#lc’s fics

[mydictionary-yume]

Drabblecember Day 5: Sharing Stories

Word count: 325

Taglist: @make-my-dream, @thechavanator

“What are all those?” Lu asked, eyeing the stack of books Sakuya had brought back with him to her place.

“We’re doing a new show soon, so I wanted to do some role study! Apparently, it’s gonna be based on a European Christmas, so I wanna be sure I get everything right,” he replied cheerfully, taking a seat on the couch.

“Cool! You mind if I hang out here while you do?”

“Of course not, c’mere.”

At his request, Lu joined him on the couch, lying her head in his lap as he cracked open one of the books, beginning to read aloud.

His tone was even and relaxed, yet at the same time light and energetic. He kept his voice low, making sure only Lu could hear his murmurs of random facts, stories, and his own little interjections about what he thought was interesting or noteworthy.

As he spoke, Sakuya lazily caressed Lu’s hair, weaving his fingers through her thick tresses as he scratched here and carded there, finding himself unable to let go. It was a rare opportunity, and who was he to not take advantage of it? It didn’t matter that it may have been absent-mindedly, it was a nice feeling to let their roles switch once in a while, to give her some comfort after the stress he knew she was struggling with.

It was the perfect remedy for the exhaustion she felt, Lu decided, closing her eyes as she savored the moment, every bit of it feeling just right, like she was home. Before she knew it, her breathing slowed, growing deeper and slipping further and further from consciousness with each one.

“Lu?”

It was too late. She was far gone in the realm of sleep, finally allowing herself to rest. Sakuya smiled, running his fingers through her hair one last time before leaning down to place a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Good night, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[the-newlymadeweeb]

I Gotcha.

Luke Castellan x daughter of Apollo!reader

Description: three times you promised Luke that you got him. The two times he struggled to believe and finally when he did.

A/N: the gif is not mine, credits to the owner.

************************************************************

The days spent at camp immediately after his failed quest were arguably the worst of Luke's entire life.

He had to drag himself back home with a burnt chunk of an apple, a dragon tooth and half his face destroyed.

You had nursed him back to health. Spending three days straight in the infirmary. The solo quest was a bad idea and you had known it. Luke had gone alone in some sort of attempt to prove himself, seeking glory but now this entire thing had backfired and you couldn't help but worry.

When he awoke he had stared in mute horror at the mirror you held up to his face.

"I tried to minimise the scarring as much as I could, Luke. I couldn't remove it entirely but with the correct balm and scar creams it'll fade," you had explained.

Luke knew you were the best the camp infirmary had but he couldn't explain the rage that boiled within him. This fruitless quest, with its dumb replication to Heracles' and his quest all for the sake of earning his father's attention had permanently marred him.

Physical proof of his father's neglect right there for everyone to witness.

And he would have to carry this stupid scar for the rest of his life.

"Luke?"

His gaze snapped to meet yours, softening slightly, as you placed the mirror facedown on his bedside table.

"Yeah?"

He didn't want to see sympathy in your eyes, no doubt too many campers will be looking upon him like he was a pitiful kicked dog, nor did he want to see disappointment; he wasn't quite sure how he'd stomach that.

But your face held neither of those emotions, instead a strong conviction resided in the lines of your face, lines that you were too young to have, that marked the effects of stress no adolescent should feel.

"I'm gonna take care of you Luke, okay?" You reached out and cupped his uninjured cheek, "I gotcha. I always gotcha."

And wasn't that something.

He reached out cupping your face in his hands, this was his whole world.

"Okay baby; yeah, please."

****************************

Luke had miscalculated. He'd failed to retain the master bolt and the helm of darkness.

Now, he was being punished. Severely. And he hated it but he deserved it. He'd let Kronos down, he needed to learn his lesson so he never makes the same mistake.

The nightmares cut too much into reality though sometimes. His entire body lit aflame but it always got so much worse when he was forced to face a scenario where he had to cut you up so that your pieces would replace the Titan.

He never failed this test, but it always took the most out of him. Even if you always understood his anger, he wasn't sure you'd understand his methods; and at the crack of every dawn, he'd escape his cabin and run to the lake where he knew you'd always be. Like clockwork, watching the sun rise.

This time his skin buzzed with the phantom recollection of his nightmares, he had to scrub at his eyes to clear his vision a few times, mistaking the blood on his hands to be real in his fatigued state.

You sat on the deck, eyes fixed on the changing colours of the sky. He could hear your voice humming a soft nameless tune. This was your ritual, your futile attempts at interactions with your father as he burst across the heavenly dome on his sun chariot.

Nonetheless, Luke always enjoyed the sound of your voice. He'd appreciate it if Apollo never would.

You'd sense his presence as you always did in the early hours and you'd beckon him towards you.

Sitting by your side felt right, amidst all the tension he'd been under. The weight of all his plans. Your song was familiar, the heat and strength of your figure a comfort.

"Nightmares again?" You asked, knowing the answer regardless.

He'd nod.

There were a few truths he was allowed to tell you. Sometimes if he said it with enough of himself, he could fool himself to believe that all you knew weren't mainly lies.

"Come here."

And you'd guide his head to you lap, gentle– loving, like the first rays of the sun. You would card your fingers through his curls, and every now and then lightly ghost your fingertips over the scar on his face.

On occasion, Luke would dream that you were healing him, erasing his scars, erasing his pains.

"I gotcha Luke," you'd murmur, "I always gotcha."

Some mornings he'd fall into a dreamless sleep.

************************

"I gotcha baby," oh he's missed that voice, "I always gotcha, Luke." It's been too long. Days, weeks, months. Years.

You were crying.

Percy and Annabeth were crying too but–

You're crying.

Don't cry.

He's really tired, and it's getting difficult to take a breath. He figures this is the feeling of death and he's trying to not be afraid.

You reach for him, and he forces himself to open his eyes and look at you.

It's not so bad. Your face has always been what he'd like to see last. It's just–

There's so much to say. So many things he has to tell you, to apologise for, to confess, to love and there's no time.

You're so beautiful.

Even covered in soot and monster dust and blood.

Your hands cup his face, fingers instinctively brushing his brows and scar. You keep mumbling small comforts, little assurances. But you don't promise life, because that wouldn't be true and while Luke has been a deceitful liar, you have never been one yourself and you won't lie to him even now.

But you promise that you got him. And he believes you.

"I know baby," He huffs and tries to say, "but now...it's time– time to let me go."

It's a struggle. His vision is blurry, he's really tired.

So he focuses on the feel of you instead, letting his eyes close. This is just like falling asleep.

*****************************************************************************

[sanakiras]

TREAT YOU BETTER

PAIRING — lee chan x fem!reader

WORD COUNT — 3.7k

SYNOPSIS — your boyfriend of five months has been treating you like hell, and one of your closest friends, lee chan, refuses to let it go on any longer, taking matters into his own hands.

TAGS — college au, best friends to lovers, cheating, explicit sexual content, mutual pining, mentions of reader struggling with low self-esteem, cheesy stuff, yes i did come up with this after accidentally listening to treat you better by shawn mendes, this didn’t turn out as good i hoped it would but oh well!

NOTE — first fic here. he looks so good in the wait m/v so i wanted to write something for him :D my beloved

the slam of the door behind you rings through your ears. you try to wipe your cheeks dry, hoping you don’t look like the tearful mess you are.

your voice feels raw from yelling for the past hour or so. it’s been going like this for the past two months at least twice a week, and you’re exhausted because of it.

as the rain pours, you notice the familiar car driving towards you, bright lights feeling heavy on your eyes. you open the door without hesitation to let yourself sink into the passenger’s seat, taking a few deep breaths, all without looking at the driver.

but the quiet sobs escaping you are enough to give it away.

chan has his one arm leaning on top of the steering wheel, the other gently touching your shoulder to make you look at him, but you refuse.

“i’m fine,” you stutter out, sniffing from the cold, “really.”

of course you’re not fine. both of you are more than aware of the toxicity of the situation. you getting into arguments with your boyfriend several times a week, resulting in you calling chan and staying over at his apartment for a night, only to hear you make it up to the guy the next day when you weren’t even in the wrong to begin with.

“we have a different definition of that, then.”

“it was just an argument. we’ll work it out in a couple hours.”

“it’s not normal.” he says, trying to get it through your thick skull without raising his voice. “it’s not normal, baby.”

you sniff, trying to somehow get rid of the pain beating against your forehead. “he can be so mean, and then… then he’s so sweet again.”

chan wants to rip his hair out of his head. five fucking months of this have passed at this point, and he doesn’t know how much more of it he can take. he’s not sure how to handle the situation the right way, either.

he’s been in love with you for years. years. since sophomore year in high school. it was never his intention to fall in love with you, nor did he think he would, but he did, and god did he fall hard. embarrassingly hard.

nevertheless, he was always too afraid to make a move. too afraid that you’d reject him and he’d be out of your life forever like he was never there in the first place.

but he’s grown up now. third year of university, twenty-two years old, longer hair, a leather jacket and a solid bunch of experiences. some great, some he’d rather forget.

and so five months ago, he’d finally mustered the courage. he was finally going to own up to his feelings and tell you the truth.

only for you to excitedly come up to him, telling him you’re seeing this guy. and it made his heart sink in his chest, but he pushed his feelings to the side for your happiness.

or so he tried.

your boyfriend treats you like shit. he was sweet in the beginning — they always are.

then the cracks in the façade started to show.

it’s not that you don’t see it. you do — but it’s difficult to leave when someone knows just how to keep you where they want you. every time you tell yourself you’re gonna break up with him, he sweet-talks you and says things can be fixed, and that going through a rough patch is normal.

but chan knows better.

he just needs you to know better as well.

it breaks his heart to see his favorite person let herself get hurt like this. he becomes a little more torn with every sob leaving your body, every tear spilling from your eyes.

he gently puts the buds of his fingertips on your chin and jaw, slowly turning your face to him so he can look you in the eye.

the tears are still quietly running down your cheeks, your face numb, now devoid of any emotion, ashamed to have him see you in this state.

“you’re killing yourself like this.” he whispers, voice laced with concern. “he’ll never make you happy.”

you sniff from your breakdown. “maybe it’s me. maybe i just need to stop giving him such a hard time—”

“don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

“please, chan, just… just go and get me somewhere else. all i need is some breathing space — please.” you beg him.

he wants to scream, wants to tell you to break up with him for good, wants to walk into that damn house and do it himself — but he can’t.

instead, he obliges, driving you to his place.

his cozy one-person apartment feels like the best place in the world to you — the one place where you can get away from everything else.

you watch chan as he locks the door behind him, then leaning against it for a moment as he watches you sit on the armrest of the soft chair. “you okay? want some tea?”

the corners of your lips curl up at the suggestion. he knows you awfully well. “that’d be great.”

his lashes flutter before he nods, kicking his shoes off by the door.

once he’s busy in the kitchen, you bite your lip as you recall the way he softly talked to you in the car, eyes trailing past the curves of his arms and the sharpness of his jawline.

he’s dated more than you have. not much in high school, but definitely during the past three years he’s spent at college. though it doesn’t surprise you. he has such warmth to him, with the beautifully infectious sound of his laughter, that big smile and some of the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen.

it wasn’t until recently you began to see him in a different light. whenever you saw him with a new girl, arm around her waist or over her shoulders, you secretly imagined yourself next to him more than once. you can’t believe you didn’t take notice of how handsome he was before.

but you’re too much of a coward to tread over that line of friendship, too much of a coward to see if maybe, just maybe, your feelings are requited.

“wanna stay here for a while?” he asks, hoping you’ll at least spend the night here before you go back to your boyfriend, as you’ve done countless times before.

“yeah. don’t feel like going back yet.” you smile, trying to somewhat make light of the situation.

“then don’t.”

you sigh at his response. “it’s not that easy.”

“why not?”

“because i don’t wanna throw something away the second things get hard.”

“there’s a difference between hard and unbearable. your case is the latter.”

feeling backed into a corner, even though he hardly means to do so, you turn the topic on him. “you’ve had some rough experiences with past girlfriends too and you stuck around.”

god. if only you knew he ended up leaving them because he never enjoyed being with them as much as he enjoyed being with you. “you’d be surprised.” he mutters under his breath, pouring two cups of tea, making yours exactly as he knows you like.

when you stay quiet, he tries to think of a way to get it through your head that you need to break up with your resident ass of a boyfriend.

“can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

“what’s it going to take for you to leave him?”

the question makes you look up before using a tone that almost sounds like you’re scolding him. “chan.”

“i’m serious. he’s treating you like shit. you call me crying every week.”

“it’s just—”

“no, it’s not ‘just a tough time’. you know it isn’t.” he interrupts, jaw clenched tight but voice controlled. he will not yell at you like that piece of trash does. “he’s a controlling, manipulative asshole. it’s not gonna get better. if anything, he’ll just treat you worse in the future.”

“yeah, well, not all of us have people lined up.”

the words have left your mouth before you can comprehend it, leaving you to lower your head in regret. not that it’s any less true. to you, anyway.

“what, and i do?”

“don’t you?”

he’s not sure what baffles him more — you thinking that he’s got girls lined up to date him or you thinking that you don’t have anyone else out there that would be willing to date you.

“what’s this really about?” he sits down on the empty coffee table, facing you directly. “what does my dating life have to do with yours?”

“nothing — it doesn’t. i never said it did.”

“then why the comment about me having people lined up? which i don’t, by the way.”

the answer sits at the tip of your tongue, but you can’t bring yourself to say it without looking away from him. “maybe not. but at least you won’t end up alone. i can’t say the same for myself.”

and there it is. the sole reason you’re still with the guy. your crippling fear of ending up alone, your heavy insecurity that makes you believe no one could possibly want you.

the last thing he wants is for you to get hurt — but he’d rather have you suffer through your first heartbreak than end up with someone who walks all over you like a doormat.

“please don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but if you think that low of yourself, you’re a little stupid.”

the comment makes you snort. “well, it’s certainly fitting.”

he wipes some of your half-dried tears away, his one hand remaining to cup your cheek, an alarmingly intimate gesture.

“aside from the fact that there’s nothing wrong or shameful about ending up alone... i need you to know that you’re worth it. you’re gorgeous and intelligent and—” he halts for a moment, in a way confessing his love for you, not caring how cheesy it sounds, “—you deserve everything you want. ‘cause you’re one in a million.”

fuck, has he always looked at you that lovingly?

his words catch you off-guard for a moment before you press your lips together. “as much as i think it’s sweet of you to say those things, you’re only saying them ‘cause you’re my friend.” you interrupt him, having made up your mind.

after which chan shakes his head, gently twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. “i’m saying it because it’s true. any guy would be lucky to have you in his life.”

“i don’t think ‘lucky’ is the term my boyfriend would use.”

“yeah, ‘cause he’s a fucking dick.” he immediately comments, adding the next part with a softer tone. “if you were with me, i sure as shit wouldn’t be acting like that.”

that last sentence catches your attention, and chan realizes what he just said, suddenly very aware he’s treading on thin ice now.

but it had to come out one way or another.

though you seem to be going along with his words, not showing any signs of being uncomfortable with it. “and who’s to say you wouldn’t break my heart?”

he sees the intrigue on your face and decides to lean in closer. “if i broke your heart, i’d be breaking mine as well.”

“i’m not convinced.” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear, and chan feels his heartbeat quicken.

every rational thought going through his mind is thrown out of the window the moment he catches you staring at his lips. it’s enough for him to put his hand on your lower cheek and smash his lips against yours.

he kisses you like he always imagined he would. perhaps a little too enthusiastically, but he’s waited too long for this moment to care.

and you’re kissing him back.

you both get hot from adrenaline and arousal. his hands roam down your hips, but when you start pulling on the collar of his jacket, he finally has it in him to break the kiss.

“are you sure you want this? i don’t want you to feel pressured—”

“i’ve wanted this for so long, chan. take it off, please.”

maybe he should pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. you’re underneath him, lips swollen, gazing at him like he’s your whole world and more.

he leans down again to pick you up, ensuring you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist so he can carry you to his bedroom.

once he lays you down on the soft bed, you watch him take off his jacket and throw his shirt over his head, leaving him with his chest bare, elastic waistband of his underwear visible.

he’s a dancer in his spare time, but you know he’s been hitting the gym recently as well, and it’s paying off, noticing his bigger biceps and toned abs.

then he chuckles from the way you’re observing him, and that smile — that beautifully big smile is what you fell in love with.

one of many things, really.

you remove your basic long-sleeved shirt, exposing your skin before him, enjoying the way he’s looking at the black bra you’re wearing underneath.

you’re seated at the edge of the bed, at eye-level with his chest, which you kiss softly.

he follows your actions like a hawk, unable to keep his eyes off you. he proceeds to move your hair behind your shoulder, his right hand finding your jaw when he kisses you again, lips trailing down to your neck and collarbone.

his touches are slow and sensual. at the end of the day, it’s your first time together, and you both notice the pressure and tension that comes with it.

you’re both aching to touch each other more already, but it feels so much better like this.

he gently pushes you to lay on your back, hovering over you to kiss down your chest and stomach, smoothly pulling down your skirt before his fingers hook onto the fabric of your lace underwear.

“what’d you want me to do, pretty girl?” he asks while getting rid of your panties, looking you in the eye as he does it.

the nickname makes you shiver. “you can do anything you wanna do.”

“wanna eat you out. bet i’m better at it than that motherfucker.”

“not hard to beat when he never does it at all.” you mumble to yourself, but he hears it.

“are you kidding? has he ever even made you cum?”

you just give him a deadpan stare that has a hint of embarrassment to it, which is enough for him to know the answer.

just being aware of how bad that fucker treats you makes him want to prove to you that he can make you feel so, so much better. and that’s exactly what he’s gonna do.

he wastes no time, spreading your legs so his tongue can get to work. you shiver at the feeling of his mouth on you, biting your lower lip to not squeal already from sensitivity.

“no. none of that. i wanna be able to hear every sound you make.” he says after taking your hand away from your mouth. “you can pull on my hair if you like.”

“do you like that?”

“yeah, i enjoy a bit of pain.”

that makes you giggle a bit. “you masochist.”

to which he responds with a gentle pinch to your skin. “keep it in mind for next time, baby.”

fuck — you definitely will.

your hands run through his soft black hair. you’ve locked your legs behind his head, hips bucking up a little every time he hits a spot that feels good, his warm breath and wetness of his mouth on your pussy turning you on like crazy.

chan is pretty sure he’s descending into heaven when he hears you moan his name for the first time. he doesn’t know how many times he’s fucked his fist imagining that sound.

so he adds a finger to the warm and wet mess between your legs, sliding in easily, biting his own lip as he watches your reaction to it. you’ve got your head thrown back, one hand fisting the sheets, the other still holding his locks.

then he moves to a second, and not much later he’s got three of his fingers pumping in and out of you, arching them a little to find the right spot, rubbing and sucking on your clit.

“does that feel good?” he asks, just a bit out of breath, which is nothing compared to the writhing mess that’s you. he keeps messing with the pace, edging you a little every time, making you go crazy.

“please, channie, please let me cum—”

“i will if you answer me, baby.”

you whine, nodding at him desperately. “feels s’good, so fucking good.”

“want me to go faster?”

“please. god—need you inside me so bad.”

even he can resist so much. you’re so good for him, so he increases the pace of his fingers, relishing in the way you start squirming underneath him, trying to push him away and pull him closer all the same.

then you pull on his hair almost violently, making him moan against your pussy as you hit your first climax in a long time.

and he doesn’t stop yet — only once he sees you’ve regained focus does he pull his fingers out of you, sucking on them to savor the taste right before kissing you again, your trembling body aching for him.

he only breaks the kiss to reach for the drawer in his nightstand, grabbing a condom out of it, getting off of you to push off the last pieces of clothing still on him. the realization of the fact that your best friend is about to fuck you after god knows how long finally begins to dawn on you, and it makes your heart beat that much harder.

once he’s slipped the condom on, you move your hands to his neck and shoulders, biting your lip when you feel him push your legs behind his waist.

you gasp when he bottoms out of you for the first time. his head is buried in the crook of your neck as he finds his rhythm, sucking at your sensitive skin, not giving a damn whether he leaves marks on someone that’s technically not even his.

yet.

“do you remember that time we went to senior prom together?” he asks breathily, not slowing down even a little bit. “you were wearing that pretty blue dress. god, i wanted to take you home that night more than anything.”

you remember that. it was just before you two graduated high school together — he looked so dashing in his suit. you’d even imagined kissing him underneath the basketball bleachers like some cliche rom-com.

“so why didn’t you?”

“was too much of a pussy to do it.”

you bring yourself to chuckle inbetween your moans. “that’s a shame. i would’ve let you.”

just knowing that his feelings are reciprocated turns him on. he lifts his head up a little, kissing the front of your neck, your jaw, your cheeks — everything, only halting for a moment when he fucks you just a little faster, watching the way your eyes roll back from pleasure.

your hands run over his strong back as he pushes in and out of you at a steady pace, your lip nearly bleeding from how hard you’re biting it.

he hisses and relishes in the burning feeling of your nails digging into his shoulder blades.

“chan—god, harder, please—”

“i know, baby, i know, i got you.” he breathes out, changing up the position by hooking your legs over his shoulders.

it hits the exact right spot when he fucks you again, harder and deeper this time, your hands desperately clinging onto his skin, teeth sinking into your lower lip until they're nearly drawing blood.

beads of sweat roll down his muscular back. he feels you’re getting closer to hitting that release, so he moves one hand down to rub your clit again, aching to see you fall apart underneath him.

“fuck, ’s too much, channie—” you whine, throwing your head back in the pillow for a moment.

but he shakes his head, continuing, knowing you’re close. “you can do it, pretty girl. cum for me again. i wanna feel it.”

and he discovers that begging you works wonders, because it’s enough for you to come undone, clamping on his dick, making it feel so tight that he spills his own release into the condom mere seconds after.

with a layer of sweat on your foreheads, he feels how sensitive you are when he pulls out. he throws the condom in the trashcan, turning his face back to yours and kisses your lips more softly this time.

“how do you feel?”

“a little worn out.” you sigh, proceeding to show a smile. “but better.”

“good. how do you feel about taking a bath?”

“sounds nice.”

chan can’t help himself and leans in to kiss you again. he’s already getting awfully used to this, but one issue remains. “i wanna be with you. i meant everything i said tonight.”

the sentiment warms your heart. he’s always had that effect on you. “i know. i wanna be with you, too.”

he nods, happy with your words. “you go on ahead to the bathroom. i’ll clean things up here.”

“okay.” you tell him, pressing another kiss to his cheek before leaving the bedroom, feeling utterly lovesick.

he shares your feelings — it’s like he’s reliving that exciting feeling of seeing you the first few days after he realized he was in love with you.

there’s something that pulls him out of it, though. a certain vibrating sound. what is that? he thinks to himself.

and after looking around the room, he discovers it’s a phone receiving a call. your phone, to be exact, sitting in the back pocket of the jeans you discarded earlier.

the screen of your cellphone lights up, and he picks up the device, about to let you know someone’s calling — but his voice gets caught in his throat when he notices it’s the asshole who made you cry in the first place.

scoffing to himself, he taps the red button and declines the call.

thank you for reading. let me know if u enjoyed it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[lokicraft]

Self indulgent idea about task force 141 rescuing a wrongly-kidnapped scientist/researcher reader. Gender neutral reader, implied American reader implied violence and torture, implications about the reader looking young (I imagine the reader being between 20 and 30 years old). I see it as future tf141xreader, but feel free to imagine otherwise and/or take this idea and run with it as you please. MDNI.

————

Imagine you are a government researcher. Technically a government employee but you are pretty low on the ladder, just starting out at a research laboratory on a small military base. You are so excited to start working with your supervisor/PI, a very influential scientist who has their fingers in a lot of research pies (some more secret than others).

But you have nothing to do with the secret stuff. You’re more interested in environmental research (of which the military does have to pay at least a little bit of attention to, so you work with what you get).

You’re getting out of the lab late one evening, having to stay even after your PI left to clean glassware (your least favorite task). You lock the door to the research building and walk to your car, only to see someone else parked next to you. The hood of their car is open and they look distressed. You don’t recognize them but it’s not like you know everyone on base. So when they ask you for a jump start you agree and start rooting around your car to pop the hood. You just got your hand around that pesky lever when you feel a sharp pain in the back of your head and everything goes dark.

————

You wake up in a dingy concrete room with your arms and legs tied to an equally dingy chair. You are shocked, panicking and in pain, but through the ringing in your ears you hear shouting from outside the room.

“What do you mean that’s not Dr. Scaffer?” An angry accented voice shouts.

“It was bad intel!” Another voice insists, same accent as far as your fuzzy brain can register, “we did not get any physical description, only that they would be the last one out!”

“A head research scientist with top secret clearance won’t look like a kid who just got out of college!” You hear a muffled bang - your heart stops beating in your chest - but the voice continues, dismissive, “I have to do everything myself.”

He enters the room.

————

Two hours later, not that you can really keep track, you are left alone again. Significantly more injured from what you just went through (your brain cannot even ponder the word “torture” through the unceasing static of your thoughts), you realize that you are going to die. Whoever kidnapped you grabbed the wrong person, and unless they want to know about the water quality of the watershed around base you don’t have any information they want. You are no use as a hostage, and you are going to die. You can only hope it will be quick and painless—

You can’t breathe, you were never good at handling stress.

At least when you’re unconscious it doesn’t hurt anymore.

————

Recovering VIPs is well within their capabilities, Gaz thought to himself as he recounted the brief they were given a short two hours ago. But usually if it was a researcher they were rescuing then their area of expertise would be weapons technology, or infectious diseases, or something that’s not water chemistry. It’s not his job to judge, it’s his job to get you back home where you belong. However the judgmental voice in the back of his mind can’t help but kick in, remembering the profile photo they were provided of you.

“They’re quite a cutie, no?”

Gaz is knocked out of his thoughts when Soap catches up to him, both fully geared up and heading to airstrip. Wheels up is in 15 minutes, and Gaz is sure their Captain and Lieutenant  are already in the transport. While Ghost is probably just sitting and “brooding” as Gaz likes to call it, he gives Price a 50/50 on being on the phone with Laswell. Their Captain probably wants to know how a young researcher got kidnapped from an American military base only to end up as a hostage in Russia. Hell, Laswell probably wants to know that too.

“Time ta go save us a bonnie researcher!” Soap proclaims picking up the pace and rushing in front of Gaz. It’s obvious Johnny shares the same thoughts as Kyle when it comes to your appearance, only one is better at keeping those thoughts to themselves.

“Yeah let’s make sure we get them back alive” Gaz responds, his sharp mind working overtime to calculate how long your captors will keep you alive once realizing you are not a spring of top secret information nor a high profile bargaining chip.

“Of course we will mate,” Soap declares, his sober tone almost catching Gaz off guard, “with LT back on the roster we’re at full strength again, n’one left behind.”

Gaz agrees with the sentiment, and taps Soap on the chest lightly as they approach the transport.

“No one left behind”

————

Thanks so much for reading, this is my first time writing something like this so I’m still trying to get the character’s ‘voices’ right and all that. If you decide to build off this idea please tag me! I appreciate y’all 💚

[ariowl-arts]

"I would not dare leave you" 🩹🍃

Finally finished drawing this scene from @temps-lc's fic 'overexposure'. Do give it a read!!

[mykingdomforapen]

LC's Link Click fics that she holds close to her heart

So, during the SGDLR Gotcha for Gaza campaign that took place several months ago, I was so lucky to be gifted some INCREDIBLE fics. Like, INCREDIBLE. These generous writers took my silly little prompts and created masterpieces out of them and I want to shove them in the fandom's face and go LOOOK LOOOOOK they're just! So great! And I am on my hands and knees begging you to read and comment and kudos them because they deserve so much love.

Ling-jie by @bleppities

"One second, she's a sister without a brother, and the next, he's smiling at her through the lens, little fingers forming a V and reaching towards the sky." Or Qiao Ling has to make a difficult choice between the little brother forever gone, and the one left behind.

I reread this fic ENDLESSLY, especially when I need a good cry. Wowowow. This story is so moving, so tender in its raw and unflinching take on Qiao Ling's grief. This writer is so kind, so faithful, so loving of Qiao Ling and of her boys. It's so moving, and every time I think about it I get tight in the chest and throat. Oh, it is beautiful.

Porridge and Chicken Soup by kkomaism

Cheng Xiaoshi is sick. When he's sick, he's delirious, and when he's delirious, he thinks of his parents.

I am SUCH a sucker for sick fics for my blorbo, and this hit the spot so wonderfully. Cheng Xiaoshi wishing for his parents just gets me in the HEART, but I'm so so happy and touched by the way Lu Guang and Qiao Ling are at his side, showering him with tender and loving care. It's such a feel-good fic that scratches my itches, and I love it so!

hairball by Evyisevyl (00_EVY_00)

It didn't start with a hairball his cat coughed up nor did it start with his promise to buy cats. No, it started when Cheng Xiaoshi decided to get himself into an accident.

GAHHH THIS FIC IS SO GOOD!! It's such a quietly intimate portrayal of depression and post-trauma and grief as Lu Guang struggles to take care of cats while Cheng Xiaoshi is in a coma, and it is just so so gentle and tender. This fic feels like it gently picks Lu Guang and the reader up and cradles it and nuzzles it like a kitten. I want to cuddle this story.

His to Believe by @saelterlude

Lu Guang happens to visit the studio the one day Cheng Xiaoshi isn't around, thus what greeted him is Qiao Ling manning the counter. It naturally sparked a question in him.

“So where are his parents?”

Written by sael who likes to destroy me emotionally on a regular basis!!! I love this take on what was a rather vague prompt, which was simply, how did LG learn about CXS' parents, and they stayed so true to the characters and their natures. QL loves her brother so much and it exudes a deep closeness and dedication to him, which is such a moving portrayal of their relationship.

a bright sky, a place to stay by aaskew

The words ring in his mind nonstop, bringing together the need to puke. Cheng Xiaoshi’s inside curls into itself, something shy and wounded. Over the years, he’s fought trials against time and persevered amongst the most depressing circumstances ━ that moment, though? Nothing compares to how he was feeling right there.

Cheng Xiaoshi attends a party with a smile, but leaves with his heart aching.

Sometimes we gotta beat up Cheng Xiaoshi's emotions with a bat before we can shower him with love!!! This fic so firmly and intimately understands the value and strength of love and friendship, as it follows Cheng Xiaoshi navigating some deeply hurt feelings. It's so lovely and showers Cheng Xiaoshi with the love that he deserves (even if we gotta go through some heartache to get there!) and I feel like this fic is a big group hug.

swear you'll stay by Occasional Artist

Cheng Xiaoshi wants to make sure he can keep Lu Guang forever. What better way to do that than to swear brotherhood.

AUGHUGHGUHG THE DEDICATION THAT WENT INTO THIS FIC!! It delves into the culture, the history that I am so longing for, and portrays this beautiful and intimate relationship that is such a crux of ancient Chinese culture with our boys. Sworn brotherhood truly is the best way to describe CXS and LG, and this story honors that so, so much. It is earnest, it is joyful, it is so tender and sweet. AAHHHH!

[centipede-gutzz]

🃏 COLD COURT [LC JESTER x GN READER]

A/N: sorry, you're going through the horrors this time.

SUMMARY: The Cold Court of Dine is cold and unforgiving, and the Jester is no different. Yet, it could be different for you.

WARNINGS: scenes containing death and violence.

TYPE: fic, gn reader, platonic, angst with comfort from the thing that literally killed your teammates not too long ago.

"Alright, that should be the last of it."

You nod in agreement as your teammate puts down the rubix cubes one of them found in the loot pile. Said teammate, or Orange, sighs in relief. Another successful job in the cold planet, Dine.

Your crew managed to save up a decent amount of money to land here, in hopes of better loot to reach the next quota more efficiently. And for once, it was a mansion! A nice break from the steamy pipes and creaking metal of the railings. And surprisely enough, no casualties were to be had.

The previous run didn't end well. You recall losing one of your mates to a Coil-Head. He didn't react in time when the sound of scattering footsteps quickly approache them from behind, catching him off guard as his head was ejected from his body. Blood stained your suit as you stared down at his corpse, the spring sticking out where his neck once was wobbling around.

It was a gruesome sight to behold. You're lucky the others were there to help you, handing you the loot to escape while they took care of watching the Coil-Head. They managed to escape with you soon after, but you can't stop the guilt from invading your mind. You could've saved him, perhaps if you were faster. It's too late now. As quick as he was gone, a new employee arrived to replace him. The newbie seemed to do just fine, despite being a nervous wreck (you all nicknamed her Yellow, due to her suit color). You can't blame her, this job isn't exactly an everyday choice. This time, you hope that things will turn out differently.

"Woah hey, what the hell is that?!"

Orange's voice breaks you out of your thoughts as you turn your head towards him. He seems on edge, taking a step back as he points to the doorway on the other side of the room. You open your mouth to speak and turn to look at whatever he saw. Before you can even speak, you let out a startled noise at the sight.

It's a jack-in-the-box. The thing is huge, more bigger than any other one you've seen. It has legs too, with a singular arm on its left right below the crank. You quickly activate your scanner to figure out what the weird toy was. A "jester", the words read from your scanner. It certainly didn't look like one, no funny hat or ringing bells to accompany its design.

It just stands there...menacingly. The box slightly moves up and down in an idle manner, as if waiting for something. Your teammates quickly scramble to grab whatever loot they can hold.

"I don't what the hell that is, but I don't think we should stick around to find out," Orange rambles out. You quickly nod, your grip on your items tightening.

As soon as you were all about to leave, the Jester raises its arm to reach for its crank. It begins to crank itself with a steady pace, the song "Pop Goes the Weasel" coming from the box. Dread washes over you as you take a few steps around the box towards the door it came from. The exit shouldn't be too far from here, if your memory serves you correctly.

You call out for your teammates to leave, one of them already making a run for it. You soon follow but quickly turn around to see Yellow staring at the Jester.

Your voices rings through the air as you call out to her, pleading for her to move away from the box. She doesn't move as she responds, "But...what if it's fine? I used to have one of these as a kid, and the most it would do was scare me! Surely it won't be any different, right?"

"IT VERY MUCH COULD BE! We can't stand here forever and risk everything, we gotta move," Orange yells out. He lets out a noise of frustration when she doesn't budge and he puts all of his loot into your hands. He looks at you with a serious, yet sorry look.

"Hey bud, I'm sorry you have to be put in this situation again but we can't lose our stuff. I'm gonna try to get her out of here, but you gotta get this stuff back to the ship. Blue's still there, they should be starting the ship by the time you get there," he says. You shake your head in response. You can't lose another one again! What if something happens again? They've gotten this far, it doesn't have to be this way.

It feels like he can read your thoughts or perhaps noticed your quivering body and panicked breathing as he continues, "I know things shouldn't be like this again, but who knows what happens if we miss quota? Just run, we'll be right behind you!"

He pushes you out of the room and runs to Yellow, tugging at her arm and yelling at her to leave. The song never stops, the speed increasing as time goes on.

It's the same thing again. You feel helpless, once again the last resort. Your grip on the loot falters for a second before turning to run towards where the exit should be. The sound of Pop Goes the Weasel and your teammates voices echo through the halls of the mansion as you run as fast as you can.

What if something happens? Your thoughts quickly begin to swirl, making you come to a halt. The glass of your helmet's visor fogs up as you begin to hyperventilate. You can't be a coward again. There's a reason why you lost your teammate, and maybe even these ones if you just run away. You argue with yourself back and forth, undecided if you should continue to the exit or go back to your mates. Your mind seems to go with the latter, your shaking legs quickly turning around to go back.

As you take a step forward, you feel that something is off. You can barely make out the distant sound of screams, both human and not. Fast and heavy footsteps are heard muffled beyond the hard walls of the mansion, and whatever is causing them doesn't sound friendly. It's too late now, it was always too late for you.

You choke back a sob as you turn to run away from the horrible noises. It doesn't last long, seeing how whatever caused your teammates' deaths is quickly approaching. You go around a few corners that you swear were ones that could lead you out, but you were only met with an empty room. You fall to the floor with tears filling your eyes, items clattering to the side as you clench your fists.

Perhaps this job was never meant for you. Maybe it was all just twisted luck that got you this far. Fate is cruel, and she had much more in store for you. There's no time to play the blame game, the Court Jester is waiting. You face the doorway, face to face with the one who's responsible for your end. The wall touches your back as you make a poor attempt to delay your death and scoot away from the Jester.

It's screaming. Not out loud, nor in pain, but it sounds faint. What was once just a box is now flesh and bone, empty eye sockets staring into your soul. Broken sobs and pleas leave your mouth, wishing for another outcome than this. You and your teammates were nothing but thieves, commoners that trespassed this Cold Court. Perhaps this is for the best. You close your eyes shut and fearfully accept this fate given to you. It's cold and relentless, the fear never-ending. Exhale, and await your shortcoming.

...

.....

...the screaming doesn't stop. Even with your eyes shut, you can feel the Jester looming over you. Somehow, boldness finds its way in your mind as you open your eyes to peer above you. The sight isn't pretty.

It's way too close for comfort, bloody teeth and gore filling your sights. It's surprising that you didn't faint yet. Despite this situation, you can't help but smile weakly. Nervous laughter meets faint screaming as you mumble out a simple greeting. Maybe you truly lost it.

The Jester opens its jaw, blood dripping and landing on your helmet. You wince and extend your arms to protect yourself, whatever that could do. It's probably just toying with its food at this point, how cruel can this thing get?

Apparently, it has other things in mind. You feel yourself being lifted up from the ground. Teeth bites at your suit as the Jester settles you in its mouth, dangling like a bear would catch a fish. One bite, and it's all over. You can't stop shaking in fear, even with the Jester walking out of the room. Its gentle with its hold on you, footsteps thudding against the wood flooring.

How the hell did you end up here? This is not something you ever imagined happening to you. The feeling of flesh squishing against your sides makes you cringe. You bite your lip to stop a noise of complaint, no doubt it could kill you in an instant if you insult it.

It walks through the dark halls perfectly, like it knew the entire layout by heart. You recoil at the sudden bright lights attacking your eyes as you both end up in the main room. It stops nearby the door and settles you down as gentle as it could.

Both of you stare at each other silently, waiting for the other to make a move. This thing killed your friends not a while ago, so why can't you move? Despite the obvious danger levels of the Jester, you find yourself muttering a quiet "thank you".

The Jester twitches, seemingly pleased at your thanks. It lowers its skull towards you and exposes the top, nudging at you against the door. You make a noise of confusion before cautiously raising you hand to pat it softly. You don't feel like testing how sturdy it is compared to your human skull. It quickly raises itself up, bouncing in excitement like a puppy who's horrors is beyond your comprehension. Bits of gore fall from the box from its movement and you try your best not to show your disgust. You wave a small goodbye towards the Jester and quickly exit out the door.

You've never been more excited to hear the crunch of snow beneath your boots. It becomes red from the blood on your suit, but you don't seem to notice. Luck seems to be on your side again, with the Jester being kind enough to let you go. It doesn't feel like the best of fate, but you decide to accept it.

The Cold Court is unrelenting, the snow never stopping for a moment. A kingdom with no king or queen, instead a Jester to take their place. You were blessed to be spared by the faux ruler, the gift of horrible memories containing your teammates screams and cries forever following.

It's cold, and unforgiving.

[discodeviant]

for my dear friend @pmrcvictim who very humbly mentioned something about a gas station clerk and a thief, and, well...

consider billy pulling up to a gas station in the middle of nowhere for cigs and with less than a dollar in his pocket because he got screwed out of a deal that left him dry and fucking infuriated. hates to rob the place; knows he’ll probably get away with it because guys who work in these dumps are either out back having a smoke themselves or asleep behind the counter with a dirty mag on their lap. so he pulls up, parks, looks inside. lights are on. clerk’s awake and too handsome for a shithole like this.

“evening,” he says. he’s young and slender, tall even though he’s sitting down. watches billy as he nods in greeting before wandering around, pretending not to know where to find what he’s looking for. he feels eyes on him like he never has before, knows the guy’s looking and wishes he wasn’t. so he loiters for a while longer, grabs a can of red bull, some jerky, a pack of gum, and returns them all to their shelves.

“you gonna buy something or just stand around and look good?” the clerk asks, and billy pauses, then turns on his heel. maybe he can work this guy.

so he walks to the register and leans against the counter, eyes the smokes lined behind the clerk. “well, i’ve got seventy-three cents and a half-empty tank, so... what's my best bet?" head low, eyes high, he's an expert in his craft.

"someone's a pessimist, i see."

billy shrugs. "you know how it is."

"guess so." they pause. the clerk leans back and drums his fingers. billy pretends not to be bothered. "steve."

he's caught off guard for a moment, not having thought his plan through this far. "billy," he says back, holding a hand out for steve to shake, but steve just holds it. rubs his thumb along billy's rough and raised tendons, keeps his eyes focused on billy's.

"you live around here?" he asks; billy pulls away, lays his palm flat on the counter top as his gaze falls to steve's lips.

"nah."

"need gas?"

"not tonight. i'll make it."

"mhm."

so steve swivels around and reaches for a box of marlboro reds to sit upright in front of billy with a thump, pretending the plastic doesn't still crinkle under his finger. billy falters.

"i'm a good guesser." steve pushes the pack a little closer. "on me."

"you sure?" billy asks and gets a nod in return. "thanks." but when he tries to take it, steve pulls it back, unwraps the plastic, takes out a cig and sticks it between his lips.

"you know, if, uh..." he reaches into his pocket for a bic lighter and cups a hand to give himself the first drag of fruity nicotine. leans in close again, holds the safe end to billy's lips; he takes it. smoke seeps from steve's teeth. "if you need someone to fill your tank..." he blows the rest to the side, never breaking eye contact even when billy can't help but dart from one flat mole to the next and back again. "come find me, yeah?"

billy nods and lets him slip the box into his jacket pocket, pretending his hands aren't shaking as he stands back straight. "yeah."

"you have a good night," steve says, and billy waves back with the smoke between his fingers.

in the car, he pretends that was the plan all along, but he can't fool himself. not now. so he stops trying and pulls over a ways down the road to jerk off in the front seat before sleeping in the back. his skin burns, he's thankful for the breeze, and maybe--maybe--he won't wake up from this dream.

[veneskaa]

[binah-beloved]

Book of You

Binah x Reader Library of Ruina Pronouns: Gender Neutral Warnings: None

~ * ~

The Floor of Philosophy smells like black tea and raindrops, fresh with the dew of evening mist, the kind that only appears at midnight under the light of the moon. Quiet and serene, with shelves filled to the brim with books, the eighth floor of the Library exists as a place of calm silence, stars twinkling against the ceiling. But you’re not here to see any of it. The assistant librarians often speculate how their patron spends her hours outside of observing battles- the few who deliver books to Binah report that they often see her drinking tea, sitting at her usual table with a peaceful, contemplative look on her face- although occasionally, the librarians whisper in hushed tones, they’ll catch her walking along the aisles, staring intently at the title of each book for a moment before moving on to the next. It seems as though she’s looking for something, they all muse, huddled in a circle. But what? Not something, but someone. You. Binah can hear her assistants’ whispers, no matter how quiet they try to be- it’s amusing to her, catching snippets of conversation and theories as she passes by, each more outlandish than the last. But they’re never quite right, always missing the fact that she’s searching for a living, breathing person instead of merely an object, the one assistant librarian who hasn’t awoken from slumber yet. She remembered you even when her mind was hazy from sleeping for so long- your smile, your laugh, the way you made her cold, deadened heart skip a beat. You had toiled away at the Corporation together for cycle after cycle and slowly, surely, she had grown attached, although she had tried to resist. Arbiters cannot form attachments, it’s a danger to their work and occupation.

But mostly, it was a danger to your well-being, and that had worried her the most. Binah recalled looking up at the light as Angela reformed everything and everyone, the Arbiter’s hand curled against your warmer one. She had glanced at you, gauging your reaction, and your exhausted appearance drew a droplet of concern from the well of emptiness within her, the shadows in your eyes more prominent than usual before Angela had snapped her fingers and everything vanished. With how tired you seemed, it’s reasonable that you’d want to stay asleep for as long as you could. Truly, it’s understandable. She tries to be understanding- really, she does- but Binah wants nothing more than to be selfish, to find your book and wake you up again because she misses you, more than she’s ever missed anything in the world. It’s lonely up here, in her floor, the skittish assistants not being much good for conversation- and she tries to be more welcoming! She invites everyone over for tea, for books, for a chat, but rarely does anyone take her up on the offer. They’re all still afraid of the Arbiter she once was. So Binah ends up alone, quietly sipping her tea and thinking, as she always does. And she decides that being lonely is dreadful, that she doesn’t like it much, and her search for you resumes even though the Library is endless, even though she’s looked for days without any luck, even though Angela once flatly told her that she might never find you, not ever. Even if it takes eternity, she’ll find you, and you’ll find her- Binah believes in nothing except for this. It’s late one afternoon, near the end of another day filled with fruitless searching, that her keen eyes spot something familiar. A book just like the others comes into view as she steps closer, except this time it’s scripted with a name she knows well on its spine, the elegant handwriting shining with silver ink as she carefully removes the novel from its shelf.

Your name. You. Her heart warms as she traces her fingers over the letters, holding your book with the lightest touch before setting it down on the ground. With deft movements Binah flips open the first few pages then steps back as light emanates from the book, your form appearing with the crackling snap of a thousand sparks. You yawn and blink tiredly, then turn your eyes towards the woman standing before you, and a small, genuine smile forms on Binah’s lips as you gasp in surprise. She looks a little different, with longer hair and different clothes- but so do you, your uniform crisper and less worn than it’s been in years, courtesy of a certain Library Director- and you look positively in awe over Binah’s new appearance. She lets out a soft chuckle and reaches a hand for you to take, her grip firm as she helps you to your feet, making sure you don’t stumble. Your eyes widen as you admire the Library, such a stark contrast from the cold metal of Lobotomy Corporation, but Binah’s hand gently tilts your chin so you’re facing her instead, needing to see your liveliness after so long with only books. For a moment you swear she hesitates, debating with herself before slowly pulling you into an embrace, arms wrapped securely around your waist, and you hug her back eagerly, mumbling that you missed her. Binah hums in quiet agreement, the stiffness of her shoulders easing away almost imperceptibly, and the Patron Librarian of the Floor of Philosophy is finally at peace.

[mydictionary-yume]

Drabblecember Day 24 + 25: Big Get Together + Gift Exchange

Word Count: 1218

Taglist: @make-my-dream @thechavanator @dango-daydreams

Lu softly smiled to herself, gazing over the Mankai dorm’s common room, at all the commotion over the annual Christmas party. It was always an event to remember, at least according to Sakuya, along with a few of her friends outside the company, several of which were also attending for their first time, some for a repeat year. The chatter of the members turned to mush in her ear as she took a sip of her drink, taking a gander at all the attendees.

There were the members of the company, that was a given, she thought as she watched Masumi vying for Izumi’s attention, only for him to notice Lu staring, giving her a nasty scowl. She smirked, gesturing for him to get back to what would be a fruitless endeavor for him. Tsuzuru groaned, taking Masumi’s shoulder to attempt to lead him to grab more snacks, apologizing to their director as he did so.

Looking to the kitchen, she spotted Banri and Juza bickering as usual, this time over whether or not Juza really had enough gingerbread. Isa was at Banri’s side, tugging at his sleeve as she begged him to calm down, telling him it really was up to Juza when he had enough. Hahn only chuckled from where she sat next to Juza, taking his hand as he took another bite, making sure to give Banri a firm scowl before turning back to his partner as they planted a kiss to his cheek.

Lu had to laugh a little at the scene, grateful she wasn’t the one Banri was at the throat of tonight, though she did feel a little sorry for their poor partners.

A quick glance to one of the corners of the room led her to find Free, Taichi, and Azuma talking softly about something or another. Taichi was constantly rubbing her back, making sure she wasn’t overwhelmed by the noise or people at any point, and Azuma kept his voice low as well. It was a peaceful sight, Lu thought, and Free was lucky to be cared for so deeply, especially during this season.

It was a lovely party, and it was a nice feeling to be surrounded by family and friends so closely like this. That was, except for the fact that something was missing. There was one place she kept finding herself drifting to, and for good reason.

Sakuya sat by the window, staring out into the dark courtyard. He had briefly mentioned hoping for a white Christmas to her the day before, but she didn’t expect him to be that invested in attempting to get it to snow, even if his method was to simply sit and stare.

Lu stood to approach him, placing a hand on his back.

“You think staring out there’s gonna make it snow?” She asked, startling him.

“Oh! I mean, you never know, right?” He replied with a nervous giggle.

Lu could only sigh. She set her drink down, dragging her fingers down his arms to find his hands, taking them gently.

“Are you okay? You’ve been kinda quiet,” she noted. Sakuya simply shook his head.

“I’m okay. It’s just… it’s nice. It’s loud and chaotic, but it’s kinda calming,” he responded, a soft smile gracing his features. Lu breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank god, I was worried you were drowning again,” she joked, letting go of his hands to give him a teasing shove. “Oh, by the way, is it fine if I give you my gift now? I doubt I’ll stick around after the party, and there’s only a few more hours left of Christmas.”

Sakuya’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Now?”

“I can stay after if you want, though, it’s fine-“

“No, it’s great! Just let me get yours, okay? Meet me in the courtyard,” he punctuated his request with a peck to her cheek. Lu grinned.

“Gotcha.”

Sakuya waved to Lu as he exited his room, a small, but exquisitely wrapped, present in his hands. She returned the gesture as he sat on the bench next to her.

“Do you wanna go first or should I?” Lu asked, looking to his gift, then back to hers.

“You should go first! Mine’s, uh, kinda special,” Sakuya replied hesitantly.

“Okay. Then, here!”

She held out her gift to him, a small box wrapped in paper lined with hearts, topped with an adhesive bow. He took the gift graciously, carefully tearing into the paper, being as gentle as possible.

What he revealed was a silver necklace, with a dog tag pendant. He brought the tag into his palm, taking a closer look as to what was engraved on it.

On one side, it was his name. On the other, Lu’s. Each was followed by a small heart beneath the name, and Sakuya felt his cheeks heat up at the amount of effort she must have gone through to do all of that for him.

“I tried to get it in a style you might like so you could use it often!” Lu blurted. “Is it okay? Was I close?”

Sakuya hesitated, looking back to the pendant, before tackling Lu into a hug.

“I guess I have my answer!” She said with a giggle.

“It’s perfect,” he murmured into her.

“It’s not much! Kinda pricey, but really, it’s the least I could do! I love you, Saku!”

“I love you too,” he repeated, releasing his hold. “My turn, I guess.”

Sakuya held out his gift to her, displaying the hard work he had put into just the wrapping. Lu took it gently, casually tearing into the paper. What awaited her was a sight to behold. She opened the box, only to gasp at what greeted her.

She was met with a silver ring, engraved with a pink gemstone. Lu stared at her boyfriend, jaw slack. He bashfully scooted slightly closer to her.

“It’s a promise ring,” he started, taking the ring from its box. “I figured that once everything settles down with Mankai, maybe we can too. If you’re up to it, I mean,” he added.

He took her hand, treating it as if it were the most delicate thing on the planet, and slowly slipped the ring on her finger. Lu watched him with careful attention, her breath catching in her lungs.

“I love you,” Sakuya repeated once more, placing a gentle kiss to her knuckle, just like that first day.

Lu couldn’t believe this was happening. She gasped, only to plunge into his arms, stealing his lips for her own. He jumped, but settled into the kiss, allowing it to last as long as they could let it. When they released, it was with a small murmur from Lu.

“I love you too. I’ll stay. I promise.”

“Good.”

Lu sat up properly, raising her head to stare at the sky. She smiled excitedly.

“Saku,” she whispered. “Look.”

He complied, and gasped a little.

“It’s snowing,” he breathed.

“Looks like you got that white Christmas you wanted. Wait, can I change my gift? Can we pretend like this was also my gift?”

“Sure. Maybe it was,” Sakuya replied with a chuckle, scooting closer to Lu to watch the falling snow.

Lu grinned, planting a kiss to the top of his head.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Merry Christmas, Saku.”

“Merry Christmas, Lu.”

[curestaarlight]

boxing arc of LCLA goes crazy tbh we've got qiao ling busting the boys' time shenanigans (and her not believing at first until they prove it via HER being involved in said time shenanigans); we've got cheng xiaoshi's parasocial relationship w his idol shuang hai (man is obsessed); he's shaking crying downing drinks w shuang hai cos said boxing CHAKPION has no one to confide in except two twenty something year olds who did some sleuthing for him; cheng xiaoshi's all like "im your BIGGEST fan why are u being such a LOSER right now 🥲" and lu guang is sitting there quietly except for when scolding cxs for drinking too much too fast 😭😭😭 i love this show

[velmashaircut]

Does anyone know why Argenti has a new VA 🤔 ?

[cityzenchick]

That moment when ....... following an earlier row between you and Ruben, he had stormed out out of his flat, upset that you had been so short-fused with him as he was about to leave for a match ...... after half an hour of sobbing tears of pure frustration, you knew it was actually you that had over reacted, so, feeling guilty, you hastily rushed to your car and drove as fast as you could to the Etihad ........ you literally ran into the building to try and speak to him before the match .... and when you eventually spotted him following Kalvin down the corridor, you called out his name to get his attention ...... he turned abruptly, his eyes meeting yours, and he gave you a stern icy glare before turning away and continuing to follow the rest of the squad ...... that look left you feeling broken ....... and you knew he wasn't ready to forgive you .......

.... until much later when you were just leaving your best friend's house (you had gone there straight from the Etihad needing hugs and reassurance from your bestie) ........ outside you were met with your impossibly handsome boyfriend sitting in his car, his head tilted as he wound the window down, looking at you with apologetic puppy dog eyes that let you know that he too was sorry and everything was going to be okay ........

[stephofromcabin12]

Hey have you heard of “stories of the forgotten demigods” on ao3? It’s by someone named DeadAlex !

The story is pretty interesting, if you haven’t heard of it.

I have!

I don’t read a lot of fic for fandoms I’m currently writing for, just while I have stuff in the works, but I did check it out and based on the beginning it’s very intriguing!

It’s definitely on my “to be read when Little Camper is finished” list! :>

(That list is, by the by, short rn so if anyone has fic recs feel free to send an ask)

((maybe we can make it a regular thing/compiled list to support fellow fic writers? I think that would be fun))

[mykingdomforapen]

courage of stars | Link Click (时光代理人）

After receiving a cryptic photo of a missing man, Cheng Xiaoshi dives into the past in hopes of solving his disappearance. What he discovers leads him and Lu Guang into a mystery deeply entangled with both their families. Cheng Xiaoshi is desperate to save his parents. Lu Guang is desperate to save Cheng Xiaoshi. As the days draw closer to September 12th, the universe is dropping hints that it wants to do neither.

Rating: M

Characters: Cheng Xiaoshi, Lu Guang, Cheng Xiaoshi's Parents, Lu Guang's Extended Family, Qiao Ling, Original Male Character(s)

Relationships: Cheng Xiaoshi & Lu Guang, Cheng Xiaoshi & His Parents, Lu Guang & His Grandpa, Cheng Xiaoshi & Qiao Ling, Cheng Xiaoshi & Qiao Ling & Lu Guang, Lu Guang & Qiao Ling

Excerpt-

When Cheng Xiaoshi had woken up afraid, he had already forgotten the nightmare. All that he knew was that he wanted his mother.

He stayed very still under the sheets. If there was a monster in his room, they wouldn’t notice him. He kept the blanket drawn over his head, and his breath made his face feel all hot and itchy. He wanted his mother, but leaving the bed felt scary, and also Ling jie said that he was seven years old now, and that meant he needed to stop being such a scaredy-cat. What was he doing, still getting scared by bad dreams? They weren’t real. Snakes and bad grades were real, but nightmares weren’t.

So he curled up in a ball by his pillow and tried to be brave. If he couldn’t see what was outside of his blankets, then there was nothing to be scared of. He didn’t have to run to Mama, and then tomorrow morning he can tell Ling jie that he isn’t afraid of the dark. Then she would stop calling him ‘baby brother,’ which made all the other boys laugh at him. He hated when they laughed at him.

He just needed to go back to sleep.

He needed to sleep and stop imagining dark rooms and glowing eyes and something breathing behind his shoulder. There was nothing behind his shoulder. There was no one else in the room. He did not need to wake up Mama for this. She and Baba were always so busy and looked so tired by the end of the day. They were probably sleeping now, and there was no one else awake in the house.

He cradled his head and squeezed his eyes shut. What would Mama do if she was here? She would pat his head and sing a song until he fell asleep. Cheng Xiaoshi ruffled his own hair and hummed until his eardrums itched. It didn’t help, and now his nose was itching too. He wanted to cry, which was not what Mama would do if she was here, and exactly what he wanted to do because she wasn’t.

All of a sudden, he heard Mama and Baba’s voices downstairs, and now nothing could scare him too much to run after them. He took in a big, deep breath like he was about to go swimming before he leapt out of the bed and ran for the stairs. There was still a dim light on in the sunroom. They were the only ones in the room, but they still whispered. It made them sound afraid.

Read more on Ao3!