nice,” he murmurs, resting his cheek against the top of your head. 

It’s three in the morning, and you need to finish this damn article. Except that right now, your body is telling you that what you really need is to stay exactly where you are. Because the minute the warmth of San’s embrace surrounded you, your stress melted away. The steady rise and fall of his chest calms you, makes your own breathing slow. You close your eyes, nestling closer to him, sliding your own arms around his waist. You could so easily fall asleep like this. 

But he can’t sleep here. 

“San. San, are you awake?” 

“I’m awake,” he replies, but with closed eyes, which doesn’t really give you a lot of confidence in his response. “I am,” he insists when you shake him, rolling his head away, but he still doesn’t look at you.

“Don’t fall asleep,” you warn him sternly. “I mean it!” 

San smiles, the one that tells you that he knows you’re going to give in to him, which is the smile you tend to see him flash the most often, because you’re weak for him and always giving in. But this isn’t one of those times when you can indulge him. No matter how much you want to. 

“Wish you’d come to the bar tonight. Wanted you there.” 

You knew that. He’d told you as much when he’d texted earlier. Unfortunately, you had to turn him down for the sake of remaining gainfully employed. He’d tried to convince you otherwise at first but finally said he understood. And then sent you a series of sad selfies, each one more pathetic than the last, lips puffing to an extreme. Because he understands the power that pout holds over you.

It’s embarrassing how bad you’re down for this man.

San’s fingers dance idly down your spine, and you sigh, eyes slipping shut again as you speak. “Believe me, I would’ve rather been there with you.” 

He hums, fingertips quickening their light minuet. He mumbles something into your hair, low and unintelligible from the way his lips are smushed against your head, so it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s not talking, he’s singing. 

“... marvelous night for a moondance, with the stars up above in your eyes…” 

“San,” you begin, but before you can warn him not to get any louder, he does so anyway, raising his beautiful voice a little, starting to get into it. 

“A fantabulous night to make romance, 'neath the cover of October skies…”

“Shhh!” Your shushing is cut short by your giggling, as you clap a hand over San’s mouth. “Oh my god, now is not the time for this!” 

This is one of San’s more notable habits - when a song gets stuck in his head, you’ll hear him singing it for days, just walking around the apartment humming the melody or, if he has an audience, belting out the lines. He knows how much you love his sweet tenor. Another fact about you he’s filed away to devastate you with at the most opportune times.

Like when you need to kick him out of your bed. 

He continues singing despite your hand pressing on his lips, slurring the words directly into your palm. His eyebrows are working overtime, top half of his face playfully conveying whatever lyrics are being smothered against your skin. He’s so ridiculous, so over-the-top, even at three in the morning when anyone else would be exhausted, like you felt before he walked into your room, since his energy is infectious and perked you up better than the multiple cups of coffee you downed in your desperate attempt to stay awake. That’s San for you - he’s always giving you something when you need it - his time, his help, his energy. 

So you decide to give him something back, and replace your hand with your mouth, drawing him into a tender kiss, imbuing it with all those things you feel but never say. His muffled singing becomes a hum becomes a moan, at first surprised, then pleased. One of his hands drops to your thigh and with a bit of urgent tugging, he maneuvers you on top of him, chest pressed to chest.

His kissing is only the slightest bit sloppier when he’s been drinking, wetter from his tongue caressing yours with somewhat less skill than usual, but it’s never bothered you. You like seeing this side of him, looser with his inhibitions, with whatever holds him in place - or holds him back. One day you’ll ask him to show you more, when you’re both sober. 

And when things are different. Less… ambiguous between the two of you. 

If you reach that point. 

“Noona.” San whispers, thankfully pulling you from the heavier thoughts threatening to sink you right out of the moment. You open your eyes to look at him as he pecks your cheeks.  “I like kissing you.” 

You grin, letting your forehead knock against his. “Yeah, I kinda noticed.” 

“Aren’t you going to say it back?” The look he gives you would melt the hardest of hearts. This is why you’re not afraid to be needy with San. There’s no reason to be, not when he’s just the same. 

“I like kissing you too,” you declare, kissing the tip of his nose, laughing at the way his eyes cross as he follows your lips. “But now’s not the time for that, either.” 

“Then what time is it?”

Laughing, you gently guide him into a sitting position, keeping your arms looped over his shoulders. His lust is morphing into sleepiness, eyelids drooping as he gazes at you, and your heart goes so soft at the sight of him. 

“It’s time for you to go to bed.” 

“Okay,” he chirps, immediately flopping onto his back again. 

“Ohhhh no, not here. You gotta go. I still have to finish my work, and you…” The words stick in your throat. You can’t be here. You don’t want to say them. You want him to be here. Tonight, and tomorrow, and on and on. 

But that’s a conversation for another time. Not three in the morning.

“You have to go,” you groan, sliding off the bed and grabbing his arms, less gentle and more insistent this time. “Come on, get up!” 

San lets out a whine of protest. “But baby, why can’t I stay here?” 

Oh, he would drop a ‘baby’ now, slipping it in so casually, so naturally, like there’s nothing unusual about him calling you that. As if it’s not something new he only started doing the other day, happening maybe a handful of times since. 

Since the two of you have been doing this undefined thing, there’s really only been one unspoken rule. You sleep in your bed, and he sleeps on the couch. Even on the nights when Haneul’s working the late shift, or she’s over at Jongho’s. You never know if she’ll come home early, so you don’t risk it. It’s just easier this way.

Doesn’t mean you like it, though. 

“Because. If Haneul catches you coming out of here - “

The sound of a door opening makes you freeze right down to your tongue, leaving your sentence unfinished. Your head swivels towards your own door. A pair of feet pad down the hall, getting closer, then fading away, until you hear another door being closed. The bathroom. 

“Noona.” 

You turn to find a sober-looking San staring at you. He reaches out, hands settling on your hips, holding on to you as you stand between his legs. Clinging again. 

“She’s in early today, right?” 

The two of you probably know Haneul’s schedule better than she does. You nod.

“Then I’ll just stay in here. She’ll think I never came home.” 

He makes it sound so simple. So reasonable. He’ll stay here until she leaves. Why didn’t you think of that? Is it because you don’t like thinking of San with someone else, even if said person is an imaginary person who exists solely to provide an excuse that will allow you to get what you want? And if you get what you want now, it’s only going to hurt more when you can’t have it anymore?

Yeah, that’s probably it. 

“I don’t know…” you bite your lip.

“Come on,” he wheedles, drawing you into his lap again, cupping your face with both hands. “Let me stay with you. Don’t you want me?” 

And there it goes, the last remaining bit of your resistance. 

“Okay.”

San seems a little shocked, face lighting up in delight, and you wonder if it’s at how quickly you agreed, or that you agreed at all. Maybe both.

“But we have to be quiet. So, you know…” You trail off, gesturing wordlessly. 

“No moondancing?” He emphasizes the word heavily, lifting a brow, and you roll your eyes but grin as well.

“Right, none of that.”

“Just cuddles?” 

As if he needs to ask. You nod. “But I’m not coming to bed until I finish my work.” You reclaim your seat at your desk, folding your arms over the back of it, trying to give the appearance of someone with a solid backbone, since yours is apparently made of pudding. 

“That’s okay,” San says, already tugging his shirt off, then his pants, until he’s only in his boxer briefs. He peels back your comforter, sliding into the soft sheets, and again the action is so natural, so normal, like he does this every night, that something in your chest constricts. “I’ll just wait for you.” 

Your first thought is that you should inform him that he’s going to be waiting a while, but then again, maybe he won’t. 

You’re feeling suddenly inspired. 

(It’s three in the morning, and you’re falling in love.)

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Taglist: @sweetnspicy-noona @krystal-a @jennylychee @hiefisch

© 2023-24 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[violetsiren90]

New Rules | Don't pick up the phone.

Table of Contents: Teaser (Prologue); Don't pick up the phone; Don't let him in

Pairing: f*ck boi!Jisung x f!Reader; Jisung x Minho

Genre: choose your own adventure; drabble/vignette series; angst and smut; f*ck buddies; college/post grad

Summary: Jisung has had you wrapped around his finger for the last half-decade. You know good and well that it's time to move on…but you can never seem to follow your own rules long enough to shake him.

*Based on the lyrics of "New Rules" by Dua Lipa

Content warnings: 18+ (minors, dni) Explicit smut; toxic relationship; partying (alcohol and marijuana usage); characters commit sexual acts while partaking in controlled substances; sexual frustration; masturbation; fantasizing; flashbacks/backstory; lust and resentment; possessive Minho; dom Minho/sub Jisung if you squint; voyeurism; hand job; orgasm

Word Count: ~1600

Author's Note: Well, here we go! This is gonna get messy. Thanks to your poll responses (thank you so much for voting!!) we have a Minsung plot line. The next poll will be at the end of the drabble. I hope you enjoy this sinful little indulgence! ❤🔥

As always, if no one has told you today, please know that you're loved, and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

You know he's only calling 'cause he's drunk and alone.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you watch your phone buzz beside the stove. A groan escapes your lips as you let your head sag between your arms, outstretched to clutch the cheap, white tile of your kitchen countertop.

You’re wet just from seeing his name scroll across the caller ID.

Pushing away from where the device continues to ring out, you press your fingers to your temples and screw your eyes shut.

No. This has to stop.

The sudden phantom sensation of a pussy drunk tongue laving lazily over your swollen clit has you shuddering violently. As your eyes snap back open you shake yourself, stripping off your sweatshirt, suddenly hot.

The phone begins to buzz again, but you retreat into your bedroom, shutting the door as you lay against the cool softness of your comforter. You know what needs to be done…or rather, you know who absolutely cannot be, and your dominant hand has already begun to breach the the waistband of your leggings. You can feel him, smell him, taste him. You chest heaves.

You hold the onslaught of unholy memories at bay as your fingers brush over your mound.

Unfocused gaze aimed at the blades of the ceiling fan as they cycle hypnotically, your mind reaches for an image you’ve recalled and pushed away countless times. Your lips part as your fingers find your warmth. It was the moment that had sentenced you to the madness, an erotic and hollow awakening. You could see it now, as if three years hadn’t passed.

…Jisung.

Han Jisung was a fruit that hung from the tree in the center of the garden. One that many thirsted to taste. You ran in very different circles when you first met, sophomore year of undergrad. He was living life in the fast lane and you were diligently working your way through a six-year education plan. And yet, you became something like friends in the minutes between two and three pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He would drop by the student success center for assistance with business economics, though you rarely talked about that, and amongst the textbooks and index cards and vending machine nourishment, you discovered him.

You found him to be different than he presented in a crowd, especially his typical one. He was shy and sweet and silly with an unbelievable amount of intelligence that he carried around like a key he hadn’t found the lock for - something that kept him awake at night and brought his nails between his teeth. When he wasn’t subdued by a quiet reserve, he wielded his boyish good looks and a charisma that could be harnessed at will with nearly total recklessness, and you fell no less a victim to his cheeky charm than the rest of the student body.

Of course, you’d known of him before he’d sat down at your tutoring desk that first day. Everyone did - and not a few in a way that had earned him a specific brand of notoriety. You’d seen them time and again, the passersby who waved and giggled with their friends at the recollection of a mouthful of his cock.

And you’d taken it for another part of his restlessness, the promiscuity - an easy outlet for all of that vibrating, frenetic energy. Until that night.

Jisung was in a punk rock group, and a good one for being so amateur. The five of them, The Maniacs, had established a fair amount of celebrity on campus. He was close with his bandmates, especially one in particular who you’d taken for his best friend - Minho. He talked about him constantly.

Lee Minho was another fruit on the tree in the center of the garden. Devastatingly handsome, his eyes and lips held a kind of cold cruelty that only seemed to sharpen his beauty, and he sang with the voice of a fallen angel. The senior was The Maniacs' front man and walking lingerie department, considering the sheer number of lacy underthings that had been tossed in his direction. Jisung worshiped him, and it wasn’t unusual to see the pair sharing a cigarette in a grassy corner of the quad, casually draped over one another like two cats in the sun.

Jisung lived in his world, and you in yours. Your circles turned with earth and the moon, intersecting and deviating in natural course. And then, on the Thursday before spring break that year, he did something he’d never done before - he invited you to one of his gigs. It was a house party at the vacation home of an old-money alum. You surprised yourself by saying you’d go. Uncharacteristic of you. You didn’t expect to know a soul aside from Jisung, and it meant calling out of your shift at work…but recently, you’d begun to fantasize.

You’d begun to dabble in dangerous and preposterous daydreams in moments between your encounters, and created a little monster he’d fed just enough with the invitation. You were a sensible person as a rule, and tonight you felt like being reckless. Like being indulgent. So you went.

You dressed the part. Did yourself up. Drenched yourself in your roommate’s perfume.

You showed up on the late side, and the band had already been playing when you arrived. He looked glorious strapped to a guitar in a fitted tank top and distressed skinny jeans, glinting silver hoops catching the light at his ears. You smiled at him when he found you in the crowd and he waved. Then, after the set, he found you, handed you a joint, and told you with a wink to save it for after the show.

Your heart pounded the rest of the night.

You watched him tear up the room with the rest of the band. You cheered uproariously. You danced with your drink raised over your head. If it was a dream, you were sleepwalking for all you cared. The more buzzed you became the fuzzier the lines between reality and fantasy began to appear.

You stayed late into the night, as you’d promised. And sometime after midnight, when the majority of the guests had dispersed and those who remained were locked in bedrooms or passed out on cushioned furniture, he found you. He took your hand and tugged you towards the backyard.

From the couch in the sitting room, sprawled out and sweating with smoke wisping from his lips, Minho watched.

Jisung led you out to the pool, and you both sat on the edge - you with your calves dipped into the cool water as he sat cross-legged beside you. He lit the joint, and you passed it back and forth as you talked. You talked like you always did, but with something new hanging in the air, an energy that had you humming with anticipation beside him. He was so relaxed. You wondered if it was the weed. You hoped it was you. And then he looked at you like he did in your daydreams and his eyes dropped to your lips.

Then his phone chimed.

Glancing at it he sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he stood and told you he’d be back in a minute. So you waited. And waited. Then you pulled your feet out of the pool, picked up your heels, and went to find him.

You didn’t have to look far.

The moonlight was streaming through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the wall facing the expanse of the yard and across the sitting room, casting the bodies of sleeping party-goers draped over chairs and loveseats in the cool marble of its illumination. Everything was silent and still - so the soft, desperate groan from the couch on the far side of the space was enough to pull your eyes to its source.

You sucked in a breath, your lips parting and mouth going dry as the scene before you seared itself onto your retinas like an obscene tattoo.

Minho was seated low on the cushions, the black leather of his shapely legs splayed wide to accommodate Jisung. The younger man sat in his lap, his back to Minho’s chest, skinny jeans pushed down his thighs while the older man methodically stroked his exposed cock. Jisung’s eyes were screwed shut, his features contorted in ecstasy - mouth hanging open as he whimpered and gasped.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away…and then you saw his. Minho’s. 

Gleaming and dark and full of a lustful wickedness, they locked you in their gaze over Jisung’s shoulder. As he watched you he began to twirl his wrist, tugging Jisung’s cock in torturous circles as he twisted and pumped so that it began to weep from its tip. Minho’s lips curled up in a sensuous sneer.

You should have run. You should have turned around and shut the door on everything. But you were hazy on weed and liquor and you swayed, frozen where you stood, as you felt a sticky dampness gathering at the gusset of your panties. It was the most arousing and gutting thing you had ever seen.

Minho’s left hand raised to snake around Jisung’s throat, two lithe fingers pressing at his pulse point. Jisung jerked and twitched over him, as if trying to restrain himself from writhing under the ministrations of Minho’s fist. It was intensely lewd, how naked he looked in all his clothes with his belly and cock and the tops of his thighs exposed to Minho’s touch. The zipper on the sleeve of the singer’s leather jacket kept time like a tinkling pornographic metronome as he jerked his bandmate closer and closer to oblivion.

Your pulse pounded in your pussy as you watched your friend’s face twist in carnal euphoria, hips jerking erratically as his white cum surged over Minho’s hand to drip over his bared tummy and hips.

You watched Jisung. Minho watched you.

Your eyes snap open and you pull your sticky fingers from your folds, crying out in frustration as your climax eludes you. Rolling over, you rip open your nightstand drawer to grasp for a vibrator.

The toy buzzes you brutally over the edge.

Your phone has stopped buzzing in the kitchen.

~To be continued~

[charmandabear]

Touch

Summary:

A series of short vignettes illustrating Astarion's relationship to non-sexual touch evolving over time.

Pairing: Astarion/Reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags/Warnings: fluff, fluff, and more fluff (with a very brief appearance from possessive!Astarion), act 3 spoilers

Read it on AO3.

Happy Valentine's Day! I originally wrote this as a gift for Cherie and now it's a gift for all of you~

“Really?”

He looked so scared. Like a lost little boy scrambling for something to hold on to. You needed him to know just how much you care, and words didn't seem sufficient.

Slowly, cautiously, you approached him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You could feel his whole body tense beneath you, as though he was bracing himself for something terrible. You held onto him, trying to imbue the gesture with all of the feelings of love and affection that you had developed for him since the day he held a dagger to your throat. Soon he softened, his muscles relaxed and you felt his hands gingerly settle around your lower back. But you didn’t want to push your luck with him, so after a moment you stepped back and looked at his bewildered face.

“You… you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” A hint of a smile touched his lips, before he let out a quiet laugh. “Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing,” he added, almost conspiratorially. “Or what comes next.” He hesitantly held out a hand, long fingers unfurling like a wounded animal coming to you for help. You gently placed your hand in his, afraid to spook him. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when he placed his other hand on top of yours.

“But I know that this… This is nice.”

***

You still spent evenings in Astarion’s tent, but now in a companionable silence rather than heated passion. He would read while you plucked on your lute, jotting down notes as they came to you. Occasionally he teased you for hitting a wrong note, or would offer surprisingly insightful feedback on your lyrics. He liked listening to you hum to yourself while you composed, but he would never admit it to you. And when the time came, you would leave for your bedroll to trance separately, just as you always had.

Until one night, when you strapped your lute to your back and started to get to your feet and a strangled noise from Astarion stopped you.

“Yes love, what is it?” you asked, almost worried that something was wrong. The tips of his ears were flushed pink from having recently fed on your blood, and they twitched slightly as he struggled to form the words.

“You can… if you want… trance here tonight. If you’d like that,” he added quickly, petulantly looking away.

Your breath caught in your throat. “Would you? Like that?” The words came out dry and uncomfortable, but you didn’t want your eagerness to scare him away.

“I mean, it’s only logical,” he offered as an excuse. “You’re so exposed out by the fire on your bedroll. It’s safer if you stay in here, with me. Safer for you, of course.” He flashed his signature roguish grin, and you found his deflection charming. You kneeled down beside him and planted a kiss on his forehead.

“You’re right, much safer,” you agreed, and the two of you settled beside each other, foot to head in order to fit in the cramped space. You breathed deeply as you settled into your trance, and you weren’t sure, but you thought you may have felt the back of Astarion’s hand brush against yours.

***

Karlach receiving her second upgrade from Dammon was a momentous occasion. You all sat around the fire, laughing and drinking, while Karlach touched everyone and everything in sight. You would touch her knee when she made a particularly hilarious joke. She pulled Wyll into a headlock while teasing him for how they met. Shadowheart kept stealing little kisses when she thought no one would notice (but you all did.)

What you didn't notice was Astarion grinding his teeth next to you. You didn't see his muscles tense as you grabbed Karlach’s hand, or when she ruffled your hair.

So when it was time for everyone to turn in and you gave Karlach a long hug goodnight, you were surprised when Astarion grabbed your wrist and pulled you out behind the Last Light Inn.

He pushed you up against the stone wall, kissing you fiercely, one hand twisted into your hair and the other pressed into your lower back. Your heart raced as you clung onto him, hands scrambling for purchase on his well-worn shirt.

“Mine,” he growled between kisses, pressing a knee between your legs and the sudden pressure against your mound elicited a light whimper. You pulled him into you, desperate to feel every inch of him in a way you hadn't for so long.

Your head felt cloudy as he broke the kiss, the two of you breathlessly panting. His hands remained tight around you, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your waist.

“What was that about?” you breathed heavily, still reeling from the passionate kiss.

“No one can touch you, you're mine,” he seethed, and immediately returned to his assault on your lips. You turned your head for air and he trailed his hungry kisses down to your neck, scraping his fangs across the healed bite without breaking skin.

“Wait, what?” Your confusion didn't stop the breathy groan that escaped your lips as his tongue ran along the shell of your ear. As much as you were enjoying seeing this side of him again, you pulled him back slightly.

“What?” you repeated, concern coloring your features. He scowled and looked away like a stubborn child.

“I don't like seeing other people touch you when I… can't,” he grumbled. You tried to suppress a laugh.

“I mean, sweetheart… you can,” you tease, touching his face almost as a demonstration. But you stopped as soon as you saw his pained expression.

“But I won't. If it makes you uncomfortable, love, I'll keep my hands to myself,” you said lightly, ducking your face to try to gauge his expression. He let out an exasperated groan and pulled away from you.

“And there you go, being all reasonable and selfless about it,” he grumped, crossing his arms. You reached out and touched his arms, encouraging them to uncross with a little squeeze. He relented and you slid your hands down his arms until they were holding his.

“I'm here, with you. We can go at whatever pace you need,” you said quietly. “But there is something in between no contact at all and having me up against a wall.” You flashed him a flirty smile, and his icy expression melted a bit.

You stood there for a few moments, holding his hands in yours, your thumb lightly stroking the back of his.

“Fine. I'm… I'm trying. Thank you for being patient with me. Although I wouldn't have expected anything less.” His features softened and he looked a little embarrassed by his outburst. You plant a tender kiss on his forehead.

“And like I said, I can keep my hands to myself. I make no promises about Karlach, though.”

***

“I've been dead in the ground for long enough. It's time to try living again.” He turned to you, and very gently, took your hands in his. “With everything that life has to offer.”

Your eyes sparkled as you looked at this man who had been through so much. The man who walked away from the ability to feel the sun on his skin, to see his reflection, to taste food and drink again. The man who chose to keep himself, to keep you, instead.

His hands may have been cold, but he radiated with a warmth you hadn't seen before.

“Meaning…?” You were almost afraid to speak, as though it might break a spell.

“If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded,” he said with his signature charming smile. You studied him closely, trying to figure out if this was another deflection or if he was being sincere.

“Sounds good to me,” you joked, trying to match his tone. He suddenly let go of your hands and you were worried that you did something wrong.

“You know, I didn't care for you when we first met.” His brazenness made you laugh. “But I do now,” he was quick to add. “Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance.” For the first time since you met him, he looked genuinely happy.

“I love you. I love this. And I want it all.”

He placed a hand up to your cheek and you leaned into his palm. You breathed in his scent deep, relishing in the bergamot and rosemary, feeling a tingle where his skin made contact with yours.

He leaned forward and planted an almost featherlight kiss on your lips. You would’ve been content to sit here forever, his hand to your cheek, and you would never want for anything else.

Then again…

***

Your heart shattered when Astarion sprinted off the pier when dawn finally broke the horizon. You knew that he didn’t want you to follow, and it took your entire strength of being to stay put. You were going to miss lazily tracing circles onto his skin as the two of you basked in the warmth of the sun. Getting rid of the tadpole was clearly a net positive, but you were all too aware of the toll it was going to take on him.

The rest of you trudged off to the Elfsong for a much deserved rest. With Wyll and Karlach in Avernus, Lae’zel flying off on the back of a magnificent red dragon, and Astarion still hiding in the shadows, your group felt small. You tried to laugh at one another’s banter, but it rang hollow. The only person who seemed to be genuinely enjoying themself was Minsc, and frankly you envied him right now, not a thought in that empty head of his.

Soon everyone silently retreated back to your room upstairs, all too content to sleep the day away. It had been a treacherously long night and an even longer morning. You found that you couldn’t trance properly without Astarion at your side, however. You fidgeted while trying to lie still, something you hadn’t struggled with since you were a youngling.

Eventually you gave up and returned to the bar of the Elfsong. The atmosphere was still sleepy, everyone quiet from the overwhelming events of the past few days. Alfira plucked on her lute while Lakrissa wiped down untouched tables.

You couldn’t tell how long you sat there until Shadowheart returned, looking significantly more refreshed. She perched on the arm of the cushy chair you had curled up in, tossing her silver braid over her shoulder.

“You look like you could use a drink, or several,” she laughed, and you nodded graciously in response. She patted your cheek affectionately before bounding over to Alan behind the bar. The others began trickling in, and you moved over to a table where you could celebrate properly. Gale made some witty quip and Halsin barked a laugh in response, and just like that the day’s tension eased into a weary but overall joyous energy.

But as night fell, you couldn’t help but glance at the doorway every thirty seconds, just to see if he returned. Jaheira noticed how twitchy you were, and she rested a warm hand on your knee.

“Don’t worry, little cub,” she said in that soothing voice of hers, “he’ll come in his own time.” You worried at your lower lip, doubt swelling in your heart. But just as soon as she finished speaking, Astarion burst through the door dramatically, looking only a little singed. He swaggered a bit, and his cheeks were tinged pink - he had just fed.

“Miss me, darling?” he sang and clapped his hands on your shoulders. You gazed up at him adoringly, your fingers lightly dancing across his knuckles. He collapsed in the seat next to you and without hesitation, he grabbed your legs and rested them in his lap. He almost looked giddy, a far cry from the pain and embarrassment plaguing his features that morning. He quickly fell into the conversation, joining Shadowheart in teasing Minsc. He absentmindedly stroked your calf with his thumb and you needed to take a sip from your drink to hide your growing smile.

***

The invitation from Withers surprised you. Not because you didn’t think he could track you down, he’s an all-powerful god, of course he could. Mostly it was because you didn’t realize just how sentimental he was.

You needed to spend the whole day of the party running errands in Baldur’s Gate, so you told Astarion that you would meet him at the Emerald Grove Environs in the evening. You wanted to pick up little trinkets for everyone, so you dashed about the city, checking each person off your list.

The smell of the camp hit you like a wave when you arrived. Memories came flooding back, of tending your wounds by the fire, or laughing at one of Karlach’s jokes while eating Gale’s famous wild boar stew.

You spotted Astarion immediately, hovering a few meters away from the food table. He looked dashing in his brown leather tunic with gold embroidery. You vaguely wondered if he had spent the afternoon carefully finishing the trim.

As soon as you were within reach of him, he pounced on you with a hug. His feet stumbled slightly as he swayed with you in his arms, his rich scent overtaking your senses. You felt so warm in his embrace despite his chilled skin. When he finally pulled away, he was beaming and your heart soared.

“I do feel a little bad keeping you all to myself. After all, I get to see you every night,” he laughed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “Go on, go mingle - enjoy your time with the others. Bless them with your presence.”

You gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze as his hand lingered on your cheek.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready,” he added in a low voice, eyes dreamy. “I’ll always be here, my love.”

[vsynthbday]

happy anniversary to "Outer Science" (アウターサイエンス) by Jin (じん)! this song came out 11 years ago today.

art by sidu | youtube upload | august 31st, 2024.

[Image description: A screenshot from the official music video for "Outer Science". It depicts a character from the "Kagerou Project" series, Konoha in the "Snake of Awakening Eyes" form, standing while looking up at the camera with a mischievous look on their face. Behind them are multiple black snakes with red eyes. There are black and red particles and lines around them. The background is an overhead look at a brown tiled floor. There's a strong vignette overlay. Overlayed are lines of white crosses. Towards the sides of the image is large white 3D floating text that reads the japanese lyrics of the song. End image description.]

[queens-of-spirits]

The Poolverine Playlist

So as I mentioned in the latest chapter of my fic, I have a Poolverine Playlist. I had some people say they were interested so here it is! Please let me know if you have additions or edits to these songs to share! It’s under read more because it is loooooong. I was going to add links but tumblr will not let me add that many.

Like a Prayer by Madonna (3 versions). You know why this is here, I know why this is here, no explanation needed, it is their song

The Power of Love by Huey Lewis and the News. It’s the song that plays while Wade is searching for his dream man a wolverine

You’re the One that I want - From Grease. The Honda Odyssey song!!! The thing that, combined with the come hither motions, the taunting, the belt grab, and literally ever other part of this scene, makes it clear that there was a little more than fighting going on in that car.

If I Could Turn Back Time by Cher. I know this one is more from the second movie, but the themes of time travelling to undo past mistakes (specifically of cruel worlds like those initially shared between them) really fits their story

The Masochism Tango by Tom Lehrer. My personal alternative soundtrack to the Honda Odyssey scene. They both were enjoying stabbing each other a biiiiit to much for this not to be fair game.

Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) by Edison Lighthouse. I can’t stop imagining this playing over a series of domestic vignettes post-movie where Logan realizes he’s in love. Also, there is hand-holding imagery, you’ll see a lot of that in this list.

Problems by Mother Mother. Particularly the first few verses. The whole finding love in a strange place while locked up in a cage is very them (“Not all of you was asleep,” anyone?) and that first bit about the singer believing that the subject is good enough for heaven but they aren’t? I can see the edits in my mind’s eye. The best part? It works no matter who you imagine as the singer.

Wrecking Ball by Mother Mother. This could be either of them, but I just can’t help by see Logan dealing with his anger and violence and idea that he ruined his worlds and then the two coming together to be fucked up and break shit together.

Curses by The Crane Wives. This is so Worst Wolverine. His world is destroyed and it’s his fault, but then Wade comes along and makes it all easier somehow.

Tongue’s & Teeth by The Crane Wives. Again, so Logan it HURTS. Feeling like a monster that hurts or destroys every good thing and will ruin Wade too, but willing to accept the fact that Wade seems to know this, but doesn’t care.

Predator by The Crane Wives (I really like their music lol). It’s on their latest albums and again. It really embodies the character of Logan to me. Tim’s hard to describe without just showing you guys the lyrics, so honestly go listen to it guys.

Sticks and Stones by The Pierces. This one is hard to describe, so please trust me and listen to it with Poolverine in mind

Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls. Okay, if I had to pick another song for the hand holding to Madonna scene, it’s this one. The vibes are immaculate, the theme talking about not being understood but finding someone who sees you are perfect, but that’s not why it’s here. It’s here because if two lines that are so much like Logan in that moment where he rushes in to save Wade. One: “you’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be/And I don’t want to go home right now.” This one is Logan finding something in Wade he’d thought he’d lost and realizing, perhaps even in that moment, that he doesn’t want to go back to a fixed world. Two: the very first line “and I’d give up forever to touch you.” Logan believes that if he goes in that chamber he will die, but he breaks down the door anyway. He’s literally giving up his effectively immortal lifespan (forever) to touch Wade because he’d rather die with him that live in a universe where he doesn’t exist.

Too Sweet by Hozier. This one is so Logan falling in love with Wade post-movie. Logan having another chance at life and Wade trying to pull him out of his most self-destructive habits while Logan can’t think of anything but how Wade is too good, too sweet for him.

This is Love by Air Traffic Controller. I love these boys but they are a liiiiittle toxic. This is that (plus the knife and gun imagery)

The Red Means I Love You by Madds Buckley. Remember that scene where Wade bled into Logan’s mouth and he had that feral ass grin and laughed? Yeah.

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE by Måneskin. You say rough sex I say Poolverine.

Big Bang Theory Man by Clare Fader and The Vaudevillians. It’s another toxic romance vibes song. This one has guns lol

Somebody to Love by Queen. I think this really exemplifies their lives before they find each other. They’re both lost, both put down by life and the world. They don’t know it yet, but they’re just looking for somebody to love.

You Give Love a Bad Name by Bon Jovi. A little more toxicity for the boys. Logan singing this about Wade works well. Like with the idea that Logan played his part in Wade’s game and got sent to the void. Plus comparing Wade to a loaded gun? Yes. Just yes

You Make My Dreams (Come True) by Daryl Hall & John Oates. I like to believe that they both made each other’s dreams come true. Wade got to team up with Wolverine and Logan got a second chance.

The Other Side from the Greatest Showman soundtrack. Look I know Hugh is the one singing here, but I can’t help but draw comparisons from this song to Wade dragging Logan away from the bar where he’s content to waste away.

I Don’t Care if You’re Contagious by Pierce the Veil. My beta reader (crypticanid here on tumblr) recommended this one so it’s here.

The Chain by Fleetwood Mac. The chain is them holding hands to save the world :-)

Dancing in the Dark by Bruce Springsteen. Here for dad rock energy and because it fits pre-movie Logan.

Shackled And Drawn by Bruce Springsteen. See above (Springsteen is peak dad rock to me)

Angel Eyes & Basketball by Foot Ox. Look at these opening eyes and tell it isn’t Logan “There are flowers growing all around a massive animal inside of me/And it's so ugly/And I'm so broken/And I'm so ugly/And it's so broken”

Heaven’s Gate by Amélie Farren. This is so Worst Wolverine pre-movie. He’s lost and helpless and blames himself for ruining his world. Also, the bit about “I was told that I was vital in the plan to save my life” is giving Logan agreeing to help Wade so the TVA can fix his world. And not believing in Wade and always running away before finally deciding to stay and follow? So represented in this song. Also! “‘Cause I didn’t deserve heaven, but I’m standing at its gate”? That is so Logan when he sees the start of his life with Wade stretch out before him.

Creepy Old Guy from the Beetlejuice musical soundtrack. This is one of the silly ones, but I find the idea of Wade singing this about Logan, who remember is over 200, really funny. He’s Logan’s controversially young girlfriend.

November by Sparkbird. It’s a song about travelling grouch parallel universes and the vibes are very Poolverine. Plenty of knife imagery.

Loser, Baby from the Hazbin Hotel soundtrack. Look I know this one is a little off the wall, but c’mon, it’s a song where an animal themed alcoholic and a hyper sexual gun-lover who are heavily implied to have feelings for each other sing about how life sucks and they’re both losers, but at least they have each other. It’s one the nose (I would actually cry if someone did artwork of them dancing in front of that billboard like in the show)

[strawberrybasilsorbet]

HP Rec Fest: Day 13

@hprecfest

December 13th Prompt: a rare pair

Title: Enchanter's Nightshade by Asenora Ships/Characters: Merope Gaunt/Tom Riddle Sr. Words: 1,369 Summary: I believe that Merope, who was deeply in love with her husband, could not bear to continue enslaving him by magical means. I believe that she made the choice to stop giving him the potion. Perhaps, besotted as she was, she had convinced herself that he would by now have fallen in love with her in return. Perhaps she thought he would stay for the baby’s sake.

This story is extraordinary.

In a series of short vignettes, the piece explores the entire arc of Tom Riddle Sr. and Merope Gaunt's relationship. Thorny issues of ethics and power, already suggested by canon, are brought sharply into focus throughout (I'm especially impressed by Asenora's subtle but devastatingly effective rebuke of Dumbledore, which is accomplished without ever mentioning his name). But the conceptual elements of the fic never overshadow its focus on the characters — Merope's point of view feels immediate and compelling, while Tom's state of mind is presented with careful attention to detail that really brings him to life.

The writing itself is unusually artful, brimming with vivid images and spare, lyrical prose. I felt like I was reading poetry. But the beautiful language only enhances the tension — it's a very suspenseful fic, not only a meditation on images or ideas. And the ENDING! (I won't describe it lest I spoil inadvertently, but. holy shit.)

It's hard to believe that such a dense web of storytelling is accomplished in barely over a thousand words. I think any reader, no matter what flavor of HP fanfic they usually read, will love this story.

[porcelainmortal]

Master Fic List

I figured I have enough fics now that they deserve a permanent place to live on my blog. Please read, comment, enjoy!

a valentine for Alex (rated E | 1,968 words) Valentine's Day smut

the bartender and the blond (rated M | 9,999 words) slow burn romance

being enough (rated T | 551 words) Alex loves Henry

Brooklyn in the summer (rated E | 23,618 words) infamous handyman!alex series (part 4 is in the works)

cool for the summer (rated M | 1,500 words) drinking + teasing = relationship

craving the second that i get you back (rated E | 6,565 words) casual situationship to lovers

faith, trust, and pixie dust (rated M | 5,810 words) omgtheywereroommates but make it Halloween

find me here and speak to me (rated E | 13,131 words) soulmate au angst

Freaktober (rated E | 14,475 words) Kinktober with a Halloween twist

Friday, i'm in love (a collection of ficlets) ficlet friday firstprince

how sweet we'll be, meeting again (rated T | 1,410 words) Henry says goodbye (MCD)

i'm known for giving love away (rated E | 16,866 words) stripper!Alex fic

it happened on a lake (rated E | 18,967 words) David-centric meet cute

kiss me at midnight (rated M | 2,025 words) NYE getting together

mad love. (rated E | 31,313) angsty exes-to-lovers, HEA

move your body (rated E | 2,500 words) dancing and smut

perineyum (rated E | 2,500 words) introspective rimming, the sequel

right here, right now (rated E | 3,333 words) coworkers to lovers

Saturdays are for the boys (rated E | 1,813 words) Saturday couch smut (10k fandom fic)

smutgiving 2023 (rated E | 100 word drabble) self-explanatory

smutsgiving 2024 (rated E | 100 word drabble) it's mostly feelings

take my hand and let it spin (a collection of drabbles) 100-word fics

the song of alex & henry (rated T | 1,062 words) firstprince reads TSOA

Vegas, Baby (rated M | 12,735 words) strangers to husbands

when the curtains call the time (rated E | 27,916 words) exes to lovers

what if we just fall? (rated E | 4,565 words) roommates-to-lovers emotional smutfest

why do you call me baby? (rated M | 3,625 words) henry is unexpected

wrapped in red (rated M | 4,029 words) 5+1 post-canon Christmas vignettes

wrapped up in music & lyrics (rated M | 1,000 words) Spotify Wrapped drabbles

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fluffy Smut (7) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six

After the birthday stream (ao3) - trashcanfromgallifrey

Summary: The events that may have occured after Dan's birthday charity stream;) Starts of with fluff but ends up in a steamy hot shower

all I want to do is all of it with you (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Dan and Phil are going to stay late at the rehearsal venue to...film. Yeah.

As He Comes, So I Come (ao3) - cloej88

Summary: Dan and Phil have just returned from Chicago, where they finally sorted themselves out. They’ve slept a full ten hours under their own roof, and now they have an uninterrupted afternoon to rediscover one another’s bodies.

Buffy Movie Nights are Life Changing (ao3) - angelicsam

Summary: Things get steamy between Dan and Phil during their nighttime Buffy streaming session in 2010; featuring a confident yet bashful Phil and a shy Dan who learns how to drive Phil crazy.

Burning Bibles (ao3) - cherryheartz

Summary: phil lester loved curly headed boys with tattoos on their arms and a joint made with torn bible pages between their soft lips.

and dan howell was exactly that.

Dan and Phil Take Each Other's Clothes Off (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!) (ao3) - BREAD2000yeet

Summary: Dan and Phil play dress-up based off Dan's one dailybooth

Dan stops and stares at him, “You did not just tell me a red panda fact while we are having sex.”

“They can also glow in the dark.”

Despite everything it's still you (ao3) - Frog910

Summary: Dan's just got home from tour, they've missed each other

Dick pancakes and other declarations of love (ao3) - Scuddleduck

Summary: a series of vignettes as I imagine them on Valentine's day

disco stick (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: “Let’s have some fun, this beat is sick,” Phil sings into the microphone connected to the Xbox. It’s slightly off-rhythm, and he grins and stares right at Dan as he continues onto the next lyric. “I want to take a ride on your disco stick.”

(A fic based on the moment from “What Dan and Phil Text Each Other 4” where DnP mention they’ve sung LoveGame countless times on an old karaoke video game.)

Don't Blame Me (ao3) - ForeverJustAnEmoKidAtHeart

Summary: When Phil gets a new job at the Tops Only Bar, he's just looking to make ends meet over the holiday period. He doesn't expect how he'll feel about one of the performers or how hard that'll make his job.

eager for you (ao3) - philsbisexuallion (bisexual_lightning)

Summary: Phil's been waiting all night for Dan to push him up against a wall and fuck him senseless. He finally gets what he wants.

(a self-indulgent ftm t4t smut fic; warning for use of the word "slut" in a degrading way)

et in saecula saeculorum (ao3) - ottertrashpalace

Summary: Phil is the Duke of Lancaster, Dan is a knight, they have been performing intricate rituals, Dan said “as you wish,” the rest is history. Enjoy.

fall in love again and again (ao3) - manchesterau

Summary: Two days into their holiday while lounging by the villa pool that they rented out for the week to ensure maximum privacy, Dan has a thought:

I’m going to marry this boy.

here come the dreams of you and (ao3) - manchesterau

Summary: So he and Dan are a thing now. Phil doesn’t really know what thing they are but it’s something he knows he wants to hold onto and never let go.

"I'm a big fan of tops" (ao3) - Scuddleduck

Summary: Set immediately after filming the keep or yeet Phil's closet video.

Dan gets hot and bothered after watching Phil take his clothes off over and over again.

in this smoking chaos (ao3) - writingcollective

Summary: Dan bottoms for the first time, not being able to shut down his inner demons that whisper internalised homophobic thoughts into his ear. But Phil guides him through it, somehow.

james joint (ao3) - phook

Summary: dan and phil are gross and have been in love for 15 yrs and get high while visiting la for tit

Keep My Hand In Yours (ao3) - totalincandescense

Summary: It was kind of just an unspoken rule of their relationship. At least one part of Phil’s body had to be touching Dan at all times or it would throw the balance of the universe.

more than words (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: Dan can't find words and Phil can't shut the fuck up, but there are other ways to communicate

phlondes do it better (ao3) - wearealldoomed

Summary: The day has come around quicker than Phil had anticipated.

The day where Phil dips his toes back into the waters of dyeing his hair after months of letting his natural hair colour grow back through.

The day where Phil goes platinum blonde without confronting Dan about it first.

Please Don't Say You Love Me (Cause I Might Not Say It Back) (ao3) - phantasticworks (steddieworks)

Summary: Dan's not very good at hiding his emotions during hookups.

based on this tweet: "got so used to saying "I love you" when I was having sex with my ex that I'm out here fighting for my life to not say it on accident with a hookup"

Precious (ao3) - Scuddleduck

Summary: dnp have intimate lazy sex or whatever the fuck made people so mad on twitter. ( I didn't write the post, I'm just using it as a prompt)

Their first night on holiday.

Precious baby angel (ao3) - blossomsphan

Summary: Dan and Phil buy matching precious baby angel shirts because they’re gay and in love. Dan shows Phil how much he likes the shirt on his angel 💖

Precious Baby Angel (ao3) - toadsappho

Summary: Phil shows Dan his new t-shirt, but that's not the only surprise he has for him.

Réponds à Ma Tendresse (ao3) - Blorbiron

Summary: Dan is visiting, and that’s Phil’s absolute favorite thing ever- which is kind of sad, maybe, for someone he’s known for like two months, but he can’t be bothered to care. Because Dan’s sitting right on his bed, close enough to touch, and cackling whenever Phil dies in Crash Bandicoot. Which is a lot.

sativa (i said im ready) (ao3) - catbearbunz (bunnieovadamoon)

Summary: it’s 2009, and phil really wishes dan would call. he does, but he comes greener than expected.

aka they get drunk and high and have esex.

Sheets and sharpies (ao3) - wwoodles

Summary: “Are you going to be good for me?”

He hovered above Dan’s face, awaiting his response. Dan was always taken aback that Phil had this power in him. The ability to completely disarm him.

“Yes, Father.”

Or, in the moments after the end of Dan’s birthday stream, Dan is not only incredibly grateful for Phil, but also incredibly horny.

so american (ao3) - ae121

Summary: Phil has been living in London for a year and thinks he's gotten pretty used to the city. He works part-time at a bookstore, using it at first to gain some friends, now it's just fun for him. His friends are constantly trying to find him someone to date, but all of his dates don't go well.

Well, that's until he met Dan.

Something Unholy (ao3) - hygge

Summary: Phil receives some very surprising and seductive texts in the middle of the night.

Stay With Me (ao3) - blehmobile

Summary: Dan and Phil are flatmates, and they occasionally flirt. They agree that it is very normal to bathe with friends. Totally no tension at all.

sunkissed (ao3) - ivylakes

Summary: Maybe Phil was made to pour warmth into this man and leave little marks all over his body the way the sun does when it covers his skin with freckles. Maybe everything they’ve ever done and every little way they’ve loved each other has culminated in this very moment, where they can hardly see each other in the low light but are still brighter than the yellow light that breaks through the sky and glitters on the ocean.

Or, Dan and Phil go on holiday, and every photo they take tells a story.

true rat and relaxation time (ao3) - trashcanfromgallifrey

Summary: Two gays on holiday, inspired by their recent video.

when the train came it was so big and powerful (ao3) - r1caner

Summary: It is 2009, and things are going to change. Dan thinks so, anyway.

a dnp fic for the 15th 19th of october.

You and Me (ao3) - Scuddleduck

Summary: Birthday sex after Dan's birthday livestream

you look so good it hurts (in my favorite t-shirt) (ao3) - phantasticworks (steddieworks)

Summary: Phil is gifted with a "Mega Dilf" shirt. Guess who picked that shirt out?

[catgirl-valeria]

If you walk away, I’ll walk away

First tell me which road you will take.

I don’t wanna risk our paths crossing some day,

So you walk that way, I’ll walk this way

Valeria reflects on her past, from the deterioration of her relationship with her sister, Hope, to her role as a leader of the Society, and to her fixation and ultimately her obsession with Pandora’s Box.

Or; a recounting of Valeria’s adult life, told in a series of vignettes set to the lyrics of Bright Eyes’s Land Locked Blues.

[lyrical-fanfics]

That looks like fun! (Floyd LeechxFem!Reader)

FLOYD TOOK ME SO LONG! I deleted several drafts and it resulted in this. I hope you all like it!

This is part of a series of one-shots that will later tie into a longer series on my AO3. They're meant to be read like the vignettes in Twisted Wonderland, so if you want a sequel please let me know. Also, let me know if you think you know what the dorm the reader is based on!

The reader is not Yuu. The reader is a student at the OC sister school Fantasia College for girls

3rd person POV

Genre: Fluff

Fem!Reader

   Most people were terrified of the Leech twins. Their reputation preceded them with their sadistic tendencies. Some thought they were safer with either one or the other, but most agreed that both were bad news. With Jade, they could at least pretend that nothing might happen. Floyd was a different story. Some people found his moods more annoying than anything, especially his peers in club activities. The closer you got to Floyd, the more you understood how to maneuver his moods or lack of maneuverability. In most cases, there wasn’t much you could do.  

    His moods would change fast, and his willingness to do anything changed rapidly. Most of the Students on the Fantasia campus were less than thrilled when learning about him, and would mainly avoid him when possible. While they had less experience with him, Night Raven College students would often exchange information to sweeten the girls’ opinions of them.  

    (Name) had just been dealing with such sweetening before Floyd chased the persistent student off. They were on their way to (Name)’s club meeting now, but (Name) had been left alone while Floyd had run off to grab a snack. The two were now bickering over the reasoning behind the boy’s advances.  

    “He knows you’re loaded, there’s no other reason why he was so persistent. ” Floyd scowled as he walked alongside (Name). He had handed over a piece of candy to (Name) out of habit, and she snatched it up with a bit of anger. She was a bit peeved by Floyd’s reasoning, as it made her feel as if Floyd was dismissing her charm. She quickly jumped to debate this reasoning.  

    “Eh? No way, the only people that know are you, Housewarden Indraa, and the Trend club. ” (Name) argued. She quickly stuffed some of the candy into her mouth. “I think he thought I was cute! ” 

    “Yeah, but you act ‘not cute’. ” Floyd retorted, causing (Name) to snort. She took that as a challenge.

    “I can act cute! Easily! ” (Name) argued back, but Floyd grabbed both of (Name)’s cheeks, pulling at them and causing her face to distort slightly.  

    “Awww, you think you can? Haha! You’d probably end up looking dumb. ” Floyd’s teasing frustrated (Name). Maybe he didn’t see it, or maybe he chose to ignore it, but (Name) had a massive crush on Floyd. His lackadaisical attitude was aspirational for (Name), whose freedom was restricted to her schooling here. Not many people knew just how little control (Name) had.  

    Floyd didn’t care, however. He cared about the now, and how he felt in the moment. She knew that even if he knew everything, he would probably still treat her the same.  

    Probably. Can’t be too cautious.  

    (Name) threw off Floyd’s hands before defending herself. “I can be! I guarantee it! ” 

    “Ha! Yeah right. You’re really persistent about this. Just drop it. ” Floyd squashed the topic with one hand as he ruffled (Name)’s hair. “I wanna talk about something else. ” easily changed the flow of conversation, and (Name) went along with it. She didn’t forget about Floyd’s proclamation, however. She could be cute. She wanted to be cute in Floyd’s eyes, especially.  

    The members of the Trend club were all too familiar with Floyd, and often welcomed him, even the ones that didn’t enjoy him as a person.  

    “I see Floyd is with us again today… How fortunate for us. ” Aster Giesell, the Housewarden of Gothelweiss and head of the club held a particular disdain in her voice. Floyd’s presence meant that there would be no snack leftovers if the snack met his fancy.  

    “Oh! Hello Floyd! Our favorite unofficial member! ” Nagai’s tone was far more jovial. As the Vice-Housewarden of (Name)’s house, she knew far more about the situation than (Name) would like.  

    “Hiya, what girlie magazines are you all looking at today? ” Even before (Name) could grab some of the subscriptions Aster had brought, Floyd began flipping through them. He loved perusing the Trend club’s materials, as nothing was ever the same. They observed trends and would sometimes try to replicate them, whether it be in fashion, cooking, home goods, or anything.  

    “I have an abundance of fashion magazines today. I also have some Magicam accounts we can look at. ” Aster starts off with order, but she knows how easily these meets can devolve into chaos when Floyd attends.  

    “Hey! Look at these, (Name)! ” Floyd immediately spots a magazine with all sorts of shoes, along with other men’s fashion magazines. “Man, it still amazes me how much you humans put on your body. ” Floyd begins to flip through one, allowing room for (Name) to peruse over his shoulder.  

    “Oh, that’s right, Mermen don’t really wear clothes, huh? ” (Name) remarked, but she was called away by Nagai.  

    “Speaking of clothing! (Name)! I found something that would work best on you! ” Both Floyd and (Name) lifted their heads to look over at Nagai. In her hands was a magazine, covered in pink decals and articles. (Name) recognized the magazine as one that was popular, especially around Valentine's day. Aster had also lifted her head from what she was doing, pushing copious amounts of curly blonde hair out of her face while looking it over.  

    “Right, Nagai and I were talking about this before you came in (Name). ” (Name) took the magazine in her hands as she looked over the article about a certain sundress that was currently the talk of the internet.  

    “Cottagecore might be on its way out, but this ultra-sheer fabric layered up to create a voluptuous yet ethereal look is to die for, ” Nagai explains as she points at the layers in the magazine. “Some might say this is heading into craft core with how the magazine styled it with those cute thick tights and the knit sweater, but that babydoll look would be perfect on you! ” (Name) furrowed her brows at Nagai, and Floyd spoke up.  

    “Eh? Why’re you making (Name) try it? Why not one of you two? ” Floyd was slightly annoyed with Nagai’s pushiness.  

    “Because both Nagai and I, while I hate to admit it, are more suited for either sexier styles or the Chic styles. ” Nagai’s ears perked as she slinked around Aster, wrapping her arms around the more serious member of the club.  

    “Oooh! You think I’m sexy? ” Nagai was shrugged off quickly as Aster stepped out of her reach.  

    “(Name) on the other hand has a lot more potential for different styles. ” Aster then gives Floyd a glare, realizing he was protesting. “(Name) is our ideal for this style. Besides, I already ordered the clothes. ” 

    “Man, does (Name) even get a say? ” Floyd tried once again to keep (Name) out of the cute clothes, but (Name) piped in.  

    “I want to wear it! It looks cute! ” She then looked over at Floyd with determination in her eyes, and he realized what this meant. She wanted to prove him wrong. She wanted to take back what he said about her acting ‘not cute. ’ He grumbled before looking back at the magazine in his hands. He had some issues with the plan.  

    A few days pass and the club meets again. Once again, Floyd joins them. He was in a rather sour mood that day, and debated not tagging along.  

    “Meh, I’m gonna lay over there, ” Floyd stated as he passed the group and lay down across some desks, causing Aster to give a quizzical look to (Name). (Name) only shrugged at the cause of Floyd’s mood. All she knew is that he needed some space and probably some peace. Aster quickly shrugged it off as she knew a majority of the snacks she got were probably safe today. She hummed as she placed a tablecloth down on a fold-out card table.  

    “(Name)! The clothes came in! Let's get you changed! ” Nagai didn’t miss a beat as she latched onto (Name)’s arm while Aster worked, and began working on her clothes. Aster panicked and began berating Nagai.  

    “Don’t strip her with a man in the room! NAGAI! ” Aster panicked further. “Floyd! Don’t you dare look this way! ” 

    “Don’t tell me what to do. It’s not like I care if people wear clothes or not. ” Floyd replied with a grumble, causing Aster to act quickly and without reason. She ran over to Floyd’s perch and threw the tablecloth she was straightening out over Floyd’s upper half to block his sight. He looked like a child dressing up as a ghost who hadn’t quite figured out the eyeholes yet.  

    “Why didn’t you just hold this up in front of (Name). . . So dumb. ” Floyd scoffed but didn’t bother to remove the tablecloth. (Name) couldn’t help but laugh at the situation as Nagai laid out the dress for her. Aster’s red face spoke of both anger and embarrassment.  

    “Whatever. Let’s finish styling up (Name) before taking pictures. ” 

    Aster and Nagai made quick work of the look. They adjusted (Name)’s hair, the fit of the dress, the accessories, the shoes, everything. They were professionals when it came to making trendy clothes look their best, and were done within minutes. The end result was an off-the-shoulder tulle sundress with embroidered flowers near the hem. The sleeves were bishop sleeves, and translucent. The accessories that Nagai and Aster added were a rather simple necklace, some hair clips, and a couple of rings. They disposed of the tights that the magazine styled the look with and instead went with some simple strappy flats. The makeup was also simple, with mascara, neutral tones, cute blush, and a bright stained lip with some shimmer on the crease.  

    “Perfect. I’ll grab the camera and we’ll begin the photo shoot. ” Aster smiled as Nagai gushed over (Name).  

    “You really rock this! If we tried to do this look, we wouldn’t get the same effect! Ah! It’s so cute on you! ” 

    “Can I take this off yet? ” Floyd made his presence known again as he whipped off the tablecloth that was thrown over him, not caring anymore if (Name) was decent or not, but was soon surprised by the figure who was now in (Name)’s place. (Name) locked eyes with Floyd, who only stared at her with a blank expression and slightly parted lips. She smiled and took her opportunity.  

    “Hey, Floyd! Look at how fun this dress is to spin in! ” (Name) then spun to show the grumpy moray, whose face perked up a bit.  

    “It does look fun,” Floyd, hopped up from his perch, walking in front of Aster who readied her camera.  

    “Hey! Floyd! Move! ” Aster angrily tried to control the situation, but she had about as much control of Floyd now as she did when she threw the tablecloth over him.  

    “Come here! I wanna try spinning it! ” Floyd quickly hugged and picked up (Name), spinning her around. (Name) couldn’t help but start to giggle as Floyd got a kick out of the dress and how it spun. He would stop for a bit to enjoy the laughter with (Name) before starting back up again spinning in the opposite direction.  

    “Hey, Aster, just take the pictures, ” Nagai stated as the two upperclassmen watched the interaction. Aster grimaced at Nagai, but something in Nagai’s eye caught Aster’s attention. “Just trust me. These are gonna be some good pictures. ” 

    Aster sighed before holding up the camera and snapping a few pictures. Floyd was pleased with the outcome.  

    If people had to see (Name) being this cute, they would have to associate him with it. This level of cuteness was all his.  

thank you for reading! If you'd like to keep up to date with my fics as soon as they come off the editing table, follow my AO3

[yuurei20]

"Imagination" (And GloMas vignettes)

What was originally the English word “imagination” was changed to “arts education” on EN, but this is not the first time that the importance of “imagination” has been mentioned in the game: it also came up in Book 1 (changed to “visualization” on EN, which is kind of the same, I think? But it is interesting that JP is using an English-language word that is not being carried over into the English-language game).

It was carried over to Glorious Masquerade itself (though not the Glorious Masquerade vignettes), and it will be interesting to see if it is also kept in the Bloom/Broom series, where it appears multiple times.

Much like the “egg” theme that seems to be building towards something about which we are still unaware (and was taken out of EN completely), the “your magic is only as strong as your imagination” concept has been repeated enough that it has become conspicuous (in the original game), even being repeated within both Twisted Wonderland novels:

“’Mm. Well, that’s how it is when you’re a new student. You’ll be fine once you start refining your imagination.’

‘Imagination?’

‘Right. What kind of magic you use, what effects it has. And, above all, what you want to make happen. The more detail you are able to visualize in your mind, the more accurate your magic. And it won’t manifest that well if you can’t.’”

-Twisted Wonderland the first novel

--

"‘The strength of magic is strength of imagination. The better your ability to envision the effects of your magic, the stronger and more precise your power. Roseheart-kun’s imagination has become much stronger than it was at the time of last year’s duel, and that doesn’t happen overnight. It is quite clear how hard he works each day.’”

-Twisted Wonderland the first novel

--

“Trey, Cater, and Riddle's unique magics each reflect their individuality in an interesting way, and each have their own charm. As does Ruggie's unique magic, though it has caused injuries. The power of magic is the power of imagination.”

-Twisted Wonderland the second novel

--

(Other changes to the various Glorious Masquerade vignettes include the unavoidable removal of the title of the song that the group sang and song lyrics, and Malleus’ name being changed to Jamil (probably not on purpose).)

[violetsiren90]

New Rules | Don't let him in.

Table of Contents: Teaser (Prologue); Don't pick up the phone; Don't let him in

Pairing: f*ck boi!Jisung x f!Reader; Jisung x Minho

Genre: choose your own adventure; drabble/vignette series; angst and smut; f*ck buddies; college/post grad

Summary: Jisung has had you wrapped around his finger for the last half-decade. You know good and well that it's time to move on…but you can never seem to follow your own rules long enough to shake him.

*Based on the lyrics of "New Rules" by Dua Lipa

Content warnings: 18+ (minors, dni) Explicit smut; toxic relationship; characters commit sexual acts after having partaken in controlled substances (themes continued from previous chapter); Minho touches reader intimately without asking for consent (not against her will, but still, no check-in); masturbation; flashbacks/backstory; lust and resentment; possessive Minho; cum on a character from a previous sexual encounter; super brief spanking; cursing; name calling: slut - sexual, derogatory(?); subby Jisung; kissing/making out; oral sex (f. receiving); face-sitting; female orgasm; lots of conflicting and negative feelings; drunkenness and vomiting; are we in some unhealthy territory here, folks.

Word Count: ~1700

Author's Note: Well, things are getting darker and messier. 🖤 I want to ask that any readers please review the content warnings before partaking! Thank you for everyone who's voted so far!! I absolutely love that you all chose to involve Minho in this, because the dynamic brewing here is something else. Remember to vote in the pole at the bottom of the fic if you'd like to help decide where these characters go from here! 😊

As always, if no one has told you today, please know that you're loved, and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

You'll have to kick him out again.

Three dragging raps against the door of your hotel room pull your head from the pillow and the rest of your body follows lethargically, weighed down by champagne and dejection. You bumble into a pair of sweat pants and sag against the door momentarily before pushing up on your tiptoes to press an eye to the peephole.

Mother fucking asshole.

“What do you want, Jisung?” you bark venomously, not reaching for the lock.

His brow furrows and he steps back, stumbling. Clearly, he’s made equal use of the open bar.

“Howdya know it was me?” he slurs, eyes wide in slow-witted confusion.

“I can see you through the peephole, moron,” you sneer.

His lips tug down into a pout, the kind that makes him look like a sad, injured puppy. You know them all, the manipulatively emotive masks of expression. It’s been a while though, and you can’t be sure this particularly somber scowl isn’t genuine. No, you know. It doesn’t matter if the offense he’s taken is real, the things he’ll say once he crosses the threshold won’t be. And you can’t fucking do it again. Not tonight.

You slide down the door onto flat feet and turning to press your back against the glossy eggshell paint of its surface.

You’d known he’d be at Chaeryeong and Changbin’s wedding, and you had been tempted to just send a gift out of the sheer desire to simply avoid this moment. But part of you wanted to see him. Wanted to see if he had found someone new - or if the hand that had once kept him just out of your reach still held him in its grasp. You wanted…closure, if you were being honest with yourself. A reason to move on. But of course, he’d come solo, and refused to make eye contact with you for the for the entirety of cocktail hour. Then, significantly later into the evening, you’d felt a familiar gaze burn into your breasts, your ass, the back of your exposed neck. So you’d left before you could get drunk enough to backslide onto his cock; which, should history prove exemplary, would be two shots of tequila from where your BAC currently stood.

You feel a thump against the door, and you hear his voice, closer now, like he’s leaning against it.

“Miss you.”

“No, you don’t,” you counter, with a heaving sigh.

“You don’t…hey…”

“Get out, Jisung.”

You hear him push himself off the door and shuffle over the carpet, then he thumps back against the door hard enough to jostle you.

“Just let me…use your bathroom. I’ll l-leave.”

But he never leaves. He stays, poisonously yet addictively parasitic until you carve him out like a cancer, taking so much of you with him every goddamn time.

Jisung was still panting against Minho’s chest, cum slipping slowly down his heaving belly when he opened his eyes and saw you that night all those years ago. He didn’t speak or move, jaw hanging open and eyes locked on yours as Minho leaned up to murmur whispers onto the shell of the his ear. You watched as Jisung’s eyes slid to down your body, a delicious pulse shuddering through you, and suddenly you became aware of your own fingers against your clit. You blinked down through the haze of heat and substance, to see your skirt lifted and your hand pressed to your messy cunt. You pulled it away to steady yourself against the edge of the bar.

Minho licked his lips as they stretched into a smirk, hitching the younger man up by his hips and onto his feet, pants still shoved around his thighs and his wet cock growing soft above their open waistband. Minho slowly stood, his palm sharply cracking against the bare flesh of Jisung’s ass, spilling a whimper from his lips and causing him to stumble forward, his shirt falling down over cum-slicked skin as he fumbled to tug up his jeans. The senior stalked toward where you swayed on your feet, crowding you as his hand grasped the side of your waist. As his eyes bored into yours you felt like a little quivering creature in a jar - his gaze searing past your retinas and into the dark recesses of your being where he dissected you bit by bit. His cold, steady hand slid down your hip and over your thigh, pushing your skirt up to impassively cup your sex. You let out a shuddering moan, your eyes squeezing shut. Minho chuckled darkly.

“Hmh - such a needy pussy. All puffy and wet…” he purred condescendingly above you. “Hannie baby will take care of that, right?” his hand dragged up your body to take your jaw in his pretty, powerful fingers, still damp with your arousal. Your trembled in his grasp as he pulled back to regard you with a smirk. “Remember, though - sweet, stupid little slut - you can play with that cock all you want…but I own it. Capeesh?”

You sucked in a breath and he released your chin with a hum, patting your cheek before slipping his hand into his pocket and strolling around you. You heard the sliding glass door open and shut. Jisung glanced up at you, running his hand through his hair.

“I…Jisung…”

“You’re not wearing panties,” he muttered with a swallow, his eyes on the rumpled fabric obscuring your sticky want.

“What?” you breathed.

His eyes darted up to yours.

“You liked it - watching. Didn’t you?” His voice shook as he asked. It was such a raw question - not taunting, like Minho’s had been. He was hoping. Begging.

As you watched him shuffle forward, still fumbling with the button of his jeans, you remembered his face as he came. You remembered Minho’s eyes. A fragrant, poisonous hunger bloomed to life in your belly. You surged toward Jisung, daydreams forgotten - shoving him and causing him to stumble back, eyes going wide with surprise. Alarm bells sounded somewhere in your skull, and you look down at the tremor in your hands. You didn’t recognize them. You didn’t recognize the voice that came out of your mouth.

“You’re pathetic.”

He froze, lips parting as he drank in the venom of your tone.

“Baby…” he murmured, stepping toward you cautiously.

“Don’t call me that,” you clipped, your lip quivering as your heart thrummed like a frantic hummingbird trapped inside your chest. “He called you that.”

His brows knitted, as if unsure if your words held accusation or question. He didn’t ask. Just as well. You didn’t know. Some thorny thing weaving its way around your soul tore at the innocence of your longing.

His pupils were swallowing his irises as he raised his hand to touch your cheek. His brows drew together again, but this time with a desperation so intense it was erotic. You were soaked. He leaned in and kissed your lips, and you let him. You moved your hands up to grip the sides of his shirt. He was a needy, messy kisser, and it fed the thing burning inside you that loathed and lusted with equal relish.

He dipped his hand between you to brush his fingers over your drenched folds and he groaned into your mouth. Someone stirred on the loveseat off to the right and you choked on a moan.

“Not here…” you shoved him off.

The next thing you knew your knees were kissing the harsh chill of the downstairs bathroom tiles as his mouth kissed your cunt. Your nails pressed dully into the palm of your hand through the barrier of your bunched up skirt, pulled away to afford your eyes the sight of his face between your thighs. Your other hand gripped the edge of the counter for dear life as you fought to stay upright through the overwhelming pleasure of his languid laps against your sex.

“Fuck…oh, fuck…” you whined and he whimpered against you in response, sending a buzzing vibration through you that had your body screaming out for more. You tucked the hem of your skirt into the band and reached down to part your folds with your fingers, presenting him with your flushed, swollen heat. Immediately latching onto your clit, he sucked as though his survival depended on it, and you wailed up to the ceiling, grinding down over his greedy lips and tongue.

You came against his mouth, but that wasn’t what you remembered on feverish nights thereafter. You remembered the churning in your stomach and the burning in your thighs and the drug of his gaze, heady and addictive as you smothered him, injecting itself into your veins.

You push to a stand against the hotel door, legs shaking. You want it. You need it. Just one more time.

You open the door but he pushes past you, stumbling into the bathroom and collapsing in front of the toilet.

You let out a hissing sigh, leaning against the door frame as he wretches. Perhaps this memory of his body rolling to its back on a tile floor will push away the one that’s haunted your fantasies. Perhaps. But that’s now how it’s seemed to work thus far. He raises himself up to vomit again and leave him there, tossing yourself back into bed.

Pulling the door open to a gentle knock, you recognize Changbin’s best man.

“Hi,” he grins at you sympathetically as you open it further, “One of the groomsmen said there was someone who needed a helping hand back to their room?”

He’s effortlessly handsome in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, tie discarded in favor of an open neck. The smile he’s sporting which presses a dimple into his cheek could likely melt tungsten at ten percent intensity. Your mouth goes a bit dry and when you swallow, it tastes like shame. You glance at Jisung laying in front of the sink.

“Uh, yeeah..” you blink, shuffling back to grant him entry.

He ambles in and peeks his head into the bathroom before turning back to you with a little furrow between his brows.

“You okay?”

You wish this stranger would immediately stop looking at you with those brown eyes - the kind that seem to scan you for weaknesses without a single predatory intention. You cross your arms over your chest and duck your head. You wish you liked it, those eyes on you - a gaze that promised nurture and healing. But you know who you are, what you crave.

“It’s been a long night. Thanks…”

“Chris,” he offers as he pulls Jisung up to a stand. You think he smiles again, but you’re not looking.

[buildarocketboys]

hmmm number 62 and peterick for the wrapped fic thing!

Thank you!!

Number 62 was Her To The Earth by Elbow, so I've written a series of vignettes based on a few lyrics throughout the song, spanning Pete and Patrick's relationship. Enjoy!

i. Above the waves, you can still see where we drown

No looking down

Oblivion's oblivion

When they fight, it's like they fall into a black hole. All their atoms and molecules disintegrate and whirl around each other, breaking apart, coming together anew, and when Patrick resurfaces, he could be anywhere. On the floor with Pete straddling him or with Pete in a headlock. Or in bed together, cum drying on his stomach, unsure whose is whose, whether it's his or Pete's or both.

Sometimes Patrick thinks when he comes to, it'll be as Pete.

It's terrifying. It's exhilarating, too. It's counterintuitive, but whenever they fight, they're at their very closest.

ii. You've got pain, you've got rage

Well, we'll hold the front page

Until they aren't.

"Why won't you TALK to me?" Patrick didn't mean to start yelling, Pete just brings it out in him these days. "I'm supposed to be your best friend and it HURTS, Pete! It really hurts!"

Pete scoffs. "So?"

Patrick's mouth falls open, his hands finding his hips of his own accord as he takes a step back. "What do you mean, so?"

Pete shrugs. His eyes are red and bloodshot, ringed with black so dark it looks like he hasn't slept in years. Patrick knows better than anyone how close to the truth that is. He feels a twinge of sympathy that disappears when Pete speaks again.

"So what? You're hurt, you're angry, so fucking what, Patrick? You and the rest of the fucking world! You want me to call in the press pack?"

Patrick snorts in disgust. "They're not interested in me," he hisses. "As you very well know."

If Patrick had expected Pete to be - chastened? Apologetic? - then he's disappointed. Pete just lays there, not looking at Patrick, waiting for him to leave.

It's gotten too hard to push back, to force Pete to take anything, to give him anything, other than what he wants.

"Fuck you, Pete," he says, and leaves the room.

iii. I kiss your name and fold your words away

Patrick reads the letter again, heart breaking even as his blood rushes in his ears.

Pete doesn't get to give him this now. Not after everything.

He doesn't get to give Patrick more words, beautiful, magical words, like it'll reverse everything that's happened in the last year - the last decade, almost - like Patrick will forgive him. Run back into his arms when he's only just escaped from them-

And now he's crying. Patrick watches numbly as his tears fall on the place, smudging Pete's words.

It's what he deserves.

Patrick allows one concession, just one, to his feelings, to Pete, to this letter.

He kisses Pete's name where he's signed it on the bottom.

Then he folds Pete's words away and tucks it away at the bottom of a drawer.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Yeah, right.

iv. And if I hold your gaze

How you take to the stage

"I've got an idea," Pete says, rushing into the rehearsal room where they've been practicing all day.

"Oh no," says Patrick, but he's smiling. Pete's ideas are often chaotic, sometimes terrifying (Patrick still can't think about being shot out of the floor without feeling his stomach plunge) but somehow always work out.

Pete raises his eyebrows, but carries on like Patrick hadn't spoken. "You should do, like, a section of the show on your own. Like with a piano or an acoustic guitar or something."

That's almost scarier than being shot out of the floor. "Pete, no," he protests, but Pete steamrolls him and Patrick lets it happen. What can he say, he's mellowed out over the years.

"No, but, you should get a chance to show off how fantastic you are, how brilliant, and you could choose the songs, they can be some of ours and some covers, maybe even some of your own stuff, if you want..." Pete trails off, and Patrick swallows a lump in his throat. "What do you think?"

"Pete...I don't know..." he says.

Pete gets his way though, like Patrick knew he would.

He schedules it in the setlist, and schedules in a little talk beforehand (Pete calls it "riff with Patrick") so that he can check in with Patrick and settle his nerves.

Patrick appreciates it more than he can ever say.

And when Pete leaves the stage and Patrick makes his way over to the piano, he only has to look over his shoulder to catch Pete's eye, hold his gaze, and he sits, taller and prouder than he'll ever be by himself, and plays.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

(I just remembered I posted this on Reddit like seven months ago and just completely forgot about it since. what do you think?)

listening to TTPD from start to finish multiple times I kind of built this story based on the main album's songs.

the very first song, fortnight, starts out with "I was supposed to be sent away / but they forgot to come and get me", an obvious reference to Hits Different and "have they come to take me away". Now, what if she was wrong? what if they did come and get her and she was taken to the psych ward, but she's still too deep in denial that she can't even accept it? the other lyrics, the music video and even the eras tour performance hint at this.

the album is kicked off by an introduction to the setting, followed by thirteen other accounts of a broken relationship, heartbreak and, at times, hope, so we have fourteen total visions of the whole affair and of the events prior and consequential. a fortnight of sleepless nights, if you will 👀. fourteen bursts of incredible songwriting, fourteen moments of introspection and of looking back. in short, girlie pop got sent to the mental hospital for a fortnight and had the most powerful, inspiring manic episode ever.

it all ends with the smallest man who ever lived, a rage-filled, potent spike of anger that leaves her empty of regret and that essentially signals the end of her therapeutic recovery. After this, she's discharged, and she's free to go. the fifteenth song, the alchemy, tells the story of how she's recovering from the whole experience ("what if i told you i came back? / the hospital was a drag") and how her new-found love is helping her rediscover the joy of a healthy relationship.

Clara Bow is an account of what is going to be left of her to whoever comes after: another name said by people to compare new young artists to, a legacy that has set the foundations for the newcoming generation of singers and songwriters. it's a testament to the work she made and that no one could ever undo.

So, she's out. she's free, and she has her lover right beside her. what of the anthology?

the fifteen songs inside it are what she wrote in the hospital. they are all the things that she had to get out of her system while processing the major traumas her last relationship gave her, but that were never meant to see the light of day. they are about much older events and people, about things that didn't happen recently but that left her scarred, that needed to be said but only made it when she was going through such a tough time. they were a forgotten manuscript at the bottom of a cardboard box, gathering dust until one faithful night, when, at two in the morning, nostalgia and regret hit. "what keeps you up at night?", if not the past that came haunting you so many years after?

(i also do not, in any way, imply that this is the actual storyline of the album!! it's just a fun coincidence I found interesting and wanted to work a bit more on. I'm also not saying that she was actually sent to a mental health institution cause that's just wild 😭)

That’s a really interesting way of reading the story! Almost like a series of interconnected vignettes or short stories.

I think Fortnight is a brilliant prologue to the album, because it covers pretty much all the themes in the suburban gothic nightmare. It’s very “Two households, both alike in dignity / In fair Verona, where we lay our scene.” I’ve been having a lot of thoughts about it all over again.

And I also love the music video so much, and wish we could have had more visual content like it, because the hospital/experiment metaphor is one of my favourites that she’s done I think.

[discount-shades]

Sleepy Baby: Our Song

a/n: I put my 90s country playlist on shuffle and wrote for songs that came up. This isn’t super connected to whatever plot I have going on in the main story. It's more of a series of vignettes.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

Warnings: None, 90s Country

Word Count: 700 ish

Summary: Jake listens to 90s country music. 

Masterlist   

You roll your eyes as Jake pairs his phone up to the Bluetooth speaker in his kitchen. Jake rarely listens to music from this century. He mostly switches between classic rock playlists and ‘90s country and lately it has been trending country. As someone who grew up listening to mostly Top 40 music you were not familiar with most of the songs he played. Despite your unfamiliarity with the genre it was growing on you. Every song you learn to love is connected to memories of Jake. 

Jake sings a lot. It was something you noticed in your time with him. Not around his coworkers, but he sings around you often. He is able to remember the words and cadence to songs in a way that you would never be able to. When you commented on the blueness of the sky Jake jumped into singing, “Here she comes a walkin’ talkin’ true love, saying I’ve been looking for you love, surprise your new love has arrived, out of the blue clear sky,” all the while taking your hand and twirling you before pulling you into a kiss. At your slightly baffled expression he adds, “George Strait’s Blue Clear Sky.” He grins, “don’t worry Darlin’ I’ll convert you to a follower of King George.”

There was the disastrous attempt to teach you line dancing to Brooks and Dunn’s Boot Scootin’ Boogie on western night at some bar you don’t remember the name of. Alcohol was a factor in how many times you stumbled giggling into Jake as he patiently caught you and steadied you for the next attempt. When you had tried again, sober this time, on your back deck on a Sunday afternoon you were much more coordinated and he informed you that he would be willing to take you line dancing when you went to meet his family in Texas. 

John Michael Montgomery’s Sold is Jake's song for you. Every time it plays he will sing the whole song to you, keeping up to the fast lyrics with an exaggerated twang in his voice. “Jake, I don't exactly match the description of the women in the song,” you tell him laughing. “Doesn't matter, you’re a ten,” he tells you. “This was me when I met you. You’re it for me Darlin’, I’m sold.” 

You think about slow dancing in Jake’s kitchen every time you hear Garth Brooks’ The Dance. It’s late and most of the lights are off. Your one hand is clasped in his and the other is playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. Jake's hand on your lower back is holding you close to him as you sway to the music. Jake’s soft humming is a rumble as you rest your head on his chest and he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Jake singing, “I put a big down payment on that itty bitty diamond ring,” to Diamond Rio’s Unbelievable as he drives makes you pause. At the conviction in his voice you turn and stare at him. Neither of you have said ‘I love you’ yet, even though Jake has already declared that you would be getting married. He catches your eye and winks before turning back to look at the road. You narrow your eyes watching him sing along before deciding you are jumping to conclusions. Probably.

You had always listened to Shania Twain and her songs took a new meaning to you. It was hard for you to miss the fact that Jake perfectly personified the lyrics to Any Man of Mine. You have long since admitted to yourself that you were falling hard and fast for Jake. His casual certainty that your relationship was long term was simultaneously perplexing and exasperating, but mostly it was endearing. He made your heartbeat quicken with a wink one moment and could relax you with a hug the next. He made you feel safe.

You don't have one song to remind you of your relationship, you have an entire decade of a genre, and you still don’t know what song you will dance to at your wedding.