#i WILL make a part 2 if prompted. i have ideas for more videos | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

httpsdana · 1 month ago

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can you write about reader asking kebab to star in her new music video as her male lead and him being not to confident about it plsss 😔

Spotlight~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who i write for

It started as a casual dinner conversation, the kind where ideas flowed freely, accompanied by laughter and clinking glasses. She was seated across from Kenan at their dining table, his brows furrowing slightly as she animatedly described her latest project—a music video for her upcoming single.

“I want it to feel authentic, like a real love story,” she said, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “The male lead should have that perfect mix of charm and vulnerability. Someone who’s real.”

Kenan nodded along, taking a sip of his drink. “Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out. Who’s the lucky guy?”

She leaned forward, her lips quirking into a mischievous smile. “You.”

He blinked, caught completely off guard. “Me?”

“Yes, you!” she replied, her tone firm yet playful. “Kenan, you’re perfect for this. You already know me better than anyone else, and our chemistry is exactly what I want to capture on screen.”

Kenan leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming nervously against the table. “I don’t know, aşkim. I’ve never done anything like that before. I’m a footballer, not an actor.”

“You don’t need to act,” she countered, reaching across the table to take his hand in hers. “You just have to be yourself. That’s what will make it special.”

Kenan hesitated, his gaze dropping to where their fingers intertwined with his. “What if I mess it up? What if I make you look bad?”

“You could never make me look bad,” she said softly, squeezing his hand. “Besides, you’ve seen me in the studio, fumbling through takes and trying to hit the right notes. It’s okay to be unsure. That’s what makes it real.”

He chuckled at the memory of her cursing under her breath after a missed cue or an offbeat lyric. “You always make it work, though.”

“And so will you,” she replied confidently. “Please, Kenan. It would mean so much to me.”

His eyes searched hers, still unsure but visibly softening at the sincerity in her expression. “If it’s that important to you… okay. I’ll do it.”

She let out an excited squeal, jumping out of her chair and pulling him into a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re going to be amazing, I promise.”

Kenan wrapped his arms around her, his nerves momentarily forgotten in the warmth of her embrace. “Just don’t laugh at me if I mess up.”

“I won’t,” she assured him, pulling back to look into his eyes. “But I might fall even more in love with you.”

His cheeks flushed, a rare but endearing sight, and he smiled despite himself. “Well, in that case, I guess I better give it my all.”

The filming began a week later. Kenan showed up to the set early, dressed casually in a white button-up shirt and jeans, looking equal parts nervous and out of place. The crew buzzed around, setting up cameras and adjusting lights, but his eyes found his girl immediately. She walked over, squeezing his arm reassuringly.

“Don’t worry,” she said, smiling up at him. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

The first scene was simple—just the two of them walking through a sunlit park, holding hands and exchanging soft smiles. Despite the simplicity, Kenan stiffened as soon as the cameras started rolling.

“Cut!” the director called out after the first take. “Kenan, relax a little. Don’t overthink it.”

Kenan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Easier said than done.”

She stepped closer, touching his arm lightly. “Hey, don’t focus on the cameras. Just on me, okay? It’s just us.”

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly, and the next take went smoother. She led him through the motions, her hand squeezing his reassuringly every now and then.

The next scene, she had to rest her head on his shoulder as they both sat under a tree, laughing softly at nothing in particular. Between takes, she teased him to ease his nerves.

“See? You’re a natural,” she said after a particularly good shot.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “If by natural, you mean awkward, then sure.”

A specifically hard scene came up, it was the emotional climax—set in a softly lit room, where the two of them had to act out a moment of vulnerability, gazing into each other’s eyes as if confessing unspoken feelings. The director explained the setup, and Kenan looked like he wanted to bolt.

“You’ve got this,” she whispered, brushing her hand against his. “Just think of it as... us, but with cameras watching.”

“Comforting,” he muttered dryly, but he didn’t pull away.

When the cameras rolled, something clicked. His nervousness melted as he focused on her, his eyes softening in a way that made her heart skip. The way he reached for her hand, the way his thumb brushed against her knuckles—it felt so natural, so real, that the crew barely had to give any direction.

When the director called, “Cut!” applause erupted on set.

Kenan blinked, looking around in surprise. “Was that... good?”

“Good?” she repeated, laughing as she threw her arms around him. “Kenan, that was perfect!”

He wrapped his arms around her, a sheepish smile on his face. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” she insisted, pulling back to look at him. “You were incredible. You made this everything I imagined and more.”

The director then approached them both with a clipboard, explaining the next scene. “This is where you kiss. It needs to feel natural and romantic, like you’ve just realized how much you mean to each other.”

Kenan stiffened beside her, his hand instinctively finding hers. “A kiss?” he murmured, leaning closer to her.

She nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s just a kiss, Kenan. We’ve done it a million times before.”

“Yeah, but not in front of cameras and a whole crew,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing.

She squeezed his hand gently. “remember it’s only us, okay?”

The set was cleared of unnecessary crew members to make the moment more private, but the presence of the cameras still loomed. The scene was set on a dimly lit balcony, fairy lights twinkling overhead as the two of them stood close, the city skyline glowing in the background.

The director called, “Action!”

She stepped closer to Kenan, her eyes locking with his. She could feel the tension in his body as he inhaled deeply, his jaw tightening slightly. To help him relax, she reached up and rested a hand on his chest, his touch gentle but grounding.

“Just you and me,” she whispered, barely audible but enough for him to hear.

His shoulders eased, and his eyes softened. Slowly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against hers. The kiss started hesitant, almost shy, but the familiarity between them guided the moment. Her fingers slid up to his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

Kenan’s hand rested at her waist, his grip firm but comforting. The world around them seemed to blur—there were no cameras, no crew, just the two of them sharing a moment that felt far too real for a scripted scene. When the kiss ended, his forehead rested against hers, his breathing slightly unsteady.

“Cut!” the director called out, sounding pleased. “That was perfect!”

Kenan pulled back, his ears tinged red as he avoided eye contact with the crew. He turned to his girlfriend, his voice low. “That didn’t feel like acting.”

She laughed softly, brushing her fingers against his cheek. “That’s because it wasn’t.”

Kenan smiled, his confidence growing as he realized how much he had nailed the moment. “Maybe I’m not so bad at this after all. But don’t get used to this—I’m not quitting football anytime soon.”

“Fair enough,” she replied, laughing softly. “But you’ll always be my favorite male lead.”

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simpcityy · 2 years ago

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I’m Not Her (Father Miguel O’Hara x Teen! Daughter Reader)

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is your biological father but it’s not great being his daughter when he’s hooked in the past still.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or any of its characters. This is very short as well! Just a little prompt I thought also, I know the song is about a girl who loves a boy etc., but I thought of it more as father and daughter way. *Ahem* Him thinking of Gabi rather than the present daughter he has…I’m sorry if I confused you.

Word Count: 500

Warnings: Use of female pronouns, Use of (Y/N), angst, Father Miguel, overall, it’s just sad. Uhhh I think that is all for now.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

Being the biological daughter of Miguel O’Hara has its ups and downs but mostly downs according to you. Walking through the Spider Society, you held some reports from Jess, she was on her way to hand them over to your father but seeing the kind person you are, you decided to do it for her so she can rest. You're amazed how a woman so pregnant can still fight. Walking down the halls, you were alone with your thoughts. The time he left to be a father to another girl..a girl named Gabriella…were you not enough for him? What did Gabi have that you didn’t? So many thoughts running through your head only to be snapped from hearing Mayday giggling in the room. Taking a deep breath, you pushed in ready for the chaos. “Hey! (Y/N)!” Peter smiles holding an energetic child. “Hey” You responded before looking over at Miguel who was looking at the videos that hurt you the most. Videos of him and Gabriella. You only frown a bit before masking it. “I'll just drop this off” You dropped the files onto a flat surface before walking to the door. “Hey Boo! You going to ask him?” Lyla appears in front of you smiling. You look at her and back to Miguel before shaking your head. “No…he has better things to do” You whisper walking through her, leaving. Lyla watches you staying quiet before next to Miguel. “Files were dropped.” She brought him back to reality. “Hmm? Who?” He mutters looking at the AI. He goes down his platform and picks up the files you left. “(Y/N) did, she was here not long ago” Lyla looks at her phone scrolling through it. Miguel looks at the door where you left not long ago.

Sitting out on the roof of your dimension, your thoughts only seem to be filling you up with anger. Why did he leave you to be a father for another kid…yeah, she lost her father but so did you…he left you to be with her. You groan out in frustration before looking at the time. “There is not enough time left” You mutter before getting up and going back to the house. A home where you stopped waiting for him to come home. Upon reaching your room, you changed into your pjs before walking over to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you pulled out a cake you ordered yourself from your favorite shop. Placing it on the table, you put the candles on and sat down in front of it. “Happy Birthday to me…happy birthday to me…” You began to sing before letting out a sob. Your candles were put out from your tears. Another year alone and many more to go.

“If I could be her…but I’m not her and she’s not me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: This was just little one-shot. An idea that always comes to mind whenever I listen to that amazing song! I am working on part 3 of the Biomedical Engineer x Miguel. Hopefully this weekend it comes out along with the last part of my first father figure Miguel x reader. Please check those out if you haven’t. I’m stuck if I should make this into a full series as well, but I don’t know if people would interest in it. Anyways, as always sorry for any grammar errors. Thank you all for the support! Remember to stay hydrated and to keep on simping! (Simp City Population: 62!) Thank you so much for the follows and please you are welcome to reblog my works for others to be aware of this new Miguel O’Hara simp writer!

#miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara fic #across the spiderverse fic #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x platonic reader #Miguel O’Hara x daughter reader #father figure miguel ohara

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farfaras · 2 years ago

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First part to this prompt I posted the other day. This is gonna be eventual steddie (sorry, stonathan) and I’m really excited. Title from the song ‘nonsense’ by Sabrina Carpenter.

I think I got an ex but I forgot him

Part 1. (You’re here)

Part 2.

If he heard the words: Robin and in love, in the same sentence, with the melodious voice of one Dustin Henderson, one more time. Steve was sure he was gonna lose it.

Listen, he understands where he’s coming from. The kid just wants him to be happy. But he is! Dustin just doesn’t seem to get that. Happiness doesn’t only come in the form of a relationship. His teenage brain can’t comprehend that fact just yet. He wishes he did though, because he’s absolutely insufferable about getting Steve and Robin together.

No excuse or explanation he gives is good enough. Dustin still insists that he needs to try, that this is his chance at true love. Robin is kind of the love of his life, sure, but the platonic love of his life. His best friend, his soulmate, sister from another mister. All that jazz. Dustin doesn’t buy it though.

And Steve’s tried everything! He even told Dustin about that time in starcourt when they were high off his asses. Told him that he confessed his crush to Robin but that she rejected him, and that they were best friends now and nothing else. He obviously left out the part where Robin came out to him. He’s never gonna reveal Robin’s secret to anyone. The only answer he got was that “It doesn’t even matter now! Things could’ve changed! You never know.” Steve knew. He knew that he would never be into his best friend like that, and she would never be into him. Apparently they were the only ones who knew that.

Because of all the fuss Dustin was constantly making, other people started giving their input. Thanks Dustin. They didn’t get it either, didn’t believe they were just Platonic with a capital P. They made sure they knew it too, the whole party, Nancy, Jonathan, Eddie. Not Argyle, he said that the energy between Steve and Robin was intense but completely friendly, almost like they were twins. Steve liked Argyle. Of course he had to be miles away.

Most of their friends dropped the subject after the second time Steve or Robin explained the nature of their relationship. Even if they weren’t convinced, they didn’t push. Except for one person. Yep. Dustin.

Who was currently harassing Steve at his job. He didn’t know what else to tell him. If family video wasn’t empty he would just ignore him to do his job but there was nothing to do. He couldn’t even sweep or anything because everything was already done.

“Okay well! There must be a good reason why you guys haven’t gotten together!” Dustin exclaimed. He is so fucking stubborn.

“I already told you, Henderson. We’re. Just. Friends.” He knew it wasn’t gonna do anything. It was just a routine at this point.

Dustin’s expression changed to determination. “Nuh uh. There’s a reason there. And I’m gonna find out!” Shit. Could Dustin figure out Robin? He doesn’t think so. But he’s starting to panic. What if he finds out? Robin doesn’t deserve that. He’d feel like it was his fault, and everything would go to shit.

“Okay! Okay! There is a reason.”

“I knew it! You have to tell me.” Dustin demanded. Well, Steve hasn’t thought that much ahead. He needs to come up with something and he needs to do it fast if Dustin is gonna believe it.

“Look, I haven’t told anyone this before.” Building suspense, nice.

Then, an idea popped into his head and it seemed like the perfect response to all of this. Or maybe it’s the only thing he could think of in such short notice. “I’m gay.” He blurts out. It made sense in his head, really. Robin doesn’t get outed, but she can still look at the reaction she might get when she comes out. (It doesn’t hold any kind of truth at all. Not one Steve can see right now at least.)

Dustin is just staring at him. “What? I don’t, you’re not, since when?”

“Since I was born?” It sounds like a question. Steve didn’t prepare for follow up questions to the reply he literally just crafted.

“There’s no way you’re gay.” At least he didn’t seem disgusted or upset? Is this a good or bad reaction?

“Are you not okay with it?” Steve dared to ask.

“What?! Of course I’m okay with it, I’m just. I don’t care, but you don’t really seem gay. It’s hard to believe.” At least he’s okay with it. He’s still being stubborn.

“Way to stereotype, Henderson.”

Dustin sputters. “Wha- can you even blame me? Who could believe you?”

The next words that came out of Steve’s mouth didn’t actually ask for permission to be said. “My boyfriend can believe it.” He said it so matter of fact that he surprised himself a little. The way he usually took the route of action before thinking was gonna bite him in the ass some day. Would that be today?

“Boyfriend?!! And you didn’t tell me? You don’t have a boyfriend!” He accused Steve. “Who is it?”

Oh. Shoot. Quick, brain. Who could be his boyfriend? Someone his age, that was single, and could be believed to be in a gay relationship.

“It’s Jonathan.” Why did he say that? He just broke up with Nancy, that would just seem like a messy situation. Also is he literally just doing what he scolded Dustin for and stereotyping?

“But he just broke up with Nancy.” Hmm. Did Dustin read his mind or something.

“It’s new. That’s why I haven’t told anyone.”

“Not even Robin?” Oh, crap. Is he gonna have to tell this to people? Well, he should probably tell Jonathan first that he is apparently in a relationship with him now.

“Not even Robin.” Dustin beamed at this.

“You know, even if you and Jonathan are kind of a weird sounding couple, and this is surprising… if you’re happy then I’m happy for you, Steve.” That was weirdly sweet of Dustin.

“Thanks, bud.”

After that and renting a movie, Dustin was on his way. He gave Steve a hug goodbye and hopped on his bike to go home.

Steve had a lot of things to get done now. And he hoped that the first one went well because he didn’t really have a plan B if it didn’t. What had he gotten himself into?

First things first. Asking Jonathan to be his fake boyfriend.

At least for a while.

What could go wrong?

Step 1. Get Jonathan to be his fake boyfriend.

Step 2. Probably get Robin in on it?

He’s not sure about that one. This situation was kind of embarrassing, he’d rather just share his embarrassment with the one person who is absolutely necessary. Also Robin doesn’t seem like the type to lie to their friends. Even if it was harmless.

Step 2. Probably get Robin in on it?

Step 2. Make a game plan.

They’d probably need to talk about how this was gonna go. Get all their facts straight in case there were any questions, which there were going to be. Plan how long this was gonna be for. He was getting a bit ahead of himself, but there was no plan B.

Step 3. Hope it’s believable.

He was already outside of the Hopper-Byers home. This shouldn’t be hard, Jonathan is a pretty understanding guy. He wouldn’t judge Steve, or make fun of him. At least that’s what Steve hoped. They’ve been developing a friendship for a while. Which has been going surprisingly well. Fuck. Was this gonna mess it up?

He got out of his car and walked to the door, knocking. El answered the door, she gave him a smile and let him in.

“Is Jonathan home?” Him asking for Jonathan wasn’t a rare occurrence nowadays, so El just nodded and pointed to his room.

He knocked to make his presence known. “Hey, Jon?” He opened the door and stepped inside the room.

“Hiya. What’s up, Harrington?” Jonathan grinned at Steve. Ah. Shit. He didn’t look completely sober. Must’ve smoked something earlier.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you. I’d rather wait until you sober up though.” Jonathan just gave him a thumbs up.

“Happy to have company.” Steve knew Jonathan was having trouble dealing with the break up. They had been together for a while and he thought that those two were gonna beat all the odds and marry each other or something. Maybe they still could find their way back to each other someday. Right now though, it probably sucked.

Nancy was off to college, Jonathan stayed here in Hawkins doing community college. There was no way of knowing how Nancy was taking it, she barely called and when she did it was kinda cut and dry. Although Steve supposed that was a way of telling she wasn’t doing so good either.

They hung out, doing nothing in particular. Just talking, listening to music and Steve sobering him up.

“Did you say you wanted to talk about something?” Jon asked. He looked sober now. Or as sober as his perpetual stoner face could look.

“Yeah… I kinda did something stupid.”

“Don’t we all.” Cute. Was he trying to make him feel better? It would’ve worked if what he did wasn’t as stupid as it was.

“No, seriously. I think this is the dumbest thing I have done.” Understatement.

“It can’t be that bad.” Jon’s words weren’t aligned with his face because it looked like he was starting to worry.

“It has something to do with you too.” With those words, Steve definitely made Jonathan start to worry. “Hear me out first!”

Retelling the events from earlier was excruciating. Steve has never felt this embarrassed before. It sounded so dumb saying it out loud.

“You really couldn’t come up with anything else? Like oh I don’t know. Saying you don’t like Robin like that?” It was like he wasn’t even listening.

“I tried that thousands of times! He wouldn’t buy it!”

“Why haven’t you just dated anyone else? To prove that you’re not hung up on her?” Interesting line of questioning. Honestly, it’s been a long time since someone has made him feel anything at all. No girl caught his attention like before. Has the upside down messed him up so bad that he can’t form romantic connections anymore?

“I just, I don’t really. Taking a break from dating sounded good to me.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” Jon didn’t believe him, whatever.

“Look I just panicked, spoke without thinking.”

“You know, I actually thought that Dustin was right about you and Robin before. But if you’re so determined to prove you’re not, to even come up with something like that.” Steve hated this. Was Jonathan getting a kick out of this?

“Are you amused? I’m kinda suffering here.” Steve lamented. “Can you just please help me?

“Oh god, what do you expect me to do? Pretend to date you to get Dustin off your back?” Yes. Please.

“Look! I only ask for a few weeks! It doesn’t have to be for long. Just, a few weeks of fake dating and then just say it didn’t work out and we decided to stay friends. All that cheesy stuff.” God, he was not being convincing at all.

Jonathan still looked skeptical. But at least he was considering it now. “I’ll owe you, big time. Whatever favor you want.” Steve offered.

Jon looked resigned now. He huffed out a breath. “I never thought my first boyfriend was gonna be Steve Harrington.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I always pictured a nerd or maybe a stoner.” He was confused now. Was Jonathan? “Yes, Steve. You should probably know if we’re gonna do this. I also like guys. And I’m assuming you’re okay with it, considering what you just asked.”

“Of course! Thanks for telling me. I’m glad you could trust me.” He was being genuine. Even if Steve was a little surprised, and now felt even more guilty about words he used in the past to insult Jonathan. All the past apologies seemed insufficient. Even so, he was happy that their friendship could develop into this.

“So? How is this gonna work? You really owe me now, you know.”

“Trust me, I know.”

So their friendship wasn’t ruined. Who knows? Maybe this could make it stronger.

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ilguna · 1 year ago

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Can I get 6 and 23 from list 2 with Finnick please?

☼ sunburst (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, gun use, blood mention, ehh gore.

wc; 2.5k

prompt; 6. "I know, it hurts. I'm so sorry, but we have to get this out." AND 23. "You need to keep your eyes open. Just a little longer."

When you were recruited to be a part of the mission to storm the Capitol, you were under the impression that you’d actually be in some danger. You spent weeks training in District Thirteen, thinking that you were going to be running for your life every waking moment. It was supposed to be more like being inside of an arena, than a walk on the bad side of District Four.

Both of which you can handle, for the record.

What you can’t handle is the boredom that comes with being a member of the Star Squad. While you were told you’d be at the front lines with the rest of the rebels, the reality is that you’re stuck days behind them. President Coin is too afraid of putting their precious Mockingjay into danger.

It’s an interesting concept, considering that Katniss has expressed no issue in the past surrounding the idea of putting her life on the line. The first time she did this was when she wanted to get sent to District Eight, an active battlezone, to see the citizens there. The next time was District Two, where a gun was held to her head, and she still proceeded to give a speech, and got shot for it.

You suppose that’s the exact problem, though. She can be a magnet for trouble, whether she intends to be or not. In that case, you’re not sure why they didn’t tell you that you’d be stuck here with a mixed group, beforehand. You might’ve changed your mind and found a different way to help the rebellion.

And it’s not like you haven’t tried to have patience, because you have. It’s been severely run thin by the propo team—a camera crew from the Capitol, their only job being to film videos to slice together to show the districts. Their incessant need to get a shot of absolutely everything that’s going on has got you beyond irritated.

They’re so demanding with it, and all it is is a bunch of bullshit. They want you to walk down the street the right way, looking fierce and in the middle of battle. When in reality, there’s no one for a several mile radius, and all the threats are being given away by the Holo. A device that was made to tell you where the traps, the pods, are.

If you could, you’d tell them that you’re done participating, but you really have no choice. You’ve been seen in so many of their other videos, that it’ll make the districts and the Capitol question why you’re not in the rest. Either they’ll think that you died, or that you’ve decided the rebellion isn’t worth fighting for.

Which isn’t true in the slightest. You just think that it’s morally wrong to be back here, pretending like you’re fighting, when the faceless rebels at the front lines are the ones almost getting killed everyday. You want to be up there, with them.

The rebels ahead don’t set off all the pods, though. They leave the mild ones behind, marking them as such, assuming that the group behind them will take it out when they pass. That group happens to be you.

Sometimes, Boggs, the squad leader, will see a pod on the Holo, so he’ll ask for volunteers to set it off, naturally. You don’t even know what the point of raising your hand is, anymore. He won’t call on you, or Finnick, or Katniss. He keeps his attention on the District Thirteen trained soldiers to do the important tasks.

Despite the fact that you had, once again, spent weeks training to be able to do something like that.

What will happen is that Katniss will pretend to set off the pod with an arrow at a distance, to keep her from getting hurt by accident. While a soldier off to the side will trigger it. This makes the rest of you all duck for cover, afraid of whatever the pod has to offer. And when it’s all said and done, and you’re ready to move on, the next step is to reenact your reactions to defending yourself from whatever threat came out of the pod.

It’s been four days of this, and it’s driving you crazy. You’ll spend a few hours pretending to fight, and then return to camp for the rest of the night, safely out of harm's way. It’s taking everything in you not to ask Boggs to leave to go back to the Nut, where the rest of the rebel soldiers are. Maybe there, you can get reassigned.

The problem would be convincing Finnick to go with you, because he doesn’t mind being in the Star Squad. He thinks it’s great, because that means you’re not in any immediate danger. After what they did to Peeta, the last thing he wants is for the Capitol to potentially get their hands on you, or for you to die.

Neither of which you plan on letting happen.

The only way you’ll be able to get him to leave is if you do it without bringing it up to him first. Cut out the whole conversation on how he’d prefer if you went with Coin’s plan, instead of making your own. He has a way with words, and he knows this. That’s why your resolve can crumble in the matter of fifteen minutes, all because he’s the one reasoning with you.

That’s what you’ll do tonight then; you’ll go talk to Boggs.

The Holo begins to beep loudly, warning your squad that you’re coming close to a pod. Boggs slows his pace, opening it up to take a look. When he comes to a full stop, so do you.

A sigh escapes you, Finnick glances over, watching as you turn around to take a few steps away. This is the fourth pod that you’ve come across today, meaning that Boggs will probably call it a day after this. Even though you’ve covered more distance today than you have the past three.

“The Holo says it’s going to be a swarm of muttation gnats.” Boggs says, “Who wants to hit it?”

You turn to face the squad, watching as almost every hand flies up, with the exception of you, Finnick and Katniss. Even Gale, Katniss’s best friend from Twelve, has his hand raised. You think he’s been tasked once, which is the hope he’s probably holding on to.

Regardless, Boggs motions at one of the Leeg twins. “Leeg, I want you. The rest of you, go find someone to stand in the meantime.”

You cross your arms over your chest, shaking your head. “Predictable.”

“Come on, (Y/n).” Finnick grabs the underside of your arm, pulling you with him to the other side of the street.

The pod is disguised as an electrical box on the side of an orange shop. If it weren’t for the Holo, you wouldn’t have suspected a thing of it, but that’s the whole point. The pods are hidden in plain sight, meant for your eyes to glance over them, so that they can kill you later on.

The best the Capitol can do is gnats?

“Okay, Katniss, we’ll focus on pulling the arrow back, and holding it.” Cressida begins, she’s the one that has the specific propo visions. If this doesn’t go according to her plan, she’ll rework it and have Katniss do it over again until it’s right.

“Just a regular arrow?” Katniss asks, reaching back to grab one.

“No, we’ll have Leeg set off the pod, and then you’ll use an explosive arrow to kill the gnats.” Cressida says, looking at Boggs. He gives her an approving nod.

“What happens when that shot isn’t good enough and we have to start over?” You mutter, Finnick bumps your shoulder.

“I know you’re unhappy, but can we please not make enemies out of the people that could save our lives?” Finnick asks.

You look at Finnick, “I’m not making promises I won’t keep.”

You watch as Cressida gives Katniss directions on where to stand and how to hold her bow. This gives the cameramen, Castor and Pollux, enough time to find their angles, because realistically, there won’t be an opportunity for reshoots. With one of them on Katniss, and the other on the pod, Cressida gives Boggs the go ahead.

“On the count of three, Leeg.” Boggs tells her. Finnick adjusts his footing, prepared to duck if necessary. You don’t move from where you stand, staring dead at the pod. “One, two, three!”

Leeg shoots at the pod, piercing the metal that encases the gnats, leaving bullet holes. The sound of metal on metal screeches through the quiet street, as the door swings open, releasing what’s inside.

A startled scream comes from you as piercing pains hit you all across your body, throwing you back onto the ground. The back of your head slams against the cement of the sidewalk, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut, as the world begins to spin.

“(Y/n)?” Finnick’s voice wavers.

The punctured points in your body begin to deepen, as the shrapnel from the box begins to burrow in your skin. You grunt, writhing, eyes opening suddenly to see it for yourself.

It’s not shrapnel, they’re metal darts, and they've got claws that are digging into your skin.

“No!” Someone cries.

“We need the medic team!” Jackson barks, her voice is clear. “We’ve got two down, Boggs!”

“Copy.” He says.

From what you can tell, you got a brunt of the hit, a consequence of not taking cover like you were instructed to. There’s over a dozen of these, stuck in your body, going deeper as the seconds tick on.

“Get them out.” Your voice is rough, as you reach to grab one. “Get them out of me!”

“(Y/n), honey—” Finnick seizes your hand, keeping you from doing it. “Stop, leave them.”

“They’re in me!” You cry, “They’re going to kill me.”

“We can’t take them out. We learned this, remember? They’re stinting the blood, we have to wait for—”

“No, she’s right.” Katniss is standing at your feet. “Look at them.”

You don’t want to, not when they all move at once, ripping your skin open further. You can see the brief stream of blood in the air, before it’s gone, covered by the dart. It’s not large enough to block the chunk of skin it’s pulled from your body, though, because the blood begins to pool, quickly.

“Shit.” Finnick says.

There’s a girl crying, when you lift your head to see, you find that it’s the other Leeg sister, on her knees, next to the first one. The one that had shot at the pod, now has a dart sticking out of the side of her head. It’s already found her brain.

She’s dead.

You begin to breathe heavier when you realize that this will be your fate, too, if they don’t start to pull them out. Which must be the same conclusion that Finnick comes to, because he rolls back his sleeves, hands hovering over one of them.

You grab the heel of his shoe, knowing that you’ll need something to hold on to. He gives you a look, and you nod quickly, urging him to do it. The second that his hand is around the dart, it begins to wiggle. To keep it from going further, he yanks.

You scream, throwing your head back, body tense, as the entire world goes white. It clings on, refusing to be pulled off in just one attempt.

“Stop!” You tell them, “Stop!”

“Katniss, I need help.” Finnick says.

She drops her bow without question to get to her knees to help him. You watch through blurred tears as she holds the dart while he pries the claws apart. It’s like a thousand needles jabbing into your skin repeatedly, refusing to leave the area alone.

And then they get it free, and the first tear slides down your cheek.

The metal clinks on the ground from Katniss dropping it.

You can’t help the sob that breaks through your lips. This is just the beginning isn’t it?

“Hold on, honey.” He tells you.

“I don’t—”

He begins to pull at this dart, more aggressive than he was the first time. Unprepared, you cry through gritted teeth, squeezing his shoe. He manages to unhook it faster this time, but that means little to you.

Him and Katniss go back and forth, pulling them out of the areas they think will hurt the least. There’s a few times where their hands slip, which causes an indescribable pain.

The pool of blood beneath you is growing. You can feel the puddle reach your fingers on your free hand, coating your skin in red.

“There’s only two left, (Y/n).” Finnick smooths your hair back. “These will hurt the most.”

“Just wait.” You tell him, grabbing onto the bunched sleeve.

“We can’t stop, or it’ll keep digging in.” He tells you. “Breathe, okay?”

“Finnick.” You warn, bracing yourself when he secures his hand around the metal dart, beginning to pull.

The feeling of your guts being yanked from your body, makes the dark spots at the corners of your vision come around quickly. For a moment, you’re gone, drifting off into the peaceful voice, until Finnick’s lifting your head up with one hand.

“You need to keep your eyes open. Just a little longer.” Finnick tells you

“I can’t.” You sniff. “I want to be done.”

“One more.” He tells you, lowering your head back to the ground.

“No.” Your lips tremble.

He grabs the dart, you squeeze your eyes shut. “Please! Please, please, please! It hurts!”

“I know, it hurts.” Finnick says, he doesn’t sound very happy that he has to do this to you. “I’m so sorry, baby, but we have to get this out.”

This one has decided to hold on, taking twice as long as it normally does. For a second, it almost slips out of their hands, when Finnick’s able to pry the claws open.

A faint sense of relief floods through you, but it’s gone when your body begins to tingle. “Finnick.” You whisper. With a shaky hand, you dip your fingers into one of the many wounds that will end up being scars. The exposed raw flesh against your fingers makes you nauseous.

It subsides slightly when you pull your hand out, and find an orange substance mixed with the blood.

Poison.

“No.” Finnick says, looking at Boggs, presumably. “How far out are the medics?”

“They’ll be here any minute.” He says, coming over to see better.

“They need to have an antidote ready.” Finnick’s voice echoes, bouncing back and forth in your head, as he splits into two people, then four…

Your eyes flutter shut.

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

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alwaysurvalentine · 5 months ago

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bad days are meant to be shared - st fic

Written for Day 10 of @steddieangstyaugust - prompt: "Where were you?" - word count: 3.7k - cw: some cussing, mentions of nausea but no vomiting (Steve Harrington centric, but Eddie saves the day)

enjoy! 💛

Working at Family Video is fine. It really is. It can be mindless but Steve doesn’t mind it, or at least he doesn’t mind when he wakes up feeling refreshed. Instead he got to wake up feeling groggy, a heaviness settling in his head that he knows can turn into a migraine if he isn’t careful. His heartbeat is already pulsing through his body but he figures the medicine he took this morning with his coffee should hold off the worst of it until Robin comes in. She’ll be able to talk to the customers and he can just focus on restocking the shelves and rewinding tapes. He’s just got to make it until 2. Only one hour to go until she walks in and so far it’s been pretty quiet for a Friday. Only one more hour and then he won’t have to answer the phone when it rings or-

Speaking of the phone, it starts to ring and he sighs. He wishes he didn’t have to answer, but would rather answer than listen to it continue to ring – acting like an ice pick to his brain.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, how can I help you?”

“Steve! Hey!” Robin’s out of breath on the other end of the line and Steve can picture her wrestling jeans on while talking on the phone. “Can you do me a huuuuge favor? Can you please please cover for me today? Chrissy invited me out to the lake for a picnic!”

He knows he’s going to regret it, especially with how his head already feels, but he also knows she’s covered for him before. Plus, he’s been dying to tell her ‘I told you so’ about the whole Chrissy Situation (TM), since Robin refuses to believe the other girl likes her. Steve’s seen cheerleaders flirt, he knows what it means that Chrissy always finds a way to touch Robin in some way. Examples include bumping shoulders while they walk all the way to brushing Robin’s hair behind her ears – Steve swears she’s hopeless. The girl can figure out Russian in no time, but a girl flirting with her? Might as well be the nuclear codes. Though he thinks Robin could figure that out faster.

“Yeah, Robs. ‘Course I can.” His voice comes out more gruff than he intended, but the light from the front window is just hitting his eyes worse than it was before. The echo of his pounding heartbeat intensifies. There’s a small pause on the other end of the phone, damn Robin and her ability to read him. “Someone’s about to walk in – talk later?”

“Sure, but Ste-” He hangs up. No one’s walking up to the store but Steve stands behind the register for a moment regardless. He crosses his arms on the counter in front of him and leans against them for a couple breaths. Now he’s got four hours to go before he can leave and no one to cover for him if this headache does become a migraine. Hopefully Hawkins will decide to go to the actual movie theater in town rather than coming in for a rental. Four hours until he gets to go home. Where he planned on cooking dinner for Eddie tonight, shit. His head throbs at the idea. No, it’ll be fine. He’ll make it through his shift, make dinner for Eddie, call Robin to ask about her date, clean up dinner, and then go to bed. Imagining his and Eddie’s bed, soft sheets and fluffy pillows gives him some hope; imagining Eddie’s arms around him when he falls asleep brings a small smile to his face.

The bell attached to the front door rings and he sighs before standing straight, his customer service smile already painted on his face when he realizes it’s Dustin that’s walked through the door. As always, his curls are wild under his cap, and he’s wearing his green ‘Camp Know Where’ shirt.

“Steve! Get this! So was messing around with my mom’s radio to see what parts I could use to make my own phonograph -” And the pulsing is back. Steve knows as long as he keeps on nodding every so often and places a couple ‘oh really?’s in there Dustin will carry this whole conversation on his own. Dustin’s mom is a saint, but Steve knows that sometimes her suggestions for ‘Dusty’ to get some air is to give her some time alone in the house. Which usually leads him to wherever Steve is or the rest of the Party – Steve seems to be the lucky winner today.

A family makes their way into the store, Mrs. Dawson and her two boys. Steve doesn’t remember their names but he eyes them as they race off to the cartoon section of the shelves. Mrs. Dawson sets down a couple movies in front of him on the counter, a grimace on her face. Her lipstick is a bright pink that almost hurts to look at.

“Let me just pull up your account to get this squared away. Did you need help finding anything today?” His voice sounds plastic even to him, and distantly he can hear Dustin still talking about the pieces of the camcorder. What the hell is a beam splitter? Anyway – Amelia Dawson’s record shows the two movies on the counter, she’s turning them in on the last day before late fees but that’s fine. He checks that she’s returned them and goes to grab the cases (Robin Hood and Pete’s Dragon smile up at him from their plastic covers); now that he has his hands on them – are very sticky. Like dipped in caramel sticky. Luckily Mrs. Dawson’s attention is back on her boys who have decided to try and play tag in the aisles, uncaring of their elbows catching on movies at the end of shelves and leaving them to clatter on the floor. Steve fights a gag at the feeling and scoots the movies to the side of the counter, he can rewind them later.

“So as I was saying, now I just have to get a couple of parts from Radio Shack and I should be able to record my own waves and see what they look like. If I can do that, then-” Steve tunes him out again, nodding along like he has any idea about what Dustin is talking about. Why does he need to see how words sound?

“Boys, come on now, we don’t want to keep daddy waiting – let’s go. Time for a late lunch.” Luckily, the twins – who he finally remembers are Michael and Matthew – take off towards the door at their mom’s words. Pushing at each other to see who’s going to get there first. The cardboard cut out for the month, Sigourney Weaver’s character from Aliens, falls to the floor in their wake but at least the store is noticeably quieter without them. Dustin asks to use the bathroom and Steve just nods as he rounds the counter. The movies that fell earlier get placed on the shelf and he makes a mental note to move them to the right places before he leaves today. He’s standing the cutout back up when he gets hit with a wave of nausea. He closes his eyes and slowly inhales, knows if he pukes now the rest of his shift will be absolute hell. With his eyes closed it’s a lot easier to hone in on the sounds of the fluorescent lights. Normally it’s a gentle buzz in the background, but today the lights seem to be doing their best impression of a drum line that just won’t quit. The nausea lessens and Steve glances at his watch. Just three hours left to go.

“Steve, what do you think?” Hazel eyes blink and Dustin comes into focus again, his eyes expectant. Steve knows he’s waiting for an answer to something but he genuinely has no idea what was just asked of him. Dustin’s eyebrows furrow slightly as the silence continues. Steve’s head is still throbbing and he can feel his heartbeat all the way down to his fingers.

“What did you say?”

Dustin huffs, rolling his eyes before repeating(?) his question. “I said, do you think that we can record the sound of silence as a sound wave? Because when it’s quiet your ears can make that ringing noise, do you think it’s quantifiable? And if it is, do you think there’s some kind of link to that sound to the part of the ear that is affected by deafness?”

Steve knows all of those words individually, but thinking of them in a sequence that makes sense to him right now is not happening. He even knows what Dustin means by the ringing noise, but he didn’t realize other people heard that too – thought that was just a him thing. Dustin must be able to tell he doesn’t have an answer because he crosses his arms.

“Do you even listen to me when I’m talking?” Steve shouldn’t, especially with how riled up Dustin already appears to be, but he tunes him out again. Choosing instead to focus on the man walking through the door behind his friend.

“Welcome to Family Video!”

Distantly Steve wonders if Robin and Chrissy are having a good time at the lake, it’s been a sunny day. Probably hot enough to swim honestly. He feels bad for thinking it, but he hopes that Eddie’s bandmates are gone by the time he gets home. Normally he’d be fine with them at the apartment since they help bring out the best in Eddie, but he knows that they can also get pretty loud, especially if they’re messing with their instruments. He still needs to reorganize the shelves and rewind a couple films before the end of his shift. The thought of dinner makes his stomach turn and he wishes he could just go to bed once he gets home. But tonight’s his turn to cook, him and Eddie switching off days to make sure no one’s cooking all of the time.

“Excuse me?” A hand snaps in front of his face, bringing his attention to Mr. Jameson’s annoyed face. “Can you check me out or not? I don’t see anyone else here.” His words bite and Steve silently nods. Glancing at the title before looking up his name in the system. The screen is blurry and all the words look like one long dark line across the screen.

“Sorry, sir. Your total is-” before Steve could finish a five dollar bill was placed on the counter. “Okay, your change is $3.50. Here you-”

“No, you owe me four dollars back. Not $3.50. This is why I normally have that girl check me out. You’d think you’d know how much to charge by now.”

“No sir, it’s 50 cents per day, and typical rental time is three days. So that’s $1.50 which makes your change $3.50.” The change sits in Steve’s hand, two quarters pinched between his index finger and thumb. Mr. Jameson stares him down, eyes filled with anger, and Steve’s over it. Whatever, he’s got 5o cents in his car that he can put in the drawer to make it balanced later. He pops open the drawer and pulls out another dollar, dropping the quarters back into their slot. Four dollar bills are snatched from his hand and Mr. Jameson grunts before stomping out the door.

“Steve? What the hell? You’re just going to let him talk to you like that?” Dustin’s voice is shrill when he talks, getting higher near the end, and Steve just breaks.

“Please shut up.” Dustin’s mouth closes with a snap, a look of hurt on his face. Steve wants to say more, explain that having his eyes opens hurts and that he can’t be bothered with customers who don’t know how to be decent; can’t be bothered with remembering what parts of the radio and camcorder and VCR player Dustin took apart for his personal project. He wants to explain that he really needs to put a cold compress on his head and lay down in the pitch black silence of his room for a few hours to be human again.

None of this makes its way out of his tense jaw though and Dustin must decide he’s done with Steve for the day because he says nothing before turning and making his way towards the door. Fuck.

The last two hours of Steve’s shift passes in a blur. Someone tries to call the phone and instead of answering he covers his ears until the ringing stops and then unhooks it from the receiver. A couple of girls try fluttering their eyes at him to see what his weekend plans are but all he can think about is how he’s going to get through dinner with Eddie, and they finally leave with a disappointed glance at each other.

Finally, he’s able to turn the open sign around – and then he remembers he never organized the movies from earlier. He fixes the shelves by dwindling sunlight, having shut off the overhead lights as soon as he could. It takes him about 30 minutes to fix it all, pausing every so often to just stand with his eyes closed. The words have lost their meanings and he hopes that basing his sorting off of the cover pictures is good enough.

Sitting in his car is the most relief Steve’s gotten all day. Eyes closed behind sunglasses he had clipped on his visor and the engine off he takes the time to breathe; the nausea has been coming and going on its own in waves and he almost wishes he could just go to sleep in his car. Getting back to the apartment is only possible through muscle memory and the knowledge that dinner still has to be made. He waits another few minutes in the car, trying to decide if any of the cars outside are of the band’s, or if he’s officially got Eddie all to himself. For the first time today he feels lucky when he doesn’t see Jeff’s car.

Living on the second floor has its benefits, like not having upstairs neighbors and getting lots of natural sunlight for the apartment. It also has its downsides, like carrying heavy groceries in the heat and getting up to their door in one piece when a migraine has him by the throat. Even his key turning in the lock makes him cringe, clenching his teeth together as he steps in. It’s quiet in the apartment, a certain stillness in the air that Steve appreciates. He toes off his shoes, setting his keys in the little ceramic bowl El gifted him and Eddie when they moved, and then bends to straighten his shoes to the wall. Bending does not help his nausea and he swallows down a gag.

“Stevie, honey? You make it home?” Eddie rounds the corner, a grin already on his face. His hair rests on his shoulders, frizzy curls around his head like a halo. Steve musters a small smile at Eddie, closing the distance between them with a few steps. The shirt Eddie’s wearing is well worn, old enough now that the words on the front have faded into the black around them and the collar is stretched out enough that Steve can almost see the top of a spider’s leg.

“Hey, hungry?” Normally Steve matches Eddie’s energy as best he can, but he can already feel his energy draining again. Should’ve sat in the car for a little while longer. He presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s cheek and continues his path to the kitchen.

“You read my mind. You okay with cooking while I finish up some stuff before dinner? I promise you’ll have me all to yourself once food is ready. Just have some chords to figure out after talking with Gareth about some timing stuff.” Steve hopes Eddie’s looking when he nods because all of the movement from the stairs has caught up to him and he doesn’t think he has it in him to speak right now.

Alone in the kitchen Steve just breathes. Almost done. Just have to brown the meat, toss it into some sauce and make the noodles. Easy.

All of the ingredients are sitting on the counter when Steve finally loses the battle with his nausea and darts to the bathroom. He keeps the lights off, more focused on kneeling on the tile and trying to breathe through his gagging. A few minutes go by and he’s able to take a full breath in – just sitting down has taken the edge off. The darkness of the bathroom is more than welcome, he just wishes he wasn’t crouched over in his jeans still. Soft footsteps sound from the hallway heading towards the kitchen, guess Eddie finished his stuff.

“Stevie? Where’d you go?” As much as he’d love to answer, the effort it would take to yell for Eddie isn’t worth it right now so instead Steve leans against the tub, coolness spreading across his back. Another moment passes and Eddie rounds the corner to the bathroom, confusion on his face.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Three words and the dam holding Steve together just, breaks. His head pounds worse when the tears start but he can’t stop now that he’s started. Today sucked. And now his night’s going just as poorly. Can’t even get dinner made. Eddie’s still looking at him but he can’t make out his expression through the tears blurring his vision.

“Okay, alright, come here.” And then Eddie’s kneeling on the ground, arms outstretched for Steve to lean in to. As soon as he leans in, he’s crumpling into Eddie’s arms.

Steve’s not sure how long they sit there, him crying into Eddie’s shirt, but the collar is nice and damp by the time he pulls away.Disgusting.

“As much as I love this surprise cuddle session, wanna tell me what’s going on?” He knows Eddie doesn’t mean to, but the sound of his boyfriend’s voice almost seems to echo in the bathroom. Steve shakes his head and whines, tries to burrow further into Eddie – done with pretending. His head hurts and his whole body feels heavy like concrete. Right now the best thing in the world is having his eyes shut, head tucked into Eddie’s neck, and having his back rubbed. Without an answer though, Eddie leans back, staring at Steve hard like he’s going to hear the answer if he thinks at Steve hard enough.

“Head.” Just one word takes a herculean effort and Steve watches as recognition lights in Eddie’s eyes. Finally. And then Steve blinks long and slow.

When Steve cracks his eyes open again he’s greeted by the wall of his and Eddie’s bedroom instead of the white of the bathroom. His head is still pounding but at least it’s dark in here, the curtains are drawn and he has a feeling even if they were open only the moon would greet him. He knows Eddie’s not currently in the room because the air feels still, and distantly he thinks he can hear movement in the kitchen.

Shit, dinner. He was supposed to cook dinner tonight. He hears the small creak of the door opening and he shuts his eyes again – he’s not ready to see or talk to Eddie yet. Embarrassment heats his face remembering how much he cried earlier, not that Eddie hasn’t seen him in worse states. But Steve Harrington taken down by a simple headache? Stupid. Can’t even contribute to the house like Eddie. Can’t keep up with Dustin when he talks. Can’t be happy for his best friend when she lands a date.

“Hey, baby. Gotta wake up, I want you to take some medicine and drink some water.” A gentle hand is on Steve’s calf, rubbing slightly to ‘wake’ him. He burrows deeper into the blankets instead of rolling over.

“Baby…” And now Eddie just sounds disheartened, another person Steve needs to apologize to. Eddie first, for crying for no reason. Then Dustin for not listening to his rant. Then Robin for not being more excited for her. “Medicine and then water, then you can sleep some more. Come on.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve rolls over, tugging the blanket with him . He’s miserable and can’t think of anything better than sleep. Tomorrow he can make it up to Eddie; make him breakfast, do the laundry, make a grocery list, ask him how handing out with the guys went, check in about -

“-vie, I need you to focus for just a couple minutes. Where do you keep going? Get out of that head of yours, can’t imagine it’s helping your migraine.” The words are whispered and Steve blinks at Eddie. Brown eyes meet his and he manages a small smile.

“Sorry.”

“No need for all that. If you’d listened the first time you’d know I don’t mind. I love getting to take care of you. I love you. Stop worrying about whatever it is, there’s nothing you need to make up for – so no more apologies.” Eddie’s so earnest when he talks, a smile on his face causing small dimples to form. He’s holding a glass of water in one hand and a couple of pills in the other, but it’s the damp washcloth Steve can see draped on his wrist that brings a tear to his eye. Doesn’t matter if Eddie never said those three words again, his actions say them enough. Damp wash cloths when Steve’s head hurts, standing up for Steve when one of the kid’s decides they don’t want to explain a reference they make, or even when he flashes him a knowing smile behind Robin’s head when she’s talking about Chrissy. He’s full of love, and no matter how much Steve might feel like he’s messed up – he knows Eddie’s got enough love for him too.

“Hey, why are we crying? Sit up and take these.” With a small sniffle Steve nods, sits up, and takes the medicine. The washcloth is cool on his skin where Eddie rests it, letting him burrow back into the blankets – and the last thing he feels is a gentle kiss to his cheek before sleep takes him again.

#everyone say thank you to a new friend helping me with this idea and looking this over for me 💛#steve harrington #Steve harrington has migraines #I just gave him the same migraines I have #eddie munson #is a sweetheart #don't worry guys #robin and Chrissy had a great picnic date and Chrissy def kissed her finally #robin tells Steve all about it on Sunday bc he DEF does not go to work on Saturday #too busy cuddling with eddie #ANYWAY #steddieangstyaugust #hurt/comfort #stranger things #speaking Saturday #valentine writes

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thesleepyskipper · 9 days ago

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2024 Year in Review: Writing Round-Up

I was shocked to see that I wrote TEN fics this year, all for RWRB. And that the first one was in April! It was definitely a busy year.

❤️🤍💙.

too sweet (Rated M | 2,237 words)

A little co-worker enemies-to-lovers. Based on the Hozier song of course!

❤️🤍💙.

2. good neighbours (Rated M | 10,283 words)

My fic for @aroyallybigbangrwrb which is a neighbours AU meet-cute situation where Alex really likes to fix stuff for Henry, who really likes to break stuff for Alex to fix. I'm normally a one-shot kinda gal, but writing a chaptered longer fic was a fun challenge!

❤️🤍💙.

3. stop pretending (Rated T | 3,159 words)

My fic for @thebrownstone Summer Switcheroo exchange. Childhood friends-to-lovers based on a little video I saw on twitter with a meddling sister and of course I added in some more meddling friends just for fun (because Nora and Pez need to get in there too!)

❤️🤍💙.

4. yours, forever (Rated T | 2.019 words)

Suuuuper fluffy proposal and wedding fic! The wedding bit is somewhat based on my own true story.

❤️🤍💙.

5. the cadence of your heart (Rated E | 5,585 words)

Oh boy. It took me about 4 or so months of working on this and building up the courage to post my first true E-rated fic in this fandom. This is basically shower sex PWP but also ended up with A LOT of feelings.

❤️🤍💙.

6. lost and found (love) (Rated T | 2.304 words)

A little meet-cute where Alex has lost his dog and Henry runs the local lost dog Facebook group. Part epistolary with FB messages throughout! Written for the red umbrella flufftober collection.

❤️🤍💙.

7. London? (Rated T | 1,432 words)

Somehow my second flufftober piece also ended up revolving around dogs, but this time an established relationship piece with some fun miscommunication about forever (but in a good way). Written for the red umbrella flufftober collection.

❤️🤍💙.

8. takes one to know one (Rated M | 3,608 words)

I had tons of fun writing this particular one about rival professors (with a little twist 🤫) for @anywhere-with-you-event.

❤️🤍💙.

9. According to Plan? (Rated T | 3,822 words)

A few people had asked for a proposal sequel to London? and it seemed to fit well with my first prompt for the frosted pages & snowbound stories collection which was Frozen Lake. My first 5+1 ever! Five times Henry almost caught on that Alex was going to propose and one time Henry had no idea.

❤️🤍💙.

10. keep him warm (Rated M | 4,339 words)

I had some fun with combining a bunch of tropes in this one - a bookstore AU with lots of pining, a power outage, being snowed in and THERE WAS ONLY ONE COUCH!! My second fic for frosted pages & snowbound stories collection.

❤️🤍💙.

It has truly been a wonderful year full of writing (and reading) and I am so appreciative to the tumblr community for all the kind comments, tags and reblogs throughout the year. The WIP games were so much fun and I really looked forward to WW and SSS each week!

Thank you to the lovely friends who tagged me in their Writing Round-Ups @kiwiana-writes, @cha-melodius, @firenati0n, @run-for-chamo-miles, @porcelainmortal

and @iboatedhere, @tinyarmedtrex, @0npurpose - look at all that we have accomplished!!! I've just loved reading all your works this year.

I'll try not to make a gigantic list (like I normally do LOL), but if anyone else would like to share, I'd absolutely love to see! So open tag for sure!

Tagging more lovely friends who have been active and tagged me in tag games or WW and SSS lately! @miss-minnelli, @onthewaytosomewhere, @sophie1973, @firstprincehornyramblings, @stellarmeadow

@littlemisskittentoes, @miharaikko, @getmehighonmagic, @orchidscript, @caterpills

@zwiazdziarka, @judasofsuburbia, @strwbrryagcd, @kj-bee, @whimsymanaged

@14carrotghoul, @myheartalivewrites, @tailsbeth-writes, @suseagull5914, @clockwrkpendrxgon

❤️🤍💙HAPPY NEW YEAR, FRIENDS! Here's to a successful 2025 with all sorts of wonderful new WIPs to work on! ❤️🤍💙

#rwrb #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrb fanfic #my fics #ao3 wrapped #rwrb fandom #rwrb fanfiction

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snotty-zombie · 2 months ago

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Rageous-tober part 3!!

Day 19: Velchid

Day 21: Vampire

Day 26: Orchid

More under the cut 😉

Day 19: Velchid

This kinda marks the spot where I started doing more and more for each entry and making life so much more difficult for myself haha I started like adding extra little bits beside the main piece just for fun which made the pressure of posting on time a lot tougher (I eventually said fuck it and just posted them late cuz who gives af haha)

I honestly love drawing full bodies of Rhinestone because she wears such bright clothing and accessories all covered in stickers and charms (her miku keychain is based off of one I own myself reeheehee) and she’s always pulling a funny face

Stark contrast to Velvet with her neat pearl jewellery and tidy hair and delicate acrylic nails. I try to make each part of her outfit somewhat matching and colour coordinated because I feel like her and Veneer are so anal retentive about that sort of thing like they FREAK if something is like slightly off like their shoes and top are different shades of black or whatever- exhibit A, Velvet’s witch costume which is all matching colours as well as her lovely nails and ring

Then there on the bonus pics is Vels tormenting the smelly boys as well as some Velstone angst, they’ll be ok

Day 21: vampire 🧛‍♂️ 🦇 🩸

QUITE PROUD OF THIS ONE, would you believe me if I said I finished it back in mid September because I was so excited for Halloween? I didn’t know I was going to be doing an inktober event this year so when I saw the vampire prompt I shoved this in a box to wait until then to post it

Veneer couldn’t decide between being a cowboy or a vampire for Halloween so he had the genius idea of combining both into one costume… a vampire cowboy! Cowboy vampire- either works. Veneer gives me HUGE vampire energy, just the inherent cuntyness of a vampire mixed with Veneer’s annoying teenage sass is chefs kiss- plus he’s as pale as a vampire anyway so no need for makeup

And his smelly hairy werewolf bf that he can drag along with his lasso and order to bite people

Day 26: Orchid Rhinestone!

Kidding the prompt was Orchid but it was referring to the same Rageon so

This is a really big one haha it was just an excuse to vomit some of my Rhinestone headcannons onto a page and it was sooooo fun

Starting off at the top, she’s a big video game person, only things she spends her hard earned cash on are video games and cosplay materials but she’ll never admit it.

Secret Easter egg moment there of her and Veneer from Jobiesayscheese’s fanfic (my favourite ever fyi, you should totes read it), the girls who know, know.

Sea urchin Rhinestone appearance! Will definitely be seeing more of her because I’m so proud of my furry designs for them all haha omfg, she makes rattling sounds when she moves, particularly when her spines aren’t tied back- I’m sure you can imagine the sound they make, sort of like hollow bamboo being clinked together mixed with jewellery tinkling

AND HER COSPLAY YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE (another ten points if you can name all the cosplays) she’s as hands on as it gets, nothing is bought, everything is hand sewn and glued and all that, she does everything by hand with her own patterns (most of the time), she even managed to convince Velvet to let her make a costume for her one time so they could have a couples cosplay. She also does literally every kind of craft out there and is always knitting or crocheting something for her friends or gf to wear like a cute jumper or a warm winter hat (she’s a giver) or felting holiday decorations as gifts :3c

Part 1! Part 2! Part 3! Part 4!

#mount rageon oc #mount rageous #trolls 3 #velvet and veneer #kid ritz #trolls orchid #trolls band together #rageoustober #velchid

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payphoneangel · 4 months ago

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Supernatural: The Showrunner's Challenge

A writing challenge/exercise

I saw this post and thought it would be really fun to make a SPN specific version. Some of these I tweaked from the OG post, some are the exact same, and others are brand new. If you like this, please give the OG post some love for the creators great idea!!

Think you can write better than the showrunners of Supernatural? Let’s find out! This prompt is a writing exercise/challenge to create a ‘season’ of Supernatural via fanfic. Each chapter functions as an episode.

Prompt:

To start, think of what you would change about SPN if you were its showrunner. Would you scrap everything and start from new? Keep the series going with a new season? Pick a spot in the show and diverge from there? Ignore all the plot and play dolls with your favorite characters?

Write a chapter that works as the Pilot of the show you want to see. At the end of each episode, roll a d12 to see what you must include in the following episode:

Roll a d12:

1. Everything at once: Roll twice, use both. If you get 1 again, keep rolling. Your only way out is to stop getting 1s.

2. TMWWBK: Give every character in the previous chapter a number. Using a dice roll/random number generator, the character whose number is selected is now the main subject and POV of the next episode.

For a greater challenge: include any character mentioned by name and any character with dialogue. (i.e. If Sam mentions Bobby, give him a number. If the waitress at a diner talks to Dean, give her a number)

3. Fan favorite: Your most recently mentioned character (or named object) is now beloved by the audience. You must give them a bigger part in the story, a special destiny, or an important new romance or friendship.

If you roll 3 again; the character must get killed off to motivate their friends/allies/love interest or to serve the plot.

If you roll 3 a third time; either start over OR they come back from the dead.

4. High Concept Episode: Due to plot/MOTW/meddling gods/whatever, the characters are trapped in a different genre than usual. Roll a d6.

High Fantasy/Sci-Fi

Apocalypse/Alternate Reality

Time Travel/Time loop

Sit-com/Meta

Crossover/Stuck in a video Game

Slasher/Death Game

5. Filler episode: The next chapter must be completely low stakes and set you at ease.

For a greater challenge: Flip a coin for each main character.

Heads: Their filler is full of thoughtful inner world building and characterization

Tails: They are interrogating the milves (i.e. doing something silly and stupid)

6. Mothership: The next chapter must include the characters making references to/listening to/arguing about/having a feelings jam accompanied by... Classic Rock.

Bonus: If you roll three 6’s in a row, introduce a Lucifer plotline (If you were ALREADY writing about Lucifer.... kill him).

7. Fallen Angels and Special Children: If the last character mentioned in the previous episode has special abilities, they lose them. If that character does not have special abilities, they gain them.

8. The Focus Group: The execs created a focus group to see if audiences would like more romance in the show. Flip a coin to determine the outcome:

Heads: The audience is into it and so are the execs! The next episode needs to involve a deep, sappy confession of either love or admiration between two characters that have not previously been romantically involved.

Tails: The audience is into it but the execs aren't so sure... The next episode needs to introduce a budding romance between two characters that is only ever alluded to, but never stated outright.

If you roll 8 again:

If you got Heads on the previous flip: The characters have a messy breakup/divorce.

If you got Tails on the previous flip: One character dies right after outright stating their romantic feelings for the other.

9. Familiar Faces: A character from a different season is (re)introduced and becomes plot relevant. (ex: if you’re writing early seasons, include Kevin, Rowena, Ketch, Dagon, ect. If you’re writing late seasons, include Rufus, Cassie, Ava, Bela, ect.)

For greater challenge, assign characters a number and select via dice roll OR

Use a tumblr poll to have followers select

10. J2 Fallout: The two most recently mentioned characters' actors have, IRL, gone through a VERY messy divorce or friend breakup. You cannot put them in the same scene, but they must both remain relevant to the show.

If you roll 10 again, they reconcile.

11. Deep Analysis: Roll a d6. The next episode must include the theme of:

Grief

Bodily Autonomy

Family don’t end in blood

Family is Hell/Absent Fathers and Absent Gods

What makes a monster monstrous

Love

12. Are we ever really done? The most recently mentioned character's actor has decided to leave the show. Kill off their character.

If you roll 12 again for another episode, the character returns.

There's a few bonuses to a character returning, so if you so choose, Flip a coin.

Heads: the actor chose to come back and the character looks the same.

Tails: the actor did not reprise their role so the character has a "new vessel."

The other bonus flip:

Heads: upon return, the character is on the side of the protags

Tails: upon return, the character is working against the protags

Have fun and happy writing <3

Please feel free to tweak this game however works best for you. And if anyone does actually end up writing and posting something based off this, PLEASE tag me bc I wanna see lmao

Tagging a few writing buddies who might get a kick out of this: @kerryweaverlesbian @shallowseeker @bloodydeanwinchester @gryptids @kingflups

#supernatural #spn fanfic #writing prompt #writing challenge #vinny writes #I'm gonna try this when I have a minute #I have NAWT play tested this so uhhhhh Good Luck and God Speed everypony o777 #also to the ppl i tagged this isn't a 'Im challenging you to do this thing!!' tag its a 'heehee hoohoo look at this silly thing i made' tag

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sambuckylibrary · 10 months ago

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TFATWS Anniversary Event 2024

The @sambuckylibrary will be holding a The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Anniversary Event! The event will start on March 18th and run until April 28th. During that time, we will be reblogging and sharing the work you guys create here on our blog.

This event is not just for the creators, but for the commenters. You can post fanfiction, art, moodboards, edits, podfics, fic list recs, comments, etc. It’ll be a low-stakes event. No need to sign up. Just remember to tag @sambuckylibary in your post for each fill, and we will be tracking #tfatwsanniversary2024 for reblogs.

If you are posting on AO3, please add it toTFATWS Anniversary Event 2024 Collection.

Each week will have a different theme with prompts from Monday to Friday. Each prompt will also come with a badge you may use for it when you post. The weekly themes and their prompts will be:

For the text version of the information above as well as the FAQ and rules, check the information under “keep reading”.

WEEK 1 (March 18 - 24): THE WINTER SOLDIER TO PRE-INFINITY WAR

MONDAY: “I don’t think he’s the kind you save.”

TUESDAY: Sam Searches for Bucky

WEDNESDAY: “Can you move your seat up?”

THURSDAY: Team Up at the Airport

FRIDAY: On the Run

WEEK 2 (March 25 - 31) : INFINITY WAR TO PRE-TFATWS

MONDAY: Laying Low

TUESDAY: Reunite in Wakanda

WEDNESDAY: Soul Stone

THURSDAY: Victory Party

FRIDAY: 6 Months of Ghosting

WEEK 3 (April 1 - 7): The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

MONDAY: Couple's Therapy

TUESDAY: “Let me just walk you through a hypothetical.”

WEDNESDAY: Madripoor

THURSDAY: “You’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

FRIDAY: The Cookout

WEEK 4 (April 8 - 14): Post-TFATWS

MONDAY: Meanwhile, on the Boat...

TUESDAY: Divorce Arc

WEDNESDAY: Skrulls

THURSDAY: Better Thunderbolts Ideas

FRIDAY: Better Captain America 4 Ideas

WEEK 5 (April 15 - 21): AU Week

MONDAY: No Powers AU

TUESDAY: Period Piece

WEDNESDAY: Sci-fi/Fantasy AU

THURSDAY: Based on a Movie

FRIDAY: Ghost/Zombie AU

WEEK 6 (April 22 - 28): Sambucky Week

MONDAY: Didn’t Know They were Dating/Friends with Benefits

TUESDAY: Redwing

WEDNESDAY: Hurt/Comfort

THURSDAY: Separate, Long Vacations

FRIDAY: Dealer's Choice

FAQ

What is this?

It’s a SamBucky event.

Is there any pressure?

No pressure at all.

Can I fill more than one prompt with one piece of art/one fic?

Yes! You can fill one prompt with one piece of art or fic. You can try to fill all five prompts that week at once with one piece of art or fic. You can do any number in between.

Are there any prizes for making anything for this event?

Just the satisfaction that you made something cool.

Is it just SamBucky?

Yes please, just SamBucky. There can be side ships, but the main ship should be SamBucky.

How long will this event run?

It will run from March 18th and run until April 28th.

I heard there are badges I can use for each fill?

There are! You can find the badges here.

RULES AND GUIDELINES

What are the guidelines for the bingo?

I will be borrowing some of this from the MYSU Valentine’s Day Bingo 2022 Guidelines, since they were fantastic.

For Everyone:

1. Remember to @sambuckylibrary in the post as well as #tfatwsanniversary2024.

2. Please also tag the prompt you’re filling (for instance, if the square is “Redwing”, use “#redwing” as one of your tags when posting about it on Tumblr).

3. If you’re uploading to AO3, please:

a ) Say somewhere which prompt you’re filling.

b ) Add it to TFATWS Anniversary Event 2024 (TFATWS_Anniversary_Event_2024).

For Artists:

1. Create at least one piece of new art that can’t have been posted anywhere else before this.

2. All visual art forms are welcome:

a ) Gifsets, at least 3 gifs.

b ) Aesthetic boards or moodboards, at least 4 images each.

c ) Drawing/painting, that is not a sketch.

d) Fan video.

e) Graphics edit.

For Authors:

1. At least 500 words.

2. Posted on Tumblr or AO3.

3. Can be part of a series, but should work as a standalone.

For Podficcers:

1. The podfic should at least be 5 minutes long.

2. It should be posted on either Tumblr or AO3.

3. The podfic can be of a fic made for the event, a fic not made for the event while still adhering to the prompt, or a notfic.

For Fic Rec Lists:

1. You must have at least five fics or podfics on the rec list.

2. Make sure to give brief descriptions of the fics or podfics as well as their rating and wordcount.

For Commenters:

1. Any amount of comment counts, from a heart emoji (“❤️”) to an essay.

2. We would rather this be about what makes you happy and joyful about reading than any scathing critiques.

Things to be mindful of when creating:

For Sam

Avoid framing Sam only as a caretaker or emotional support for Bucky. Be mindful of Sam acting angry or aggressive in an out-of-character way and falling into the angry/sassy Black man trope (check out the MCU source material to help with character traits).

Avoid decentering Sam as a main character and refrain from focusing entirely on Bucky.

In art: avoid whitewashing Sam’s skin and research drawing Black characters.

General disclaimer: Race affects every aspect of his life, including interacting with police/government and the white structures of the world when it comes to performing his duties as Cap and simply being a Black man that lives in the U.S.

For Bucky

Avoid phrasing “flesh/normal/human hand” to refer to the contrast between his prosthetic arm and his right arm. The phrasing is ableist. You can simply refer to his prosthesis when relevant, otherwise use “right/left arm/hand”.

For more information, please check out this document suggested by @ninesdb on how to write Bucky as an amputee. @ninesdb is also open to questions if you have any queries not answered by the google doc.

Specific Tags:

Avoid tags in AO3 like “Sam Wilson is a Gift”, “Sam Wilson is a Saint”, and “Bucky Needs a Hug”.

Have fun and we look forward to your TFATWS Anniversary fics!

- The Mods

#tfatwsanniversary2024 #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #sambucky fan event #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky fan art #sambucky edit #sambucky moodboard #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier fan event #tfatws fan event #mod: thatmexisaurusrex

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schluttforschlatt · 2 months ago

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Bartender (unnamed fic)

Hello friends :) time has come for me to post the prologue/intro for my bartender x schlatt fic!!! I haven’t written in YEARS but!! I’ve been itching to get back into the swing of things :) feel free to reach out with hcs, ideas and prompts! Depending on how this goes, I’d LOVE to to get to know yall and bounce ideas back and forth :)

Just a few things to establish context:

Reader is in their 20s / at least 21

Reader has 3 cats; Mellie, Oats, & Bones

Reader works 2 jobs; mornings at a diner, evenings at the bar

Reader is afab and is more feminine presenting

Reader is in college with an undecided major

Pairing: Schlatt x reader

Word Count: 971

Warnings: n/a

Routine.

Life was about routine.

Wake up. Shower. Feed pets. Get ready for your day. Commute to work. Work. Clock out and go the fuck home. Walk or get a ride home. Take off your makeup. Feed pets again. Netflix until you crash on the couch. Occasionally you’d play a video game before bed, but typically that was only during school breaks or long weekends.

Ah, long weekends. It’s been too long since you’ve had one of those.

You sighed, throwing the covers over your body, exposing you to the cold stagnant air of your apartment, and began to jump back into the routine of your current life. It was hard not to daydream of being back on the west coast- more tolerable weather and sunnier skies, but for the time being, New England would have to do.

You stretched and made your way to your connected bathroom, ready to brush your teeth and rid your mouth of the sour taste of sleep. Looking in the mirror you could make out freckles and moles dotting your cheeks, coupled with black streaks around your eyes. Forgot to take off last nights makeup, again.

Once you deemed your teeth clean enough, you turned around and started the shower. Always extra steaming hot. You undressed lazily, throwing pajamas across the bathroom to be collected at a later time. Fog began to form on the edges of the mirror indicating the temperature appropriate for you to enter the shower.

It was a typical shower. Hair washed, conditioned and brushed, body scrubbed maybe a little too hard with a loofa but smelling of vanilla body wash. You skipped shaving today. Saved you a few minutes and some energy. You turned the silver knob to the side, water ceasing, and bundled yourself up in a fluffy towel to make your way back into your bedroom.

One of your cats, Bones, had made his way into your room, perched atop your bed, meowing for attention. You smiled and relented, reaching down to give him a scratch under the chin.

“Well, hello, mister! Good morning my little love bug!” He butted his head into your hand, purring loudly as he did so. You plopped down onto your mattress to devote more attention to the happy creature. “Are you ready for breakfast? Would the babies like to eat?” He meowed in response as you got back up to get dressed.

Black jeans, black v-neck shirt, fuzzy Grumpy Bear socks, and a grey cardigan was the outfit you’d picked out for the day. It wasn’t anything special, but it was your typical bar shift get up. Just the bar today. Thank Christ almighty. You gave yourself a once over in your closet’s mirror, nodding your head in approval.

You’d done the hardest part of your routine: get out of bed and get dressed.

You made your way to the small kitchenette (realistically, it was a standard sized kitchen for the size of your apartment, but it left you wishing for just a little more cabinet space and a little less outdated appliances), and opened a cupboard, bringing down the little ceramic bowls in which to feed your cats. And of course they began bombarding and begging you the second the clank of the ceramic sounded off through the room.

Mellie was the first to receive her breakfast, as per usual. She was the only one of the three to not grasp the concept of “no”, especially when it came down to food. You were hoping by the time she turned one she’d settle down, but it was apparent that she was starving because you never feed her enough. Clearly by the chunky build of her body, she was just a starving, neglected baby. She jumped up on the counter to rub her cheeks against the hand scooping her precious breakfast from the can to the bowl. You scooted her bowl to the side to continue dishing out breakfast for the other two.

Oats was next in line, sitting with perfect posture as she observed you scoop a hearty spoon of pate into the next bowl. You would look down at her and smile, earning a slow blink in return. You took a step back to set her bowl down in front of her, and watched as she dived into the brown mush.

Bones was last to be served, always a gentleman waiting his turn. He wrapped himself around your legs as you turned back to scoop his portion. Cooing at him in a baby voice, you bent down a final time to deliver his meal, earning a content chirp as he began to dig in.

After washing your hands and grabbing a granola bar from a box on the counter, you made your way to the living room, plopping down in the middle of the aging couch (look, the last renters left it and who are you to say no to free furniture?). Sighing, you reached in front of you to grab your laptop off the coffee table and decided to scan through your emails before switching tasks to work on an essay assignment due later in the week.

You’re not sure how much time had passed, but glancing down at the time displayed on your screen, you decided three paragraphs was enough for now and began to gather your belongings needed for the day ahead of you. After Saving your work and closing your laptop to return it to the table, you took a stretch break before pulling yourself from the comfy cushions and sliding on a pair of old, clunky boots.

After gathering your work bag, you gave each cat a little head scratch. “I’ll see you later babies! Be good!” And with that, you were out the door, ready to take on the routine of your work day.

A/N: alrighty! Prologue is here! I hope y’all enjoyed this lil intro 🩶 I’m not sure how many chapters I’m aiming for BUT I do have roughly 3 parts outlined :3c

#jschlatt fanfic #jschlatt x reader #schlatt fanfic #schlatt x reader #jschlatt fic #jschlatt fluff #jschlatt headcanons #schlatt fic #jschlatt x you #schlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x y/n #schlatt headcanons #schlatt fluff

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putrid-sex-machine · 3 months ago

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KiNKTOBER DAY 15 ☾ CHRiS

PROMPT: size difference, marking & hunter-prey w/ werewolf!chris

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut (obv), werewolf, p in v, unprotected (stay safe), monster fucking, gn afab!reader, slight dub con but nothing serious, chris is an absolute horn dog, one shot, rutting, grinding, pet play if you squint hard enough, size difference, marking, a/b/o themes ig, knotting, idk it’s supposed to be little gross @ parts

A/N: im absolutely feral for werewolf!chris, bro, you have no idea. i was listening to a 3 hour long werewolf ambiance video i found on youtube the whole time i was writing this incase any1 cares. tumblr also didn't save the first like, 3 attempts at starting this fic off so i've got the beginning portion mesmerized by heart atp</3 the openings a biiiit of a drag btw, i apologize. i got a little caught up in the world building lol. it's worth it tho, trust

this fic has nsft content. you have been warned.

You're being chased by a lycan. You think so at least. It's the only plausible conclusion you can come to, based off nothing but fleeting glances. Then again its not whats chasing you that you're worried about, rather the fact you're separated from your team, low on ammo, and in the middle of the woods, defenseless. Far from ideal.

Your lungs ache, your legs ache, your whole body aches, really, joints threatening to give out due to overuse. But you can't stop to rest now. Not when the lycan (you think) is hot on your trail, gaining on you no matter how fast you run. You think briefly about calling out for help on the off chance a team member of yours miraculously manages to hear it. You're quick to dismiss it, though. Making sound will do you more harm than good. Besides, Captain Redfield is out in these woods somewhere. Surely he can't be too far.

You continue running, dodging trees and roots expertly, all while ignoring the branches scratching ruthlessly at your face. There's no time to rest, no time to regroup. You have to keep going.

And you do... until you're no longer running, years of military training ultimately failing you as you find yourself face-first on the forest floor, pain searing through your body. Fuck. A quick once-over confirms two things; 1. you, in fact, didn't trip and aren't an absolute failure to your team; 2. you've been caught. Easier on your conscience but still not good. The sheer weight on your back is enough to make your heart race, struggling doing nothing to deter it. If this is a lycan, it's the biggest you've ever encountered. Impossibly so.

There's a snout pressing uncomfortably into your neck, the padded skin strangely warm. The creature huffs, sharp claws threatening to dig into your sides as it holds you in place, smelling you.

You hear your name, a soft, animalistic growl, the creature’s hot breath fanning against your neck as it speaks. Your heart just about stops. You know that voice.

“Captain?” you manage, your voice small and breathless, practically suffocated beneath the lycan’s— no —Captain Redfield’s chest. There’s a grunt, his nose shoving further into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

It takes all that remains of Chris’ self control to not ravage you right then and there. But your eyes are wide, practically trembling beneath him, the intoxicating smell of fear radiating off you in waves. No, no, no, he doesn’t want you to scare you. He flips you into your back in one quick movement, seemingly thinking you seeing his monstrous form will help sooth you. He licks your cheek, nuzzling further into you.

The word werewolf is really the only thing you can think of to describe him. With everything you’ve been through, this isn’t that strange. Not any less disturbing though. He’s massive — easily 8 feet tall — towering over you, pinning you to the ground with nothing but his absurd weight. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something for you.

And fuck, Chris can’t help himself, not with you under him like this, entirely defenseless, that hint of fascination in your eyes as you stare up at him oh so sweetly. He needs you. All at once he’s hit with the overwhelming need to have you, to breed. Really, it’s a miracle he’s managed to starve it off this long. He ruts against your stomach with a shaky gasp, unable to help himself, soft shameful whispers of “m’so sorry,” leaving him as he does.

“Fucking… need you,” he growls, panting softly as he continues humping against your abs. You whine, unable to so much as struggle against Chris as he pleasures himself on your shirt. An unfamiliar need courses through your veins. You hadn’t realized how goddamn pent up you were until now.

Chris flips you back onto your stomach, all self control out the window as he tears your pants open in one quick slash. You shutter. The mental image of how sharp his claws must be has you strangely wet. Those were combat pants.

“M’sorry… Jus’ wan’ you so bad,” he whines, his cock head pressing against your entrance. “M’so fuckin’ sorry… Need you. Need to fill you.”

You don’t have time to formulate a response, Chris’ patience running thin as he shoves himself inside you. You scream, burning, white hot pain searing through you. Chris stiffens, attempting to give you time to adjust to the stretch, but clearly unable to control himself. He continues rutting into as you cry out, a clawed hand wrapping around your face, attempting to silence you.

“M’sorry… So fuckin’ sorry… Can’t help it— Can’t— hah S’too fuckin’ good. Need you so bad.”

You don’t know what to do with yourself, you can’t even think. His knot rams into your clit, unable to fit just yet and only working to overstimulate you further. You can’t focus on anything other than the intense pain and pleasure, sobbing stupidly on his cock. It feels like you’ve been split in half. You have to be bleeding now.

Chris can’t stop himself, hips snapping into yours as he desperately chases his high. He still has the mind to feel bad though, apologizing with every thrust, uselessly attempting to slow himself.

“M’so fuckin’ sorry… You’re takin’ me s…fuck so well… Thank you. Thank you s‘much.”

You can’t even think of a reply, not when you’re being fucked better than you’ve ever been. Not with your face shoved into Chris’ hand, his calloused palm swallowing up your guttural moans. Not with all his weight on you like this, his big, beefy chest pressed up against your back, forearm easily holding you up, positioning you just how he wants.

He’s reaching so deep inside now, his tip ramming into your g-spot head on with every thrust, the overstimulation making your body twitch uselessly. You can’t fucking breathe, choking on your own spit as your eyes roll back, back arching instinctively into Chris’ hips. You’re practically suffocating. You’ve never wanted anything more than this.

And it’s all so sloppy, too. You’re drooling all over Chris’ hand and he’s smearing it across your face, all while as he slobbers all over your damn shoulder. The lewd sound of his hips snapping against your ass is deafening, somehow even louder than the pitiful squelching of your pussy around him. He’s growling in your ear now, soft useless whines leaving his mouth as he curses into your shoulder, chanting little fuck, fuck, fucks as you feel yourself getting closer.

“Taking me s’well, taking me s’fuckin’ well,” he practically howls. “M’gonna fill you… Gonna fill you with my pups. Gonna make you take them.”

You can’t help but nod stupidly, hips slamming back to meet Chris’ whimpering and whining like a goddamn dog. You can tell he’s close, his thrusts growing uncoordinated as he babbles senselessly. Your cunt burns as an orgasm tears through you, momentarily blacking out. Your satisfaction is short lived, though, as Chris shows no signs of stopping, continuing to abuse your cunt despite it all. You have no choice but to take it, attempting to cry out and make him stop, your pleas muffled by your Captain’s hand.

Even when he cums he shows no signs of stopping, continuing to fuck his seed into your stupid hole as your body’s wracked with another orgasm. You’ve lost track of how many you’ve had now, barely capable of distinguishing them from the never ending overstimulation. You can barely breathe. It’s all too much… it’s been too much.

You want this.

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #werewolf #werewolf!chris redfield #chris redfield #fanfiction #werewolf chris #werewolf chris redfield #werewolf au #resident evil #werewolf k1nk #werewolf k!nk #my writing #Spotify

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peachiejeongin · 24 days ago

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The Phantoms Part 8: Edge of Great | Bang Chan

Synopsis: Y/n finds herself daydreaming over Chan while dancing with Felix, Han cannot figure out why Minho is acting so weird, and the phantoms are booked to play another gig at y/n's house.

Pairing: phantom!Bang Chan x fem!reader [Occurs in this chapter] (Minsung if you squint)

Genre: Julie and the Phantoms/3RACHA AU, Crack, Angst, Fluffy Moments

Warnings: Mentions of death

Notice: Part 8! Almost there, now! As always, I have no ownership of 'Julie and the Phantoms,' nor do I believe Han is gay in real life. Also, I got a bit lazy at some parts because I had no idea how to write them </3 Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy the chapter, my darlings!

Your little brother was in the dark of the house using his iPad to try and catch a ghost on camera. A shatter from the kitchen was heard, and he was hopeful it was a ghostly figure; however, when the lights flickered on, all that met his eyes was your aunt, who exasperatedly told your brother that ghosts were not real. Yet, she was unaware of the three ghosts in the living room watching the interaction.

"Typical adult!" Changbin sat perched on the arm of a chair, exclaiming at the sight before his eyes. "Do you remember when we were little kids, and they always tried to debunk our ideas?"

"I think that's just a 'you' thing, dude," Han disagreed, laying back on the couch. "I was pretty trustworthy as a kid."

"Shouldn't we be more worried about y/n?" Chan countered the both of them, his heart fluttering just thinking about you; the ghost was in a slouching position, his handed clasped together and his fingers fiddling with one another out of worry. "Her dad busted her, and he's probably making her quit the band as we speak."

"Well, we can't really do anything about that now," Changbin shrugged his shoulders, "but we can still help y/n's brother. Adults not believing kids ends tonight! Showtime!" Changbin flashed Han and Chan a playful smirk before he reached for the lamp; he proceeded to flicker the light off, which immediately caught the attention of your aunt and brother.

"Ghosts aren't real?" your brother repeated, mocking your aunt's prior words. "Explain that, then!" Changbin proceeded to open his arms in a prompting gesture.

"Light bulbs burn out all the time! It's nothing!" Your aunt waved her hand dismissively, and Changbin tsked at the matter.

"Wrong answer, Auntie!" Changbin hopped out of his seat, making his way over the to blinds of the nearby window. "Explain this!" He then began moving the strings to blinds up and down rapidly, causing them to open and shut in a swift motion. His actions caused Chan to cross his arms and roll his eyes, as Han threw his hands up in an annoyed manner.

Your aunt took a firm grasp of your brother's shoulders, a fearful expression quickly washing over her features.

"Do you think it's mom?" your brother asked, hope lacing his tone.

"Your mother would never scare us like this!" your aunt nearly screamed. "This is demonic work!" At your aunt's claim, Changbin stopped pandering with the blinds.

"Hey! Words hurt!" he dejectedly stated as a pout overcame his lips, inaudible to the living audience.

"Wait, I gotta get this on video!" your little brother commented, pulling up the camera feature on his iPad.

"Yeah, you do!" Changbin agreed, pointing to the young boy. "Time for an old classic!" The bassist then picked up a plain white sheet out of a closeby laundry basket and threw it over his head, moving around in stutters around the living room. Your brother tried to take a picture of the chaos, but the camera was in selfie mode; instead, he caught a humerous picture of your aunt screaming her head off. Before he could try again, your auntie frantically pulled him away from the living room. Han and Chan stared in disbelief, but did not do anything to stop Changbin's antics.

The latter of the three boys threw the sheet back in the basket, laughing in triumph as he fell downwards back onto the recliner. He looked at the boys, his playful smile contrasting Chan's anger and Han's astoundment.

"Do you have any idea what you just did?" Han inquired, his tone coming off more aggressive than intended.

"Yeah, I do!" Changbin assured. "I just stood up for every kid that has never been believed by an adult! Some may say I'm a super hero!" Changbin pondered for a moment before his eyes widened in realization.

"We should definitely hide before y/n finds out, huh?"

---

"Y/n, we need to talk."

Speaking of you, your were currently stomping up the steps to your house and being reprimanded by your father for sneaking out to go to the showcase. You let out a heavy sigh and stopped in the middle of the walkway, unable to meet your dad's gaze.

"So, skipping school, missing tests, and sneaking out even when I specifically told you to stay in your room and study?" Your dad was furious, there was no denying that; his eyes were narrowed and he crossed his arms as he talked.

"I know. I'm sorry," you replied, your voice barely audible due to guilt.

"You keep saying that," your dad countered. "If you would just let me in, I could have been excited about tonight! I hate having these conversations, y'know. Why didn't you tell me you were in a band?"

"It all just happened so fast!" you retaliated, your demeanor louder than your previous speakings. "Look, I have had a life-changing experience these past few weeks. When I play music, I feel so much closer to mom!"

"And you know I love that," your dad responded. "But Auntie is right; school needs to come first."

"And I know that, but without the band, without my friends, I would have never made it back into the music program. They played with me when I was trying to earn back my spot!" You finally explained the entire story to your dad, causing his eyes to widen and a confused smirk to etch onto his face.

"They did?"

"Yes! This band is my thing, Dad," you sighed as you flickered your gaze between him and the pavement.

"Well." As your dad began to talk, breaking the moment of quietness, you feared the worse; you were confident he was going to take the band away, that he was going to take your one connection to your mother away. Yet, his next words shocked you:

"I'd be a jerk of a dad to take that away from you, wouldn't I be?" Your eyes brightened, but your lips stayed molded into depressed pulsation as your dad continued. "You can stay in the band, BUT you need to keep up with school. Plus, I need to be kept in the loop."

"Seriously?" You smiled, watching your dad as he nodded his head.

"Of course."

"Thanks, Dad!" You flund yourself into your father's arms, embracing him in a tight hug that he quickly reciprocated. You broke away after a few seconds, confused at the dejected expression your dad now had.

"That lady at the show," he began. "She was some sort of manager, right? Could've been a big deal for you?"

"Who knows?" You shrugged it off. "Hopefully, she'll get to see us play again. Which I will tell you about."

"You better!" your dad playfully replied. "Because if I ever catch you sneaking out again, or if your grades tank, I'm pulling the plug! Or wires. Or whatever it is that makes holograms...hologram." You shook your head rapidly in understanding, awkwardness taking over the conversation. "By the way, do I ever get to meet these guys?" Your eyes widened at the question, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat from nervousness.

"Probably not!" You thought of something on the spot to tell your dad, settling on the fact that the phantoms were from Canada and that being seen was not their thing, which was only partially a lie.

"Well whoever and whereever they are, thank them for bringing my daughter back."

---

The next morning, you ventured downstairs to hear your dad and Changbin humming 'Finally Free' while the former was making breakfast. Your dad began to talk about how he wanted to make up for interrupting your conversation with the manager, thus he told you of his plan of hosting a garage party with some help from Flynn, while Changbin made comments about their now, "one-sided friendship."

"Oh! We're having a gig...at our house." At your lack of enthusiasm, your dad told you that the performance could be professionally filmed and put on YouTube, making your demeanor flip entirely.

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course! It's only fair!" He walked to the fridge to grab a drink, and Changbin beamed.

"Best dad ever!" the bassist exclaimed. "I'll go tell the guys." Changbin quickly glanced at your dad and waved goodbye.

"It's cool, you don't have to answer. You can't even see me, so makes sense." You chuckled at Changbin's antics before he warped out of the kitchen.

---

You strutted to your locker as third period ended; you grabbed your dance bag and a couple of other items for the performance you and Felix would be giving today. It had snuck up on you, and dread was overtaking the excitement you had felt that morning over the house party gig.

As you slammed your locker shut, your fearful thoughts were halted by a figure standing behind the metallic door.

"Hey there," Chan smirked, leaning on the cerulean lockers. You jumped back, gasping before you realized it was only him; the sight of him alone made your cheeks heat up and clear your throat rather obnoxiously.

"Normal people don't do that, contrary to what High School Musical may have taught you, and ghosts definitely shouldn't either." You crossed your arms, not being able to help the soft smile that came across your face; however, Chan looked rather confused.

"High School what?"

"Oh, right, movie from the 2000s," you quickly explained, forgetting that Chan would not have seen the film. "Anyways, what are you doing here?"

"Well, we need to talk about what song we're gonna play tonight," the Australian explained, his accent sending shivers through your body that it never had prior. "I was thinking..."Edge of Great?'" You tilted your head to the side slightly as a soft hum escaped you. You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out your phone. You acted as if you were dialing a number and put the device up to your ear, the action of which made Chan scoff.

"Seriously, Love?" he questioned, the nickname causing your heart to thump. "You're just going to take a call in the middle of our conversation? This is really-"

"Hey! So glad you picked up my call, that way people won't think I'm talking to myself!" you interjected Chan's indignant rant, causing him to halt and nod in amusment and understanding.

"Okay, nice save!" Chan shot a wink your way, his own pulse racing as he did so.

"But, yes, I think 'Edge of Great' would be perfect for tonight," you agreed with him, causing him to smile once more.

"Great! Well, that's pretty much what I wanted to talk to you about, so..." Chan trailed off, his voice faltering as he shoved his hands in his pants pockets and stared down at the ground.

"Oh!" you responded, a tad down that the conversaton could not continue farther; you loved talking to Chan. After all, conversation flowed so easily with him and never felt forced. You gave him a shy smile, causing him to shake his head in order to correct himself.

"Actually, I did want to talk to you about one more thing." He went back on his prior statement, reaching one hand up to scratch at the nape of his neck. "It's uh...I think you uh...you know." His voice kept stuttering, and it was evident he was anxious about something.

He was not sure what was wrong with him in that moment; he had talked himself up to this all morning. He wanted to tell you how you made him feel, how you had won his heart over the past few weeks, how your performance last night was the proving factor; however, his words caught in his throat at this moment, and he could not find the courage to do it. Therefore, he settled on telling you how you made him a, "better writer," while mentally facepalming himself for being such a coward.

His kind words, although not what intended, made your eyes sparkle with joy and your heart warm with affection. You gave a shy smile, feeling the heat in your cheeks flare up further.

"I think we make each other better," you responded, causing the ghost to stare at you in awe.

"Y/n, why don't you just ditch with me today?" he asked impulsively; his tone became low, almost husky as it was coated in admiration, causing your eyes to widen, your throat drying up from the endearing effect of his rasp. "Let's just go rehearse, or at least spend the day together."

"Believe me, I would love to, but I can't. I promised my dad school first." Your expression saddened at the fact that you had to turn down a day with Chan; in contrast, his demeanor seemed to become more cheeky.

"Well, you came to school first, and now you're leaving to go rehearse!" the phantom countered, his voice becoming even more breathy, and to you, downright attractive. "Come on, I can't do this without you, Love." You shook your head playfully, attempting to conceal the ever-present red hue on your face.

"I-I can't," you repeated, your voice stumbling over itself. "Plus, I told Felix I would be his dance partner."

Speaking of Felix, you heard his deep voice call your name as he approached you, passing slightly through Chan in the process. He was wearing a black button-up shirt, complimented by dress pants in the same color.

"And he's heading this way! Gotta go, bye!" You pretended to hang up the phone, focusing your attention onto Felix, which made Chan scowl out of slight jealousy.

"Talking about me, aye?" Felix gave a playful smirk, which only made Chan's disapproval heighten.

"'Talking about me aye?' She was, but not in that way you little-"

You cleared your throat loudly, signalling for Chan to shut up before you turned back to Felix.

"Yeah! Just telling my dad about how we're dance partners today."

"Cool! Speaking of, you ready for the performance?" Felix questioned, nervousness present in his words.

"Yeah, we're gonna do great!" you assured the boy; although, you felt a bit fearful yourself.

"Glad you're confident," Felix chuckled out. "After three classes, I'm convinced I got worse. But hey, I've got my secret weapon." Felix shot a finger gun and wink your way, causing Chan to jerk his head back in surprise.

"Awe, someone has a crush on y/n!" he teased the boy, and you for that matter, eliciting a 'shhh' from you; upon that, Felix furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Pshhh," you quickly saved your sudden action. "You're silly!"

"No, seriously, I am nothing without you," Felix affirmed his prior statement. Meanwhile, Chan was standing behind him, mocking his every word and action.

"You'll do great!" You shoved at Felix's shoulder. "See you in there?"

"Yeah, I'll be the guy trying not to make us look stupid," he replied sarcastically as he walked away, looking back at you whilst beaming; Chan followed Felix for a short time before turning back your way.

"Oh, he is just too cute!" Chan mocked, partially to tease you but the other part out of jealousy. "You gonna pick him over me?"

"Boundaries!" You rolled your eyes at the boy's comment, beginning to stride away from him. "We can rehearse after school."

"I know you're smiling, y/n!" Chan called once your back was fully to him. You were indeed smiling, grinning even as you walked away; it was Chan, so you really had no other option due to the feelings erupting in your heart. Chan made one final call before you had walked completely out of sight.

"Kill it on the dance floor!"

---

"Breathe in," your dance instructor commanded as the pairs stood in place for the performance. "Shake out your nerves, and..." her voice trailed off as she began the music.

You took a moment to reassure Felix's nervousness, although you may have accidentally called him Chan once or twice. You sheepishly covered your mistake by saying you were thinking of something else and your mind wandered. Felix nodded skeptically; you then tried to focus on your ensuing performance. The music began and you recited the routine you had been practicing in class for days, nailing every step. Felix smirked at you, nodding in beat with the music as he truly did think of you as his, "secret weapon," for the performance. You reciprocated the beam, turning to face the mirror; you were not expecting what happened next.

In the middle of the dance, you found yourself slipping into your thoughts, the melody pulling you under like a gentle tide. When you blinked, Chan had somehow replaced Felix as your partner. His hand slid into yours, warm and steady, grounding you despite the rush of your imagination. The world seemed to blur at the edges, leaving only the two of you in focus. The soft glow of the stage lights caught the gleam in his eyes, reflecting a quiet confidence that made your breath hitch.

Every step you took with him felt weightless, like you were gliding across the floor on air. His movements were fluid and deliberate, each one aligning perfectly with the sweeping crescendos of the music. You could feel the heat radiating from his palm against yours, an anchor that tethered you to the moment. Your heart thudded against your ribs, so loud you wondered if he could hear it.

A shy warmth spread across your cheeks, the pink glow rising as his gaze never left yours. Your smile came unbidden, soft yet unshakable, a reflection of the joy coursing through you. The room seemed to hum with an unspoken connection, every twist and turn leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. This—dancing with him—felt effortless, like this was how it was always meant to be. The performance wasn’t just perfect; it was a dream brought to life.

At the end of the song, you snapped out of your trance.

"Hey, that was awesome!" Felix's voice sounded, which was was rang you out of your train of thought. "Thanks, partner!" Judging by his reaction, the dance went inferably perfectly. You did not bask in the greatness however, instead opting to nod in agreement before speeding away into the music room.

---

"Look, we add the echoes during the chorus, then when y/n comes in with the melody, it's gonna be perfect!"

The phantoms were piddling on their instruments, figuring out where to add notes, harmonies, and other adornments into, 'Edge of Great,' for the performance tonight.

Yet, their brainstorming session was swiftly interupted by a thud at the garage door; all three phantoms turned their head towards the noise and were meeted with an astounding sight.

Minho.

The skater disappeared as fastly as he had appeared, causing all three boys to shake their heads.

"Again?" Changbin asked in confusion. "What is this even about?"

"I don't know," Han answered quietly. "But I'll be damned if I don't find out."

Outside, Minho attempted to skate away; however, he was halted by a squirrel-esque ghost teleporting in front of him. The sight of Han almost made him stumble off of his board as he stopped too fast.

"What's going on with you?" Han outbursted as he appeared in front of the skater, outstretching his arms in a wondering manner. "It's like you keep finding me just so you can leave again."

"Believe me, Han, I want to explain," Minho guiltily confessed. "I can't, though, man." Minho tried to escape Han's trapping stare; however, Han moved in front of the boy.

"No, you can explain and you're going to." Han crossed his arms, his voice upping an octave or two. "You haven't been yourself since Seungmin's club. I really liked spending time with you, and I thought we were having fun together." The latter part of Han's admission was softer than the first section; it was gentle, yet firm.

Minho shook his head, regret present in every physical feature of his body.

"We should have never met," Minho uttered under his breath dejectedly. Han stood in place, his mouth agape; he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and his words caught stickily in his throat.

"What does that-"

Before he could ask, there was a faint rustling that sounded from behind the two boys. Minho jerked his head, as if something was going to come for him the moment he tried speaking to Han again.

"Look, I gotta go." With that, Minho warped away, not another word spoken between the two guys. Han stared at the spot where his crush had just been, his heart shattering as Minho's words replayed in his head.

Maybe they should have never met.

---

You softly beamed as you pressed each key on the piano, creating a melody based off of your encounter with Chan in the performance room; the melody was gentle and filled with intense passion and love. You mentally repeated the experience over and over again, remembering everything from Chan's gentle touch to the bright smile that he kept throughout the entire performance.

"There you are!" a high-pitched voice exclaimed, undoubtedly belonging to Flynn. "I've been looking everywhere for you! Why'd you run out so fast?" You lifted your head up slowly.

"Sorry, I needed air," you explained. "It was getting a bit too intense in there."

"Oh, I noticed!" Flynn grinned cheekily. "Dancing with the guy you've had a crush on since middle school will do that to you, girl!" She was, of course, referencing the "tension" she had noticed between you and Felix.

"Well," you sighed out, causing Flynn to tilt her head slightly. "The whole time Felix and I were dancing, I was thinking about Chan." You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, tsking slightly at yourself.

"Really?" Flynn asked in disbelief. "First off, knew it. Second, I know you always want things that are outside the realm of possibilities, but liking Chan is next level. He is quite literally out of the realm."

"I know!" you nearly yelled out of anxiety. "And now, I'm almost positive Felix likes me. Felix!"

"He totally does," Flynn beamed as she affirmed.

"But me and Chan..." your voice faltered as you ventured back into dreamland. "We click. Plus, he's so-"

"Non-existant," Flynn finished your sentence, causing your demeanor to switch from admiration to dejection. "You can make all of the music you want with Chan, but he's always going to be a ghost."

You felt hurt by Flynn's words; to you, Chan was real, just not alive. The two of you had built such a firm connection, and the feelings were bound to develop at some point or another. You could not bear the thought of leaving those feelings behind. Flynn, however, spotted your sadness, which made her grab your phone.

"How about," she started, "we send Lix a friendly little invitation to the party tonight?" She turned the phone screen towards you to show you the message, which caused you to move back in astonishment.

"I don't use that many smiley faces."

"Well, I am not letting you get heartbroken!" You did not understand the point of Flynn's comment, thus you shook your head, another idea invading your mind right after.

"Well, we're performing tonight anyways. What am I supposed to do?"

"Thought you'd never ask!" Flynn replied, surprisingly enthusiastically. "The key is avoiding those large, gorgeous, dead eyes."

"You're very pushy today," you commented upon Flynn's demanding tone.

"You're welcome!"

---

The phantoms were rehearsing in the studio, practicing moderately to the beat of, 'Edge of Great.' Chan and Changbin were delicate with their guitar riffs; however, their drummer was not so gentle.

Han was attacking his drumset, as if it were a zombie during the apocalypse. His two bandmates winced at his aggression, halting their playing as the youngest followed suit soon after.

"You alright?" Chan asked Han, concern present in his demeanor.

"Yep. Perfect. Why?"

"Look man, it's gonna be tough," Changbin reassured. "They say you never forget your first ghost. There will be others!"

"Plus, you're a great drummer and a great guy," Chan added on. "Don't let Minho get in between you and what you love."

"I don't know man," Changbin countered. "Sometimes, a bit of fire can spice things up on stage. Y'know, like the fire between you and y/n."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Chan scoffed lightly, but he could not help but grin stupidly at the mention of him and you together.

"Please, Chan," Changbin retaliated. "Everyone sees the way you look at her when you sing. The chemistry oozes between you two."

"I have chemistry with everyone I sing with," Chan countered, still attempting to conceal his already-revealed feelings. He caught eye of Changbin and began to approach the male.

"Seriously watch!" He then belted out the lyrics to 'Edge of Great,' adorning the verses as he grabbed Changbin's face and held him in place; the bassist's face morphed into an expression of shyness.

"That was...that was pretty hot," Changbin gasped out, his cheeks embarassingly red. Chan ended his endeavor by kissing his pointer and middle fingers and pressing them against Changbin's lips; Chan then walked back to his guitar, acting as if nothing had happened. Changbin, on the other hand, coughed exaggeratedly.

"Girls, am I right?"

"Yeah," Chan sighed out.

"No!" Han innocently rejected.

---

That night, your backyard crowded with excited visitors; everyone from classmates, your father's colleagues, and even a couple of record executives had showed up to watch your performance. Even Carrie had arrived, although she was currently attempting to persuade Felix not to trust you because of the abnormalities about the holograms.

"Hey, partygoers!" Flynn rang out at her DJing booth. "Make some noise for Y/n and the Phantoms!" The crowd burst into applause as your little brother and one of his friends opened up the decorated garage doors; they were adorned with flowers that spelled the band name.

As they opened the doors, there you stood, smiling nervously as you adjusted the microphone stand in front of the piano. You were wearing another one of your mom's outfits; you were wearing a white, butterfly top with matching butterfly clips in your hair. You thanked everyone for coming, taking in a deep breath before you began the song.

"Running from the past Tripping on the now What is lost can be found, it's obvious

And like a rubber ball We come bouncing back We all got a second act, inside of us"

You pressed a few more piano keys, before taking your microphone off of the stand; your dad, who was filming the performance nearby, switched on the hologram projector, and the phantoms appeared right on cue, bringing a perfect rise to the song.

"I believe I believe that we're just one dream Away from who we're meant to be That we're standing on the edge of Something big, something crazy Our best days are yet unknown That this moment is ours to own Cause we're standing on the edge of great!"

Throughout the chorus, you moved between Changbin and Han, vibing with both of the phantoms as the song reverberated across the backyard. Chan approached, eager to jam with you just as the others had, but you purposefully ignored his attempts, redirecting your focus back to the crowd. He was caught off guard, a flicker of hurt crossing his face at the sudden shift, his smile faltering as he realized you had pulled away.

You had reluctantly decided to take Flynn's advice, though it pained you deeply. You truly cared about Chan, and you could not imagine anything changing the connection the two of you shared. Yet, Flynn was right. Chan was a ghost, and there was no realistic future with someone who was not alive. As Chan began his verse, he watched you, hoping you would come vibe with him at the microphone, his gaze filled with quiet anticipation.

"We all make mistakes But they're just stepping stones To take us where we wanna go It's never straight, no"

Instead of rocking out with him, you stayed close by Changbin, headbanging and moving back and forth with the bassist while the guitarist watched sadly. Towards the end of his verse, you made awkward eye contact, and he motioned his head for you to join him for your united verse; however, you stared straight on, standing in front of the piano.

"Sometimes we gotta lean Lean on someone elseTo get a little help Until we find our way"

Chan was overwhelmed with a mix of emotions—dejection, hurt, and confusion. Han and Changbin mirrored his bewilderment, exchanging glances as they looked at you, wondering why you had suddenly pulled away. All day, you had been fine, so why this change in behavior? Whatever it was, it agitated Chan. He longed to be close to you, to sing beside you, yet you kept your distance. The separation stung just as much for you; your heart ached every time you caught the saddened look in his eyes as you distanced yourself from him. Trying your best to ignore the pain, you hopped onto the piano for the bridge

"Shout, shout C'mon and let it out, out Don't gotta hide it Let your colors blind their eyes Be who you are, no compromise

Just shout, shout C'mon and let it out, out What doesn't kill you makes you feel alive Oh-oh"

As you hit the falsetto on the third and final chorus, something unexpected happened. Your eyes met Chan’s once again, and in that instant, he added a guitar riff that was not in the original song, drawing closer to your criss-crossed position on the piano as if to capture your attention. There was a look of awe in his eyes, one that you could not help but mirror, a quiet understanding passing between the two of you as the music swelled around you.

All previous thoughts had been abandoned; you stared at Chan with longing in your eyes as you sang. Sure, he was a ghost, but he was a cute ghost; a cute ghost that you were slowly but surely falling for in every moment. In that moment, it felt as if you were singing to him, as if no one else was around. You became lost in his chocolate eyes, only breaking contact to stand up on the piano as you sang the high note to the chorus.

Han, Changbin, and Chan played their instruments in adrenaline-pumped fervor as the song ended; you remained atop the piano until the end of the chorus, in which you hopped down onto the bench and fixed your microphone back onto the holster. As you switched back to the piano to end the song out, the phantoms disappeared with a final riff.

Well, two of them did.

"Running from the past Tripping on the nowWhat is lost can be found, it's obvious"

Chan leaned over your shoulder, making intense eye contact with you as you both sang the final verse; this moment, although inexplainable, felt intimate, once again seeming as if the two of you were the only ones present in the audience. His gaze flickered down to your lips, and he seemed to lean in briefly; however, the music stopped and he vanished before he was able to make a move.

As with the other performances, the crowd became a cacaphony of cheers and gasps as the phantoms vanished. You gave a playful bow as you retreated back into the garage, smiling at your newfound confidence and the success of the performance.

Meanwhile, a heartbroken gaze who had watched every event unfold between you and Chan watched on, a lump caught in his throat and defeat present in his gaze.

---

After the performance, Chan, Changbin, and Han stayed outside, playing basketball at the small court besides the garage once the guests had cleared out.

"Feels like we should be celebrating or something," Changbin commented as he caught the ball from Chan's toss. "What do you guys wanna do?" Before Han or Chan could respond, another flickering jolt came over the boys, causing them all to fall onto the ground in pain.

"Not that," Han said, coughing slightly.

"That wasn't like the other ones," Chan noticed. "It's getting worse."

"Why is this happening to us?" Changbin asked rhetorically.

"It's because you guys are in trouble."

Minho had appeared from out of nowhere, his arms crossed and his tone laced with alarm.

"Minnie?" Han questioned, stepping closer to his suitor.

"We need to talk," he bluntly told the boys.

---

"All the jolts we're feeling is because of Seungmin's stupid stamp?" Chan was angered, his footsteps heavy as he, Han, Changbin, and Minho strided across Sunset Boulevard.

"He's threatened by you!" Minho explained concerningly. "You're the only ghosts who lifers can see without his help, so he wants you under his control."

"And you let him do this to us?" Han inquired, his tone more aggressive than he wanted it to be.

"Do you really think I can stop him?" Minho questioned Han, his voice breaking as he spoke. "He owns my soul. In fact, he owns every soul at his club. If he even knew I was here, talking with you guys, he...he would destroy me."

"So, if we don't join his club," Changbin recounted Minho's descriptions, "we keep flickering until our lights go out?"

"Yes," Minho gulped.

"So, what exactly happens when our lights go out?" Changbin followed up.

"That's it," Minho shrugged, his face expressing nothing but solemnness. "You're done. You don't exist anymore."

"What?!" Chan exclaimed, his rage growing. "So, you mean, we have to say goodbye to everything we've worked for? We have to lose y/n? I have to lose the girl of my dreams and work for Seungmin?!" Chan's confession was the least of anyone's worries at that moment; instead of focusing on that, Minho shook his head dismissively.

"There's another option, and you have to hear me out on this," Minho explained as he breathed in. "If you guys could figure out what your unfinished business is, you can cross over just in time and at least exist in the afterlife!"

"Why should we even listen to you?" Han stepped forward, his eyebrows furrowed out of anger.

"Because I care about you, Ji!" Minho yelled out, loud enough for all of Hollywood to hear if Minho's voice was audible to lifers. "I can't stand that I got you and your friends in this mess. Look, I can't be away from the club much longer, but I can apologize...I'm so sorry guys. For everything."

With that, Minho warped away, just as Han reached for him; the latter of the two took the former's spot in order to face Chan and Changbin. He kicked his feet at the ground, a tear falling down his cheek.

"This is my fault," he said, his voice mixed with guilt and regret. "I met Minho, Minho introduced us to Seungmin, and Seungmin screwed us over!"

"No, Han," Chan rejected his friend's claim. "We all wanted to go see Seungmin."

"We have to tell y/n," Changbin realized, sadness washing over his features.

"No! Absolutely not!" Chan protested, his tone several octaves higher than it should have been. "Okay, she has lost so much; if she knows she's losing us, it will break her, and I can't hurt her like that! The best course of action is to figure out our unfinished business and cross over without her knowing."

"Okay, how are we supposed to do that, Chan?" Han outbursted, running an anxious hand through his hair. "There was so much we wanted to do!"

Chan's stare shifted from his bandmate to just behind him. He took a few steps forward, as if he was drawn to the glowing sign just behind Han.

"What is it, man?" Han asked, his tone softening. He looked behind to where Chan was staring, and Changbin followed suit.

"What was the one thing we were meant to do together on the night we died, mates?"

The three bandmates found themselves looking at the large, glowing blue sign of the Orpheum Theater. All three widened their eyes in realization, and it took a while before Changbin clarified in the form of a question.

"Play the Orpheum?" Changbin asked, worry and disbelief mixing in his voice.

"How can we even do that?" Han shook his head as he inquired. "Even after 3RACHA was known, we had to use every favor we had. Getting that gig took us years!" At that moment, another excruciating jolt rang throughout the phantoms, causing them to double over and groan. Chan coughed his lungs out as he looked back to the sign of their saving grace.

"Well, we don't have years."

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