#but for now i just have to say how fucking excited i am that the fight choreography (hand to hand & sabers) has DELIVERED

[mywritersmind]

NOT SO HAPPY HOLIDAYS - LN4

↳pt.5

christmas special

part one - part two - part three - part four

summary : As the days start getting closer to Christmas, you find yourself even more comfortable with your previous enemy. In a drunken spirit and ego boosted from karaoke, Lando can’t control his words. Even when Max finds you two in bed together.

og summary : Spending Christmas with my brothers best friend isn’t my ideal way to celebrate. With my parents in the maldives and my ex calling me non stop, I was hoping for a small town cozy christmas! I was going to get that with Max and his girlfriend until Lando Norris worked his way into the mix.

listen up : dual pov! alcohol! swearing! drunk lando!

words : 3334

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Lando. Listen to me.” Oscar says over the phone, his voice registering in my brain but being distinctly distracted by two women taking instagram photos next to me.

“I am listening.” I mumble, watching Y/n turn and smile at the camera. My phone vibrates in my hand and I see that Oscar has requested facetime instead.

“What?” I look at the man who’s sitting in the sun and probably at the beach, “Can you pay attention for two seconds? I don’t want to be talking about work either.”

I sigh, turning away from the girls, “Can I ask you something?” I walk farther away just in case they can hear me.

Oscar groans at me still being off topic, “Shoot.”

“How did you know Lily fancied you?”

His brow jolts up, “I mean, We were pretty young, I just remember that she spoke to me a lot and she-” Lily pops her head in the call now.

“Don't listen to him, Lando! He was absolutely oblivious even though I was literally a giggling school girl around him.”

Oscar looks at her lovingly, “You were quite smiley.”

“Okay wrap it up lovebirds.” I roll my eyes.

Lily leaves and Oscar looks at me quizzically again, “So, who do you like so much that would possess you to ask that question?” I stay quiet for a moment, glancing back at Y/n who’s backlit by the sun, “Aren’t you with your family? Or Max and his girlfriend right?”

“No one. I’m just curious.” Deny deny deny.

He hums, “Wait… Doesn't Max have that sister you stalked all year-”

“Okay bye Oscar!”

He scrambles to get words in, “Wait we still need to talk about-”

I hang up on him.

⋆༺

Max and I have been kicked out by our the women. More like I was kicked out and Max was just craving a coffee. It’s not my fault I can’t cook!

After almost catching Y/n’s hair on fire, I was banished to the little coffee shop that’s been getting us through this week.

The barista hands us our coffees and one hot chocolate for Y/n. Max and I walk slowly to our car, looking at the scenery on the way. “I’m excited for Christmas.”

I smile as Max hums, “You’re awfully chipper.” He gives me a side eye and a smirk, to which I promptly shove him, “Ugh! I do not want to know!”

He laughs, “I know that P teases you about it, But I really do think a girlfriend would be good for you.”

I don’t just want a girlfriend. I want Y/n. I kick a rock at my feet, mumbling, “Yeah I doubt that.” I meant that he wouldn’t want me to have a girlfriend if it was his sister, just he scoffs.

“Think about it! This year was completely fucked and yeah a lot of good shit happened but imagine how much easier the bad shit would be if you were in love.”

“You’re disgusting. Us ten years ago would be gagging at this conversation.”

He’s smiling still, “Yeah and that’s because I am in love.” I roll my eyes at his cheesy ass, “How do you have no roster, mate? It’s honestly embarrassing.”

“Maybe I do.” I sip my coffee, “I don’t have to tell you everything.”

“Maybe i’m just hanging out with Y/n and P too much, their best friend girly vibes are fun.” He points to me, “Still, it’s break! Get your groove on!”

I walk faster, shaking my head. “Groove? I’m going to leave you in the snow.”

⋆༺

you

I’m in a mini dress in the snow. What could go wrong?

I slip five minutes out the door which makes Lando’s arm become my new best friend even though my faux fur coat keeps tickling him.

We may or may not have pregamed for the tiny local bar which has me slipping on ice. “Four jolly jolly shots please…” Lando reads off the bar's menu, laughing a bit.

He looks good. Like really really good. His curls are perfect as usual and when he leans over to talk to the bartender, his dark green shirt tugs against his arms.

My brothers arm goes around my neck, tugging me and laughing, “Merry Christmas, sis!”

“Let go of me you vermin!”

“Shots!” P sings, handing me mine.

“Cheers to us!” Max grins, holding his tiny glass up.

“Cheers to Christmas.” P smiles happily.

Lando taps his glass on the table along with us, winking at me, “Cheers.” We all down the weird peppermint alcohol and swiftly make our way to the dance floor.

We sing along to shitty music and dance together in a crowd of college kids home for break, and their parents.

Lando’s hand finds my waist and is quickly slapped away. He gives me a pouty look which I find annoyingly attractive and quickly turns it into a smirk.

I down my drink, spinning back to my friends and dodging a guy and his friends. “Hey!” The guy smirks and I accidentally laugh in his face, he looks about five years younger than me and is staring at my chest.

I find my friends laughing and drinking with a random man who sort of looks like santa.

“Y/n!” Lando puts his arm around me which I promptly pull off.

“Aren’t you busy trying to hook up with a tourist?” I blink at him while my brother and P are distracted.

He leans in a bit, “You’re a tourist, aren’t you?”

“You trying to get in my pants, Norris?” This makes him smile.

“I’m familiar with the area.”

I find myself at the bar again, but this time I order water. P and I giggle at the sight of Max and Lando just standing there looking lost without us.

“I’m really proud of you.” P says out of the blue.

I frown, “Thanks? I’m proud of you too.”

“I just mean… you’ve been through a lot.” I know what she means. My ex. “And you’re the best person I know.”

I smile, “I adore you, P.”

The truth is, my ex cheating really did break me. But I already knew something was wrong. I wasn’t being treated correctly and honestly breaking up with him was not on the top of my to-do list.

P was always there for me, my brother is a lot to handle and sometimes I just need a girl to talk to. That girl for me is P.

She pops back to her boyfriend while my water gets refilled. I swear this altitude is fucking with me, i’m so thirsty all the time.

“Hi.” I'm about to yell at the college guy who approaches me, until I realize there is no way this man is under twenty five.

“Oh! Hi.” I smile politely and tap the bar.

I clock his douchy attitude as soon as his ringed hand (which definitely came from shein) and patchwork tattoos land on the bar, clearly flexing.

“You’re gorgeous… Sorry, I just had to tell you!” He acts shy, like it’s horribly embarrassing to hit on. woman.

“Thank you…” Is all I can say before he continues.

“I’m Seth!” He’s australian… I think? He’s got short hair with dark skin that makes his eyes pop. “Are you visiting? I am.”

I nod and sip my water, “Yeah…”

“My girlfriend used to live here! My friends let me choose the place and…” He’s going on a long rant that I definitely did not consent to hear.

He’s loud in the way that i’m embarrassed to be heard with because he’s talking nonsense and trying to scoot closer to me with every word he speaks.

I bring my glass to my lips again, looking around then back to Seth who is still talking about his ex. Did I do something to offend the universe?

The hand on my hip scares me, but I don’t jump. I know the feeling too well by now. Lando’s smiling at the bartender, a protective arm around me, “Three green tea shots, thanks.”

He leans his hip against the bar, holding me close as my cheeks go red and I start chugging my water. Seth looks absolutely astonished, “Who’s your new friend, Sunshine?”

“Seth.” I say, swirling my straw around the cold glass.

“Hey man…” Seth looks scared. “I- I didn’t know she was taken.”

“She’s not.” He’s quick with it and I have to bite back my smile to contain myself from embarrassing Seth even more.

“Oh…” Seth hums, clearly wanting to go but I know Lando’s doing that thing where he states blankly at someone while smiling. “Well uh…”

“Choose your words carefully, Seth.” Lando slides him the shot then hands one to me. I decline and he downs it easily.

“Thanks.” He downs the drink with Lando, “And sorry.” Seth looks at me before scurrying off.

I turn to Lando, his hand never moving from my body, “Who knew you were so intimidating?

He shrugs, “I don’t mess around with the people I care about. Plus he just seemed like he was bugging you.”

“Quite talkative.” I smile softly as he laughs, “You’re good at the whole protective act.”

“Who said I was acting?” His face is serious when he says it, but immediately changes when he hears Max’s voice.

“Yo!” His hand drops to his side and he smiles at my approaching brother, “They have karaoke!”

P and Max end up on stage exactly two drinks later. I stick to water, my head already hurts from the others singing.

They're singing Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, and sort of slaying it. Max spins P as they both laugh and pretend they’re at some sort of concert.

“Please get up there!” I giggle with Lando, my hand on his arm as he smiles at me in that dreamy way he does so often.

“No way, Sunshine.” His eyes lined on my lips, his words a bit slurred.

“Please, Lan?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, “What’ll you give me if I do?” My breathing quickens as he looks at me, drunk and so out of it that he looks like he’s about to kiss me.

I reach my arm out to fix the messy bit of his hair. His eyes follow my hand and drift down my arm back to me. There’s something so personal about the way he looks at me but it’s hard to explain.

He’s got many different expressions and maybe I'm just a bit self centered, but I swear he has some just for me.

He’s drunk now so all secrecy goes out the window. He’s lucky Max and P are singing so horribly on the tiny sticky stage.

“Whatever you want.” I pull my hand away, “When you’re sober, though.”

“I’m not even that many drinks in!” He scoffs in a whiny tone.

He’s five drinks in I think.

“But i’ll do whatever you say apparently.” His chair makes noise against the floors, practically pushing P and Max off the stage as his chosen music starts.

Linger, by the cranberries.

My smile grows as he starts, absolutely butchering the song immediately. He looks fucking free and absolutely ridiculous.

The microphone against his lips as he spins around and points to me, “You’ve got me wrapped around your fingerrrrrr!”

It was my favorite song in highschool.

He’s a terrible singer and incredibly drunk but knows all the lyrics by heart.

Max starts videoing and Lando flips him off, P is actually in tears and I feel a sense of calm and quiet happiness. It’s weird to think about, especially surrounded by sound and drunken people.

Still, I really do appreciate my friends in moments like these. I watch Lando on the stage again, his eyes are closed and he’s singing along quietly.

Most of the bar claps when he’s done, providing him false confidence even as he almost falls from the stage.

Lando slumps himself in the chair next to mine, Max and I speaking about old Christmas’ and how weird it is that so many things have changed.

P talks about her family traditions and how she’s happy we’re all together even if it is a bit unconventional.

Lando stays quiet, just hums along to the music and keeps his eyes closed. Max laughs at his friend, “Ready for bed, Bob?”

“I can drive back.” I sit up.

Max and P aren’t quite ready to go and assure me that they can take a cab. Lando, however is piss drunk and giggling at everything I say.

He holds onto my hand as we leave, the cold air hitting him like a wreck, “Ay!” He practically runs to the car, tries to get in the driver's seat, and finally gives in to me driving.

“I don't want to go back!” He complains as I drive off.

“We can… look at lights?” He nods eagerly and rests his head against my arm, his fingers drift up and down my arm, doodling invisible drawings.

I drive through the small neighborhoods, all quiet for the time of night. The lights are bright and nothing like where I actually live.

Lando slips his hand in mine, holding it tight and looking out the front window. I let him rub his thumb against my skin, acknowledging the goosebumps it sends up arm.

Maybe I let myself pretend like it means something more than Lando’s drunk touchy self.

His curls brush my bare arm because he requested I take off my coat and turn the heat up instead because it was ‘itching him’.

And I did it because something about Lando makes me just want to say yes.

“I wanna house like that.” He says, pointing to a medium sized white home. It’s got colorful lights all over and a tiny display of Rudolph in the yard.

“I like this one.” I take my free hand off the wheel for a second and point. It’s across the street and covered in white lights.

I keep driving as Lando turns the radio on which is playing Christmas music.

He hums along with the song that he most definitely doesn’t know.

His hand goes to my hair, twirling it around his finger as he looks up at me, doe eyed, “Can I have my reward now.”

“You’re nowhere close to being sober, love.”

He stops when I speak, whispering as if there’s a million people around, “You called me love.”

“You’re not even gonna remember this tomorrow.”

He gasps, “Tomorrow's Christmas eve! What a good present. You love me.” He hums and rests his head back against my shoulder.

“Keep dreaming, Norris.” I say while smiling.

We look at all the different lights, rating them and laughing. I mostly laugh at drunk Lando who can’t stop laughing.

Lando rolls down the window and even though it’s freezing, I let him. It’s silent out, except for our music on low.

“Do you like me?” Lando asks as I start back to our place.

I raise a brow, “Sure.”

“But do you?” He looks up at me but I don’t dare look down.

“I don’t hate you.”

It’s easier to get him into the house than it was to get him in the car. Besides a tiny slip, he laughs it off and instantly pulls his shirt off when we step inside the hot house.

We both stumble upstairs, I'm so tired that I could fall asleep on the floor. Yet I drag myself into the bathroom and remove my makeup and change into sweats and a hoodie.

Lando is in sweats now, leaning against the bathroom door as I brush my hair. “I can’t sleep.”

I laugh, “You haven’t even tried.”

“Come with me?” I shake my head, going to my own bed. He follows me still, catching my wrist and begging, “Please. I’m cold.”

“You have no shirt on.”

“I want you to.” He admits and for a second I wish he wasn’t so fond of Vodka.

I’m dragged into his bed, his arms wrapping around me quickly and humming against my hoodie, “You’re warm.” His hand goes to mine again, holding it.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble.” I say as I see the smirk on his face.

“The doors locked.”

His hand is still intertwined with mine when he looks up at me. I probably look terrible, but he just smiles.

“You’re really beautiful, Sunny.” His voice is clear and the softest it’s been in a while, especially while drunk.

He yawns and rests his head back on me. Lando whispers while his eyes are closed, i’m not even sure if he meant to say it out loud, but he does. “I hate you for it.”

It’s the first time his words really hit me.

“Why?” I whisper, staring up at the ceiling.

“You know.” And then he’s asleep and i’m stuck with a man cuddling me who I think I just might like more than I ever thought I could.

⋆༺

There’s few times in my life where I completely regret my life’s decisions. This might just be one of them.

Max is staring at us with his mouth open.

Max is staring at Lando’s shirtless self and his bare arm that’s around me!

I elbow Lando so hard that he wakes up with a groan. “Five more minutes.” He tries to pull me closer but I slap him again.

He opens his eyes this time, at first they’re narrowed at me as if I had the audacity to wake him up. Then he turns his head to what i’m staring at and promptly sits up straight.

“Goodmorning, Max!” He grins.

“Shut the fuck up.” My brother responds, Lando’s face goes slack and lays back down, covering his face with a pillow, “Is this why you two wanted to leave early yesterday?”

“No!” I say right as Lando says, “Yes!”

“I think I'm going to throw up.” Max starts pacing while I see P peek her head in from my room, surveying the situation as I mouth ‘help me’ and he leaves me.

“Chill out! Nothing happened.” I say while Lando moans and reaches for the water on his bedside table. “Right, Lando!?” I hit him again.

He sends me an annoyed look, “Right.” He takes a drink, wiping his mouth and looking at Max, “Trust me mate if something did happen she wouldn’t be wearing anything.”

I think he might still be drunk.

Max and I scream in unison. I climb out of the bed, my leg getting stuck in the bedsheet.

“I came to check if you two were still alive because it’s eleven in the morning, but Lando’s door was locked. Yours wasn’t and your room connector was wide open!” I roll my eyes and stomp into my room.

“His drunk ass practically dragged me in there and I wanted to sleep!” I shrug, putting on my slippers and pulling my bed head hair into a messy bun.

“My head is pounding, can you two be quiet!?” Lando says from the other room.

Max follows me down the stairs, “Nothing happened?”

“Nothing happened!” I echo, finding P in the kitchen and sending her a wide eyed look, “He was drunk, Max.”

I pour myself some coffee, crossing my arms as Max gives me a look. Lando comes thumping down the stairs, hoodie on now with his hair an absolute mess. “Guys…”

Max stops him, “If you make another sex joke Lan, I might kill you.”

“Hey!” He groans, taking my coffee from out of my hands and drinking it! I roll my eyes and pour myself another. “I was just going to say-”

“Choose your words very carefully, Norris.” I mumble.

“Happy Christmas Eve.” He raises his mug, smiling at all of us.

“Oh.” Max blinks as P lets out a little snort.

“Well then…” P smiles at me, “I think it’s time to cook!”

[poespetraven]

Hiiiiiii hellooooooooo hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii so uh funny story I haven’t watched the new episode yet…

LET ME EXPLAIN

(!!!spoilers for both the X-tale comic and series below!!! (I’ve never tried using the “keep reading” line thingy ooh this is exciting! Heehee look at me being all tumblr proficient! (I still have no idea as to what I’m doing (shoot sorry I got distracted.))))

I DID REREAD THE X-TALE COMIC AND REWATCH THE X-TALE SERIES THO AND OH MY GOSH I FORGOT HOW MUCH I HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT THE X-TALE COMIC, ESPECIALLY THE 2ND HALF OF IT LIKE OH MY GOSH I FORGOT SO MANY LITTLE DETAILS THAT MAKE IT SO MUCH MORE DEVASTATING BRO WHY DO I NEED REREAD THIS MORE OFTEN WHAT AM I DOING?!?!

Anyways, that was fun! I guess in a way it was kinda fun having not read it in a while cause like I got to be surprised by some things I forgot. Like Cross almost killing Frisk in the very beginning and then panicking about it and feeling awful. The slow build up of his suspicion of Frisk. And the whole deal with Papyrus secretly protecting Cross from his blasters to make Undyne and Frisk think he killed Cross. I had been thinking that Cross saved himself for a while now. And you know what? You know what that does? YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MAKES EXTRA DEVASTATING?! YOU KNOW WHAT OTHER KNIFE TWISTING DETAIL I FORGOT?! CROSS INITIALLY SPARED PAPYRUS! DO YOU REMEMBER THAT?! DO YOU?!?!?!? CAUSE I DIDN’T! I FORGOT! BUT AFTER CROSS KILLED EVERYBODY HE LEFT PAPYRUS TOTALLY UNHARMED AND WAS LIKE “Papyrus wants me happy 🥰” AND PAPYRUS IS JUST LIKE STANDING THERE AND THEN HE’S LIKE HES LIKE “yeah but like maybe you went like a little too far-“ THEN BOOM HES FUCKING DEAD. CROSS KILLS HIM! LIKE URGHHHHHH IT HURTS IT PHYSICALLY HURTS ME! AND THEN LIKE WHAT HAPPENS DIRECTLY AFTER? LIKE I FORGOT ABOUT FRISK TRYING TO GIVE CROSS THE HEART LOCKET AND THEN CHARA ACCIDENTALLY KILLING FRISK!!! LIKE I HAVE I ROBBED MYSELF BY NOT REMEMBERING THIS ANGST! IT MAKES CROSS’ REALIZATION THAT HE CAN’T ACTUALLY BRING EVERYBODY BACK EVEN MORE DEVASTATING!

So uh yeah I had a very fun time rereading the comic. And then I rewatched the X-Take series like the next day and OH MY GOSH IT WAS EVEN BETTER HAVING JUST READ THE COMIC LIKE IT JUST HITS SO MUCH HARDER AND I should probably stop there before I jump into another rant. This post was not supposed to be this long oops. I’ll just summarize what I was going to say by saying that this series gives me Feelings and Emotions.

BUT I STILL HAVENT WATCHED THE NEW UNDERVERSE EPISODE! I’ve being holding off for a day when my family is out of the house for long enough for me to rewatch all of Underverse Season 2 plus the new episode cause I want to try and see if I can put it on our television. BUT GUYS I DONT KNOW IF I CAN WAIT ANY LONGER! I THINK IM GONNA CAVE! LIKE I DON’T NEED TO WATCH IT LIKE THAT! LIKE ITS A NICE IDEA SURE BUT LIKE WOULD I REALLY ENJOY THE EPISODE LESS IF I DIDN’T WATCH IT LIKE THAT? NO! WHY AM I DOING THIS! I DONT KNOW! WHY AM POSTING THIS ON TUMBLR? WHY AM I STILL TYPING? WHO IS EVEN GOING TO READ THIS? HEY YOU THERE! YEAH YOU! WHY ARE YOU READING THIS? WHATS GOING ON?

…well I think I have officially decided that I am not going to wait until the house is empty to watch the new episode cause that’s stupid. I’m going watch it on my laptop with my headphones and a cozy blanket on my bed the way it was intended and it is going to be fucking fantastic.

UNDERVERSE 0.8 PART 1 Premiere

[insomniadreamzz]

Imma go combine two requests in that one.

Request 1: i was thinking if you could write something like jinx using her shimmer speed for fucking?

Request 2: If you still take requests, and when you get a chance, could you do a G!P Jinx x fem reader? The scenario I was picturing was that they are cuddling with the reader in Jinx's lap, and the reader is sort of grinding against her as they try and reposition themselves. And they're unaware of what it's doing to Jinx and eventually Jinx has enough and and fucks the reader right then and there.

———

My good girl

Mentions of G!P, smut, rough sex, overstimulation, blowjob, bratty Reader, dom!Jinx

You finally got Jinx away from her work bench, cuddling for a while now, you straddling her lap while your head rested in the crook of her neck. You loved cuddling with her, inhaling her beautiful scent. In moments like this even Jinx was calm, not being her usual bubbly self. The only thing that you could hear was her calm breathing and feeling her hand caress up and down your back. Jinx showing affection like this is a rare thing so you enjoyed every second.

„I love you.“ You whispered, your breath tickling her a little, she pressed a kiss on your forehead. „I love you too.“ You loved hearing her say that, slightly shifting on her lap to reposition yourself a little, feeling how Jinx‘s body tensed up but she didn’t say anything yet. You did move again, your crotch grinding against hers and you leaned up to have a better view of her now, you could see her cheeks being flushed red and her expression showing a little bit of weakness. You didn’t think about anything not innocent so you didn’t really understand why she looked at you like this.

„What? You okay?“ You giggle innocently, placing a soft kiss on her lips, as you do so you shifted again. „Ngh…fine that’s enough.“ Jinx groaned as she flipped you over, now being on top of you as she pushed you into the mattress. „Don’t you think I noticed this?“ She grumbled as her hands pinned yours down, she was being serious but you still didn’t get it. „Noticed what? We were cuddling.“ You mentioned and she let out a little sigh before pressing her clothed crotch against yours, making you feel her bulge.

Your cheeks instantly heat up, surprised by her getting excited so fast. „I-…I didn’t think you would get that hard because of a little shifting.“ Your words made her grunt, rolling her eyes annoyed. „Yea sure. You grind against me and think I won’t get hard? Nice try love, I am gonna give you what you deserve for lying to me. You know I hate being lied on.“

Even though you didn’t lie at all to her and just wanted a innocent moment with her without thinking about your own movements and what they would cause, you felt excited to see what she will do to you so you just played along with her. Telling her you didn’t do it on purpose won’t work on Jinx anyways if she is stuck in her own mindset. That’s what you learned about her very fast.

„Mhh…so you wanna put your little brat in her place?“ You just went along with the little game, not knowing what it would cause. „So? You’re so confident aren’t you? Let me fuck that confidence out of you then.“ She said with a husky voice, sitting up to remove her pants to let her hard cock free. Before you could react she grabbed you by your hair, making you sit up and shoved her cock inside of your mouth. „That’s it…use that bratty mouth on me.“ Jinx groaned as she moved her hips, letting her cock slide down your throat, making you gag a little bit on it. You tried your best to please her, letting her go all in and as fast as she wanted, your tongue swirling around her cock, hands placed on her hips to keep you up.

When she had the feeling she shut you up enough, only hearing your muffled moans and looking into your teary eyes, she decided to pull on your hair as she made you lean back a little, her cock and your mouth being connected by a string of your saliva as you looked at her beautiful pink eyes glowing of excitement. „That’s my good girl…I am not planning on giving you the pleasure to swallow it this time. I‘d rather want to make a mess out if you. Brats do deserve that.“ Her smirk was very evil, you knew that look on her face. She really meant what she said.

Jinx removed your pants and panties as well along with your shirt, wanting to have you fully exposed to her, smirking playfully as she gazed down at you, spreading your legs to see you being dripping wet for her. Your own hands move to your breasts, wanting to touch yourself but Jinx didn’t like that idea, giving you a little slap on your wet pussy which made you whine out loudly, whimpering after. „No touching. I am gonna touch you, your hands better stay away if you don’t want me to slap you again.“ She commanded you before adjusting herself properly between your legs, moving her cock inside of you deeply without a warning, making you moan out. „Ah! Fuck Jinx!“

Jinx only smirked playfully at your reaction. „Didn’t I tell you I will fuck the brat out of you?“ She didn’t wait for you to get used to her size as she started thrusting her hips inside of you, both of you ending up being a moaning mess, your tummy making a little bulge each time she thrusted into you made her know she was just hitting the right spot. Her eyes started glowing a lot again, a sign that showed whenever she used her shimmer which made her thrust into you in a inhuman speed, making you moan uncontrollably as your legs clenched around her, reaching your orgasm as your juices spilled all over her cock.

Jinx didn’t think of stopping yet, throwing her head back as she moaned out loudly, little strings of pink light following her eyds as she moved her head back. „J-Jinx! Stop!…I-I can’t-…ahh!“ You try to beg her to stop feeling overstimulated, not even able to form proper words, your whimpering moans cutting of your words. Jinx loved everything about this, looking down at you with such a needy gaze, you were wondering how she could keep herself from cumming.

„Naw…I am sure you can baby. You are my good girl. You can take it.“ She encouraged you, still pounding into you hard and fast, filling up the room with lewd wet sounds. Your juices helping her to slide in even more easier. „Hnng! You are so good for me, taking my punishment so good huh? Yes that’s it, good girl, my good girl.“ She groaned in between her moaning, biting her lower lip, a sign she was close and so were you, cumming again with a whine, your legs trembling underneath her, arching your back, tears of pleasure running down your eyes and finally Jinx reached her high as well, pulling out to cum on your lower tummy, making a mess out of you. „God…so sexy for me…“ She mumbled under her breath, jerking herself off on you before she leaned down, running her tongue along your wet folds, tasting your juices mixed together, feeling you twitch when her tongue reached your clit.

Jinx was satisfied for now, seeing you all done as you are still not ready to form words, being out of breath. „Next time don’t be so bratty and I will cum inside you instead~“ She said with her usual playful voice like she didn’t just dominate you and fucked you breathless.

She positioned herself back beside you, pulling you close to her chest as she began to be her soft, loving self again towards you, whispering so softly to you. „You’re mine, remember that.“ You just nod, feeling your body already feeling sore and she knew that, keeping you close to her until you both eventually fall asleep in each others arms.

[p0ckykiss]

i'd do it all again (if it was with you) - jeon jungkook

summary -> jungkook is faced with a tough decision, and you just want the best for him.

warnings -> angst, zombie apocalypse, major character death

jungkook slams the door behind him, throwing his body weight onto the rickety wood. his chest is on fire and his breathing is erratic. he looks across to see you in a similar state in front of him and grimaces.

the two of you are sticky with blood and sweat, just barely escaping a horde of undead with their bodies unscathed. jungkook sinks down, now sitting against the door. he takes in the state you are in, both of your chests still heaving from the chase.

“y/n that was fucking insane!” jungkook exclaims, a glimmer of relief flashes in his eyes. your expression remains vacant. jungkook continues on in enthusiasm .

“we were fucking amazing, that was such a close call, holy shit,” he groans in pain, but is quickly replaced with excitement, probably from the residual adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

“jung-”

“they almost had us! It was so close, but luckily we pulled through,” he’s almost laughing at this point, voice heightening in pitch.

“listen, I-”

“and near the end? when that one almost got me? fuck and then you pulled tha-”

“I got bit.” you deadpan. jungkook falls silent, staring at you like you just grew a second head.

you lift your left arm, just above your elbow, a bite the size of a tennis ball sat disgustingly. jungkook’s body goes numb and suddenly it’s so hard to breathe. he continues to stare at the wound for what feels like an eternity, shaking his head in disbelief.

“no, no no no no no no no no no.” jungkook repeats, now standing from the door, pacing in circles in the cramped bunker. he runs his hands through his hair in panic, aggressively pulling at the roots. frankly, jungkook has no idea what to do. he knew that it was always a possibility for one of them to get bitten, but he always thought it would be him, not you, and he sure as hell didn’t think it would happen anytime soon. fuck, this couldn’t be happening. a whine from you interrupts jungkook’s thoughts.

“listen to me, gguk, you know what to do.” you say between breaths, you groan as you reach at your waist, pulling out a small handgun. your head leans back, and you blindly shove the device toward jungkook.

jungkook’s world is spinning. he feels disgusted. the adrenaline from earlier quickly clears out and is replaced with a dismal dread that eats away at his mind.

“this wasn’t supposed to happen to you, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. oh my god y/n, I’m so sorry, ohmygod.” jungkook’s words collide into one another in a jumbled mess of gibbering panic. his breaths are erratic and rushed as he sobs violently. he still hasn’t grabbed the gun from you. 

“this is my fault, gguk,I wasn’t careful. I guess you were right, I am gonna get myself killed one day,” you laugh, referring to jungkook constantly patronizing you for your recklessness on the field.

you both go silent for a moment, and all jungkook wants to do is vomit. this couldn’t be happening. you were doing so well, you could’ve lived through this. you were supposed to be happy. he laughs audibly, feeling so stupid for even thinking he’d be given the luxury. now, his whole world was laid on the metal floor of a rickety old bunker, in god knows where, with a deadly bite on your arm.

“just fucking do it, put me out of my fucking misery, jungkook.” you pause for a moment, breathing deeply before continuing.

“I don’t know how much longer I have.” jungkook legs give up on him and he collapses to the floor.

he reaches towards the metal contraption with shaky hands. jungkook’s handled guns plenty of times, loves the rush of it, but now, he’s never felt more disgusted with himself. the device felt heavy in his hands, he feels bile rising in his throat. he didn’t know if it was because it was the gun y/n never let him touch, the one you prided yourself in owning, or if it was because he was about to kill the love of his life. probably the latter.

he stands up once again, head pounding with pain. his body is sore, and he can’t feel his legs, yet he manages to stand straight. grimacing, he cocks the gun back, pointing it to you. you look up at jungkook, and smile.

“working with you,” your words cut off with a pained groan. jungkook’s lip quivers.

“…made everything worth it, all the pain,” you cough out violently, trails of blood following suit before continuing. “I’d do it all again… if it was with you.”

“keep living, for me. you have to.” you speak up one more time, choking between your words. “I love you… so much, kook.”

looking away from you, he shuts his eyes, and jungkook feels his soul tear as a deafening shot rips through the air.

[starrose17]

I'm deleting all my fics on AO3.

This is in protest of the new trend of zero interaction, zero reblogs and zero comments that content creators now have to put up with, fandom is now a depressing place and I'm sick and tired of giving everything and getting nothing.

Everyone keeps saying "Oh but you should write for yourself" well fine, I am, this is what fandom would be like if everyone only wrote for themselves and therefore don't need to share their work. Empty. Fandom is now empty.

I've been on tumblr for a very long time and still have people who followed me for past fandoms, so should you want to keep any of my fics please download them now.

I have already deleted the majority of my fics on there except the following 7 of my long fics, which I will list here. In 24 hours they will be deleted also, so please download them if you wish to keep them.

This is the end of my participation in fandom.

Title: Asunder

Fandom: Loki

Pairing: Mobius/Loki

Summary - The violent God and the gentle Man, two sides of Loki’s split personality that has him locked in a criminal mental institution. His doctor, Mobius, has him under his care, but there are things Loki doesn’t remember, about his crime, about his past…about who Mobius really is. All Loki knows is that he is afraid of what the God will do next, and that the easy smile of his doctor makes something stir warmly inside him.

Title: See You Tomorrow

Fandom: Vikings

Pairing: Athelnar

Summary: After suffering through a horrific tragedy, Athelstan has lost his faith. A difficult thing, when living in the village on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne. Refusing to talk to God, and knowing the locals are watching him, Athelstan tries to continue with his life as though he wasn't screaming inside. When a tourist named Ragnar Lothbrok visits the island, his wild and very forward personality gives Athelstan a jump start in actually living his life, not just being alive. Though Athelstan isn't entirely sure if it helps or not that Ragnar is trying to seduce him every two seconds. Hint: It does.

Title: Bad Reputation

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Real life pairing J2 Jensen/Jared

Summary: A-list Hollywood movie star, rich, charmingly charismatic, sweetheart of the industry, Vogue’s Sexiest Man Alive 2 years in a row, wanted by all producers and all gold diggers alike with his fans in the millions. So how had lowly car mechanic Jensen now got Jared’s phone number written on the back of his hand, his chevy impala in his garage, and a promise of dinner, Jensen didn’t the fuck know! Now there’s paparazzi at his door and Jared turning up in the middle of the night in tears, what has Jensen got himself involved in?

Title: Guardian of the Soulless

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Summary: Geralt has just left a relationship with Yennefer, the boss of a top London crime family. They leave on good terms, and he stays as a bodyguard for hire to be called upon when needed. He has every reason to believe his life will carry on as normal, but he barely gets two footsteps down the street before he finds a noisy angel amongst his monsters of the crime world. Jaskier has no idea what he's gotten himself involved with, and frankly he's more excited for it. Cue Jaskier finding a heart to call home, and Geralt realising love is what he'd always been missing.

Title: The The Stars

Fandom: Good Omens

Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale

Summary: The happy ending Titanic!Au. Aziraphale is being forcibly sent to America to be forcibly married to Gabriel. Crowley is going to forcibly screw that up.

Title: L/S - I Will Stand Here With You

Fandom: Black Sails

Pairing: Flint/Silver

Summary - Silver's the irresistible hot singer for the new band L/S. Flint is a lonely man. Miranda is his fed up friend needing to get Flint back in the game. What she doesn't expect is what she'd planned as a one night stand between the two men to grow into something beautiful.

Title - We Met At The Park

Fandom: X-Men First Class

Pairing: Erik/Charles

Summary: Unable to sleep one night Erik takes a midnight walk in the local park. He finds himself being followed and propositioned by a rent boy named Charles, and begins to fall rather rapidly for his charms. Charles however has never known what love is, and doesn't recognise it even when it's staring at him in the face. As for Erik, he doesn't realise a creeping illness is slowly affecting Charles, and his dark past is something he couldn't have imagined.

[bitchkay]

This whole fic series altered my brain chemistry.

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track five: the battle of the bands

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, alcohol, DOGGOS, yuji literally is just a ray of sunshine 24/7, mentions of drunk driving, so much fluff, ridiculous amount of kissing tbh, short time skip at the end, FINAL CHAPTER! || sfw. 8.8k words.

FOR THE FIRST time in a long stretch of busy days, you wake up not to the chirp of your alarm but to soft rays of Saturday morning sunlight seeping through the cracks in the blinds, painting your eyelids orange-gold. You crack an eye open and find Takuma stirring beside you. Right.

“Morning,” you whisper. For a moment, when Takuma opens his eyes, he looks surprised, and then he seems to remember why and how you got here and his expression melts into a soft smile.

“Morning, Skip.” He yawns. “Time’s it?”

You shrug. You’re pretty sure your phone is dead.

“Eh, it’s Saturday,” he mumbles. “S’fine.” You chuckle, daring to reach out and ruffle his hair. You don’t know what this is, the unspoken thing in the thin slice of air between you. You know what you want it to be, though.

For a while you both lie in comfortable silence, letting the sounds of the awakening house float up the stairs toward you. Murmuring, clattering around in the kitchen, the front door opening and closing, cars outside.

“Hey,” you say eventually, making eye contact. His eyes are a very deep shade of brown, dark but warm in a way that reminds you of old bookshelves or tree bark after the rain.

“Hey back.”

He’s relaxed, every part of him unhurried, and you take the image of it and stamp it into your mind over the memory of the night prior. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Takuma smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Maybe it should be more awkward, the fact that you’re here in his bed in his clothes and you haven’t named whatever it is that stretches out in the silence. But it’s not. It’s just… easy.

“Skipper?”

“Hm?”

“I really, really like you,” Takuma whispers. The words wrap themselves around you, warm when you didn’t know you were cold.

“Yeah?” You bring a hand up to his face, trace the line of his jaw. His cheeks are a little colored in the mix of light slipping through the window and the cracked door. “I really, really like you too, Takuma.”

He cups your face in both hands, pulls your lips to his, and your whole body responds, pressing up against him in the too-small twin bed. Your hand goes to hold the back of his neck, deepening the kiss, and this is what people write love songs about, you fucking get it now, all the metaphors and cliché words you thought were exaggerations but no, they’re not, because you’re feeling all of them all at once and you don’t ever want to leave this moment in time.

“Like” doesn’t feel strong enough, not for this. You’ve only known him for a month. Is it really possible he’s already become so integral to the structure of your heart?

You’re kissing in the early morning light and it’s hungrier than you thought your next kiss would be, because even though all the rest of your days are rolling out before you, you don’t know how many there are. He twists so he’s above you on his knees, one of them between your legs, and it’s like a reversal of that night on the roof, like you can feel the night air even in the golden midmorning hours.

“Kuma,” you murmur between kisses, and he grins against your mouth, takes your next breath and makes it his.

At some point you’re interrupted by the startled growl of your stomach, and you break apart, unable to stifle the giggles rising up in your throat. “Well.”

“Well,” Takuma echoes, grinning. He stands and offers you a hand. “Breakfast?”

Downstairs, the house is alive with idle chatter and the clinking of silverware. Kirara is seated atop the counter, legs swinging as she eats a plate of eggs, and Hakari stands beside her leaning against the cabinets. Megumi scrolls absently through his phone at the table, the dogs looking up at him expectantly from either side, and Yuji is digging through a bunch of take-out boxes. When he sees you, his whole face lights up.

“Morning!” he practically sings. “Here, eat food.”

“Where’d this come from?” Takuma asks.

“My friend dropped off breakfast,” Yuji chirps, pushing a Tupperware container of pancakes toward you. If it weren’t for the brace wrapped around his wrist, you’d have no idea anything happened. He’s his usual golden retriever self.

You smile, forking one of the pancakes onto a plate. “That’s sweet.”

Your phone buzzes, and it’s Tsumiki sending you the link to the news brief. You frown at the headline, not out of any disrespect for the writer who stepped up to cover it, but more at the fact that it’s unfortunately true.

JU senior issued DUI after crash on 34th and Olson Blvd Friday night

“What’s up?” Takuma asks, immediately noting your expression. You slide the phone across the counter, watching its screen catch the light from the kitchen window. Kirara leans over it as well and starts reading off Junpei’s story halfway through.

“Zenin, who according to a campus police report was driving under the influence of alcohol, was on the phone with an ex-girlfriend when he swerved into the opposite lane.” Her dark brows knit together in some combination of anger and disbelief. “Jesus.”

“That’s fucked,” you murmur.

Someone’s phone rings, and Megumi glances at his screen and blinks, seems to hesitate. Then he gets up and disappears down the hall. You glance at Takuma, but he just shrugs. It’s probably Gojo.

The rest of you eat and eventually make your way to the living room, scattering yourselves across the couch and carpet and chairs.

“That single last night,” Takuma says, letting Kuro jump up beside him on the couch. “Concept. Make it the title track of an EP.”

You blink for a second, startled. “Wait, for real?”

“Yes!” Takuma says, sitting up straighter. “Think about it. Cover art is one of those name tag stickers, you all sign it, wrinkle it up and crease it and take a grainy film photo. And you put the song on it with Next Fix and a couple of your older singles you and blow up.”

“Or you print one off that says hello, our name is,” Kirara pipes up, seeming excited by the idea. “Ooh, you can have an intro track like that.”

“All caps. Just to match the energy,” you say, picturing the EP cover in your mind. “HELLO MY NAME IS. No punctuation either.”

“I like it,” Kirara nods. Takuma’s got that excited shine to his eyes, and you realize he’s very in his element in this conceptual space—he really will be a good producer. He has the mind for it.

Megumi slips back into the room looking a little haphazard, disgruntled, looking anywhere but into anyone else’s eyes, and Yuji cocks his head in question. Not Gojo, then. “Who was that?”

“No one,” Megumi lies, waving him off and turning back toward the kitchen to avoid everyone’s questioning gaze. Hm.You know better than to ask, and it seems that’s the consensus, because nobody pushes it—Megumi will open up in his own time. You hope he figures it out soon.

For your part, it’s a lazy Saturday, hanging out with Takuma, Yuji, Megumi, Kirara, and Hakari, gaming and talking and generally just existing in each other’s presence. After the chaos of last night, it seems to be exactly what all of you needed.

It’s not until late afternoon that Kirara broaches the topic of the band.

She gestures at Yuji, a flapping motion that misses the mark a little because Kirara is sprawled upside-down in the beanbag in the corner. “Itadori, can you, like… drum with that?”

He shrugs, looking down at his injured wrist. “Yeah, probably!” You frown. So much of drumming is in the wrist, and you kind of figured Kirara’s question was rhetorical. You realize abruptly that Shibuya Incident is still going up against Black Flash in the finals on Friday, and if they don’t have Yuji, they’re fucked.

“Psh, don’t look like that, it’s fine,” Yuji insists, grabbing two Wii remotes and wielding them like drumsticks. He goes to bang them around, mimicking a rock beat, and you watch as his face twists into a grimace and he drops one of them. “Okay, so, update: never mind!” He grins sheepishly.

Kirara is the first one to look at you, and by the time you’ve processed what exactly it is she’s trying to say, everyone else has their eyes locked on you—including Yuji.

Oh, shit.

“Whaddaya say, girl drummer?” Kirara asks, pointing a finger gun at you.

“Oh, guys, I don’t… I don’t know, it’s your band. Yuji—”

But Yuji is the one who seems the most excited about it. He’s abandoned both Wii remotes on the floor and is now looking up at you with bright eyes and his eternal grin. “No, Skipper, please? It would be so fun! I can still do aux and stuff. But we could play together! It would be so awesome!”

“Is that even allowed?” you ask, glancing at Takuma, who’s trying and failing to hide a boyishly excited smile. “I mean, I already got eliminated.”

“Hang on,” Hakari says, pulling out his phone. It takes you a minute to realize who he’s asking. “Yeah, no, Panda says it’s whatever. Better that than not have a battle at all.”

Takuma nudges you with a knee, looking at you with steady eyes. It’s your choice, he seems to say.

“I think,” you say slowly, “I should talk to my band first. But… I’m not opposed.”

Yuji whoops so loudly you flinch a little and Takuma grins, putting his arm around you and squeezing your shoulder.

“I probably should head out,” you say, a little reluctantly. “Kinda left the roommates high and dry last night.”

Kirara salutes you, her face red from the blood rush of still being upside down, and Yuji chirps out a happy see ya!

“I’ll walk you out,” Takuma says, standing when you do. You say bye to the band and the dogs and he follows you to the front door, going as far as to step just outside with you. The door stays open just a crack as you linger, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. He pulls you in and kisses you right there on the front step, and you smile against his lips.

“Are we, like…?” Takuma murmurs when he pulls away, cheeks flushed from the question or the cold, you can’t tell.

“Are we what?” you tease, shoving lightly at his chest.

“You know.”

“Well, if you don’t say it I’m gonna beat you to asking—”

This seems to zap whatever hesitation Takuma had right out of him, and he cuts in, “Willyoubemygirlfriend?”

“Sorry, what was that?” You know you’ve got a shit-eating grin on your face, but you can’t stop it. “Couldn’t really hear you—”

“Oh my god. Will,” he says slowly, drawing out the word, “You. Be. My. Girlfriend?”

You can see your laugh fanning out before you in a puff of warm air, and you tip your head forward into his chest, grinning. “Yes, Takuma, I would love to be your girlfriend.” You pull back and look up at him, lacing your fingers together. “I was kind of trying to get you alone all week so we could figure out what the fuck was going on. But it worked out, huh?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “It worked out.” He reaches up and ruffles your hair, laughing when you go to swat his hand away. “I was trying to get you alone, too,” he admits. “I like spending time with you, Skip. I’m pretty sure you’re the coolest person I’ve met, like, ever.”

“Ever,” you echo. “Those are some pretty lofty expectations to live up to.”

He shrugs. “You meet them all.”

Despite yourself, heat creeps up to your cheeks again.

“That was less scary than I thought it was gonna be,” Takuma confesses. Your phone rings in your pocket, and you glance at it and see Maki’s name sliding across the screen.

“Think that’s my cue.” You plant one last kiss on Takuma’s lips and turn around, throwing a “bye, boyfriend” over your shoulder. You glance back and catch him mid fist-pump, and he sheepishly shoves his hands into his pockets when he realizes you saw.

You’re still wearing his clothes, you realize as you answer your phone. Guess it doesn’t really matter, since they’re your boyfriend’s.

“Hey,” Maki says in your ear. “You comin’ home anytime soon? No rush, but we’re making lunch so we figured we’d ask.” In the background, you can hear Toge singing what you think is a dramatic rendition of Kristoff’s song from Frozen II, but you aren’t entirely certain because none of the words are right.

“Yeah, I’m literally walking through the door in thirty seconds,” you say, and Nobara’s face appears in the kitchen window. She waves excitedly and you raise a hand in return.

“Oh, sick.” The line goes dead as you open the front door. “Hey!” Maki shouts when she hears it click, and you slam it closed against the rush of cool air trying to sneak inside with you.

“Hi!” you call back.

Yuta pokes his head around the corner and grins at you. “Welcome home, our favorite breaking news reporter.”

“I didn’t actually report on anything,” you admit, kicking your shoes off and padding into the kitchen. Toge is somehow balancing cross-legged on one of the high stools, and Maki is making tacos. “Conflict of interest once I realized who it was.”

“Yeah, I saw the article,” Nobara chimes in, glancing up from her phone. “Yikes. Frickin’ Naoya Zenin. What an asshat.”

You snort. What an understatement.

“Hope he rots in jail,” Maki says in a sing-song voice, not even looking up.

“I love family,” Toge says.

You fill your friends in on the crash and the aftermath and Yuji’s wrist, leaving out some of the details about Takuma, because that feels a little invasive. And then Yuta asks the big question: “What about the band?”

“About that,” you say, taking a deep breath. You’re not exactly sure why this makes you so nervous. Maybe it’s just that these are your people, your band, and you all worked so hard and then went down together. It doesn’t seem fair that you get to go back on stage and try again and the rest of them don’t. “So. They asked me to fill in—“

“Yes!” Nobara shouts, pumping a fist in the air. “Oh, that’s so awesome!”

“Well, I didn’t say yes yet—”

“What? Why?” Toge asks incredulously. You laugh, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. Of course they’re okay with it. These are your best friends. They’ll always have your back.

“I wanted to check with you guys,” you say, feeling silly about it now. “Just—I don’t know, to make sure. Since it’s not our band, and I didn’t want you guys to feel like I was, I don’t know, like…”

“Musically cheating?” Maki chuckles. “Skipper, this is great. You should say yes.”

Yuta solemnly puts a hand over his heart. “Avenge us.”

“Thanks, guys.” You grin as you hop up on the counter next to Nobara, pressing your shoulder to hers. “I love y’all.”

“Sap,” Maki says, which means love you too.

—

Using a drum set that isn’t yours is always a weird experience. You feel like everything is just ever so slightly off, and Yuji’s kit is an absolute patchwork of different brands of heads and shells and cymbals. You have to lower the stool because he’s taller than you. But it’s just for rehearsal, at least—you can use your own kit at The Fix.

It’s your first time in the shabby basement of Takuma’s house, and it looks distinctly different than your own. They’ve pinned old rugs to the walls as a type of sound deadener, not dissimilar to your own setup, but their lighting is a collection of Facebook marketplace floor lamps and a little disco ball that’s apparently Yuji’s. Your basement has string lights and a bunch of stools and beanbags, and this one has extra blankets all over the floor where Yuji and Kirara have made themselves at home.

Learning Shibuya Incident’s songs isn’t difficult—you’ve heard enough of their music to anticipate what’s coming, and Yuji’s there to give you pointers. Their three-song set for the final performance isn’t actually done, because they don’t feel like they have a good enough finisher, and after you’ve run the first two songs several times you mess around with potential chorus lines.

“What about that?” Kirara says after plucking out a new melody. “It’s hype enough, I think. Or it will be, once we add the rest of you.”

“I like that.” You tap out the rhythm on the snare rim, humming. “You have lyrics?” You look at Takuma, who’s staring at the ceiling like it might have all the answers if he just squints hard enough.

“Somethin’ about, like… losing your head a little bit because you caught feels,” he says. “Like, you’re down so bad you can’t function, to be dramatic about it. That triplet at the beginning of the chorus, Kirara—”

She plucks it out again, down-up-down. “On my own,” Takuma echoes, down-up-down. “Every little move I can’t pin down…”

The words tumble past your lips before you can stop them, because they’ve been circling your head for a week now. “Friends with all the dead in my ghost town.”

He spins around to look at you, a grin spreading across his face. “Yes! It’s like I’m going…”

“Going,” Kirara echoes, and they go back and forth—going, going, “out of my mind!”

“Whoo!” Yuji cheers, pumping a fist in the air. “Holy shit. That was crazy.” Takuma grabs the nearest beat-to-hell spiral notebook and starts scribbling.

Megumi starts laying out a bassline, subtly driving the beat forward a little, and you clamp the hat down on two and four to keep time. Kirara comes in with something that must be the verse, and Takuma reads off, “You left in the morning after eight, I got into work two hours late, I can’t see the sun without your face.” Bass, bass, bass. Megumi nods along and Yuji is practically dancing from his spot on the floor.

“One day and I run fresh out of light…”

Hm. You add, “Twelve hours without your hand in mine.”

“I’m dizzy and overworked and tired,” Kirara sings lowly. All three of you sing the chorus again, and you feel just like you’re at home in your own basement, writing a song in real time with Nobara and Maki and the boys.

“Oh, that slaps,” Takuma practically shouts. “Jesus. We’re gonna win.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Megumi warns, a wry quirk to his lips.

Kirara glances at her phone. “Food’s here. Break time, freaks.” She bounds up the stairs and Megumi follows to help her grab the bags—you DoorDashed Taco Bell, since Yuji never got his beloved crunch wrap on Friday.

You leave your sticks on the snare and move around the drum set, flopping down on the ground beside Takuma. “You’re good at that,” you tell him honestly, pulling the notebook away to read what he’s writing down. I met you across the darkened stage, you shook up my life, you got me made, you’re drivin’ me crazy night and day.

You can’t help thinking of the night you met him, locking eyes while he sang from the edge of the low stage at The Fix, lit up by purple-red stage lights and putting you in a trance. You scribble a few more lines after his and hand the pen back.

“You’re a poet,” he tells you, and you laugh.

“I’m a journalist.”

“Woman of many talents,” he says, echoing Maki’s words from that first night you met.

“Itadori!” Kirara shouts down the stairs.

“Coming!” Yuji leaps up and disappears up the rickety basement staircase, leaving you and Takuma alone.

“Hey,” he says, tapping the pen on the page. You glance up at him, nodding for him to keep going. “Can I take you out? Like, on an actual date?”

Something light and quick kicks around in your chest, a hummingbird loose in your ribcage. “I would not be opposed,” you say, as if the idea doesn’t make you want to kick your feet like a little kid. “When are you thinking?”

“Mm, you’re in night class prison tomorrow,” he says, tapping the pen against his lip now. “Tuesday?”

It shouldn’t make you so irrationally happy that he remembers your schedule, but logic seems to go out the window where Takuma Ino is concerned. “Tuesday’s good. Where do you wanna go?”

He shakes his head adamantly, tapping you on the nose with his pen. “Leave it to me.”

—

The only things Takuma’s told you about your date tonight are dress warm and bring your board. He meets you outside your place at four, his bag definitely bulkier than usual, his own skateboard under one foot.

You’re wearing a denim jacket over a hoodie and your favorite cargo pants with your boots, and you tucked a beanie and gloves into your bag just in case, but it’s surprisingly balmy out for late October. The wind is the worst of it.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Takuma says when you coast down the driveway and come to a stop beside him. The greeting makes you blush as much as his smile does, and he chuckles as he pushes off. “This way.”

“Where are we going?”

“Crazy,” he says. You roll your eyes. Sounds like the kind of dad joke Yuta would make.

“Well, then.” The two of you make your way down the street and around the bend, and you realize he’s taking you to the skate park. But at the entrance he keeps going, around the pit and a few of the ramps and to the largest one, back in the corner—not the one Sukuna deals under, but the one opposite. And you stop in your tracks, your longboard making a protesting schkk under your feet, when you see it.

Battery-powered string lights loop around the posts and down the underside of the ramp, and blankets and pillows are spread out across the ground. The area is sheltered from the worst of the wind, and you know your jaw is hanging open a little as you watch Takuma unload his bag—JBL speaker, two thermoses, and a bunch of food.

“Takuma,” you say, not knowing what other words suffice. “I—oh my god.” You did not peg him as being this romantic.

Then you think about his song lyrics and think maybe you should have.

He grins at you from where he’s sat down on the blankets, holding out one of the thermoses. You leave your board by one of the poles and sit down beside him, taking it and letting the warmth seep into your hands. “What is it?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Mm.” You scoot closer to him, staring up at the layers and layers of graffiti and marker art covering the underside of the ramp. “This is maybe the sweetest thing ever.”

“I’m glad,” he says. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

“I wouldn’t know.” You take a sip of the hot chocolate—still warm. “It’s romantic. Big fan.”

“Really?” He points to where somebody drew a dick on the far side of the ramp.

“Okay, well, you didn’t have to point it out,” you smirk. “You ever done graffiti?” Looking at his mischievous smile and the beanie tugged over his head, the skateboard abandoned a few feet away, he does look like the type.

“Tagging?” He shrugs. “No. I would, though. Maybe we should.”

You hum, staring up at the arcing bubble letters and jagged black lines all over the ramp. You think you’d be horrible at graffiti, but you’ve always appreciated it, the way it sends a message and doesn’t ask for anything in return.

“This is like… alternative aesthetic stargazing,” you muse, lifting a finger and tracing the sharp lines of one of the illegible words in the air. You could stare at all this art for hours and never find all the intricacies of it.

Takuma digs around in his bag and produces a Sharpie with an “aha!”

“You’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie?”

He throws it at you and you catch it in one hand, instinctively twirling it like a drumstick. “We’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie,” he corrects.

And so you do.

The nearest part of the wall is covered in bright pink paint outlined in black, and it takes you a moment of squinting and tilting your head to realize it says LEAVEYOURMARK. Seems as clear of an instruction as any. So you do—scooting forward, you start to draw flowers into the thick bands of pink lettering, and soon they’re shifting to music notes, percussion notation, aimless squiggles. Takuma queues up a laid-back playlist with a few artists you recognize and many more you don’t, and you pass the pen back and forth, adding tiny notes to messages around the ramp, doodling in the empty space.

You’ve been on dates before, but this feels wholly different. With Takuma, you’re not stressing over conversation starters, worrying about commitment, wondering if you picked the right outfit, trying to gauge your shared interests with carefully planned questions. It’s just easy, existing with him like this.

After a while, you’re on your back in the mess of pillows and blankets, staring directly up at the massive painting of a skateboard with a face. Takuma is drawing something on the wall behind you.

Squinting, the green streaks under the skateboard look like that loss meme Toge sends you at least twice a week. You take a photo with the intention of showing it to him later, though maybe you shouldn’t—he gets way too proud of himself for versing you in what he calls Reddit culture.

You crane your neck to see what Takuma’s drawing and find the thick, dark strokes of a city skyline, towers and domes and boxy apartment buildings.

“Artsy,” you tell him, smiling when he appears in your line of vision upside-down. “You sure about this computer science thing? You’re too creative.”

“That’s what my mom said,” he chuckles, capping the Sharpie and sitting down beside you. As you sit up, he leans back on his hands and glances over at you. “I told her about you. She’d love you. I mean, I’m pretty sure she already does.” He hesitates. “Is that weird? Too soon?”

“No,” you grin. “I—that’s really sweet, actually. I would love to meet your mom.” Your gaze softens at the relieved smile that crosses his face. “Gotta thank her for raising a guy like you, anyway.”

You realize you want Takuma to meet your family too—you want to show him all the corners of your too-small town, show him the place you grew up. It made you who you are—it led you here, to him, after all.

“So,” you say, tilting your head. “When you say you wanna be a producer. Where do you mean? Like, LA?”

He shrugs. “Probably. But I’m sure it’s more competitive there than anywhere else. I feel like the major hubs are there and New York, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter, either.” He loops an arm around you, and your head finds its way to his shoulder. “What about you, world-class journalist?”

You grin, thinking of all the places you haven’t been, all the places you want to go. “Anywhere and everywhere. I just wanna see it all. I wanna travel.”

“You should!” He sounds genuinely excited about the concept, and you lift your head, taking in the expression on his face—he looks the way he did when he was talking about making an EP, like the world is full of possibilities and he wants to see them all play out. “You’d be so good at it. Being a travel writer or international correspondent or whatever.” He clears his throat. “I read some of your stuff, y’know.”

“What?” Suddenly you’re racking your brain for every piece you’ve published in the JU Journal, overly critical of your own work in hindsight. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s good. Really good, Skip, seriously.” He reaches out and tugs a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, and you find yourself leaning into the contact.

You aren’t sure what to say, so you settle on a soft, “Thank you.” Somehow, the idea of Takuma going out of his way to read your work feels personal on the same level that writing a song together does. Taking in your words, your ideas, internalizing them. What is intimacy if not that intellectual exchange?

“I think you’re going to be a really good producer.” It’s his turn to blush. “I mean it. Not everyone has the perspective for it, or the ear. But you do.”

“Ah, well, I—”

“Am not good at taking compliments?” you cut him off, raising a brow. “Mm, we’ll fix that.” He laughs, and you’re leaning in to kiss him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is the most natural thing in the world.

It’s late October, and you are not the least bit cold.

—

Your hands need to stop sweating before you lose a drumstick or something.

Shibuya Incident has about twenty minutes before you’re all due on stage for the finals, and The Fix is alive with students and lights and drinks and music and chatter. You’re out on the floor tonight, off to the side for easy access to the stage once Black Flash clears out.

“We’re kicking off with the reigning champions of the Battle of the Bands,” Panda booms, throwing an arm out as the band takes the stage. “You know ‘em, you love ‘em, they’re every genre and no genre, covers and originals, brass and wind. Give it up for Black Flash!”

You whoop just as loud as anyone else here, grinning at Nobara’s animated cheering from closer to the center of the floor. Miwa walks right up to the mic and takes it off the stand, the neck of her white electric in her other hand. “Hey, folks!” She brushes her bright blue hair out of her face and shouts, “Y’all ready to hear some good music?”

She has the sort of infectious enthusiasm that could work on pretty much anyone, and before you know it you and Kirara are spinning each other around to the beat of a synth-heavy pop song that sounds like it came straight out of the 80s. The instrumentals are simple but tight, and Miwa jumps around, engaging the crowd, belting like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“They’re good,” you catch Megumi saying lowly, probably to Yuji, but Takuma’s the one who answers.

“If I tell you the power of friendship will lead us to victory—”

“No.”

“Well, okay, you’re no fun.”

Kirara turns around and plants a hand on her hip, looking at Megumi. “Fushiguro, we’re fine. We’re going out with a badass new single and not one but two percussionists. We’ve never sounded this good.”

“Just being the token pessimist,” he sighs, cracking a reluctant half-smile. “I know we’re good.”

Yuji elbows him playfully. “Mr. Realist.”

Black Flash segues into a second track, an ABBA cover that has you dancing without thinking, and Takuma catches your eye and grins, moving along with you. And all too soon it’s over, a third song come and gone, and Panda’s back up on stage and the five of you are hopping up over the side to make your way to your places. Hakari and another tech have already swapped out the kits, and you settle yourself in the comfort of your own throne, your own pedals, flipping on the snare and pounding the kick a few times.

Yuji’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning at you. “You got this,” he mouths, shaking his tambourine at you.

You truly have no idea where he got a tambourine.

“What happened in Shibuya? Who the hell knows?” Panda shouts, riling up the crowd. “Give it up for Shibuya Incident!”

That’s your cue. You look at Kirara, who nods with a conspiratorial smile, and then Megumi, who plucks out a few notes in answer. Yuji’s already giving you a grin and a thumbs-up. And Takuma… he’s already stepped into his on-stage confidence, all relaxed, easygoing performer, and the look he gives you has energy coursing through your fingertips like an electric shock.

You hold your sticks above your head, clicking them loud on the lower end of the shaft, and shout, “One, two, three, four!”

You are alive.

The first track is another pulled from their EP, and you’ve listened to it probably an embarrassing number of times—you know Yuji’s part down to the sixteenth note, the roll, the rest, but you don’t hesitate to put your own spin on it, and he’s alight with the same energy beside you, messing around with a tambourine and a few other aux instruments near a mic of his own, since he’s also doing backup vocals tonight.

Your hands are moving fast, your feet pumping the pedals of their own accord, an instinct, and it’s over before you know it, a sheen of sweat already forming under the stage lights. You grin, catching your breath, wiping your hands on your jeans as Takuma introduces the band.

From your place near the back of the stage, you get more of the low feedback than anything else, but you definitely hear when he says Shibuya Incident and the crowd responds raucously in kind.

“That’s Kirara Hoshi on guitar and vocals,” he says, pointing to her as she does her little riff.

“Yeah, Kira!” You have no idea where Hakari’s voice is coming from, but it’s unmistakable.

“We got Fushiguro back there on the bass,” Takuma continues, and Megumi gives the crowd an unbothered nod, showing off his own instrument for a moment. “Itadori’s back here on aux and vocals.” He pauses to let the crowd shout for Yuji and then adds, “And filling in for him on kit, we’ve got the legendary drummer from Cursed Technique. Everyone give it up for Skipper!”

You do a quick roll, laughing as your own band goes crazy—you can’t see them in the glare of the lights, but you (and everyone else) can definitely hear them.

“I’m Ino, we’re Shibuya Incident, and this next one’s gonna slow things down a little.”

This one starts with Megumi, a laid-back track with a similar vibe to the first song you ever heard Shibuya Incident perform, but a little smoother. It’s over before you know it, and then you and Kirara are launching into the new single. Even Yuji looks like he’s having the time of life on backup vocals.

“On my own,” he and Kirara harmonize, Takuma taking the lead, and you nail the next two lines with punchy cymbal-tom hits, “all the shadows look like a death threat, everybody’s waitin’ to get hit, it’s like I’m going (going) going (going) out of my mind!”

All your worries melt away as the beat drives your movements. You’re not thinking about dropping a drumstick, missing a measure, losing the competition. You’re doing what you love with people you love, and that’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.

“Think I’m seein’ double in one eye, startin’ to think this air is spiked, no one told me that’s what love is like.” Takuma lets the guitar hang and grips the mic in one hand and the stand in the other, leaning with it as he engages the crowd, and you definitely hear Nobara screaming. “You got me going (going) going (going) out of my mind, yeah, yeah.”

It’s over so fast you can barely breathe, and you’re laughing before you know what’s happening, Yuji throwing his arm around you and shouting, “You killed it!”

Takuma turns around and locks eyes with you, and you see that same adrenaline high in his gaze that you know is in yours, and when the band stumbles off stage in Panda’s wake, he grabs your hand and pulls you into a hug. “That was crazy!” he practically shouts, which is probably good, because your ears are ringing so much you probably wouldn’t have heard him otherwise.

“Guys,” Megumi says, deadpan as always, but you can see the effects of the performance even on him, his usually stoic expression unable to mask his own excitement. “I think… we might have a shot.”

“Holy shit,” Kirara says. “Skip, write the story. Resident pessimist breaks vow of negativity—”

“Oh, shut up.” Megumi elbows her as she dissolves into laughter. In the wings, you can hear the indistinct sounds of Panda’s instructions as he starts voting, and music kicks up over the speakers. Ten minutes. Ten minutes.

It’s the longest and shortest wait of your life, and then you’re back on stage with Black Flash and Panda, and it’s fucking time.

You wonder if everyone else can hear your blood roaring, too.

“Once again, an insanely tight vote,” Panda says, a hush falling over the crowd as they wait for the verdict. “Phenomenal performances from both of our final bands, but someone’s gotta win. Give it up for the champions of this year’s Battle of the Bands…”

You imagine Maki hissing under her breath for Panda to hurry it up, Nobara’s hands clasped together as she anxiously bounces on the balls of her feet, Yuta biting his lip and trying to get Toge to shut up.

Takuma’s hand is on your shoulder, Yuji on your other side, Megumi and Kirara behind you. You glance at Miwa, and she gives you a knowing look that you can’t interpret.

You almost don’t hear it.

“SHIBUYA INCIDENT!”

You don’t know which screams belong to who—maybe one of them’s yours—but you’re swept into a massive pile of musicians drunk off victory, and you’re laughing, and Miwa’s jumping up and down and saying how that was insane, guys, you were amazing, and even Mai nods at you in congratulations, and Yuji is abruptly on Todo’s shoulders, and as the stage lights turn down a bit you finally catch sight of your own band, losing their minds on the floor.

“That’s our girl!” Maki hollers, and Yuta whoops as Toge pumps a fist in the air. You realize you can’t see Nobara, and two seconds later your questions are answered when she somehow materializes on the stage, launching herself at you with a massive grin on her face.

“You did it!” she shouts. “Holy shit, Skipper!”

Everything around you is chaos and laughter and noise, but something in the center of your being is incredibly still, and you think maybe it’s contentment. In this moment, you would ask for nothing else. It is perfect.

Nobara detaches herself from you after more profuse congratulations, turning to Miwa, and the bands make their way gradually off stage. Takuma’s hand is in yours—you don’t know when that happened—and he pulls you past the band, past the wings, all the way into the drum storage room backstage.

“That was fucking amazing,” he says. “You’re fucking amazing.” His beanie is off, tucked into his pocket, his hair as wild as his eyes as wild as your heart.

You close the door.

It’s a pulse. That’s the only way you can describe it, the rush of living energy that comes with kissing Takuma Ino behind the stage of a shitty campus bar, the heat shooting through your veins in time with the throb of the bass from distant speakers. Breath on your teeth and hands in your hair, the warmth in your gut from skin-on-skin proximity, ears ringing with the sound of your name on his lips and love-blind eyes, you’re alive and addicted to a feeling you know you’ll chase forever.

—

TWO MONTHS LATER. DECEMBER 19.

The house is alive with laughter and chatter and Michael Bublé’s Christmas album spinning from the record player. The semester is over, and tomorrow you’ll scatter for winter break, home for the holidays. Nobara insisted on throwing a party before all the inevitable road trips and flights, and the main floor is strung with multicolored lights and tinsel—Yuta’s plant, Rika, even has a tiny Santa hat on.

In addition to the actual residents of the house, Takuma and the band are here, as well as Hakari, Panda, Tsumiki, Miwa, and a handful of other friends. Megumi’s even brought the dogs, who have both taken a liking to the loveseat by the window and claimed it as their own. You’ve informed Megumi that they’re going to stay here with you forever (he said no, but you don’t take orders from him).

“Okay, I’m dropping you off at ten, right?” Yuta quadruple-checks. You’re huddled in the kitchen with him and Maki—Toge was here a minute ago, but he heard someone in the living room mention Just Dance and ran off to assert his dominance or whatever.

“Oh my god, yes,” Maki answers for you. “Yuta. You wrote it down. It’s in your calendar. You live in the same house as Skip, you’re not gonna forget.” She bumps her shoulder with his and he sighs in admission.

“I know.” He smiles at you. “Just gotta make sure she gets home for the holidays. Can’t have you turning into a sad Christmas cliché on us, Skip.”

You salute him with half a gingerbread cookie. “Appreciate it.” He’s taking you to the airport tomorrow for your flight home and refuses to take your gas money, so you’re already planning on beating him to paying for the first grocery run when you get back.

“Things with Mai are good?” you ask, glancing at Maki. She shrugs noncommittally but doesn’t correct you, which is a good sign. She and her sister met up the week after the Battle of the Bands for coffee, which you genuinely thought was a joke when she told you about it. They’re both going home for Christmas and have apparently decided to try and like each other a little more openly. And she actually showed up tonight, which you have to admit you weren’t entirely expecting.

“Yuta!” Toge hollers from the other room. “You have to come do Rasputin with me!”

Yuta groans, looking pleadingly at Maki like she can get him out of this, but she just grins. “You heard him.”

“You hate me.”

“Yeah,” Maki says fondly. Yuta, defeated, goes to join Toge in the dance of death. Maki whispers to you that she’s going to record it for blackmail and slips out after him.

Tsumiki appears beside you, drink in hand, and leans against the wall. She tilts her phone screen toward you and you see it’s the Journal website analytics.

The top story right now is yours. You grin. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize.”

“I expected it,” she admits, tucking her phone back in her pocket and gazing out across the room. “Look, I’ve been meaning to tell you. We won’t start the application process until spring sem, but, if you want it,” she glances at you, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I really think you should apply for editor-in-chief, Skip.”

Your mouth opens and closes without anything of use coming out, and Tsumiki laughs. “You don’t have to, but—”

“No!” you blurt, grinning. “I—I want to. I would love to. I was planning on it. I just didn’t know you… wanted me to.” Kusakabe’s just the advisor—when it comes to actually hiring the next editor, Tsumiki has the final say. Her endorsement is as good as a job offer. “I… thank you, Tsumiki.” You look down, suddenly overwhelmed by the words. “Big shoes to fill.”

“Aw, none of that,” she says, stealing a cookie from the tray on the counter next to you. “I literally can’t think of anyone better.” With a wink, she disappears through the doorway, where Kirara and Nobara are talking animatedly. Nobara gestures to you when she catches your eye.

“Dude, our listens are shooting up!” she says, shoving her phone into your hands. Your EP dropped mid-November, six tracks recorded in the studio with Takuma and Hakari, and you’ve performed better than you ever expected. The analytics show a sharp uptick that’s probably in large part due to Panda playing your stuff on the radio station.

You whistle, leaning on Nobara’s shoulder. “Awesome.”

Kirara leans against the wall, considering. “You guys thought about what you’re gonna do next year?”

Truthfully, you’ve really tried not to. The idea of Maki and Yuta graduating is so bittersweet. But graduation means Shibuya Incident will have a hole in their band, too. Kirara will be gone.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Nobara muses. “We could join forces. If we lose Maki and Yuta and Kirara, the only thing we’re doubled up on is drums and lead.”

It’s not a bad idea. And if Yuji is track captain next year and you get that editor job, neither of you will have as much time for the band—switching off could actually be very helpful. You hum, considering. You’ll have to talk to the others.

“Oi,” Kirara says, reaching out to poke you with a socked foot. “Your boyfriend’s in lost puppy mode over there.” You glance into the living room to see Takuma scanning the room next to Megumi and the dogs, probably looking for you.

“Dumbass,” you say fondly, and nod goodbye to Nobara and Kirara before making your way over to him. The boys are halfway through Rasputin and Yuta is, much to Toge’s chagrin, kicking ass. Toge looks like he’s just run a half marathon.

Takuma lights up when he sees you, a mischievous smile appearing on his face as he intercepts you by the hall entrance.

“Oh, wow, what is that?” he asks cheekily, and tilts your chin up to see a piece of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. That was definitely Nobara’s doing. “Crazy that we just happened to—”

You cut him off, dragging him in by the shirt and kissing him, and makes a surprised sound that has you smiling against his lips.

“Crazy,” you repeat after you pull back, relishing the flush on his cheeks. Even after dating him for two months (as of today), every reaction you get out of Takuma makes your heart rate bump up a few beats. “Oh!” he says, suddenly remembering something. “Wait, c’mere, I have something for you.”

“Takuma!” You swat at him. “I told you not to—”

“Boo hoo,” he says, sticking his tongue out and dragging you toward your room, where he dumped his stuff earlier. You quietly close the door behind you as Takuma digs around his bag, standing up with his hands behind his back. “It’s Christmas and it’s been two months. You have no defense. Close your eyes.”

You do, giggling a little as he grabs your hand and presses something into it—something soft. “Okay,” he says, and you open your eyes to see a little stuffed penguin perched in the palm of your hand. It’s fucking adorable.

“Oh my god!” you cry. “Oh, he’s so cute! Takuma.” You cradle the penguin to your chest with both hands, grinning.

“It’s you!” he says, laughing. “Not official Madagascar merch, but I thought it was pretty cute. Your own lil’ Skipper.”

“I love it,” you say, making the penguin do a little dance in the air. You grab its tiny wing and poke Takuma on the nose with it. “Thank you.”

“Merry early Christmas.” His nose scrunches up a little in thought. “Early Merry Christmas? What’s the right way to say that?”

“Happy early nondenominational holiday of your choice,” you say teasingly, because the public university won’t actually say Christmas despite the decorations all around campus.

It’s a running joke among the entirety of the student body that the massive tree in the arts lobby is not a Christmas tree but a secular modern art installation. There are variations of insane alternate tree names on the school meme accounts. The knockoff JU Barstool page even got in on it, and the student groups hosting the Hanukkah and Kwanzaa celebrations.

Takuma’s answering laugh is bright and it follows you as you cross the room to your desk, pulling a box out of the second drawer. “Your turn.”

“What?” He has the audacity to look confused. “Skip—”

You hold up the penguin. “Objection denied!” The box is light and square, and you watch excitedly as he opens it.

“Oh my god,” he says when he realizes what’s inside. “No way. These are the exact ones—how did you even—?”

You had to do some investigating to figure out the precise guitar strings he uses, but what's your journalism degree for if not this?

“Who knows?” You shrug playfully. “Maybe it’s the psychic powers, maybe it’s the housemate I begged to sneak into your room and find out.”

Kirara was more than willing. “Good thing you came to me and not Itadori,” she laughed. “That kid can’t be subtle to save his life.” Takuma’s strings have been on the brink for a while, and you’re honestly shocked none of them have given out yet.

“They’re perfect,” Takuma laughs, setting the box back on your desk. “I love them. I love you.”

He says it so easily it takes you a moment to realize what just happened. He freezes, mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know what words he’s looking for.

“I—uh,” he says eloquently. “It’s—I mean. I didn’t mean to—I mean, I didn’t mean to say it like that but I did mean it, you don’t have to say it back, if it’s too soon or you—”

Instead of cutting him off verbally, you grab him by the shoulders and press your lips to his. His eyes are wide when you pull back, despite the way he relaxed into the kiss on instinct.

“Hey,” you laugh, one hand trailing up to the back of his neck. “I love you, too.”

The excited smile that spreads across his face is slow and hesitant, like he can’t believe you reciprocate. You pull him back in and feel his grin against your lips, his hands coming to rest at your waist, warm.

“Thank god,” he murmurs between breaths. “Because I keep almost accidentally saying it, and it was gonna happen sooner or later.”

“Least it didn’t happen over the phone,” you grin, your hand skating down his arm and coming to rest in his.

Sheepishly, he admits, “Almost did. Yesterday.” Your laugh is bright and so is his answering one, and you perch your little stuffed penguin atop the guitar strings and tug Takuma toward the door.

“Okay, lover boy. Back to the outside world.”

“Lover boy, huh?” he teases. “Kay, pretty girl.”

“Couple of cheesy ass romantics we are.”

“Mm.” He presses a kiss to your temple, the action so casual and unthinking you want to melt. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The second you step back into the living room, Yuta grabs you by the elbow and presses a Wii remote into your hand.

“Oh, no. Yuta—”

The song’s been chosen for you, and Toge has passed the remote to Maki, who looks like she’d rather die than give a rousing performance of TiK ToK by Ke$ha.

“Well, at least it’s you,” she says. Toge tries to discreetly pull his phone out, but Maki gives him a death glare that could send a grown man to his grave. He nearly drops it in his hurry to shove it back into his pocket.

You snort, patting Maki sympathetically on the shoulder. “Let’s kick ass.”

Three hours later, everyone has somewhat settled down, sprawled across furniture and countertops and the carpeted floor. Yuta’s grabbed an acoustic from the basement and it’s being passed around, goofy Christmas songs overlapping with the still-spinning record player.

You enrolled here with the intention of building a new life, finding a new purpose—new faces, new music, a new place to call home. And you feel like you’ve found it. This is the point of college. You’re surrounded by the best people you’ve ever known, and your heart is practically overflowing with how much you fucking love them all.

After all, your heart is not a finite thing. You’ve just got an endless supply of affection, and you’re not scared of it.

Love is the right word, you think, letting your head fall onto Takuma’s shoulders, legs tucked up beneath you on the couch.

“I love you,” you whisper, just to say it. When he whispers your name, your real name, in the shell of your ear, something in your chest sparks a little. He makes it sound like a song.

“I love you, too.”

directory | prev.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32 @gojodickbig @stargazing-with-choso @anonymity-222 @honeyyhuggs

a/n: that’s a wrap on out of my mind! ahh! i loved this one a lot, and it has so much spinoff potential i’m going a little crazy with it—keep an eye out for the megumi spinoff dropping soon. if you want to be alerted when it drops, lmk and i’ll put you on the jjk taglist. also, greta wrote a sukuna spinoff here—go read!

@bitchkay i need you to know your reblog tags give me life and you were fucking RIGHT ON THE MONEY with these developments

i’m not sure if i’ll start writing other fandoms or not—if y’all would want to see attack on titan or blue lock do let me know!

[reaganwnicole]

Addressing Addiction (Wicked)

After watching Wicked three times in theatres I think I am now safe to say I have a problem. This movie has actually ruined my life.

Before I even address the reasons why, I need to confess that half of my waking thoughts are spent thinking about Wicked. I smile to myself just thinking about it. My TikTok has been completely taken over, the songs are always in my head, and I can't even look at anything remotely resembling pink or green without saying "this is so Wicked" out loud. I genuinely cannot state my love for this movie enough.

Skipping over the obvious: Cynthia Erivo, Ariana Grande, and literally everybody else were the perfect picks for this movie and I refuse to hear anybody else's fan castings out. Every time I see somebody hate Ms. Grande and say "It should've been Dove Cameron or Amanda Seyfried" I die a little inside. Which of y'all really give a fuck about Dove Cameron? And Amanda Seyfried, I love you queen, you have had your moment. Sorry that Les Mis did you dirty. Jeff Goldblum, I can admit I was confused at first but, If he is 72 and is still that limber, then he deserved it (and he delivered). Even Ethan Slater has almost convinced me to believe he is a real prize. Lastly, Fieryo being played by Jonathan Bailey was the most perfect pick of them all. Fieryo needs a gay flamboyant man to play him and nobody else, and I fully stand by the fact that only Jonathan Bailey could bring so much sexuality to him the way that he did. You could make him flirt with a literal rock and it would be the most beautiful, playful, romantic thing you've ever witnessed.

The only negative thing I can say about this movie is the inability of people to act normal while watching it. Maybe every time I've seen it somebody is acting a fool singing, talking, and way too many gasps but I have never been so gagged by a movie that I do not even care like I have this one. Also, every single time I've watched this movie I never fail to think the ensemble talking is somebody behind me being the worst person ever. But no, they really just ate it up that much.

Right from the beginning "No One Mourns The Wicked" has almost brought tears to my eyes every time I watch it in its entirety. I knew Ariana Grande and her infamous whistle notes but holy shit. It's so good I can completely ignore her "blackiana" phase. Maybe I'm biased as my love for Ariana Grande stems back to third grade, but I'm even more of a fan now. When I saw it for the third time and my friend was underwhelmed I took it personally and felt as though my heart had been split in half. "Defying Gravity" has never failed to get me so fucking pumped. This is definitely how millennials felt with each new Harry Potter movie, and I'm thankful I can finally tap in and ride that high.

Overall, the movie was so good half of the cash grab merch has almost gotten me. The seven reprises of "Defying Gravity" never fail to excite me. My Tumblr is now entirely gay Wicked fan art. The only thing I can find that could make this movie better is if they share a little kiss at the end of Act 2.

[kathlare]

the heart's echo

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando spends time with his best friend, Max, at a MotoGP event, where Max notices Lando’s lingering attachment to Amelie through her social media posts. A candid conversation reveals Lando's unresolved feelings for her, despite the time that's passed and their complicated history.

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Warnings: just fluff

request over here!

August 6th, 2023 - Northamptonshire, United Kingdom

The warm British summer air was buzzing with energy, filled with the hum of engines revving and the chatter of excited fans at Silverstone’s MotoGP weekend. Lando Norris had been attending the event with his best friend, Max Fewtrell, who had been as much a part of Lando's racing journey as anyone else. Max was a solid rock in his life—honest, blunt, and always willing to poke fun when the situation called for it.

They were sitting in a VIP lounge, watching the pre-race activities unfold, when Max caught a glimpse of Lando's phone screen. Lando didn’t notice at first, too distracted by the noise in the room, the chatter of other people, and his own wandering thoughts. But Max did. And what he saw wasn’t the usual stream of racing news or memes.

It was Amelie.

Her Instagram feed was front and center, the familiar sight of her vibrant posts catching Lando’s eye. He was scrolling through her latest photos from her concerts. Each post was meticulously curated—an artist’s passion reflected in every image. But Lando wasn’t just scrolling through her feed out of idle curiosity. There was something more there, a quiet ache behind his eyes as he tapped through every post.

Max raised an eyebrow, leaning over to peer at Lando’s screen. —Mate,— he said with a smirk, —are you actually stalking her right now?—

Lando froze, his thumb pausing mid-scroll. He looked at Max, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his lips. —No. Just… just looking at her posts. They’re, you know, everywhere. She’s doing well.—

Max leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. —Sure. Whatever you say, mate.— He leaned in closer, his voice dropping in mock seriousness, —Is this the part where you tell me you’ve totally moved on?—

Lando sighed, rolling his eyes as he stuffed his phone into his pocket. —Stop, Max.—

—Mate, come on, I know you better than that,— Max teased, nudging Lando with his shoulder. —You’re still hung up on her, aren’t you?—

Lando opened his mouth to deny it but stopped himself. The truth hung in the air like a thick fog, and for the first time in a long while, Lando let himself admit it. —Yeah… I guess I am.—

Max didn’t hesitate. —You’re still in love with her, Lando.—

The words hit harder than Lando had expected. He’d been running from the thought for months, burying it under the distractions of racing, relationships, and whatever bullshit he could get lost in. But hearing it out loud—he couldn’t deny it. There it was.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. —I don’t know, Max. I mean... it’s been a fucking long time. We haven’t talked in over a year.—

Max leaned back, considering it for a moment. —So? Does that mean you just forget everything? You and Amelie were good, mate. I’ve seen it myself. Even after all the drama, I don’t think you’ve really moved on. But you’ve been pretending to.—

Lando’s throat tightened. He didn’t want to think about it, but Max was right. He’d buried that part of himself, pretending it didn’t matter while casually seeing Magui Corceiro. Sure, it was easy, no strings attached. But every time he saw Amelie’s face—every time he saw how happy she was, living her dream—it felt like a punch to the gut.

—Why did you have to go and bring her up again?— Lando muttered, his voice quieter now, as if he were speaking more to himself than Max.

—Because it’s obvious, mate,— Max replied. —You’re still carrying a torch for her. I know you, Lando.—

Lando leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen in front of him, the lights and sounds of Silverstone almost blurring into the background. He didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t want to feel it. But he was getting tired of pretending.

—I don’t know how I’m supposed to fix it, Max. I messed up. I fucked everything up when we were together. It wasn’t just the distance or the fact that I got caught up with other people... it was me. I was stupid. And now... now, she’s living her dream. She’s got everything she ever wanted. And I’m still sitting here, like a dumbass, thinking about what could’ve been.—

Max’s tone shifted, no longer teasing but serious. —Maybe it’s not too late, Lando. Maybe you need to stop pretending and go for it. Go fix things with her. You’re the one holding back. You keep telling yourself she’s moved on, that she doesn’t care anymore. But you don’t know that. You haven’t even tried.—

Lando ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in his eyes. —Max, I’m not some fucking idiot. You don’t know her like I do. You don’t know what we’ve been through. I don’t think she’s gonna want to even look at me after everything that happened. It’s been too long, too much time has passed.—

—You’re right,— Max said, his voice softening. —It’s been a while. But does that mean you should just give up? Because, let me tell you something, Lando. If you don’t do something about this, if you keep pretending it doesn’t matter... you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.—

Lando swallowed hard, a knot tightening in his stomach. It was hard to admit, but Max was right. There was a part of him that had always believed they’d find a way back to each other. But it felt like an impossible dream now. Amelie had moved on. Hell, he’d moved on. Sort of.

—I’m not sure, man. I’m pretty fucking sure that if I went to her now and told her I wanted to try again, she’d just laugh in my face,— Lando said, the bitterness creeping into his words. —She’s got a life now. She’s got everything she ever wanted. And I’ve got... what? A situationship with someone I don’t even care about? Yeah. That sounds great.—

Max leaned forward, looking at Lando with a serious expression. —Mate, you’ve got to stop making excuses. You know how much she cared about you. And if you still care about her, then you’ve got to give it a shot. You’ll never know unless you try.—

Lando’s chest felt tight, the weight of Max’s words sitting heavily on him. Was he really ready to face that? To confront his past mistakes and ask Amelie for a second chance? Or would she just reject him? Laugh at him?

—I don’t know,— Lando muttered, more to himself than to Max. —I don’t think I can handle getting rejected again. Not by her.—

Max didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch between them. Finally, he clapped Lando on the back. —Well, mate, you’re gonna have to decide sooner or later. Because if you don’t, you’re just going to keep lying to yourself. And deep down, I think you know the truth. You still want her.—

Lando exhaled slowly, his mind spinning with all the possibilities. —Yeah. I still want her,— he whispered, the realization hitting him with full force.

Max nodded, leaning back in his chair. —Then go after her. Don’t waste any more time.—

Lando sat in silence, staring off into the distance. Max’s words echoed in his head, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to think about Amelie—not just as the girl he used to be with, but as someone he might still want in his life.

The future was uncertain. But one thing was clear: he couldn’t keep running from his feelings.

And maybe, just maybe, it was time to face them.

[wexhappyxfew]

hey shannon!!!! from prompt list 3 & the action category - “intervene” with kennedy and bucky, but kennedy is the one doing the intervening/defending him????!!! HELP - @softspeirs

KATIEEEE!!!!!! @softspeirs i am *here* i am *back* and we are here with a kennedy x bucky prompt that had me lowkey losing my mind w/this piece half-written months ago and me now just finally having the time to finish it up. the pure EXCITEMENT of this prompt with kennedy and bucky, kennedy's reactions, bucky's reactions and their dialogue....oh i was absolutely losing it. definitely one of my longer ones i think, but it came out just as i was hoping (and probably better). also the scene inspo for this hit me even before your prompt and when you sent this in - oh i was SO EXCITED. so i sincerely hope you enjoy!!! :D

flak-happy

(a/n): kennedy x bucky (pre-stalag, pre-anything-that-happened-in-the-stalag lmao). i fear we enter bucky: the definition of yearning, and kennedy: the definition of miss-repressed-emotions and oh boy does it make for the absolutely perfect combination, especially in a moment of time where things are turning rather dark and dreary and sad. oh kennedy farley you are so seen!!!! please enjoy my-return installment in the silver bullets universe!!! <3333 (he'll make it up to her, he swears)

"5-0," Kennedy said quietly, the tiny bit of newspaper in her hands something she was half-way between scorning, ripping into a million pieces, and lighting on fire, "they're trying to kill me."

"It's a baseball team, Kenny," Margie said from beside her, "the only thing actually trying to kill you are the Germans."

"But I have a helluva lot more emotional involvement to this team than the Krauts, Margie, that's the difference." Kennedy said, flipping the paper over and grumbling under her breath, "Fucking Danny Doyle - at this point, just say he's in left field 24/7, even when he's actually in left field. Can't even hit the goddamn ball."

"Okay," Vivian Ratcliff said quietly from beside Kennedy, plucking the newspaper clipping that Lieutenant Montez had gotten for her this morning from her fingers and neatly folding it up, "you need a drink. A stiff one at that." Kennedy sighed and crossed her arms between the two as they continued walking forward towards the flying club and bit back her lip.

"And I'm going to have to hear all about how the Yankees won their game," Kennedy mumbled, "please say we can open a tab?"

"Or!" Margie butted in, "Better yet, someone will already have a tab started for us." Kennedy glanced at Margie, gaze burning into the side of Vivian's head, who was currently running a hand through her short, dark curls in the hand-held mirror she was carrying with her.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Kennedy asked her and Margie chuckled.

"Ev Blakely." Margie offered with a grin, "He's always putting his ViVi on his tab."

"Oh, screw off, Margie." murmured Vivian, brushing her bangs that lay wilted against her forehead, back a bit - the entirely noticeable blush that had sprung across the waist gunners cheeks and the smile poking at her lips evidently hard to ignore.

"I am not, and I repeat, not his 'ViVi', he's just a sweet thing, a gentleman," Vivian offered with a shrug of her shoulders, wiping at a smudge of her red lipstick at the corner of her mouth gently, "honestly." Margie chuckled as Kennedy sent her a glance.

"Whatever you say, Viv, but he's a real charmer that Ev Blakely," Margie said, grinning, "especially that you're ViVi to him, hm?" A small smile quirked onto Vivian's lips as she snapped the hand-held mirror shut and slid it into her pocket and offered them a slight smile.

"Shall we head in?" she asked them with a smile and a nod before stepping inside, cheeks still flaming, "It seems like we're all in need of a stiff drink." Kennedy watched as Vivian then stepped inside, nodding and smiling to a few pilots that had stepped passed her. Slowly, Kennedy glanced towards Margie who simply smiled.

"What?" Margie said with a chuckle, "It's clear Blakely's sweet on her."

Heading inside the flying club, the atmosphere was alive with both a gentle, slow song by Ella Fitzgerald, the quiet chatter of voices still about the place and the mixture of smells which combined two of the finest things on Thorpe Abbotts - cologne and alcohol.

"Beer?" Vivian offered glancing back at both Kennedy and Margie stood in the small opening between the bar area and the dance floor.

"Yeah." Kennedy said quietly, following behind Vivian with a sparing glance towards the dance floor where Judy was, more probable, to be forcing Carrie to dance than anything it seemed.

A large group of some of the pilots had gathered in front of the wooden bar, a few backs turned their way, with a few pairs of wandering eyes meeting her own. At the moment, she made rather quick and inherent eye contact with Bucky Egan. Who was staring down Colonel Harding in front of him.

Kennedy glanced at Margie and Vivian, who sent her sparing looks as she stepped closer, curious to both listen in and figure out why the look in Bucky's eyes made her stomach twist.

"Now-now who's flak happy?' Bucky asked, leaned up against the bar, a morose look drawn on to his features, eyes peering into Colonel Harding's persistent and demanding. Kennedy stepped closer, her eyes looking to Colonel Harding's face - it was a mixture of sadness, grief and evidently being somewhat drunk, but it was somewhat a sorry sight.

"Who?" Colonel Harding seemed to challenge.

"You are." Bucky said with a nod, his eyes frozen on the Colonel's gaze. There was something slightly unsettling in that split second of time - this almost far-too-large group surrounding a somewhat bitter conversation. Flak-happy; what a word. Enough to stir thoughts of death in all of them. How much it surrounded them, consumed them. Buck's half-crescent glance towards Bucky was enough for Kennedy to catch Buck's gaze and see the unfurling repent growing.

"You are." the Colonel said firmly back.

"No, you are," Bucky said, before giving a quick tap of the back of his hand on the Colonel's front pocket, "sir."

For a moment, the low drone of the music seemed to dim to a distant hum as they all stood there, eyes darting back and forth, waiting to see the reaction of the Colonel, to someone like Bucky. Notorious for his outbursts at this point, it seemed.

Kennedy watched for a moment longer, before she bit the bullet and stepped forward, directly placing herself in front of Bucky and looking right up at the Colonel, hands placed behind her back, heart pounding in her ears, praying to God above that she didn't look a fool in this moment. Whatever conversation it had been, friendly or foe or whatever other words could've been tossed around - she was having none of it.

This was for Captain Dye, to celebrate 25 missions, for people to relax a bit. Not to think about what tomorrow or the coming days could bring.

Then, the Colonel began to laugh, eyes not fully connected to the bright laughter from his lips, reaching up to place his cigar to his alcohol-laced lips. Kennedy mimicked her best impression of a laugh that she could muster in this moment without feeling in-genuine and watched as the Colonel's eyes brightened a bit.

"Good to see you, Sergeant Farley." he said and she nodded, saluting as well.

"And you, Colonel." she said and he grinned, before turning away and pointing to the guys - 'Single fillies!' he began to yell and point, people clambering and murmuring amongst one another as the rather large group began to slowly disperse.

She watched, predictable as it was, Blakely saunter up to Viv and Margie seemed to drop to her knees immediately at the sight of a tail-wagging Meatball.

In the midst of this all, Kennedy seemed to only just remember now that she had stepped between the Colonel and Bucky in this very moment and that very same Bucky Egan was now stood just behind her.

And if anything, she knew he had a shit-eating grin on his face and would poke fun at her little heroic moment of relief. She really didn't know what had compelled her to do such a thing - to step in between people that had far higher ranking than she probably ever would. But there was something on his face, that look in his eyes. Like he was distant, in a completely different time zone and realm than where he actually was.

And she couldn't remember a time when Bucky had ever looked like that.

Kennedy found that she was bracing herself as she turned around, but by that moment, as she was turning, Bucky was already watching her. It looked like a mixture between an attempt to smile on his face, and the struggle of an onboarding cold front. And her heart sunk a bit.

Maybe she was a bit stupid for that.

They barely knew each other past their Yankees and Red Sox feud and those few times they'd had conversations together - about what, she wasn't sure - she had spent the greater part of the time noticing every bit about how his eyes lit when he laughed, the crinkle of his grin, the pure sound of his voice.

For what reason she was stockpiling those images and feelings in her brain, she'd never know.

But, standing here now, it felt completely different.

Bucky was different.

"Hi, Farley." he said, voice more exhausted sounding than intended it seemed.

"Hi." she said back, noticing their closeness to each other and the eager smell of his cologne, taking the opportunity to step back.

Then she stared at him - she had no clue what to say.

For the first time in months, she didn't have a clue what to say to him - to explain whatever that had been, to try and chalk it up.

Yeah, she had no clue.

"You alright?" she said him, before scratching the back of her neck.

"Doing the best I can, yourself?" He was bored of this conversation already, he was done with it - say something, say something. But when she took the chance to actually go to open her mouth, she noticed his eyes were far-off, looking past her shoulder.

Slowly, she took a glance and noticed all he was staring at were the people - the couples, the duos - dancing with each other. Kennedy looked back towards Bucky again and found his eyes trained on her again.

"You dance at all, Farley?" he asked her, leaning back up against the bar, the broad stretch of his shoulders enough to fill her entire birds-eye view, enough to make her cheeks tint to annoying pink.

"I regret to inform you that it is quite possibly the last thing you want me to do."

"Really?" Bucky asked with a wry chuckle, smirking at her, "Well, isn't this new. Thought Kennedy Farley was good at damn-near everything." Kennedy looked at him an tilted her head.

"Well, I don't know whether to take that as an insult or compliment, but I'm afraid that growing up my mother put me in ballet and in turned into a complete mess of me on stage - so no, I don't." she said, crossing her arms, suddenly wanting to get herself out of this conversation as quickly as possible.

"I'm intrigued," Bucky said, tilting his head slightly and nodding to her, "tell me more. Ballet, huh?"

"It was like a chicken on a balance beam, alright? I'm sure you could've done better than me-" Bucky chuckled at her mid-sentence.

"Were you really that bad?" he asked her, "I don't believe you."

"Wouldn't be the first time." she murmured and he raised a brow, "This typically would be the time where I ask the same question back, but I've seen you dance and well….clearly know you dance so…." Bucky let out a barking laugh and hung his head for a moment before looking back up at her.

"Well, Kennedy Farley, dancing is a whole lot more than just some stupid ballet classes your Mom put you in when you were a kid, alright?" he said, pushing off from the bar counter and stepping forward. Kennedy look up at him as he stepped closer and equally stepped back.

"What are you doing?" she asked him as he stepped in front of her, managing a small smile.

"Dancing." he said, "With you."

"You can't be serious-"

"Oh, I'm serious!" he said, reaching forward to take her right hand in his, adjusting his other hand to her waist. It was honestly a mixture of feelings, intoxication and his cologne that suddenly made her feel slightly insane.

"Bucky-"

"Nah, nah, you're fine, look at you," he said as they slowly started to sway back and forth, "you're a natural." Kennedy looked up at him, feeling every inch of her hand pressed into his, his other hand on her waist.

"Well, if we're doing this, then you oughta tell me what Colonel Harding was talking about when I came up to you all." she said, watching as his eyes darted to hers and his grip tightened.

"Maybe another time." he said tilting his head to the side, to which she raised a brow.

"Oh, no, no, no, I saw that look on your face-"

"Farley-"

"Major Egan." she said, pausing and looking up at him expectantly. It seemed to work. Bucky watched her, his grip tight on her hand and pouted his lips a bit.

"The war. In the air." Bucky said quietly, tilting his head to the side, "Guess you can say it's making people go crazy."

"Quite the observation." Kennedy murmured and Bucky let out a huff, "Well, why was he addressing you. I mean….sorta front and center there-"

"He thinks it's starting to get to me." Bucky said quickly, pausing as she peered up at him again, watching his eyes under the dimmed yellow lights of the flying club.

Kennedy felt her heart stammer for a moment as she looked up at Bucky - there was still that distant look in his eye, but something else that craved and yearned for touch and connection and possibly something else she couldn't quite decipher. She believed that was all anyone in this war wanted - when the battle was done, when the flight crews were back at base, sweat and grease-stained faces, eyes hazy and glazed. All people wanted was someone else to get it, to understand them and hold them and tell them that maybe things were going to be okay.

But, with Bucky, with their separation of rank and about a million other things, she quite honestly, was at a loss for words.

"You?" she instead asked quietly. Bucky watched her, face unchanged.

"Yeah." he said quietly, almost ashamed, "A trip to London would probably do me some good, don't you think?" Kennedy watched him - he wanted this. He agreed with the Colonel. Bucky wanted this.

"If that's what you want-"

"I think the Colonel was really onto something, Farley." Bucky said, stopping her mid-sentence, "Doing those missions. Over and over. I feel like I'm going crazy." Kennedy felt like she couldn't even hear the music anymore, she didn't even realize how close they were into each other's hands and arms, she didn't even realize the tick of desperation in Bucky's voice. Like he was alone in the dark, trying to grasp onto something.

"Bucky." Kennedy said quietly, watching as he sighed and shook his head, dropping her hand, removing his, rather warm, hand from her waist and stepping back.

"Sorry." Bucky said, reaching up to run a hand through his hair before turning back to the bar and finishing what was left of his drink, before looking at her again, "I shouldn't have said a damn thing. Freak you out when you're trying to relax. I'll…" Bucky watched her and sighed, before stepping around her, "I'll see you around."

Kennedy stood there, the flash of his body disappearing from in front of her, the hint of sweat, beer and cologne trailing as she turned to look over her shoulder and found him moving right out of the room.

Kennedy's heart was in her throat - a mixture of feelings of not knowing what Bucky would do next, especially being alone and if this was making her suddenly want to do anything she could to help him.

So, she did the only thing a Farley would do. She hurried after him. She kept her eye on his form as he hurried out and into the cool night air.

Stepping outside she looked over and found him stood at the edge of the road, against the lick of grass that spread between the barracks and looked towards the dark airfield.

"You know, it really isn't the nicest thing to leave a girl hanging on the dance floor," Kennedy started, walking towards him, a slight smile on her face, "especially if she just told you how much she really didn't like dancing." She tried to joke about it, but she just watched Bucky's shoulders drop the slightest bit instead as he ran his hand again over his hair to hang on his neck.

"Sorry, Farley," Bucky said quietly, "I just, I don't want to rope you into this, right now." Bucky said, motioning to himself. Kennedy raised a brow.

"Rope into what, Bucky, I'm right here." Kennedy said watching his back and crossing her arms, "Quite frankly, you just told me you think you're going crazy from it all and downed the rest of your drink. And probably are slightly buzzed. So. I will rope myself into this." Kennedy eyed the few newer airmen walking by them. "Sir." Bucky glanced over his shoulder at her and she simply stared back.

If he wanted her to be scared of this side of him, it would have to take a whole lot more for her to disappear, for her to run.

This Bucky she almost liked. Where he wasn't putting up the facade, the mask, the strong-front that showed he was fine.

Because no one was fine when their job was trying to just beat the odds and survive.

"Farley-"

"Bucky." she said and she watched as he stared at her. He grew quiet.

Slowly, she stepped closer and moved to stand there beside him. Glancing upwards, she found him, looking far off again towards the darkened tarmacs with B-17s.

There was something about standing there in damn-near total silence with him. It was so unlike any other version of the Bucky Egan she'd met, but in this moment, she hoped that this was exactly what he needed.

Someone to be there, but to stand in this silence with him.

Away from the music and the drinks and the B-17s and the bullets.

Away from it all.

All to simply realize he was alive, and on the ground and standing on his own two feet.

"To get in one of those planes again," Bucky started quietly, "I can't….it's hard. To do that. Again and again." Kennedy looked up at him, her face drawn into one of concern and worry.

"I know." she said quietly, watching his eyes as he glanced at her, "It scares me. Every time without fail. After what had happened with Birdie and then Margie those few months ago. The thought? Jesus, I didn't want to have to leave solid ground." Bucky watched her for a moment.

"You don't give off the impression that you're scared, Farley," Bucky said quietly, "always thought you were one of the strongest we got." Kennedy managed a genuine smile up at him.

"Thanks, Bucky." she said - genuinely - she figured people didn't see that often, so she could appreciate when someone like Bucky told her that. He managed a slight smile at her words.

"Would you go to London?" he asked her and she felt her face change into one of slight surprise and near-joking. She offered him a look, one where she almost burst out laughing.

"Me?" she asked him and he nodded, "No, no….probably not." She looked at him again and almost nervously laughed.

"Silver Bullets needs me. And for the moment, despite everything, I'd rather let that trip go to someone else, who needs it more." Like you, she thought quietly. She looked at him and found his face saddened a bit and offered a shoulder bump.

"Go to London. Take the trip." she said softly, "Take some time to relax." Bucky looked at her, his eyes aching to watch hers it felt as she stared at him.

In another world, she would've said she'd loved to go to London - she always heard about London as a kid; Buckingham Palace, the guards in their uniforms, the city streets, all of it. But for now, she didn't need it. She was fine.

"Well….I only asked because…" Bucky cleared his throat, "Buck sorta denied my offer and I figured, well, since you and just about everyone else also need a break, figured I'd offer to come. With me." Kennedy looked up at him, her cheeks flamed in the darkness and she hoped the fact the moon was covered by clouds, covered her obvious shyness.

"Oh." Kennedy said quietly, her eyes wanting to leave Bucky's but whole-heartedly refusing. In her mind, she told herself that he could tell something was most definitely wrong with her, with her blubbering and lack of words and shock and nervousness. But instead he offered a slight smile her way.

"I mean," she started, a small laugh escaping her lips, "you're….you're a Major, Bucky, and I'm just, I'm a Sergeant. And we're from different planes. And it'd be…I don't know, people, they'd say stuff-"

"Farley," Bucky said, "we're…..friends, ya know, it'd just be us two. As….friends." And even she wasn't convinced of his words in that moment and suddenly she felt hot all over and the thoughts in her mind were enough to force her to look away from Bucky in an instant. She looked forward again over the field of B-17s in the darkness and swallowed her shaky breaths.

"Farley, I…" Bucky started, before clearing his throat, "I just…I think I'm drunk. Just, ignore me-"

"Okay." Kennedy said quickly, looking over at him and nervously meeting his gaze with a nod, swallowing sheepishly as she looked up again to his eyes, "I-"

She really couldn't get herself to speak properly at the thought. Of Bucky. Her head felt light, her cheeks hot, her body hot, her thoughts a jumbled mess.

He was drunk, she told herself, he was drunk and wouldn't remember this and she could go back to being brazen and bold and stubborn with him.

Not this mushy, genuine and sweet part of herself that she rarely showed a soul.

Looking at Bucky, suddenly her mind went into a frenzy at the thought of the two of them, in a room together, in London - how awkward it would be!

She'd take the bed closest to the window, he'd take the one closest to the door and she'd have to hear his every breath as he fell asleep and his snores through the night.

And she'd have to wake up and he'd see her exhausted and barely awake and exceptionally grumpy.

And then he'd say something about how she reminds him of the pigeons on the streets in the city and she'd launch her shoe at him.

And then she'd feel embarrassed having to get ready and knowing he's right in the other room.

And - no, it was too much. Because what if they just happened to ignore it all and she allowed herself to feel these feelings that made her feel sick to her stomach - no. She looked away from him and suddenly wanted to be alone.

No, let him go to London - get the drinks, get the girls, and she'll keep her mouth shut.

Because he was right - they were just two people, barely even friends, who happened to know each other and have strong opinions about baseball. No, she wasn't going to say a thing.

"I'll make it up to you then someday, Farley - the dancing," Bucky said before patting her shoulder gently and letting out a low whistle, "I'm off to barracks. Figured I need to shut up before I keep letting my mouth yap, ya know?" Kennedy slowly looked over at him, sticking his hands in his pockets and giving her a wide smile - one between a forced and slightly buzzed grin and a genuine one.

"I'll let you know how London is, okay?" he said and she nodded, tying herself directly to where she was standing so she wouldn't convince herself to follow him again.

"Okay." she said and he smiled wider and then mock-saluted to her before turning away.

"I'll be seeing you, Farley." he said and as he staggered down the path, her own heart thumping inside her chest she shut her eyes and let out a breath before crossing her arms tighter across her chest.

She couldn't have said anything better? Come up with better words? A better send-off and good-bye? Should she have taken the offer?

No, no, no, no. Nope.

And with that, Kennedy turned and moved right back into the flying club and ordered as strong a drink she could get at this time of night.

[thatgirlwithasquid]

ooo okay this looks fun (and i am procrastinating like a bitch rn so...)

Hm, I'm not sure. Maybe The Naming of Hobbits by @andhumanslovedstories? It was one of the first fics I read when I got into using AO3 and I remember it giving me a good giggle. I really should go back and reread it. It must've been years since I've read it by now... And yet I still think of it fondly as 'that funny The Hobbit fic' so it clearly left a very good impression :)

So many. So many make me cry. I've reread Time Falls Away by @not-close-to-straight like three times I think? And each time the line 'I don't know this part of the story' has me UGLY SOBBING. Love it. Absolutely an amazing read. I still haven't worked my way up to the third fic in the series cause the emotions are still too strong rn, but I am very excited for whenever I finally do! I also gotta mention All Is Fair In Love by @stranger-awakening cause OH MY GOD nothing has ever hurt me like this fic hurt me. The pain. It just kept getting worse. It was so good but I needed frequent breaks when reading cause the emotions were So Much. I'm also just realising I never kudosed that fic and OMG I AM SO SORRY. I was too caught up in the throes of agony, I apologise!!

My comfort fic is definitely Petey and Wade discuss the proper way to go about vigilantism (and maybe they fall in love too) by @isadancurtisproduction. I have read that fic at least once a year since I first came across it. I love it so much, it's insane. It may even be my all time favourite fanfic

I am gonna have to say Rapture by mia_ugly on AO3. I read it out of morbid curiosity and I have not been the same since. This is the fic that introduced me to this type of time travel fics, where the time travel muddies the relationships and makes everything angsty and confusing and secretive. It is my FAVOURITE kind of angst and I have read multiple other fics with the same trope since. I adore them <3

Oh, 100% @sheena-is-a-punk-rocker. Since I read all your quinnflag fics and loved them so much I started on my own quinnflag wip. Started off thinking 'how would they have gotten together before The Suicide Squad?' like they are in your The Suicide Squad but Rick and Harley are already dating series (which is such a fun read and deserves all the love!!) and my wip has become its own thing from there :)

Lol I'm not the best authority for this since I do not read much fic for either of my main fandoms (sorry Stranger Things and The World of Mr Plant!) but I definitely think @kittyphoenix12-xx's work deserves so much more love. I need to read more of your fics, babes, cause the ones I have read are SO good. I TREASURE that cunningway fic you gifted to me, and getting to beta a couple of your works was such an honour. I especially loved the stars look down and know, cause it's so so sweet!!!

Good question... Commenting, I guess. That's the obvious answer. And I really need to work on it myself (and I'm trying!!) but we could always do with more commenting. Authors love seeing it so we need to do our part more (which is why I'm tagging the authors in this despite being a bit nervous about that lol, cause you guys deserve hearing how wonderful I think your fics are :) )

I really don't know. I don't like telling people not to do things cause I think that's just rude. Fanfic is for fun, and if you like doing something that someone else thinks there's too much of then fuck them! Have fun with it cause that's all that matters. I see people complaining about certain things from time to time and just think 'well... you could just... not?' Maybe that's what I wish there was less of in fandom: people feeling the need to make a fuss when they don't like something, cause most of the time when I see it it's over the most non-problem things.

Alternative Fic Recs

Fic recs are a great way to introduce people to stories you love. But instead of a list, you could try this format instead? I've tried it before and I really liked it, as it made me think about the fics I've read differently.

This isn't a tag game or an ask game. You can copy, repost, reblog, share and edit this at will if you're looking to do a fic rec :)

The fic that's made you laugh the most?

What's a fic that makes you cry?

Your fave comfort, silly fic?

The fic that made you try a genre or a trope you wouldn't normally read.

An author that's inspired your own fic writing (if you're an author), or your TBR list (if you're a reader).

Your fave "underdog" fics/authors in your fandom(s). Those that you feel are underappreciated and deserve some love.

What's one thing you wish writers/readers/the fandom did more of when it comes to fanfiction?

What's one thing you wish writers/readers/the fandom did less of when it comes to fanfiction?

[lanternlit]

smokedanced is now lanternlit

And with this I return, so excited to be writing again! Further changes...

I have moved Castiel and the Thirteenth Doctor here from their previous blogs (waywardfeathered/dochaes). If you were just followed, we were probably mutuals there! Hi! I plan to slowly follow everyone I had ongoing interactions with or asks I planned to reply to, on those blogs. Slowly, because I want to double check people's guidelines pages first. If you follow me back here, I plan to automatically reply to our things on this blog :)

I've rewritten my guidelines. The contents are mostly the same, but a lot has been reworded, and some minor things have been added or deleted, so it'd be awesome if you could give them a read. I guess this is technically optional, since they're mostly the same as before.

A few muses have been dropped. Kenna de Poitiers, Jeremy Bradshaw, Juliet Burke and Tyrion Lannister have been dropped as muses.

New muses have been added. Cas and Thirteen have been moved here from their previous blogs, and I have added Fifteenth Doctor as a muse. Jake, whom I added, um, nearly a year ago... finally has an about page, now, as well. You all get free shots to fire at me about how I had an OC among my muses for a year almost without any kind of an about page.

Some muses' stories have been altered. Namely, Mary Stuart is now a modern AU based muse, and I don't write her in Reign canon at least for the time being. Ella Finnegan has had her story altered, as well, basically the way her psychic abilities work have been changed. The latter will be easy to retcon in any ongoing interactions.

All muses have at least a dossier and a character premise page. This one is something I am proud of myself for, but also fuck, I got so frustrated trying to write the character premise pages that I can see it when I look at them, what with some of them having the most simple sentence structure and all, but I figured... better some information for my characters than none??? Everyone has something, now! Also, no more half the muses only having placeholder images on their pages! PRAISE THE ABSOL... I mean, my self-discipline. Because these past weeks I have just wanted to COME BACK AND WRITE, but I made myself have those tabs for all the characters first.

It is currently nearing 2am so pleaaaaase excuse me if this post is chaotic. Hi dash love you dash.

Lots of muses have been switched between their activity status. Current list goes:

primary muses: cas, hannibal, iris, izzy, jillian, the tardis, thirteen, will

secondary muses: edi, ed, ella, ever, garrus, lucius, mary, tali, ten

tertiary muses: charlie, clara, dean, river

test muses: chloe, eloise, fifteen, hurley, jake

Speaking of, right, Eloise has been released from "I need to rewatch Bridgerton first!" jail, and she's open for interactions sksksksksk

Guys, I don't remember what else I was meant to say.

The blog has had a bit of a makeover. Nobody look at my navigation page, the only thing I edited there so far was the colour scheme, it is outdated. I know me saying not to look is going to make people look but what can I do. Look at my muse directory and guidelines if you want to look at something, you sneaky sneaks.

The interest tracker has been updated. Chloe and Jake have been finally added on it. Cas and Thirteen have also been added on it. Fifteen has- you understand.

The tracker is the same one I've had before, but if you are interested in any of the added muses, please edit your responses. If you haven't done the tracker before, this would also be a very nice time to do it!

Going forward, I am going to go through my unaswered ooc messages and reply to people, I know there are a lot of you who have been on hold with plotting. Thank you so much for your patience. I am also going to start replying to things again, obviously. Now that my muse pages all have at least something on them, I can continue to work on them while my main focus for the blog is generally, well, roleplay. The pages being in such a state of WIP was a huge source of executive dysfunction for me.

I also plan to re-read everyone's guidelines just to make sure neither of us have edited ours so that we don't match anymore, but that'll not be done overnight with all of you.

I hope the url change isn't a huge inconvenience. If you could give this post a like, if you've seen it, that'd be awesome of you, though not at all necessary! I am genuinely very excited to be here again.

[bikananjarrus]

can i just say it felt so fucking GOOD to have good, well-executed, fast-paced (!!) lightsaber fight choreography. the fights were exciting! each character had their own distinct style that matched their abilities and size! they were fast!!!!!! hands down the best saber fights we’ve seen in live-action sw in a long time.

[koko2unite]

[girlivealwaysbean]

pata hai last kuch din i was very busy with my project kyunki final dena tha and binding karni thi etc to wo karwayi then i went to the bookfair bekaar tha then parso submit karne jaa rahi to subah accident hogaya (bhai ki bike skid hogayi and we fell down) and now i have a big ass blue bruise on my upper thigh and my parents don't even know lmao and kal ek science conference thi to i had to sit in an auditorium for 6 hours listening to accomplished people speak. that's what you missed now your turn

omg i knew everything in this except for the accident cause i stalk your blog vigorously everyday are you okay!!!!!!!!!! did you get tetanus shots!!!!!!!!!! also on your upper thigh oh no that's where future jiju is supposed to write MINE na as per our beloved song guilty as sin?

[monachopism]

am i autistic or am i just paranoid. level: impossible

[sherlock-is-ace]

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