#everything i make needs to be a huge hit or its nothing

[captainharlock]

the few people who believe in my small personal project enough to start tagging it in their reblogs like "#ssipm" like its a huge fandom thing already

[luxaofhesperides]

the beginning - danny

0.

The Lazarus Pit brings Danny back.

The child who went into them, however, is gone forever.

Danyal al Ghul is the soul who should reside in this body. Danyal has a life still to live and Danny died ages ago, old and surrounded by loved ones, ready to spend the rest of his forever in the Infinite Realms.

Something's gone terrible wrong, he thinks rather wryly, squinting through the cold green water that surrounds him. An ache echoes through his body and he brings a hand—small, a child's hand that shouldn't belong to him— to his stomach, where he can feel a large wound slowly pull itself together.

Did I get stabbed?

He means to continue the thought, but a sharp pain hits his head, making him curl up. He gasps and air bursts from his lungs, water rushing to fill in the empty space. Danny chokes, panicking, as memories slide into place, the lives of Danyal al Ghul and Danny Fenton fighting for dominance in his head. His lungs burn, throat working futilely to push water out, but there's nothing to be done.

Danny is a child again, and just like last time, he dies young.

1. So.

Assassins.

Danny honestly can't tell if this is a step up or a step down from mad scientist parents. On the one hand: he knows they loved him, as clumsy as it was, even though they loved their work more. On the other hand: assassin cult sounds like something out of a fairy tale, and while cool, is definitely not safe for kids.

And Danny, somehow, is a child again.

This really wasn't what he expected when he woke up on the sandy bottom of the pit. He's in ghost form, which is an unpleasant shock, but at least its familiar.

He is also, if his memory as Danyal serves him correctly, nine years old.

Kinda sucks that he died so young this time round. Didn't even make it to the double digits before he was taken out of the running.

He can't remember what it was like being so small in his last life. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a child and run them through with a sword. It's a cruel world he's woken up in. It's made worse by the fact that he's alone.

At least being down here without needing to breathe is giving him valuable time to think.

Danny has lived a full life already. He didn't really need or want another one, content to be a full ghost in the Infinite Realms. But going back isn't really an option, now that he's in a new body. The kid he could have been deserves to live fully, and the least Danny can do is live that life for them.

It'll be hard, but Danny's sure he can manage a decent life for himself.

Being presumed dead will make his escape from the assassins easier, though he'll miss getting the chance to meet his new mother; assassin as she is, Danyal knows her not by her blades but by her soft lullabies and jasmine-scented hair. The loss of her child must be hurting her deeply, but it's necessary. If Danny wants any semblance of a normal life, he has to leave her behind.

Besides, he's seen enough death. He doesn't want to ever be the cause of it.

So, he needs a plan for this new life.

Step one: get out of dodge.

The rest he'll figure out on the way.

2.

Turns out assassins weren't the most shocking thing in this new life.

No, that honor goes to superheroes.

Genuine, honest to God superheroes! With powers and everything!

To think that Danny once called himself a superhero. Ha! As if! He's nothing compared to the likes of Superman or the Flash or even Green Lantern. They're in another league. Literally. They're part of the Justice League, which has a whole slew of other heroes, and Danny is possibly their biggest fan.

Not like that's weird; most people in this world are huge fans of superheroes. Makes sense, since they're the ones who rely on their protection the most.

It does suck to know that his background belongs to that of a villain. Assassins aren't known for saving people, after all.

Part of him contemplates becoming a hero again, taking up the role of Phantom and joining the ranks of Superman. But he's had many years to come to terms with the loss of his teenage years and the bitterness that came with it. That experience, that life once lived, helps him decide each time that being a civilian is the gift this life owes him.

At thirteen, Danny lives in a foster home with six other kids. He's the oldest and has his hands full taking care of everyone else while their foster parents work three jobs between them to keep them all afloat.

When his younger siblings play superheroes, he gladly takes the role of the villain, swooping in with a blanket to kidnap away an innocent bystander that has to be rescued. He falls over dramatically at the end of each fight and praises his siblings' strength and teamwork, making them puff up with pride.

It's all fun and games so long as it only stays fun and games.

Superpowers are cool and all, but his came at the cost of his life, his health, his future. He knows, better than anyone, the price of being a hero. He knows that even Superman carries heavy losses on his shoulders, struggles under burdens no one can see.

He's lucky that the small town he ended up in—Luray, Virginia—has no heroes or villains. Too small a place to be on anyone's radar, apparently.

His classmates often complain about how they wish they could live in a big city where there's more to do, more to see, superheroes flying through the streets to protect them.

Danny is happy where he is. It's quiet, and small, and nothing like what he's used to, but it's safe.

That's all he really wants.

3.

Here's something that stays the same no matter what world he's in: Danny is a magnet for trouble.

If the trouble stopped at bullies, everything would have been fine. Danny could handle Dash, and he could handle Justin just as easily.

But the universe loves to escalate with Danny, specifically, which is why Danny had to reveal his powers when some villain-wannabe school shooter attacked his high school.

And to think he felt bad for Jackson when he didn't make it onto the track team.

Luray does not have a meta population. They're too small to have much of a population at all, and much of it is white which made him, half-Iranian, stand out even before he threw out a barrier of ice to protect his classmates a second before the gunfire began.

"Danny?!" his seatmate, Clarrissa, cries out in alarm.

"Everyone get out the window and run for it!" he orders, "I hold him back as much as I can!"

"You can't stay here!"

"Don't worry," Danny says, offering her a tight smile. "He couldn't kill me even if he tried. Now go!"

His classmates hadn't wasted any more time, sending him shocked looks as they escaped the classroom. A glimpse of his reflection in the window revealed glowing green eyes and blue mist wafting out of his mouth.

Looks like his time in Luray is up. He hopes his foster siblings won't be too mad at him for running away.

The gunfire stops, and Danny takes his chance to leap through his ice, intangible, and tackle Jackson, easily knocking the gun away from him.

"Monster!" Jackson spits at him, and Danny laughs.

"Bold of you to say that. I'm not to one trying to kill people."

He doesn't want to hear anything else that comes out of Jackson's mouth, so he knocks the guy out with a solid hit to a pressure point on his neck. Hopefully that'll keep him down long enough for the cops to get him.

Danny stands and means to leave, but something hits the back of his head hard and he's out before he realizes what's happened.

When he wakes up, he's strapped down to a table in what is undeniably a lab, and sighs.

At least he made it to sixteen before he went into another lab. Maybe in his next life he might even get all the way up to twenty before he's pulled back down here.

4. Though he has all his powers and a ghost form, that doesn't mean he is a ghost in this life.

No, he's fully a meta, which means meta-suppressing cuffs work on him.

It's not exactly a discovery he was hoping to have while locked up in a lab, but it's what he's got, so he has to roll with it. The cuffs are heavy on his wrists and around his throat, keeping him from escaping as a group of people in masks and lab coats bustle around, ignoring him.

His head is still foggy, though likely more from the drugs than the hit he took to his head.

He doesn't bothering talking to any of them; they don't see him as human, and Danny's dealt with enough of that in his past life.

Mad scientists love to talk though, so he still hears the gist of their plans: recreating the meta gene for normal people, making a profit from selling powers, getting rich and famous from their accomplishments. They had been using Jackson to get corpses for human testing, but they got Danny instead — someone they can harvest bio material for, a much better find than a couple dead kids.

If he had the energy to rage, Danny would have killed everyone in the room already. They planned to kill his classmates just for test subjects.

He doesn't want to be an assassin, but he'd gladly lean into those old lessons to make sure they never hurt anyone again.

But the cuffs and drugs do a good job of keeping him docile, barely able to think, as they transport him around to different locations and cut him open.

He's not sure how long it's been when they ease up on the drugs a bit. It still takes time for his body to work through everything, and he comes too with a throat that's dry and a stomach that hasn't had anything in it for quite some time.

The first thing Danny does when they start asking him questions is throw up on them.

If they wanted cooperation, they should have treated him better. This is fully on them.

It makes for a convincing argument for food and water and a bathroom break, at least, so he gets what he demands and takes care of his human body under the cold gazes of three scientists.

"You guys suck," he says conversationally. "Keeping test subjects alive is like basic knowledge. No wonder y'all suck at your jobs."

"Your comments aren't needed," one of the scientists says primly. "Get up. We need to study how using your powers affects your body."

They hook a bunch of different things onto him, then lock him in a glass cage and use the cuff around his throat to send jolts of electricity through him when he doesn't do anything. He throws a chunk of ice at them, watching as it breaks apart into small pieces when it hits the glass. The scientists scribble in their notepads, and when they look at him again, he flips them off.

He gets shocked again, but it's worth it.

The process repeats for another few hours, then he's pulled out of the cage, gets an IV stuck in his arm, and drops off into drugged oblivion before he has time to start throwing hands.

5.

It must have been months. Danny's not sure; it's hard to keep track of time when locked in isolation.

He knows he's fed at least once a day. He's been getting a tray of bland food at random times, but he's counted over 50 trays sliding through the little slot on the bottom of his cell door.

Turns out insulting scientists and their procedures is a bad idea, especially when he has the language to really bruise their egos.

So.

Isolation sucks.

But at least they don't drug him anymore!

The cuffs do their job of keeping him in place, and if he didn't have memories of another life to keep him company, he definitely would have lost his mind long ago.

There's other people in here, other metas. He's heard them screaming and begging for mercy. He's heard them go chillingly quiet. He wonders why there are so many superheroes in this world when not a single one has come to save them.

Surely at least one would notice metas disappearing and would investigate?

But no.

No one ever comes to save them.

So Danny needs to figure out a way past the cuffs, and then he can be Phantom again long enough to free the other metas and make every scientist involve pay for their crimes.

He just needs to wait.

He just needs—

6.

When Danny wakes up, the alarms are ringing. It makes his head pound, throbbing with each piercing sound.

He stumbles up, using the wall to keep his balance, and freezes when he sees that the door to his cell is open.

…Huh.

The hallway is bathed in red light when he steps out. No one's around. He wanders around the facility, searching for answers and only finds more questions.

There are other cells, also empty. Certain rooms have blood splattered across the walls and the floor, but no bodies. Labs are destroyed, broken glass on the floor. But every room is empty.

He wanders until he finds what must be a security room. There's a strange device dangling off a keychain on a rack, and Danny eyes it curiously. He runs his fingers around the cuff on his throat, feels the little depression where the collar comes together, and takes the rounded device. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work.

But if it does work…

The cuff pops open easily, as if it hasn't been his greatest foe these past few months.

All at once, his strength returns to him. He has forgotten what it was like to breathe easily, to feel his powers come to his call so easily, to be reassured that he can take care of himself.

It's almost like coming back to life.

He transforms, settling back into his ghost form with relief, and flies through the facility in search of any other metas that may need help. He finds no one, but he does catch a glimpse of the outside.

The sky is so blue it almost hurts to look at. Part of the facility has been blown apart; rubble surrounds the place and the surrounding forest has been flattened. It looks as though a fight has moved through the area.

Maybe a superhero did come to save them? Rude of them to leave only Danny, though.

He continues his search, poking his head into different rooms and hallways. He finds a staircase going down and follows it into the basement. More labs greet him, and the glow of computers and strange vials of liquid leave him unsettled.

There's a green glow coming around the corner than reminds him of the Lazarus Pit he flew out of, once upon a time many years ago, and that's what draws him forward.

Tucked away in that familiar glow is a small body, floating in a tube of liquid. There's an oxygen mask attached to her face, but that doesn't stop Danny from recognizing her.

"Ellie?"

7.

Just like in one life, Danny is cloned. The difference is that this time, there's no reason for it, no insane godfather trying to recreate a version of him that will choose him.

No, this time it's from a group of scientists who should have known better, who decided to mess around with his genes, and brought his once little sister now daughter into such a cruel, dangerous world.

Danny barely remembers breaking the glass to get her out of there. He doesn't know where he found the coat to bundle her up in, flying out of the facility as fast as he could. He feels sick, knowing it's his fault that she's here now, forced into a painful, terrifying existence because he wasn't strong enough to save himself.

He's a runaway meta victim of mad science. He can't take care of her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he whispers to her, pressing a kiss against her head. "I'm so sorry."

She small in his arms. She barely weighs anything.

Danny blinks back tears and tries to find some place he can stop and rest, somewhere safe he can gather his thoughts and figure out his next steps.

This isn't like when he first woke up in this world, with both sets of memories.

This is Ellie.

She deserves more than just a wish and a half-baked plan for a better life.

She deserves a family that wants her, that can care for her, that can protect her. She deserves to grow up normally and not worry about destabalizing or being a replacement for him or being hunted down.

She deserves one life to be a kid and grow up safe and be whoever she wants to be.

Danny will never be able to give her that.

But maybe he can give her to someone who can.

8.

Danyal grew up with an assassin mother and a cruel grandfather who expected far too much from a child. He was taught to kill and be more weapon than child. He was taught the world was something for him to take, to protect, to water with blood.

Danyal was meant to be the next Demon Head, and the next Bat.

Danny knows he can't go to his mother. If they're both lucky, he will never have to see her again. Knowing his luck, he's already planning explanations for why he never went back to her.

Danny's father, on the other hand…

It didn't take much to put the pieces together. The notorious Bat is Batman, Gotham's vigilante and one of the founders of the Justice League. While a child would have been left confused by the many comments his mother made about his father, it was simple enough for Danny to line them up with what he learned about the heroes of this world and realize, oh, that's my dad.

It takes a few weeks of research, using public libraries with Ellie tucked securely in a wrap to his chest, but he's able to learn more about Batman.

The most important thing being that he has kids.

Of course, none of this is officially acknowledged, but everyone knows that the Robins are his kids. Current Robin, especially, likes to remind people that he's 'the son of Batman'.

Okay. Cool.

Danny has siblings.

Awesome.

He's… not looking forward to those conversations.

At least it means more people to look after Ellie. Assuming they take her in, which Danny's really hoping for.

But it's the best he can do, so Danny sets course for Gotham and hopes that just this once, everything will work out.

9.

Meeting the Bats of Gotham is a lot harder than he expected.

A week in the city and he's barely caught more than a glimpse of them. He can't dedicate a lot of time to tracking them down either, needing to break into grocery stores to get food for him and Ellie.

She's so quiet as a baby, and it terrifies him. She's only cried twice the entire time he's had her, and Danny spends every day begging her to hold on.

Time during the day is spent catching naps and researching common vigilante spotting areas in Gotham. He's got a map of Gotham taken from a library and has been steadily marking it up, putting stars in the best places to find a Bat. There are places all over the city, and Danny has no idea how to know which ones are the best.

The only thing he can do is wait at a different rooftop each night, clinging to Ellie, wondering if this is the last night he has with her.

On the ninth night, someone finally arrives.

"Step away from the edge," a voice demands.

Danny turns to see Robin approaching, hands held out as if to catch him. He's bigger than Danny was expecting. Which makes sense; most of the stories Danny got online are from when Robin was a kid, and it's been a few years since then. He must be a teenager now. Older, but still young.

"Robin," he manages to say, his throat tightening. It feels almost like there's a noose around it. It feels like that meta-suppressing cuff has clicked back into place, leaving him helpless.

"Step away from the edge," Robin repeats. "There is no need for this to be your last resort."

"But it is," Danny whispers.

Robin darts forward and wraps a hand around Danny's wrist, yanking him towards the center of the roof. "Why on Earth would you come up here? Surely you must have known that someone would stop you."

"Batman," he gets out. "I need to speak to Batman."

"What for?"

"I'm… I was told, once, that I'm his son."

10. Robin stares at him for a long moment.

Then he takes off his mask.

Danny knows those eyes: he sees them every time he looks in a mirror.

"Danyal," Robin breathes. "You died before I was born."

"I did. Are you…?"

"Mother told me about you."

So he has a little brother. If only he hadn't left first chance he got, he could have known his little brother, gotten away from that place before it hurt him too. Danny has made many mistakes since he arrived in this world. Missing a little brother is perhaps the worst of them.

"Mother…" Danny repeats. "She put me in the Lazarus Pit. I remember that. She didn't want me to die."

"I was born to replace you."

Just like Ellie.

So many mistakes repeating. He's never felt like more of a failure.

"Batman. Our father. He treats you well? You are safe with him?"

Robins brows furrow, but he nods, which is enough for Danny. "Yes. Of course. Isn't that why you're here now?"

"I'm not asking for me." Danny carefully, gently, unwraps Ellie. "I'm asking for her. Please, take care of her. She deserves more than I can give her. Ellie… she'd be your niece."

Robin's eyes are wide. He's frozen until Danny pushes Ellie against his chest, forcing him to lift his arms to hold her.

"Wait, what about—?"

When Robin looks up, Danny's already gone.

It's for the best.

(masterpost for all parts)

[4linos]

empty words

hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

synopsis: you thought you’d tell him about the pregnancy with excitement, but his cold rejection shatters your hopes. Now, with everything crumbling, you must figure out how to move forward.

warnings: asshole!!! hyunjin, pregnancy/pregnant mentions, huge argument & just overall really angsty.

wc: 1338

[empty words pt. 2]

You sat on the edge of the bed, the test still warm in your hands, its small white stick almost mocking you as it proved everything you'd been afraid to admit. Positive. You knew it deep down, didn't you? The nausea, exhaustion, and little, subtle changes in your body. But seeing it in black and white made you feel as if the world had stopped. Your heart raced in your chest, a deafening thrum that overshadowed everything else. You'd imagined this moment numerous times before, but none of them matched the crushing sense of terror and uncertainty that gripped you right now.

What were you going to do? You didn't even know where to start. You'd hoped to start a family with him someday. Hyunjin. You imagined him holding the test, his face beaming with excitement, making plans and talking about everything you two could do to prepare. But now that you saw the reality of the situation, you're afraid.

How would he react? Would he be happy? Or would he be disappointed? Will he panic and push you away? Your mind swirled with questions, each one more pressing than the previous. You thought that, whatever happened, the two of you would be able to handle it together. You've always been able to handle things right? But now, with the test in your hand, everything seemed uncertain, as though a single word from him could shatter everything.

You shook your head, trying to focus. You couldn’t let this news get to you before you even told him. He’d be home soon, and you needed to figure out how to tell him.

You hid the test in the drawer and closed it, trying to push it to the back of your mind. Dinner. You should focus on dinner. You still had some time, so maybe you could make something nice, something that would ease the tension. You wanted everything to be perfect when he walked through the door, so you could tell him with some semblance of normality, of calmness. He would be okay, wouldn’t he?

But when the door clicked open, it was anything but normal. The usual excitement you felt when you heard his footsteps in the hallway was gone. It was like the air had changed, a heaviness settling between you before he even entered the room. He didn’t greet you with the usual teasing smile, didn’t ask about your day or tell you how much he missed you. Instead, he walked in, his face drawn, tight with something you couldn’t place. The warmth you were used to was completely absent.

"Hey, love, how was your day?" you asked, a little too cheerfully, hoping he would smile and make everything feel okay again.

He didn’t. Instead, he just grunted, his gaze flicking toward you briefly before he turned away, walking past you without saying a word.

"Do you want to have dinner now?" you asked, trying to fill the silence, trying to make things feel normal, even though everything in you screamed that nothing was normal. "I was thinking about making something, maybe pasta or—"

He scoffed, cutting you off. "You didn’t make anything?" His voice was sharp, colder than you’d ever heard it.

The words hit you like a blow in the face. You got so preoccupied with thinking about whether or not to take the test, swirling fear and anticipation, that you had entirely forgotten about dinner. You felt an overwhelming sense of shame come over you, yet it was nothing compared to how his words made you feel. You instantly looked down at the floor, avoiding his eyes, wishing you could just break down the tension in the air.

"I forgot," you confessed slowly, your voice small.

His expression darkened. Without saying anything, he turned toward the kitchen, his footsteps heavy and irritating. "I'll make something for myself," he murmured under his breath, turning away from you to begin gather food from the refrigerator. You stood there for a moment, watching him walk with displeasure with each stride.

Something within you stirred. Something was not right. You hadn't seen him this off in a long time. "Hyunjin, are you okay?" You tried again, your voice softer this time, and stepped closer to him, your heart racing in your chest. "You’re been acting distant... Is everything alright?

He didn’t turn around, but you saw his jaw tighten. His hands moved faster, the sounds of him grabbing pots and pans harsh against the stillness. Then, he scoffed again, this time louder, more frustrated. "I’m tired of everything," he muttered, not looking at you, his voice low but heavy with frustration.

"What?" You didn’t know if you had heard him correctly. Your breath caught in your throat as your chest tightened, a wave of dread flooding over you. You took a step closer. "What did you say?"

Hyunjin turned to face you then, his eyes cold, a deep frown etched on his face. "I said I’m tired of you. Tired of this. Tired of everything. The relationship. Everything about it. It’s been building up, and I just… I don’t know anymore." His voice was sharp, cutting through you like a knife. The words hit you harder than you had imagined.

Your legs went weak, but you held yourself upright, willing your body to stay steady. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, like you were afraid that if you spoke too loudly, the fragile piece of reality you were holding onto would shatter.

"Hyunjin, you’re not making sense. This isn’t… you."

His gaze turned even colder, and he looked at you like you were a stranger. "I’m suffocated," he spat. "I can’t do this anymore. I can’t breathe when I’m with you. Everything feels like it’s just… weighing me down. I’m done."

The words struck you like a stab to the chest. Your breath caught, and the world around you started spinning. You wanted to scream, ask why, and beg him to stay. You couldn't lose him like way. But the hurt in his eyes and the finality in his tone told you it was already over. You swallowed hard, tears welling up in your eyes, but you held them back. Not yet.

"Hyunjin…" you muttered, struggling to maintain your voice. "What are you saying?" "You want us to break up?" He nodded, without a trace of emotion on his face. "Yes," he responded, almost coldly. "I don't want this anymore. You can keep everything, the apartment, all the stuff; I don't care. I just need out. I need to be alone."

A heavy silence hung between you, the weight of his words settling like a thick fog around you. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, to make this make sense, but the words wouldn’t come.

You can’t leave. You can’t do this to me.

But instead, you just choked on your breath, the sting of tears becoming unbearable.

"You want to leave," you whispered quietly, the finality of your words making your throat ache. "Then go." You did not want to show him how much he was hurting you just yet. You didn't want him to see the brokenness in your eyes. Hyunjin didn't hesitate. He grabbed his jacket and keys and proceeded toward the door without saying anything.

The slam of the door as he left rang around the room like a bullet punctured the air. You slumped to the floor, your body trembling, tears finally spilling freely as you held your stomach, your hand reflexively pressing against the growing life inside you.

The sobs wracked through you, each one pulling at your chest as you sat alone. You had pictured a future where the two of you were making a life together, but it seemed so far away. You'd never felt so small and alone.

"Why?" you cried into the emptiness.

And then, as your hand rested over your belly, you whispered, through your tears, "I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to do this alone."

//

[mywritersmind]

ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR - LN4

↳ pt.3

summary : Feelings are complicated and you and Lando aren’t a great mix to express them. A tension filled boat that leads to sexual chemistry so thick that you end up in the same bed.

og summary : Its the vacation of your dreams! With your best friends, rich men, live music, and flowing drinks, nothing can ruin it. Even if a certain Formula 1 driver (who seems to have an affinity for annoying you) is there every step of the sandy way.

listen up : ho this is long. suggestive comments!! hope you like part three!!! muah! previous part

word count : 4142

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Boat day! Boat day!” Alex chants while walking down the dock with Lily on his shoulders. I woke up to over a hundred texts to get to the dock with a swimsuit and sunscreen.

Charles’ friend doesn’t just have a boat he has a fucking yacht. It’s not gigantic but it’s definitely the nicest boat I've ever seen. “Uh Charles… you do know how to drive this, right?”

Alexandra shares my worried stare as Lando and Carlos race each other onto it. Kika throws her arm around me and grins as we walk onto the back. There’s four steps and my jaw drops as we go ‘inside’.

There’s a huge couch that turns into a dining area, a TV, followed by a small kitchen. Kika and I hurry to the front where there’s one day bed that shaded and one in the very front that’s for tanning.

Apparently there’s three bedrooms and two bathrooms! “I think I need a yacht.” I say to Kika as we check out the table and chairs on the side.

She looks like a mermaid today, in a bright blue bikini and sparkly nail polish. I’ve taken more of a siren route in dark red.

I’m all for woman doing things in ‘male’ fields, but I let the men figure out how to get the boat working. Alexandra, Lily, Kika, Rebecca and I, put our things down in one of the rooms and make our way to the Bow where the sun is hitting us perfectly.

Rebecca pulls off her shirt to reveal a light pink one piece while Lily runs over with a speaker in a multicolored bikini. We start blasting Dominic fine as Charles evidently figured the boat out, and we start to leave.

The moment we only see clear blue water, the girls turn to me. I’m laid out on the tanning bed, sunnies on and fully ready to take a sunny nap, but Rebecca pokes me.

“So, you and Lando are still alive!” She says the obvious as I sit up and lean against my arms, “How’d it go!?”

I want to tell them everything. I want to tell them that It was genuinely fun and I had a great time and i’ve never laughed harder, but I can’t. I shrug, “It was okay.”

Alex eyes me, “Just… okay?”

I nod, “He fucked up my plan so we didn’t go anything crazy and we got kicked out of a pottery place.”

Kika perks up at this, “Pottery? Did he do that thing like how the movie stars do it?” She gets behind Lily as they start to recreate those weird sexual pottery scenes.

I roll my eyes, “No. Like I said, we got kicked out. Then we just went to the hotel and split up.”

Lily frowns, “Lando said you two got a drink.”

Shit. “Oh right, I went to sleep pretty early.”

Kika groans and falls down next to me, “So nothing happened at all? No flirting, no kissing?”

Lots of flirting and fuck yes kissing!

I love my friends, and I trust them! I just don’t trust them to not tell their boyfriends. “Did you have this ‘couples day’ just so Lando and I would have a chance of hooking up?”

Lily leans in, “So is there a chance!?”

I look at all of them to make sure everyone is listening, “No chance! I told you I wanted to have a fun vacation which does not include you trying to set me up!”

Rebecca slouches a bit, “You’re right.”

“Sorry.” Alex mumbles, “We just feel bad.”

“It’s not your fault i’m single and you’re not.” I stand, “I’m going to get some water.”

My plan to hide away on the couch is immediately ruined by Lando taking up the whole thing. He’s scrolling on his phone, shirt and shoes off.

I turn quickly and go downstairs, running into Pierre, “Hey Y/n! Looking for something?”

“Uh… water?”

There’s a little mini fridge that he pulls a bottle from, “You okay?” Pierre is sweet and it makes me happy for Kika.

“Yeah!” I open the bottle and drink.

“Just that… Lando told us what happened.” I choke on the water, coughing as his eyes get panicked, “What!?”

“Are you- Uh… He just said that you two ended the night weird. We all thought it would magically turn you into friends but I guess not.” Fucking hell he just scared me so bad.

“Oh! Right… I guess some things just aren’t meant to be.” So everyone was rooting for us to become friends yesterday?

Pierre just shrugs and moves past me, walking up the stairs without another word.

⋆༺

LANDO

I’m playing poker with my friends while the girls dance around the front deck. We’re anchored on the water and after an hour of swimming, we all needed to pause.

I’m shit at poker but it doesn’t matter because i’m already distracted by the shadow of a girl through the window.

I kissed her. I kissed her and she’s avoiding me.

I think i’m an idiot but I know i’m not because anyone smart would fall for her. Not that I'm in love or anything, I’m just… intrigued?

“Lan?” Alex kicks me under the table, “What’s got you so uninterested in money?”

I just shake my head and look back down at my cards, “Something happened, didn’t it?” Pierre asks, clocking my weird mood. “With Y/n.”

“No.” She would kill me if I told, and I already said too much by drunkenly explaining that the night did not end well to Alex and Lily.

They would definitely tell their girlfriends, so I keep my mouth shut, “You’re a shit liar.” Carlos says, “But whatever, None of my business.”

Charles frowns, “Totally our business! We all love Y/n and want to know what happened!”

“Nothing happened.” I shake my head, taping a chip against the table, “Drop it.”

Just then, Y/n walks in while clutching her hand, her face scrunched up, “I need a bandaid asap.” Charles stands quickly and grabs the first aid kit from a cabinet, “Your girlfriend pushed me off the boat!” She points to Pierre who cringes.

She’s soaking wet, her hair dripping water onto the floor as she crosses her legs. She's in a red bikini and I think I might faint.

I instantly feel bad when I remember her hand is bleeding and i’m just checking her out. Kika runs in, “I’m so sorry, Y/n!”

Y/n just shakes her head, walking over to the kitchen and washing off her hand, wincing at the pain, “Don’t worry It’s just a scratch, i’m just joking.”

I stand and walk over, looking over the sink to get a better look at her hand. She’s got a cut along the side of her hand, bloody and sort of gross. “You sure you’re okay?”

She nods without saying anything, just turning to Charles who has his kit ready.

I bite my lip and sort of awkwardly walk towards Carlos who’s already watching me. “The fuck did you do?”

⋆༺

YOU

Besides my little incident with my hand, I’m having a great time.

Charles drives us to a secluded area with caves which you can swim in. I personally stay out in the open air but Rebecca, Pierre, Charles, and Alexandra check them out.

I sit in a tube with my head tilted back and my hair floating around me. My stomach and chest are warm while my back is cold against the water.

Someone dives in near me and I can hear my laughing as they jump and flip off the boat. I regret opening my eyes as soon as I do because I catch Lando back flipping off the boat.

It’s one of those moments where I don’t remember why I don’t like him. I suppose that’s not as true now, but seeing him flip off is still hot as hell.

I end up dunking and swimming back to the boat, sitting on the back where my feet dangle in the water. I know Lando’s the one walking down and sitting next to me before I see him.

“Hey.” He sounds nervous and quick.

“Hi.” I stand and walk up the stairs, screwing up my face and mentally yelling at myself. I hide in the kitchen, grabbing some fruit before venturing out to sit with Lily and Alex.

They’re all cuddled up and giggling so I spare them my company and sit at the table on the side of the boat.

The music is quiet and I can hear my friends talking across the boat. I bite into a strawberry and stare at the water below.

My anxiety is through the roof and i’m on a boat in fucking turkey. I’m annoyed that Lando just being near me is making me on edge.

As if he heard me, his head pokes out from behind the door, his hair wet and his eyes shining. “We’re gonna take off soon. Might wanna hold on cause of Charles’ driving.”

“Ok.” It’s like I can’t control my feet. I just stand and walk past him, giving him a quick smile and leaving him.

I then interrupt Alex and Lily, loudly stepping down the steps so they sit up. I hear everyone else getting out of the water and Lily can tell something wrong immediately.

“Could you get me some water?” She turns to Alex who gives her a quizzical look.

“You can’t do it yours-” She gives him another look which he immediately understands. Alex leaves quickly and Lily hurries over to me. I sit with my knees to my chest as she puts her hand on my arm.

“What happened? For real this time, what’s wrong?”

I look up at her, our friends walking past and up to the kitchen. I try to say it but I just groan and shove my face into my knees, “Y/n!”

I mumble it but she pokes my face so I look back up at her. I take a breath and force it out, “Lando kissed me.” And then she screams.

I shove my hand over her mouth so fast that her scream is muffled. We practically wrestle as she tries to get my hand free, “Lily!” She licks my hand and I gasp, pulling it off her.

“I’ll stop! I’ll stop!” She shuts her mouth and sits on her feet, staring at me, “We saw him last night… He looked drunk and completely in a different world.”

I groan into my hands, laying back on the cushion, “We were drunk! Sort of… We had a great day and it was actually fun like the type of thing friends do.” she nods at my words, “But then we were on the beach drinking and joking and he just… kissed me.”

Lily leans in, whispering, “Did you kiss him back?”

I bite my lip at the memory, nodding slowly. She screams again. I lay face down on the cushion as she taps my shoulder repeatedly and the boat starts to move. “Was it like a peck or make out?”

My cheeks get red so she already knows the answer, “Who stopped it?”

“Me? I think.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes… God, Lily!” she’s smiling at me again, “He’s a good kisser. Also please don’t tell anyone! Especially the girls. I just don’t want it getting around or making anything awkward.”

“Of course I won’t! Even Alex, I promise.” she attaches her pinky to mine and grins, “I have so many questions and we will talk about this later but I have one thing I need to ask.”

I sigh, “Go ahead.”

“Do you want it to happen again?” I think I'm going to be sick.

⋆༺

LANDO

I find Lily and Y/n at the front, Y/n looks panicked at my appearance. “Can I talk to you?” She looks at me, then Lily.

I actually think she’s going to jump off the boat to avoid talking to me. But instead she goes for a quicker route, “I gotta pee.” I roll my eyes as she runs inside, slipping a bit at the wet deck.

Lily and I both watch her run, she just blinks and shrugs, “Good luck with that one.” She probably told Lily and it’s making me ultra aware that she knows I kissed her friend.

I settle back inside on the couch, listening to Charles tell a story while my eyes are completely distracted by Y/n laughing with her friends and eating raspberries.

I need to talk to her. She’s got a good poker face when she isn’t blushing and it’s practically impossible to get her alone.

“What about you, Lando? The only single one left!” Alex laughs and nudges my arm.

I laugh awkwardly, “Right.” I know the girls can hear this and I don’t want it to continue.

“So… how many models are you talking to?” Carlos asks as I scratch the back of my neck.

I shift my gaze to Y/n, who’s looks frustratingly good with her back arched, her elbows on the counter, and her eyes trying not to meet mine.

I run my tongue over my teeth and look back at Carlos, “You really wanna make that joke when your girlfriends a model, Sainz?” His face drops immediately and he punches my arm.

Charles and Pierre are crying laughing, “You two really wanna laugh?” They shut up real quick which makes me hear Y/n’s laugh.

It makes me smile and as soon as I realize why, I stop. “What about that girl you were debating on bringing?” Pierre snaps back fast.

“Hey, I was drunk and-”

“Pussy whipped!” Pierre coughs as Kika throws a raspberry at his head.

My friends start a new conversation (per the girls request) and move it out to the deck, Charles and Pierre arguing in french while they drive. I watch Y/n excuse herself and slip inside, and I follow.

I corner her outside the bathroom, her hands brushing through her half dried hair. She freezes, “Excuse me.”

She tries to walk past but I don’t let her. “Did I overstep?” She looks at me confused still, “Because I feel like an asshole.”

“No… You didn’t overstep.”

I groan, placing my hand next to her head against the wall, “So then talk to me.”

She crosses her arms, “I don’t want to.”

“Tough shit. You kissed me back.”

“I wish I didn’t.” She’s not looking me in my eyes and I haven’t been able to forget how she kissed me so I know she’s lying.

I step closer, “Try again, pretty.”

She looks up at me, her mouth pouty and her eyes big. “It was a mistake…”

I frown, “Mistakes can happen more than once.”

“Not this kind.” She lets out a breath, “I can’t stand you.”

“So use me.”

She opens her mouth, then shuts it. Y/n bites her lip and it takes everything in me not to physically whine. “You’re not mine to use.”

“I’m offering.”

“I’m rejecting.” that hurts way more than I expected.

“I’ll get on my knees.” Her hand goes to my arm that’s braced against the wall, her touch is soft and makes me weak.

I swallow and she clocks it instantly. “Go on, then.” I think I'm dreaming, but I’m not one to pinch myself.

I slowly sink to my knees, my hand trailing down the side of her body. I didn’t think she’d say yes. Right here? Where anyone could find us? I’ve never been more down for anything in my entire life.

She smiles, cute and innocent as if i’m not kneeling in front of her. God she’s beautiful. Her tanned leg moves to my shoulder and just as I think she’s about to pull me in, she shoves me back down.

I stare at her from my new place on the floor, her smile much wider now. She gets down to my level as I try to pull myself back up, she pushes me back down. “In your dreams, Norris.”

I breathe out as she walks up the stairs, my view cushioning the embarrassment I feel, “Trust me, you will be.”

⋆༺

YOU

My lovely friends have decided to have another lovely couples night. I honestly am excited to have a moment of peace after today's day.

I get all dressed up in my favorite outfit. A red cocktail dress that fits like a glove, white heels, and my hair wavy and salty.

I’m in a great mood, it’s the type of mood where i’m avoiding everything but am by the ocean so I can’t be sad! Everything is nice and well until I get turned away at the restaurant.

It’s the one place close to the hotel that I haven’t been, “I’m sorry, there just isn’t any table for tonight.”

So it appears that every single person has decided to settle down and wallow in self pity at this restaurant, “Please!”

“I’m sorry, we just can’t have you sit unless you have another-”

I hear him swear before I see him. He’s dressed up too, arguing with another waiter as he sets eyes on me, “Great.”

Lando’s face below me flashes in my mind as he looks at me as if he wishes I was anybody else, “I’ll eat with her.”

“Don’t seem so happy.” I cross my arms, my clutch in my hand as he walks closer.

“My beautiful date.” The word beautiful makes me drop my annoyed expression and I'm lucky he’s looking at the hostess, “One table, for two, please.”

We’re shown our table, given water and ordered drinks, but I refuse to talk first. Lando seems to have the same idea, sipping his drink and looking out at the dark water.

Still, He clears his throat and looks at me. His jacket is hung over the chair, a curl falling just perfectly down, and with his green eyes in the moonlight, he looks like a prince.

“Have a good day, pretty?”

“Are you small talking me now, Norris?”

His brow quirks as he brings his glass to his lips, “You’ve been ignoring me all day, what else am I supposed to say? Would you rather me beg?”

Maybe I would. “I saw Kika push you into the water today. You hit your head?” I fake pity, pouting.

“I must have because suddenly I'm imagining a very pretty girl run her very pretty hands through my hair.” He sits up straighter, “Hm… must be the head injury.”

I thought I would be more upset because of our dining situation. But I find myself smiling as he teases me. We order and he does the oddest thing… he starts asking me about my life.

“I know you. I’ve been around you. I’ve kissed you. Yet I don’t even know where you live.” I’m surprised but should I be? Just because I didn’t like him, doesn’t mean I didn’t laugh at his jokes.

So we start talking. And for about an hour and a half, it’s all we do. We talk with a side of food and a beautiful view. We talk about Formula 1, we talk about my work, we talk about my hair, we talk about his family.

He asks me about my pets and he doesn’t complain when I make a jab at his food which is plain as can be.

It’s the first time that I really believe we could be friends. It’s when I truly see the potential that my friends have seen. “We were too alike.” I snap my fingers together, swirling my pasta, “That’s why I hated you.”

“So you hated yourself? That’s quite harsh, pretty.” He’s finished his food, and is lounging in his chair. The restaurant is almost empty, we could sit wherever we’d like and leave too, but I keep talking.

“No. I mean you just clashed with me because two of the same personality is too much.”

“I think I think ‘too much’. Has me enjoying our date.”

I shake my head, “Not a date.”

“Totally a date.” He winks and I drop the subject.

“I think I didn’t like you because I liked you.” He says it so casually that I almost don’t understand it.

“What?”

“I really like you.” He nods and I wonder how many glasses of wine he’s had, “Y/n, i’m not drunk. I’m just honest. Don’t freak out i’m not gonna get down on one knee…” this makes him smirk, “Or two!”

“You can’t just dislike someone because you fancy them!”

“I don’t fancy you! I just… like you. I like the way you are around me and I really liked messing with you. You’re easy to frustrate.”

“I am not!” He raises a brow and I shut my mouth.

“Let’s get going… everyone’s party already at the beach club. You wouldn’t want to miss your local lovers.”

“Um… are you dining and dashing? We have to pay.” He scoffs. Actually scoffs at me!

“I already did. Come on.” He takes my bag and walks out.

At my request, Mamma mia plays from his phone as we walk down the path next to the beach. I spin around with my heels in my hand and my hair in my face. “Why can’t I live on an island!?”

“Why can’t you?”

I eye him, “I’ll live on an island when you buy me one.”

“Woah- I bought you dinner and you just started to tolerate me… Save the island for next week.” I smile and almost trip over something that hisses.

“Aw!” I practically scream and kneel down to it. It’s a tiny cat, orange and brown and rubbing against my outstretched hand, “Oh my god!”

“It’s gonna bite you.” I just roll my eyes and tug at his pant leg to join me.

The cat takes to him immediately, rubbing up against his leg and clawing up to his chest. I laugh as it falls off and comes back to me, “Cutie…”

I scratch its ear with my nicely done nails which he clearly appreciates. He starts licking my hand and I wish I had something to feed him. A small smile settles on my lips as the cool breeze brushes back my hair.

I look up to see Lando staring at me. “I really did mean it, when I said you were beautiful.” I feel a little sick at his words. The good kind of sick. The butterflies kind of sick.

The cat runs away when someone joins us on the path and I stand with him, “We should hurry, party time.”

⋆༺

LANDO

She left her purse in my room. We were heading back and I had to put down my jacket so we stopped in my room.

She left her bag which explains why she’s standing at my door in a matching pajama set and hotel slippers on her feet

“I need my mints.” She pushes past me and looks around for it. I help her because I have no idea where she put it either.

She had guys buy her drinks all night. You have no idea how much it killed me to see them all over her as if she wasn’t having dinner with me an hour before.

“Your room is a mess.” she says as she tears apart my nicely made bed.

“You’re tipsy, huh?”

She giggles as I lean against the door frame. She falls on my bed and looks up at the ceiling, “Guys love me!”

I shake my head and yawn. I finally find her bag, it’s in the bathroom for some reason and when I come back into my room to hand her it, she’s passed out on my bed.

“Y/n!” I shake her a bit but she only slaps my hand away, “You are so close to being in the correct bed! I found your purse.”

Her eyes open slightly, then she rolls over and moans louder, “Shh!” Then she’s out like a light. I hear her soft breathing and rustling around as I give up and sit next to her.

“I’m not sleeping on the couch!” I tell her but I know she’s already asleep.

She looks oddly peaceful. She looks tan and happy, even asleep on my bed. I accept my fate quicker than I probably should have, “Goodnight, then, pretty.” Flipping off the lights and pulling the blanket over her, I slip next to her and push a pillow in between us.

I don’t want her to wake up screaming after all.

I see her outline in the dark, the weight of someone sharing my bed, and the smell of her perfume I know is going to be there tomorrow. I see her, and curse myself.

She really is beautiful.

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known

pairing: spiderwoman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: after miguel’s fight with miles, you confront him in his office

warnings: this whole thing is basically one big argument there’s SO much angst, implied suicide attempt, HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, im projecting a little in some parts of this ngl (i cried writing a certain section of this, you'll know it when you read it lmao), mentions and descriptions of blood, gore, and death

word count:  4.1k

notes: i watched the movie yesterday…and miguel is on my mind. but i remember reading this namor x reader fanfic after i watched wakanda forever of a similar idea to this and i loved it so this is HEAVILY inspired by that fic, but just make it miguel. i would link it but ngl that was so long ago and i dont remember the author. if i end up finding it again ill put it here. also, just pretend miguel has been doing this whole spider society thing for a couple of years at least, it just needs to work like that for this ik its probably not canon but just roll with it lmao. and yes the title is a taylor swift lyric im so glad you noticed (im so sorry she's in my brain rn with the eras tour)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The anger boiled up inside your chest as you stormed your way across the lobby. Hundreds of different Spider-Man variants were scattered across the area, some more injured than the others. It sickened you sometimes. How he had so many people under his grasp and just decided to throw some of them at the walls sometimes, not caring how hard they hit the floor because they were all just ammo to him. How despite his denials of it, that’s probably what your role was to him as well. Nothing more than a bullet in his massive machine gun.

You normally tried not to think about it, how his determination towards his goal sometimes meant lack of care for others. But this time he had just gone too far. You always had a soft spot for Miles, watching closely on him whenever Miguel would let you go though scanners of all the different variants. You admired his struggle, but eventual success to taking up the previous Peter’s mantle, and always hated how Miguel talked about him. You knew there was no way Miles could’ve asked for any of this. For the pressures and struggles of being a Spider-Man, for everything causing such a strained relationship with his parents, for the death of his uncle, and for what will be the eventual death of his father. You definitely didn’t.

Ok lets do this one last time. Eh, whatever, there’s probably gonna be 50 other introductions after this one so it doesn’t really matter.

Being Earth-837’s Spider-Man has never been easy. Especially since you were bit when you were only 13 (another reason you sympathized with Miles and Gwen). Your life had followed the order of canon events to a perfect T, your older brother killed in a fight with a robber only two months after you were bit. You tried to overcome the burden of your powers by trying to live as normal of a teenage life as possible, but it was mostly in vain, having to give up multiple friendships and relationships in fear of those you love getting hurt. This was only elevated when your boyfriend Peter was murdered in the crossfire of an encounter with Doc Ock. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. What you had done to deserve all of this. All you did was just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder sometimes what would happen if someone was in the same place you were when you got bit. If someone else went to the closed down area of that museum and ran into that spider. That stupid spider that ruined your life. Those thoughts slowly started to disappear for a bit. For a few years things were easy. Things seemed like they were finally going in your favor.

You were 25 when it happened. The last canon event. Ever since you were a little girl you hated your mother’s job. Losing nights of sleep over if she would come home or not. She always did though. She was good at her job. Too good though. Good enough to get promoted to police captain, which for who you were, was basically sealing her fate. She saved so many people that day. You were too busy fighting Venom to notice how much collateral damage you were causing in the process. Your mother’s job was to evacuate all the citizens away from the fight. She died shielding a child from incoming debris. A noble way to go. But god was it gruesome. You found her after the fight was over, two metal poles impaling her. One through her stomach and one straight through her face, pools of blood growing bigger below her as she was left there, all the paramedics busy trying to save the heavily injured. You froze when you finally recognized her, unable to at first due to how mutilated her face was from the pole. Suddenly, you were transported back to being a six year old, falling asleep outside the door to your mother’s bedroom so you would know exactly when she would come home. Purposefully falling asleep in her arms so that she couldn’t go anywhere.

When you used the key she had given you to get into her apartment that night, and you slept in her room, desperate to intake anything left of her before she was fully gone. You doused yourself in her perfume so it still felt like she was standing right behind you. You had always loved her smell. The smell of vanilla, curl product, and fancy perfume. They were attached to memories you had of her. Trying on her heels when you were a kid to try and be fancy like her. Smelling her hair in the morning before school to comfort you before she left for work. Despite all of this bringing you comfort, all it really did was cause further denial in your heart. That one day you were gonna hear the keys clacking in the keyhole to your apartment one more time. That’s all you really wanted. You would give everything up in a heartbeat just to hear her police scanner go off one last time. But it wasn’t going to. And it was your fault. Deep down you knew it was. You should’ve done a better job controlling the debris. You had always been a messy fighter, but you didn’t know it was going to mean anything until it was too late. 

How you got up to the top of that building is still a blur to you to this day. But next thing you know, you were looking at the New York City skyline from the very top of the Empire State Building. And at the very edge too. You heard some sounds behind you, but you just decided it was the wind howling from how high up you were. You were just so tired. Everything and everyone you loved was cursed all because of you. And with your mother as the most recent victim, you decided you finally had enough. You took a deep breath, eyes overflowed with water, as you set your foot forward.

Your plummet was interrupted by a sudden contact you felt to your forearm. Shock filled your body as you turned around to look at what had stopped your attempt. The blue hand was massive, nearly wrapping back around onto itself as it held onto you for dear life. You finally looked up at face that the hand belonged to. The mask that covered the massive figure was a strange one. Blue with strange red silhouettes for the eyes. It kind of reminded you of…your own costume? That couldn’t be though there was no way. This must be the afterlife or something. You already jumped and that's why you didn’t remember your way up to the top. This was some kind of creature trying to stop you from jumping down to hell below. His breaths were heavy and loud, almost like he was desperate to stop you. This convinced you that this was real, which caused you to try to escape from his grip. He was stronger than you, and was putting up a huge fight. You were slick though. Once you were out of his hand, you closed your eyes and quickly made your jump. Everything flashed before your eyes. Your brother, Peter, your mom. You were hoping to see them soon. This was very quickly interrupted again when you suddenly stopped falling. Something had attached itself to your stomach. You opened your eyes. A web? This web was much different than yours though. It was glowing a bright, neon orange.

The man was holding onto the end of it tightly with both hands. His mask then disappeared to show his face. His was long, matching how big the rest of his body was, defined cheek bones sticking out. Brown wavy hair slicked back with a few loose strands flying out in the wind. The look of desperation on his face stook out most of all. Why did he care so much? He didn’t know you, and you definitely didn’t know him. “Let me pull you up. Please,” he said to you between shaky pants. You stared at him for a bit before nodding. He slowly pulled you up with the string of his web, each move more careful than the last. As soon as your feet were planted safely back on the roof of the building, he wrapped you up in his massive arms. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t return it, still very confused about why he was so concerned. He was so big around your body though, you couldn’t help but feel a little comforted, feeling his still shaky breaths against the hairs of your neck. Soon after, he clicked on some buttons on his neon orange watch and led you into a portal.

The rest is history. You’re grateful he found you that day. It allowed you to meet so many people, Peter B., Jess, Gwen, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Margo. They all related to you and you felt like you could share things with them that you couldn’t do with anyone else. You had grown especially close to Peter and Jess, both of them having been in the game for a long time, just like you. They both knew how you felt, having lost so much and growing so tired after so many years. Peter even named you as Mayday’s godmother when she was born, a gesture that caused you to nearly kill him with your hug. Miguel though was different. He wasn’t nearly as social as the rest of your friends, but you found yourself having much more intimate moments with him (in more ways then one). You eventually found out why Miguel was so concerned for you the day you met. He had taken interest in your abilities early into looking for variants for his little “project”, but refrained from roping you into something so dangerous while you were still in your teens.

Once you were old enough though, he started paying more and more attention, hoping to catch you in a fight and recruit you then. But he was always pulled away with more important duties to attend to. That was until he witnessed your canon event. He had seen it happen so many times before through his scanners. It was going to happen. It had to in order for your universe to not collapse in on itself. But for some reason, yours hurt more than the rest to him. Especially how you coped with it. Seeing you wrap yourself up in her blankets and clothes broke his heart. He knew where this would lead to. That’s why he was there that day. To save you. He had to, or he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. You got your own watch immediately, along with your own room in the Spider Society headquarters. He stayed close with you for the first month of you being a member of the team. When he wasn’t out on missions, he was with you. You didn’t really know what to label you two as, but whatever was going on, you liked it. And he did too.

That is until Miles came into the picture. Once Miles was bit, all hell broke loose for Miguel. He was always in some alternate dimension catching some Spider-Man villain who got out and rangled them back over here, falling back over to you more beat up and bruised than the last time. You couldn’t imagine how much stress he was under, the fate of the entire multiverse up to him. You had some ways of helping him relieve his stress, but you wish you could convince him that he wasn’t alone in this. But nothing ever got through to him. He had become distant, aloof even. You tried bringing it up to Jess every so often, but she would just brush it off.

“That’s how he’s always been.” Not to you he hasn’t. This week has been hell though. With Spot making it over to Miles, Miguel had been going into rages all week. You had put up with it for now, but that was all about to stop. Watching how harsh he was being on Miles, throwing so many Spider-Men at an innocent boy, risking all of their lives in the process. Disregarding everything Gwen and Peter were feeling and then throwing Gwen back into her broken world with nothing. He had gone too far. No one else was going to stand up to him about it, so you knew it had to be you. Maybe he would listen, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He just needed to hear it.

“It’s not worth it you know.” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, stopping you in your tracks. “You know how stubborn he gets over these things,” said Jess, trying to convince you to save your breath. “I don’t care. I have to at least try,” you responded, monotonically. “I just don’t understand how you can follow him so blindly and not see what he’s doing is wrong.” “Because he isn’t wrong. I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna stand by and let some kid’s stupid decisions destroy another Earth,” Jess argued. “He’s just trying to save his dad, I can’t understand how that makes him such a bad person,” you said, finally turning around to face her, shocked when she was closer to you than expected.

“You know exactly why. Don’t be so naive, y/n,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me,” you said staring straight into her. She shrugged. “Then I can’t help you.” She began to walk away. You did to, until you heard her say. “You don’t know how much he cares for you.” You turned around to face her again, but her back was still to you, her head tilted ever so slightly to look at you. “If you really do care for the kid, watch what you say to Miguel right now. Cause you might just give him the final push he needs to do what needs to be done.” You didn’t give her a response, and just simply kept walking. You felt Jess’ eyes on your back as you entered the elevator to get up to Miguel’s office.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should’ve, as you tried to gather all of your thoughts and emotions together so even if he didn’t listen, your words would still stick with him in some way. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him (though your fists were telling you otherwise), but you did want him to be aware of what he’s done. Once the doors finally opened, all of that work flew out the window as rage took over your body again, seeing Miguel up there looking at the scanners. The fact that he looked just as normal as he always does made you furious. It’s like nothing happened.

“You know, I could hear you coming in from the lobby,” he said, almost stopping you in your tracks. You hated when he did that. Claiming that he knew what your every move was going to be. Like you were under his control or something. “Yeah, well then you must’ve heard me talking to Jess, which means you know exactly what this is about,” you shot back, stopping to where you could see him perched up there. “Why don’t you just save me the conversation about morality and just come up here and kick my ass already. It’ll save both of us time,” he said, not even taking his eyes off the scanners to look down at you. This only added to your fury. “That’s not what I’m here for Miguel, so don’t you dare try to twist my words here. What you did to that kid was fucked up and you know it.” “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you try to do anything to stop me?” he questioned.

“Because I’m not stupid Miguel. I’m not gonna try to take down hundreds of Spider-Men at once.” “Oh, cause you’re so much better than that?” This wasn’t like him at all. That gentle, kind, and caring Miguel you once knew was gone, taken over by some sort of personal vendetta he had against Miles. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this all needs to stop before it gets taken too far. You’re getting into a fight you can’t win. That kid’s strong and so are his allies. And if you go any further into this, I won’t be here to help you.” He stayed still and only turned his head to look at you. “And what makes you think that you’re so important to my plan that it’ll fall apart if you leave? Have you really become that pretentious?”

Your body froze. Have I really? No no no, that’s exactly what he wants. If you begin to doubt yourself now, you’ll stay and nothing will change. You knew you were right. He was trying to crumble you down, but you wouldn’t let that happen. “And you really think that one kid is going to ruin something that you’ve been working for for years? How insecure you’ve become.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back away from you. You did the same, wiping off your face in anger. “I hate it when you do tha-,” you said as you turned back around, but were cut off to find Miguel standing there right in front of you. He was close. Too close to your liking, although in any other circumstance you would’ve found this attractive.

He tilted his head up, but his eyes were down staring daggers into yours. You hated how much he tried to make himself seem more superior to you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, this time slower as if you were a child. “He’s just a kid Miguel,” you said in a low, quiet voice. “An anomaly. And a dangerous one at that.” “God Miguel, all he wants to do is protect his dad, do you know how insane you sound right now?” you said letting out a slight laugh when you finished. You backed away from him a little. “He doesn’t know how much damage he’ll do with this. Saving his father will only prolong the inevitable. His world will be gone within hours if he does this. All I’m trying to do is make him understand,” he tried to explain. “By trying to kill him.” “You always have to exaggerate the situation,” he said palming his face. “But that’s essentially what you’re trying to do isn’t it? Why not snuff out the problem entirely by taking him out!”

He signed and began to walk away while you were talking, bringing up your anger even more. “Yeah, use all the power you’ve accumulated over the years and just take out the small problem! Except this isn’t just a fly on the wall Miguel. This is a child! An innocent boy who didn’t ask for any of this to happen to him, just like how we didn’t. I get it, I’m sorry that this job is stressful, I really am. But that gives you zero right to act the way you are!” You were screaming at him at this point. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want your emotions to get the best of you. But he was being too stubborn. This was the only way you thought you could get to him. You might not have wanted to, but you needed to hurt him now. It was the only way.

“You can’t be so power blind that you refused to accept the fact that there could be a way around Captain Davis’ death. You said we saved Earth’s before, I’m sure we could do it again.” Your anger only kept rising when he kept walking away and didn’t respond. “This is a personal thing isn’t it?” you asked calmly. You knew it was working now when he stopped walking. “Yeah, it it. You won’t let Miles get his happy ending. Because why should he be pardoned of his burden while the rest of us have suffered so much. While you’ve suffered so much.” The answer to your question was confirmed when Miguel stayed silent. “Just because you didn’t get the life you wanted Miguel, doesn’t mean you have the right to stop other people from getting theirs.”

You knew you overstepped the line when Miguel turned around and started walking towards you, fury burning in his crimson eyes. “Yeah, so what! What if that is what this is all about! You should know better than anyone how much this job takes away from you!” he screamed at you, backing you up into a wall. “Why should he get to be let off so easily, while people like you and me have to suffer so much? Don’t try to turn me into the villain here when I know you’re thinking the exact same thing, y/n.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. You had wondered it at some points. “I won’t let you turn this onto me Miguel, this is about you,” you fired back. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. I know you’re thinking it. And you’re right. Why should Miles get let off so easily when you’ve lost so much.” He held your hands in his, trying to connect to you. “And you have mi vida. You’ve had so much taken from you and it’s unfair. Why should he only have lost one person when you’ve had three taken from you. Your brother, Peter, your moth-.”

He was cut off by your hand striking against his face in a harsh blow. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll keep those three out of them. I won’t let you drag their names through the dirt for something as stupid as this.” You both stood there for a while, both of your eyes looking towards the ground, hoping it would open up to swallow you both as an escape from this god awful conversation. You never wanted it to come to this. In all honesty, you cared for Miguel. You might’ve even loved him, if you were even capable of doing such a thing. You hoped he felt the same way about you, but in a job like this, he always had at least one wall up around you. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. You were too tired to keep trying for something that was most likely going to fall apart in the end. 

“You’re still going after him aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Miguel looked back up at you. “You can’t ask me not to. You know better than anyone why this is so important to me.” He moved his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed your forehead gently. You let it sit there for a minute out of habit before pushing it off your face. “And you must know why I can’t stay anymore then.” His shoulders dropped. “Whatever this thing between us is. It’s over. I can’t stay beside someone who can’t see what he’s doing is wrong.” Miguel’s dropped hand turned into a fist of anger. “Fine,” he spat in your face. “I don’t need someone like you in my way. You’re just a liability to this anyways.” He began to walk away from you back to his scanners. “Just don’t come crying back over to me when your little plan doesn’t work out, cause I won’t help you.” He used his webs to pull himself back up to the platform to keep looking for Miles. You stood there for a second, gathering yourself.

Five years. Out the door just like that. It bewildered you how easily a bond like you two had could be broken all because of one teenager. You began to make your way for the door before you said. “When this is all over…don’t try to find me.” He didn’t respond. Once the elevator doors opened, you rushed inside, desperate to get away from him. So many thoughts rushed through your head as the doors closed and you sunk down back to the lobby to leave. You didn’t have much of a plan. This could end up being a horrible idea. Your gut told you it was the right thing to do though. And that was enough for you. You walked out of the headquarters lobby with a new heart and a new mind, ready to take action for your new plan.

First though, you had to find Gwen.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: god that took longer than it should've. dw dw i'll do a part 2 if enough people ask for one. im not 100% sure how im gonna do a part 2 cause yk....idk how beyond the spiderverse is gonna go so tbh, we're just gonna make it go the way i want lmao. thanks for reading, ik this was kind of a long one lmao

NEXT CHAPTER

[fics-lovebot]

enhypen fic recs pt.2

main masterlist - enha fic recs pt. 1 - enha fic recs pt. 3 - enha fic recs pt. 4

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

pls remember to reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

home for the bitchless - ( @hannie-dul-set ) on going au. crack, rom-com, rev harem. hee + 02z + txt soobin and beomgyu. housemates! au. LMAOOOO this has to be one of the funniest things i´ve read on here fr

When you catch the bouquet at a wedding - ( @scented-morker ) ot7. FLUFF. PLEASEEE I LOVE THISS, i´ve never seen any writing with this concept!

sassy - ( @jaysng ) fluff, slice of life. husband!jay, wife!reader. AAAAAAAAAAA THIS IS SO CUTE JAY IS SUCH A GIRL DAD!! :((

dni (do not ignore) - (@boyfhee ) ot7 smau. crack, fluff, vvv lowk angst. lmaoooo you know i love me some dramatic bf!jake

noona - ( @hoonvrs ) smau, fluff, a lottt of crack, noona!reader, jungwons older sister!reader, younger!sunghoon, SDKJAJHAS THIS HAD ME UGLy CACKLING AT WORKKKK, im livinf for the banter, they´re all sO MEAN TO HIM LMAOO

crash and burn - ( @hannie-dul-set ) fluff, two-part rom-com, skater!au. loser!enha ft. loser!sunghoon, THIS IS SDSJFKSJ LMAOO, i love it :3

safe and sound - ( @thatfeelinwhenyou ) jungwon au, dystopian, post-apocalyptic survival, horror/thriller, slow burn, ANGST. you cannot even begin to UNDERSTANF THE CALIBRE OF THIS ART PIECE RIGHT HERE, THERE´S JUST NO WWWAAAYYYYYYY I´M READING THIS FOR FREEE!, MISS GIRL THIS NEEDS TO BE ON GOODREADS OR SUMM OH MY GAAAAWWDDDD

sent, delivered, loved - ( @woniedarlin ) angst, fluff. idol!jungwon, hybe-staff!reader. the way i ate this whole thing UPPPPPPPPPPPPP UGHHHHHH, plssilovedit

the weave to my love - ( @mygnolia ) fluff, classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers, spiderman!riki, class pres!reader. yes yes yes yes yes, this is what i´m talking about, I LOVE ITTTTT. the banter is deff my favorite thing, love the concept as well

pics i posted on my ig story for my crush to see - ( @lattegyu ) ig stories, fluff, crack, smau, non idol!jake

brought the heat back - ( @jayniks ) smut, idol!jake, giving him a bj while he´s on weverse live sdlkjlsd WHEWW

hello kitty meets batman - ( @star-sim ) fluff, angst, lowkey smut, dark horror creator youtuber!jake, downbad!jake, beauty vlogger youtuber!reader. fans had no idea their fav youtubers were in a long-term secret relationship. THIS IS SO GOOOOOODDDDDDDD plsss, i wish i could read it again for the first time

things we never said - ( @hoonigiris ) very angsty, jake au. it’s heeseung’s wedding, jake’s had too much to drink, and really, he just misses you. perhaps what happens after are the things he should never say. This is realllyy well written, i loved it

taste of heaven - ( @moonstruck-muses ) vamp au, smut, fluff, angst, vamp!jake, human!reader. he´s keeping his true nature a secret. THIS HAS IT ALLLLL and the smut is so gewd too, pls i would love the see another part of this

waiting on calls - ( @miumura ) fluff, angst, exes to lovers, second chance romance, ex bf!jake, non idol au, I LOVE THISSSSSSS, its so different and well written

ouch my head - ( @jakesangel ) loser desperate jake, smau, crack, fluff, "when y/n almost gets hit by a random hot basketball player who happens to have a huge crush on her" this is an on going series, so so so entertaining and fun to read lmao

everything but nothing - ( @cherryrikis ) ANGST (i love that shii), non-idol!au, break up talk, football cap!jake, fluffy happy ending, comfort, i rrrreally wished i could read what the rest of enha did to make yn go back to her and jake´s house omg

sidewalk theory - ( @mlyscha ) FLUff, bf!sunghoon,, wowww ahaha so WHAT IF KMS RN AND CHANGED THE TRAJECTORY OF EVERYONES LIFE?????? THIS IS SO LDKFJHSKDFHLKSJHDLKGSHJGHL :((( miss girl this made me want to ugly cry and scream bc why is it so fucking cute :(((((((((((

fixed comfort - ( @paarksunghoon ) fluff, non-idol!sunghoon, "the one where sunghoon’s drunk at a bar and misses his girlfriend a little too much",,, SSSSSSO WHAT IF I TELL YALL THiS IS THE MOST SLICE OF LIFE-ISH AU I´VE EVER READ?????? it´s so domestic and cute and fluffy and perfect :((

random ass texts - ( ( @saursoob ) fluff, crack, downbad!dunghoon

freaky bf!hoon texts - ( @enha-stars ) fluff, crack, very suggestive, downbad!sunghoon, mentions of pee kink,,,IKYFL

pictures of bf!sunghoon enha sends you - ( @enha-stars ) text, fluff

emergency contact - ( @hoonatic ) ANGSTYYYYYYYYY, fluff, exes to lovers. weeks after your breakup, sunghoon finds out that he’s still your emergency contact. i love it SO fucking MUCH plssss

the pussy eating competition - ( @karinasbaby ) sunghoon au, smut, HELLO???? THIS WHOLE CONCEPT IS CRAAZZZYYYYYYYYY, bc WDYM there´s a competition of how many times a guy can make a girl squirt under 5 minutes??????? IM- it´s good yall

crush - ( @star-sim ) fluff, crack, non-idol! bf! sunghoon, sleepy!hoon, dumb!hoon. AAAAAAAAA i love it :( so domestic and fun and cute and :((((((

[washthatheartoutwithsoapy]

☆ Natalie Scatorccio SFW Alphabet Headcanons ☆

Warnings: cursing, substances

A/n: my first real Tumblr post, so sorry if my rambling writing sucks

Masterlist!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Natalie loves affection once close. I think it's safe to say she didn't get much affection from her parents, so when she got with you, she couldn't get enough.

She not as affectionate in public, but she'll still hold your hand and fiddle with fingers.   When you're alone, like lying in your bed, she will be physically on top of you. She'll trace your skin and twist your hair, and give little kisses.

She's also an amazing listener.

She gives you really shitty gifts, like random stuff she finds on the literal street. Like a little chiped dino, or a note written on a random card she stole from her dad's old deck (oops).

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

A friendship with Natalie would probably start with bonding over music or just you always showing up. You'd definitely have to work hard to be friends with her, not because she doesn't want to be friends, but cuz she's not very open. Once you're close, she never thinks it's real, and she'll act nonchalant, but she really loves you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

DEFINITELY A CUDDLER. Like I said earlier, she will lay on top of you, all sprawled out. She likes laying between your legs with her face buried into your stomach, while you mess with her hair. Or if you need to be held, she'll be big spoon, and when I say her arm and legs are around you tight, I mean tight. There is not moving. Her face will be in your neck and her hand on your stomach.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Her idea of being settled looks a lot different than others. Being settled with her would look like a beat up place, probably apartment, with you, with a job that gets things paid, but still leaves time for you. She doesn't need a luxurious place, it's not what she's used to.

Cooking, she's alright. She aways had to fend for herself and make food, but its nothing special, and its normal for it to be a little burnt with her.

Cleaning does not exist to her. I mean, she's not disgusting, she changes her sheets and sweeps, but it is not organized. Clothes, makeup and other various shit all over the floor, the bed is never made, and a grimy ass mirror, etc.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

She would probably break up when she's pissed, at you, something else, or both, and storm away. She definitely regrets it and her methods.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

At first they hate the idea of commitment, but then she falls in love with you for the first time and she'll give you everything.

I don't think she give a shit about being married, but that doesn't mean she isn't committed. After a few years if you really wanted to get married, she'd do that for you, but in her head she doesn't get marriage or deem it necessary.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

She's definitely a rough houser, but she never hurts you, at least not on purpose. One time you were messing around and you hit your leg on your nightstand and got a huge bruise. She could not stop apologizing, she felt so bad. She's also gentle with you, with soft touches, especially when she's high.

Emotionally she's surprisingly gentle. If your upset, she there and supportive. She doesn't say much, just listens and hugs you, or anything else you need.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Natalie loves when she gets hugs. She's either really excited, with a big grin on her face, or she's burying her face in your shoulder. Those last awhile.

I don't think hugs are everyday, but whenever she needs it or you need, there's definitely hugs. Or when she's won a game, celebratory hugs!

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not quick. She's too scared to say it. So either you'd have to say it first and she would blush and say, "Love you too..." Or it will come out during some happy moment, and she didn't even mean to say it. She's so happy when you say it back.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Natalie is not a jealous person. When Jackie and Travis hooked up, the only thing she gave a fuck about was his well-being. Not to say if you were flirting with someone she wouldn't be jealous, she'd probably be more sad than anything and worrying she did something wrong.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

You definitely get the taste of alcohol and pot, which isn't always the greatest, but you get used to it. The skill makes up for it, she knows exactly what to do for the mood, but she usually takes it slow. Sometimes she breaks though and giggles.

She obviously loves kissing your mouth, but also: your neck, jaw, stomach, and shoulders.

She likes kisses on her: mouth, neck, forehead/head, cheek, and back.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

She's not very acquainted with Kids, and has never wanted them. But one time you guys were out and found a kid that got separated from their mom. You'd never seen her so gentle and caring while you looked for their parents. She gave them a little paper star.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Asleep, she'll stay in bed as long as possible, especially with you. She's definitely right up against you, hogging the bed, and her breath is terrible. Her eyeshadow also smudged, cuz she never takes it off before bed.

Once she's up, she's in the bathroom all morning, doing, God knows what. No breakfast.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Cuddling and smoking. She smokes almost every night, because it helps her sleep. Sometimes you guys go out an just walk the streets or go to the park and just talk and take pictures with your shitty camera. The night always ends with passing out in whatever shirt she'd been wearing all day, sometimes she's still in her jeans.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

She's not someone to drop her whole past on you immediately, its something that gradually happens. You figure out her family life pretty quickly though since she struggled with letting you come over after what happened with her dad. If you ask her something, she'll answer, maybe not immediately, but she will when she's ready.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

They don't get angry at you often as long as you don't make assumptions about her. If you say something that upsets her, she will make it known. She doesn't get mad for no reason though, even if she can get a little aggressive with others, not you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Natalie is a very good listener. Sometimes it doesn't look like it when you're rambling, and it looks like she's fallen asleep, but she listens. She will bring up details that you don't even remember telling her.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

One summer you brought her on your family vacation, and the two of you snuck out to the pool in the middle of the night. For some reason it holds a special place in her heart. You swam, laughed, and made out. She just never got to do shit like that with someone.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

What really gets her is when people talk shit. If you're not one to stand up for yourself she'll definitely tell them to shut the fuck up, along with some other not nice words. If you can do it she'll watch and pat you on the back after and ask if you're alright.

She doesn't expect anyone to be protective over her, and she prefers to stand up for herself. It makes her feel more in control, all she needs is your support. If someone said something behind her back, she'd be fine with you giving them a word.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

She's not someone to make a rose petal path. All she cares about is having fun.

On dates, which she doesn't love cuz she's broke, her only goal is to make you laugh and smile

Anniversaries, a little more effort, like picking some flowers that will be dead the next day. She'd make you a cassette tape with music that makes her think of you.

Gifts, like I said above, and those little trinkets she finds and gives you randomly. Its basically trash, but you love it.

She won't do any tasks unless you ask or they bother her. And she'll probably complain the whole time, but she'll do it for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Obviously addiction. If it bothered you, she wouldn't do them around you, but she likely wouldn't stop. Maybe she tried at first, but she couldn't quit.

She also chews her nails til they bleed. And she impulsively cuts her hair, she always has new layers. She's also bleached her hair ever since her dad's death, and it's also dead.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

She puts effort into her makeup and outfits for herself and no one else. She spent forever perfecting her eye makeup, to something she likes. To hear how she presented herself unsettled people, she'd be proud of herself. The eyeshadow is just a part of her now, she never washes it off, only touches it up in the morning.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

In other relationships, she didn’t give a shit, but you...if you left her you would be the one to break her heart. You guys separated for a week, and it was the worst week of her life (dramatically). She tried really hard after that.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

I heard someone say she's secretly good at math, and I totally see that. She doesn't tell anyone, but one day you see her math homework, and you make her help you. She complains the whole time and doesn't show her work. She sucks at explaining, so you just stop asking her for help.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Anyone who talks shit. If her partner is gonna talk behind her back or be disrespectful, she's done. Warning and she's done.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

I said before she always smokes at least a little before bed. She also never undresses or only partially. She doesn't own pajamas. I guess we saw her in pajama like clothes in the cabin, but she wore them like all day too. So I stand by what I said, she doesn't give a shit. She lays on her stomach and takes up the whole bed, which is in total disarray.

A/n: thx for listening to my ramble♡💋🙊

[janitorhutcherson]

Bf!Futturman Headcanons (Future Man)

there is NOT enough future man content! allow @dollfacedalls and i to fix that :p these r some headcanons we came up with real quick. if there are typos, sorry guys lolz. its 3am and i just typed this up bc i felt like we needed some josh futturman content. enjoy the sweaty loser boyfriend vibes!

Bf!Futturman who tries to be flirty and sexy but is unsuccessful. You've been out all day, and you've just gotten home. The moment you walk through the door, Josh is in front of you in a pair of dinosaur boxers with a huge, cheesy smile. You know why, and you know what he's wanting. You can't help but grin like an idiot as you put your bags down, walking towards him to place your hands on his hips. Before you can do so, Josh attempts to lean against the coffee table in a sexy fashion. Of course, as expected, he loses his balance, his feet falling out from under you. He lets out a yelp as his elbow hits the coffee table, your eyes wide as you run to assist him. "Baby," you gasp as you kneel. "Are you okay?" you mumble as he repositions himself, now leaning on his hurt elbow on his side, the toothy grin back on his face. "Yeah.. fine now that you're here, sexy," he says, wiggling his eyebrows as you roll your eyes, hitting his shoulder.

Bf!Futturman who is so clingy that he misses you so much, making him even want to be you. You two live together, Josh finally having moved out of his childhood home to get an apartment with you. You were at work, and Josh was upset. He felt like his other half was missing. It wasn't fair that he was off and you weren't. So.. naturally, he did what any man who was missing his partner would do -- he tried on your clothes, sprayed himself in your perfume, listened to your favorite songs, and watched your favorite TV show. When you walked into your apartment to him sitting on the couch in your dress, the apparent scent of your cherry-scented perfume in the air, Dance Moms on the TV, you gasped. The moment his eyes locked with yours, Josh froze, his eyes wide, not really sure what to say. Your eyes darted to the empty bottle on the table; your lonely boyfriend had drained your expensive perfume. Josh's eyes followed yours to the bottle as he shot up, walking over to you with raised eyebrows. "I swear, baby, I- I'll buy you a new bottle," he awkwardly muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. 

Bf!Futturman who wants an ugly cat with you. No, not just a cat, but an ugly one. He wanted to find the most hideous, rattiest, mangy-looking cat the two of you could find. At first, you were somewhat frustrated with how adamant he was about the situation. You would've been much happier with a fluffy kitten with pretty blue eyes and soft fur. But no, you loved your boyfriend so much you'd given in. Josh convinced you he wanted one because 'nobody wants the ugly ones.' He claimed it was an action from the goodness of his heart, an action to save a poor kitty. He never would've said it out loud, but the reality was he didn't think the name Barthalomeow fit a pretty kitten. You ended up with a fluffy cat with huge brown eyes bulging from its skull. Its bottom teeth hung out of its mouth, and its brown fur stuck up in every which way... Yeah... it was hideous for sure, but Bathalomeow loved you and his kitty dad so that you couldn't be too mad.

Bf!Futturman gets so sucked into his game that he doesn't notice anything around him. When you weren't around, and he wasn't working, Josh did NOTHING but play Biotic Wars. He'd be so sucked into the game for hours, going to disgusting extremes to avoid having to press pause. When you were home, though, he'd only dedicate an hour or two a day to the game. This usually didn't bother you, but one particular day, you were feeling incredibly desperate for his attention, his eyes locked onto his TV screen as his fingers moved stealthily across his keyboard. You felt like you'd attempted everything. At first, you just tried his name. No luck. Then, you tried tapping his shoulder. Barely flinched. Your next action was more severe, seeing if your words would stir anything in him. "Baby," you called out, your annoyance apparent. "Hm?" he hummed with a half-assed response. "I'm going to my other man's house in a few. Is that cool?" you said from behind him, sprawled out on the bed with your eyebrows raised, your eyes throwing daggers toward the back of his head. "Yeah, whatever, babe, I'll see you later," he mumbled quickly as a loud groan left your lips. "Jesus christ," you mumbled. "Gonna jump off of a bridge, Joshy," you sang out jokingly, to which Josh responded, "Okay, baby." It felt hopeless, that was, until you had an idea. You threw your shirt off, your bare chest exposed as you pranced over to him, standing in front of him. Josh glanced over at you for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as he reached his hand up to grasp your boob before looking back to his screen. "Mm, give me another hour," he hummed, his attention once again back on Future Man. Nope, didn't work. You'd revisit in an hour when you were his girlfriend again, and it wasn't his controller getting all of the hand action.

Bf!Futturman that attempts to cook for you. Josh could not cook. This was a given considering in order to cook, you had to have good coordination and be able to somewhat follow directions. Unless in video game form, it was difficult for Josh to do both. You didn't mind, enjoying making dinner and snacks for the two of you. It wasn't until one night Josh wanted to surprise you. He'd watched a YouTube video online on how to make a baked chicken with broccoli, mashed potatoes, along with a few other things. He didn't think twice about the difficulty, already feeling like a chef as he turned off his phone. He was soon proven very wrong, as about an hour later, you walked into the door to the smell of burning meat and smoke filling your kitchen. Josh stood in the center of it all, surrounded by far too many pans for him to be making such a simple dish, many of them filled with what looked like pure charcoal. He looked at you with sad eyes, a pout on his lips. "I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to make a mess. I really just wanted to do something nice for you like you do for me," he said softly as he walked over to you. You embraced him into your arms, pressing a kiss to his head. "Hey, 's okay baby, we can just order takeout," you giggled, deciding to turn the oven off and leave the mess for another time. 

Bf!Futturman who has no filter and lacks an understanding of time and place. The two of you were inside an art museum. You pulled out your phone to snap a cute selfie. The moment he saw the camera, he pulled you close, stiffening his entire body as he stared into the camera with a blank expression. You snapped the picture, reviewing it afterward as your smile dropped. "Seriously, Josh?" you asked as you raised your eyebrows, showing him the photo where he looked both uninterested and terrified all at once. He snickered with amusement, his nose scrunching up. "God, people are going to think I kidnapped you," you muttered under your breath. He nudged you with his shoulder, raising his eyebrows up and down. "That's because you did!" he exclaimed as he pretended to yank out of your grip. People began to stare, and Josh just snickered as you smacked his shoulder. "Shut up, Futturman!" you gritted through your teeth, rolling your eyes. God, you loved him, but oh, how he pissed you off sometimes.

[sukunastoy]

Only Love Can Hurt Like This, Prologue (CEO! Sukuna x Fem! Reader, MDNI)

Next Part, here!

⭐This is a redo of my story, Shameful Attraction. I've rewritten it as I originally wanted so long ago. I was trying to write it to appease people and once I let go of that and just started to enjoy the story for itself, the flow became a lot better. For those who read it before, there are major changes you'll notice upon the next upload. For those who haven't read it at all before, I hope you enjoy. <3⭐

⬇️PLEASE READ BEFORE STARTING THE STORY! ⬇️

Modern age AU, no curses. Sukuna still has his tattoos, but his face ones are carefully hidden. This story is set in Japan, and I've done my best to impliment real life into it. For example, tattoos in Japan are still taboo, and people associate them with the yakuza, so its not normal to see everyday people have them. Though I know I won't have all the details of modern day life in Japan correct, I hope you still enjoy.

Pairings: CEO Sukuna x Fem Reader Content/Trigger Warnings: This story has a lot of abuse in it. Reader is in an abusive relationship with her fiance, Toji. There are several moments in the story that highlight this including, but not limited to, acts of violence and aggression towards reader, including name calling, shoving, punching, sexual assault, being manipulated, unwanted bondage and containment, food denial, being drugged etc. Reader is thin, not allowed to eat a lot per Toji's rules in regards to her weight. If she feels like she is gaining weight, she will make herself throw up after meals. Reader also struggles through depression though often hides it through masking, however there are ocassional thoughts of suicide when some scenarios are too extreme to cope with. She's scared to leave, assumes she could never get away, so just deals with it all as she doesn't know what else to do. Wordcount: 2k+

Prologue

Present Day ~ Friday, 10:23 PM

It was happening again. There was nothing you could do to stop it. No amount of shame or fear could keep you from hiding in the bathroom at 10:23 PM, your thumb hovering over the open message icon on your phone. You knew who it was, the person you desperately craved.

The sender's name was your best friend and coworker, Yuna.

You always talked to Yuna; sometimes you even stayed with her after work was over in the affluent area of Tokyo, Roppongi Hills. There were even the rare times you'd stay overnight after work because you felt like you couldn't see each other long enough. At least, it's who your fiancé thought you were talking to and seeing. If he ever found out otherwise, well, you weren't sure you even wanted to think about what might happen.

Toji would get annoyed at you for wanting to talk so much with one of your friends, and he always demanded to know what you two did or talked about all the time, which you offered very detailed lies in response to his questions. It's not like you came to these decisions lightly. You stuck it out faithfully for almost seven years before giving up and needing someone else to make you feel like a beautiful and worthy woman again. To know someone else could appreciate you and offer excitement in your life. To not hit or yell at for everything was a huge plus also. Even if it was only temporary. Even if they didn't care about you in the same way you cared for them, you still needed whatever you could get.

Listening carefully in the silence of the night, you could still hear Toji snoring from your tiny, shared bed down the hall, and finally, your shaking thumb pressed onto the screen, closing your eyes as you felt the little bzzt of the message opening.

Swallowing tightly before accepting the message visually, you peeked an eye open and felt your face flush with a tingling heat that traveled down into your core, making your thighs squeeze together tightly as you sat on the edge of the tub, breath hitching at the photo and caption that now had you uncontrollably mesmerized.

Clicking the lock button on the side of your phone you dropped it down onto the soft rug below, your shaking hands now covering your face before going through your hair and you let out a long quiet breath.

Your heart pounded with the image in your mind, and what usually happened after you got one of these messages, there was no stopping it, and you hoped it never would.

Finally calming your nerves at the moment, you picked your phone back up, only to have that heated chill drop to your stomach again as there was another message to open now. Biting your lip, you opened it and at this point, you could nearly hear your own elevated heartbeat.

-"Aren't you going to answer me, doll? I know you're still awake."-

You covered your mouth with your free hand to try and quiet the excited breaths escaping your mouth, scrolling up slowly to review the previous message.

-"I know it's late, and to be honest, I really don't care. I want you here, need you beneath me in my bed where you know you belong. Letting a real man fuck you. You know he can't make you feel like I can." Photo attached: It was of that enormous bulge desperately trying to push through dark sweatpants that were loosely tied at the hip, shirt lifted and held up by sharp canines to show off that ridiculously built body, and sinful black tattoos that hugged the skin.-

Damn him. A quiet whine churned in your throat as your thighs clenched together more tightly in that shameful desire. He was right though. Toji could never fuck you as good as Sukuna. It was so embarrassing. Embarrassing how easy it was for Sukuna to turn you completely limp in his arms, and how quickly you'd lose yourself beneath him. Embarrassing because of how loud and lewd your moans were. Embarrassing because of how much you wanted this arrogant playboy.

Knowing another message would come through if you didn't reply, you quickly responded with the only thing you could think of at the moment, being so flustered and already getting dumb over dick through a teasing photo. -"I still have that report I have to finish this weekend, I don't think you'd be too happy if I don't complete it by Monday, Sukuna."-

As soon as you sent the message, it was as if there was an answer already waiting, and your phone almost immediately vibrated in response. -"Just stay the whole weekend with me, I don't even care anymore at this point. You can finish that here after I'm finished with you. I've already transferred the train ticket vouchers to you. The last one leaves at 10:51 pm. I'll pick you up at the station when you arrive. Just don't keep me waiting, my pretty, little thing."-

Running a hand over your forehead that felt a bit damp from nervousness, you shoved your phone into your pocket and let out a quiet but heavy breath. Having an affair with your boss was undoubtedly making you the happiest you've felt in years, but still, at the same time, it made you so frightened and ashamed. Especially since it felt like you were getting more attached to him, though you knew Sukuna wasn't looking for a serious relationship of any kind. He had made that perfectly clear. Painfully clear. You weren't the only woman in his life that he entertained, and you knew you wouldn't be the last. You were just fortunate to have his attention, for now.

He certainly knew how to make you feel like the only woman in the world though, despite knowing you were just sharing him. At least he kept his wandering eyes and flirtatious comments under check when the two of you were spending time together. Meanwhile, Toji acted like the biggest flirt in the world with every woman he encountered, even with you at his side.

Toji could be so gentle and loving when he wanted to be, but it never lasted long, and it was only when he was rewarding you for properly behaving. There'd always be something to set him off or some woman nearby he couldn't keep his eyes off of. You were certain he had been sleeping with other women for years, the way he acted around some of them proved it. Despite your supsicions, you had stayed faithful and loyal. Even through the beatings and constant derogatory things he called you. You weren't sure if it was because you had morals, or because you were terrified of him.

So long as you were obedient like a trained dog, Toji wouldn't hurt you. Mentally or physically. Most of the time you were too frightened to fall out of line, knowing how easily he could knock you out, or break an arm; something he's done before in a fit of drunken rage. He definitely scared the shit out of you, and cheating or lying like this was enough to make you shake in fear for your safety.

But, Sukuna never asked you to officially stay for several days like this at his own home. Sure, you've taken work trips together, but even though you gave yourself to Sukuna in any way he wanted, most of those were strictly professional and work related. So, as terrified as you were of your fiancé finding out, you couldn't pass up this type of opportunity. Maybe Sukuna was getting more attached to you as well? 

"I have no desire for a relationship of any kind beyond this. Don't get any hopes or ideas, I simply enjoy what we have, and it wont ever change."

Doubtful.

Even knowing his attitude towards your relationship, it wasn't always easy to keep your mind free of hopeful thoughts, unfortunately. The way he'd hold you so close or kiss you so gently at times brought such confusion it hurt almost worse than any slap from Toji.

You carefully snuck out of the apartment, praying to god that Toji wouldn't hear you. You'd have to come up with some lie at some point, but for now, you just wanted to see the man you desperately longed for. The train station was only a couple of minutes away from your apartment, so it was a quick walk down the road. Approaching the kiosk to pick up your tickets, you held the voucher barcode on your phone underneath the scanner and it printed out a set of tickets for you to board the train. 

Knowing the ride would be a little time-consuming, roughly over an hour, you stared aimlessly out the window for most of the trip, your leg bouncing in anticipation. You tried not to think of all the shameful things you were going to let this beast of a man do to you through the rest of the night, and how you craved every bit of it. It was the only time you didn't have to think or worry, you could just let Sukuna use you as he wanted. 

Nearing the destination, you clicked on Yuna's name in your contacts and took a quick selfie, angling the camera so your pushed-up boobs were clearly visible as well. Before Sukuna, you could never feel confident enough to take such pictures. Even when Toji demanded some risqué photos, you couldn't feel comfortable doing so. Sending them to Sukuna was exciting, however. Being satisfied after a few images, you attached a message, -"I'm coming. ❤"-

-"Yeah, you'll be screaming that soon enough."- he replied nearly instantly.

God, you could hear his cocky chuckle through the text. -"Please, 'cause I seriously need it. This whole week was awful."- You type out, still feeling the throbbing, dull pain in your side where Toji jammed his fist into your ribs for talking back to him. -"Yeah? Well, glad I had you come over then. I'll make sure to fuck all of the stress out of you."-

He sent another photo and you nearly dropped your phone once it popped up on the screen as you weren't expecting to see his large hand tightly wrapped around his hardened cock. You let out a near silent yet audible whimper as your eyes fixated on it. A shudder traveled through your body as you recalled how amazing he could make you feel.

You were just grateful Sukuna asked you to come over tonight, and it not be mainly for work, considering you and Toji had another fight about his past financial problems that somehow became your main responsibility to fix. At the time of your engagement when you were young, dumb, and in love, you had agreed to put all of his bills in your name and his credit debt as soon as possible so he could catch a break and start rebuilding his finances and you'd be able to help with the payments then.

Of course, through some miscommunication, you were responsible for ALL the payments now, and you couldn't keep up. To make it worse, he kept taking out new loans for who knows what and it seriously terrified you. Loan sharks were nothing to mess with. They'd give you anything you want, but if you didn't pay it back, they weren't afraid to get rough for their money. No point in calling the cops either, cause the cops were scared of them half the time too.

Seeing the city lights get closer, you let out a deep breath of suspense, knowing within the next few moments or so you'd be getting fucked stupid in one of the very expensive, luxury penthouses of the seductively, dominant man you met only a few months ago.

You knew the moment you had literally run into him while rushing down the sidewalk, causing his hot morning coffee to spill onto you and all over his expensive suit that things were going to change in your life, even if just for a little while.

End Prologue

I hope you enjoyed! <3 I'm happy to actually be writing this story again. I truly LOVE comments so please leave some! They make me smile so much. ヾ(•ω•`)o

I'll do my absolute best to keep this story updated, unlike before. I promise!

Next part, here!

[with-my-calamitous-love]

what should’ve been you

t. todoroki x reader (kind of). for his birthday <3

after paying a visit to touya’s grave on his birthday years after his passing, you meet someone unexpectedly. angst/comfort @crushmeeren @suksatoru

also, based off of this post here

inspired by bigger than the whole sky

it had been years since touya's life had slipped out of your grasp, from beneath the high-tech glass chamber that was nothing more than a futile attempt to save his life. an almost admirable attempt from his father, but ultimately pointless, considering how much of his life had already wasted away into ashes.

even in the aftermath, no words appear to you, kneeling on the soft grass in front of his headstone.

touya todoroki, it simply says. no loving messages, no heartfelt anecdotes, just the name that had been stolen from him in his childhood. it's almost as if his family had tried to return him the thing he chose to rid himself off.

his sister probably chose the location- 5 minutes away from their household, just nearby a shallow pond. she likely thought about making it accessible to her parents and brothers, though whether or not they took advantage of the location is unknown to everyone. this time of winter touya would have loved- the frost blanketing the water, snow glistening through the sky, but his family probably didn't know that when they chose the spot.

the simple though has salt streaming out your eyes, looking to the barren stone that marks his final resting place. if touya were here, he'd scoff, tell you that there's "nothing to cry about," and pull you into his arms. he'd probably give you his jacket, reminding you of his immunity to the cold and your shit immune system. if he were here, he'd be more than just a short time, more than all the love in the world you could describe.

but somehow, in someway, it's all over, all out to sea.

though, you're not as alone as you may believe. funny how two people can stand meters away from one another, mourn the same person, and still feel worlds away.

shouto thinks its funny, at least. though he can't find much humor in this situation- he never could.

you turn your head, acknowledging touya's little brother. its shocking to see anyone visit this grave. it's even more shocking that its the family who touya believed hated him.

theres a beat of silence between the two of you, though the understanding is there. every single thing to come has turned into ashes.

you expect questions: "who are you? why are you here? did you love him? can you tell me what you loved about him, so i can know him too?"

but shouto, now a young adult, who has had time to think but never fully heal, skips the interview. instead he walks towards you, two-toned eyes asking for permission before he sits next to you.

"...he talked about you."

"...did he?"

"a lot." he almost chuckles.

"thats... surprisingly sweet of him." you hum, noticing the snow, crestfallen on his headstone. you want to reach in, to ask if he's cold, though you know he'd probably call you an idiot for worrying and proceed to worry more about you.

and the fact that shouto knows you- maybe not your name, or your age, but knows that you had held a place in touya's life, speaks volumes.

then you look at shouto- the perfect one, the one endeavour had abused and destroyed everything over. you know that look in his eyes, wanting to know what could have been, what he could have been, if he had touya. he's a pro-hero, a healed person, a good person, and at the end of the day, he's still a little kid needing his big brother.

"...i'm never going to meet him." he whispers to himself, small words hitting so huge.

you were blessed with meeting touya- the warm, loving, asshole-ish idiot that ultimately just craved love. you had seen of glimpse of what could have been, and for the rest of your life, you'd be haunted by gratefulness, knowing you had been one of the few people touya todoroki revealed himself to, truly and unconditionally.

shouto, however, didn't have that. and it shows in his eyes, in his hands, in his heart.

words fail, but your hand on his shoulder isn't lost on him. your tears spill and his eyes screw shut, neither knowing what to say, but finding solace in the silence.

touya was the loss of your life, an absence that'll haunt you forever. he's a burning memory, his tattoo kisses all over your heart, and shouto? he's got so much to pine about, so much to live without. he was years too late to save what could have been. you both were. you all were.

then, shouto says the unthinkable: "i named my son after him."

you blink, not expecting that, turning to face him. there isn't a ghost of a lie in his eyes, and that's enough to piece it together for you.

he immediately goes to defend himself, realizing what it sounds like- that he was trying to honor a horrible person, a villain.

"i just... i wanted to remember him." a tear slips down his cheek, but he doesn't care. "i wanted to save his name."

he waits for you to answer, expecting anger, or hurt, or simple disbelief. but touya would be proud of how easily you surprise people, probably smiling to himself from wherever he is.

"that's beautiful, shouto." you smile, and so does he.

"you think?" he tries to confirm, though you both laugh a little, knowing that it is, indeed, a beautiful act. so you talk and sit together. he listens to memories of touya, reconciling an image of him in his mind: touya, who loves winter. touya, who loves soba and hates waking up too early in the morning. touya, who always shows up late to every family gathering and acts like a teasing piece of shit to all his siblings, but who would burn down the world for them. touya, who would have been everything. who should have been.

touya, who was everything to you in the short time he was there.

touya, but this time shouto's son, being the person the part of him that could be saved.

[capslocked]

DIPLOMACY

male reader x kim minju

7k words

For those not paying attention - of which there seems to be an increasing number - it’s not that she doesn’t have the pedigree. But just shy of getting into that storied history or into the nitty-gritty of her curriculum vitae, the only thing that really matters is:

"This all seems a little beneath me." 

It’s another day of this. Of you, of her, of trying to gather the mien of someone who isn’t utterly disarmed by Minju’s usual, beautiful, challenging self. Which, let’s be honest, is always an uphill battle.

Minju nearly pouts, flipping through a copy of the dossier idly from the other side of the desk in a gesture that reads both bored and dismissive and every little thing it needs to annoy you.

"Look," you offer up, graciously diplomatic all things considered, "it's about finding the right springboard, to something else more… substantial."

"Or to something else, you know, beneath me." Her red lips turn down ever so slightly. She doesn't seem so interested in playing ball on this one. And, for you, amounts to something of a huge problem.

See, Minju doesn't quite understand how the working world really, actually works. That the carrot that's dangled in front of her is your carrot just as much as it is hers - that you stand to lose out just as badly. That it's both of your asses on the line if things fall apart and Minju's shortsighted insistence to only work those certain roles befitting a name like hers puts that all at risk.

"Maybe you can tell me something,” you start, coming across more curt than you possibly intended - but not by much, “how many of your former cohorts have had their career aspirations line up with reality, Miss Kim?"

“I’m picky, not naive,” she sighs, not missing a beat, and you watch her dark hair cascade gently down her shoulder when she reaches a hand back to unfix her loose ponytail from its hair clip.

“You might see how I can get the two confused.”

“Then spare me the lecture,” says Minju.

Though she says nothing else, an unspoken you already get paid too much for that hangs in the air.

The tricky part is that no matter what else Minju does, her contract has some non-negotiable clauses to them that no talent has before, or will likely get afterwards. Things that cannot be broken. Like the requirement of her making x number of media appearances, and she gets to approve all of them.

Or that her agent's take home comes from a fixed fifteen percent of her gross earnings, with further incentives when her roles hit specific milestones. But with her refusing projects like the ones in the dossier before you, it leaves you in the unenviable position of losing out on your guaranteed fixed income or trying to convince your diva talent to do what it is she ought to be doing.

The truth is that there’s quite a long list of things no one has had the guts to say ‘no’ to yet.

And, well, it's rather simple and obvious when you look at her:

Minju is that particular blend of A-lister gorgeous. The special look that’s all kinds of mesmerizing and magnetizing, in full bloom - that makes you feel like you're suffocating in beauty. Like if she said come here, you would go; the type where a single look is all it takes and then - just like that - she's got your number forever.

Because everything about her is tailored - from her clothes to her perfect porcelain features. And they made her that way for a purpose: to sell records. (Which, that's exactly what they did.) You can hardly blame the people in power over there, wanting what's best, in a position where everyone would kill for a taste, or even just a glimmer of possibility.

"I don't suppose the part of the governor’s neglected wife is capturing your imagination.” You push the dossier closer, and she doesn’t so much as look at it. “It’s this year’s big budget political thriller, a shoo-in for awards.”

“You mean the one who ends up in a lot of very steamy shots on the apartment’s rooftop pool. Maybe I’m mistaken, but you can’t really unshow your tits.”

"This isn't about being above, Miss Kim, it's about being well regarded; it’s about proving you’re easy to work with,” you argue. “We could-"

"Find a better use of my time?" she cuts in, closing the dossier shut. There's a long moment in which she's looking you over, her gaze sizing up every little inch.

"Your big break won't happen just because you ask for it." You grimace a bit, hating to tell it like it is, but not really wanting to just coddle her either. "But listen - we work together, one project at a time - we can build up to it."

Minju crosses her arms with a loud hmph. "And what are you going to do if I decide not to accept these projects?"

There’s enough edge in her voice that it gives you pause.

"If," she says again pointedly, a teasing little grin tugging at her lips.

So - actually, another thing: when you start digging into the details, there’s more problems than just what can be seen at the surface. Which perhaps it’s too reductive, but essentially everything between you and the talent sitting on the other side of your desk is not quite so straightforward. It was never about Minju doing the best she could for either of your careers; it was about Minju making sure her needs were taken care of, no matter what.

Months ago, thanks in part to the way Minju filled out this tiny black excuse of a cocktail dress, and as a compromise of sorts, there’s an uncharacteristic mistake you ended up making. Or two or maybe a couple.

Because there’d been the perfect backdrop - an end of year party, beautiful dresses and suits, lots and lots of champagne, the kind of jovial mood that inspired one drink too many - and then you and her, taking off down one of the hallways, towards the exit.

Of course, you ended up exactly where neither of you should have ever been - where the snow was falling gracefully and melting into the pavement, behind a private accessway at the back of the venue, somewhere dark and dingy and dripping with a smell reminiscent of garbage; somewhere your hands had gripped firm fistfuls of Minju’s waist before you shoved her up against the back of the building. 

In short:

You remember how she gasped when her palms hit the brickwork, how you figured you may as well give her everything she wants.

(So what, it was one time, you hear yourself explaining, mildly repentant, and to say that it’s complicated the matter is a massive fucking understatement.)

In the interest of full disclosure, you tell her, “what exactly did you have in mind?”

"That maybe," she hums, tongue flicking out over her lips before she purses them thoughtfully. "You should persuade me a little better."

"And let’s suppose, I don’t do any of that," you persist.

"It'd be a shame, wouldn't it, having such a promising future cut short so early? If word got out. From such a respectable agency too, of all places. Couldn't live with yourself," Minju remarks, leaning forward on her elbows until her eyes are level with your own. “Come to think of it, it’s the kind of thing that could totally, like, end your career.”

But as she sits there, arching that perfect brow again, you don't feel so good about the whole thing. You take another look at her - which, your mistakes start there, if nowhere else - at the girl that is somehow not the airheaded starlet she’s supposed to be. No, she’s calculating. A rarity, though you do know the type: here’s a girl who just happened to take her brains for granted in the years she was pampered by the industry - the same one that fattened on her only to later spit her out. And that thought, the look of cold intellect in her eyes and the slight upward curl at the corner of her mouth, has you frozen just a bit stiff.

She takes a key card from her clutch, and throws it onto the desk in front of you.

“Minju,” you caution, and there’s a taste of danger on each syllable of her name - more of a warning for yourself than you can conceive of it ever being for her.

"I'm only suggesting" - she’s watching you nearly fucking choke, amused - "what's best."

And when the lines get muddied between the two of you, that's exactly the issue. What's best. As though this was always Minju's aim. Maybe you've read it wrong, maybe you've gotten too lost in your own delusions, maybe - maybe, it doesn’t matter -

"For work," she adds, at which point her knee bumps yours playfully beneath the desk, leaving the suggestion open, and the implication unmistakable. "Whatever's required."

Here, you should definitely tell Minju no. Say no. Say: you're a professional, and getting involved with her, romantically, officially, personally - whatever - would lead to nothing but disaster. That’d be the responsible thing probably. It’d be generous to say you end up getting even halfway there:

"There's rules against this, you know."

Minju tips her head. “Why ever would there be rules in place against doing your job?”

She thinks that if she feigns being clueless, you'll bite, which -

“Against me folding you over this desk and fucking you until your forget your name.”

"My apologies," she practically coos, knowing that she’s not only made progress, but that she’s wrapping you around her finger. She is a bright girl after all. “You might see how I can get the two confused.”

At that, you figure, the only real move, to be perfectly blunt, is to play Minju at her own game -

To convince her to bend, just a little. To persuade her. So you lean closer, you start to promise, with your face just next to hers:

"You want me to show you how I might handle an uncooperative talent? Would that do it for you, huh?"

And now if that isn’t enough to earn you a whole look, one that’s equally a challenge and a triumph; you watch as she bites the inside of her cheek, not that she can help the smirk creeping across her pretty mouth, a grin full of want and need and all those dangerous, thrilling thoughts that're probably too predictable given your unique sliver of history you’ve already carved out.

She arches that perfect brow of hers once more, toying with the corner of her lip between her teeth. 

You navigate around your desk to hand her your pen, with instructions that are perfectly clear: "then for once in your life, be useful, and sign on the fucking dotted line."

And her whole act falls apart just like that.

She’s humming almost pleasantly to herself as you settle in flush behind her, sinking into you just a little when your hand arrives at her waist, another carding through her hair. “Here,” you point out, watching her name materialize in ink on the document - pressing your lips to the nape of her neck each time she finishes penning out an exaggerated curl of a u.

“And here.”

“And here.”

“And here."

She signs again - and again - and that merits a reward; she’s good when she wants to be. Persuasive when she needs to be.

You can hear her murmur your name when your mouth slips just beneath her jaw, when you mark your next path across the bare skin of her shoulder and when she gets started on the last page of the documents, it happens just like this -

The pen drops from her fingers at some point, tumbling onto the desktop with a clack that might as well be a round leaving the chamber of a starting pistol. The office door isn't even locked and you have half a mind to check on the blinds, but the idea of some desperate executive running face first into this scene - where you’re smoothing your hands down the fabric of Minju’s top, down the rise of her jeans, fiddling slowly with the button at her waist - it holds an unfortunate sort of appeal; those blinds, they're mostly closed anyway. And at this hour of the afternoon, well - maybe it’s a little more clear why Minju asked to reschedule this meeting in the first place.

At first, it’s just a  few of your fingers dipping under the waistband of her pants, following the curve of her hip, her thigh, then inward, and when you reach down to find her already burning up in anticipation, she inhales sharp, a noise that makes you groan in turn, low, right into the hollow behind her ear. Minju, to her credit, is absolutely willing, so very helpful and - as you pinch the soft, tender skin at her hip, she's saying something but you haven't quite paid it a moment's mind.

Her head turns, eyes looking up at you ever-so-slightly-more-vulnerable than their usual mischief and calculation, and there’s a hint of a demand dancing on her tongue, ready and waiting; she moves her leg upwards just a few inches, settling to rest her knee on top of the tabletop, a calculated little pose, angling her hips so you can sink your hand lower, closer, press your fingers into the lace over her hot cunt even deeper.

Here you figure you're probably ruining the fabric, drenching it in her own slick as you work two, then three fingertips in tight circles. You’ll ruin it, and you’ll ruin more - ruin everything and take what you're owed. As her breath hitches again, in some way that makes your senses come to life: you can feel her skin become taut and tense, gooseflesh rising when your hand untangles from her hair and slides up under her shirt, can hear the steady rush of blood in your ears, her pulse quickening, the heart in her chest beating rapid -

(She can pretend all she wants that this was an attempt at extortion. She can pretend she’s not an easy read; that she doesn’t like being easy for you, when she’s hot and whimpering and aching so wet, creaming on your fingers when you haven’t even gotten her pants off.)

- as if every part of her wasn't made for this, as you lay out your first real proposal:

“Do you remember what I asked you? The first time, right after you signed on, when you were so good for me up against the bricks in the alley?”

Minju chokes out an affirmative when you toy with her pussy where she’s craving the shape of anything, but, boy, are the rough pads of your fingers more than up to the task.

"I remember you almost couldn't answer, you didn't dare want to admit that it's what you needed - isn't that right?"

She moans with a voice thick as honey when a couple more fingers brush up against her wet lips and fuck, she does look breathtakingly good; she's exquisite, she's irresistible - the image of a living wet dream.

"Say it, baby," you croon, her voice beginning to melt a bit at the edges, her own heat burning her resolve up from the bottom up as you tug sharply at a string on her lace.

Minju sighs. Arches into your touch.

Because you’re settling into this torturous pattern, where you draw inwards, closer, so close to the little bundle of nerves, her cunt flexing and rippling hungrily when your fingers flick once or twice around it, only for her to wince just slightly as your fingers trace down towards her entrance to start all over again -

Minju steels herself, drawing in a heavy breath past her teeth. “You asked how rough you could be.”

There's something so painfully wicked, how her voice falters there - but then your own voice is rasping right back in a similar caliber of depravity.

“Hm. That’s pretty close to how I remember it.” After all, you are always taking care of Minju - her concerns, her contracts, her needs. So if she was interested, why the fuck would you hold back on providing exactly what she wants. “But help me out, what did you tell me?”

Another twist - another catch. Another push - another pull. She's going to break so sweetly if you're patient - and, ahh, patience - she's shuddering underneath your touch, squirming against you so nicely that you've already gotten away with a bit too much, this much, these fingers and you and Minju's breathy gasps.

"M-that you could be. That you could-" she stutters, all as you feel her folds start to swell, then quiver, as your thumb drags painfully over her clit again - 

And in that moment Minju starts to consider if this were a good idea or not, but her back is already arching against your chest. She's gripping your arm to get you right where she wants you, and the reality of this hits her - a rush of cold clarity through her head just as everything else threatens to spiral into something else, something frantic, something hot and animal and making the muscles at her core begin to clench up.

But you just ease out of her completely, a whine coming out from the back of Minju's throat - her thighs parting further in desperation.

And oh, the disappointment, the sound, it’s incredible - a high pitch - almost a sob -

You slide your other hand in her hair to make sure she's got an earful of your words:

"What was it you said, hm?" you whisper, nipping at the skin on her neck, the side of her jaw - she's shuddering with it when your mouth lingers so close -

“As rough as you fucking want.”

God, the little things that her voice does to you. “Exactly, sweetheart.”

And how's that boundary supposed to hold up and remain uncrossed then, really, if you just give her whatever the fuck she asks for - especially if you have your mouth working it's way around her pulse-point, toying with her as she starts to tense and soften all at once.

In fact, Minju can only stutter out an okay or two as you grind forward, the hard suggestion of your cock nestling up against her rear, just shy of the perfect spot between her legs, and even with still a few layers of clothes between you, the feeling - fuck, the friction, the sight - it’s enough to get you grinning.

Enough to form this near-half-coherent thought: that it’s what's always had you on edge with this girl. She is absolutely every bit your type. Everything about her, right down to the way that she was put together.

All her hard edges and soft curves that should've never really been yours to covet and now, somehow, have become exactly that. Oh, she's the kind of temptation that's better suited for the life of glitz and glamor and the time it requires for indulging in it. You never thought that you would actually ever get here, even as the years have begun to stack up and time starts to grind everything in the back of your head and turn it all over into something like resentment.

If only Minju weren't so good at making you a sucker for those pouty lips and big doe eyes.

Particularly when she's turned around - face to face now - she's the epitome of gorgeous, equal parts aphrodite and adonis; a fucking knockout, her body sculpted and lithe and athletic. Those lines curving out and away like they might tell time, like her thighs could count the minutes and seconds until she's straddling you in your lap with her ankles locked in at the small of your back and you're rutting up into her without reservation, without doubt.

(So what, really, is your goddamned excuse? Your pride? The nature of the beast in you that demands that you must have some degree of control over yourself? The power that your position, here, now, provides? But you can hardly be blamed, even when it's wrong and filthy and so fucking good.)

"You’re stalling." Minju’s leaning back against the desk, tilting her chin up, blinking lazily, and there’s a bit of bite in her voice again.

It takes a minute for it to dawn on you that it must be intentional, trying to get a further rise out of you, the same way your hands have risen up to trace the dips and elevations of her spine, her every vertebra, your fingertips mapping the hollows and rounds of her back. To learn the geography of her shoulders and where, and when, and how to get her breath catching in her lungs, each labored intake of air a little harsher, hastier, hotter than the last.

"You know," you start, spreading your palm across a soft plane of denim, fingers pulling onto the cheek of her ass, dragging her even tighter against you, "I always figured your reputation was a little overdramatized. Most everyone's bound to have a story or two."

She laughs, full of mirth. When the mood strikes, she's the picture of perfection, and she knows it. "Well? Were you disappointed?"

As she coils an arm around your waist to slide your shirt free from the confines of your pants, and as a deft hand slips its way in, you stop asking yourself about right or wrong, good or bad, or about the kisses that land playfully at the corner of your mouth - until you hold her tight and seize her lips, hard, like you mean it - it isn't long before she's fumbling and scrambling with the zipper at your waist. 

"That depends," you’re pulling yourself away long enough to say.

"I think I know the answer." 

And by the way she shivers a little when you shove up the bottom of her top, the way she's melting into your mouth and demanding more and more and more, Minju does. You think she probably has since the first night that your threads got all tangled up. Especially when she slides off her top - her bra - her jeans - leaving them in a pile that lasts barely a second where it started once you sweep everything off of your desk in one broad, efficient gesture -

There's a thud when a pair of binders and a couple of books hit the floor. Someone exclaiming in recognition, the muffled noise drifting through the office door, and, oh, this would probably be the best moment to remember how painfully thin the walls are; you consider whether to walk over and lock the office door, and when Minju’s fingers run up your sides, you decide you won’t.

Too little too late, you figure.

And before you can take a second to give it the more congruent thought it deserves, Minju opens her mouth: "which, in your professional opinion," a hum and a slur as her nails find their way to your collar, "is well, that the thing I should take," she gets out, unbuttoning you at the cuffs, loosening the last of your shirt, "really," her hands palming over the fabric on either side of the lapels, working their way downwards, "how - how do you think this goes?"

“Oh, Minju.” She’s all but begging you to fuck her and still has the wherewithal to be asking for terms.

Like her fingers aren’t completely down your pants, locking around your hard cock - pumping you with soft, lazy strokes - not too different from how you have her chewing on her lip every time your fingers circle over the entrance to her cunt, tenting the last of her lace all slow and careful.

It’s driving her crazy. She just bites into the edge of her thumb in response.

"Fine. Alright. Let me explain it clearly." You dip a finger into her cunt; the whimper is short-lived when she tightens around you and it hits home, the pressure so delicious that she can barely stutter to keep up.

“A negotiation, of sorts-”

“Yeah, sure, we can call it that.”

The mental picture you have of your length outlined against Minju's tiny fist - as she works it into her hand, steady - it's all almost more than you can possibly bear: the way her long legs stretch out so pretty in front of you, the way her wrist twists with each pass and every bump at the veins of her forearm that is such a damn perfect shade of porcelain white in the dim glow of the desk lamp.

This girl with her pert pink mouth and those lips, the ones that aren't quite touching yours but rather smirking the whole time. (If only you were to make her scream loud enough, because you know she could be so much prettier.)

The thought flits through your brain, unbidden and treacherous -

"Think, fuck - think of this, as a one-way track into your career. Think of me, a guiding hand - if you want to. The key to all this," you continue, spacing the words carefully so you don't falter under the pace Minju is picking up, "is that you're going to need to be compliant. Easy."

"Mm. And in exchange?" she bites, choking down an embarrassing moan.

"Here's the basics." And there, there's no fucking reason for you not to dip the tips of your fingers right on downwards, tap into her soft heat until her hips are arching away from the flat of the desk, searching for more. “Whenever you need me to take care of you, I’m there, however you need it: on my fingers, my tongue, my cock - I’ll make you fucking cum over and over.”

"That sounds," she gasps, losing track of the end of her sentence, rolling herself along the pads of your fingers, taking them deeper into her, "very-very-oh fuck-”

Her grip around your cock releases, arms throwing themselves around your shoulders, holding on tight as she starts to trust you implicitly - to give her exactly what she wants, what she needs - and give herself over to you, to your fingers, circling and circling and circling.

“See, tomorrow,” you start, “there’s an audition,” and when you pull your finger out of her cunt, Minju lets out this sound that’s between a whimper and a whine. Her pretty mouth has dropped open, like she's all out of words, lost somewhere, chasing this. Getting dire.

“It’s this teen soap; they need someone young, someone pretty, do you think you can do that for me?”

She doesn’t answer so much as grab and tug and pull you even closer as the heel of your hand pushes and presses over her clit, just about enough force behind it that, eventually, you begin to feel a certain rigidity through her limbs, how the lines of her face and her faultless features grow more and more focused, fixed and concentrated; her voice reduced to the high-pitched huffs and half-formed syllables of pure and utter desperation.

I can, I can - she’s murmuring - please, yes, I will - putting herself right into your capable hands.

When you feel Minju tightening, flexing around nothing, then seizing and shivering, her pussy throbbing hot and wet and clenching around your finger as it again works deeper inside her, an anguished groan finds its way out from her throat.

And from yours, well -

"Show up," you command, giving her another knuckle, curling it just right - watching as her expression contorts and twists up for all her worth. "Make a good impression. Don't make me fucking beg. Show up, Unreserved. Understood?"

And if her body wasn't making her pleas utterly transparent, she's screaming in agreement. It takes you barely a couple seconds, working up inside her cunt until she's all full-body, fully, blissfully spent. She starts to nod, needy, eyes screwing shut.

“And let’s say, something else pops up. A little racy, a little more gravure, just the right amount scandalous, I need you to keep an open mind.”

When it sinks in what you've said, Minju gives this wail, low and perfect - her cunt throbbing over the pulse at your palm - inches away from cumming and shaking and creaming on your hand. You could ask for anything, you think, and she’d give it to you -

“My PR team,” she gasps out, the consonants of her words fraying at the seams, “it’s up to my PR team.”

“Minju,” you say, priming a loaded question and a half. “Do you trust me?”

She nods, expression readable and open like a book. It starts to set in just about then, how you’re going to fucking ruin this girl.

Your breath runs hot, right against her temple, and you whisper the slightest affirmation, “good girl, I’ll take care of it.”

Because to be fair, you’ve not made it this long in your career without learning how to pull a string - how you might pull up on the sensitive skin straddling Minju’s clit and get her reeling; her pussy flutters in the tight, wet heat, muscles clamping, demanding as you work yourself in deeper and then, when the timing's right, pull out to slide a second finger past the slip of lace she has covering her cunt.

She's this tight, dripping, overwhelming fit - even more than you have yet to discover, to tease and then take, the heel of your wrist landing on her clit in a heavy pattern, circles - circles - circles -

- so you figure: fuck the PR team.

If only they knew how well and thorough you were going to fuck the rules right out of Minju.

That you were going to remind her who's the one in the driver’s seat of her life, of her career, that you would make sure she stays in her lane - the proper lane - that this, you think to yourself, might become a recurring sort of negotiation, the kind she's so shockingly eager to accept.

You'd be doing her a favor, fucking a couple good lines into her head, into her skin, into her cunt.

And soon, before long -

She's gritting her teeth around the shape of your name and giving one last heave against the hard wood of the desk underneath her. It's almost beautiful to watch how Minju crumbles into herself; the way she grinds back onto the digits in her cunt. How you’re dragging her underwear down her thigh, pulling your cock into your fist and twisting her leg around your waist until finally, you press yourself right up against the heat radiating from her cunt.

“I’m going to take good care of you, Minju, don’t worry, I’ll fuck this pussy of yours just right. I'm going to make you shake and cum all over me.”

“Please.” Fuck, she looks at you sincerely - no games, no bullshit - pupils so very blown out with want, with need. You watch her adorable mouth uptick into this faint lazy smile as she tilts her head into your collarbone, lips parting slightly to remind you: “as rough as you fucking want-” 

And you sink right in. 

It’s all skin-on-skin as Minju practically collapses in your arms; pushing deep past her soaking entrance - your hips slotting together just so, cock engulfed by her tight heat. Minju fucking wails when you drag back from her cunt, slow - so, so agonizingly slow.

You let her recover just a bit, watching her breathing quicken and shallow.

And the word on her lips becomes something reverent, the most indecent prayer, pleading please, please, please let me have it, please fuck me with your cock- 

You brace yourself, thrusting back in, and she doesn't wince this time, holding fast to you like you aren’t the one fucking her open and taking her apart.

“God, I - look, this perfect little fucking cunt, look at how you’re stretching around me, Minju,” you’re telling her - promising her really - all of which doesn't count for shit when, once, and then again, and a couple more times after that, your hips meet hers and she starts to break just so slightly around you. “I can’t believe - it’s like you were fucking made for my cock, baby, you’re taking me so fucking well.”

"Now, show me why - why the fuck everyone wants you - wants you to be their-" she's trying, in a fashion  all to her credit and her fault. She should probably care more about that raw, unhinged noise you’re making right into the crook of her neck when you bury yourself deeper into her pussy. But in the next moment, with another wild crash of your hips, the tables start to turn.

Slowly at first, and then all at once.

Because the sound you’re ripping from her chest when you start fucking her - truly fucking her - becomes far, far filthier than anything you've ever heard a girl like her make. All of it coaxed out from you working the edge of her pussy open, stretching her, hitting each and every sensitive spot inside her.

Minju tips her head back to stare at the popcorn ceiling and fluorescent lights, brow creasing in the middle, mouth gaping open. You find you might have missed something, when she moves to hold you down, hold you in place with an insistent leg, the back of her heel digging into your ass. As though there were somewhere you might possibly want to go.

It all comes down to something she's murmuring, quietly, harboring this smug lilt like you aren’t fucking her raw and senseless: how maybe the key to unlocking the rest of her potential isn’t all that dissimilar, not as off-brand as you may have been initially worried about. And the notion that both of you might actually be profiting off of this - how it shouldn’t sound as incredible as it does - is doing absolutely fucking nothing to slow the brutal pace you fall into.

"Fuck, just like that," and she's smiling, grinning really, nails biting into your nape - your name and curses and a fuck you or two falling out of her mouth as you pound each short breath right out of her chest. 

"The only talent I'm gonna need to show," she manages, dizzy, and with one arm hooking around your waist, she pulls the two of you close, right up against each other. The sound your skin makes, clapping against hers - her cunt tight, pulsing, quivering around you - "is my, my, my-"

Your thumb should have never left her clit, you realize, pressing down on where your cock is disappearing between her legs, pushing up against that bundle of nerves that can get her screaming. That’s how you’ll punctuate your end of the bargain, how you’ll make her cum and cum and cum -

"-talent for being such a-"

There's something ungovernable in you, something fumbling, as you find yourself drawn to her lips like a magnet - claiming them in a kiss that has you both growling with all the intensity you can muster, groaning as her jaw goes slack, surrendering to the fucking. To this hard, solid snap of your hips, a raw fuck forward that pushes Minju against the edge of the tabletop.

It doesn’t matter what she had wanted to say, though it must be evident how easy she can wind you up, and you do your best not to be too gentle. Pushing into her so rough that her breasts, oh-so-delicate, bounce up and down along her chest, nipples tight and rosy, begging to be tasted and played with.

You’re pressing your mouth on hers hard, fucking her harder - fingers digging into the flesh around her thighs and leaving marks and memories, all these reminders you’ll be sure to come back to.

But the fact is that this is your girl in so many ways: needy and a dream in all her curves, and how her waist rocks back, her body fitting so perfectly against yours - you're hooked on all of it. On her - she is temptation made real, in blood and bone and soft, supple skin, so exquisitely touchable, just like the sound that she makes, high and tittering when your thumb starts to work her clit over; each swirl and figure eight sending a jolt through her nerves and straight back into your own spine. It's difficult - hard to focus, you find - when all her exposed skin has these drops of sweat standing in saltwater relief, how it rolls down the plane of her chest and disappears where her waist flares wide.

Minju turns her cheek, mouthing falling open, and asks with a certain helpless pleading, “yes, can you-”

she sighs,

“right there,”

she hiccups,

“please, again,”

she begs,

“again, harder, i’m so close-”

Not before long, the desk is scraping loudly across the carpet, moving right into the next office over, all from where you have your hand trapping her voice back in her throat, palm over where she’s practically sobbing for you to let her cum. 

From where you’ve got her locked in tight, lifting her up into your arms, into some perverse, unspoken promise to carry her the rest of the way. To do with her whatever you want.

"I'm going to show you," you're gritting out, "exactly how a professional handles their star, the girl at the center of it all, their top draw - and it's so easy, isn't it? This is - fuck, sweetheart - you're nothing more than a - just a desperate little cockslut who's aching to cum, and it's good - oh so, fucking-"

When that next shiver courses down the length of her perfect form, it's entirely because of you, when her legs are still locked and clamped over you like this, as she sputters and babbles, totally cock-addled and barely managing a coherent thought. “Please, sir, please, fuck-”

And then a keening, sounding low, lost.

“Sir. Please, sir, please just - I just wanna-" Her lips are shaping all these words that never quite materialize - because her cunt is slick, the whole of it hotter and softer than anything else in this goddamn room. Maybe anything else in this whole building. Or in the entire world. It makes her whimper and ache, her voice rising and rising, belting out, need it, need it, please let me cum -

Which -

Minju, oh god, Minju cums, and you are fucked sideways to hell and beyond when her whole body convulses, shakes, every single part of her contracting, contracting - all at once - the way her hands claw desperately onto the blades of your shoulders as the room gets taken up with the scent of her; the sounds she's making are fucked and filthy. She starts to become undone as you double your pace, aiming true - thrusting, pounding, nailing Minju right into the finish.

“Minju, sweetheart, I’m going to cum in you,” you tell her, and it’s not even a question, or a concern. You’re dictating, not negotiating when you say it to her again, when you tell her you’re going to fill her perfect pussy so full with your cum, she'll be hung up on it for weeks.

One long, stretched out moan is all it could ever take; a split second, where everything runs blindingly hot, and you bury yourself as deep into her pussy as you possibly can.

Cumming so much, spilling out deep inside - this heavy flood of cum that pools warmly at the back of her cunt and fills every corner of Minju - she whines and sobs and tells you it's too much, please, all this hot and thick white cum pumping right into her -

As you throb into her, she's having a hard time saying anything beyond your name, actually, because if anyone can, if anyone would, if Minju can trust anyone and anything in this world more, it would be you.

Her chest shudders and shudders, and she kisses you in a vain effort to quiet her own body, to quiet yours. She has all this faith she's pouring right down your throat as you rock the last of your orgasm into her twitching heat, spilling and spilling and spilling, not caring about the wetness leaking onto the carpet. Not bothering to mask the obscene slickness, how everything gets completely fucking sopping between the two of you.

When she's practically drooling over you, eyelids growing heavy and fluttering, Minju sags heavily into the bend of your arms. In that shallow heaving and gasping for air that bathes the both of you - blissed the hell out, a lazy tangle of limbs - and without warning she turns to speak into your neck, her breath cooling, like a whisper of a dream:

“Okay, and already… I guess this isn’t entirely-”

“Completely terrible,” you offer after you swallow the dryness in your mouth.

Minju smiles into your shoulder. “And sir, in the spirit of honesty and transparency, I think I - I think I really did want - this - you - the entire thing…”

You stop her there, right in the middle of that particular train wreck. A drop in your voice, and the message is clear, when your mouth works its way to hers.

(No more of her talking like that.

Besides, she looks even better on your lips like this, and fuck, doesn’t Minju taste like you will have to remember, like a little bit like desperation, but only in the way that it has you both completely hopeless, hanging on to every whimper as your cock slides lazily about her well-fucked pussy, a bit deeper, a bit further.)

Like there is something far beyond professionalism guiding the hand with which you hold her hip and let her ass spill through the gaps of your fingers.

It’s all mixed up, how in this exact moment you figure this is a terrible, terrible idea, the worst kind of agreement, this pact - because no one could look at you, could look at either of you and have any doubts in mind now. But you can see it, how you’ll both wear this little agreement like the most beautiful stain in your histories. Even though it might, conceivably, cost one or both of you dearly at some point in time. 

And yet, still.

"Will you - can I - can you..."

She's clinging onto you with all her remaining energy, like she wants to see it through.

But her eyes - the poor thing - her expression is melting into this haze, her face contorted in something like pain and something else entirely: a different kind of satisfied glimmer. It's almost unreadable how that sharp mouth softens at the edges as her cunt gives this small flutter over the head of your cock, as you pump her so full, threatening to overflow.

And in your ear, you catch this little whisper. It says, “please, let me show you,” she's practically purring, “let me, let me - I'm gonna clean you up now, lick my cum right off you.”

It's true. Minju can act and perform and pose and make faces, for a shit ton of people - but she’ll play-act any facade you might ask her to, and she'll do it for you - because, this time around, all you ask her is this:

To be yours.

To be a good girl for you, an obedient little thing, in your private audience, away from the cameras and the lights, away from everyone.

When her knees hit the carpet, she is perfectly between your legs, palms on your hips and fingers splaying out against you.

And when she tries her damnedest like this, no one should bother ever pretending to think differently - least of all, you - and certainly, not while your cock is hardening again in the wet heat of her mouth, under the curl of her tongue, the gentle touches of her fingers -

How can anyone ever bring themselves to tell her that she isn't completely, indisputably the greatest.

(The very, fucking best.

And in every other way: the woman of your dreams. A woman, you realize, you ought to endeavor to keep, in all manners, and forever.

Minju, who could probably do anything, and you, who just might be able to give it to her.)

[tickettride]

My girl

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

pairing is johnny davis x f!reader

in which you've felt johnny drifting away from you for weeks. for once, you accept playing pool with one of the newbies at the bar. a little fun has never hurt anyone. the thing is, johnny doesn't seem to enjoy it as much as you do.

word count: 2,8k

warnings: angst, strained relationship, drinking, slight violence, comfort and smut (happy ever after, y'know?)

The familiar hum of chatter filled your ears as you leaned against a wall, nursing your drink. The bikeriders’ meeting place was packed that night, and you had lost count of how many men had brushed up against you to get your attention. At least those who knew you were Johnny’s girl wouldn’t try anything, so you were a bit safe.

You weren’t particularly close to that world, where men drank until they passed out and violence had its own rules. You’d have rather gone out to the movies with friends or stayed home watching TV. You didn’t belong here. 

At the start of your relationship with Johnny–when everything was easy and pretty–you had been worried about having different interests. But it wasn’t bad, was it? It made the conversations at home more lively. Johnny would tell you about his day at work while you cooked something, and he would listen to your blabbering as you sat on the couch. It had become the routine. At least, when he talked to you.

With your pop in hand, you tried to catch his gaze. It felt like you had taken a huge step backward in your relationship. Now, Johnny was too tired to ask about your day. He barely looked at you. And the main reason was the very sight in front of you. 

The club. 

Johnny was drifting further away from you every day, and there was nothing you could do besides trying to hold his hand a little longer when you could. There was this superpower force pushing him away from you, no matter how hard you pulled. Every day, the same questions made you uneasy. Had we moved in together too fast? Shouldn’t he have proposed by then? Is there someone else in his life? It wasn’t like you could tell him to leave the club aside for some time. This whole thing was his life.

Your second anniversary was in two days, and you weren’t even sure he’d remember. 

Without warning, warmth brushed your side. One of the new guys–blond buzzcut and cute smile–was towering above you. It would have been intimidating had he not been leaving a step or two between you both. Clever one, you thought. 

“Wanna try to beat me?” he asked you, and by the time you had registered his question, looking like an idiot, he had already repeated himself.

“Oh, um,” your gaze narrowed to the pool table, clearing your throat as it started to burn. “Why not. Yeah.”

You usually weren’t the kind to mingle with the men, but this time you really needed to be distracted from everything. Before the guilt pounding behind your breastbone became unbearable, you followed the guy to the pool table, where a few men were already gathered. 

Discomfort nipped at your edges as you stood there, tightening your grip over your drink. You greeted those you hadn’t seen quickly, not knowing what to do.

“Charlie,” the blond guy introduced himself, shouting in your ear. 

You gave him your name back, finally making a move to set your drink down on a table nearby.

“What do I get if I win?” Charlie asked, handing you a cue. 

You chuckled, and suddenly your chest started feeling a bit lighter. When was the last time you had fun? 

“What d’you want?” you replied with a quick shrug, breaking eye contact when you realized how flirty this sounded. 

“A kiss,” Charlie didn’t hesitate. “On the cheek, if you’d rather.”

“Right. I’m Johnny’s girl.”

With a raise of his eyebrows, Charlie invited you to start. You doubted he would give it a response or care, so you moved to the end of the table and inhaled sharply as you bent to take your first shot. 

“Ya won’t hit it from that angle,” he interrupted, pointing at the cue ball. “Ya need to move over there, see?"

“Is is obvious that I’ve only played once before?” you straightened, beaming at his burst of laughter. "I’m so bad at this."

“Nah. You’re okay,” Charlie rounded the table to stand beside you. Close. “Want me to start instead?”

Perhaps it was universe, or something linked to that superpower you often thought of. That thing beckoned you to glance over the tables against the wall. Johnny was watching you, his glass frozen against his lips. 

You imagined running your hands through his hair and feeling his muscles flexing under your touch. Asking him for things you had never had the guts to ask before. Bend you over the pool table. 

For a moment, you wondered if he could read your mind. You averted your gaze, reminding yourself of how distant he was. Even sex couldn’t fix things up. 

You heard a low whistle as the white ball hit the grouped balls with a sharp stroke. The men’s loud chatter brought you back to reality, in which Charlie was waiting for you to shoot. 

“Woah,” you forced a smile, although you hadn’t seen anything. “Bet I can do better.”

“Yeah?” Charlie grinned back, looking at you like he could eat you on the spot. "I can help if ya need.”

You imagined his hands on his waist, and suddenly you wanted to stop and go home. For real this time. Too uncomfortable to admit it, you willed yourself to get a grip on yourself and blamed your sheepishness. If you ended this quickly, you could go back to Johnny’s table.

“I should be fine.”

Bending again, you mustered all your concentration and tried hard to ignore Johnny’s hot gaze on you, as well as Charlie’s.

From his spot, your man probably had a very straight, public view of your bra. 

“C’mon,” you muttered to yourself, right before getting one ball into the far corner pocket with a smooth, hard stroke. 

“Look at that!" Charlie exclaimed, brushing a hand against your lower back as he slipped to the other side. “That was good.”

His enthusiasm almost made you smile.

“Uh-huh,” was all you said, locking eyes with Johnny again.

Nerves crawled through your veins as you felt Charlie’s hand again, this time poking your side playfully. 

“Hey, don’t go all sad on me. Ya can still beat me.”

No, but Johnny might.

Under the heat of his stare, you tried not to shrivel. You didn’t even know if you wanted to kiss him or make a run for it. That attitude–giggling with other men–was something you had never done before. Clearly, he hated that. And you, it made your heart pick up pace. Was it how it was between you now? Making each other jealous to get some attention?

Sitting uneasy at the table, Johnny didn’t think he owned you or anything. He just couldn’t stand the idea of someone treating you with less respect than you deserved. Getting physical wasn’t the solution–he was well aware, as you’d already warned him about it once–but he wanted to show you he had your back no matter what. Those young guys didn’t even give a fuck about getting to know you properly. How would they know you loved flowers more than anything else?

“What’s up?” Charlie asked, so close to your ear you smelled the booze on his tongue. 

You slightly shifted backward, pretended to be focused on the game. “Nothin’.”

Your hand sweated against the cue as you saw Johnny pushing his chair back and striding over to you from the corner of your eye. It was only when he stood at the other end of the table that you saw those dark, suspicious eyes. They glanced at you, and back at the man standing proudly.

“I suggest ya take your hand off her now,” Johnny feigned nonchalance, resting both hands on the table.

You didn’t miss the second glance at your lips. Beside you, Charlie replied, but you were barely listening. Your mind was still stuck on the idea of touching Johnny and hearing him say that he didn’t like when guys got too close to you. That you were the only one. Deep down, you knew it was closer to insecurity than lust.

Even your name had never sounded so sensual coming from his lips. It snapped you out of whatever dreaming haze you had been in, finally making you move away. 

“I guess we both lost,” you tried to lighten the mood, shooting Charlie a quick look. 

It was useless. His attention was tethered to Johnny as he moved to get closer. Their mouths moved, but you could no longer hear what they were saying over the roaring of your ears. Something about your right to be playing, and Johnny’s response about doing whatever the fuck you wanted to do. You didn’t dwell on the semantics. Charlie had clearly had a drink or two already, and the flush in his cheek only made you assume the worst. He would get physical, and it would be over for Johnny.

“If she can’t be left on her own, then maybe you’ve got somethin’ to worry ‘bout,” Charlie pointed out, glaring at Johnny like he wasn’t afraid of throwing a punch first. 

“What?” an offended gasp left your mouth, confused by his sudden aggressivity. 

You’d never understand men. The sight of him turning from a sweetheart with a bright smile to an evil jerk calling you a whore was jarring. 

“Not sure I get it,” Johnny replied, calm as ever. “What are ya callin’ her exactly?”

“Dunno,” Charlie didn’t lower his gaze as he retorted instantly. “The bitch’s been flirtin’ with me, and I’m in the wrong?”

You froze on the spot, knowing if you talked, an embarrassing sound would come out. Or maybe you would slap him.

The lights cast the area in dim light, and yet it was bright enough to see the flicker of red behind Johnny’s gaze. Time for you to step in.

“Listen to me,” Johnny was somehow nose-to-nose with the younger guy. “She’s under my protection. Right? She can do whatever she wanna do, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let a shithead like ya touch her the way ya did.”

“Yeah? She didn’t seem to complain ‘bout my hands earlier.”

You cringed at the words they were exchanging, although none of them truly gave a damn about the men listening in.

Before you could even blink, Johnny had backed him up against the wall, pressing so hard the guy gasped in a breath.

A curse left your lips as you rushed forward, trying to pull him away. “No, no, no. Let him go.”

“Say one more word about her, ‘n I’ll cut your dick out ‘n feed it to the dogs,” Johnny said, pretending not to hear or feel you, something violent spreading through his veins. “Next time I see ya anywhere close to her, I’ll kill ya. Understood?”

You were glad Charlie kept silent, swallowing harshly as he gave Johnny a death glare. You hadn’t noticed Benny until now, waiting for a sign to step into the fight. He gave you a quick look, and you tried to reassure him with a quick smile. Like Yep! He’s going to kill him but life’s good. 

“Fuckin’ wanker,” Johnny inhaled sharply as he let go of him, stepping backward.

You only figured Charlie didn’t fire back right away because he was being pulled away by two bulky men. He probably wouldn’t even remember after some sleep. 

Putting a cigarette between his lips, Johnny yanked the door of the bar open before body slamming his way into the small crowd gathered before the bikes. You were trying to follow closely, getting frustrated at all the fucking people on your way, stomping over feet and puddles. 

“Johnny!” you yelled as he made it to his car, his arm stiff as board on his side, his fist and his jaw clenched. “Hey!”

You’d seen him mad as hell once or twice, but never like that. He usually threatened guys calmly, like the boss he was. Losing his composure in front of the men–it had never happened. Dense fog swirled in the air, obscuring your view, so you nearly glued your body to his to have a good look at his expression. You were glad he hadn’t chosen his bike tonight. You hated it when he rode in a bad mood. 

The night was calm, the men having already dispersed or made their way back inside. Tire noises and sirens were steady in the background, but even louder than that was the way he said, “What?”. Like you were getting riled up out of nowhere.

The air settled around you, as though everyone had left to let you discuss. A pit of guilt burned in your stomach, but you couldn’t help but feel mad. 

“What the fuck just happened?”

Johnny huffed. “Ya wanted me to let him grope ya?”

You almost rolled your eyes. “Lighten up. He was… really respectful at first. If I’d wanted to, I’d have left.”

“Where to?”

“We were in a bar, Johnny. Not a stadium. I’d have figured my way out. And you knew this guy just wanted to fight anyways. That’s all he was lookin’ for.”

His lack of response pissed you off. Johnny blew the smoke away from your face, and you weren’t sure if he kept silent because he was still maddened or because he didn’t want to have this conversation with you.

“I’m not the dummy you think I am,” you added, spurred on by his eyes trained on you. “I appreciate you standin’ up for me, but–”

“But what?” he cut you off, a bit of smoke mixing with your air.

“But I don’t want to get your attention only when you’re jealous.”

Johnny glanced over at the bar’s entrance, where a couple was making out against a bike. “Bullshit.”

“Do you even love me anymore?”

Thick tension rolled off him, sucking all the air until you were left breathless, putting a shaking hand over your heart. It wouldn’t slow down. Not until he told you the truth. 

“Do I love ya?” Johnny kept his gaze on you, reading your face like you were high or something. “I could have killed a guy for ya in there, ‘n you’re askin’ me if I love ya?”

“Well, it’s not been very obvious lately,” you hissed as you remembered how he had barely greeted you the night before. “You haven’t kissed me in three days, Johnny. You… you could barely keep your hands off me at the beginnin’–”

“Jesus,” he mumbled, stamping out his cigarette to grab your face between his palms. “Look at me. I’m sorry ‘bout that, alright?”

Your face scrunched up, but you managed to suppress the tears.

“What’s goin’ on?” you asked. “I thought we were havin’ something beautiful, and now, shit, we barely talk. You barely touch me.”

Johnny swallowed, finally coming to the realization that the situation was worse than he’d imagined. 

“I’m sorry. Ya hear me? I’m sorry I’ve been leavin’ ya out. The club’s been draining me lately.”

Your eyes softened, a hand coming to rest upon his cradling on your cheek. “Talk to me, then. I was startin’ to think you were tired of me.”

Johnny frowned. “Fuck, no. I need ya.”

Your heart squeezed as the steady breeze made you shiver. “I miss you so much it breaks my heart.”

“I’m here,” he kissed a corner of your lips. “I promise I’m here.”

His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. 

“Say it again,” you breathed. “I can’t stand stayin’ away from you. Not talkin’ to you all the time.”

A thumb ran across your lips with the perfect roughness. “I promise I’m not goin’ anywhere. Ya want me to take a few days off?”

“No,” you sighed. “I’m not sure we can afford this.”

“We can. I’ll rent somethin’ cute and we’ll celebrate our anniversary. Just the two of us. What d’ya think?”

A small but sincere smile pulled at your lips. God, you loved him. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

The next second, he was kissing you until you couldn’t breathe anything but him. His palms skimmed up the backs of your thighs as you stood on your tiptoes. Without warning, he pulled back to look at you, that spark in his gaze mirroring yours. 

“C’mon. I’m not fuckin’ you here.”

Relief and a spike of heat ran through your veins during the ride home. His warm hand rested on your thigh, squeezing it gently until he parked in front of the garage door. The silence only fuelled you, playing with your patience. 

He quite literally glued himself to your back while you tried to unlock the front door, cursing at yourself for your trembling hands. 

And finally, finally, he apologized with slow strokes of his cock and kisses on your breasts. Your clothes had been thrown aside haphazardly, abandoned in the heat of the moment. You had thought he would make you come like this, but he instructed you to roll over and lay on your stomach, and who were you to refuse? Those weeks apart, even when you had been in the same house and bed, had left you both pent up, wanting and missing each other more than anything else in the world. You didn’t even know how you had managed to stay silent this whole time. 

“Shit. I love you,” you moaned, eyes screwed shut as he kissed up your spine, his hips flexing in time to make sure he was fucking you as deep as he could.

Exhaustion hit you like a train, and it felt so heavenly lying there as he whispered that you meant the world to him.

“So pretty,” Johnny mumbled, his words muffled as he nipped at the sensitive skin between your shoulder blades, “Got me so hard just from lookin’ at ya, sweets.”

You fisted the sheets and dug your nose in the pillow when you came, and Johnny quickly followed. He stilled on top of you, his chain sitting on your back and shining in the cold light pouring through the window. 

“Gimme one minute and I’ll fuck ya again, right?” he breathed in your ear, making you grin against the pillow. 

From that day on, he always did as he said. A small house was rented in the woods, and you spent your second anniversary making love, promising each other the truth.

[mymoshangthoughts]

a list of silly moshang ideas

for your entertainment and bc i had fun compiling them LOL

shang qinghua being so sexually expressive with his desires that mobei jun is a blushing miserable mess. like either they've gotten together and now that shang qinghua is comfortable knowing he's got his man, he just lets loose with everything on his mind. and sure, mobei jun is dtf and happy to try anything shang qinghua suggests, but that doesnt mean that the way shang qinghua can just shamelessly say the most unhinged and kinky shit doesn't literally make him about to explode with fluster. or even just the mundane way that shang qinghua will grope or talk to him. just qinghua slumps down next to his husband and cuddles against his side, when suddenly shang qinghua just rests a hand on his dick and sighs wistfully "man i love the shape of you inside of me" and wtf is mobei jun supposed to do with that?! other than become very flustered and maybe bring that into reality. but also its not like shang qinghua is even coming on to him. he just likes to cuddle and grope his hubbys huge dick. mobei jun was not prepared for just how comfortable with sex, sexual topics, and touching shang qinghua would be and he is losing his mind just a little bit. alternatively, on the slowburn side of this idea, shang qinghua and mobei jun are still Just Friends, but now that shang qinghua is comfortable at his side, he lets himself say all sorts of filthy shit bc he's just like "ah guy friends can talk abt dirty shit right? half my topics with cucumber-bro are sexual in nature (bc of the fucking novel they're stuck in), half of the convos i had online were sexual in nature (bc of the novel he wrote), so it's totally normal to just talk to a bro about the intricacies of the kama sutra and shit like that lol". meanwhile mobei jun is Losing His Fucking Mind because sure, half his conversations with shang qinghua are perfectly normal things. work, travel, hobbies, and all that stuff. but then the other half is just the most filthy stuff that mobei jun never dared to imagine and its all pouring out of the mouth of the man that he wants more than breathing and He Is Not Okay Right Now

kitty!mobei jun sitting on airplanes head. i'm thinking a shapeshifting demon OR mobei jun hit with a transformation curse. anyway, modern day so either he got dumped between worlds or its just a modern au where demons just exist and humans are none the wiser. anyway, airplane is just a shitty writer who is doing his best when suddenly this cat decided "your house is my house bitch" and now he's just accepted his fate and the cat sits on his head while he writes and bothers him all day and literally kicked him off his bed. altho nowadays the cat will very reluctantly let airplane cuddle with him on the bed, but claws are always on the table. and airplane just kinda wonders if this is how everyone gets a cat bc wtf is happening and how is this his life

shang qinghua handing mobei jun a document to sign and he does so unthinkingly, bc he trusts qinghua, and a moment later shang qinghua is whooping because "AHAHAHA NOW WE'RE MARRIED AND YOU CANT GET OUT OF IT BWAHAHA" and he just doesnt have the heart to tell qinghua that there was literally no need to trick him into this, he absolutely would have done it knowingly because it's kinda funny to watch shang qinghua lose his mind over his "diabolical plot" succeeding (look as soon as airplane figured that mobei prolly wouldnt kill him for it, he was willing to do just about anything to tie that man down). mobei jun just likes how his now husband looks when he's "won"

mobei jun slumped against shang qinghua while he goes about his day and everyone watching on in confused fear as the king of the north just drapes himself all over shang qinghua and shang qinghua just keeps working as if nothing is going on. all the servants in the palace feeling deeply uncomfortable, but they can't do anything about it and shang qinghua just waves off anyone who asks about it and is the king purring?!

shang qinghua wearing a sexy maid costume completely shamelessly while mobei jun tries to cover him up. shang qinghua thinks the costume is hilarious and he has no idea what the outfit is DOING to poor mobei jun, much less all of the very "looking disrespectfully" looks he's earning from others bc he just thinks it's funny as fuck. altho even after he learns that mobei jun is about to lose his mind over it, he's just as shameless except now he's doing it on purpose and someone send help, mobei jun is gonna have a heart attack.

mobei jun biting shang qinghua's ear when he loses an argument before storming away. like no explanation, nothing. just he loses an argument, he bites shang qinghua's ear, and he storms away in a huff. bonus if it's before they're in a relationship so shang qinghua is doubly confused as to just What The Fuck Just Happened

mobei jun waking up to see shang qinghua asleep at his side and marveling at the sight. simple and fluffy, he just loves the soft moments in the morning when he can just bask at the easy intimacy between them and how special it feels to be with the one he loves.

dimension hopping time-traveling pidw!mobei jun finds himself in the pivotal moment when he first met og!shang qinghua. he's about to intervene when he sees that shang qinghua is about to bash his head in with a rock (the same way that the original did) but then he's confused when THIS shang qinghua doesnt do it and suddenly he's aware that the mannerisms of THIS shang qinghua are completely different than the servant he once knew and he's left wondering if this is another time traveler or something else. so he watches airplane!shang qinghua rescue his younger self while following along in the background and wondering just what the hell is going on

twin au: og!shang qinghua berating airplane!shang qinghua for his horrible taste in men. the plot twist is that the entire conversation is happening while airplane!shang qinghua is seated in mobei jun's lap, who doesnt give a shit about the conversation so long as he can hug his airplane to his chest and nap. his head resting on airplane's shoulder and arms wrapped firmly around him while the brothers chit-chat about everything and anything, although mostly just og!shang qinghua hating on mobei jun bc he would like his twin back "once in a century, you clingy piece of shit" and mobei jun oculd not give the tiniest fuck. bonus if wei qingwei eventually picks og!shang qinghua up for their date or smth like that lol

binghe and qinghua plotting diabolical sexy plans for their partners together, to the quaking (horny) fear of shen yuan and mobei jun

shang qinghua bursting in after a long day of hard work and using mobei jun as a lap pillow without any regard for what mobei jun was currently doing. just mobei jun in the middle of an important meeting and now suddenly this tiny human bursts in and curls up on his lap in a huff and mobei jun continues on as though everything is totally normal and everyone else is trying not to lose their shit bc wtf

mobei jun bursting into shang qinghua's home and dragging him to bed for cuddles without any regard for what qinghua was doing. qinghua doesnt even have time to ask or pause what he's doing before suddenly he's been kidnapped to the designated Cuddle Spot where mobei jun won't let go and won't explain and oki its cuddle time i guess

airplane watching in horror as ring-style mobei jun crawls out of his computer screen. look, he's just a humble porn author, he was not prepared for one of his creations to CRAWL OUT OF THE COMPUTER LIKE THAT. he cannot be blamed for the way he screamed, tried to run away, or tried to push mobei jun back into the screen

shang qinghua casually bossing mobei jun around to the horror of those who witness it, even more horrifying when mobei jun responds with an angry glare that freezes over everything before just... doing it. secretly, mobei jun likes it. it's just embarrassing how much he likes it and thats why he's glaring. everyone else is wondering if shang qinghua has put some sort of obedience curse onto the king

shang qinghua being carried like a sack of potatos over mobei jun's shoulder while continuing a work meeting like nothing happened, an ding peak disciples having to scurry after the retreating demon lord as they take notes

mobei jun dragging airplane to bed and away from his computer, claw marks in the floor as airplane is dragged by the foot and trying to get back to his writing

kitten!mobei jun sleeping on airplane's keyboard, swatting at his hands every time airplane tries to move him.

shang qinghua having an oral fixation so he's always chewing on something while he thinks and it's sort of driving mobei jun insane. just shang qinghua mildly chewing on the end of a brush while he's thinking and why are so many of the objects that shang qinghua thoughtlessly puts in his mouth phallic?! HE IS NOT READY FOR THIS. mobei jun strugglign with the horny thoughts of "if he wanted, i'd let him suck on my cock while he's thinking" and just losing his fucking mind

mobei jun casually braiding shang qinghua's hair while shang qinghua hunches over paperwork

mobei jun carrying airplane under one arm and airplane!shang qinghua under the other arm with the self satisfaction of a man who has double the man he loves (bonus points for airplane to have a significantly different character design than shang qinghua)

mobei jun glaring with the hatred of a thousand suns whenever shang qinghua looks at him but whenever shang qinghua looks away, he looks soft and besotted. sha hualing is gonna vomit at this tsundere motherfucker

airplane wearing a hamster kigurumi wrapped up in mobei jun's arms

mobei jun casually stealing shang qinghua's melon seeds until shang qinghua loses his temper (but thats victory for mobei jun, secretly he was just trying to get his husbands attention)

[blueskittlesart]

did u not like totk?

i LOVED totk. i think it was well-written and did its job as a sequel to botw very well. HOWEVER. i do think it suffered slightly from the commercial success of botw. as i mentioned in my last post, nintendo does this. thing. when one of their games gets popular where every game after it has to be Exactly The Same so they can make all the money in the world via comparison marketing. (and this is a problem with the wider game industry in general but also a very observable pattern in loz specifically.) I know it's been a pretty long time since botw came out, but before (and immediately following) its release there was some pushback from longtime fans who worried that the open-world and lack of traditional dungeons meant that the game had strayed too far from the classic formula that makes a game a "zelda game." this is to say, botw was EXPERIMENTAL. and the devs had no idea if what they were doing was going to be successful or not. the open-world of botw wasn't a gimmick, and it wasn't the devs jumping on the open-world bandwagon. it was what CREATED that bandwagon. the open-world was a deliberate choice made specifically for botw because it reinforced the story that botw was designed to tell. the game is about exploring a desolate world, about making connections, and rebuilding both the broken kingdom and the player character's shattered sense of self by traveling and learning and building relationships. a large open-world map with only minor quest guidelines and lots of collectibles and side quests lends itself perfectly to this specific story, which is specifically about exploration and rebirth.

the problem is, botw was. almost TOO good. it was so good that every other game company on the planet started scrambling to build giant open-world maps into their next release, regardless of how much sense that actually made narratively. and because of that, when it came time to release a sequel to botw, the devs had a lot to think about. they had HUGE shoes to fill in terms of fan reception, but they were ALSO being asked to follow up one of the best-performing games of all time, commercially. totk needed to SELL as well as botw. And, likely because nintendo was worried about that potential commercial value, totk needed to keep people comfortable. I don't know for certain, but I definitely get the feeling playing totk that the devs were specifically told not to stray too far from what made botw marketable and successful--that being the open world and the versatility of gameplay. so in order to follow that up, they made... 2 more huge open maps, and new gimmick gameplay which was explicitly super-versatile.

do i think that the extra maps and ultrahand were BAD choices? no. however, i don't think they necessarily ADDED anything to the game as a narrative whole. one of my favorite things about botw was how everything seemed to be designed AROUND the narrative, with gameplay elements slotting neatly into the story thematically. totk just. didn't really have that, imo. there wasn't a huge narrative benefit to the gigantic, completely unpopulated depths and sky maps. ultrahand was cool, but within the context of the story it meant basically nothing. in some ways, i almost think totk could have benefitted from a much more linear approach to its storytelling, a la skyward sword, because there are a lot of story beats that have to be found in chronological order in order to have the right emotional impact, but because of the nonlinear open-world it kind of became a struggle to hit all the important story points in the right order. an easy example of this is the dragon's tears in comparison to the memories--the dragon tears have a very specific set order in which they happen, and finding them out of order can make the story you're seeing in them feel confusing and disjointed. the order in which they should be found is technically displayed on the temple wall, but most players aren't going to pick up on that or follow it--more likely, they're just going to explore the geoglyphs as they come across them organically, and therefore will likely witness the story in a completely disjointed way. compare this to the botw memories, which ALSO technically have a set order--the order in which they're displayed on the sheikah slate. however, because they're largely just small moments in time, and not one continuous story, finding them out of order has a lot less of an impact on how you as the player experience the narrative, and it's not hugely detrimental to your experience of the story if you find them naturally as you explore rather than explicitly seeking them out in order. If TOTK had been allowed to deviate from the botw formula a bit, i think we may have ended up with a more cohesive game in terms of narrative beats like that. as it is, i just think the game is torn slightly between wanting to be its own new game with new gameplay and needing to be botw, if that makes sense.

[girlkisser13]

aphrodite cabin headcanons

a/n: i know that the cabins are in order based on where each olympian sits on the olympian council but i find it funny that aphrodite is #10. get it? because she's a 10. i'll stop. 😔

children of aphrodite

• they're the most diverse cabin at camp.

• they're kind of like a cult.

• mean girls quotes. all day. everyday.

• they have loads of spare clothes that they lend out to new campers that arrive with nothing.

• they actually wear the least amount of makeup out of all the campers because they have the gift of natural beauty.

• they help kids work out their sexualities and make sure they're confident and okay with them.

• they are physically incapable of misgendering people.

• trans aphrodite kids can change their appearance at will.

• they know the basics of every romance language.

• they do couples counseling.

• camp matchmakers.

• they're the camp hairdressers and they also run a secret piercing parlor.

• sucker for romance movies.

• they have the most creative ways of swearing ("you impractical second hand prada bag").

• aphrodite gives them charmed bags that can hold ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING.

• they're particularly fond of sweet foods. like they need a little sweet treat after every meal.

• they keep a running list of the best make out and date spots at camp.

• they're always that person that has a tampon or pad if you need one.

• they're the type of people that will chop off their hair if it doesn't match their outfit.

• the cabin hosts regular beauty and self-care nights, where campers can relax and pamper themselves with facials, manicures, and other treatments.

• they are huge advocates of self love and self care. they do everything in their power to teach every single camper to love themselves.

• they are the most lgbtqia+ supportive cabin, as they are also very diverse in the terms of sexuality: imagine a ton of pansexuals, demisexuals, bisexuals, flirty gays/lesbians, a few aro/ace chilling in the background- everyone is represented.

cabin exterior

• instead of being a life size barbie dreamhouse like it's described in the books, its very subtle, and natural, and soft.

• the outside is pink, but such a pale pink that it looks white unless the right light is hitting it.

• there is natural ivy growing on each wall and onto the roof. It wraps around shutters and the frames of the doors.

• it almost looks like a small manor and like it should have been built on some far off hill that is surrounded by flower fields for miles.

cabin interior

• the inside is very warm and welcoming.

• there are so many pictures, posters, mirrors, and shelves that you can barely see the paint.

• lowkey feels like you're walking into a bath & body works.

• their cabin is filled with scented candles.

• pop music constantly plays in the background and everything in there is expensive as hell.

• their beds are tailored to each camper's exact taste. so it's a bizarre mix of furniture from a fluffy bed with 16 pillows to a bed that looks like it belongs in a prison.

• aphrodite charmed it so that it is bigger on the inside.

• there is a walk-in, expanding, closet where you put old clothes you don't want anymore and other siblings can come and get some new clothes if they need them (other campers are welcome whenever invited. it happens more often than it should).

cabin traditions

• at the beginning of every summer, everyone (if they feel comfortable) gets in front of the rest of the cabin and gives names, pronouns, and sexuality.

• there is an item from every sibling that has lived in the cabin somewhere on the walls. all of the pictures, posters, things on the shelves are placed there by a past sibling.

• there's a hook where, if your jewelry breaks in the cabin, you tie it off and hang it there. there is a necklace made of leather with a hundred year old stone heart on the hook.

divider by @chilumitos

[sguidwards-bestfriend]

So apparently pitchpearl is a thing, I've been on tumblr for a while and if you know any history then you understand why selfcest doesn't surprise me in the slightest

Anyway...

dpxdc Misunderstanding that becomes reality fic: 1.5k

part 1

Warning: I plan on a very melancholic ending, its a good ending but also kinda sad

...

When Danny moved to Gotham, he really had thought he wouldn't continue his hero work in this dimension.

But there was a little girl in the street that almost got hurt during a rogue attack.

But some kind of gas went off at the cafe he worked at and it's not like he really needs to breath and there were so many people.

But his University, Gotham U, was in a lock down from a random winter storm that definitely wasn't natural.

So he did what he could when he saw it and kept off of the news when he was doing class work, letting the other "vigilantes" pick up where he couldn't.

However, after a few more months of class, work, and being a vigilante (the news station that first showed him used the correct name!!), he was right back where he had been in Amity before he'd managed to close the portal.

Exhausted and failing at everything other than hero work.

The year after he had graduated high school he stayed in Amity and was able to make amends with the ghosts, being the crown prince definitely helped. He thought the ghost attacks stopping would have lessened his pa- Jack and Maddie trying to catch one. In reality they only became more and more frantic to catch the last ghost, "Mini Phantom".

Revealing he had a daughter, that that daughter was half ghost, hadn't gone well in the slightest.

The one shot Maddie managed to hit had almost destabilized her. He had grabbed her and ran into the portal. He wasn't sure how he'd done it, but in a fit of blinding rage he had destroyed both sides of the doorway to the Ghost Zone.

Frost bite had managed to get her to retract into her core. She'd need some time before she'd have a physical form again, and she'd need Danny to keep her stable for some time, but she would make it. She'd be fine in the end.

It felt weird to have two cores in his chest, but other than needing to take ecto shots it wasn't a huge change.

The last time he'd been to frostbite Ellie's core had some sort of shake to it. It could have been nothing, but a halfa was rare enough. A halfa making a never-born hadn't even been thought of. Add on, that that never-born could possibly be born a halfa was... concerning.

So here he was, in an entirely new dimension, nervously chewing on the end of his stylus, waiting to hear back from Frostbite. His study sessions lately kept being interrupted by thoughts of her. If she really was okay.

Then there was an earth shattering BOOM, that shook his entire building.

As he floated upwards and through the wall he caught a glimpse of something he had never seen before in his afterlife.

A daemon. An actual daemon with red skin and horns and a flaming tail crawling out of the ruble that used to be his front door.

Danny could sense immediately that the being wasn't from the ghost zone, but it held just as much power as one of the stronger ghost.

He transformed and landed in front of the being, "Hey! That was my front door! What gives, Rudolf?"

The daemon shook the dust off his head and looked at Phantom, then at his chest, and back at him. "I do not fight those that carry child."

"Oh... uh." He was not expecting that. "Are you okay?"

It was the daemons turn to look perplexed. "I am fighting a hellblazer, he owes me something. Refuses to pay."

"That's annoying." He looked around to see some guy in a trench coat at the end of the street. The yet to settle dust cloud making it hard to figure out any other features. "I can help if you-"

At that a massive blast of magic hit him and the daemon, sending them careening farther down the street.

Danny's vision went double and he thought he was going to throw up. All he could focus on at first was the pain as he tried to stand on wobbly legs, then it was the emptiness in his chest.

Ellie.

He closed his eyes and dropped back to the floor. He focused on her core. He found it quickly, checking it over, turning it every which way incessantly until he heard someone groan in front of him.

When he opened his eyes he was looking at two much smaller daemons, one a bright red, the other a darker wine red, sitting in a massive indent in the road. One he very luckily was on the very outskirts of.

The two immediately started to bicker, swatting at each other, but not actually fighting.

He heard footsteps on the wreckage behind him, some magic words were said and the daemons' were hand cuffed and poofed out of sight.

"Hey kid, you okay?" Trench coat asked him, not bothering to give him his hand.

"No thanks to you, you ass."

"I just saved your life." He said with a blank expression.

"The daemon wouldn't have done anything to me. Unlike you, they have a moral code."

Trench coat huffed, that seemed to ruffle his feathers. "And what would those morals be exactly?"

"They pay their debts, for one. And two, they don't magically attack people carrying children." Danny stood up and wavered. Trench coat grabbed his arm to steady him.

He stared at Danny for a few more seconds, "You're not human." It wasn't a question. He sucked in a breath, "You're not fully human."

"Ding, ding, ding." Danny tried to shake of the hellblazer's grip. "Let go of me."

"I know where to get medical attention for non humans. You need to be looked over." He said, starting the motion to make a portal.

"Nuh, uh. No. I'm fine." Danny said, patting the hand still wrapped around his arm. Trenchcoat let go and shoved him lightly, Danny felt the world twist around him as the pavement came up to meet his face.

Before he hit the ground he stopped in mid air, not by his own volition, and was gently propped back up.

"That blast spell is designed to not affect humans. You shouldn't have felt more than a breeze." Trenchcoat went back to opening up a portal, it glowed an eerie red. "Come on, well check the little one too."

Danny let himself get pulled through the red portal, it quickly closed behind them.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

His head was pounding.

"wha/t- morals- exactly?"

Talking.

"debts- two- atta/ckp/eo-ple- children."

Two voices. Two people.

"not human."

He feels empty.

"Letg/oof me."

He's hurt. His other half is hurt.

"You need to be looked over."

He opened his eyes, a man was holding his other half. His other half and his daughter.

"Nuh, uh. No. I'm fine." His other half swatted at the man.

The man pushed his other half to the ground.

He tried to reach out but his hand was barely a shimmering outline.

His other half didn't hit the ground.

There was ringing in his ears. The man would pay.

"Come on,- the little one too."

The man pulled his other half through a portal.

A sickly looking portal. A bloody color.

He floated up. Sped to the closing portal.

It closed too fast.

He wasn't fast enough.

...

It took Phantom 20 minutes to get his thoughts in order and another 10 before the ringing in his ears stopped.

He had been split in two before, but the ghost "dream catcher" the ecto-scientists made years ago had split his ghost half and his human half entirely. This was different.

He still felt a bit of his humanness. Transforming would suck though, he felt too low on ecto to do that.

His other half was in his human form when he looked. He still had Ellie nestled up against his core. But his core looked off. Although the silhouette was of a full sphere, he couldn't help shaking the thought that he saw some parts missing.

When Danny had been split before only his ghost had kept the core, it was what nearly killed them both. What made them promise to never split again.

Maybe if they both had bits of a core they'd be fine until they could reunite.

He tried to focus on his core but it made his head pound.

He'd have to hope his other half could manage as he tried to organize a rescue mission.

Although he'd managed to get a message from the Ghost Zone to Sam and Tucker, he wouldn't be able to get one dirrectly to their dimension.

He knew even trying to make a portal with his ecto as low as it was wasn't a good idea. And would be a waste of the ecto shots he had just chugged.

There was really only one hope of help he had left, one he really didn't want to ask.

A new friend he had made at the cafe.

Tim Drake-Wayne, son of Brucie Wayne. The very same Brucie Wayne that was definitely funding Batman's weird night life.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wow this got away from me, honestly was planning on like 500 words. I want to continue this, but if anyone wants to pick it up and play around please feel free to add stuff in the reblogs! I adore reading peoples additions to posts

(As always please please please help me writing tags i never knwo what to do with them, the lack of structure here compared to ao3 confuses me)