#just gotta get the inspiration and motivation to write the other half

[thedragonhermit]

An update 👉👈

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 | 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

⬷ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞┊ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ┊ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

pairing: minho x felix (minlix)

genre: dancer!minho/artist!felix. brothers best friend troupe. college au. age gap (abt 4 years). minho pov. extremely dark themes throughout, including smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

word count: 4.4k

the playlist 🗡️

a/n: OKAY, SO- 💀 I HAVE AN EXPLANATION FOR THE DELAYED UPDATE!!!! 💀😔 My life has been so incredibly fucking busy lately... with working full time and doing summer uni courses full time and planning for lolla and like, the 5 other concerts im going to in the later half of this year... it's been a lot, fam. 😭 I've been under sm stress at work and from school that I've been getting really bad chest pains, but I'm trying to manage things so it's slowly getting better. But the burn out is real, people. That shit fucks you over sooo bad omg 😭 I just have no motivation to write anything at the end of the day or on the weekends because I'm so fucking tired of using my brain all week. Going to Lolla will be my first REAL vacation from work/uni in over 2 and a half years. That's acc insane to me lmao. ANYWAYS!!!! 🗣️💥 I've already written like, 2 more chapters for this fic when I was in a mania-induced rage a few weeks ago lol, so I just need to find the time/motivation to edit those within the next few weeks. And I already have big plans for the rest of the chapters in this so... I'm excited. Now I just gotta find the willpower to ACC write my ideas 😜

🗡️ - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋread my rules & guidelines here! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋcheck out my skz masterlist! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋmy wip list! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ skz fic recs [sfw ver]! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋskz fic recs [nsfw ver]! :: 18+, MDNI! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋback to navigation! ࿐ྂ

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

̶﹒⊹﹒sɪɴᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴀᴄǫᴜᴀɪɴᴛᴇᴅ,  ʏᴏᴜ sᴋɪᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏʀеᴘʟᴀʏ ！،، ���  𖥻 𓂃 ʜᴇ ɢʀɪᴘs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴄᴋ  ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀеᴘᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴄʀᴇᴡᴇᴅ╰╮ 🌑

 To his utter surprise, Minho decided to attend Felix’s dorm party that weekend. The final decision shocked the rest of his friends too, who had grown accustomed to his home-body spirit. Because usually, every time they asked — more like begged — him to go to parties with the three of them, he always backed out of everything. His favorite excuses were being too exhausted from dance practice or not feeling good from studying so much. 

  “I actually cannot believe you’re going to this shit,” Chris said with a laugh that night. He was sprawled across Minho’s bed, one earbud in his ear as his head bobbed up and down to a beat he was mixing on his laptop. Meanwhile, Minho was scurrying across his room, slipping on a pair of socks and making sure he looked somewhat put together. But he didn’t want to seem too desperate to fit in either, since he knew that most of the people at the party would be young freshmen and sophomores. 

  He had decided — with a little bit of Chris’ help — on a pair of black sweats, and an oversized graphic tee from one of his favorite Korean bands. It was nothing out of the ordinary for him to wear, but just ‘normal’ enough for him to fit in with the crowd that night. 

  “Honestly, I’m kinda shocked that you’re not going too,” Minho said as he hurried to slip on his Converse.

  With that, Chris looked up from his flashing computer screen with a deep frown plastered across his face. “Do you really think I want to go to a party and watch as my little brother sticks his tongue down at least ten people's throats?” 

  Minho stopped fumbling with his shoelaces and looked up at Chris with a raised eyebrow. “He’s not actually gonna do that tonight, Chris.” 

  “You obviously don’t know my brother these days… the one that’s mature— at least in his eyes, anyway,” Chris started, tapping away at his computer keyboard again and cursing under his breath for a split second. “That little boy that you grew up with is completely gone, Min.” 

  For a few beats, there was utter silence in Minho’s bedroom after Chris’ statement. Then, Minho fit his wallet into his pants pocket and unhooked his phone from his charging port. 

  “Is that why you… don’t really spend a lot of time with him ever since he got to campus?” 

  Chris threw a long roll of his eyes towards Minho, “That, and the fact that I’m a little too old and tired to be fucking around with a bunch of young kids these days.” 

  “Felix isn’t a young kid, Chris. He’s a grown adult.” 

  Sighing heavily, Chris hoisted himself up and off of Minho’s bed, patting his shoulder in a rough way as he passed Minho on the way out of the bedroom. “We’ll see if you change your opinion on that after tonight.”

  And the entire time Minho made the short trek over to the freshman’s side of campus, he couldn’t get Chris’ words out of his head. They were stuck in the depths of his brain, playing over and over again. Because there was no way that Felix would be so badly changed from the last time he had spent a night with him during their childhood. 

  Sure, Minho had noticed a slight change when they had met in the campus gardens the day before, but it wasn’t… that bad. Not like anything Chris was describing.

  Even still, Minho could feel his entire body tense up as he got closer to the freshman dormitory. He could hear his heartbeat in the corners of his ears as he knocked on Felix’s door. He could sense his palms growing cold and clammy as the loud base of music thrummed underneath his feet. 

  Almost as quickly as he had knocked, someone opened the door. He had never seen the guy before, but he had purple-dyed hair and a dazzling white smile. Reaching out to Minho’s hand, the beautiful stranger yanked him in excitedly. 

  “Holy shit- you must be the famous Minho! I’ve heard so much about you!” The guy shouted over the music, closing the door behind Minho and leading the two of them into the nearby kitchen. “I’m Jisung, by the way.” 

  Without even having time to process the chaos that was the person in front of him, Minho’s hand was grabbed by Jisung and shaken thoroughly. “Uhm- nice to meet you, Jisung…” His voice trailed off as his mind carded through the slightly slurred words that had just fallen from the purple-haired man’s lips. “What do you mean by hearing so mu—”

  “Hey, Jisung! Stop being such a fucking weirdo and let the man breathe!” Someone off to their right shouted in an exasperated tone. 

  Minho turned and noticed a dark-haired figure bent over in the shadows of the kitchen. They raised their head from the counter, rubbing their nose and sneezing violently. Slowly, Minho’s eyes registered the small bit of white substance that was left behind and laid out on the kitchen counter in a neat line. The dude was fucking snorting cocaine. Just then, Minho’s focus turned to the rest of the kitchen’s counters, which were lined with a plethora of drinks, drugs, and other shit he didn’t even have names for. A random couple was making out in the background, the girl’s ass pressing down atop the counter as the man between her legs bit violet marks into the side of her neck. 

  Turning his eyes away from the couple, he watched as the cocaine-snorter sidled up to their sides. Slinging a lazy arm around Jisung’s neck, he pulled him in for a tight hug. “You must be Minho, huh?” He asked in a long drawl, the kind you only got with copious amounts of drugs and liquor flowing through your system. 

  “Y-Yeah… Felix invited me to this last minute, but I’m starting to think maybe coming was a bad idea…” Minho said in a quiet voice that was barely decipherable over the ear-piercing rap blasting throughout the entire dorm. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable under the two strangers' gazes, he fit his hands in his pockets, eyes darting around the kitchen for the closest exit. 

  “You’re a lot cuter in person than what I always imagined,” The guy holding onto Jisung said, stumbling over a bit and making Jisung laugh heartily. The guy had soft cheekbones but razor-sharp eyes. The kind that Minho felt were piercing into him and studying his very being with each second that passed. His jet-black hair was messy atop his head and slightly curled at the ends. “I’m Seungmin, by the way. But most of these fucks around here call me Doggy.” 

  Placing a hand on Seungmin’s chest lovingly, Jisung flashed Minho a sly kind of smile. “He can get you anything you want— just say the word, pay up, and he’ll have it in your hands by the end of the week…” Jisung’s words drifted off into the chaos around them as he studied Minho. 

  Minho felt like both of the young men in front of him were sidling him up — wondering, and guessing, why someone as plain and boring as him was connected to Lee Felix in some way. Minho could feel his palms growing sweatier by the second as he gripped the suffocating fabric of his pant pockets. 

  “So— what’s your weakness?” Seungmin slurred on, eyes growing dark as his gaze traced Minho’s form up and down in the kitchen’s dim lighting. “Fet? Coke? Meth—”

  Already starting to feel sick to his stomach by the topic of conversation, Minho held his hands up in a silent plea for him to stop. “Uhm— not really into that kinda shit.” 

  “What a shame… you’d be a pretty addict, for sure.” Jisung said in a flirtatious tone, biting the corner of his lip as he studied Minho.

  Slowly, Minho could feel himself caving inward. His shoulders dropping, and heartbeat turning into a low thrum, all he wanted to do was get out of the situation he was stuck in. “How do you guys know Felix? Are you both freshman too?” 

  Jisung burst out laughing at that, reaching towards the nearby kitchen counter and pouring himself a solo cup full of vodka. “You're kidding me, right? We’ve been Felix’s homies since our high school days.” 

  “And yes, if you must know— we’re freshman’s,” Seungmin said, rolling his eyes as he grabbed the solo cup from Jisung’s hand and took a long swig of it. Much to Jisung’s displeasure. “Why? What’s it to ya?” 

  Minho shrugged nonchalantly, trying to act like the entire atmosphere around them wasn’t making him extremely uncomfortable. “I was just making friendly conversation,” and before he could let either of the guys in front of him say anything more, he decided to remove himself from the situation entirely. “Actually, I think I’m gonna go try and find Felix…” 

  As he was walking away from the kitchen, he could hear the boys snickering behind him, with Jisung shouting in slurred words, “Good luck finding him if he’s getting his dick sucked in the bathroom!” Minho could hear the two guys laughing manically in the kitchen as he made his way into the rest of the dorm. 

  Immediately upon entering the living room, he remembered just how small the freshman’s living spaces were. The entire place was jammed packed full of bodies writhing and shaking. A space in the middle of the room had been cleared for a makeshift dance floor, so couples were grinding up on each other and making out to the sultry r&b coursing throughout the entire place. Bodies filled up every seat and sofa in the vicinity. 

  The entire room was dark with the curtains closed. That added to the smoky atmosphere, as people smoked cigs, vapes, and joints everywhere that Minho looked. It was hard to see through the haziness of everything, but eventually, he spotted Felix. 

  Felix was… 

  Sitting on one of the couches, 

  Busy making out with another guy.

  And just then, Minho couldn’t even understand the exact feelings he had upon such a discovery. It was a mix of surprise, queasiness, but also… something else too, which he dared not name. 

  He shoved everything down into a firm ball in the pit of his stomach, shuffling towards a nearby table and popping himself a cold bottle of soju. Taking a long swig from the chilled rim, he gradually shuffled his way through the dance floor over to where Felix was. 

  The younger man seemed to exude a certain kind of presence… captivating at least half of the room with his aura. Felix's energy was dark and smoky and… something so mysterious and foreign to Minho, he had no idea how to navigate all of it. 

  “Felix— hi,” Minho yelled over the loud music, waving towards Felix to catch his attention. There were a few other people squished onto the sofa where he was sitting, but all of them were focused on the tv screen which was flashing with an intense game of Super Smash Bros. 

  As soon as Felix’s focus was caught, he was pulling away from the other man’s lips. In the dimness of the room, Minho distinctly caught onto the way that messy strings of saliva parted from their lips, and how Felix’s mouth was puffy and swollen from kissing all night.

  Eyes brightening and pink freckled cheeks shading just a tiny bit, Felix shot up from his spot on the couch, fumbling his way over to Minho’s side. For a split second, Minho was able to gaze at Felix’s form — at the white skort he was wearing which was so short, half of his ass was exposed, and the baby-blue crop top that rose just above his belly button. A belly ring glinted in the sultry lighting of the room, along with all of the silver earrings, rings, and necklaces that adorned Felix’s milky-white skin. 

  “M-Min, oh my god, you made it!” Felix exclaimed happily, tugging on Minho’s wrist gently and leading him over to his spot on the couch. The man that he had been making out with only seconds before shuffled to the side, allowing room for Minho to sit down. Then, he grabbed Felix’s hips and sat him down on his lap. Felix let out a tiny giggle, snuggling his ass backward and earning a grunt from the guy underneath him. “I’m so happy to see you!” 

  Minho flashed him the best smile he could muster at that moment. What with being incredibly overstimulated by everything, and the shock of meeting some of Felix’s... choice friends, and seeing his best friend’s little brother making out viscerally at a party… 

  The night definitely wasn’t turning out as he had hoped, that was for sure. 

  “I met some of your friends, they’re uhm— interesting, to say the least,” Minho laughed awkwardly, carding a few shaking fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t expecting you to be… part of such a crowd, Lix.” 

  Felix shrugged the tiniest of bits, his eyes flicking away from Minho’s and focusing on the video game some of the others were playing. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Minho. Things have changed since the last time we hung out.” There was a weight to his words, they felt heavy on Minho's shoulders and weighed on his heart. Even still, he tried to push away those feelings and just live in the moment, without any worries or inhibitions 

  “That’s for sure…” 

  But Minho wasn’t really paying attention to anything else that Felix was saying, if he was saying anything at all. Because he was too busy watching the guy underneath Felix draw circles against his bare skin. Fingers skirting across his skin, the guy softly massaged the soft skin of his thighs, forcing gooseflesh to erupt to the surface. 

  “This is Renjun, by the way,” Felix said, cutting through the silence between them and breaking the trance Minho had fallen into. “He’s a… friend, of sorts.” 

  Renjun turned his face away from Felix’s body, taking a long drawl of a joint that Minho hadn’t even noticed was positioned between his fingers. “Yeah, ‘cause friends definitely stick their dicks in each other’s assess… that's just what friends do, right?” Renjun let out a loud cackle, the kind that would probably make Minho burst out into laughter too, if they were in a different situation. 

  Felix gave the man underneath him a deep frown before his eyes focused back on Minho. “I mean… if you’re truly friends— anything could happen, right?” Just then, he started moving again, hips circling just a little bit atop Renjun’s lap. Almost instantly, the dark-haired man was groaning out loud and clutching onto Felix's hips for dear life. And the entire time, Felix kept his gaze locked with Minho's, practically staring right into his soul.

  Minho was keenly aware of the dry saliva he swallowed down, trying to ignore the way his heart lept just a little bit in his chest at the sight of Felix grinding down against Renjun’s lap. Trying to ignore the way his pants grew just a tiny bit tighter at the sight of Felix flashing Renjun a playful, dim smirk. 

  “Renjun, stop fucking moaning, you’re ruining the vibes right now!” A silver-haired guy who was sitting in front of Minho said. He was part of the group that was focused on the tv, playing Smash like they were in a professional tournament or some shit. “I’m Jeongin, by the way, Lee Felix’s bestie since the sixth grade.” The silvered fox said, momentarily looking away from his game and flashing Minho a smile. 

  At that, Renjun let out a low chortle. “Too bad you weren’t close enough to fuck him, eh?”

  Minho’s attention darted from Jeongin’s face back to Renjun, examining the way his raven locks were somewhat disheveled— like they had been gripped pretty hard recently. 

  Gripped hard by… Felix. 

  Felix threw his hands up into the air, seeming to admit defeat. “What is it with everyone around here wanting to fuck me?!” He exclaimed- although he didn’t seem that upset by the prospect in the first place. Instead, he grabbed ahold of the joint Renjun was smoking and took a long drag of it. Blowing the smoke up in the air around him, Felix’s slightly hooded gaze zeroed back onto Minho. “It’s not like I’m that attractive— I only get the young people to fuck me.” 

  Minho shifted in his spot on the couch, feeling that floaty, twisted snake thrum through his veins. He stared down at his strawberry-flavored soju bottle, pretending to be fascinated with the label. When in actuality, he was doing everything in his power to avoid Felix’s stare. 

  “I mean, who wouldn’t wanna fuck you? You’re cute— you’re hot, you’re fun, and you’re a damn good bottom, too.” Renjun said in a deep voice, and through the reflection of the tv screen in front of them, Minho could make out the way he leaned down and pressed a feverish kiss to Felix’s exposed neck.

  Like a train wreck that you can’t stop watching, Minho couldn’t help but turn his head to watch Felix atop Renjun again. He was still dancing across his lap, doing so with a little more fervor this time. The compliments probably fueled his fire, Minho assumed. Felix was gradually beginning to wreak of a mix of weed, liquor, and the sweet scent of floral perfume. Yet in that moment, it was all too intoxicating for Minho. 

  Turning his head slowly, Felix ruffled Renjun’s locks playfully. “Awe thanks— I feel so flattered that you find me pretty, Renjunnie~” He cooed in a gentle voice, fingers skirting across Renjun’s round cheek with a caress. 

  “Well, I’m sure Minho sure doesn’t wanna fuck you.” Jeongin deadpanned, his voice cascading down around their small group. He was still focused on the game but bent his head backward a bit. Fox-like eyes studied Minho’s face in the smokiness of the room just then. And Jeongin’s lips cracked into a wide, Cheshire grin just as he turned back to the tv. “Actually, never mind— maybe he does.” 

  The entire time, Minho had been entirely too quiet. Letting everything play out, observing and judging silently. He was probably the oldest one in that room, and he could feel the significance of his grade year and maturity weighing down on his shoulders like a 200lb barbell. 

  He took a final swig of his soju, before tossing it into a nearby trashcan. “Honestly, I’m old enough to be his brother, so no— definitely not,” Minho said in a low tone, his throat constricting a tiny bit. 

  But it was just the alcohol, it was just the liquor that was getting to him. 

  And the weed in the air and the cigarettes and every other thing floating around him. It was the loud bass thrumming through the bottoms of his feet and it was the blaring disco ball that was flashing rainbow-colored shapes on the dance floor. 

  Yes, it was all of that… 

  And none of what Felix was doing beside him, or how Felix was looking at him or- 

  “I mean, yeah— a dancer and fashion designer together?? Fucking hell, it’d never work. Aren’t dancers always too tired to even get it up in the first place?” Renjun slurred his words just a tiny bit, as the weed no doubt flooded into his system. 

  “But I bet those hips don’t lie!” Jeongin shrieked with laughter, slapping his leg in happiness at their stupid jokes. 

  So suddenly, Minho realized why he was invited to the party in the first place. 

  He wasn’t included to have a good time, or because he was missed, or because people wanted to meet him. 

  No, he was invited to be the laughing stock of everyone there… 

  Hey guys- look! A stupid ass senior shimmying his way into a freshman party, look at how stupid he looks— 

  trying to hit on the hottest guy on campus.

   And the thinks that he has a fighting fucking chance when everyone else wants — and gets to have Felix — 

  But no , definitely not him, not ever. The brother’s best friend?? Felix would never stoop so low. 

  The energy shifted between Minho and the rest of them sitting there on the couch, freezing in place as soon as he shot up from his spot on the couch. Yanking out his phone from his pants pocket, the screen flashed with the time — one in the morning. He had been acting stupid, been the night’s entertainment, for more than three hours. And just as he realized the time, he noticed the eyes on him — how half of the room was watching him, with people hiding their smiles and laughs behind palms and solo cups and joints. 

  “I have class tomorrow, I should head out.” Is the only explanation he gave, not even affording Felix or the others another glance as he pulled away from the sofa and forced his way through the shaking bodies on the dance floor. And when Jisung and Seungmin called out to him from the kitchen as he passed them by, he gave them no attention. 

  The eyes on his back, which he could feel the entire way to the door, just about killed him. He felt like he was about to suffocate, his heart racing against his ribcage, pushing and pushing, just like he had been pushed all night by everyone. 

  And Felix was no better. 

  He was no better than everyone else because he was the one who had invited him in the first place. 

  So Minho was shocked, then, when he felt a small hand grab ahold of his wrist just as he was about to step into the elevator. To take him away from such a hellhole and such a depressing prison of losers. 

  “Minho— wait, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean—”

   Minho didn’t even turn around, couldn’t, in that moment. Instead, he let Felix hold onto him, let the feeling of his nimble fingers cascade through his system. Let Felix gradually move his hand until he was threading his fingers through Minho’s. 

  Just like they used to sometimes when they hung out together in their childhood. 

  When they were bored, and no one was around, and Chris was nowhere to be found and they could— 

  “It’s all my fault, I’m sorry— I was so fucking stupid for thinking—”

  “Why do you hang out with those people?” 

  Was all that Minho could manage to say, focusing his attention on the way Felix’s hand radiated warmth, how it lit up all the synapses of Minho’s body and kindled the dying fire inside of the deepest parts of him. 

  “They’re my friends, they’re not just ‘people’ to me.” 

  At that, Minho let out a dry laugh. The kind that had no humor in it and was completely sardonic. “What a great bunch of friends you got there, Lix…” 

  Minho regretted the moment he said the word, the moment he used the old nickname in such a cold, seething kind of way. Because as soon as it fell from his lips, the warm fingers wrapped around his were pulling away. 

  “I was nice enough to invite you, I was nice enough to let you into my life again— and you’ve decided to shit on it.” Minho still had his back turned on him, but he could imagine the look on Felix’s face then. If his low, venomous tone was anything to go off of. 

  Slowly, Minho turned around. He found his body moving on their own accord. And just like that, he was facing Felix again. Minho was studying his face and the way it was drained of all color. How there was nothing in his eyes then, but only heartbreak and barely-masked tears. 

  “I never asked to be let in, Felix,” Minho said, but the words came out as a whisper. Like if he spoke loud enough, someone from inside the party would hear them and come running out to take photos. Look, the campus's local desperate senior trying to coax the popular freshman into- “You know I didn’t. Not like this, never.” 

  Without even trying to, Minho could feel his body moving again. His hand reached up and caressed Felix’s cheek. Thumb smoothing across freckles and softness, brushing just underneath his long eyelashes. And for a moment, just like it was once again a dream, Felix leaned into it. Let himself go for but a mere breath, sighing into it. 

  He pressed his face a little closer to Minho’s hand, eyes fluttering shut only slightly. Cheeks heating up underneath Minho’s touch, Felix's gaze shot open again as soon as the thumb underneath his eye migrated to his mouth. Migrated to caressing his bottom lip. 

  “Don’t.” 

  Minho watched the single word escape past Felix’s lips, and instantly, the tension in the air between them broke and shattered. Like someone had taken a knife to his heart once more, tearing him apart by flesh and bone, his hand was dropping from Felix’s skin. 

  “Go back to the party so you can get fucked by Renjun.” 

  The statement was a double-edged sword, both of them knew. 

  The words registered in Felix’s mind and Minho watched as the disdain colored his energy again. Painting him in violent shades of crimson and lilac, Felix said nothing as Minho backed away and into the elevator. 

  Just before he was able to press the button inside to go down, Felix reached out and grabbed ahold of the elevator’s door. “Don’t you ever fucking come back around these parts, or I’ll-” He spit out in a wicked kind of way, the emotions swirling in his pupils. 

 “You’ll… what? Beat me up? You and I both know you’re not capable of that, Lixie…” Minho said, his tone winding around the crackling air between them. He flashed Felix one final smirk, before pushing the button to go down to the first floor. 

  The last thing he saw before the elevator doors closed was Felix’s face, the way his pretty red lips were pressed into a firm, displeased line. The way his eyes were hooded with a mix of rage and exasperation. 

  The last thing that Minho saw on Felix’s face that night was utter betrayal and contempt… 

  To be honest, it was just like the old days again… when Minho had told Felix he was leaving for university and they'd never be able to talk again...

  He had wished to travel back to their childhoods so much, 

  And like a blessing from the God’s, he had been afforded such a thing. 

  What a sweet memory to travel back to… Such sweet revenge to be gifted. 

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

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[thekinkyleopard]

Prey

A Remi x Levi SnzFic

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Snz, Force Induce, Primal Play, Smut, Slight CNC

Description: This fic is inspired by this post but with a SnzFet twist 🤭

A/N: Hey guys 😅 Been some time, I’ve been lurking but have been in such a crazy position in my life between housing trying to get a place to live across the country that I’ve had no motivation to write. However, yesterday, I was inspired to get some RemixLevi in and then today, Geez presented me with this amazing prompt that I had to get cracking! 😍 enjoy! As always @aller-geez owns Remi and did the cover art!

———————

Bright emerald eyes peaked open as the morning sun hit his face through the blinds, immediately his hands started to search for the cat that usually resided in his bed. Nothing. This caused his half closed orbs to open wide, he sat up searching his bed for the lover he enjoyed holding close, but still came up empty when he realized that Levi, must have gotten up early. Remi huffed through his nostrils, what gives? He lived for their morning snuggles that usually led to a passionate session of sex to start their day. “The fuck is my leopard…?” he uttered through a deep sleepy tone, rubbing his eyes and pushing back his messy black strands.

Unbeknownst to the cat, who was happily organizing his shed in the backyard of their property, his boyfriend had woken up without him. This morning, the leopard had been struck with a sudden urge to get his life together, as his ADHD often did on random days throughout the week. As he hummed a soft tune to himself, he continued to pull things out of their places on his hand crafted wooden shelves and started to create labels, replacing items where they would essentially belong. All was going well, he was deep in his hyperfocus he didn’t notice the looming, darkened aura that was suddenly presenting itself within his space. Remi, opening the door to his shed slowly, as he sought out the source of his boyfriend’s absence. “You weren’t in bed,” was all the cat heard from a deepened tone that almost sounded threatening had he not known the source. Levi slightly jumped at the sudden sound of his frustrated partner, turning to greet him with a brightened, toothy grin.

“Oh! Sorry about that love! I was struck with inspiration and wanted to get some things done so I-…” yet in the middle of his explanation he was cut off by a single raised index finger from the other.

“Aht…We had an agreement…When one of us wakes up, the other is to alert the other, and then our morning routine proceeds, I feel a punishment is in order for this lapse in our promise,” the wolf’s eyes almost glared his mate down, leaving Levi to feel particularly small in the presence of the man.

“Oooohkay… I get it, I hear you, I’m terribly sorry honey, You just…you know me,” he scratched the back of his neck nervously, avoiding eye contact with a gently dusted blush across his face. “Once I get the will to do something….It’s gotta be done ASA-…” cut off again by the wolf raising his hand in a full open palm, a motion to silence his sheepish boyfriend currently trying to explain away his crimes.

“Nope, your punishment comes at dusk, I will save my pent up aggression, and disappointment in your decisions to deal with you later,” he licked his lips in a primal way, staring Levi down as if he were nothing more than a piece of meat. “Do what you must during the hours of day, but tonight, you will learn,” and like that, the wolf turned his back and made his exit. Levi stood there, goosebumps rising across his porcelain flesh. What was to come at dusk? Why was Remi SO intense about this situation? It was but a simple mistake, right? What was actually in store for him later once the day had come to a close? He wasn’t sure, but something about the wolf’s aura today, was definitely causing the cat a surge of nervousness and slight anxiety. He took a deep breath, centering himself by feeling the cool wood under his shoeless feet.

“It’s fine, Levi, what could possibly happen? It’s not like Remi is known to be an unreasonable man when it comes to you, it’ll be fine, just get what you need done, and we’ll sort this whole thing out later! I’m sure once Rem has his morning coffee, breakfast and daily tasks handled, he will probably feel differently and we’ll talk this whole thing out!” he rested his chin between the space of his index and thumb, nodding confidently, more or less talking himself out of the anxiety of ‘what ifs’ “Yeah! It’ll be fine!”

Little did Levi know, the punishment that awaited him at dusk was not what he would be anticipating. The assumption of a simple conversation, would be off the table for the little cat. As the day went on, his anxiety grew like a storm cloud on the horizon. Deep within him, his body knew the truth that there was going to be more than words exchanged and this ruminated within his constant thoughts, all day. Remi's words lingering in his mind, casting a shadow over even the most mundane tasks.

When evening fell and the sky turned a dusky shade of purple, Levi found himself standing in front of their bedroom door, heart pounding in his chest. He hesitated for a moment before finally mustering the courage to enter.

Remi was sitting on the edge of the bed, a small smile playing on his lips as he held out a hand to his nervous partner.

"Come here, Kitten," Remi's voice was softer now, devoid of the earlier intensity. Levi cautiously approached, unsure of what to expect. As he stood before Remi, the wolf's expression softened even more as his partner approached. ‘Okay, maybe, I was right, all is forgiven and we will just have a light conversation and maybe some cuddles to forgive my transgressions of this morning….right?’ the cat thought innocently to himself. Yet, the moment he was within arms reach of the wolf, the man grabbed his wrist and pulled him down to eye level.

The second he had entered the room, the leopard had noted the wolf was hiding a hand behind his back, out of direct view to the other, which he had clocked as suspicious but maybe just his position alone was, natural? No…Remi was hiding something now that he was gripped under the other’s strong hand. In a low, whispered voice the larger spoke.

“Now, as the sun sets low in the sky, as promised, your punishment,” Levi swallowed hard, an audible ‘gulp’ echoed around the two. Shit. Remi pulled out from behind him a container, one the cat knew all too well. Chhinkni.

“Wait…baby…Please…I swear it wasn’t on purpose, we can talk about this…” the leopard started to sweat nervously and the wolf could only let out a low, almost devious, chuckle that immediately had the other worried even further.

“Oh, Kitten, words will not get you out of this situation, now, you can be a good boy, and take your punishment….or I will force it on you,” his emerald eyes darkened, narrowing on the other’s reddened face. A choice was being presented to him, and he wasn’t exactly confident which one he would make. Was there still a chance he could talk the wolf off the ledge? Maybe?

“Bu-But baby…I didn’t mean to-…” cut off, the wolf popped open the container and with a movement quicker than lightening, brought it up to the leopard’s sensitive nose. Immediately, the powder wafted upward into the canal of his sniffer causing the cat to hitch, and struggle, his baby blues watering at the sudden existence of the powerful substance.

“Regardless, a rule was broken,” Remi responded, pushing the container up closer, making sure the damage was setting in. “And once you start your fit, you’re going to run out of this house, and I’m going to chase you through the woods of our property, you hear me? And once I catch you, which we both know, I will, I’m going to make you regret leaving me here this morning without my release,” the wolf hissed, his tone thick with warning. Levi's body trembled as he took in the gravity of the situation, his nose already starting to scrunch and fight against the inevitable doom. He had never experienced anything quite like this before, and he couldn't shake the feeling that his life was about to change in ways he couldn't begin to fathom.

The cat tried to formulate a coherent response, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper as tears began to trickle down his cheeks with the intensity of the chhinkni working it’s way through his sinuses. Remi smirked, pleased with his chosen method of punishment. "That's right, Kitten. You're going to regret your actions today," he growled, his eyes glinting dangerously.

And with that, Remi released the cat’s wrist, awaiting the game to start. Levi inhaled through his slightly opened mouth, trying to fight against it, but finding his efforts futile as eventually the moment he was trying to avoid, poured out of him like an broken faucet. “H-H-…HUH’TSCCHHIEW!” a mist of spittle flying forward and decorating the wolf’s face in front of him, he blushed further, his freckled cheeks a bright vermillion as he realized he had been so entirely wrong about being about to talk himself out of his solidified punishment.

“Run,” the wolf spoke seriously, his voice deeper, more primal than it had been even previously with his warning speech. The cat trembled as he fought to find a coherent thought and action to follow.

“B-Bu-Hah—’ESSHHh’uH!” yet with the wolf boring daggers into his soul, he knew if he didn’t follow instruction, things would only get worse, so just like that, the cat began to flee. Heart pounding wildly in his chest, Levi darted out of the bedroom and into the woods beyond their house. The chhinkni had taken effect quickly, flooding his body with a surge of adrenaline, an itching, throbbing and leaking nose, making it even more difficult for him to think clearly.

As he raced through the dense forest, Levi's senses were on high alert - every twig snap, every rustle in the foliage could signal the wolf's approach. The surroundings blurred into a haze as he tried to keep his bearings while dealing with the effects of the drug. “Eh’ScchH'‘iue!” cursing himself with every sneeze, knowing it would only make him easier to locate. He couldn’t stop though, any lapse in distance would only mean being caught up sooner rather than later. The leopard sliding the back of his hand against his dripping, irritated nostrils as they reddened and twitched against the horrendous attack of Chhinkni. “H’ptschu!” They continued pouring out of him relentlessly whilst his feet moved against the floor of the forest.

Remi, finally getting up to follow after, stood on their porch outside, focusing all his concentration on locating his fit afflicted mate, grinning brightly, sharpened white pearls reflecting in the light of the moon that was up in a full phase to shine down upon them. “Oooh, little Kitten, I’m going to find you,” The wolf's voice cut through the night like a blade, as he began his chase, following closely to the other’s scent and sounds.

Levi could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the fear and excitement mixing together in a dizzying whirlwind of emotions. His mind raced with thoughts of escape, but deep down, he knew that his punishment was inevitable. The effects of the chhinkni only added to his desperation, making it even harder to focus on finding a way out.

Branches scratched at his bare arms as he was only in a tank and some shorts, leaving his flesh vulnerable to the elements. Yet, as he pushed himself to go faster, his breaths came out in ragged gasps while he tried to put as much distance between himself and the wolf as possible. Every sound seemed amplified in the silence of the night, each snip and crunch of the sticks that littered the ground or the rustle of leaves echoing like thunder in his ears. The subtle hicks and hitches as his body fought against the assault of allergen taking him hostage through every rushed breath. “Hh-Hih’eeshiew!" ‘tshIEW!” he sprayed around himself, his head head congested with the powder that was controlling his ability to process.

Tears streamed down his reddened blue eyes, his cheeks flushed, his mouth slick from the sneezes that racked him through the night chase. He tried to see best he could through the glaze in his vision as his legs carried him through the trees. “Where do I go? Where do I go??” he panicked searching through for a path that could lead him to a hide away, just long enough to get his sense together, but his brain was scrambled, and with it being now much darker out than when he started his run, it was impossible to remember the location of where he was even at, despite knowing his property so well.

Every fiber of his being screamed at him to keep moving, to push past the burning in his muscles and the relentless attack upon his sinuses, his nose dripping with anticipation for another oncoming explosion. Levi could feel the wolf's presence looming closer, a dark shadow in the night that seemed to be gaining ground with every passing second. Panic clawed at his chest, threatening to overwhelm him entirely. “H’ETShhIEW!” another sneeze tore through his throat, with no time to tend to himself or stop, the fine cloud of saliva that expelled from his lips had no where to go but right back into his blushing cheeks, painting the leopard’s face in a cool, wet mist.

Just as he thought he couldn't run any farther, his foot caught on a root hidden beneath the undergrowth, sending him sprawling onto the forest floor with a sharp yelp. Pain shot through his body from the impact, dirt smearing over his freckled exposed skin, but adrenaline pushed him back up to his feet before he could fully register it. He stumbled forward, cursing his clumsiness as he tried to regain his bearings in the darkness.

A distant howl pierced the night air, freezing Levi in his tracks. The sound sent shivers down his spine, a chilling reminder of just how close Remi was behind him. Intimidatingly close, it mattered not how much he ran, the wolf was much faster than he. With a renewed surge of fear and determination, the leopard pushed himself even harder, his heart thudding in his chest like a war drum. He could feel the wolf's presence closing in on him, the anticipation of capture heavy in the air. Each inhale burned his nostrils with the cruel reminder of his vulnerability, the chhinkni paralyzing him with its effects.

Levi pushed through the pain and anxiety of it all, his mind racing for a plan, a way to outsmart his pursuer. His feet carried him over fallen logs and weaving through thick foliage, his breath ragged and desperate. The moon hung low in the sky, casting eerie shadows that seemed to reach out for him with clawed fingers.

Just as he thought he couldn't go on any longer, an idea sparked in Levi's mind. With a sudden burst of energy fueled by desperation, he made a sharp turn and veered off the path, ducking behind a cluster of bushes. He crouched low, trying to control his labored breathing as he listened for his mate’s loud foot steps, but he couldn’t. Not with the sound of his struggling breath, yet as he could smell the canine getting closer, he clapped his hands over his open maw. He could feel it, another, it was getting imminent, there was no escape. His nose tickled, his throat itched, his eyes pooled with liquid and he tried, oh he tried, but there was just no fighting against it. He sneezed. “H—GNXKT!” He tried to stifle them, but with the exertion of running for so long and so far, the effort was more or less at low capacity and it fought him back. “—HAh’ESSHHH’uh!” It echoed loudly around him, leaving him vulnerable for the wolf to know his exact location. Should he run? Should he risk it??

The time for decisions was too late because the brush pulled open and there he was, Remington. The man chasing him was barely even broken out in a sweat as he leered over the cowering, afflicted leopard. Levi’s body trembled, his tearful orbs slowly met the other’s animalistic gaze.

“Caught’cha,” the wolf’s mouth pulled up into a deviously malicious half toothy grin. The cat’s body shuddered.

“W-wait…I-!!” but before he could make any further demands, or rather, pleas, the man reached down to grab him around the throat and pulled him up to his feet. In a quick swish he pushed the leopard up against a tree by the flush of his chest, cheek pressed up against the trunk. “R-Rem!” he tried to protest but the man only chuckled darkly.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t see this part coming my little Kitten…Especially since I’ve been so pent up all day…” he hissed behind the other’s ear, his fingers gripping the sides of the other’s throat while his free hand moved to push the fabric of Levi’s shorts down past his ass. “You’re mine now,” he nipped at the flesh of the leopard’s ear, pulling his rock hard length out from behind it’s restraints.

“R-Re…Hnn..H-…He’ETShhIEW!” unable to fight between the wolf’s hunger and the powder still rummaging through his nasal passage. His sneeze ghosted through the forest air, and the man behind him watched as the mist fell to the leaves below, he licked his lips.

Levi couldn't help but tremble at the lust induced ferocity in Rem's demeanor, his heart beating faster, and he knew that his pleas were as good as whispered. The raven haired man could hear them clearly, and Levi could feel the power of his dominance pressing down on him like a heavy weight.

As Rem spit on his own free palm and quickly adjusted himself, Levi could only whimper in response to the man's actions. His attempts at resistance seemed futile, his sneezes only made him more vulnerable and the other more hungry. He could feel the larger's hot breath on his ear, and every time he blinked, he could see Remi's eyes darkening with desire in the moonlight from the side view of his current position. Levi's heart pounded against his chest, pumping adrenaline throughout his body. ”You’re mine now, Kitten,” he growled between a clenched jaw.

"I-…Please…" Levi whispered softly in return a gentle sniffle to follow “SndDf.." Remington smirked, liking the sound of his vulnerable chatter. He gripped his neck tighter, pulling him closer to his body, feeling his hardness pressed against the leopard's awaiting hole. "That's what I like to hear," he murmured, his voice low and thick with lust as he pushed himself forward, entering the tip with a fake resolve of going slowly before shoveling himself the rest of the way in with impatience.

He brought his free hand around and up the front of Levi's chest, feeling the rapid throb of his heart through the other’s warm skin. He could feel the heat radiating from the leopard's body, a testament to his arousal and fear. Feeling the cat struggling to withhold another sneeze as if it would break the current tension "Don’t stop on my behalf," he snickered deeply while his hips began to snap at a furious pace, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down Levi's spine.

The smaller of the two struggled to speak through his ragged breaths, his body infiltrated by his mate’s roughened thrusts and throbbing cock, he gasped sharply which only invited the explosion he was holding back, out. “H’PtsCHU! h’TSCHHiiew!” they sprayed past his wet lips, watering blue eyes rolling back as he released Remi’s favorite symphony of sounds, strangled whimpers underneath expressive sneezes.

Remi's grip tightened, his breath hitching as he felt Levi's body react to his invasion. The leopard was his, every twitch, every gasp was brilliant music to his ears. He pressed closer, his hips continued their frenzied rhythm, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the quiet forest night. "That's it, my sweet little prey," he grunted, his own breath rugged, "Let it all out,”

As Levi sneezed again, with a struggling force “HET’Shhh’eu!” Remi felt himself start to lose control. He was so close already, but refused to give in now, he could feel the electricity coursing through him as he thrust into the leopard. "I'm gonna fuck you senseless," he snarled lowly in Levi's ear. "You're mine…every part of you belongs to me,”

At this, Levi seemed to break, his body convulsing around Remi as he sneezed and moaned behind his lover’s roughened actions. “H-Hah! H-Hngg…h-H’ETShhHiEW!” His sneezing echoed through the forest like cries of surrender, each one a testament to Remi's dominance and control over him. Levi could feel his mate's animalistic lust coursing through him, tangling with his own sickened desire of enjoyment. The leopard's body shook with each deep thrust, each ragged breath drawing him closer to the edge.

"Remington...please," Levi panted between gasps, his voice shaking as he resigned himself to his mate's control. "You...you own me," The thought sent a wave of pleasure rippling through his loins, filling him with a newfound vulnerability and heightening his arousal.

Remi's grip on Levi's neck tightened in response, their bodies now moving as one, their hearts throbbing in unison. "Who owns you?" he growled into the other's ear, his hips never ceasing their rhythm. “Who?!” his voice snapping through the sounds of their mingling bodies.

"You, Remington," Levi cried out, his voice shaking with the intensity of his emotions. The cat’s teary eyes met Remington's in the moonlight, a mix of lust and desperation shining in their depths as he panted, "You do...you own me. Take me...please," He whimpered softly, nearly sobbing as he felt the passion and intensity that raged between them.

The wolf’s body shuddered at the sight, his mind hazy with carnal lust but his heart clear as he could feel Levi's surrender. "You're mine," he murmured hoarsely before sealing it with a heated, sloppy kiss, their tongues tangling in the passionate exchange. His thrusts getting harder, now desperate to claim the cat fully. "I own you," he hissed, pulling away from the other’s mouth, before biting down on the smaller's neck, drawing a mingling of blood and arousal from the wound.

Levi cried out, his hips pushing back to meet each thrust, the forest was silent except for their heavy breathing and the sounds of their bodies connecting. The smaller struggled to keep up, feeling as if he was being dragged into the abyss of Remington's desire. His sneezes continued to come out in shaky bursts, sounding more like a broken whisper than a powerful snort. “hUh’Tsschhiiew! hhhiH’esshiew!” Only further egging the wolf on as he craved to hear the sounds of his leopard’s suffering, watching mistrals of spit cast off beside them.

Remington continued his relentless pace, each thrust deeper and more brutal than the last. The feeling of being consumed by Levi's surrender drove him wild with passion, getting lost in the way the cat’s passage squeezed and pulsated around his plunging length. “Master is going to cum inside that tight little hole of yours…” the leopard whimpered, his body trembling as his mate's words echoed through the night around them. He could feel Remington's strengthening grip tighten and the powerful snap of his hips quicken, which were driving him to the brink. He could only surrender to his mate's control, feeling the building tension which could only mean - he was about to be claimed fully.

"H-Hh-ih’Eeshiew!!" Levi sneezed again, his body jerking violently while his nose dripped and his mouth hung open, his frame twitching against the other’s hold. The leopard's sneezes had always been a part of their little game, a vulnerable yet powerful tool that seemed to drive Remington wild with desire. And now, with each sneeze and whimper, he felt himself slipping away into the haze of pleasure and passion that enveloped them both. “h-H’ETShhiEuw...” watching the last cloud of spray hit the air underneath the shine of moonlight, was enough for the large man.

Their bodies crashed together as Remi’s release finally came, his thrusts becoming erratic and ragged, each one sending a burst of his seed deep into Levi's waiting warmth. A deep, primal growl escaped him as he felt the cat's body tremble around him, his own pleasure heightened by the sounds of the cat’s sneezing and whimpering.

"That's it...let me in," Rem pleaded through gritted teeth, his grip never loosening on Levi's neck. His thrusts became rougher, more unforgiving as he continued to claim ownership over the smaller being. "You're mine," he growled in between each word, feeling an overwhelming sense of possession take over him. "M-I-N-E!” Levi couldn't deny the powerful presence that was now a part of him, enveloping him fully. “Say it!” the man practically spat behind his lust-fueled manner.

Levi's trembling voice filled the night air as he echoed Remington's command, "I... am...yours..." The sounds of their bodies continued to meld together as the wolf made sure to completely empty himself within his mate, their breathing shallow and labored, each movement a testament to the intensity of their shared pleasure.

Remi's eyes scanned Levi's face, looking for any sign of resistance, but what he saw only served to further fuel his passion. He pulled back slightly, his gaze never leaving the smaller being's face as he slowly began to withdraw from Levi's body. His heart pounded in his chest while he watched his seed leak from the leopard, a tangible reminder of what had just transpired.

Levi's eyes followed Remington's every movement, swallowing thickly as his throat still bore the marks of the wolf's hand print. He felt a strange sense of euphoria wash over him before the larger turned him back around, gripping his chin and pulling him in for a rather loving kiss. “Good boy,” he spoke breathlessly against the other’s lips. “Did we learn our lesson?”

The cat's glossy eyes met Remington's, his blue eyed gaze revealing a mix of vulnerability and submissiveness. The weight of the powder finally lifting off him as it had passed through his body. A small nod was all he could manage, feeling the power of his surrender consume him. "Y-Yes, Master," he whispered, a quiver evident in his voice.

Remington smiled softly at the smaller being, tracing a finger down Levi's cheek. The cat just slightly flinched at the touch but didn't pull away, their shared breaths mingling as they stood still amidst the forest night. "Good," he replied in a low growl, pulling Levi closer. "Now we can go home, and hopefully, tomorrow when we wake, you remember your role,"

The leopard let out a shaky sigh, feeling the end of their exchange settle upon him. It was true; he would not forget to keep his promise from here on out, but maybe, every now and then, he could play with fire, and be reduced back, to prey.

The End

A/N: okay I popped off with this one 😅🤤🤤🤤 I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did writing it cause BOY OH BOY….do I need a cold shower 😅

[tododeku-or-bust]

Fic Writing Ask Game

I was asked to play by the wonderful @shooshopath ! I'm sending it to @toiletpotato @queenoftherandomword @spacebeyonce @surkovhasherpes

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

45

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

943,229

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Currently, just Patrochilles (TSoA and Hades)

4. top 5 fics by kudos?

Flashing Lights, Restless, to face the sea, where flowers bloom, Paradise, & and the nights, they are endless

5. do you respond to comments?

I do! I used to think it was really nice when authors answered my comments. I always make a point to answer comments to let people know I care about their feedback and that I appreciate their support, especially if they choose to become a consistent reader. It's a bit embarrassing though, half my comment count is me responding 😭

6. fic you wrote with the angstiest ending:

Lacrimosa

7. fic you wrote with the happiest ending:

I think the rest are all generally happy ending 😅 can't really pick one.

8. do you get hate on fics?

I had for a couple of my Patrochilles and Parenthood series, particularly on my OC. Tbh, I'm shocked I don't receive more, given that Black female characters usually receive minimal grace. Everyone's been very supportive, if not necessarily completely understanding the perspective of the narrative (thus the "your OC is a self insert" comment. Like, I'm writing about the experience of Black girlhood, where else am I gonna pull from lmao we tend to go through particular things!)

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

Nah, not really. I'll usually include a sex scene here or there, but I don't write just straight smut. There's always gotta be some angst or some sort of plot. I don't think my writing is good enough for straight smut, so I leave that to others.

10. do you write crossovers?

Technically my Patrochilles fics are crossovers, but fr I just tag both fandoms for reach. If I'm focused specifically on the TSoA rendition, I only tag for that. Otherwise, no. Same idea with MDZS.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Apparently so! Well, not stolen, but heavily inspired by. Since it wasn't word for word, I'm not willing to get lynched by white fandom to start an argument about it.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

I have!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nah 😅 unfortunately I'm too territorial about my writing process.

14. all-time favorite ship?

Patrochilles, with AshEiji as a close close second.

15. what's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Blooms of a Wilting Garden. It's a WangXian fic I was super, SUPER passionate about... And then I burnt out of both the fic and the fandom. It was just so toxic in that space that I got disillusioned. Maybe I will- it is outlined!

16. writing strengths:

I personally think that I'm very good with dialogue and character motivations. I'm also very passionate about movement while I write, bc I think that it adds emphasis to both of those things. But yeah, I'm very intense about motivations- how might someone's character change in certain situations? What might cause an outburst in one moment might generate an incredibly calm response in another, all for the same character. It all depends on the situation, and I like exploring that.

17. writing weaknesses:

I feel like I could do better with "prettier" writing. On the one hand it's a style choice, I tend to prefer words that get to the point I'm trying to depict. On the other hand, sometimes I wish I could write as beautifully and set up as well done a setting as other writers. I've been trying to do better with that. But I also write fic as a hobby so... 🤷🏾‍♀️

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've tried direct translation (language, then the English translation next to it) and italicizing. Some phrases I know well enough to use the former, but if I get caught up I will use the latter.

19. first fandom you wrote for:

On AO3? Bnha, tododeku (thus the name of the blog. I was pretty intense about it. Oh how I've grown in 4 years).

20. favorite fic of yours:

Hmmm... This is hard. I love all my fics as a favorite for different reasons 😭😭 the overall winner? Restless, my first AshEiji fic. It's one of my fics that I'm always rereading, and I love how it came about because of two nightmares I had. Like they really worked in allowing me to write a perspective on Eiji that I felt I wasn't seeing in the fandom at the time. Protection (my second Philia fic) is my second place.

Thanks for sending this to me! I'm so happy to see it 😊 I miss talking about my stuff sometimes.

[therentyoupay]

Hi, I was just wondering if technical difficulties is abandoned?

I hope you’re doing well!

*drops in after 5 years and 4 months with a technical difficulties chapter update*

*disappears*

cover art made by @angel-gidget ♡

03/08/23. HELLO, HELLO, HELLO, ALL, LONG LONG LONG TIME, NO SEE. ♡ Can you believe it? When I first published this story (first to tumblr, then to ao3), I had just moved to Japan! When I posted ch. 7, I was still living in Japan, and would stay there for another 7ish months... and in the 5 years and 4 months since posting the last chapter, I have moved to three different cities in the United States and started a Ph.D. program. (I am currently halfway through my PhD program!!!!!) What a wild ride. Also, we lived through the pandemic?! And I bought a house! Over the summer! The market was vicious.

So, then how did I get the inspiration/time/energy/motivation to write Ch. 8, you ask? Marvelous question. I lied down in bed last night to go to sleep "early" and ended up reading an utterly hilarious play-by-play commentary on Bad Books, Good Times of a popular fantasy novel series—and I'm not quite sure what it was about "poorly written books explained by hilariously clever book lovers" but I suddenly had a craving for fanfiction, so I opened up my Books app on my phone, and my eyes fell upon a sudden recommendation for my downloaded copy of technical difficulties. And I thought, "Am I suddenly and weirdly in the mood to jot down some notes to start Ch. 7 right now? By golly, I think I am."

4.5 hours later, I'd written the whole damn thing from scratch on my phone in my Notes app. (Messily! Half-assed! But I wrote all of it down!) I then spent another 6.5 hours today filling in the gaps and "editing." This chapter (and the one that will follow it) has been in my head for more than half a decade, but I just haven't had the space to get it out until now!!

I think one of the most beautiful parts of getting a PhD is how completely it blows your perfectionism tendencies utterly to bits, and one of the really interesting byproducts that has come up in my acdemic writing is just how quickly I can crank out decent-enough writing (skill-building!!). In my case, I think so much of it has to do with just being able to word vomit fairly well while not trying to fix anything until the whole damn thing is basically done. So, I applied that knowledge here! Behold!

This isn't to say that I'll be writing the final chapter anytime soon—I may be on spring break right now and may have had a stroke of Writing Inspiration in the Wild™ last night, but I'm still finishing my last semester of classes and learning advanced Python and working on my milestone paper for my doctoral program and preparing to present at my next conference in June and preparing my proposal for my dissertation next fall. BUT! The important thing is that I will post the last chapter of this story (and all my other stories)! Eventually!! ;)

No BETA for this chapter because I gotta THROW this out onto the internet and get back to coding, so bear with! I may do minor edits for it in the near or distant future. Also, please note that I have not watched any episodes of Miraculous Ladybug after the finale of Season 1, so this fic is very much a ~time capsule~ from the past. If there is any additional lore that might otherwise apply to the plot of this fic, please know that I don't know about it, and I am keeping myself selectively ignorant on all matters of Miraculous Ladybug season 2 and beyond until after I finish this story the way I originally intended. ♡ Woo!

as for, tumblr, sadly, to be honest, I'm never really online anymore! I'll respond to comments here on ao3 ASAP, though. ♡ LOVE YOU ALL, THANK YOU. ♡♡♡

[amusingmusie]

Hello Musie! I hope you are doing well on this out of touch Thursday. Would you be comfortable with sharing what inspired you to begin writing? Do you have a muse of your own that inspires the way you build dynamics between your characters? I was curious if you had anything that you had outside of source material (ie Hazbin) that helped motivate you?

I've always loved to write, but always burned myself out before the ideas manifested into something more substantial than daydreams. You have inspired me to at least focus that energy into comments and questions! I just wanted to say that you have a fresh approach to building meaningful conflict between characters and developing background YT. You've got me researching New Orleans history so I can further the immersion as I read! I still cannot get over how fleshed out Nel is. I can absolutely go on, but yeah!

Thanks a million :)

Hello! Sorry I answered this so late (it's Monday for me whoops!). I can't lie, I got really excited to answer this so I can nerd the hell out and YAP PROFUSELY.

What inspired me to write- With every single piece of media consume, I immediately (and I mean immediately) begin to construct some kind of OC to throw into that universe, and Nel was no exception! I got very attached to human Alastor since one of my favorite things about Hazbin is the tradegy of the human lives the characters lived, and Alastor's death in particular seemed incredibly tragic (but deserved) that I ended up fixating on it. I think something I asked myself was "Goddamn, I wonder how people who knew him reacted to his end?". That, combined with how much I loved Al's dynamic with Husk/Vaggie (the sterner characters) birthed Nel pretty quickly after I watched the pilot.

I NEVER thought I'd post a fic. Like ever. I did not think I could do it. I've been writing for myself for years and I would write on the job (I was doing secretary work at the time), so this story slowly started building and building until I had the whole thing drafted. It wasn't going to be posted until I started casually going through the Al/reader tag and saw that there was BARELY any human Alastor. And I sorta thought weeeellll I guess I gotta be the change I wish to see, I've got the whole thing drafted, why not? I'll see how long I stick with it. The fandom was super dead at the time, so I figured my fic wouldn't be exposed to a lot of people anyway, so why not?

Then you insane (/pos) people got invested in my silly shit and I am still in fucking awe that everyone is so supportive!

As for other muses (heehee) that give me inspiration- READ DEAD REDEMPTION 2. I love the RDR series, I am obsessed with it, and I think the storytelling is so beautiful. The setting gave me a small amount of inspiration (the wilderness and the country, rugged characters) but mostly the impact of the story and writing has had a lot of influence on my creativity if that makes sense? The dialogue feels insanely natural, they use old-timey slang without it dominating the conversations, and the story flows deliciously. Like, the game has had a huge impact on my life and I think if I had half the effect on you guys with my fic as that had on me, I could die somewhat happily.

And finally, I'm glad my work has a bit of a motivator for you! I'm not the best at giving advice to get motivated to start writing (I live in hyperfixation hell), but what I can say is that when something sticks, nurture it :) Try writing for yourself and see what feels right first. You never know what it can turn into!

[nobodysdaydreams]

11, 17, 20, 21, 33, and/or 74 for the WIP Ask Game!! Whichever you're most comfortable answering :)

I hope you are doing well, and no pressure in getting this answered!!! (Also remember to drink water!)

Thank you so much Sophie! I have drank water, but I appreciate the reminder. 🥰

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

Well, well, well. If it isn't another mutual fishing for compliments when you know how much I love your Sticky OCD fic (/j /lh). Seriously though, it is amazing. But, in the interest of giving recommendations, I'm going to tag and recommend three fics by authors that I didn't mention in my response to Katie's ask about favorite authors so I can spread the love around a bit. I don't know if I have a set "top three" but one good SQ centered fic I like is @kneeslapworthy's "someone only you could want". Criminally underrated, great interactions between SQ and a redeemed but struggling Nathaniel that I wish the show could have given us. Another fic I really like is @mvshortcut's "Lifeline" , another fic that I think deserves more attention. It blends book and show elements in a really great way, which I love to do in my own writing, and it gives us a Constance and Curtain sort-of-team-up that would have been great to see in the show. The fic also does a lot of really cool stuff with Constance's powers and provides some great mental visuals of what Curtain is going through. Speaking of psychics, @acollectionofcuriousreblogs's "The Psychic File", which, no, I have not finished, but what I've read so far is really good. It expands on an AU plotline of the book that I'm not as familiar with because I haven't read ROA, so I've really enjoyed it and there's some great OCs in there as well.

17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

What I'm doing right now. Procrastinating on writing fic by doing stuff on tumblr, even though I was already procrastinating on irl responsibilities by writing fic in the first place. Honestly, the problem is less writer's block and more "I have a point in the plot I'm excited to write about, but I gotta write other stuff first" and that's where I'm at right now in my fic writing process. It's not that this stuff isn't interesting and that you as the reader won't enjoy it, it's just not the part I want to write right now. But I've been getting some more motivation and I will get to it. Eventually.

20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

Words and expressions? Oh yes. I include stuff like "I mean," "Um," and "Well," waaayyyy too often, and I need to stop. And for some reason, whenever I needed Garrison to exit a scene in the first half of SOS, the only thing I could come up with was having her go back to her apartment to go to bed. I'm shocked no one has left a playfully passive-aggressive comment calling me out on that yet. I think I did that at least three or four times. I guess it is rather in character, the poor woman just wants somewhere to cry in peace. I've also gotten a bit braver on expanding my neurodivergent head canons and writing them into my fic. I say "braver" because even though I'm neurodivergent, no one person can be neurodivergent in every way (at least...I don't think so. Some disorders in the DSM directly contradict each other so I'd be fascinated if someone can claim literally everything and so would a good many medical professionals), and I want to make sure I'm doing it accurately and well. I mostly stick to writing (or hinting at, or allowing for) neurodivergencies that either I have, or irl friends and family members of mine have, which works really well in MBS, because the disorders the characters are hinted at having are the ones I'm the most familiar with, and it allows me to "write what I know" so to speak.

As for common themes, I'm a sucker for redemption stories (if that wasn't clear between my Martina Redemption fic, my redeemed Nathaniel Benedict was once a semi-good person fic, the one where Curtain has some regrets, the one where the Benedict siblings believe they're monsters who don't deserve love). I just love the idea that no matter who you are, or what you think you've done, or what you have done, destroying yourself or trying to erase yourself because you think what you've done is too terrible and the world would be better without you, is wrong, because you, today, can chose to be better and do better, and you shouldn't deprive the world of that goodness because someone out there might really need it, and it's never too late in the game to decide to start putting that goodness back out into the world. I'm sorry that I overdo it, but I just love that theme. It gives me so much hope not just for myself, but for humanity, and it reminds me to be kind to and forgiving and understanding of others and patient with myself (though I'm still working on the "myself" part). I also just wanna say that since writing these fics, especially SOS, I've gotten a lot of messages that say things like: "as someone who has done really bad things and is ashamed of who I once was and is trying to make up for what I did and become a better person, this was a message I needed to hear so thank you for writing this". And I want you all to know that that means so much to me, because me too guys, me too 💕 you're definitely not alone in that. It's a message I think we all need to hear sometimes. (Although I will add that based on your ask game responses, some of you all are pretty young, and as someone in their 20s who has made her fair share of mistakes, I will say that you guys are way too young to be thinking you're beyond hope at this point. I don't care what test you got caught cheating on, I don't care if your entire school hates you because of something you said without thinking, and I don't care what personal friend group drama you were involved in. You are still a loved and wonderful kind person, and you still have plenty of opportunities to be a good person going forward).

21. Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

I would love too! I’m not sure how that normally happens, but you all have great ideas and if you ever were like “can you write this part for me?” or “I don’t know how to get from this point of the story to this point, do you have ideas or can you come up with something?” I would try my best to help and would love to write a story with you (time permitting). DMs are always open!

33. Do you want to be published some day?

Technically, I’m already published. It’s nonfiction I’ve written for my job, and I don’t make money off it, but it has my name on it (my real name so sadly I can’t share it with you sorry). As for my fiction, yes, I would like to be published someday, though right now it’s more of an impossible dream. Unfortunately, while I seem to be able to generate a surplus of ideas based off of books and television shows, (especially when I get hyper fixated on it) I have quite a bit of trouble applying what I've come up with to a 100% original idea. I would like to someday, I'm just not sure how. It would certainly help me out financially to have writing I could make any amount of money on, but again, I'm not sure how, and for right now, I'm content enjoying the hobby.

74. You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

For fic, I’d say you could tell pretty easily based on themes and tropes. I love redemption fics, I love neurodivergent head canons, I love found families. Really, any fic that goes to really really dark angsty places, but ultimately has a happy (or hopeful) ending. I tend to gravitate towards that "no situation is too hopeless, no one is beyond redemption" theme. I know I just talked about it, and yes, it's overdone in my writing, I know, but you guys seem to enjoy it, and if it's not broke, why bother fixing it?

Thank you again for the asks and please have a lovely evening! 🥰🥰🥰

[superbcandyangel]

💪 💻 🦗 and 🎵 for the writer ask!

💪 What motivates you to write?

at a very basic level, I can't Not write — that's the pressure valve for my brain, it's gotta come out somehow.

in more specific terms, though, I tend to start fics once I reach a certain level of frustration that some aspect of the story or the character isn't being explored in the depth that I think it deserves, certainly in the source material but especially if I feel like even the fandom isn't doing it justice. I can muse about it in my own head all day long (and I do) but if I see that there's a distinct lack of my particular brand of crazy even amongst the rest of the weirdos (affectionate) I am compelled to change that.

💻 What do you write your stories on? Laptop, phone, paper, etc.

I write on my phone if I'm doing anything creative, since I get way too anxious about it not being Professional enough otherwise. it feels like a more direct stream of consciousness without being bogged down in all the expectations that come with associating computers with school and work.

🦗 Do you write in sequence or jump around?

jump around!! I haven't written anything chronologically since I was nine lmao. it keeps me from getting hung up on having to write my way to whatever point in the story I've suddenly felt inspired for, plus there's a special sense of accomplishment when I finally connect two previously disparate chunks and make it flow smoothly.

seems like 90% of my process is just optimizing the conditions to not let anything intimidate me out of doing my own hobby 😅😅

🎵 Do you make playlists for your fics?

sometimes, but mostly for general ship or character vibes than particular fics. half the time these just go toward my titles or into the mile-long document of painstakingly outlined AMVs that I'm never going to make.

some are sillier than others of course — Tom Lehrer's Masochism Tango for ImaHana, Tally Hall's The Bidding for anything Ouran-related, but most of the time if it occurs to me that something is a certified character-core song it's bc it destroys me emotionally (in the best way) to think about it in that context <3

[starrierknight]

PC beloved, back to the correct star emoji!

Reading books or listening to music... Man being a writer surely ain't easy huh? XD (I already knew that no worries) In all seriousness, somehow I don't have music that matches the characters. Usually I always find something for them, but now... Nothing. Not for these 3. Somehow. And finding books to read and being able to read them will be tricky unfortunately :/ But hey thanks for the advices anyway, I'll see if I can do anything with it

Plus maybe now that you know I wanna write I'll be more motivated even if it's not something you seem like you'd wanna read

I've also at some point tried to draw one of the characters but I just can't make it look good :// But hey it means I'm working on creating things at least!

The most annoying thing is when I get the urge to write at night, when I have a lot of thoughts including potential scenarios for the characters to be in, but can't actually. write.

Oh well. One day. Absolutely!

...Random question but do you like flowers? I'm thinking about flowers a lot lately and wanna see flowers other people like lol

- Star 💫

LMAO ikr??? you just gotta surround yourself with stuff that inspires you and hope for the best lol. there's no "one size fits all" solution, yk? and oh fr??? huh that's surprising to me honestly. maybe you could tell me a little about them (if your're cool w that) and I'll see if anything ik comes to mind?

ahhhh yeah, you mentioned having poor vision. have you ever had the chance to read on a kindle? my dad is visually impaired but he loves reading, so he's found that enlarging the font on a kindle as he reads really helps. and sure! anytime. I'm always happy to try and assist anyone with an interest in writing :3

heyyyyy!!!!! don't speak to soon!!! i try and keep an open mind for reading. if you ever decide to share anything you're working on with me, then i'd be happy to take a look. i can't promise to beta/critique it tho lololol.

yeah, yeah i get you!!! you could maybe try using picrew? it's this one website that let's you make cute lil customisable characters. maybe that would help? but yeah. i think that as long as you're creating stuff, ten you can't go wrong.

god tell me about it. it's why i'm a night owl lmaoooo. half of what i write/draft happens at night. i think the stillness allows me to concentrate better. usually this just ends up with me word vomitting in my notes app icl.... but i still find it helpful. god bless the notes app.

i do!!!!! i love flowers nvjsdsgdfbg,szdg a ohhhhhh they are so beautiful and bhave so much potential for symbolism!!!!!! grrrr they just. ohhhhh they're so cool. so happy to live in a world w flowers. it's a bit ironic tho, bc i get pretty bad hayfever LMAO. what's your favourite flower/s? :3

[kidflashimpulse]

Hey!! I hope your doing well! I wanted your advice because your such a good writer, do you have any tips for starting to post on Ao3? I was inspired recently to try something new with all the ideas bouncing around my head. I just hope my works don’t turn out shitty or anything because that’s just how my brain works lol. Anyway, I would love to hear any advice :)

plsdfg u don’t need to be so sweet to get advice <3 lol sorry jk

personally i started writing when i was so consumed by all this (in my head) world/plot building that i just had to write it out somehow. That started by just writing everything out in a really boring/straight to the point way as if i were just describing events to a friend or something. That became my practice of writing out an outline of the “whole” fic, so that u have a vision of what direction your writing is going and especially useful if u plan to post multiple chapters. In an ideal world, i’d have completely written up a fic before posting but that’s just not possible (for me) cause of time constraints, so i find an outline really helpful for this so u know what you still need to write when ur stuck like half way through or something but also keeps up the motivation to see your story to completion (i say this despite not having finished a multi chaptered fic yet oops lol)

i find this helpful too for one shots, just in general to map out a complete story.

besides that, i think the best two pieces of advice i read from authors that i think are super amazing was the following:

- quantity over quality

- there will always be someone out there who writes better than u

now they might not sound amazing and the first one a bit counter intuitive but i find them both super motivating and useful! The first one especially because it works on the best piece of advice of how to start writing/posting: you just gotta start writing it out.

again a bit silly but also something u might’ve heard from others too, because it’s also true. basically, it’s totally normal and very understandable to have reservations/feel nervous over your own writing. But the best thing to do is to simply start and keep going, writing as much as you possibly can, because it guarantees improvement with every sentence you write. You really do learn as u go, it makes you reflect on ur own process and what works best for u, and to analyse ur own work/criticise it, and then develop it to a point where you feel like “yeah ok this is alright”. It truly doesn’t need to be amazing, because everyone is their own hardest critic and others probably are way less harder on u and will see quality/strength in ur own work!

that’s why quantity over quality is definitely the way to go, because just writing is the only way to just keep improving ur own quality. And i find this to be so true out of experience because my first ever (unposted) fic was multi chaptered and whilst i had this whole vision for it i got stuck at some point and lost steam for it. So then i moved on to another fic hoping to get back into the swing of writing in general. It was supposed to be way shorter and silly and fun, which in the end, turned out to be the first fic i ever posted. It was crazy to me how different the writing quality from A Night Ins first chapter is compared to most of my first ever unposted fic. And even within A Night In, i really did feel like my writing was slowly improving with each chapter. And then it became so much bigger (to me) than what it was initially planned to be like. Basically, the best thing u can truly do is just to start writing because you figure things out along the way and build your own rhythm. Also the best part is, you’re not forced to post anything you write, that choice is entirely on urself! Don’t feel pressured to post if u feel uncomfortable, but also don’t take it too seriously with the expectation that it needs to be perfect. It’s all at your own pace and most importantly, for your own enjoyment! Because theres nothing cooler than being able to share things u like, with others to enjoy too.

that’s where the second piece of advice comes in. I find remembering that there will always be a better writer helpful because it’s a reminder that ur own work truly doesn’t need to be perfect to be worth posting! You work on it until ur satisfied that ur vision/story has been made in a way that u can share it with others, that’s what it’s rlly all about. Because quality is both subjective (to an extent) and only something that can (objectively) be developed with practice/experience, but coming up with stories/ideas/plots etc, that’s something unique, no matter what it is, it’s in ur head. That, coupled with the intention of wanting to share it with others to enjoy it with u is the coolest thing, and who knows, u might also inspire others to also then share their own ideas :D (fan art/fics/theories have always been the most inspiring stuff to me)

so when u start posting, not only r u doing something rlly cool, sharing ideas/stories with ppl of the same community, but also working on ur own skills. I re-read what i have posted with the intention of catching typos etc or to see if i missed anything (i usually have but i’m so lazy so i still haven’t corrected them lol) and i just find it so cool to see my own development with each update, so i find that pretty motivating for continuing to work on things! And i’m not embarrassed by my past work, even when i think my older stuff is comparably worse than my newer stuff (especially that unposted one lol) but i feel really proud of them, because they’re what got me into writing and posting in the first place, and i’m sure others feel the same too. So don’t let self-criticism stand in ur way of doing something that u might really love and enjoy.

honestly, it sounds like uve got all the motivation and incentive and the right mindset already, the only thing is to not get too hung up on the fear of expectations, and you will be fine :D

very cool that ur planning on posting and hope u enjoy the process :) looking forward to reading ur ideas/work sometime :D good luck ! and i hope my advice was somewhat helpful lol apologies for the essay like rambles 😅

[johnsuhsposts]

NCT 127 x Songs that suit them cuz why not

some sucky scenarios by me

~~~

a/n: hiii<3. this is my first ever tumblr post. i just wanted to write this because i needed some inspiration to write smut for some of the members and i didn't know where to start like at all. anyways... this isn't for the faint of heart. i just needed to get this outta my system. like i have so many ideas for fanfics and this is how i'll get my motivation to actually write something decent. anywho, there will be more to come in the future!! so enjoy this meal.

~~~

(tags are at the bottom!)

warnings: explicit shit. that's all. xx

–

TAEYONG - Over Some Wine - RINI ft. Maeta

Taeyong would play this song while he goes down on you. I'm sorry but it's true. He would do everything slow just so you could get impatient but the more you whine the slower he'd go. Everything from touching you slowly, to him fucking you slow or playing with his thrusts to the beat. It's just... wowowwww.

–

JAEHYUN - Touch - Cigarettes After Sex

This song just SCREAMS Jaehyun. The whole vibe would just be a song that would play in the background as he holds you close to his chest and plays with your hair, and he would sing it a little to you, like ugh. He would teasingly kiss your neck under the dim lights of his room while his record player hums in the background, and you'd feel his cold yet wandering hands on your burning skin.

-

DOYOUNG - Thinkin about You - Frank Ocean

All I gotta say is, he would make out with you to this song. Making out would eventually lead to other things but he'd take his time and when you stop kissing to catch your breath, you guys would giggle at each other which is so cute. Though he'd use songs of a different vibe to fuck you, this would be one of the ones you'd hear while you make out with him.

–

JUNGWOO - Messages From The Stars - RAH Band

I'm not sure why I chose this as his song, but it fits him for some reason. Jungwoo, as innocent as he looks, is lowkey freaky as hell; say I'm lying. He'd literally have you seeing stars while he's fingering you to this song and laugh when you moan because he knows he's got you wrapped around his finger. Like, this man is a sadistic masochist and doesn't even try to hide his freaky side when he's with you.

–

HYUCK - Savita (feat. Swae Lee)

Donghyuck is literally a drama queen. But he's also so hot. Like smokin' hot. He would have this song playing while giving you backshots most def. He groans everytime you clench around him and it just makes him fall in love all over again with you. He would continue to fuck you so good that it'd have your legs shaking. He'd have no shame in breeding you either. Seeing you full of his cum was mind-blowing. It made him so hard to see his cum leaking out of you. He literally loved it.

-

YUTA - Rosemary - Deftones

Yuta loves the sound of guitars playing in the background mixing in with your heavenly moans. Half of his playlist would consist of rock music while he rearranges your guts and listens to your sweet sounds, spurring him on further. He enjoys just spending time with you period, and he'd do anything to have you go dumb on his cock with his favorite song playing.

-

MARK - Change Your Life (feat. Jhené Aiko)

Mark is the type to take everything slow. He loves having Kehlani playing from his phone as he's leaving hickeys all over your body and watching you shudder under his fingertips. He gets so hard everytime you whisper to him to fuck the absolute shit out of you. He just likes spending his time with you and doesn't regret any second of it. He would never get used to this.

-

JOHNNY - Daddy Issues - The Neighborhood

Johnny is the whole fucking definition of this song. While fucking the shit out of you with this playing in the background, he'd most definitely become an actual dad- minus the issues. He just loves the way you feel around him, and he'd cum so much just from being inside you, it's just shocking. Johnny would be the best daddy to your babies.

-

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a like if you enjoyed. More will be published in the future.

(Original work. Please DO NOT copy.)

(Not my original idea but the scenarios do belong to me.)

(feel free to reblog if you'd like!)

[nat-seal-well]

Firstly I love you blog so much, Hux is also my fave and you write him so well! It makes me melt 🥺

I was wondering if you could do a fic / if you had any head canons about Hux and the Freelancer in the winter time. I recently moved somewhere where it’s hot all year round and been feeling homesick for chilly weather (and just in general 🥲)

You’re so amazing, sending so much love! 🍃

Aw, thank you so much!! I’m always so happy when people tell me they like how I write him. I’m grateful you think I do him justice 💙 And as someone who always needs the cold and can’t stand heat, my heart goes out to you. Please don’t melt, anon ;-;

Usually it takes me a little while to do requests, but I was off at noon today and home when I got this, and for once the inspiration and motivation hit at the same time. It’s a little bit shorter than what I’ve done in the past, but it felt right when I was done with it. I hope you like it 💙

you can also find this on ao3!

winter is for resting

word count: 1314

The air outside is chilly when Huxley stands out on the back patio of his apartment. He breathes it in deep, letting it fill his lungs and wake him up a little more. It’s clean and fresh, and the feel of it on his face makes him smile.

Dahlia is currently in the throes of winter, and at five in the morning, the sky is still pitch-black. There’s no snow though, but that isn’t too surprising. It’s usually too warm for that. And when the temperature is cold enough, the weather is almost always dry. It’s a big change from his hometown.

Huxley expects clouds at least, but he’s pleasantly surprised to find none when he looks up. Stars greet him instead: tiny, glittering chips of ice that match the weather. He stares at them, admiring the way more stand out against the rest of the universe the longer he watches.

Mornings like this are his favorite. He likes spring and summer, sure—that’s when things are green and growing. And fall is nice, with all of the colors on the trees. Like one of those paintings. The ones where it’s just a bunch of little dots. Impression… something? The ones you can find in museums? But there’s just something alluring about winter.

He doesn’t know what it is, exactly. Well, maybe he does, but just doesn’t know how to put it into words. Not in a way that will make sense to other people.

Most of them, anyway.

The feeling of an arm wrapping around his own pulls Huxley from his thoughts. He doesn’t jump—he knows who it is—and looks down to see Freelancer peering back at him. They still look half-asleep, with wild hair and tired shadows under their eyes. Huxley doesn’t like those at all. They had another late night. But there’s a smile and a soft expression he can see even in the dark of morning.

Freelancer looks at him like how he was looking at the stars, all admiration, and that makes him feel warm and keeps away the cold.

It also makes him grin. Most things they do have that effect. “Mornin’,” Huxley tells them. “You’re up early.”

“You got up first,” is all they say, and try to stifle a yawn. It doesn’t work. “The bed’s freezing without you.”

“Only because you want the fan on all the time. It’s, like, middle of winter, babe.” He can hear the steady hum of it even from here, with the back door still open.

Freelancer wraps their arms around themself to keep warm, and Huxley drapes one of his own across their shoulders. They lean into his touch. “I like the noise. And I’d get too warm for blankets without it. Gotta stay cold so I don’t get hot.”

That sounds familiar. He laughs. “You really should meet Xavier,” he says. “You’d get along well.”

“I want to meet all of your team. From the way you talk about them, they seem nice.”

Huxley rubs their shoulder as they yawn again. “They are. But you should, like, probably go back to bed if you’re still tired.”

Unfortunately, Freelancer is nothing if not stubborn. “Sun will be up soon,” they insist. “I have plans to meet with Damien to practice—”

He quiets them by placing a finger over their lips, in a shushing motion. The touch is soft against his skin. “You were up working super-late, babe. Catch a breather, yeah?”

“I don’t want to fall behind…”

“You won’t if you take a day off. But you will if you don’t take care of yourself. If you go at a hundred percent all the time you’ll end up burning out,” he tells them. “I gotta tell the team the same thing, like, almost every day.”

And they don’t have an argument for that. Freelancer turns their attention to the little courtyard in the apartment complex instead. A tree grows in the middle of the lawn, and it clearly has been for a long time. Branches stretch up into the black and the stars. A significant amount of its leaves have dropped for the season, scattered in the green.

“...That’s an oak, isn’t it?” Freelancer asks, as though Huxley hasn’t just tried his best to lecture them in the gentle way he usually does. He’s pretty sure that they’re trying to change the subject. And by pretty sure, he means confident and without a doubt.

Unfortunately for them, though, Huxley knows Freelancer very well. As well as he knows his trees.

“Yeah, man.”

“I bet it was really pretty a few months ago,” Freelancer says musingly, almost as if to themself. “When I was little and my family would go camping, I used to look for acorns. I would pick up the ones without their tops and look for caps that matched. It used to make me sad, because I thought all the trees were dead. Things always look so bleak in winter.”

“People always think everything’s dead this time of year.” Huxley eyes the fallen leaves. “I mean… it makes sense. I guess it looks like it? Especially the deciduous trees—the oaks and stuff. But it’s all still alive, you know? They’re just… quieter. I like winter. I mean, yeah, it’s cold as shit, but like… it shows you how cool nature is.

“And oaks, most of ‘em, they drop leaves in winter and people think they’re sick or something, but they’re not. I don’t know. I just think they’re neat. Oaks are strong as hell. Sometimes they just need a little nap, and then they come back like they always do, all green and bright.” Huxley pauses to watch the wind as it rustles the tree. Leaves flutter to the grass like snow. “And in fall, jays hide acorns in the ground. Like how squirrels hide nuts. And the ones they don’t eat, those stay buried and grow. And it helps the forests.”

“I didn’t know that. About jays, I mean,” Freelancer says after listening, taking in his words and processing them. He loves them for it, for the way they never mind letting him talk. There really isn’t anyone else who will do that for him. Not here, anyway. Not really. But Huxley’s starting to get off-track now; he’s gotta stay focused. There’s a point to this that he’s trying to make.

“It’s like, super sick. Circle of life and all that. Symbiosis. Everything needs something else to help them stay alive and grow. Even people.” He glances down. “...Even you, babe.”

Freelance laughs then. “I had a feeling this would turn into one of your self-care speeches, somehow.”

Huxley just smiles unabashedly and says, “You had it comin’. Stop driving yourself into the ground for once. And let me help you once in a while. You’re not an acorn anymore. You’re an oak; like, crazy-strong and resilient. But oaks still take a break in winter. You should, too.”

They exhale; a brief puff of white that vanishes. “I guess… I’m not gonna meet up with Damien until late afternoon. I can go back to bed for a little while.” Their eyes meet his, almost sheepish. “...Come with me?”

And that’s something he doesn’t even have to pretend to consider. Besides, the only reason Huxley even got up this early was because he wanted to go for a jog. That can always happen later; there’s plenty of time in the day for a run, but only a couple of hours where he can curl up under the blankets with his favorite Freelancer. Maybe Huxley can even turn off the fan and open the bedroom window so that both of them can breathe in the clean, crisp air, and really rest. Winter is for sleeping, for recovering.

“Hell yeah. You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He can’t wait to see how they’ll bloom in spring.

[straighttohellbuddy]

how the light gets in {Corpse Husband}

2. you’ve gone way too fast for way too long.

Summary: Supernatural Creatures AU. Them/Them Reader. After the success of your first stream, you find yourself wanting to get back to your YouTube roots, and what better way to do that than with a cover by one of the bands who holds a special place in your heart? And maybe you’re using it to distract yourself from thinking about how coming back to YouTube means coming back to the things - the people - you’d left behind. 

Maybe it’s selfish, but Corpse kind of wishes you hadn’t come back to YouTube; honestly, if anyone else had taken the world by storm, he wouldn’t complain half as much, except it’s you and he’s still mostly convinced that you might be an angel like him... Except better. Because of course you would be a better angel, you’re talented and driven and personable and essentially everything an angel should be, and - bar the talented bit, Corpse at least knows some of his worth - you’re everything he’s pretty sure he’s not. Except it seems like everyone loves you, and he doesn’t exactly have a good enough reason to be bothered by you the way he is, so he has to act like he isn’t. Which is a lot easier said than done, when you barely say a word to him and it feels like all of his suspicions are confirmed. 

A/N: 8471 words. Reader in the fic is stated to be 24. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SUPERNATURAL THE TV SERIES. me, trying to walk the line between 3rd person omniscient narrator and trying to make the narration feel like its somewhat coming from the POV character?? it’s more likely than you think! as always, i really appreciate feedback.

{ m a s t e r l i s t }

Taglist: @nanasort @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @theboywhocriedlupin @taikalinna @jaychirps @bingusmode @divine-artemis @realmejay @lovemelikepercy @balla-deer @miniritzcrackers @loraleiix @ppopty @easygoingtheatre @insanedeathwish @siriuslystupid @losvertown @janiathecat @wineandionysus @moonlightsimp @allylyew @chokingonflxwers @sicnesa @xxniksxx @mishisamess @preciousskye @yashinosakura @meleekabenjamin @whatamievendoinghere01 @lxurxn-02 @liljennyx3 @the-fusionist @benjaminka @lilysdaydreams @a-lonely-bic @letsloveimagines @melmachh @tama-chan-suneater @shio-yuki @fairywriter-oracle @easygoingtheatre @pixelbxtch @dreammoutlouddd @abysshaven @mediocrearistophanes @tsukishimawh0re @inkbyajm @jordiee95 @honkcorpse @kaiihaan @takenbyheartstrings @mrtony-stank1 @dangeroustreebread @xibrokensunriseix @corpseglider @artsyally @ellsbells2143 @machine-gun-casie @marvelsmurphy @bigmac-papi @danielle143 @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @starstruckllamapuppy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @fee-btheweeb @parkerpeanuts @fanfictionenthusiast @evans-dejong @pancakebinnie @minbunbun @sabrinarahaman @thefangirl05 @jades-bullshit @fo-love @roses-and-grasses @thirstyfangirl @lovelysmp @325575 @wrongcielo @lukathecrime @lunariasilver @delicrieux @rebloogggs @kookiesandtae7 @mizxkii @effielumiere @happyyyandcrazyyy @teenageguitarist @prettylittlealiengirl @aroyalharknessblr @kylie-writes-stuff @annshit @haunteddeputymugpersona 

taglist is always open! message me if you’d like to be added xx

----

The day after your song drops, it’s on Spotify’s Top 50 Viral playlist, it’s charting on iTunes, it’s splattered across the internet, according to your manager, who sees fit to text you, congratulating you on what she assumed to be a masterful marketing tactic; releasing the song and immediately streaming alongside huge YouTube creators who have a wide and diverse fanbase, all plugging your music. She thinks it was a carefully calculated move, which makes you feel all kinds of scummy, like you were using your new friends. Thankfully, when you fire a somewhat defensive response about how you had no ulterior motive, that all you wanted to do was have fun and make friends, your tone apparently reads loud and clear, as you receive an apology a few moments later. Backtracking, she simply mentions that, even unintentionally, you had great timing, and she’s glad you had a good time, which is better, and you try not to dwell on your initial assumption. Years of your life had been spent worrying that the people you were close to just thought you were using them for views or fame; her words did little to quell that worry, so instead you tried to distract yourself, or at the very least, focus on the good that yesterday had brought about.

The best, of course, was Sykkuno, the hellhound who’d endeared himself to you almost immediately. Something about him makes you feel safe, though perhaps it’s that you’re unused to someone feeling so familiar; you like to think you’re a good judge of character, so for now, you’re trusting in your instincts, trusting in Sykkuno. The next best thing was a tie, between friends and freedom. Yesterday you’d been doing what you wanted to do, not what you thought you should be doing, not what was on brand, or carefully scripted; you were messy, stumbled over your words, and you laughed and deceived your friends as was the aim of the game, it was so freeing to be unfiltered. People kept saying it was nice to see you smile, to hear you laugh again. Huh. Part of you really doesn’t like that you know exactly what they mean, and more importantly, why people are saying that at all. But things are different now, are freer now; your brand was built on you, it’s nice to get back to that.

By mid-morning, you’d been sprawled out on your sofa for almost an hour, glad to be alone, to not have to worry about being seen, as you’ve phased your tail back into reality, and have it holding up your phone as you scroll through Twitter with one hand and fidget idly with the other. More and more you’re seeing supportive comments from people gushing about the few bars you’d sung of 5 Seconds of Summer’s Youngblood on stream yesterday. First your chat had loved it, now it seems the general consensus was that people would love for you to cover more than a few bars. While you tried not to listen too much to what other people wanted, you couldn’t help but admit that it was something you definitely wanted too.    

When you text your manager, new idea already taking hold of your focus, your earlier unsavoury text conversation seemingly forgotten, your manager reminds you that you should be working on your new album, putting together the tracklist for your EP. Ugh. 

It’s not that you didn’t have ideas, quite the opposite; you’re exploding with ideas, brimming, overflowing with them, for songs you wants to write and feelings you can’t express any other way, but the songs and collaborations you’ve already completed, their mp4 files sitting neatly on your desktop, you wanted to save them for the full album, like it was some sort of penance for getting to collaborate, getting to become friends with people you looked up to, people who inspired you. To you, their contribution was worthy of your full album. 

Well, that was part of the reason, the other part was that the songs you had designated for the album had a different vibe to your EP songs; albumtouralbumtour and imposter syndrome had both been written in lockdown, about very specific concerns you were having at the time. The EP was shaping up to capture a very specific moment in time, while the album was so much more than that. You couldn’t put read at five am on the EP, the collaboration you’d done with Troye, a lyrical-lament with a dissonant, upbeat melody, an apology for when you’re the one who cuts off contact with someone you’re close to and don’t know how to say why, and don’t know how to come back; yes, the fact that you and Ethan are talking again means that the song is technically relevant to this period of time, but it’s three years of regret and indirect apology compressed into in three minutes. It’s going on the album. 

But being stuck at home all day for months had made you all nostalgic for your roots, for when you’d started uploading all the way back in 2012, at 16, with no idea what a few videos would lead to. You missed covering songs you loved, the songs other people had written and that you had still connected with, the songs that made you want to write your own. Yes, you loved your own content, obviously, but from idea to video publishing, you knew a low-effort cover would take you maximum a day and a half if you were particularly inspired, which you clearly were. By now, you’d been doing this for so long that you knew the legality of it all like the back of your hand, and were in a stable enough place to be more than happy to pay royalties to the band you’d co-headlined alongside for your first international tour.

“What if I call the boys and ask them?” You decided to just call your manager directly, tail curled securely around your phone where you’d put her on speaker, pottering around your kitchen trying to find something to eat. Alison, on the other end of the line, sighed deeply, having been fielding these sorts of calls from you about once a fortnight since lockdown had started.

“Have you finished moment before impact yet?” She countered, and you wrinkle your nose; its as if she can hear the expression through the phone with the way she continues on, not giving you a moment to cut in, “listen, I won’t tell you what to do, but you need to make a decision about your EP tracklist soon, okay? The label’s breathing down my neck, you know you have more than enough songs for it.”

“Alison, the vibes -”

“The vibes, Y/N, I know,” she sighed deeply, but you could hear the faintest smile in her voice.

“I promise I’m working on my own stuff; I think moment before impact is gonna be a collab, but I’m not sure who with yet, but if it makes you happy, once I record this 5SOS thing, I’ll work on a demo of moment for the EP,” you concede, and you hear her hum in approval, “I promise I have all the songs in my head, I just gotta make sense of which ones are the right ones for now, you know?”

“I really don’t,” you could hear her actually smiling now, so you let yourself relax for a moment, hands braced on your kitchen counter as you looked to your phone, “but I suppose that’s why you’re the musical one and I’m the manager.”

“My favourite manager,” you told her sweetly, and her answering laugh is more of a snort. 

"Call the band, maybe they can work something out for you regarding royalties, if you plan to monetise it," she suggested, and you hummed, "keep me updated, okay? Make sure you're still working on your own stuff though."

"Alison you're a national treasure," you tell her feelingly; you don't even have to see her to know she's rolling her eyes.

But you take her advice, sending 'what if I covered Youngblood and posted it to YT? I'll pay you royalties' to the mostly dormant WhatsApp group you have with 5 Seconds of Summer, despite it being about six in the morning in Australia. Callum sends back a thumbs up almost immediately. Its all the confirmation you need to get started.

As you’re hunting through your house for a pick, turning over cushions, looking through junk drawers, you hear your phone go off, and you take a moment to check, surprised by what you see. A message from Sean. Huh.

[I see you’ve finally decided to join us in the gaming community, took you long enough 😊 If you ever wanna play something, just gimme a yell, you know Id be glad to have ya on my team.]

Considering the fact that it had been three years since you and Sean had properly been in contact, you find the message both surprising, and strangely heartwarming. There were a few people you’d purposefully fallen out of contact with, plagued by your own fears and self doubts. The people who you’d seen in person almost daily were the ones who you’d felt the absence of the most, but Sean, just by his close association with those people, along with a few other international friends, had been regretfully left behind also. Here and now, you can feel just how much you’ve missed him, how guilty you feel for giving in to your own anxieties and the negativity spewed by others. 

But you know you can’t dwell on the past, on your mistakes, all you can do is be grateful for the opportunity to reconnect, and take it.

[ID: A tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter and @goldeny/n, followed by a single tweet by @ZeRoyalViking, and a tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter, and @5SOS.

@yourtwitter: someone yell at me for doing another cover instead of my original stuff. quarantine got me feeling 17 again. might do the cinnamon challenge next. or finally do that Roast Yourself trend 4 years too late. | @golden_y/n: BRUH YOU BEST NOT BE PULLING OUR LEGS | @golden_y/n: I would empty my bank account to see you roast yourself. | @yourtwitter: Please Don't Do That YouTube Is Free | @golden_y/n: 😳💀💖

@ZeRoyalViking: stream today with some familiar and not so familiar faces!!

@yourtwitter posted an image of Griffin McElroy from the My Brother My Brother & Me TV show. Griffin is a Caucasian man wearing glasses and a blue checked shirt. He is visible from the chest up and is sitting behind a desk with one arm in front of him, with his thumb out, as if counting. The image’s subtitles have been edited, now reading ‘My friends are very much into the following: Bullying me on TikTok.’ | @yourtwitter: @luke5SOS is just mad im gonna sing his song better than him. he doesn’t use twitter anymore so i have the upper hand here. | @5SOS replies with a gif of Jason Momoa, who is incredibly muscular, with dark hair down to his shoulders, a black tank top, and sunglasses on, holding a microphone, standing in a confrontational manner, captioned ‘No, no, no. By all means, speak your mind. You got a problem with my boy?’ | @yourtwitter: HE WENT LIVE UNPROMPTED TO TELL PEOPLE ABOUT HOW I WROTE NOTIMETOSLEEP IN THREE DAYS WITH NO ACTUAL SLEEP, OPENED FOR THEM IN ARIZONA, AND IMMEDIATELY PASSED OUT FOR 16 HOURS AFTER WALKING OFF STAGE | @5SOS: we just miss you tho... and it is kind of funny. | @yourtwitter: the minute im allowed to safely leave lockdown im coming to australia to german supplex the lot of you. ❤️

End ID.]

Corpse’s whole ‘not thinking about you’ plan goes down a lot smoother when you’re not actively stealing his friends- what kind of Angel goes around stealing another person - another Angel’s, no less - friends?! Except, right, he doesn't actually have proof that you're an angel, just a hunch he’s apparently committed to... and, okay, you don't know you're stealing them... Sykkuno and Rae are allowed to have more than one friend. Obviously.

"Honestly, I'm still kind of riding the high from yesterday's stream," Sykkuno’s all kinds of elated in the voice chat, and Rae's quick to chime in, matching his tone, his energy, as she agrees.

"I cannot believe Y/N played with us! I’m sorry you missed it, Corpse, I think you'd love them," Rae is adamant, to which Corpse, from behind the safety of his monitor, makes a face.

"What makes you say that?” Even as he says it, as he tries to keep the negativity from his voice, his nose wrinkles, the expression shifting his eyepatch just a little.

“I don’t know, just something about...” Rae’s voice turns thoughtful as she considers, though Sykkuno takes the chance to pipe up, voice brimming with his trademark sincerity.

“You guys have weirdly similar vibes, like kind of a similar energy?” He tries to explain before a faintly embarrassed laugh escaping him, even with Rae humming in agreement, “not the exact same, obviously, but like, I don’t know, I think you’d really like them.” The problem with having Sykkuno for a friend is that he’s almost always trying to be genuinely kind or helpful. The problem is that Corpse can tell he believes what he’s saying. 

An angelic ability that often goes overlooked, even by angels themselves, is the innate ability to tell whether or not someone’s lying. It’s like a faint buzzing, low grade tinnitus, at the sound of a lie, something that can actually be pretty effectively ignored and forgotten, but right now, the lack of buzzing with Sykkuno’s words is frankly irritating. Not that Corpse can say that, he has no real reason to be jealous of your fast forming friendships with his friends, well, not any reason he can admit to on stream.

"You know what,” Sean muses, finally joining the conversation, “It’s been a while since I properly spoke to them, but I totally get what you mean,” fucking great; of course he agrees, “did anyone invite them to play; would love to have them here if they’re up for it.” 

"I think they're working on a thing today, but I can message and ask?" It’s Sykkuno who speaks up, the barest hesitation in his voice, and to that Rae makes a proud little noise in the back of her throat. 

"You met yesterday on the stream that I organised, and suddenly you're all best buddies? Gonna be honest, I’m a little jealous,” she admits, to which Sykkuno huffs a soft laugh, uncertain of what to say, though Rae’s tone is fond and she continues on, “seriously though, good for you, dude, finally getting the recognition you deserve -"

And on the one hand, yes, Corpse would agree that Sykkuno deserved infinitely more recognition and praise than he currently received, but on the other, the speed at which you two had aparently become close - a day! It had been a day! - sets Corpse’s teeth on edge. It was all he could do to keep quiet as the others chimed in, all their sentiments mirroring Rae’s.

All this frustration and resentment was almost definitely unhealthy, he was more than aware, but something about you had fixed in his mind; if it had been anyone else, anyone less talented or personable or productive, he could have probably handled it, but you...

All he gets is two games worth of peace before Sykkuno announces that he’s gotten a reply. Aparently you’re in the middle of recording a cover. Something about knowing that fills Corpse with discomfort, with envy, like he should be working on his music instead of being here. 

"But they say they're gonna take a break in an hour or say, so they might join us for a few games," Sykkuno’s tone betrayed his bright smile, and suddenly the voice chat was flooded with excitement from almost all in attendance. 

"Wait, really? Just like that, we'll be playing with Y/N?" Leslie sounds disbelievingly hopeful, but thankfully it’s only a few moments until the next game beings. While none of the others had picked up on Corpse’s silence, his chat seemed confused. Purposefully ignoring their questions and comments on the matter, he instead gives a few comments on the game, trying to come off lighter than he was feeling. 

He’s not quite sure what he’s going to do if you join the stream, he’d never actually considered that he might one day talk to you, have to confront the person whose very existence got under his skin, who might very well be the only other person like him on this side of the world. Unsurprisingly, his head’s not in the game.

"Did you get enough sleep last night?” Rae feels the need to ask when whatever response he’d given in a meeting had just come out as an incoherent mumble. Of course he straight up laughs at her question, which is answer enough, and she clicks her tongue disapprovingly, “you’re impossible.”

“Have you drunk any water today -?”

“Sykkuno you’re dead,” Sean interrupts Sykkuno, who had broken one of the main rules of the game simply to question Corpse about his health; he’s far too caring for his own good, but moments like this make for good entertainment, “dead people can’t talk,” Corpse is grateful for all of five seconds before Sean turns on him, reiterating Sykkuno’s question like a traitor; “Corpse, have you drunk water today?” In lieu of a proper response, Corpse groans, playing at being annoyed.

“I say we vote him out because if he is the imposter, we win, and if he isn’t, he has time to go drink a glass of water,” Rae proposes matter-of-factly, which just leaves Corpse spluttering with disbelief.

“That’s fucking stupid; I’m not the imposter, you’re basically throwing the game -” but the votes are already popping up, and unfortunately, for the first time all stream, everyone seems to be in agreement.

“Drink water, Corpse,” Rae, clearly the leader of this mutiny, orders, as Corpse watches his character get flung into lava, and very begrudgingly heeds her words. He takes his sweet time drinking a full glass of water and refilling it to take back with him, intermittently glaring from his kitchen at his computer, despite the game still going on; he’s got several tasks left, if they don’t catch the imposters, they’re doomed, and honestly he doesn’t care. Once the game ends, with the crewmates’ loss, as he’d suspected, they all find themselves back in the lobby. Maybe they’re waiting for him. They can wait longer.

As he settles himself back into his office chair, he pulls on his headphones in time to hear -

“- earlier than I thought because of a whole thing on TikTok and then Twitter, and then my manager texted me telling me-” It’s like he’s turned twenty again at the sound of your voice; you, bright, earnest, rambling to probably Sykkuno or Sean or Rae, probably not even aware of him, but he’s never been more aware of you. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, but your second EP, hyperfocus, had been in heavy rotation on his Spotify since he’d discovered it, since he’d listened to the crack in your voice, the exhaustion with which you spoke on i’m going through some stuff when Lofi had just been taking off as a genre. He’s... conflicted, going through an internal crisis while you keep talking, blissfully unaware, “- anyways, I think she’s just worried that I’ll end up threatening to German Supplex Harry Styles, or the late, great, Prince, and I’ll end up cancelled.”

“Y/N,” your name sounds equal parts amused and concerned as Sykkuno says it, with the air of someone who’s been privy to you and your antics far longer than just one day. The response you give is just as bright and cheery as your rambling had been, assuring him that you wouldn’t threaten to German Supplex Prince.

“You sure about that?” Sean was obviously grinning, judging by his fond tone, “sounds like something you’d try -”

“I’ve changed, Jack- Sean- fuck,” your muttered swear undercuts your attempt at earnestness after you correct yourself, clearly not used to calling him by his actual name. To that, Sean gives a fond chuckle, before going right back to ribbing you.

“I’m pretty sure there’s still video evidence of you trying to square up with Mark in person,” Sean points out, to which you grow huffy and defensive, playing up your frustration. 

“Well, that was for a completely reasonable reason!”

“Which was?”

“I thought it would be funny,” tone flipping completely, the words come out so sincere and bright it’s almost tooth rotting; if he didn’t know any better, Corpse would probably find himself being endeared by it, “and it was! Plus,” though here you give pause, and something about the tone of the conversation shifts as you chew on the words you’d almost said without thinking, “it was funny,” you said, softer this time. Sean, sensing the shift, does his best to pick the mood back up, reminding you that both you and Mark lost the competition you’d been taking part in anyways, and asking if you really had changed.

Before you had time to answer, however, Rae spots Corpse’s avatar moving ever so slightly, and immediately jumps on him.

“Corpse! Did you drink water?” She asks. He unmutes so they can all hear his deep, beleaguered sigh. “I can and will bully you into taking care of yourself,” her heart’s in the right place, and it is mostly a bit, so he can’t be too put out by the fact that she cares.

“I can’t believe you all voted me out because of it,” he chooses to respond instead, and Rae’s cackle echoes through the voice call.

“She also was the imposter, so...” Ze trailed off, a little sheepishly, to which Corpse rolled his eyes, not that anyone can see. Of course she was. But he’s not even given a moments before -

“You must be Corpse!” The moment the words leave your lips, every single goddamn nerve in Corpse’s body feels like it’s alight; everything overwhelming, unfamiliar,. white-hot, he’s suddenly desperately trying to keep his various abilities in check, since he really doesn’t want to short out his whole system, end the stream early, and probably cause his building to go into a blackout, just because of whatever this is. The whole world has changed with four words; better and worse and more more than anything. It’s... it’s a confirmation of some kind, and he tries to hold onto that vindictive feeling in his chest. You are familiar, you are something he recognises like no-one else he’s ever met before; you are like him. Is it better or worse now he knows it’s the truth?

“Must I be?” He manages to respond, keeping his voice as level as he’s able, shooting for vaguely amused and trying not to let any of the past few seconds sudden overwhelming panic and triumph bleed into his voice. But the moment you hear him, there’s a sharp gasp; that same something, understanding, recognition he’d felt, you feel it too.

“Y/N, you okay?” Ze had asked, and you made a vaguely muffled noise of unconvincing confirmation. Out of sheer, idle curiosity, Corpse opened a new tab and searched up your YouTube channel where you were streaming.

“Maybe we should have warned ya’,” Sean offers with a light laugh, before lowering his voice, immitating and announcer as best as he could, “warning! Corpse is about to speak!” Which at the very least got Corpse to laugh, though he refused to give anything away as your stream loaded, and the banter continued in his ears.

“Har har,” you muttered sarcastically into the voice chat, right as the stream finished loading, and - you. Well dressed, face in your hands, heels of your palms pressed against your closed eyes; honestly, he doesn’t exactly have any prominent initial thoughts about you, watching you scrunch your face up in your hands, dealing with the same thing he had to, though your face was live to thousands. Beside you, the text chat for your stream was going almost too fast to read, but he managed to follow a few threads of thought here and there.

[an eye thing! they’ve got an eye thing!] [someone @ y/n_creature_spec on twt!!] [who has an eye thing??] [lmao love that they were so shocked hearing corpse that it set off their eye thing] [hello!! vampire here!! we have eye things!!] [u cant be a vampire it’s the middle of the day] [THERE ARE COUNTRIES OTHER THAN AMERICA YOU KNOW] [i am willing to put MONEY on the idea of them being fae of some kind.] [^^yeah they just didnt want us to see their eyes sparkling like an anime character.] [that feels like smthn corpse could bring out in people]

And then you’re blinking back to reality, bringing him from his thoughts as for one terrifying moment, it’s as if his gaze locks with yours. Expression so bright and inviting, despite the way your eyes were watering just a little, you hold eye contact with your camera for a moment before looking at your screen, mumbling something about an eyelash in your eye; Corpse lets out a shaky breath. Chat seems unconvinced, but at least the other streams take you on your word. For a few more moments, he quietly watches you, watches the way your eyes roam your screen as you order your thoughts, and for all that he’s thought of you, he’s never properly looked at you. It’s taken him until now to acknowledge that there was definitely a reason for your success beyond just your talent; certainly you could have become successful from your music alone, but your career certainly wasn’t hindered by the fact that you’re actually quite- suddenly, Corpse is overcome by the sense that he’s intruding, exiting out of the window immediately, even going so far as to push back from his desk, fingers spread wide, braced against the edge, trying not to think too hard about... any of it. If he thought too hard about what it meant to have another angel in LA, he would drive himself mad.

“Well, Corpse, it’s good to meet ya, been told great things,” to him and him alone it’s so clear you’re trying so hard to play it cool, though Corpse couldn’t fault you for that, doing the exact same thing; again, when you speak to him, it’s like his whole being is hit with a rush of warmth; it’s less overwhelming this time, somehow scalding but bearable now.

“I see Sykkuno’s been spreading lies about me,” Corpse fires off instinctually, to which Sykkuno splutters protests at the implication, despite your bright laughter, and Sean’s shout to the contrary.

“Don’t be mean, Corpse, Sykkuno would never lie about you,” Sean is adamant, and Corpse can tell he’s being honest, just as the tell-tale ringing in his ears knows the next words from Sean’s mouth are utter lies; “me on the other hand? Y/N whatever you do, do not listen to Corpse’s music, it’s just the worst.” Before the implication, the reality of what he’s saying sinks in, for just a moment, Corpse feels a rush of affection for Sean, so clearly and earnestly plugging his music, right before your voice re-joins the chat and Corpse remembers exactly who Sean is plugging his music to.

“Fuck you, J- Sean, I do what I want,” while you played along, amused and light, Corpse himself was at a loss for words. You ask him - him specifically, he knows, he knows with absolute certainty you’re asking him - if he’s a musician, and everyone else chimes in before he can even think about finding his voice.

“Don’t search him on Spotify! Don’t do it!” Sean, on the verge of laughter, seems delighted by the turn this conversation has taken as the sound of aggressive typing fills the chat from your end. What the fuck. What the fuck?! No matter his thoughts and opinions about you and your possible supernatural origins, you were still Y/N, literal Grammy winner and Golden Child from the Golden Age of YouTube, playing along as Sean used the world’s worst reverse psychology on you to get you to listen to his music. Oh fuck, this is not how today was meant to go.

“I don’t wanna hold up the game, I’ll listen as I play,” you tell them, almost painfully polite, though Ze agrees to start the next game. If Corpse’s mind wasn’t in the game before, there’s no way in hell it was now.

Three minutes into the first round and he’s failing miserably at card swipe when he chances a look at his chat; people were spamming lyrics from Miss YOU! and Cat Girls Are Ruining My Life! which was sweet but nerve wracking, since he’s pretty sure it means you’ve already listened to one and moved on to the next. If you’re an angel, and you know he’s an angel, what in the hell would you think of his music? Honestly, even if you weren’t an angel, you’re still you, and his music was... well...

When the first meeting is called, and it’s discovered that you’ve been murdered, there’s a strange sense of relief that comes with it, even as he’s being accused of your murder. He’s got a solid alibi, so they end up voting out Sean, and the game continues. Despite the brief reprieve from your possible judgement, his heart still feels as though it’s skittering erratically around his ribcage. 

Rae comes along when he’s doing Simon Says, and shoots his little avatar. The moment he becomes a ghost, he lets out a long breath, giving himself a moment to relax, to collect his thoughts, catching back up with some questions with chat  he hadn’t quite realised he’d been holding, and chances a look at his chat again.

“Of course I’m tense,” he finds himself musing quietly to his chat while the remaining players were arguing over the top of each other in a meeting, “pretty sure most of hyperfocus has been in my Spotify wrapped every year since it was released,” for a few moments, it doesn’t even occur to him what he’s said, or that he’s said it out loud, but when it hits him- oh, oh no, it feels like too much to admit, and he has no idea what to say next, how to backtrack, how to at least pretend like he doesn’t think about you or your music any more than any other person would. However much he may resent certain aspects of it, he still knows he has a reputation to uphold, and panic and denial have never been a part of his reputation.

So he keeps his mouth shut, bites down on the half-hearted excuses and explanations that keep springing to mind, keep pressing against his teeth. He does his tasks quietly, thanks the people donating, and pretend it never happened until the round ends, heart in his throat. He knows, the same way a human survivor in a zombie apocalypse movie knows, that he’s just putting off the inevitable, and that someone’s definitely already clipped it and is probably uploading it to Twitter or Tumblr faster than he could protest.

“Y/N I’m so sorry!” Sean’s the first one to talk when they’re back in the lobby, which leads to your laughter filling the voice chat, telling him it’s okay.

“I didn’t even care, honestly I was just vibing,” the smile in your voice is almost enough to distract from the strained edge to your words, something not quite right, but so faint Corpse isn’t sure if it was really there, and he’s not quite sure anyone else heard it either. Except -

“Y/N?” Sykkuno says your name like it means something that no-one but you and him can decipher, something concerned, almost a question, checking in without being too obvious. 

“Yeah?” There’s that strained tone, just a little more audible this time, before you process who’s talking, how he’d said your name, and - “yeah,” firmer, calmer, a reassurance. 

“Vibing?” And he says it like that was his question all along, like the two of you hadn’t had a full conversation in three words. When the others started asking about what you thought of the music, it’s clear none of them have picked up on the hint of strangeness that had been in your tone, and you deliberate before answering.

“Am I- is it- it’s weird if I quote it, isn’t it -?”

“Jacksepdicy how I whip that!” Sean practically yells into his microphone, cutting you off and somehow making the line sounding even more Irish than he himself did naturally, which startles a laugh from Corpse, “it’s my name in a song, I think about it daily,” he announces, voice oozing pride, and despite the situation and headspace he found himself in, Corpse feels his heart grow warm knowing that even a line like that had brought Sean joy.

“I thought,” you pause for a moment, presumably to double check which song you were about to reference, “I thought Miss YOU was a whole mood,” you admit, the faintest smile in your voice, and something tightens in Corpse’s chest at that.

“You not gonna quote it?” Rae teased.

“Too nervous to follow Sean,” you fired back.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there one day, Y/N,” Sean laughs fondly, and you all joke around, playing up the bit, while Corpse’s mind is stuck on the fact that you never once addressed him when talking about his music. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it meant he didn’t have to deal with the sudden, fiery sensation your voice brought with it, so not bothered, persay, if anything he’s glad to know you liked it... But it’s weird that he knows so acutely -

“Hey,” and you don’t even say his name, but there’s that feeling again. Each time it grows less intense, like he’s been inoculated, and no instead of his nerves being ablaze, it’s as if he’s suddenly sitting beside a bonfire, each and every time you speak to him. The others voice their confusion at your sudden vaguness, but Corpse answers without even thinking, because of course he knows.

“Yeah?” 

A few moments pass, while the others carry on amongst themselves for the moment. The two of you sit in this one moment together, neither quite sure how to feel about it.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” you point out, though there was only the barest him of the earlier strangeness in your voice, now overpowered by something that made it almost sound like you were pleased. At this, however, even more confusion arises when the others figure out that Corpse had ‘guessed’ correctly, that you’d been talking to him. But he can’t really hear them, or, well, he finds himself tuning them out, swallowing hard before he pushes to talk.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy the moment?” He asked, trying to ignore the weirdness of it all, keeping his tone light.

“I’m just surprised; it’s your music after all.” 

“You like hearing my voice?” Despite the surprisingly cocky way with which he speaks, he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, wincing internally. Of all the people he could have said that to...  

“I never said that,” and though your own tone matched his, something teasing, something that could almost be misconstrued as flirty in the right circumstances, he’d heard the faint thread of discomfort, feeling it all too much himself. But your words, and thankfully your tone, was overshadowed by both Sykkuno and Sean jumping in to assure Corpse that they enjoyed hearing his voice.

“If you and Y/N ever collaborated, you know it’d break the internet, right?” Rae interjects, all kinds of smug and knowing, followed by a chorus of approving voices all broke out in unison as the rest of the lobby considered the possibility.

“Rae, you know our Twitter mentions are going to be going off for the next month now, don’t you?” You groaned.

“Maybe it’s a sign!” Rae exclaimed, delighted, before her tone turns teasing and fond, “and besides, aren’t your mentions always going off?”

[ID: The first four posts on Y/N’s Tumblr dashboard.

blueheart-anon hearing y/n and sean interact again after like 3 years unlocked memories like im a fucking sleeper agent. having war flashbacks to 2017′s ‘y/n is septiplier’s kid’ phase. how do i lock the memories up again im going to die of embarrassment why were we like that [tagged: #y/n #y/n y/l/n #jacksepticeye #sean mcloughlin #i WILL NOT add the ship tag i mentioned #blue talks] [7 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

fangloriousbastard  ↪️fangloriousbastard fangloriousbastard Rae: Y/N & Corpse Collab When? Y/N: 🔪 - fangloriousbastard Y/N IMMEDIATELY MURDERING RAE AND THEN CORPSE I- - fangloriousbastard Y/N MUTTERING THE JACKSEPDICY LYRIC WHILE MURDERING HIM WTF IS HAPPENING?? - fangloriousbastard SYKKUNO NO BBY IM SO WORRIED - fangloriousbastard Y/N IM BEGGING U TO STOP SAYING CORPSE LYRICS BEFORE U KILL UR FRIENDS - fangloriousbastard WAIT WHAT Y/N AND SYKKUNO BOTH VOTING FOR THEMSELVES INSTEAD OF EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard “ride or die guess im gonna die” y/N PLEASE U MET HIM YESTERDAY - fangloriousbastard y/n’s still listening to corpse’s music we love to see it - fangloriousbastard WAIT NO ZE KILLED SYKKUNO IN FRONT OF THEM AND THEY WON OMG SO MUCH IS HAPPENING DID THESE MOTHERFUCKERS QUOTE AN ACTUAL THE OFFICE MEME AT EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard Y/N: YOU KILLED MY BOY Ze: you’ve known him A Day! Y/N: you don’t have all the facts Ze: which are? Y/N: I love him. Y/N: Not in a weird, shippy way tho, but like, come on, man, look at him! Sykkuno’s avatar: 🌱                          👁👄👁 Sykkuno irl: 🥰 - fangloriousbastard ahem anyways corpse & y/n collab when? - y/n 🔪❤️ - fangloriousbastard 👁👄👁 - fangloriousbastard aren’t you supposed to be streaming?? [tagged: #HEWWO??? #among us lb #why do i only remember they’re following me when i post outrageously stupid content #btw y/n if u kill sean again i’ll cry] [43 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

fyahproof-y/n  ↪️ selkiey/n selkiey/n y/n’s explicit ‘i love him but not in a weird shippy way’ is the LOUDEST fandom vague i’ve ever heard in my life [286 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

crpshsbnd  ↪️ 221b-theres-a-bee crpshsbnd hope corpse is feeling okay he’s been kinda quiet this stream - 221b-theres-a-bee if someone suggested i make music with a grammy award winning artist i might be kind of quiet too - crpshsbnd asjdskldfjkdsf u right, still, hope that’s the reason. [tagged: #how do i always forget they won a grammy #actually i know why i keep forgetting #because every time i remember they won a grammy i remember the video where they jousted corndogs with joe sugg #and the winner had to deepthroat theirs for the camera #and y/n won but felt like an asshole for making joe deepthroat his corndog alone #and they ended up almost throwing up because they went too far with it #so hot #so talented #so very stupid sometimes] [3 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

Twitter is kind of a hellscape, Corpse decides, scrolling through his notifications as the stream’s winding down, seeing about a thousand different people tagging both you and him, asking for a collab, or seeing fit to show you both every single time one of you had mentioned the other in stream. Or had simply interacted. He’s not quite sure how to feel about hearing you mutter ‘make it rain, leave her wet, like a snowflake’. Unsurprisingly, a considerable few people had thought to clip the interaction where he’d apparently instinctively known you were talking to him, which he thoroughly regrets. There’s enough speculation about him online already, he doesn’t need people cluing into the fact that he might not be entirely human as well.

So now, he’s sitting idle in the lobby of the game as everyone’s thanking each other, discussing when they might get together to stream again; he’s quiet, disconnected from it all even though he knows he’s still live, he can’t help but stare at his phone, frown at your Twitter profile. You’re not following each other. A lot of his friends follow you, are mutuals with you, but you and he are not following each other, and he’s not sure if he’d like to change that. But it would make sense, right? It’s what’s expected.

Your pinned tweet is the single you released yesterday, which he still hasn’t listened to. The cover is cute; you’re - fuck. He refreshes the page. In the few moments since he’d clicked on your profile and now, you’d tweeted, thanking everyone for joining the stream, while you’re still in his ear, alongside everyone else, distinctly not addressing him. Maybe he should DM you, be upfront, ask about what you are, if his suspicions are true.

He hits the back button and goes back to scrolling through his mentions. 

“Hey.” Your voice, soft and earnest despite that warmth that crackles through him; he’s half distracted, hand moving instinctively to push-to-talk, and -

“Yeah?” God fucking damn it. Not again. He’s really gotta stop answering on instinct just because he knows you’re talking to him. He hates that he knows.

“Good to meet you, Corpse,” and there was a strange sincerity in your voice, and he responds in kind, but his heart’s not in it. There’s too much on his mind, too conflicted in his heart to tell the truth; his own words makes his ears ring. He can’t even lie to himself.

So he says his goodbyes, waits for the lobby to clear out and chatters away to his stream about when he might be on next. Upon ending the stream, he immediately opens the latest email from his producer, his latest project glaring back at him from the screen. 

Yes, his various ailments have his body aching, but the interactions he’s had with you are giving him a headache when he thinks too hard about them, and he feels woefully unproductive. Never Satisfied stares back at him, so close to being finished, mocking him. Scowling harder, he listens to what he has so far, making tweaks and notes, glad for the distraction, glad that his producer had as chaotic of a sleep schedule as he did. This was the home stretch; one more all-nighter and it would finally be done.

He texts Heartful that he’s getting to work.

It’s four in the morning when he finally stops for a break, his good eye starting to itch from staring at a screen for so long. With a yawn, he leans forward, out of his chair, groaning as he straightens up to a mostly standing position. Hands braced against the edge of his desk, he lets out a resigned sigh and wills his wings into existence. The weight of them curled up tight against his back, as was customary for them to be when non-corporeal, has him leaning a little further forward. Another yawn and he lets them uncurl, lets them stretch out behind him, knocking over an empty microphone stand as they went. He’d get that later. A grateful groan escapes him, it’s been far too long since he’d even had a half-assed stretch like this, wings helping to stretch all the aching muscles in his back that were simply impossible to stretch otherwise, no matter how much he’d twist. Even so, his studio wasn’t big enough to properly stretch them, and he really didn’t feel like laying on his living room floor right now; he’s kind of concerned he’d just fall asleep there. Instead, he kicks his chair to the side and hits shuffle on one of his Spotify playlists, doing what he can for himself in the limited space, and finally going to forage through his cupboards for something resembling a meal. Maybe drink water, Rae’s damn voice in his head.

At least with his wings around he didn’t need to bother turning on any lights; he’s gotta find joy in the little things.

Today, or well, the past twenty-four hours, was a series of cruel jokes, he decides, all leading to the moment he curls up his wings and sits back down at his desk. The moment he puts his headphones back on, he’s greeted by your voice, and he almost jumps a foot in the air, concerned that you’d called him.

"- who I became, dreading when the music stops, what if I just fade away?” In the split second he’s realised that it was just a song, just your voice, crooning, gentle and sad against a soft beat and the sound of rain, as i’m going through some stuff playing in his ears, it’s too late. Already his aura had gone off, and his computer cuts out, as his monitor cuts to darkness, so suddenly all he can see is his own, exhausted reflection in the monitor, backlit by his own wings... Not exactly flattering. 

Thankfully, it was only his computer that was affected, as he can still hear his refrigerator humming in the other room, so he wedges himself beneath his desk to reset the breaker for the power board that his whole system was connected to, grumbling to himself the whole time. 

If he was being honest, however, he was glad he didn’t have to hear more than a few seconds of your song. For a long time it had been one of his favourites, though at this point he’d rather die than admit that. Yes, it’s a good song, but it’s the last thing he needs to hear right now. If he listened to you voice half the fears he still tried to ignore, well right now it may kill him, and he was so close to being finished with Never Satisfied. So close.

Instead, he gives himself the moment in which his system is rebooting to scroll through Twitter and Instagram on his phone, checking his mentions for good fanart to appreciate, only to stumble across one of your stan accounts tagging both you and him in a clip that he hadn’t seen earlier. He’s not sure what possesses him to click it.

“Don’t follow me baby, swear I’m going to hell,” Corpse’s own words leave your lips as you’re focused on the game, on being imposter, leading Sykkuno into electrical to fix lights, and something about it sounds wrong and he can’t quite put his finger on it. He’d heard other lines of his leave your mouth, clips from the stream he’d been tagged in, and it always manages to surprise him. When you sing his songs, even just a little bit, something in the back of his mind, something that had appreciated you as an artist all this time, it’s grateful, it’s excited, it’s overwhelmed. He wouldn’t deny that part of himself, he couldn’t, it didn’t feel right, but upon hearing this line, that grateful part was overshadowed by a visceral bitterness.

The line had been a moment of self deprecation, the only Angel he knew of who, granted it was by some of his own choices, was almost certainly going to Hell, if you believe in that sort of thing of course. But you? Every single part of you seemed to be the exact antithesis to him; you’re what an Angel should be, and him? Well, the line said it all really. It’s just... it feels like you’re mocking him at every turn now that he knows, or well, strongly suspects. With evidence. Which you’re probably not; if you’re an Angel, you wouldn’t go out of your way to mock another angel, so now he’s all in his head, frustrated at himself for being frustrated at you for just... liking his song? 

He really should message you about earlier, clear things up, get out of his own mind and stop jumping to conclusions. Finding another angel was big, no matter his personal reservations, he should try and take this opportunity, right? Except that you hadn’t reached out to him either.

Damn it; he knows he needs to stop thinking about you and focus on his own shit. He turns off his phone and gently tosses it to the floor, out of sight out of mind. 

Maybe he’ll feel better when he finishes his song, feel more productive, feel... complete for just a few moments. Maybe he’d stop comparing himself to you. Maybe.

[ID: Two tweets, one from @sp00kybihh, and one from @yourtwitter, followed by a retweet and reply conversation between @ashton5sos, @yourtwitter, and @y/nirwin.

@sp00kybihh: why did y/n’s smile every time corpse just knew they were talking to him without them having to say anythign make me feel things?? u no we love day 1 ride-or-die y/nkunno, but corpse & y/n just seem to get each other wtf 🥺🥺

@yourtwitter: australians are asleep post forbidden youngblood cover

(Thumbnail of Y/N sitting in front of the camera, dressed casually, visible from the chest up. There is a black microphone on a stand in front of them that they’re holding. Their mouth is open, as if halfway through singing, their eyes are closed, their background is a simple, white wall. Above Y/N, in black, VCR font, is the word ‘youngblood’. There is a large play button in blue and white in the middle of the thumbnail, to indicate that it is a link to a video.

Link: youngblood - 5 seconds of summer | y/n y/l/n cover i miss my boys. i miss people. thank you 5sos for being cool about me covering this <3</i> twitter: @yourtwitter 🔗youtube.com)

@ashton5sos retweeted the link and commented: Y/N you said it was gonna be low effort, this is killer! All it’s missing is some drums. Reminds me, I’m still sad we never got to record that thing we wrote in New York. | @yourtwitter: ASHTON IT IS 8AM I HAVE HAD NO SLEEP AND WAS NOT EXPECTING SUCH A QUICK RESPONSE I WOULD DIE FOR YOU | @yourtwitter: also lmfao i forgot about that ny thing that was good, from what i remember. do u still have that recording of us?? i may or may not have forgotten everything about that night apart from it being a blast #bringbacknewyork | @ashton5sos: Calum has it but also its 2am and he’s asleep, which you should also do. You know the boys are gonna love this... #bringbacknewyork | @y/nirwin: thank u both i have decided to pass away effective immediately #bringbacknewyork

End ID.]

[sunsetcurve]

learn to love without consuming (1/4)

fandom: knight squad relationships: arc / ciara, minor or one-sided arc / oc and ciara / oc word count: 4,603

a/n: eek. it's finally here. if you follow me here you know that i've been working on this for a few weeks (months?), but the idea has been sitting in my drafts for basically forever. almost since i watched the show to begin with. the recent resurgence of the ks fandom prompted me to dig this back up and gave me the motivation to actually try and finish, because fuck it! i love my babes and i want more of them.

so quick note is that this picks up pretty soon after the season 1 finale but disregards basically,,, everything that happens in s2. s1 and the finale proceed the same way except prudy never finds out ciara's secret, so she and warwick don't know at the moment. this chapter was initially gonna have more scenes that drove the plot/romance arc but once i got upwards of 6k with a few major scenes left i decided it would be best if i split the chapter up, so for now it’s just a lot of me trying to work around the convoluted knight squad lore to establish my own. i know that's not exactly what everyone is here for, but i promise things on the romance/action front will pick up soon. i'll place warnings as detailed as i can get without spoiling in the tags and notes as i go, but just anticipate fairly significant violence by chapter 3.

anyway! i have talked enough. the title is from thus always to tyrants by the oh hellos, the rating is t for swearing/violence, there are three more chapters that are in the process of being written, and reviews are like crack as far as i'm concerned. i really hope you like this! thanks for reading <3

dedications: this fic is first and foremost for @ciara-knightly, who is not only my amazing beta but also the whole reason this fic exists. she helped me so so much with the development of the plot and worked through it with me even way before i decided to really start writing it, and i wouldn’t have been able to do this without her. all of the notes she left after beta-reading were so so helpful and really made this whole fic make sense so basically i owe her my entire life. she inspires me to be a better writer all the time and i love her. everyone say thank you shona!!! also tagging my lovely friends and some people who have expressed interest, who are in no way obligated to read this; @juliesdahlias @mistyskiesrambles @dr-rigatoni @willexs @taylorswiftrulestheworld @onplanetmars @neshatriumphs @zackmartin @julies-molinas @soni-dragon @yagorlemmalyn @hopefulbeautifulfool @cactus-con @waterisntreal @onetwothreefarkle @bitchmilsky

summary: “Now that Ryker isn’t a threat anymore, the councils are supposed to resume as planned, and Astoria is set to hold the first one two weeks from now.”

“Okay,” he says slowly. “That sounds exciting.”

Ciara nods. “It is! I finally get to meet some of the other nobility, and actually get to be involved in Astorian politics for once. But my dad won’t let me go without an escort,” she says, and then hesitates. “Which is where you come in.”

read it on ao3

The morning before training that day, Arc is testing his skills against a heavy bronze padlock when Ciara enters the squad room and drops a brown paper bag on the table in front of him. 

“These,” she announces as he raises an eyebrow at her, “are for you.”

He pulls open the package and is instantly greeted with a rush of warmth and the smell of vanilla. “Dragon puffs?” he says, half in awe. It’s a clear bribe, but he can’t help but shove a sugar-coated sweet in his mouth anyway. They’re an Astorian original and possibly the best thing he’s ever tasted; he’d tried them once at a bakery near the castle and hasn’t stopped thinking about them since. 

“Okay, what do you want?” he says then, words muffled around the cream and pastry.

Ciara pulls a face at his manners, but still manages to blink innocently at him. “Can’t I just do something nice for a friend?” she tries, but it’s half-hearted.

He swallows and grins at her. “Nice try, Princess. Your dessert deliveries always come with an ulterior motive.”

Huffing a sigh, she sits down next to him. There’s this subtle air of anticipation lingering around her, one he can only sense based on how in tune they are after so long of being teammates. The two of them have this easy way of reading each other now; they’ve been spending more and more time together, something having shifted in their dynamic after the battle against Ryker. He can’t quite place what it is, but he knows it’s only brought them closer. “Do you know what the Council of the Five Kingdoms is?” she asks finally.

He shrugs. “Sure. Nobles from each kingdom used to have a big ball every year to talk trading and politics and other boring stuff…”

“Except there hasn’t been a council since Ryker’s invasion, because the kingdoms have been isolated and preoccupied with their own safety,” she finishes for him. Her fingers tug at the lacing of her leather gauntlets; she’s nervous, but he still isn’t sure why. “Now that Ryker isn’t a threat anymore, the councils are supposed to resume as planned, and Astoria is set to hold the first one two weeks from now.”

“Okay,” he says slowly. “That sounds exciting.”

Ciara nods. “It is! I finally get to meet some of the other nobility, and actually get to be involved in Astorian politics for once. But my dad won’t let me go without an escort,” she says, and then hesitates. “Which is where you come in.”

Arc chokes on his second dragon puff. “You want me to be your escort,” he says flatly, once he’s finished coughing, “to the Council of the Five Kingdoms?” Normally he’d jump at the chance to spend a night dressing up and eating castle food. But the council is a decidedly different scene; there’s a set of formalities, politics underlying everything, and too many chances for him to expose his lack of knowledge when it comes to Astorian customs. Not to mention that Catalias’ royals will be there. He doesn’t know if he can stomach looking them in the face, knowing what they did to Seagate.  

Ciara grimaces. “Look, I know it’s not exactly your thing, but my dad won’t let me go alone. And this really means a lot to me.” Her eyes are pleading, and Arc feels his resolve chipping away.

“Can’t one of your actual guards go with you?” he tries. “Or, Prudy or Warwick or someone?”

“I’ve already talked to my dad about it,” she explains. “You’re the only Knight School student he’d let protect me, because you already proved you could when Ryker invaded. Besides, if something were to happen…you’re the one person who knows I can handle myself as Ciara.”

There’s this brief stretch of silence where Arc works his bottom lip, and Ciara looks as though she’s debating something. “Also,” she adds finally, with the soft flicker of a hesitant smile, “I thought it might be fun to go with you.”

Arc blinks at her, caught off guard by the admission. There’s this sudden buzz in his chest that he can’t push away; in truth, he doesn’t like the idea of her spending the night with someone else either. Maybe, by some miracle, this will actually be a good thing. “Alright,” he relents. “I’ll be your escort.”

Ciara’s face breaks into a grin. “Yes! Thank you!” She throws her arms around him, and he’s shock-stilled, a rush of warmth flooding through him as he hugs her back. When she pulls away, her eyes are shining with excitement. “Okay, I’ve gotta go tell my dad you said yes, and there’s a million things to do, but I’ll see you at training later. You are the best.”

“I expect dragon puffs for life!” Arc calls after her as she disappears through her passageway. He leans back into the couch, lightheaded, and in that moment, he realizes abruptly that there’s almost nothing he wouldn’t do for her. 

And he is so completely screwed.

*

Two weeks later, Arc is standing outside Ciara’s bedroom, waiting for her to finish getting ready.

It feels odd to be out here in the open. Generally his visits to her chamber are accompanied by an air of secrecy, but tonight, he’s a guest in the castle. He’s dressed like it, too, decked out in the guards’ typical formal wear: pressed brown pants, a white shirt laced up the front, and a navy leather jacket trimmed in gold, with Astoria’s crest on one shoulder. He looks kind of dashing, honestly.

Despite the confidence boost his new look offers him, his hand keeps drifting to the hilt of his sword. It’s sheer force of habit; he only associates this brewing sense of apprehension with battle, and his muscles are responding in kind. He’s glad, at least, that he turned down the other guards’ offer to lend him one of their ceremonial blades and instead has the familiarity of his own. Hopefully he won’t need it, but it’s a steadying presence all the same.

“Almost ready!” Ciara calls from inside, and Arc carefully unclenches his fingers from around the leather grip of his sword. He has to keep it together tonight; she’s made it clear how much this means to her. The last thing he wants to do is embarrass her in front of nobles from all five kingdoms.

Well, four, he reminds himself. Seagate won’t be attending. There isn’t anyone left to represent them. 

The thought makes his stomach twist. 

He’s saved from having to dwell on it by the sound of Ciara’s door unlatching. “Better prepare yourself, Princess,” he teases, leaning against the wall, “I look pretty good, and the last thing we want is for you to get too smitten—”

He breaks off as she emerges from the doorway, all the air in his lungs leaving in a sudden rush. He’s trying hard not to be the cliche of a guy scraping his jaw off the floor at the sight of a pretty girl in a dress, especially not like this, with Ciara—but he can’t help but think that it’s ridiculously unfair of her to come out looking like that. Her dress is a pale blue, falling gently off her shoulders and cinching at her waist, and her tight curls are weaved with strands of gold and tied into a low knot, some of them falling loose to frame her face. There’s a crown of gold leaves and rosebuds settled in her hair. 

“You...um…” Arc searches for his voice, “you look amazing.” His mouth feels dry.

Ciara smirks and reaches up to adjust the collar of his uniform. “You don’t look so bad yourself. I’m definitely smitten,” she jokes, like it’s nothing for them to be flirting openly. It should be nothing. Except his skin burns where her fingers brush against his neck, and he suddenly wonders if she can hear his heart pounding.

He clears his throat. “We should probably get to the ballroom.” 

She nods. “Give me your arm,” she says, looking at him expectantly. When he raises an eyebrow, she continues, “You’re my escort, remember?” 

“Oh, right.” He lifts his arm obligingly, his cheeks warm.

“I really wish we’d had more time to go over Astorian customs,” she breathes as she takes it, more to herself than anything. “Between training and helping with preparations, I’ve been so busy…” His nerves must show on his face, then, because she squeezes his arm gently and amends, “Sorry. You’ll be fine, don’t worry. Just stay close to me, okay?”

“Not a problem,” he grins without missing a beat, and Ciara scoffs and shoves him, the smile tugging at her mouth taking all the bite away from it. 

They can do this, he thinks. The two of them have kept up appearances for each other for months now, have fought and trained and battled Ryker together. They’re Arc and Ciara, unstoppable duo. One little party should be nothing.

As they make their way down the hall towards the ballroom, flanked by guards, Ciara lowers her voice. “When we get there, most of the nobles should be inside already. The herald will announce my father first, then us, and then each of the other three kingdoms. We’ll be beside the thrones as they come in—you’ll stand by me, left side—and once they’ve all been announced, we can leave the thrones and mingle. Bow to each of the rulers as they come by.” 

They had, at least, practiced his bow. Arc swallows back the dread in his throat; all he has to do is stand beside her and greet the other royals, it’s easy enough. For a moment, they linger outside the entrance to the ballroom, until an official-sounding voice announces the King. “We’re next,” Ciara whispers to him, eyes glinting with excitement. “You ready?”

He nods back at her, and the voice calls, “Accompanied by Sir Arc...Princess Angelica of Astoria!” They step into the ballroom, greeted with applause. Arc doesn’t think he’s ever been in a place this lavish; the walls are white, accented in deep gold, and the floors are polished to a gleam. The ceiling looks hand-painted, ornately decorated in constellations and swirling designs, and crystal chandeliers dangle over their heads, casting a golden glow over the whole room. He tries not to look too awe-struck. 

They make their way to the platform on which the thrones rest, Ciara nodding and smiling and waving at the other nobles as they pass. She stands next to her father, and Arc takes his place on her other side, placing his hands behind his back and trying, for all the world, to look like he belongs there. He wonders suddenly if he’s stood too close to her, and if it would make things worse for him to shift over now, and if his indecision is showing on his face—

And then, almost imperceptibly and hidden from the ballroom’s view by the folds of her dress, Ciara reaches over and links her pinky with his. It’s a tiny gesture, a friendly reassurance, but Arc feels a tide of warmth swell in his chest all the same. He lets his gaze flit to her for just a moment, and her lips are graced with a small smile as she tugs his finger gently. 

His breath hitches, and he fights to keep his face a passive neutral as the herald announces the next kingdom and he turns his attention back to the doorway.

“Presenting King Hugo, Queen Luciana, and their son Prince Isaac of Catalias!” 

Arc’s stomach turns as the couple enters, trailed by their son, all three of them swathed in lavish red and gold. Their reputation precedes them; he knows little about the prince, but the king and queen are infamous for their hoarding of wealth, their favorance of the rich nobles and landowners of their kingdom over the common people. Arc knows them best for what they had done to Seagate. 

His hand twitches for his sword, but he fights against the instinct.

True to form, the two have a haughty look about them, all starched clothes and stiff smiles as they bow to Ciara and the King. The two of them return the greeting with Arc following their lead—grudgingly.

“I am so pleased you could join us tonight,” the King smiles, a little tight-lipped. “It is high time that Astoria and Catalias united again.”

King Hugo nods back. “I couldn’t agree more. The honor is ours.” 

Arc detects a veiled sort of tension between the two of them, hidden well underneath the cordial formalities. He glances at Isaac, whose eyes are trained intently on Ciara even as he and his parents move to greet the other guests. Something about it is unsettling.

He’s so focused on Isaac that he almost misses the herald’s announcement of the next kingdom. “Queen Damyanti, and her children Princess Aadhya and Prince Kavan of Khurjan!”

Queen Damyanti is the picture of elegance, draped in silver silk that almost seems to glow against her dark skin. Aadhya looks around fifteen, with the same deep eyes and regal expression, and Kavan must be ten or so. He grins toothily as the three of them approach the thrones and bow.

The King’s expression is much warmer now. “Queen Damyanti. It has been too long. I trust Khurjan is doing well?”

“Not quite as well as Astoria, perhaps,” she replies, and it’s teasing, no sharpness to it. “This ball is absolutely lovely. Princess Angelica, you look so beautiful. Just like your mother. I was so sorry to hear of her passing.”

Ciara’s eyes go soft. “Thank you, Queen Damyanti,” she nods back. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“You as well. It’s a shame your sister couldn’t make it, but hopefully we’ll all gather again soon.” She gives a small, departing nod and joins the rest of the nobles, Aadhya giving them a bright-eyed smile and Kavan waving enthusiastically as they follow her. Ciara laughs. 

“And finally...King Jesper of Vysalt!”

Arc is confused for a moment; he wonders if he had remembered the name of Vysalt’s king wrong. Then a young man with a head of dark curls and a smattering of freckles against tawny brown skin enters, his crown just slightly crooked. His eyes are wide and dark, and a jagged, white scar cuts across his cheekbone. He can’t be much older than they are.

“He’s the king?” Arc whispers to Ciara under his breath as Jesper makes his way over to them. “How old is he?”

Her expression twists a little in sympathy. “Seventeen. He wasn’t supposed to inherit the throne so soon. His parents were killed when Ryker’s army took over his kingdom.”

Arc isn’t sure what to say to that. He knows what it’s like to lose everything to Ryker—he can picture the flames every time he shuts his eyes. But he hadn’t known about Vysalt or the fate of its royals. They had been close allies with Seagate at one point, one of the only other kingdoms without much wealth, and their king and queen had been known for their generosity. 

Somehow Arc had thought the damage had been done to Seagate alone, but now he wonders how the other kingdoms fared, if they suffered just as much. If any of them came out as unscathed as Astoria did.

“Your Majesties,” Jesper says as he bows, and there’s a note of pity in the King’s expression as he returns the gesture. Arc can only imagine how he feels about someone so close to his daughter’s age having to run a kingdom on his own. 

“King Jesper. How are you doing?” 

It’s a more personal question than he had asked the other royals, Arc notes. Jesper smiles easily; it’s soft, highlights his deep dimples and makes his dark eyes glimmer. “Well, thank you. Vysalt is recovering with time. As am I,” he adds, voice quieting for a moment.

The King nods back. “That’s good to hear. Let us know if there’s anything Astoria can do to help.”

Something flickers in Jesper’s expression, hard to read and gone so quickly that Arc wonders if he imagined it. The young king bows again before moving to join the others, but not before he catches Arc’s eye and smiles warmly. It surprises him—the other royals had hardly given him a second glance—but he returns it with one of his own. Beside him, Ciara lifts an eyebrow, her expression a mixture of amusement and something else he can’t place. 

“What?” he asks quietly, and she shakes her head, glancing away. 

“Nothing.”

He wants to pry, but the King is clearing his throat, getting ready to address the room. The chatter dies down as all eyes turn to him.

“My fellow Astorians,” he says in his deep, booming voice, sounding more formal than Arc has ever heard him, “and my guests from our neighboring kingdoms...I am honored to welcome you to our castle, and so pleased that we could all be in attendance tonight.”

Not all of us, Arc thinks, but no word of Seagate comes up. 

The King continues, “For decades, our kingdoms have been isolated and divided by Ryker’s armies. We have long suffered under his forces, but his threat is gone for good. Thus, tonight is more than a council; it is a symbol of our victory, a symbol of our unity as we move forward and rebuild. So enjoy yourselves! After all, we have so much to celebrate!”

To Arc, the sentiment feels hollow. He got his revenge, and of course he’s glad that Ryker can’t hurt anyone else, but it doesn’t change the fact that Seagate is in ruins. It feels suddenly difficult to celebrate with the weight of his village’s absence lingering in the air around him. The rest of the partygoers don’t seem to share his hesitance, though; the room breaks into applause and cheers, several of the guests raising their goblets jovially. 

Ciara gives him a subtle nudge, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Now we get to mingle,” she grins, leading him off the throne platform and towards the crowd. 

He follows dutifully as she heads toward the table where the other kingdoms’ royals have gathered, Astoria’s king staying behind to greet the other royals. Queen Damyanti is in conversation with King Hugo and Queen Luciana, but she doesn’t seem entirely pleased about it, and Jesper and Kavan are laughing at something Aadhya has said. Isaac hovers next to them, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. He has his father’s golden hair and clear blue eyes, but the frown on his face is entirely his mother’s.

It disappears, though, the moment he sees Ciara approaching them. “Princess Angelica,” he greets her, with a little too much enthusiasm for Arc’s liking, “I’m so honored to finally meet you. You’re even more radiant in person.” Before she can say anything, he takes her hand and kisses it swiftly. Arc narrows his eyes.

Ciara gives a forced-sounding chuckle and curtseys, pulling her hand back. “Thank you, Prince Isaac. I’m glad you could make it. Allow me to introduce Sir Arc, my guard and escort for the night.”

Arc bows—and if he never has to bow to another pompous royal again, he thinks, it’ll be too soon—and Isaac offers him a dismissive sort of half-smile. Any further interaction they would’ve had then is thankfully avoided by the other royals noticing Ciara’s arrival.

“Hi, Princess Angelica!” Aadhya says brightly, with a neat little dip of a curtsey, “I’m Aadhya.” When Ciara and Arc begin to return the gesture, she waves her hand with a tiny scoff. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. Formalities. Just come sit.” She returns to her chair and pats the seat next to her, and Arc decides right there that he likes her.

Ciara takes the offered chair, and Arc takes the only other open spot, in between her and King Jesper. As Ciara launches into conversation with Aadhya, Jesper turns to him. 

“Hi,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m Jesper.”

Arc bites back a laugh at the unnecessary introduction. “I know who you are, Your Highness,” he replies lightly.

“I know. I was just trying to give you an opening to tell me who you are.”

Oh. That’s unexpected. There’s no prerogative behind his words, no assertion; Jesper’s grin is almost bashful, his voice easy and bright. He doesn’t sound like a king, just a seventeen-year-old boy trying to flirt. Arc can’t help but return his smile.

“I’m Arc,” he says. “Normally I’m a student at Knight School, but I’m the princess’s guard and escort for the night.” 

“Wait,” Aadhya pauses her conversation with Ciara to lean over and look at him, “You’re the Arc who defeated Ryker?” 

“I helped,” Arc says with a shrug, and the princess’s eyes go wide. She turns to Ciara.

“Were you there too?”

“I was—” Ciara pauses for a moment, “hiding. I was hiding. Arc got me to safety.” 

He grins a little at her, tongue between his teeth, knowing it must be killing her to hide what she was actually doing. She narrows her eyes and kicks his leg under the table in response, a silent shut up. He lifts his eyebrows, like, I didn’t say anything, and she rolls her eyes in an entirely non-subtle manner. 

Across the table, Queen Damyanti is watching their exchange with a raised eyebrow, Arc notices belatedly. She has a mildly amused look on her face, but doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, she states, “Battling Ryker face-to-face must have been quite the experience.” 

“What was it like?” Prince Kavan asks eagerly from beside his sister.

Aadhya elbows him. “Kavan,” she hisses, but Arc just grins.

“No worries. It was…” he trails, trying to think of what to say and suddenly aware that all the royals’ eyes are on him. He shifts in his seat. “It was scary, obviously. He had the Armor of Astoria, and a whole army with him, and most of the Astorian knights under his spell. But, y’know. We Knight School students are pretty formidable. We all took him on together. Wouldn’t have been able to do it otherwise. I wasn’t half as scared as I would’ve been without my squadmates watching my back.”

He glances at Ciara, who smiles softly and nudges his foot, gentler this time. Jesper has that same unreadable look on his face and Aadhya has her chin propped in her hand, her expression amazed, but Queen Luciana gives a snide sort of scoff. 

“It’s a wonder it took so long to defeat him, then, if a group of students cut him down so easily,” she says. “Perhaps Ryker was never as great a threat as we all made him out to be.”

There’s a cut of silence across the table in which Jesper visibly stiffens. “With all due respect, Queen Luciana, Ryker’s attacks were devastating. Or have you forgotten what happened to my parents?” he demands, without any respect at all. His eyes are blazing. 

“I’m merely pointing out that the only real damage done was to the less...fortified kingdoms,” she sniffs. “Ryker only breached Catalias’s walls once, and he was driven out rather quickly.”

“Well, not every kingdom has Catalias’s resources.” Ciara sounds like she’s choosing her words carefully, frustration masked well behind them.

King Hugo gives a huff of a laugh; his blue eyes are cold. “My dear princess, you have no cause for indignation. Astoria lost the least to Ryker, what with your,” he waves a hand, “magic bubble.”

Ciara opens her mouth but falters, brow furrowed, and across the table, Queen Damyanti speaks up. “Nevertheless, Ryker was still a formidable enemy to all of us. We were only prepared for his attacks because he targeted Seagate and Vysalt first. And Seagate’s destruction is a clear example of his power.”

“Oh, even you can’t argue that Seagate was rotting long before Ryker got to it, Damyanti,” Hugo replies swiftly, and Arc’s breath catches in his throat. Queen Damyanti shrugs in agreement, her expression passive; Arc almost stands up, but Ciara’s hand on his leg underneath the table stops him. 

“Don’t,” she hisses, just barely loud enough for him to hear, “Let me handle this.”

Though as it turns out, she doesn’t have to. Before she has a chance to speak, Jesper is already bristling, his voice sharp: “As if Seagate’s corruption justifies the destruction of its people?”

“It’s thieves and criminals, you mean?” Isaac scoffs. “Seagate was a wasteland. The kingdoms are better off.”

The words ring in Arc’s ears, alongside the pounding of his blood. They sound painfully similar to what Ryker had said to him on the mountain—rats and thieves, I did the five kingdoms a favor—and he thinks fleetingly that he’s going to be sick. He’s always known that Seagate was looked down on by the other kingdoms, but hearing them say so casually that what happened, the flames and the destruction and all of the death, was deserved—

“The people were only thieves and criminals because Catalias took advantage of them,” Jesper argues. “I hope I don’t have to remind you that it was your government that poured money into the gangs of Seagate for their own profit and allowed them to stage a coup in the first place.”

The words are deadly and cold, but Arc feels a flash of admiration for Jesper; the king has no obligations towards Seagate, and yet defends it like his own. King Hugo’s gaze hardens. “You’re blaming Catalias for Seagate’s problems?” he says with a derisive laugh. “If anything, Ryker’s attacks only revealed that Seagate was a kingdom full of people that weren’t worth saving.”

“That’s enough,” Ciara says abruptly. Her hand tightens on Arc’s leg, and he can no longer tell if he’s the one trembling or if she is. There’s this burning fire behind her eyes; she looks, Arc thinks briefly, the same way she does in battle. “What happened to Seagate was a devastating tragedy, and I won’t let you treat it as otherwise. Those who disagree aren’t welcome here.”

It’s a weighted statement, one she doesn’t entirely have the formal authority to make, but no one dares to contest it. A heavy silence settles over all of them. Arc doesn’t know how long he can sit there with all the heat under his skin; he doesn’t remember when his hand found the hilt of his sword, only that he’s gripping it tight enough that the leather bites into his palm. He wants to stand up and tell them that none of them would be here if it weren’t for him, a thief from Seagate. In truth, the only thing holding him back is Ciara. In a battle between her steady hand and the storm in his chest, she wins without even trying.

He doesn’t say anything or look at her, but her gaze flits to him for a moment and she just knows, standing up. Before she even opens her mouth, Isaac is on his feet too. “Going so soon?” he asks. “Would you care to dance, Princess?”

She looks at him coolly for a moment. “I would, actually.” And then, she turns to Arc, offering him her hand, “Sir Arc, dance with me?”

Arc blinks up at her and takes it as he stands. “Absolutely, Princess,” he says, letting her lead him away from the table and glancing back only long enough to catch the dumbfounded expression on Isaac’s face.

[silentdescant]

I posted 25,215 times in 2021

97 posts created (0%)

25118 posts reblogged (100%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 258.9 posts.

I added 12,334 tags in 2021

#art - 2620 posts

#dan howell - 2389 posts

#phil lester - 1887 posts

#captive prince - 1827 posts

#stiles stilinski - 1326 posts

#derek hale - 926 posts

#dog - 535 posts

#incorrect quotes - 296 posts

#dylan o’brien - 267 posts

#tyler hoechlin - 261 posts

Longest Tag: 49 characters

#65 hits/7 kudos for a fic that was like 600 words

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

For @phandomreversebang:

Artist: @sevensforasecret

check out the art that inspired the fic here!

Author: @silentdescant Beta: @stefycubi94

something so magic about you

Summary: Under the full moon isn’t the only time Dan and Phil do business in the forest, but it is certainly the time of month they do the most business. Phil thinks it’s because that’s when all of the supernaturally-inclined creatures come out to play, but Dan’s cynicism bleeds through whenever he argues that it’s just because the full moon “seems witchy” and that it’s akin to a tourist trap. Phil rolls his eyes, every time.

or: Dan believes that magic exists; he sees evidence of it every day with Phil. He just doesn't believe he has any magic of his own.

Rating: Teen

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Established Relationship, Self Confidence Issues, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Self-Discovery, Magic-Users, shopkeepers

Word count: 4900

34 notes • Posted 2021-08-24 15:37:17 GMT

#4

I just gotta say, the way Dan has been SO INTENTIONAL about including asexuality whenever he talks about sexuality, like even before BIG, and of course in that video, and now continuing in this one, is very very nice and I hope he knows how appreciated it is. ty for being cool and mentioning it to him too, asexual Dylan from the video. it's just so good that it's not an afterthought, it's not ignored, it's actually something Dan mentions and talks about deliberately, habitually. I love it.

35 notes • Posted 2021-06-25 23:30:16 GMT

#3

Title: Untangled

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairings: Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Background Allison Argent/Scott McCall

Tags: Human AU, Dom/sub, Sadism/Masochism, Kink Exploration, Loss of Virginity, Rope Bondage, Coming of Age, Introspection [see AO3 for full list of tags]

Summary: Before heading to college, Stiles gets a summer job as a deckhand on the Hale family yacht, and he has a burning desire to embrace his new adulthood and lose his virginity. He’s disappointed to find that the two most attractive and unattached men on the yacht, Captain Chris Argent and rich lawyer Peter Hale, are already in a secret relationship with each other, and he doesn’t want to come between them. Luckily for him, they’re more than happy to have Stiles between them, and they introduce him to their kinky dynamic and invite him to explore his own sexual interests with them.

Art by: @tarvera

Start reading here!

I talked a bit about the journey of this fic behind the cut. :)

When I Started:June 2018

How I Lost My Shit: This is the longest thing I’ve attempted to write in years. I plotted out so much and had so many ideas that I think I got overwhelmed by the prospect of it. I’ve attempted to write a kinky yacht romance in almost every fandom I’ve been in, and it’s always petered out, and this one was just the same. Because I don't post WIPs, I didn't get the energizing feedback from an audience to keep me motivated, and I also got overwhelmed by the amount of sex scenes I was committing to. I lost the confidence to get them done and write kink in an interesting way, so I let this fic sit half-written, with no sex scenes, for years, because I was too scared of it.

How I Finished My Shit: I’ve never done WIP Big Bang before, but when I saw the promo posts going around tumblr, I thought it sounded like an excellent way to motivate myself to finish, as I always love fandom events that get me to stick to a deadline and hold me accountable. I looked at my outline with fresh eyes and decided to narrow the scope; I didn’t need to tell an epic story involving a sprawling cast and a long, convoluted timeline; I just wanted to tell the story of this one trip, and this one relationship. I have more people around me now to keep me motivated and ask me about my progress, even when I'm sure I was being annoying by constantly talking about this fic, and I’ve been trying to reclaim my lost confidence with writing kink. I’m getting there.

It's incredibly satisfying to have this fic completed, even before I finished editing; just having those scenes on the page, not hanging over my head anymore, was like breathing a huge sigh of relief. I really hope you enjoy this story that’s been in my head for years. It's far past time for it to be shared.

This fic will be 8 chapters, and I will post one per day for the next week.

See the full post

36 notes • Posted 2021-09-01 15:06:06 GMT

#2

welcome to the show

2.5k, damen/laurent, pop star au, mild dubcon

It's the first day of tour and Laurent DeVere wants to hook up with him. It's a pretty good first day.

I can't stop thinking about this au. There will probably be more one-shots in this universe in the future.

49 notes • Posted 2021-03-03 01:00:59 GMT

#1

this one has been languishing for a while so i slapped some stripes on the shirt and i'm calling it good enough. need some more pretty black&white pics of dan *___*

i'm still very new at digital art but it's quite fun and certainly much less messy than irl painting. i'm excited about practicing more and trying out some new techniques.

167 notes • Posted 2021-07-27 20:59:32 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[writer-akihiko]

Chapter 4 - Confession [STARISH]

Chapter 5 →

Otoya Ittoki

There was no way he could confess his feelings to you like a regular high school romance.

One realistic reason was you not being there. You currently are doing a short tour in the northern regions.

Otoya's excuse was he was afraid. He was self-conscious to the extent he would compare himself to his bandmates.

His thoughts would turn slightly dark. He would be reminded of you hanging out with the other members and his slight jealousy.

Since he couldn't talk to you personally, Tokiya gave the idea of video calling. Otoya finally gathered up his courage and asked to call you.

"Hello Otoya-san..." You greeted. Your appearance took his breath away. You weren't exactly in a formal manner; you had a sweater and messy hairstyle going on. Your casual look had Otoya blushing.

"Otoya-san?"

"A-Ah... Hello YN-san..." He quickly covered up his redness by shifting his headphones. "How's your tour going?"

You sighed. "It's exhausting, but it's going well. Tomorrow is the last day, which I'm glad."

Otoya couldn't hold it in anymore. "That's not why I called you."

"W-What other reason would you have?" You were surprised at his forwardness.

"I... To put it simply... I like you YN-san. I... I liked you since our first interaction! Actually, I might've liked you since before!" He stopped himself. "I know I'm younger than you... You have a proper career and I'm just an idol who hasn't made it yet... But I want you to take my feelings seriously! I really want you to consider them and give me a proper answer."

You stared into the camera, completely red. No one had ever confessed to you so... passionately.

"O-Otoya-san, I need t-time to think about my proper replyー"

Beep

Call Ended

How was the quality ofー

Otoya exited the app. You had ended the call on your own. He buried his face into his mattress. Your blushing face was too cute.

You screamed into your blanket. "Why did I end that call?! I'm such an idiot..."

Masato Hijirikawa

For showing excellent hospitality ー in spite of your spicy prank ー ST☆RISH invited you and a few of your other friends to visit the music campus of Saotome.

However, the members of ST☆RISH had another motive. They wanted to give Masato a chance to confess.

Masato, in turn became your guide as you were his. He led your around, showing you the classrooms, performance halls and studios.

"It's much quainter than the sports campus..." You commented, snickering at the end. Even you had to admit, you were one who would not sit still and be pretty.

Masato nodded in agreement. "I mostly spend my time in ST☆RISH's practice room. It's where I create my compositions."

"You write your own pieces?! I wanna see~" You said.

Masato became a little flustered. "It's nothing impressive. Most students have to acquire the skill some point in their course."

"You saw me play basketball. Return the favour and let me see you play," You persuaded. He finally gave in and led you to the practice room.

He played a couple of ST☆RISH's songs for you.

You clapped in applause. "You composed that? That's amazing!"

He offered to play an unfinished piece under editing. You had the same enthusiasm and complimented his skill.

"I haven't been able to write new pieces lately..." He confessed.

"Why is that?" You asked. You thought what he wrote was beautiful. "You have everything you need," You said. "Records, atmosphere, inspiration fromー"

"A muse. I'm missing a muse," He said.

"Like those naked modeー"

"No!" He cried out. "I mean you! I adore you! I like you and I can't write anything without it being about you!"

You stuttered for a moment. "W-What?"

"I..."

You stopped him. "I'm sorry. It's just no one's ever confessed so... passionately towards me. About my reply... I need time Masato. Please..."

He nodded, hanging his head in shame. You shut the door behind you.

Natsuki Shinomiya

He came moments before closing time and ordered his favourite parfait. It was slightly awkward, him snacking at the window seat while you wipe the counters alone. Your uncle had gone out for mahjong night with a couple of his friends, so you were alone at the shop.

Natsuki didn't bother making small talk, which concerned you. Maybe he's having a bad day...

You decided to leave Natsuki by himself since he didn't look like he wanted to speak to you. You glanced over your shoulder to check up on him. Your eyes meet.

His eyes simply bore into yours, as if he were staring at you this whole time...

You quickly turned away, face all red. What are you doing YN? You're an old woman and he's in school...

Clink!

You fully turned your body to Natsuki. He was done with his parfait. You sauntered over and lifted the serving cup. Before you could turn away, Natsuki held your wrist in his hand.

"(Y/N)-senpai... Will you go out with me?" He asked, innocently.

You paused to process the whole sentence. "Natsuki-san... please don't joke with me," You begged, your face steaming red.

"Why would I lie to the woman I love?"

You couldn't take it anymore. You dragged Natsuki out the door and shut it in front of his face. "I'm sorry Natsuki-san. I need to think about this and give you a proper reply. Thanks for coming..."

He smiled through the door. "Make two Piyo Pies for us to share tomorrow! Sayonara!"

You pressed your forehead on the door. He really is a goof... A lovable goof...

Ren Jinguji

Why oh why did he forget?

Out of everything in his schedule, it had to be a photoshoot.

Haruka didn't attend the photoshoot to escort you to the train station. You were leaving.

And he forgot.

"Ren?" Tokiya called out.

Ren grabbed Tokiya by the shoulders. "I need to get out of here. I need to confess to her."

Tokiya calmed the male down, reassuring him. Cecil ran up to the pair.

"I called Haru-chan. She said if you miss your chance at the train station, you can try Sapporo Airport," He said.

Ren was confused. "You planned this?"

"Masato did," Tokiya confirmed. "Ringo's outside with his car. Go get her."

"Thank you, guys."

With no time to waste, Ren scrambled around the studio and sprinted out of the building. Ringo and Hyuga waved to Ren from the car. They instantly sped away to the train station.

"YN!" Ren yelled out to you. You had your suitcase clutched by your hands, patiently waiting for the train.

"Jinguji-san... What are you doing here?" You said, astonished by his appearance.

"I couldn't let you leave without telling you..." Ren gasped. He was panting from running to you.

PHWEET!

"Jinguji-san, I appreciate that you came here to see me, but I have to go," You said, moving away from him.

"Wait!"

You put your suitcase and luggage in the train. You leaned out the sides of the entrance to hear what he had to say.

"YN!"

The train squeaked against the tracks. It shifted.

"I LOVE YOU!"

She was gone.

Cecil Aijima

You had asked to practice dancing with Cecil again. Cecil was more than willing.

He had a plan. And he had to execute it perfectly.

You two met up at ST☆RISH's dance room. Cecil set up the music and you two got lost in the music.

You twirled around with Cecil and giggled along when he would freestyle. He smiled, taking in your beauty.

When the song came to an end, Cecil lifted you up and twirled you around.

"I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!"

His outburst snapped you back into reality.

"Cecil! Cecil!" You called out for him to let you go. He was concerned at your cry.

"What's wrong?"

"Were you serious?"

He was smiling from ear to ear. "Of course I was! You just have to confess to me, back right?"

You were too overwhelmed and got away from him. You took your things and exited the room, which confused him.

Syo Kurusu

He had told you to wait under tree. He didn't say anything about why he wanted you wait there.

You awaited under the tree, fiddling with the sleeves of your hakama. "Where is he?" You muttered.

"Miko YN!" Syo ran up to you. "So sorry I'm late..."

"Ah... It's alright. Why did you call me here?" You asked, leaning against tree.

Syo froze on the spot. "Well... I..."

"What is it?"

"I..."

"Kurusu, just spit it out. I won't say anything."

"Don't!" He blurted out. "I need you to say something. I need a reply from you..."

"What is it that you need so desperately need me to reply to? A confession? (1)" You said, puzzled.

"Yes. I love you, Miko YN. I want to go out with you," He said.

"WHAT?"

"THE HOLY MAIDEN RECEIVES A CONFESSION!"

"SHE'S TOO PURE!"

You had to be honest, you loved Syo's love confession. Stupid shrine guards... running your dream confession...

Tokiya Ichinose

He decided the one way to win your heart was the old-fashioned way. A love letter.

So far, he'd been getting information from Haruka and other friends you hung around. Tomochika offered to plant the letter in your notebook. He just had to pray for the best.

You had been getting hints from Haruka and Tomochika. Especially questions about dating and relationships.

"Okay you two," You called out. "What's going on? You keep asking me about dating when half the guys in the school aren't even allowed to date."

Tomochika giggled a little. "Come on, YN. You gotta hope for a little!"

"I'll consider if I get any confessions," You said. "But if I don't consider them, I would turn them down in person. It feels cruel to tell them by message."

By the evening, when you were making a new chapter for your manga, something slipped out of your writing book.

A... letter? A love letter. You were quite excited, immediately opening the letter.

My Writer,

I am not the greatest with the pen, but please bear whatever criticism you have with my words.

The one reason why I wrote this is to confess my suppressed feelings for you. I wanted to say that I simply adore you, not as a fan, but much more. I love you as a person, not only the author behind the words.

I love you. And if you consider me as a romantic partner, I would like to hear it with my own ears. If you wish to accept my confession, please come to Studio 407 on Friday after classes. 

Yours,

Tokiya

Chapter 5 →