#like... it's so bad. I even got an idea for a snippet. a scene. something. this morning.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bad Reveal AU Chapter 2 Part 2

As promised! Here's the compilation of every snippet I've written for the 1000 follower ask game. I added an additional 300 words to the end to round out the scene.

Story Summary: Danny loves the Waynes, loves living with them. After the GIW, after his parents, he never thought he'd be able to have this again. A family, a home.

Then he overhears a conversation.

The Waynes aren't just the Waynes. They're the Bats, part of the Justice League. And the Justice League works with the US Government. The same government that runs the Ghost Investigation Ward.

It was all a lie.

AO3 link

Tumblr Links: Chapter 1, Previous

Word Count: 2.6k

-----

Three days later and they were all ready to tear their hair out. Barbara had found nothing new on the Fenton parents, even after Tim and Bruce joined her in the search. Apparently everything about the Fentons had been hidden behind the best digital security they had ever seen. Everything except the basics. And the firewalls were so good that they were almost invisible which is why no one had noticed them before.

Danny’s room lacked any sort of clue. They opened every drawer and went through everything they could find, only for nothing even slightly unusual to turn up. Definitely nothing like the bizarre energy weapon he’d used.

Jason had asked around as Red Hood to see if he could find any leads on the weapon. But every rumor lead to a dead end.

They could find nothing that might lead them to the people who wanted to hurt Danny. And Danny never came home.

Dick was currently in Danny’s room, again, trying to find anything. He was under the bed searching for hidden compartments in the frame or box spring when sharp footsteps sounded in the hall. A moment later, Alfred cleared his throat from the doorway.

“Master Dick! I believe you were instructed to leave the cave so you could rest.”

Dick pushed himself out from under the bed and sat so he was leaning against the bed frame. He flashed a dazzling smile. “Sorry, Alfred. I just had the idea to check the bed frame for any hidden messages or compartments. Wouldn’t have been able to sleep without doing it.”

Alfred sniffed. “We have already been over every inch of this room. You will not find anything new and you know this.”

Dick sighed, letting the smile drop away, and rubbed his face. He looked down at the carpet as he picked at it. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep. I just keep seeing his face. He was certain we were going to hurt him, Alfred. My own brother. How could I have failed him so badly?”

Alfred’s shoes came into view as he walked further into the room and sat next to Dick. “You haven’t failed him, Master Dick. And you know that. His fears were his own; based on experiences from before he ever joined this family. And we did not know there were problems to address. But we do now and I have full faith that you will solve this and bring Master Danny back home.”

“I wish I had your optimism, Alfred.”

“Then I shall just have to have enough for the both of us. Now, if you insist on being useful, Titus could use his afternoon walk. Normally Master Bruce or I take care of it…”

“But with B injured and the house full, you’ve got enough to handle. I’ll take care of it, Alfred.”

“Thank you, my boy. Now, help an old man up.”

Dick laughed; it wasn’t sincere, not truly, but he knew it’d make Alfred feel better. “Don’t even pretend you can’t get up on your own.” But he still did as requested and helped Alfred to his feet.

“When you’re my age, you will know what troubles I face.”

“Sure, Alfred. Now, where is Titus right now?”

Ten minutes later, Dick was outside in the late spring sun throwing a tennis ball for Titus. The dog was delighted with the game.

He rather felt like it should be raining or overcast or something. Not a balmy spring day with birds singing and bees buzzing in the clover. Danny was still missing; it shouldn’t be a nice day.

His next throw went much farther than he planned, and Titus bounded away.

Dick groaned and collapsed to the ground. He threw an arm over his eyes as he bit back his tears. Everyone was relying on him to hold it together. Damian was on a hair trigger and he was the only one who could keep him in line consistently; Tim was sunk deep into his research and barely surfacing for another energy drink every few hours; Jason and Bruce couldn’t be around each other for more than ten minutes without someone starting to yell. Duke was spending more and more time on patrol trying to find any information on the meta angle.

And all of them came to him to complain about the others. His family needed him. He couldn’t fall apart.

When a shadow fell over his face, he cracked open an eye expecting to see a cloud covering the sun. Instead he screamed and jumped to his feet as he came face-to-face with Clark.

“Warn a guy next time!”

Clark, the bastard, just laughed at him. “Hey, Dick. Didn’t expect to find you here.”

Before he could reply, Titus returned, ball clenched proudly in his mouth. “Good boy,” said Dick as he petted him. “Ready to go back inside?” To Clark, he said, “Most of us are staying at the manor right now. What brings you here?”

“We’re worried. Bruce called in saying he had an injury that would prevent field work for a few weeks. At the same time, Tim told Kon he’d be unavailable for Young Justice missions until further notice. And Damian canceled a sleepover with Jon with no explanation. So I made two of Ma’s pies and decided to come over for a visit. What’s going on?”

Dick sighed. “Danny’s gone. He discovered who we were.” He let out a hysterical laugh. “And apparently thinks that because we work with the US government it means we were just pretending to like him to gather information so we could turn him over to someone who would hold him against his will and torture him.”

Clark landed and pulled him into a hug. Dick clung on tightly. “Why does he think that?”

Dick shrugged and, reluctantly, pulled away. “Apparently his parents betrayed him once already. I think…” Dick closed his eyes and whistled sharply. “Come, Titus.” He held onto Titus’s collar and began walking away from Clark towards the manor. “We think he already has experience being held and tortured. And that it was his parents fault.”

Clark’s sharp inhale proved his horror at such a thought.

“Yeah. So now Danny’s gone and we have no idea how to search for him. Did B tell you he’s a meta? We knew he had some powers, but clearly we missed some because now we suspect invisibility, density shifting, and flight. So we’re trying to find the people who want to hurt him. But we keep hitting walls!” Titus whined when his grip tightened too much. Dick winced and let go immediately to pet the dog. “Sorry, Titus. You’re such a good boy.”

Clark draped an arm around his shoulders. “Well, why don’t you take me to the cave and you can go over everything you know. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes will help.”

Dick shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt. And maybe seeing you will remind Bruce he knows how to do more than grunt when people ask him a question.”

Clark winced. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse, if I’m honest. Danny shot him with an energy weapon before density shifting out of the cave. So now his newest kid is missing and he’s too injured to go out and search for him.”

Clark let out a low whistle. “Yep. That’ll do it.”

Dick pulled out his phone and opened the group chat. A quick text ensured everyone who was around would make their way to the cave. “I’ve told everyone to meet us in the cave. We’ll swing by the kitchen to get some plates and cutlery for the pie. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Clark ruffled his hair. “You know me, I’m too midwestern to show up anywhere unannounced without food.”

Dick gave a half smile, unable to muster up anything warmer.

Clark tried to keep up a stream of small talk as they swung by the kitchens to gather the plates. But Dick just couldn’t keep up with it. His mind was just too far away, on a young boy with blue eyes who loved hugs and had fit into the family so smoothly.

When they got to the cave, Tim didn’t even look up at the sound of the elevator doors opening. Dick followed his lead and ignored him, instead going straight to Bruce.

“You’ve got a visitor, B!”

Bruce only grunted and didn’t look up from his laptop.

Clark hid a smile. “I’m sure Alfred raised you better than that, Bruce.”

“Indeed I did,” declared Alfred with a sniff from where he was making notes in Bruce’s medical chart.

Bruce’s head whipped up at the sound of Clark’s voice and Dick bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Clark? What are you doing here?”

“Been worried about you and the kids, so I made some pie and decided to come on over. Kon and Jon are both waiting for updates as well.”

Apparently the appearance of Clark and Kon’s name was enough to finally drag Tim from the batcomputer for the first time in days. “Is Kon okay?”

Clark gave him a fond smile. “He’s fine, lad. It’s you—all of you—we’re worried about.”

Bruce looked away. “It’s Danny.”

Clark nodded and sat on the foot of the bed. “Dick’s told me a little. Let’s wait for the others to join us and you can all tell me everything.”

Dick checked his phone. “Babs said my text woke her up and don’t start discussions without her.”

Clark looked at him sharply. “Barbara is here, too? You really meant it when you said everyone’s been staying here, didn’t you?”

Dick shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s Danny.”

Tim laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah, he’s the only one who all of us like pretty much all the time.”

Clark frowned as he looked around at the people gathered, but didn’t say anything.

Alfred bustled in with a chair. “If some of you would help me set up chairs for everyone? We might as well be comfortable as we talk and eat.”

“Of course, Alfred,” said Clark, seeming relieved. “Be happy to help.”

Honestly, with how many people were there, it only took a minute. Jason and Stephanie arrived just as they were finishing up.

“Duke messaged me,” said Jason. “He’s on his way back from patrol.”

“Damian?” asked Dick.

“I am here, Richard,” said the boy as he walked into the medbay. “I apologize for my tardiness. I was with Alfred the cat and didn’t notice your message immediately.”

Dick went to his side and ruffled his hair. He ignored Damian’s glare with years of practice. “Glad you could make it. Come on, let’s get you a slice of pie.”

“I’ll start slicing,” said Clark.

By the time the pie was sliced and everyone had a piece, Barbara had arrived.

“Where is Duke?” asked Bruce.

Tim pulled up the tracking information on his laptop. “Looks like he’s only twenty minutes out.”

“He’d’ve said something if he’d learned anything new,” said Jason. “I say we just start sharing now. He’ll be back before we get through it all.”

“Agreed,” said Bruce.

Clark nodded and looked around the room. Dick just knew he was cataloging how exhausted they all looked. “What can you tell me about what happened?”

“Daniel lost his mind and attacked Father,” said Damian.

“Listen here, Demon Brat,” argued Jason, “you know damn well that’s not what happened.”

And when Tim backed up Jason, it became a shouting match. Dick buried his face in his hands. A headache was forming and he knew if he tried to intervene, he’d just make it worse right now.

“Enough!” said Alfred when it became clear the others wouldn’t calm down on their own. “We will go over it one at a time. Master Richard, you may start.��

So Dick gave all the information he knew. When one of the others indicated they wanted to add more, he let them. Alfred made sure no one overstepped. Duke arrived partway through and described what he saw when Danny disappeared and used his powers.

When everyone was finally satisfied they’d shared everything they knew, Barbara pulled out a tablet to show Clark the footage of the confrontation in the cave.

“And you don’t know where he got that weapon?” asked Clark after he watched it twice.

“No clue,” said Tim. “We’ve searched his room a dozen times since then, but there’s nothing even remotely like it.”

Jason nodded. “And I’ve been asking around. No one I can find has ever heard of one like it.”

Alfred added, “Even I was unaware he was in possession of such an object.”

Clark hummed as he replayed the last few seconds of the video where Danny density shifted through the stone. “He brought it with him when he left.”

“You’ve thought of something,” said Bruce.

“Could he have hidden the weapon inside something? Like a wall or the floor?”

Bruce hummed as he thought. “Is that even possible?”

Dick shrugged. “We know very little about what he can and can’t do.”

“Want me to take a look at his room with my X-ray vision?” asked Clark.

Bruce nodded. “Please.” No one commented on the begging tone in his voice.

And for the first time in days, Dick felt hope rising in his chest.

“And do we have any idea what he meant by Jason being in trouble, too?”

Jason shrugged. “Probably has something to do with how I died. I’m apparently the only one who can sense Danny’s empathy, too. And I mean supernatural empathy, not the normal person kind.”

Bruce agreed. “I found the most information on Amity Park when I found my way to supernatural message boards. Zatana is looking into some things for me as well. But it always leads back to ghosts. Though why Jason alone is of interest when others in the family have also died is uncertain.”

“I see. Well, I suppose we’ll find out when you get him home. Who wants to show me Danny’s room? We might as well start there.”

Of course, no one was willing to sit this one out. The biggest argument arose when Bruce insisted on pushing himself to his feet. He refused the wheelchair Alfred tried to insist he use, but a raised eyebrow and pursed lips did get him to take the crutches.

Dick and Jason exchanged a smirk at the scene. Alfred always got his way.

So, the entire group made their way out of the cave and through the halls of Wayne Manor until Clark stopped in the doorway to Danny’s room.

He let out a low whistle. “Whatever his powers are, he can definitely hide things in other objects. He’s left a lot behind.”

“Can you tell what they are?” asked Bruce.

Clark shrugged. “Some of them. There’s another item that looks like that blaster he had. Some…rope? I think? A tool box in the floor. A case that’s probably lead-lined. And a lot of stuff that I just can’t identify. I mean, a random cylindrical object. Some rectangles, maybe external hard-drives?”

Damian stepped forward, gripping the handle of his katana. “Then we will smash the walls to see what he is hiding.”

Dick rushed forward to put an arm around Damian’s shoulders and stop him from doing anything.

“Indeed not, Master Damian.” Alfred gave the boy a level look. “We want Master Danny to have a home to return to. And what sort of welcome would he feel if he came back to a destroyed room? Master Bruce, Mr. Kent, I am aware you have other collegues who can density shift. Could one of them be prevailed upon to come and remove the items?”

Damian scowled and kicked at the floor. Dick bit back his smile. The kid really did care about their missing brother, whatever he said.

Clark nodded. “I’ll call J’onn, Alfred.”

-----

Part 3

Several of you guessed this is where I was going to take it the minute I introduced Clark. Didn't see anyone mention J'onn, though. (But that might be because I was sharing such small segments, so fewer people were speculating.) Let me know what you think!

I've finally gotten around to making a Subscription Post for this fic, so follow that if you want notifications!

@hailsatanacab also started a fill for this prompt that I absolutely adore, so check that out here! (It hurts, it hurts so good.)

[morteisshipping]

Haven't titled this yet (if anyone has a good idea, pls let me know)

Hi. This is the S-Class Spy X Family AU idea that has been brewing in my head being turned into a something of a first chapter. Not a whole chapter ofc, I'm still confused whether I should use Yerim or Gyeol as their child (them being Hyunjae and Yoojin ofc).

So anyways, enjoy this snippet of the first chapter. I want to know if it's good before I post them to AO3.

Enjoy!

It’s been a bad day for Han Yoojin.

First, last night, his “clients” didn’t want to stay dead so Yoojin needs to make sure they did. Unfortunately, that makes the crime scene too bloody that Yoojin needs to spent some extra time to be meticulous on his “cleaning”. After all, cleaning up blood splatters on carpets and ceiling is a full-on laborious job. Because of that, Yoojin had to come home at early hours in the morning and only gotten three hours of sleep before he had to get up and get to his “real” job.

Second, his alarm’s battery was dead so he got up late. He works in the City Hall as an admin staff and he wasn’t supposed to be late, but luckily, his supervisor, Song Taewon, just sighed and let it go on the grounds that Yoojin had only been late this once. Third, his coworkers kept messing up their works and piled them on Yoojin.

And the final straw on the camel’s back, just before he can clock out, his boss, Woo Dongwon, asked Yoojin specifically to send a package to Foreign Ministry’s secretary, Suk Shimyoung—who is also working for his younger brother, Han Yoohyun.

“But sir,” Yoojin grits out desperately. “My brother and I don’t get along. Please get somebody else to do it.”

Woo Dongwon sighs, “I would if there’s anyone else to do it, Han Yoojin-ssi. As you can see, everyone else has already clocked out.” He says. “Besides, you don’t have to directly give it to your brother. Just give it to his secretary—what’s his name, Suk Shimyoung?”

“But Song Taewon-ssi is still here,” Yoojin points out. “And I don’t want to get involved Suk Shimyoung—he can be a real asshole if he wants to be.”

“I will need Song Taewon to run a different errand later,” Woo Dongwon says. “Anyways, you can just clock out now, deliver the package on your way home, and then went home afterwards. Just leave the package to the receptionist or something if you don’t want to see anyone. Besides, even though you and your brother don’t get along, surely, he wouldn’t be so unprofessional as to not accepting an important package from the City Hall.”

You don’t know him like I do, Han Yoojin thought bitterly as Woo Dongwon dismisses him. Yoojin stares at the innocent brown package that had been shoved into his arms by his boos. There is really no way out of this, isn’t it? After everything that had happened today, he is not sure he has the energy to explain to Kim Sunghan and Suk Shimyoung again that he is not here to see Han Yoohyun.

But then again, if they refuse to accept the package, Yoojin could’ve thrown them into their gate and run before they can accuse him of being a terrorist or something. It’s not his fault if the Foreign Ministry refuses an important package from the City Hall.

The way to the Foreign Ministry was uneventful, but it filled Yoojin with anxiety nonetheless.

Yoojin stares at the window on his way to the ministry on the cable car. He knew this road by heart. When Han Yoohyun had insisted he moved out of their childhood home three years ago, he drafted himself into the military against Yoojin’s wishes, and then he was recruited into the Foreign Ministry.

Yoojin supposed, he should be glad that his brother had become independent and found a good job that pays well. But the fact remains that they both had fallen out when Yoohyun drafted himself into the military against his wishes.

Han Yoohyun spent six months in the military without a single letter coming Yoojin’s way. If Yoojin hadn’t been friends with Yoo Myeongwoo—a talented informant and inventor—he wouldn’t have known that Yoohyun had finished his military obligation and was recruited into the Foreign Ministry.

Han Yoojin used to walk through this road, going to the Foreign Ministry building, day after day, week after week, month after month, just trying to meet with Yoohyun. And day after day, week after week, month after month, he was rejected.

Han Yoohyun doesn’t want to see him. He doesn’t even have the gall to say it to his face but always had Suk Shimyoung or Kim Sunghan deliver the message to him. But Yoojin was nothing if not persistent.

Day after day, week after week, month after month—he keeps coming and he keeps getting kicked out. Until finally Suk Shimyoung and Kim Sunghan got tired of him and let him in, just for the sake of not having Yoojin keep coming back like a persistent blight in their eyes.

“You’re in the way, hyung,” Han Yoohyun had said when Yoojin finally got permission to meet him to ask for explanation. “You should know your place and just stay at home.”

Han Yoojin understood. That’s why they both had went their separate ways. He hadn’t thrown a tantrum. He hadn’t gotten angry. He hadn’t cried. All he felt that day was just a bone-crushing exhaustion.

“I understand,” Han Yoojin had said that day. “Then let’s annul our family register, Yoohyun-ah.”

He had hoped—a teeny-tiny spark of damned hope—that Han Yoohyun would take it all back, to beg Yoojin to stay with him, to let them both stay a family. After all, after the early death of their parents, they were all what they have of each other. They had been brothers like no other.

But that didn’t happen.

Yoojin had raised Yoohyun like his own son. Yoojin dropped out of the school to work to support Yoohyun’s studies. Yoojin took up the mantle as both mother and father. Yoojin had recruited himself into an underground group of assassins, risking his life every night, just to make sure Yoohyun has everything he needed—all of it was for Yoohyun.

And what did he get in return? Yoohyun willingly abandoned him.

As per his request, Yoohyun wordlessly annulled their family register, separating them both as two separate entities and no longer one family. He made a copy for each of them and wordlessly handed Yoojin his own separate family register. Yoojin had stared at the lone name on the Han family register—his own name—and wordlessly left.

If Han Yoohyun had cried after his departure, Yoojin hadn’t hear it.

After that, Han Yoojin had sold their childhood home. Using that money, he rented a dingy apartment in the centre of the city, near the City Hall where he works, and invited Yoo Myeongwoo to stay with him to split the bill (and maybe to make sure he’s not alone in a large space—it would’ve driven him crazy).

That had been two years since then. Life has treated him fine. It was lonely without his brother, but with Yoo Myeongwoo and his night job, Yoojin kept busy. He hasn’t had much time to dwell on the silence of his apartment. Besides, Yoo Myeongwoo is a good friend. When Yoojin came home all bloody and injured from a particularly bad “client”, Yoojin had no choice but to reveal his true “job” to Myeongwoo.

Yoo Myeongwoo is not only accepting—he’s also very accommodating. Ever since he knew of Yoojin’s secret job, Myeongwoo had been inventing new gadgets, new tools, brewing new batches of poisons, and repairing his weapons—all for free—to help Yoojin on his night job. Yoojin is forever grateful that he has a friend like Yoo Myeongwoo, who not only help him, but also keep his sanity at bay.

Yoojin has never have any reason to come back to the Foreign Ministry again.

At least until now.

Yoojin’s reveries is broken when the cable car slows to a stop. From where he sits, Yoojin can already see the top roof of the Foreign Ministry building peeking out from the windows directly opposite him. His view is soon obstructed by some crowds getting up from their seats to get off.

Yoojin sighs and stretches—trying to stall. But if he stalls longer than this, the cable car might run again and he had to take the longer route and he’ll be home late again. All he wants to do now is go home and have dinner with Myeongwoo, so…

“Let’s get this over with.”

-

Yoojin hasn’t even stepped foot at the front of the gate of the Foreign Ministry building when his dark eyes meet with Kim Sunghan’s. They both make a face when they recognize each other from afar.

“Han Yoojin-ssi,” Kim Sunghan greets—not amicably, mind you. His face is still folded in the mix of disgust, dismay, and exasperation.

“Kim Sunghan-ssi,” Yoojin returns the greetings back to the guard—his face a mixed of dismay and irritation as it wordlessly screams ‘I don’t want to be here’. He’s been hoping that it won’t be Sunghan’s guarding shift when he arrived, but it seems he’s just hoping for too much.

“Long time no see,” Kim Sunghan says dryly—making sure that Han Yoojin knows that he is not missed during the long while that he didn’t visit the Foreign Ministry. “What is it that you want this time?” He asks warily. “Your brother is out on an errand and won’t be back until nightfall.”

Hearing that, Yoojin lets out a relieved sigh. At least, if Yoohyun is out for an errand until nightfall, there is no chance of Yoojin running into him. Honestly, Yoojin doesn’t know what he’ll say or do if he were to run into Yoohyun at this time. He is not sure he could keep it together then.

Yoojin clears his throat, making sure that his disdain also shows. “It’s a business visit this time,” he says.

Kim Sunghan raises a sceptical eyebrow. “Oh?”

Yoojin pulls out the brown package from his bag. “My boss wanted me to drop this off here,” he says as he walks closer to give the package to Sunghan. “Don’t ask what it is or why I’m the one being sent—I have no idea.”

Kim Sunghan received the package with a hum as he carefully inspects it. He might be Yoojin’s source of irritation, since he’s the one who usually booted him out of the building, but he is also a competent guard for Foreign Ministry. “Does he say who it’s addressed to?”

Yoojin shrugs. “No. He just says generally that it’s addressed for Suk Shimyoung or Yoohyun-ah. But he also says I can just leave it at the receptionist so it mustn’t have been too important.”

“I see,” Sunghan hums as he keeps his eyes on the brown package. “Well, thank you for dropping this off. I’ll send a word to Suk Shimyoung when he arrives—”

He is cut off by the arrival of a black government car. They both froze when the car pulls over at the front of the gate. It’s like a slow-motion video for Yoojin. All car doors open simultaneously and everyone comes out at the same time. The two people that Yoojin recognize reveal themselves. Suk Shimyoung—who frowns in disdain seeing Yoojin’s presence—and Han Yoohyun.

The boy whom Yoojin had raised looks up at him—his face betraying nothing but dismay at his presence.

What are the chances? Yoojin trembles. What are the chances that Han Yoohyun finishing his errand early and arrives exactly at the same time that Yoojin dropped by to leave a package that has nothing to do with them both?

“Hyung,” Yoojin gulps at the familiar calling. “What are you doing here?”

Yoojin opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

Suk Shimyoung sighs and Yoojin reflexively flinches. “I thought you made it clear that you both are no longer family, Han Yoojin-ssi? Why is it that you have to burden your brother with your presence all over again?” Suk Shimyoung says with no small amount of disdain on his face, like usual. “I thought we have clearly established this boundary that you are not to visit the Foreign Ministry again.”

It’s not that, Yoojin wants to explain; he is just here to run an errand, it has nothing to do with both of them. Yoojin opens and closes his mouth like a fish but the words he wants to say are stuck in his throat.

“Hyung,” Yoohyun calls and Yoojin fights his own instinct to prevent himself to do something stupid, like hugging him or crying openly in public. “I thought I told you not to come here again.”

Their dark eyes met. Han Yoohyun’s cold eyes stared down at him. Yoojin’s breath caught in his throat and he feels like he couldn’t breathe. They hadn’t met in two years that Yoojin had forgotten what it was like to be hated by someone whom he’s loved so deeply.

“You’re not wanted here.” Han Yoohyun’s last words is the last straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Han Yoojin turns and runs. He doesn’t know to where—all he knows is that he needs to go away. Far away from there. Anywhere but there.

He keeps running until his lungs demand oxygen again and at that point Han Yoojin can’t help but inhale with a sob. He doesn’t know what his face look like—he just knows that he is a mess. Tears already running down his face as he sobs openly, running to who knows where. He turns into a corner and into the open road—he hopes that a cable car would run into him.

Instead, his tearful eyes meet a pool of gold.

-

“It’s been three weeks!”

“And I’ll have them by the end of this week. Be patient.”

“You can’t just say ‘be patient’! Do you think the higher ups will be happy with this?!”

Sung Hyeonje pulls the handheld phone away from his ears as Evelyn yells through the gadget. “I don’t know what else you want me to say, Evelyn. You know I can’t just pick up any strangers from the streets to be the mother of my child—”

“Well, at least you can pretend to look for candidates!” Evelyn nags. “At this point, the higher ups are questioning your loyalty to the cause!”

“If it’s too much for you, you can direct them to me,” Hyeonje sighs. “Like I said, if they want this to work well, I can’t just pick up any stragglers from the streets—” He cuts off as someone bumps him from the corner of a building. The other person who bumps into him loses their balance and gasps in surprise as they started to fall. Out of reflex, Hyeonje puts an arm out to rebalance the person back to their feet.

Hyeonje blinks. Where did this person come from? He hadn’t sense him at all. The fact that someone is able to bump into him is amazing in itself. He has an amazing sense of presence—he should’ve been able to pick up their presence before this person can bump into him.

The shorter person with dark hair whom he had caught looks up with an apologetic look. His breath is ragged, his face and neck flushes with rosy hue, his youthful face wet with tears running down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, trying to pull away and rubbing at his face in an attempt to gather himself together. It was obvious he has just cried. “I was in a hurry.”

The man has a soft figure, rounded face, soft jawline, wide black eyes (like a doe), rosy cheeks (probably due to his crying earlier), pink supple lips, and a slender body. All in all, the man in his arms is definitely alluring enough even without the traces of tears on his face that makes him looks especially vulnerable that it makes Hyeonje wants to do nothing but devour him.

However, Hyeonje can’t be fooled. Though his overall figure is slender and soft, the skin underneath his jacket hides firm muscles; the hand he holds has calluses—specifically from knives—more specifically, from daggers. The way people hold kitchen knives and daggers are different, after all. This person in his arms is an assassin in disguise.

Hyeonje smiles. He has found his spouse.

“Not at all, it was my fault,” he says lightly. Evelyn is still shouting in his phone, but Hyeonje ignores her and clicks his phone off before putting them away in his pocket and instead pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he offered the handkerchief to the shorter man before him.

“Are you okay?” He asked instead. “Let me help you.”

The shorter man blinks before stepping back and shaking his head to gather himself together. “No, no, really. It’s really nothing you should worry yourself with—” He hurriedly rubbed his red-rimmed eyes with his cuff-sleeve before Hyeonje cuts him off by taking one of his hands and puts his handkerchief in them.

“Please,” he says with as much charm as he can, caressing the calluses on his finger. The hand of an assassin. “I insist.”

The shorter man sniffles and looks away as he timidly accepts his handkerchief and uses them to pat his red face and eyes dry.  

Hyeonje’s smile sharpens dangerously. There is no doubt about it now. This man in front of him right now is secretly an assassin. He remembers what Evelyn had said to him during briefing the last time they met to talk about Operation Strix:

“Listen to me, Hyeonje,” Evelyn had said. “There is a group of underground assassins that operates in Ostania called The Immorals.”

Hyeonje’s amused smile hadn’t fade, “What a cliché name.”

“It is an unofficial paramilitary organization and its purpose is to purge all the traitors of the country under orders from shadow government.” Evelyn had said to him. “Be careful, Hyeonje. They are known to be powerful. There are numerous assassins working under the Immorals, but they usually work alone. There are rumours that one of their soldiers can wipe out an entire troop of military.”

“I only believe what my eyes has seen,” Hyeonje said with a carefree smile. “But thank you, Evelyn. I’ll keep that in mind.” Evelyn just rolled her eyes.

After that, Evelyn had given him some information that she could gather about the assassins under The Immorals. To his dismay, the group is so tightly controlled that Evelyn couldn’t get any mugshots—only codenames, their status, their modus operandi, and their specialty weapons. However, that is already plenty for Hyeonje.

According to the list Evelyn had given him, there are only a few of the assassins under The Immorals are still currently active nowadays.

“Let me take you to dinner, at least.” Hyeonje says, taking the man’s hand that is still clutching his handkerchief and lifting it to his lips. The only active assassin in Ostania who is known to only wield knives as their favourite weapon would be only one person:

“Dear Honey.”

As Hyeonje enunciates that infamous codename, he watches as the man’s expression turns from embarrassment to horrified understanding. The man’s red face quickly pales in fear and Hyeonje can feel his breath sharpens and his body trembles.

The infamous assassin, Honey; no one in the underworld who doesn’t tremble upon the name. Honey is infamous in the underworld as a professional assassin who takes care of corrupt politicians and any illegal trafficking. He is famous for his favourite weapon—poison-laced daggers. The name maybe sweet, but it was in total 180 degrees with his choice of weapon. Despite his job, Honey is very efficient and effective in cleaning up bodies—he never leaves a speck of blood on the crime scene. It was as if it never happens.

This is the kind of person Sung Hyeonje wants. Someone competent and experienced. Able to protect himself and support him if needed. But also…

“What do you want?” the smaller man finally grits out after a pregnant pause.

Hyeonje hums slowly, deliberately messing with him, “Nothing much.” He says. “Just your small cooperation.” This man has a family.

According to the documents he’d been reading, Honey first enters the shady assassin business when he was as young as 13 years old—and he did it to raise and support his only family. His brother. Sung Hyeonje doesn’t know who his brother is yet—if Honey can give him his own name, he can look it up later. It’ll be easier to manipulate him if Hyeonje has a leverage against him.

Plus, if he has experience in raising someone, surely, he’d be a useful resource to help him raise his own family later.

Hyeonje watches as his adam’s apple bobs in nervousness and the way his expression turns from fear to a cautious apprehension. “And if I say no?” He asks with no small amount of trepidation.

Hyeonje’s smile sharpens. “Then I will have no choice but to find you myself,” he says. “But I make no promises that you will be intact when I do find you in different circumstances.”

The man grits his teeth. His hand in Hyeonje’s tightens. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a warning,” Hyeonje says, smile still in place. “Unless you give me what I ask.”

“And what is that?”

“A name,” Hyeonje answers easily. “And dinner.”

The man frowns sharply at him—obviously considering his options. “You know, I could always rat you off myself,” he says. “If I give you what you want, what’s in it for me?”

“Well, first off, you get to keep your life,” Hyeonje says, leaning further into the man’s personal space. They are so close now that Hyeonje can smell the man’s shampoo as he teases the shell of his ear with his breath. “But if you want more incentive, I can always spare your family’s.”

The man bares his teeth—in contrast to his soft features. “Do not touch my family.”

“I won’t,” Hyeonje says. “If you would give me your name and promise me dinner.”

The man stares at him with hatred—Hyeonje bets he wishes he has his knives right now. But even if he had, this man is no match with him. And Hyeonje knew this smaller man had considered it an option before knowing that it doesn’t worth the fight.

Knowing the man needs to push than that, Hyeonje slowly releases his hand and, with deliberate slowness as to not spook him, he unclasps the WISE brooch from the lapel of his red coat. Still with deliberate slowness, he pulls a handkerchief from his inner pocket of his coat and neatly folded the brooch before giving it towards the smaller man.

With confusion, the man accepts it, knowing he had no choice. Hyeonje smiles at the confusion in the man’s dark eyes. “Consider this a token of trust,” he says. “I will be waiting for you at Royal Hotel restaurant tonight 7 P.M. sharp.” Then as fast as lightning, he takes the man’s waist and whispers at his ears, “If you fail to show up, I’ll come find you myself. I’ll give you a day head start.”

It’s as good as a threat as it is a warning. Hyeonje felt the man shudder in his arms but the man grins, welcoming it with challenge in his eyes. “You’re welcome to try,” he grits out between his teeth, clutching his brooch in his hand.

With that, Hyeonje steps back and takes his unoccupied hand to his lips. “Then I will see you again tonight, dear…?”

The man clearly considering his options, whether or not to give out his name, but finally with a click of his tongue and an expression of annoyance, he says, “Yoojin.”

Hyeonje smiles, more friendly. “Then, my dear Yoojin, I will see you tonight.” He says before giving another kiss to his knuckles.

It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t give him his family name. A personal name and a short background history check is all he needed to know.

[]

That's all for now. If you're curious about this, you can check me out later in AO3, my username is morte_is_writing and I wrote other fandoms other than S-Classes too.

Thanks for reading and if you have ideas on title, plot, settings, or anything, drop them in the notes. Thank you so much!

me to my followers:

[quigzahhutt]

woahhhh a wild fic snippet !

Logan/Alex omegaverse project I've been working on - featuring omega Logan, alpha Alex, fake dating, fake MATING and more :)

so please, enjoy the mating scene oooooo

read below the cut!

It feels– electric, when Alex finally reaches down and wraps two fingers against Logan's wrist, rubbing the tips against the tender flesh of the scent glands there. He can hear Logan’s story taper off, his breathing slow to his left as he twitches against Alex where they're plastered to each other.

His fingers move carefully against the skin, a calculated circling as if taming a dog, shaking a treat in their face in hopes of befriending it, earning a lick to your fingers instead of nipping teeth.

It only feels natural, after that, to drag Logan's wrist up against his own scent gland– the one on his neck, the most sensitive part of him, in a way– simmering as he brushes soft skin against soft skin.

Their scents dance around each other as if it can sense the apprehension in the air, until Logan fully relaxes into his side, his temple making solid pressure against Alex's shoulder– it seems to catch on after that; lacing together like fingers between lovers.

A caramel latte, extra espresso; fresh grounds, room for cream– Alex’s own eyes flutter, saliva becoming tacky beneath his heavy tongue.

He's not entirely sure why he does it, only that it feels… right. Alex has never been one for instincts– he never really got the alphas who would growl and rumble for their omegas, protective and overzealous– he always thought of himself as a bad alpha because of it; he just never caught on– he never felt the need to.

But the feeling of Logan's prickly flesh against the soft glands on his neck makes a deep sound force itself out from his chest– a rolling rumble, beastial and resonant.

It catches him off guard, the sound sneaking out before he knew it– embarrassment quickly making itself comfortable underneath the surface layer of his skin, but the intimate sigh he gets in response soothes it immediately.

Because Logan was comfortable, he was content– an omega, close to him, happily letting himself be scented– 

Alex shakes himself with a jolt because wow, he has never had a thought like that before– it kind of freaked him out.

Because this wasn't just an omega, this was Logan, who was doing this all simply for the convenience of his job, and Alex was getting all weird and… alpha-y over it. Gross.

“Sorry– you probably just want me to get this over with,” Alex mumbles, and his voice sounds… odd. Not unlike himself, but it's– different, stilted and raspy. Despite the apology, he doesn't let go of Logan's hand,

“S’okay, I’m– I like this,” Logan practically whispers in response, wiggling his wrist in Alex's grasp, rubbing it further against the skin of his neck.

Alex slips his eyes shut at the sensation. It's not really a satisfying or relaxing feeling but it's… intimate. Comfortable, a story read to you before bed, a tale about a princess and a knight.

“Can I– move?” Logan asks, his tone strangely… affected? It isn't asked hesitantly, but he sounds pitchier, less drowsy than he normally does.

Alex doesn't think he even responds but before he knows it, Logan is sitting on his lap, legs bracketing Alex's own in a tender imitation of something heinously sexual that flashes in Alex's imagination.

Logan has resumed stroking his wrist against Alex's neck, although this time on the opposite side. Alex feels– weird, like he can't keep track of his own limbs as they make decisions he didn't approve of.

Because now, he has his fingers pressed against Logan's pulse point, and he has no idea when or how they got there, but he does know that Logan has his eyes slipped barely open, the small slit of them laser focused on where his wrist meets Alex's neck. His head is tipped minutely to the side as he soaks up the warmth radiating from Alex's fingertips.

It's all touch and instincts– far away yet familiar, unearthed from a part of Alex's core he never knew existed.

Before he knew it, Alex had replaced his fingers with his lips, resting against Logan's sluggish heart rate where it's snuggled between his jaw and throat. The soft beating, Logan's life sitting so deep in his chest making itself alive and aware against Alex's lips.

Alex begins shifting down, feather light touches against Logan's throat, teeth so close, yet sheathed safely behind a facade of sanity.

Because right now, Alex feels wild. Enraptured and unethical; everything he never knew he wanted, sat nicely in his lap right at this very moment. 

Logan makes a bizarre noise the moment Alex's lips reach the primary glands there– the sensitive, gummy flesh tucked into the junction of his neck– and he starts squirming, sounding a glacial whine from the lower portion of his sternum.

Alex can practically taste when Logan starts desiring– a blooming, sugar-sweet begins oozing from his glands– and Alex's tongue is darting out before he can think to stop himself.

The last sensible voice in his conscience tells him that it won't do anything; all Alex will be able to taste is Logan's tacky skin, wilting where he'd been anticipating this for days; scent does not translate to taste.

It doesn't stop him though. Each kittenlick against the salt fresh skin causes more of that rich smell to permeate his nostrils, bursting from the glands like a dropped egg each time Alex's breath ghosts against the surface. 

He scrapes his teeth against the spongy skin; drawing inside the lines before breaking the rules, dragging past the glands and teasing the tips of his teeth against Logan's collarbone. 

The textural difference is bizarre. Mentally, Alex knows the skin pillowing your scent glands tends to be softer, spongier and more forgiving; appropriately weak for the most vulnerable part of yourself.

But he had never actually paid attention to it on himself, and he doesn't dare go near someone's neck when he's hooking up with anyone, too anxious about accidentally losing himself and mating someone he doesn't care about– do something stupid that would ruin his career in a heartbeat.

But now, Alex rests his two front teeth against the middle of the flesh, the soft center of the glands, and he can feel Logan's whole body tense up as a completely new smell suddenly overwhelms Alex's senses– desire, impatience, anticipation–

He presses his teeth more permanently into the skin– not biting, nowhere close– but just enough so he leaves behind two small indentations in the crested shape.

He can feel Logan's blood thrumming beneath his skin and veins through his teeth; a furious colony of ants marching urgently, churning every cell to keep him alive.

Logan is pressing two insistent fingers against Alex's own scent glands on his neck, fingerprints tattooed into his skin with how hard he's pushing– urging Alex to just finish the job, make him bloody and bitten and his.

Alex presses a disgustingly open mouthed kiss against his neck, claiming the spot in a shiny sheen, warming the flesh with his breath.

“Are you ready?” Alex asks against Logan's throat, placing another sloppy kiss there, adding more layers of saliva on his skin, pooling in the junction of his collarbone,

“God, yeah– please,” Logan breathes, sounding nothing like himself.His voice is airy and light, laced with honeysuckle and sugar– an open window in his mother's kitchen, busy with work– refreshingly sweet as opposed to his typical growl; his usual feistiness nowhere to be seen, replaced clumsily by garish want.

Alex slurps against Logan's throat, swallowing down the saliva he had left there earlier, before finally, finally sinking his teeth methodically into Logan's scent glands.

---

a longer snippet than I'd normally post but I was feeling generous :) and also I'm ridiculously happy with this portion of the fic. my baby ...

of course, this is for @cunty-pink-porsche @twivez @escapentropy @colors-of-feeling thank u guys for being excited about this I appreciate the support endlessly <3 u guys r so cool ...

[half-dead-writer]

I'm yet to watch Scott Pilgrim but I'm having an obsession on Matthew just by watching the scenes that feature him, god I'm pathetic aha It's kinda bad in some places, I lost patience writing it stoned lmao

Just In Time (NSFW)

Matthew almost catches you doing sinful things in your room, you won't believe what happens next! aka your boyfriend doesn't shame you for being horny, talks it out, gets horny himself.

character: Matthew Patel (Scott Pilgrim Takes Off) words: almost 4k reader: gender neutral (no description of bits) warnings: it's a smut guys

��𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔰 + 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 / 𝔖𝔠𝔬𝔱𝔱 𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔤𝔯𝔦𝔪 𝔗𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔒𝔣𝔣 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

Washing all of your dirty dishes in the sink left you exhausted. You lazily threw yourself on the bed, taking out your phone. The digital clock shown 4:50 PM. Ten minutes until your boyfriend arrives at your house. You two planned to have a movie night today.

You've been dating for a week and a half now, slowly testing the waters with your relationship. In the first days, you and him were a bit shy, unsure what amount of affection is proper. From the brief info you had, you knew his ex girlfriend broke up with him pretty quickly. You could see it left a pretty negative impression, which made him anxious about doing something wrong, and you didn't really blame him. You had no previous partners, but you could imagine how it felt. Even though you knew him for such a short time, he seemed like a pretty sweet, loving guy, so you felt extra special when you two got to the point of being comfortable in each other's houses.

At first, Matthew insisted on taking you on fancy dates, being extra romantic and trying too hard to impress you. You appreciated his effort and charming antics, but felt like you weren't on equal grounds. You wanted to get to know him on a sincere, casual level. So when you convinced him that just watching some movies in a cozy setting would be enough for a date, you felt like you were a step further to being closer.

Your eyes were fixated on the ceiling, mind occupied with the excitement for the upcoming activity. The time started to drag, making a passing of just one minute incredibly long. Boredom forced your thoughts to wander in places you rarely visited ever since you started dating and a familiar warmth forming in your lower abdomen hit you at the worst moment possible.

You were fine with the slow tempo you had established - cuddling was the furthest you two went in terms of physical affection. Except for the one kiss you two shared (right after Matthew asked you out) and some quick pecks on the cheeks, you and him rarely kissed.

You didn't even notice how tense you were these past days. It wasn't a problem when you had the time to do your business in peace, but for the past week, all you've been focused on was mostly Matthew. Normally, you would have likely ignored it and dealt with it after the event, but you didn't want to risk dirty thoughts seeping into your mind when spending time with him. It was a literal Netflix and Chill situation, and you weren't about to ruin it by being weird. You didn't want to overwhelm him, there would be a time for that later.

Your sight fell on the phone again, reading the numbers - 4:54. Six minutes left for the 5 PM to arrive. The heartbeat in your chest quickened as your mind was starting to slowly warm up to the risky idea. The more you hesitated, the less time you had for your break, which created even more pressure to the current conundrum.

A defeated sigh left your lips as you shamefully watched your hand disappear under the waistband of your underwear. Closing your eyes, you tried to mute everything around you, focusing purely on the action. Understanding the dangers of not being urgent enough made your body work in an unexplainably fast manner.

An imagined picture of Matthew catching you in the act invaded your head, making you even more on edge. You didn't actually want it to happen in real life, but a snippet of how it could play out in the future had you in it's grasp.

The sinful thought made your breath quicken, the world was slowly turning into a blur. The pleasant wave began to take course through your muscles. Your bliss didn't last long, though. In a split second, you realized you heard a noise of the doorknob turning, along with a familiar voice.

"Y/N, I arrived!" He announced, slowly entering your room. You didn't have time to dwell on the irony of his sentence, quickly vanishing your hand from your pants.

"Matthew!" The words spilled out of your mouth in a hurry and you wished you had the reflex to stop them. The off tone caught him by a surprise, forcing him to take a better look at you. His eyes noted your slightly disheveled appearance.

You let out a forced chuckle, careful not to sound too out of breath, "You're here!" You readjusted yourself on the bed a bit more appropriately, keeping your legs shut.

"Wow, hey," he said, his eyes resembling those of a deer flashed by streetlight for a moment, "-you missed me?" His question was purely of the innocent nature, making you feel even guiltier.

"Obviously- we were supposed to watch that show, remember?" You tried your best to not sound as if you were about to get shot, the anxiety bubbling in you.

His look from across the room was a bit concerned, unsure if the mood in the air he read was correct. Not wanting the situation to be awkward, his face softened into an unsure yet affectionate smile, hoping to make the atmosphere less tense.

"Uh, I didn't mean to just barge into your house, but I knocked and didn't hear you coming, your door was open so I-" He tried to explain, but all you were busy focusing on your screw-up.

You forgot that you did, in fact, open the doors once you were done cleaning the dishes. Your mind was strictly occupied by him coming home, so you thought your small break to chill on your bed would be short, and in no time, you'd be greeting him on the other side.

"No, no, it's fine," you rambled, the dry feeling on your mouth distracting you slightly, "I should have paid more attention and actually greet you by the door-"

"I just, uh, wanted to put it out there, that," his words started to fumble, "whatever you do in the privacy of your room, is, none of my business-" He tried to gently reassure with intentions of not shaming you, even if he wasn't sure if you'd take it the right way.

"Noo- I made things awkward-" You whined in a self-deprecating tone, you were not prepared to handle this.

"What! No, you didn't!" He shot up, the rush to chase away your worries made him raise his voice a little. You flinched, which made him realize how he came off.

"I- I mean," he stopped, "it's not a big deal, don't worry-"

"I just don't wanna make you uncomfortable," you lightly bit your lip.

"There's nothing that you need to feel awkward about!" His hands flailed around, trying to emphasize his point, "we're both- adults."

You showed him a tired half-smile. Even though the tense atmosphere was cutting into the you both, Matthew still tried to reassure you in his own way. You felt a bit better.

"We didn't really discuss any- stuff of this kind together, and I didn't know if it'd be a comfortable topic for us yet-" you continued, feeling put on the spot. Even though Matthew gave you a way out of this topic, you just had to dig yourself a bigger hole.

His sight jumped around the room, making sure to not meet with your eyes. You felt the mattress sink under his weight as he sat on the bed next to you, trying to hide half of his flustered expression in his bangs.

"I'm not against the idea, if you aren't." 

It took you a moment before you responded, "I'm not ... I mean- we could discuss it now, if you feel like it."

"Okay-" he stretched his arms forward, promptly resting his elbows on his knees, a spot on the floor seeming more comfortable to stare at for the moment.

The short silence made Matthew speak up again, "so-" he bit his lip, already knowing his further words will embarrass him.

"Were you thinking about me?"

"Matthew!" His surprising bluntness made you raise your voice, gaining a guilty and anxious grin from the man. It was his turn to feel like he crossed a line.

"Sorry, I just-" he tried to back out from his words, his hands raised in an apologetic manner, "I- I was curious!"

You couldn't contain the chuckle wanting to escape your lips. The ridiculousness of the situation finally got to you. He wanted to see it as a good sign, but he was still a bit on edge from his outrageous question.

"I- I was," you meekly answered, feeling exposed. Not like anything would come out of you keeping it a secret. He was your boyfriend, he asked, it seemed fair enough. That response, however, made him straighten up immediately, and you could swear you heard an almost inaudible, sharp intake of air, as if he was about to choke on his own breath. 

"I- alright," he huffed out, blank stare visible on his face. The answer and it's implications sinked in, the cogs turning in his mind were pretty visible. His worries about you leaving him have been suddenly put on pause. You thought about him in that way?

Seeing how affected he was by your confession made you a bit more confident. He timidly opened up his mouth again, "Can…"

"Can I ask," he prolonged his sentence, "what were you thinking about?"

Again, it was your turn to be coy. But, from the reactions he gave you, you concluded it wasn't as awkward of an experience as as you originally thought it would be. I mean, it was still awkward, but not as bad. Matthew was just flustered, and so were you, but the vibe in the room wasn't purely negative.

"I was thinking…" you tried to put down your words in an eloquent manner, fighting the urge to cringe at what you're about to say, "how soon you're gonna be here."

Matthew only briefly glanced at you, his usual, theatrical reactions stopped due to intense focus on your words.

"How I must hurry up, otherwise you're gonna know something's up. And, well, you did," you quietly muttered out, forcing a crooked smile. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole, but the reactions to your admissions were pushing you to keep going.

"And… how did you think it was gonna go?" he dared to ask.

"Well, um… I hoped you wouldn't get mad, or worse, disgusted-" you stated your worries, it felt a bit relieving to finally get it out of your chest, even if it was a pretty vulnerable experience.

"No, no-" he was quick to say, "I'm not disgusted at all!"

"I think-" he hesitated, "I think it's even, kinda, hot, he finally sputtered out.

You couldn't help yourself as laughter busted right out you, catching Matthew by surprise.

"What?" he shot up, now feeling like he surely said something embarrassing.

The affection reflected in your eyes as the corners of your lips went up. You pressed a light kiss on his lips which he reciprocated, but was fairly surprised.

"What was that for-?" he asked, unsurely looking into your eyes, yet without an intention to complain.

"You're too adorable," you said, gaining another pathetic sound from the man.

You stared at him for a while, just basking in the unexpected joy your boyfriend gave you. You were fully prepared for the evening to turn sour, and now you were both openly discussing pretty intimate matters. Well, as openly as you two were able to get at this early stage of your relationship.

"How did I find such a good boyfriend?" Your words were coated in honey, you wanted to butter him up. It wasn't really serious, more of a lighthearted tease, while still staying relatively sincere to your honest thoughts.

Matthew's eyes went wide as he quickly changed his sitting position. His legs were clasped together, a nervous look on his face betrayed his embarrassment.

"L-love, um-" his brows were uncomfortably furrowed, a bashful grin appearing on his lips, "would it be a good time now to admit to something as well-?"

Your curious eyes landed on the area he tried to hide. You had a clue as to why his position suddenly shifted. You nodded slowly.

"Your words are killing me," a nervous titter followed after.

"My words?" You played a bit dumb, innocently pushing further. You saw an opportunity, so you chased it.

"Your- compliments. In- in this, current setting," He explained, his back arched in a way that made his arms rest "casually" while also covering his crotch. Even though he was actor, he couldn't nail the natural look.

"Mm?" You let a cheeky smile get on your face. Getting a bit closer, yet still hesitant, you tested the waters, "is me saying you're a good boy turning you on?"

His shoulders stiffened as soon as the sentence fell on his ears. His bangs were successfully hiding part of his face, until you made an effort to gently put them behind his ear. You raised his chin up with your finger, making him look at you. You could feel the way he melted under your touch.

In a weird surge of confidence, you decided to press your lips into his once again, this time trying to gently push him to part his lips. He got the hint pretty quickly, allowing you to slide your tongue into his mouth without much resistance.

It got a bit sloppy, but neither of you minded at the moment. Even though your eyes were closed, you could feel the warmth in Matthew's cheeks as you slowly moved your hand to cup his face. Matthew leaned into the kiss, letting you take charge.

A light string of saliva connected you both when you gently pulled away from the kiss. Even if it lasted a relatively short time, his expression seemed dazed.

His hands let go of hiding the intimate spot, an action which let you see the uncomfortably stretched fabric of his pants. Your gaze left him flustered, yet he plead the fifth. The cat was out of the bag, there was nothing to hide anymore. All left to do was to take the shame with dignity (or lack thereof).

"Mattie-" your words cut through the silence, his whole focus went to you, "would you want to- get on my lap?"

You could practically feel the heat radiating off of him, his eyes betraying the excitement. He nodded, carefully positioning himself on the spot that you requested. You felt his weight resting on you, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

He stayed silent with bated breath, careful not to break the moment between you two. You couldn't lie, your worries were similar, but you decided to just go with the flow. Your hands slowly crawled onto his sides, making him squirm at the sudden contact.

"Tell me if I do anything uncomfortable," you whispered while moving your hands down his torso, making the man exhale sharply.

"Mhm," he hummed, trying to keep his composure, "you can do- whatever-"

To avoid unnecessary silence, you occupied your time by locking your lips again, leaving only the sounds of excited breathing as the ambient around you. You closed your eyes, the sight of your boyfriend in the current situation was too much to bare. Your hand trailed down to touch the fabric of his jeans, gently exploring the place. Matthew didn't know what to do with his hands as he let out a quiet whimper. The noise made you wanna move from the place, now slowly unbuckling his belt. Matthew kept his hands politely placed on his knees, but after a while he rested them carefully on your shoulders.

Your hand snaked itself onto the bare skin below his abdomen. The feeling of your fingers brushing along his length made Matthew pull away ever so slightly, breaking the kiss with a hitched breath. You didn't dare to look down, instead choosing to assault his neck with a trail of light pecks.

The feather light smooches made him wiggle a bit, the intense reactions to your touch had you charmed. His body language was already pretty open and theatrical in a casual setting, and it amused you that his movements translated well into the current activity.

After his neck was full of marks left by your lips, you pulled away, making him look at you. His bangs managed to fall on his face again, leaving only one eye uncovered to glare at you with affection. You raised your hand until it was on the same level as his lips.

"Open up, please?" you requested, filled with a surprising amount of confidence.

He did what you asked for with almost no delay. Your digits gently pressed down on his tongue. You gathered some saliva by moving them around, brushing his teeth lightly in the process. After you left his mouth, Matthew kept it open for a few moments before closing it, as if he just processed what happened. Your used the lubricant to make your hand slide up and down with more ease.

"Mf-"

The action lasted no more 2 minutes, and Matthew was already starting to become a mess. His breath quickened substantially, releasing shallow pants on par to your strokes. He was doing whatever he can to not break the fun too soon. You noticed he was close, and so your movements stopped completely. He was hoping you didn't notice a dissatisfied whimper that quietly managed to escape his mouth.

"Mattie?" you asked, tone barely above whisper.

"Mm?" His tired look was obstructed by the messy hair.

"Did you ever think about me when…" you started, hoping this topic wasn't crossing any boundaries. But he asked you about it first, so you thought it was fair.

Matthew tensed, meek "I-" came out of his mouth. He avoided eye contact for a second, pretending he didn't feel as if he was just caught doing something bad.

"Only once!" he defended himself, prepared to be severely judged for admitting to it. You chuckled softly, endeared. You found his humility quite cute.

"Well- You wanna do it a second time?" You asked, mostly coy with a hint of feigned confidence. The blood rushed to his cheeks as quickly as the words left your mouth.

"N-now?" he asked, just in case he misunderstood something.

"If you're comfortable with it, of course," you reassured. You still wanted to make sure you were on the same page. A hesitant nod acted as his confirmation.

"Good boy," you murmured, causing goosebump to appear on his skin. You started undoing the buttons of his red shirt, making his body freeze.

"Don't mind me," You cooed.

His hand reached the destination, carrying out slow, gentle strokes. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the feeling (which was pretty hard with you actively messing with his buttons). His chest, quickly rising and falling, was on full view and your hands were quick to explore it.

"You look so pretty right now," you whispered. You weren't even teasing, those were your honest words.

"Nhf-" He bit his lip, his pace quickened. At this point he didn't have the strength to hold back his sounds, your ears were hit with an array of moans and whimpers.

"How did I get so lucky?" You continued buttering him up, you knew it made him tick. Another wave of hickeys landed on the side of his neck.

After a frenzy of labored breaths, a prolonged whine got out of his lips. His entire body tensed, a hit of euphoria catching up. His shoulders fell limp, his chin rested on your shoulder.

"Feeling better now, love?" You embraced his waist, his entire body acted like a big heater.

"Y-yeah," he huffed out, slowly coming to his senses.

You pressed a soft kiss on his forehead, forcing him to show a crooked, bashful grin.

"Are you… ready to go again?" you felt embarrassed by being so needy. You had your release not so long ago, and you were still desperate for another one.

"Uh," he waited a bit before responding, "y-yeah, of course- just be a bit gentler while I recover," he didn't wanna ruin your fun, even if he did need a small break. Given the circumstances, you decided to try something different.

"Could you lay down, please?" He obeyed without any objections, looking for further instructions.

You placed your butt on his thigh, your pelvis started searching for friction. You decided to keep your eyes closed, careful not to focus on how desperate you looked, in opposition to Matthew, who's eyes were open wide, looking at you as if he was about to faint. The sight of you dry-humping him made him regain his strength a bit faster.

"O-okay, I'm ready!" He exclaimed, raising his upper body by supporting on his elbows. Your movements stopped, a light pant came out of you, missing the feeling.

Hearing the rush in his voice made you smile, he sounded as if he was about to miss the best part. Not wanting to tease him any longer, you pulled down on his pants, exposing more of his body. He didn't mind, bending his legs to make it easier for you. Matthew laid on your bed almost naked - his lower half was completely on display, the unbuttoned shirt was doing a poor job of hiding his physique.

"You're overdressed," he pointed out, his tone a bit pouty. A not so subtle hint of him wanting to see more of you.

"Sorry, I didn't want to steal your spotlight," you joked lightheartedly, gaining a flustered eye roll from the man.

You got out of your pants, swiftly tossing them on the floor. You didn't really have a plan in mind, your only objective was for you both to have a good time. Matthew watched as you hovered above him, this time aligning your nether regions with his. You leaned your face closer to his, subtly brushing against his groin. He was so warm-

Your tongue hungrily dove into his mouth again. You felt his hands grab your waist, holding you tight in his grip. He wanted to be as close as possible, too desperate to let go of you. Your thrusting hips created a comfortable pace for the both of you to feel the most out of the effects you had on each other.

His fingers were starting to gently dig into your sides, betraying how close he was. His kissing became less active, now focused on holding back the feeling of euphoria that would soon overwhelm him. The intense pang of pleasure made you break the kiss with a sound that he found very attractive.

Matthew's release followed shortly after, leaving both of you a panting mess. Your body fell limply on his, relishing in the afterglow from the overwhelming bliss. You pushed your body to the side after you were able to move again and your limbs entangled themselves into Matthew. He let out a content sigh, putting his arm around you.

You didn't expect the entire ordeal to leave you so sleepy. You still wanted to go through the original plans you had, but the thought of doing anything other than heavenly falling asleep in his arms was already too tiring for you.

"I love you," he murmured tiredly, "so much."

[belethlegwen]

Hey girl heeey, it's me again! I'm still raving over the tiny/shrunk Melanie in Vogunti! Do you, mayhaps, have a scenario or a little snippet of tiny and/or shrunk Melanie with Henry? A little crumb, perhaps?

I love this ask!

I loved this ask so much that I was like "aw hell yeah, I can make a googadok and scribble out some ideas/maybe a quick little scene".

......

Anyway here's 15 pages of what would've been the start of The Stranding But Shit Happened And They Swapped, please enjoy <3

Also posting it here below the cut for the Tumblr folk who don't wanna head to AO3:

“Just hang on.”

Henry wasn’t sure who he was saying it to anymore.

His voice was hoarse and he hacked loudly into the rainy salt-spray that came up over the bow, his boots gripping the textured floor beneath him as he gripped tightly to the wheel.

“Just hang on.”

When his empty hand slipped on it, he could feel how cold the steel was wherever he hadn’t been holding. The other hand released from the wheel, hauling hard on the rope that was wrapped tightly around his palm and wrist as another gust came to try and take them off track once more.

They were nearly there.

They had cleared the black stones.

They had made it past the point.

They were nearly there.

He could see the trees on the hills, bowing and bending with the gusts of wind that would’ve likely torn any other sloop’s sails from the mast and rigging. If he could keep them from catching one more bad gust-- if he could ride this next wave with the tide--

“Hang on!”

He turned the ship at the last, pointing her straight in toward the shore that the waves were throwing him at as he hauled on the sail rope for that one, final, desperate moment.

She practically flew, weightlessness nearly overcoming him as they left the crest and hopped toward the next wave, her keel clearing the hump of any dropoff there if he was lucky. 

Another gust rushed at them sideways, this one threatening to undo all of his hard work.

He let the rope fly free, the wind whipping it with such a noise as he had never heard before, and he felt blood rush back through his palm to his cold, numb fingers.

 That hand fell over his chest, while the other gripped the wheel to help him brace for the impact as the Swift Landslide’s belly landed on the sand and beach rocks, sliding and scraping with the surf up the beach.

His knees had hit the deck, one leg splayed toward the port side to brace against what little this vessel’s helm offered as a foothold, merely a strange recess that had so very recently seemed so very, very different. In the profane, vulgar stillness the vessel had come to in defiance of the gusting, churning winds, the pounding sheets of rain, and the rolling of the sea, Henry tried to slow his ragged, hacking breathing while it drowned out nearly every other sound even as the water lapped loudly against the propped and tilted bottom of the boat.

“...Keel’s gone,” he called through panting gasps, loudly enough to carry through the storm to--

“Fuck,” he swore much more quietly, his hand lifting away from the breast of his coat as he scrambled to his feet, splashing in the water that had collected on deck. He fought his way inside. The strangely-folding hinged door to the now cramped, almost suffocating cabin was barely still attached.

“Fuck, please--” he breathed in panic, struggling to close the door behind him in effort to shut out the storm, standing at an angle on the stepped ladder between the bench and the tiny galley. “Please, are-- are you alright? Please, can you-- can you say something? Anything?”

He pulled the coat gently open as he finally got himself onto the floor proper, staring down at the top of the inner pocket, his mind already firing through a thousand or more worst-case-scenarios. He couldn’t tell if he was still shaking too much, or if his eyes could truly make out anything in the dark.

A breath rushed out of him deeper than the one he was sure he had taken as muffled noises managed to reach his ears, followed by what was clearly coughing. The fabric moved, though it seemed so wrong in its way.

She was alive. That alone put so many of his barely-formed fears to rest.

…She was alive. That alone ignited so many new fears and confusions.

“I-- I need to get you out of there,” he muttered, his tongue and lips seeming to move of their own accord and stutter his words like he meant to say so, so much more. Water dripped from his brow, splashing into a growing puddle collecting on the floor as rain and more of the sea trickled in under the door and over the steps behind him. “I-- there’s wat-- it doesn’t matter,” he mumbled to himself, his heart pounding as he struggled to figure out the next step, her sounds still incomprehensible.

The boat rocked under him as a particularly large wave crashed around and under it; not enough to dislodge, but enough to have him bump his head on one of the overhead devices that had seemed miles away the last he had bothered to take any stock of them. Mindlessly his hand kept coming to press against the outside of his coat, knowing without truly acknowledging that there was panicked movement inside it. If he would stop to think about it, Henry would either tell himself he was trying to offer comfort and reassurance, or he would realise that it clearly had the opposite effect and would stop. As it stood now, however, he could not stop to think about it, so he moved himself to sit on the lowest-tilted bench, positioning himself next to the ridiculously small counter.

He couldn’t get lost in the thoughts of the size of things right now; at least things outside of her.

Another noise he couldn’t make out was followed by obvious coughs as he opened his coat once again, the man muttering apologies and directions-- mostly to himself-- as fingers reached to the pocket’s top seam and opened it.

“Wait!”

It was a shrill scream, and the first understandable word she had used since this nightmare began, but as quickly as the man stopped at the sound of it, her next explosive wave of coughs spurred him into thoughtless action again, and those fingers-- still with the cold of the storm clinging throughout them-- fumbled her screaming, flailing form out of the damp fabric.

Everything about this felt so wrong to him. A desire to clutch and hold to stop her frightened attempt to escape him was nearly overbearing all of his better senses, simply due to the adrenaline-filled instincts that coursed through him with the thundering of his heart still.

All the while as he tried to wrap both hands around her, his stomach lurched and mind stabbed at him with the memories of his own terrors; of his own hatred for what he was doing to her. These were fresh wounds of fear, even, that he now was inflicting on her with no excuse other than that itself: Fear. 

He was frightened.

Though as he released her onto the slanted counter, hands staying to try and create a wall so she wouldn’t throw herself over an edge in her panic, he realised he was not nearly as frightened as her.

Melanie’s throat was raw and still she screamed. It was a compulsion, it was instinct. Involuntary, along with the scrambling and flailing. She hadn’t gotten her bearings since she could remember the wave knocking her onto the cushioned bench while she had attempted to reach for Henry. That was when everything turned into… this.

Gravity wheeled and sent her head spinning again as she struggled uselessly against what she refused to admit were fingers; what she refused to let herself believe was the oppressive strength of her being pulled and pushed into a palm, her legs and feet dangling and kicking until they too were wrapped and squeezed and restrained in that bizarre, pulsating way she had been struggling to process the entire time she was in that damp, tight dark.

She had thought for a brief time in that terrifying lightless sack that being able to breathe fresh air again might save her from feeling so sick and disoriented as the world around her had moved and spun and jumped and lurched and swung and compressed and…

Being out in the open air of-- she couldn’t bring herself to even try to grasp it-- proved that thought so very wrong. All it managed to give her was more air to scream with as she felt herself swinging through the air once more.

Everything was so loud.

Her feet collided with a hard, solid surface finally and all at once the constriction around her body released, leaving her free to do what she wanted. Which was, apparently, to scramble away from the moving shadows that were all around her while a cacophony of horrible noise was momentarily drowned out by an excessively loud, deeper sound.

“Melanie.”

Her hands leapt to slap against her ears and she slipped on whatever surface she had been placed on. “Wait, wait--” the voice continued, resonating through her chest even while it seemed to get quieter and quieter as she tried to gasp for air.

It was no use. Her screaming ceased, only because she couldn’t fight her lurching stomach any longer.

“Breathe, please… just breathe,” his voice came again, so strange and so different it would have been completely unfamiliar were it not for the tone; the rhythm. “I’ll speak quieter, you speak louder, and we’ll get through this.”

Despite her shaking she attempted to move herself into sitting up, or at least kneeling, a hand reaching for anything to brace herself with but staggering back into just holding herself off of the ground on all fours, shuffling herself further away from her own sick as she spluttered out coughs.

The owner of that rumbling voice went back to what must count as mumbling, even at that volume, muttering out worries and pleas and everything else before his voice raised with revelation.

“Ah, here--”

The shadows that had been moving all around and above her throughout this nightmare so far were suddenly no longer shadows, a loud clunking noise announcing the arrival of light just a couple of brief seconds before it flickered into the gargantuan space all around her.

Melanie finally looked up.

And up.

And up.

Then back down, her body curling in tightly against itself as if that would protect her somehow from this reality. This dream. This insanity.

“It’s me, it’s me!”

It may have been an attempt at reassurance, but it just made her cover her ears again. It was what happened next that finally offered her something of substance; something that could help her finally catch her breath.

As she cowered on what she could less and less deny was the counter of the galley, the presence of his hand had barely enough time to make her shiver before it was pressed fully against her back, his fingers curled and creating a canopy over her head that dimmed the light. Instantly, it felt so much better; instantly she was in a smaller space that wasn’t restrictive or terrifying. Instantly she was feeling honest, genuine comfort.

“There, there,” he tried to whisper, his voice like gusts of wind pushing against a sheltering wall in a storm, the comparison so easy to make as the ship rocked again with a wave and another, actual howl of wind. “It’s… you’re fine, breathe.”

Breathing was a struggle, but no longer impossible even as she quivered. There was no way for her to know how long it took her to stop shaking, only that by the time she had realised she had, Henry still clearly had not. With a deep, nearly gasping breath, she reached a hand above her head to rest on one of the fingers that was creating her shelter as the lights beyond it flickered again with the pounding sound of rain against the ship.

Melanie’s mind was ablaze with everything the sensation of his finger meant in this moment. Everything about it; the texture, the faint warmth still growing through the chill that lingered, the feeling of the muscles beneath shifting as it twitched and reacted to her own touch. His thumb dropped, sagging almost as it rested across her arm and her side, and she moved to touch the back of it instead, her hand shakily rubbing back and forth in some attempt to ground herself more.

“What happened?” She croaked out, eyes closed and flinching against the sounds of the nightmarish hurricane outside.

The sounds that obviously made it so he couldn’t hear her.

She cleared her throat with a few short coughs before trying again, shouting as loud as she was able to convince herself to, against every instinct she had trained over the last two years. “What happened?”

He let out a noise of surprise, stammering in a percussive way; a way that made her ribcage feel like it was resonating along with his words and utterings. “I… I don’t know, I can’t-- it just happened.”

His whispering was like the wind, but so much less threatening, so much less terrifying.

When she opened her eyes to finally look beyond what little safety she had, it took a moment to recognize exactly what she was seeing. His glistening-wet coat and wrinkled damp shirt shifted with his gigantic breaths, dark tendrils of dripping hair messily splattered or dangling across the fronts of both.

“...I was worried you’d say that,” she gathered the energy to shout to him, trying to make sense of just this little window of the massive new world around her. A world that was so familiar, not that long ago. A world that was supposed to be like home.

Her hand splayed and tensed against the back of his massive thumb as if to hold him down, her precious man-made lean-to tipping back as the view from her haven shifted dramatically before her. The startling blue-green shine of his eye absorbed all of her focus as she jumped back in her lying position, his hand tipping back down over her in response. “Sorry,” he muttered, raising his head back up so she could only see his chin and the coarse hairs that framed his mouth. “Am I really that frightening?”

“Yes!”

He sputtered out a surprised laugh that caused her to wince again, and he hushed himself as best as he was able. “I-- I was just trying to be funny,” he explained. “I’m also trying to see if you’re alright.”

“I’m not alright,” she said, loudly but less than shouting as she tried to hold back more coughs. “I-- this is--”

The words stopped. She couldn’t force out any that would make sense of any of this, so whatever had made it out simply hung there until the man around and in front and over her all at once heaved a sigh. “You still didn’t have to be so blunt,” he said under his breath after a moment, and the shock of that being his response in the face of everything else caught her with such force that she laughed as well.

“It’s true,” she called. “Why would you ask if you--”

“I don’t recall being that horrified by seeing you the first time like… this.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t! I--”

“No!” she shouted in this bizarre, distracting argument, trying to make sure she was loud enough for him to hear over his own oppressively loud voice. “You were panicked! You ran and hid behind a-- a towel, for God’s sake, you--”

“That was because I was naked,” he stated, his face shifting again in her little window to try and see her again. “Which, I’ll point out, you’re lucky enough not to be, so. I think I deserve a bit more credit.”

“Credit for what?” she shouted again, the absurdity of the conversation helping her let go of the terror of the situtation.

“For being kind, for one thing,” he replied, that giant mouth flashing into his cocky, lop-sided grin of a smirk before sliding out of her view and those eyes coming back into it. “And incredibly brave for another.”

“You drew a sword on me,” she said, her voice much more sheepish in that massive, unavoidable gaze, his gargantuan face turning to point an ear more toward her.

“You certainly just seemed like you’d have done the same,” he teased again. “You’re just lacking the opportunity.”

“I still have my dagger,” she called after checking her belt for it. There was an awkward pause, quieting them both amongst the calamity of the storm still pounding on the ship all around them. “I suppose I won’t be needing that anymore.”

“Keep it,” he said, those eyes lifting out of her view again as a non-smirking mouth reappeared. “But… yes, I imagine we won’t need the performance any longer. At least not from you.”

“...Oh god,” she breathed, another couple of coughs leaving her. Finally, she felt brave enough to try and sit up, her hands moving to try and guide his massive one away from her. Her eyes lingered on the texture of his fingers, the wrinkles and scars on his hands she had never seen before. Even as she blinked away the light as his hand moved away from her, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him in full. Not yet. “Do you-- are you the right…? For here, I mean, are we-- did we make it?”

His hand left the counter and she was alone there, trying not to look at him as his gigantic movements near her caused her to shiver from the size of them alone. “We’re somewhere I know, I’m sure,” he said in a mix of whistling, wind-like whispers and deep resonating words, creating such a strange emphasis while he spoke. “We passed barrier stones, so we must be on the shore of Vogunti, or perhaps if we’re too far south, Hostenia, but… I won’t know for sure if it’s anything I recognize until daybreak, at the least.”

Melanie took a peek only enough to see that Henry was fixing his wet hair, and distracted herself by trying to do something with her own just using her fingers. For the amount she had been in the wind and rain before all of this happened, on top of whatever happened when she had been confined to the dark and damp of his coat, it was useless and frankly painful to try and tame it right now.

“...I don’t know if I’m right or not,” he added with an exhausted-sounding laugh that made her flinch much less this time. “That will… that will also have to wait until daybreak.”

“How long will that be?” She asked, though his soft ‘hm?’ and the oppressively massive gesture of him leaning just slightly closer to listen better caused her to repeat it louder.

“I’ve not the faintest idea. At least five hours, I’d imagine? It was near nine when we hit the storm, if I remember correctly.”

His hands finished their work with his incredibly long hair, but instead of returning to her they dropped to his lap, somewhere beyond the little wall the counter had at the back by the bench seating. He was turned to face the other side of the boat now, the rise and fall of his chest more prominent as her eyes became braver and braver, taking in the massive sight of him piecemeal. 

“Keel’s gone,” he said after a moment in the quiet.

“I heard earlier,” she said, gathering herself to stand, trying to watch her footing as the wind sent what felt like small quakes through the whole boat.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out in shame, rubbing at his face and causing her to stagger back with the movement of even his most distant arm. “I-- am I quiet enough? Are you hurt? Did I-- when I grabbed you, was it--”

“Henry,” she said, staring at his familiar and strangely unfamiliar face, trying to make sense of the angle and the size and the detail versus the image she had had of him before. “It’s fine, I-- I’m not hurt, I don’t think, I--”

“You don’t think?” he asked, and his head turned to stare at her, both of them this time balking as their gazes met. “Melanie, if I hurt you--”

“You didn’t, I’m sure you didn’t,” she stammered out loudly, fighting the tightness in her chest that threatened to choke her words out. “I just-- it was a lot. It’s a lot. I’m still… this is still new.”

The mountain of a man continued to look at her, and she realised his pupils were moving, jittery and quick. He was looking at all of her, so quickly; so easily. Her arms wrapped around herself and she fidgeted, eyes dropping to his clothes again.

“I shouldn’t have,” he uttered again on an exhale that seemed like it could fill the whole room. “I shouldn’t have done that to you. The grabbing, the pocket, I-- but I didn’t have any other choice, I just--”

“It’s ok!” she called, stepping back and forth as she shook her head. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you’d left me in here, I don’t-- I don’t wanna think about it.”

Her eyes moved back up and up again to his face, meeting his startlingly giant gaze once more. “The pocket probably wasn’t so bad,” the insignificant woman on the counter admitted with an uncomfortable shrug. “It was just… fast, and dark. And wet-- it was… it was wet. That didn’t help.”

“Oh shit,” he swore, turning his attention down to the coat. “I-- did it soak through? I thought if you were inside it wouldn’t.”

“No, I don’t think any came from outside. I think it was just already damp from… everything else.”

“Well, the weath--”

Another crashing wave bumped the bottom of the vessel again, and the counter was nearly a springboard to her as it rocked aggressively upwards at a slant. Her arms had barely spread out to help her balance when a wall of a hand came sweeping toward her, a startled noise catching itself in her throat.

“Sorry, sorry!” he was babbling in his full voice again, the panic strong and clear. The ship finished landing back on its beached angle as the water outside receded, and she took deep breaths to slow her heart as she leaned against his fingers with her arms splayed over the tops of holding them close to her, relieved that he hadn’t closed them this time.

“Thanks,” she said, getting her balance and footing firmly again but finding herself reluctant to let his hand go.

He was just as reluctant to move it away.

“...As I was saying,” he continued with a chuckle that seemed to echo through his throat with a gritty texture to its sound, “the weather is shit.”

Melanie laughed, and whether he could hear it over the sound of another pounding of wind and rain above their heads, they both found themselves relaxing. A quiet, far more comfortable than the last, stretched between them and she found herself captivated by all of the details that were invisible to her for the last two years, now completely shocking to her in their size and texture both.

Meanwhile, Henry felt like the churning waves outside.

“...I don’t know what to do,” the man attached to the hand she was touching in long, slow sweeps of her fingers and palm said.

“Did you lose the sail?” the woman he watched move in such small and delicate ways asked, while he tried to imagine himself in her hands now.

His finger curled hesitantly inward to meet her touch. “I meant with you.”

Tiny hands grabbed his finger and rubbed the pad and the nail at the same time, exploring the textures of both. She didn’t reply. She didn’t even look at him. He spoke again.

“We should try to sleep.”

Her shoulders may have raised at that, and it upset him thoroughly that he couldn’t tell. His head tipped and turned, trying to find some kind of angle where he could see her expression without it being so obvious that he was staring.

“...Is the boat going to be safe?” 

“Would you like me to go drop anchor?” He asked, unable to help himself. The sour look she shot at his cocky grin was luckily an expression that didn’t often contain much subtlety. She turned her attention back to examining his hand, and he turned his attention back to watching her as he gave the question more serious thought. “The surge seems to be receding. The waves aren’t reaching as far, and not nearly as often as they were; we may still get a few rockings like this, but it won’t be enough to dislodge us.”

He looked to the floor and the water around his toes. “...If the rain keeps pushing in through that door, we may have something to contend with in the morning. I highly doubt it will get to the point of overtaking the cushions, but…”

“Where am I going to sleep?”

Clearly, she didn’t much care about the water.

Henry finally took a moment to really absorb his surroundings, fighting the strange overbearing sensation of claustrophobia as he continuously clocked where the ceiling was. He had never felt so cramped aboard the Massingill, or any of his other vessels, had he?

Everything was so… small now. Everything was like a toy to him, and his head ached as he looked at once familiar things and tried to grasp now that he could actually grasp them in a single hand if he wanted to. The sink faucet. The dislodged GPS. The cans of food and bottles of spices tipped sideways on their railed shelves.

The stairs and walkways they had built for him.

Before he could no longer fight the urge to bury his face in his hands and trying to hold his skull together around all of this insanity, his eyes fell on another item that otherwise would’ve sent him spiraling.

“The hammock?” he suggested weakly, and she turned to try and locate it near the forepoint behind him, past the sliding doors that had slipped ajar in their wrecking. Her mouth moved, that much he could see, but whatever swear it had been was too quiet for him to hear. “No?”

“I can’t,” she called louder, her voice so vastly different to the one he knew the best. “Not tonight-- not with the boat like this.” He had heard her almost like this, previously, when he had snuck away with her without her knowing; when she had no idea he was nearby, and didn’t feel the need to accommodate him like she would every time they spoke together.

He nodded, glancing around again for some kind of solution. “I suppose you’ll still want the bed, then,” he said lightly, that smirk tugging up one side of his lips.

“It’s my bed,” she called back, coughing a bit from the strain.

“You don’t need all of it,” he teased, lifting an eyebrow and cocking his head toward the higher end of the cabin. “Why not a quarter berth? You can have the whole thing-- the one without the extra lifejackets on it, even!”

“No!” she shouted, though he could hear her laughing in spite of herself. “I still want the forepoint, I just don’t want the hammock.”

“Fine,” he said, tossing his hands up like this was any other joking argument they were having in her kitchen while she cooked, or while they spent time sprawled beneath a tree in the backyard of her home. She staggered back from the motion, his eyes being drawn back to her doll-sized form again and he lowered them carefully with a wash of shame. It wasn’t enough to completely destroy what levity they had managed to find, however, as he added: “Will it be big enough for you?”

Melanie attempted to run her fingers through her hair again and he closed his eyes against the wave of memory of how her hair used to feel to his hands, thick silken threads sliding between his fingers. Now he could probably pinch the whole of her hair between two fingers. “...There’s room for one more,” she called to him, pulling him back to this wild dream.

“It’s not a hammock,” she added, arms hugging around themselves again as she started to take small steps on the counter.

“I know,” he said, sighing. He was finding it harder and harder to look away from her. “Are you-- would it be alright?”

“Of course it’s alright,” she sighed right back, shrugging. “It was never a problem, we just--”

“I don’t want to hurt you, like this.”

Henry had cut off her answer because it wasn’t what he had meant to ask her. He knew. He knew he had always been welcome. He knew that wasn’t the reason it had stopped. That wasn’t what he was asking about now.

She had tensed more into herself, somehow shrinking further. How had she ever dealt with this? How had she made it seem so natural and easy? All he wanted to do was comfort her, but he couldn’t simply wrap his arms around her fingers like he used to.

“You won’t,” she said in a voice he barely caught, repeating it louder and with a false confidence he could notice. “...Do you want the left side or the right side?”

“I’ll take your side so you can be close to the hammock, for when you come to your senses.” 

The giant man smiled at her, and the small woman smiled back, a strange pain just barely hidden behind both. The moment lingered, passing on to the point of having to take the next step. He waited for her to say it; it was the last thing he wanted to suggest.

“It doesn’t sound like it’s getting any nicer out there,” she said, looking up at the ceiling to listen to the next wave of pounding rain against it. He watched her knees seem to buckle as she did, her gaze promptly dropping back down, the woman steadying herself on the counter. “...Think you can get us to the bed?”

“What do you mean by that?” Henry’s brow furrowed over a skeptical, smirking expression. “I got us here, didn’t I?”

“Without a keel,” she stressed, smirking back, though even at their distance-- at her size-- he could see the exhaustion on her features now.

Henry lifted his hands up, bringing them slowly to the edge of the counter just past the little wall at the back of it, nearest him, one flat and the other tilted. Whatever bravado she had attempted to have for the joke evaporated instantly like a drop of water on a hot iron. He would wait; he didn’t want to grab her again.

“I-- Henry I don’t… I don’t think…”

“It’ll be fine, you can sit if you--”

It was, in truth, a much smaller knock of a wave than the boat had suffered previously since he had landed her on the beach, but it was still enough to have her stumble and yelp. His hand had moved instinctively, nearly knocking into her as she seemed to roll against it and throw her arms over the top.

“Please,” she begged after the vessel had settled on its rocky bed again. “Can you… like you did for the pocket. Just… just take it slow.”

“But--”

“Please, Henry,” she said louder, not able to look up at him, and clutching his hand even tighter to her body.

It felt wrong. It felt so wrong to do it. It had been something he would have hated had she done it to him, and instead she was asking for it again.

His fingers closed around her, thumb and forefinger under her arms as she finally relented her grasp on him, as small as it was. His mouth opened to stammer out excuses, more argument-- perhaps she was just lacking confidence. Perhaps he could make her feel better, feel safer. Perhaps he could make her do this any other way.

She was so delicate. So fragile.

How had she done this? Any of this?

How had he, when he was in her position?

It had been so natural when they had done it even just hours ago. It had been natural for nearly years. Now they were negotiating back and forth with words and movements like one wrong move could set off a keg of powder. He twisted his hand, she shifted to correct him. “Am I squeezing too much?” “No.” “Now?” “No. Keep your fingers where I put them.”

Finally they were both as happy as they would be with how he was holding her, and he wondered if his heart being in his throat had any effect on the pulse that was thundering back against her ribcage. He hadn’t thought of this-- any of this-- the first time. He had simply grabbed her small, squirming body, an mere fistful of a person, and dropped her into his pocket while his mind had directed him to seventy other, ‘more important’ things.

He didn’t notice until he started to lift her that her eyes were closed, and closed tight. Had they been closed this whole time?

Melanie’s chest stretched and pressed against the flesh of his hand in rapid rhythm, her arms and hands gripping desperately over the back of his thumb and clinging to a fingernail. He heard her make a sound-- some kind of yelp of whimper and stopped his movement as her legs dangled and tensed and fidgeted out past his smallest finger, the whole of her waist and hips and the tops of her thighs in his horrendously diffident grip.

“Don’t stop!”

Henry blinked at the sound of her near bark of a command, her terror literally sensational to him in every aspect. He swept her further up, another less loud and less sudden shout of “not so fast!” giving him the kind of helpful direction he needed. Then… he was holding her.

Her entire self was in his hand. Tense, but not panicking or flailing as she had before, and tipped just slightly back into his palm with her eyes closed tightly; every muscle taught as they could be around him.

Of all the times he had humoured the thoughts of swapping positions with her, not once had he imagined this. Not once had he even wondered what this could be like or feel like from this perspective. For all the faults he was quick to pinpoint and address and correct as he was able, never was there a thought of being in these shoes.

His other hand had moved without thought to support her legs, his thumb almost mindlessly running over the tops of her thighs and knees in an attempt to get her to relax and unbend them. Her chest expanded with a gasp he didn’t hear at his touch, and she tensed even more at first before relenting.

Still, her eyes would not open.

He didn���t want them to. 

Not yet. Not while he was unable to stop staring at her in a way which he knew he had been subject to so many times over the last two years. Gawked at. Inspected. Henry had hated the feeling of it then, and likely still would now, regardless of how much he suddenly felt himself empathizing with them all.

“I’ll take it slow,” he whispered, his thumb caressing softly over her shins for lack of anything better to do while he still held her steady with his other hand.

Melanie nodded, her arms flexing so strongly against him for her size, in spite of all of the frailty she looked like she should possess.

His eyes hardly left her even as he made his way to their once massive berth, only relenting his delicate hold of her legs enough to maneuver the sliding door and close it behind them. Stooping lower over the mattress and its tangle of blankets and sheets, the pillows nowhere near where they typically were, he did his best to gently position her into sitting on the side that was nearest his ridiculous, shamefully small hammock where it swung with the latest tiny bump of a wave. Fingers opened and slid away, her hands trying to hold him until the last second when she seemed to settle herself properly on the cushiontop.

“Thank you.”

It was probably her second attempt at saying it, and still it had nearly not made it to him.

“Get yourself situated,” he said to her. The directions of a Captain. The soft voice of a friend. “I’ll make the last checks, hang my coat, and then I’ll be in.”

Those tiny dots he knew were supposed to be hazel opened and took their time to look up at him, bouncing across the features of his face and between his own two eyes. She nodded, her tiny hand clutching at the blanket beneath her like it was a life preserver.

Henry smiled, a finger tapping the mattress through the blankets in lieu of letting himself say anything further. Then, he took a deep breath, and stood himself back up.

…Promptly knocking his head into the ceiling.

At least she laughed at that.

[vicsbasement]

Is the scene in the new snippet taken from the Maria/grief fic? :P

You absolutely caught me. It is! I don't know, there's something about that moment in time for me that compels me to write it over and over again. I keep going back to it because I remember that first time we saw the picture of Charles and Carlos driving out of Maranello and to see Charles there-- they already knew, you know? And they couldn't say because there wasn't anything official. But there's this whole headcanon in my head that Charles didn't, couldn't, let Carlos go through this alone because the announcement wasn't supposed to come this early, right. So when Carlos called he picked up. When Carlos needed him, he went. I don't know. Anyway! I did say you'd win another snippet so this is another one for clingy!charles. Enjoy! Carlos was sure that nothing was amiss. He was sure that Roberto just got in his head, but—as he stumbled out of his car in FP2, Charles was the one to grab his arm to stop him from falling. Why was Charles there?

“Hello, mate!” Charles says; a light tone to his voice, cheerful and sweet. Almost too light, like it was forced gentleness. Carlos would be suspicious if he didn’t feel like he was about to hurl.

“Care to hand me over to Gigi? I’m not feeling too well.” Carlos declares, a bit of his polite front waning when another roll of nausea hits him as Charles removes his hands from his back. Carlos starts to take off his helmet and balaclava, hating the sensation of the fabric dragging against his sensitive skin.

“Fred told me this.” Charles sounded… admonishing, like he wanted to make Carlos feel bad for not telling him he’d been having a hard time keeping his food down since yesterday. “You guys heard him, where’s Gigi?” Charles gets something in his eyes when he turns serious. Carlos has seen it a couple of times before, even directed at himself, but his garage—well. It’d come alive with his instructions, with Charles’ tone.

Two mechanics scrambled out of his seat to look for Pierluigi as Charles grabbed Carlos’ arm again and made him sit in a corner. When Carlos felt he wasn’t about to keel over, he let his body fold into himself and his back curved. Carlos just wanted to sleep. The pounding in his head was worsening, the nausea came back with a vengeance, and Charles was looking for—his isotonic drink, of course. That would help a little with the nausea.

“It’s behind you.” Carlos said, and Charles turns sharply and grabs the drink, offering him the straw between pinched-tight fingers. Carlos doesn’t hesitate, but Charles seems to notice the gesture—his fingers a little too close to Carlos’ lips and mouth, so he recoils, albeit gently.

“Thanks.” Carlos murmurs, and Charles nods. He looks fidgety, like he wants to help more but he doesn’t know how. Pierluigi must be looking for medicine to stop the nausea, that’s probably why he wasn’t close, maybe he went to the Ferrari hospitality for his medikit. Charles seems to get an idea and looks for a wet towel, and hands it to Carlos. The heat is stifling and it’s making everything worse, his mouth fills with liquid and Carlos feels like he’s about to throw up in front of the whole garage, when he feels Charles’ gentle hands press the ice-cold towel to his forehead.

“They told me you had a fever?” Charles asks, sheepish. He removes the towel for a second and replaces it with his hand, looking for the pulse point right behind his eyebrows and using his wrists to gauge the temperature. “I shouldn’t have put the towel before, I don’t know if you’re still—”

“I think I am, yeah.” Carlos says. Charles is using both his wrists to gauge his temperature, now, he’s basically cradling Carlos’ head between them. And Carlos gets a good look at Charles; the frown, the pursed lips, the demeanor, and Teto’s voice echoes through his head.

“He’s clingy.” He remembers. But this is not clingy, this is just worried. Right? Just worried.

Pierluigi arrives at that moment and sees Charles cradling Carlos’ head. He raises an eyebrow, a silent question, and Carlos just shrugs as Charles makes space for Pierluigi to lean down and ask him about his symptoms.

As Carlos is trying to recall what’s causing him discomfort he feels how his mouth fills with liquid again, he starts slurring his words, the world turns on its axis and he feels as he’s fading slowly away, the last thing in his vision Charles’ expression of  utter worry.

[shelfthe-reader]

So since I had 21 people ask/beg me for sentences in the WIP Wednesday community so I’ve decided to put them all here. And if you see this and you’re not part of the game? Well Merry Christmas here are some 9-1-1 fic snippets for fics that I’m actually gonna finish.

Sentence Count: 63

Word Count: 587

BUCKLEYS TAKE LA???? (Daniel lives/all three Buckleys are First Responders in LA) (12 sentences, 136 words) - @aparticularbandit @auburnlaughter @violet-prism-creatively @enigma-the-mysterious

“Okay,” Evan repeated slowly.  And it really was.  If he could say one thing about Daniel Buckley, it was that he was always true to his word. Even growing up, through all of the uncertainty surrounding Danny’s cancer, he never broke a promise.  “I’m gonna- ” Evan jerked his head towards the front door.  Danny shooed him away and Evan weaved through the house to his room. It was small, a little larger than a closet, with only one small window that he couldn’t truly open.  But the room was cozy. It was his. Looking back, he should have pushed harder in wanting to move into Maddie’s old room after she married Doug. Instead, he relished in the idea of having something - anything - that wasn’t Danny’s before him.  The perks of being the unwanted kid, he figured.

F*** Bobby Nash: The Fic (Lawsuit fic where Buck goes to Austin)(15 sentences, 171 words)- @twyrewolf @wizisbored @quietly-sleeping @hurricanebreeze @loyal-house-of-lupin

At that moment, the only way Buck could describe the interior of the 126 was spacious. Even under construction, he could see the potential. Wait, did they have a locker room, with real doors? And not in the bay? Interesting.  Stationed in the middle of the room, sat two men, almost as figureheads of the operation. One, Buck assumed, was Captain Strand. He had the air of authority, clear to all around him that he’d done this a time or two.  Buck had a harder time figuring out the other. He was younger by at least twenty years, most likely a few more - too young to be the lieutenant. But he had a stack of paperwork the same size as the Captain.  As he approached the table, the younger man looked up, and Buck caught a resemblance between him and Captain Strand. His son, perhaps? But, either way, by the look on the guy’s face, Buck wasn’t sure if he liked him. It reminded him of the scowl he received from his parents far too often.

Re-evaluate Your Decisions Bestie (FBN but Eddie’s POV)(24-ish sentences, 180 words) - @eriquin @somefishycat @oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin @kalira @lizhly

@kallisto-k @whimsicalmeerkat @tiercell

When was the last time you chose to care about our Buck?” Eddie flinched at Carla’s words. Words that he never thought the kind, caring Carla would say to him. It was bad enough that he was already accused of not giving a shit by his coworkers, but by Carla? It was a stab in the gut. It wasn’t like he did any of it on purpose. If anything, Buck was the one that started it. Eddie, well- Eddie just started to spiral. He lost control of his own actions. Maybe if Buck actually talked to him, things would be different. But they weren’t. “Carla, it’s not- ” “It’s not what, Eddie? What is it ‘not?’ What is it ‘not’ that Buck and the Fire Chief have asked me to tell you all that Buck has put in for a transfer?” What? “A transfer?” Bobby tentatively asked.  ”Carla, what-,” Eddie’s voice cracked. “What do you mean? ” He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have, even if- “He left, Eddie. And if I’m not mistaken, I think you have something to do with it.”

IVE GOT YOUR BACK (Navy SEAL!Buck secret relationship)(12 sentences, 100 words)- @tamsinswriting @zyrafowe-sny @asha10100101010 @1attheedge

(CW: This is a scene of a woman giving birth. Because of COURSE this scene would be the one I write for my first week here. It’s not graphic because I don’t really want to describe it. But just a precaution because context) (Snippet under cut)

“I’m so sorry Shannon,” Eddie apologized properly, tears welling up in his eyes. Here his best friend was, crying in pain because of his actions.  Shannon groped for his hand and squeezed it.  “Yeah, yeah. But it’s my own fault, Diaz. No need to cry over my decision making skills. Save the tears for when you actually see your child.” Eddie swiped the tears carelessly from his eyes with a small snort.  A nurse decided that now would be a good time to interrupt their little moment.  “Okay Mrs. Diaz- ”  “Not married,” both Shannon and Eddie said.  “-Shannon,” the nurse amended.

[kestgrey]

Odell Beckham Jr. + inspiration behind the character, Adonis, who appears in my MXM erotic short story called, "Scene Study". You can check it out and read here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CNHFN8QC I HIGHLY recommend this one!!

Plot: Meet Kyrie, an aspiring and burgeoning actor who's still fairly new in his theatre class. He's tasked with participating in an important two person scene project. It sounds simple enough, except he's paired with Adonis, a veteran in the class. Not to mention, he's the popular, alluring titan who all the girls clamor for. This not only sets some expectations, but also a wave of anxiety considering...their practice will be taking place in Adonis's home. Kyrie initially feels like practice is going well, but is suddenly deviated. Is it a possibility that something other than the scene work linger above both men?

Snippet below ⬇️

“…Beautiful,” Adonis responded, but did so in a low voice as his eyes remained on the video.

Kyrie squinted his eyes some as he noticed his scene partner not immediately meeting his attention, rather instead, engrossed in the phone. He couldn’t hear what was said, “Huh?”.

“Oh, my bad, yeah it’s really good forreal,” Adonis finally added upon snapping out if it, now meeting the look of Kyrie. “Come take a look at it,” he suggested as he waved him over.

Kyrie produced a small smile, internally happy to hear that. He casually strolled over, now sharing the same area as him. The thick index finger belonging to Adonis tapped on the screen and regressed the video player to the very beginning. Kyrie’s performance began to play, volume resonating through the speaker. Adonis stood close to him, watching again as if he hadn’t seen it from the start. As each second passed, the smile that had cultivated on Kyrie’s lips expanded. He was truly even impressed with what he was seeing, to the point where he was shocked. In class this wasn’t something he could achieve as easily; he was still learning. It seemed perhaps that the current environment he was in provided some level of comfortability that he did not expect.

“Wow, that’s actually me?” he said, adding a little chuckle to go with that smile.

“Hell yeah that’s you, you killed it,” Adonis affirmed, nudging the other. “It’s always been in you, Ms. Rey be a lil off sometimes,” he teased.

“Haha not you said she’s off, well thank you for that. I’m trying to work on it in class, but for some reason, you pulled it right out of me,” Kyrie vocalized his appreciation at the compliment.

“No problem at all,” Adonis simply responded. There was another pause hanging over the both of them, with him still looking at the video nearing its ending.

Kyrie did the opposite and suddenly turned his gaze to the other. He found himself getting caught up in his countenance. There was a question that he felt forming inside, inching its way to make an escape from his mouth. “Can I ask you something though? What made you want to help me with this?” he inquired.

Adonis finally dispelled his stare from the camera, meeting Kyrie’s look. “Well- “, a genuine smile constructed on his face before he continued. “To be honest, I had it on my mind since we got partnered up. I knew you were gonna be a good one ever since you stepped foot in our class. But based off how you carried yourself, I knew you weren’t aware of it just yet. I want all of us to win, especially you. Kyrie ya got some pure talent” he admitted.

Kyrie couldn’t help but widen the eyes on his expression. He couldn’t have predicted a confession like that, especially coming from Adonis. He was always under the impression that their connection was more surface compared to others. “W-Wow…I really can’t even fully come up with anything to say. Thank you. I had no idea that you were paying attention like that,” Kyrie answered, doing his best to speak through bewildered words.

“Yeah, I was. Like I said, I feel like all of us need to win and I couldn’t help but pick up on what you can really do. I was gonna make some way for you to see it. I wasn’t shocked that the camera loved you,” before continuing Adonis tailed his final statement with a lower register in his tone. “…You’re amazing,” he lowly spoke. The man amplified the smile he created, now emphasizing the shared glances between them. He unintentionally forced another standstill in the air to appear between them also.

Kyrie remained there as well, surveying the lightened, brown color that embedded Adonis’s skin. He never denied how attractive he thought he was, but due to the judgements he had already made, he never really thought about him in any other way besides someone to hang out with in the group.

“Um, wow. Well again I- “the words Kyrie desperately tried to muster up were completely halted by another shocking gesture, he seemed to be ridden with them quite a bit today.  

Adonis was the culprit who stopped his speech. There was something in the stout man that possessed him to reach down and plant a kiss on Kyrie’s lips. While genuine, it seemed to be chaste in nature. Adonis slightly pulled back, only inches away from Kyrie’s. It seemed like he did so in order to test the waters. When it was planted on the anxiety ridden guy, it spearheaded a warmth through his entire body. Despite Kyrie being surprised, it was a more on the pleasant side of the spectrum. His eyes trailed from Adonis’s pupils down to his lips.

Kyrie naturally felt some hesitation forming, however, there was something internally that had him combating it. This was rare in nature for him, but he took on an impetuous disposition and launched forward, returning a kiss of his own. Both men seemed to intuitively know how to operate as the kiss turned more passionate this time around. Adonis was able to seamlessly fall into it with him. Both of their lips now intertwined with each other more. Adonis was certainly pleased at the other’s follow through, considering he initiated it. It had been something he wanted to start from the moment his scene partner walked through the door. Now the fervor embedded in him now could be physically expressed. As they were both siphoning a taste of each other’s lips, Adonis instinctively reached down and grabbed at Kyrie’s lower back. It led to him utilizing his usual dominant nature and he proceeded with pushing him closer, now colliding their bodies into each other.

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

Happy Birthday David Dastmalchian 🎂🎉🎁🎈

To celebrate, I'm stealing borrowing from my friend's @polkadotjohnson amazing idea of making a Top 10 Loved/Hottest roles of his, with an honourable mention for both~ Here's 30 of my most adored characters of his with little snippets for each, it's a looooong read, and if anyone else wants to make their own, here's a tierlist I made for this exact purpose 💗💗💗

10.

💘 Love of my Life - Dr Fearless

My cringefail boyfriend, I love every single headcanon I hear about him. He was so damn cute even before I fell in love, and now every time I see him I start giggling and kicking my feet lol 😚 I adore how much fun DD has with him, and honestly I’m gunna dress as a vampire for Halloween this year /)w(\ been like 20+ years but I really really wanna do it!

🔥 Hottest Role - Whistling Marauder (Bird Box)

Mother of mercy. We rewatched the whole movie just for him, so naturally he shows up near the end and then died ;w; but that outfit, holy hell. Oh my god. I’m such a sucker for bad boys and this guy is going around forcing people to stare at this eldrich being that’ll destroy you or drive you mad. And he looks goddamn great while doing it. Gunna attach myself to the chain on his jeans. Okay I’m normal again, what a way to start off the list lmao

❣️ Honourable Mention - Luke (Singled Out)

Douchebag. Shitty brother who’s also great if only to save his own ass. Thief. Pure idiot. Irresistible. I knew the moment I saw the clips on youtube that he would so be my type, and seeing the full pilot only proved that. Dude picked a burger over getting his sister, he would treat me so wrong half the time, but then he’d make me waffles and it’d be all better 😊

9.

💘 Love of my Life - The Writer (Making Love)

This one breaks my heart so much. I’ve been in a relationship like this before, and I really want to save him from his. He’s beautiful, he’s talented, his outfit is hot as hell with all the rings and bracelets and necklaces, not to mention the undone shirt buttons, he’s got the emo bangs, he is the complete package for me. The only reason he isn’t higher is because I fell for many others first. I almost never watched this one because my brain was going haywire trying to imagine what kinda scenes I’d find in something with a title like that, and sure enough my face was so red the entire time since I watched with headphones and it starts with him whispering right in my ear, like him asking, ‘Do you love me?’ nearly made me cry, I love him so much. If I could bring specifically him to life I would love the hell outta him until he stopped needing such a painful, self-destructive fake love with the Woman QwQ

❣️ Honourable Mention - Nick (Love is an Elevator)

This one is just a silly little guy /)w(\ right from the start he’s so adorable, I would melt if anything even close to his interaction happened to me, and him just swooning and saying she was beautiful before bailing in tears is so me-coded TwT I would love to go out on a date with him!

🔥 Hottest Role - Abra Kadabra (The Flash)

Abra was so tricky to place because I love him, but as soon as I remembered his buckle outfit from his second episode I knew he had to go under Hot. Like, again, I’m so weak. I love his attitude, I love how he just wants that applause for his showmanship, his ‘powers’ are cool as hell, and DD has the wand in his home now and I think that’s so damn cool ���� The reveal with him wanting to bring back his alternate timeline family was so sweet I almost cried, and he definitely didn’t deserve to be killed out so instantly right after his redemption. Not even a fan/watcher of the show, but in my head I’m having Flash warn him about it since he’s from the future, so he’s fine now 😌

8.

💘 Love of my Life - James Lewis (Teacher)

James was also incredibly difficult to place because I love him so much ;w; The entire movie I was rooting for him, guy did nothing wrong in the face of what was going on around him, and granted he did take things too far, but… villains are hot 😳 so I won through that entire movie. And he lived! And kept getting to teach! I remember I pointed at the screen when he was putting books away cause that’s my job lol I felt truly close to him in that short moment 😂 Anyway, Arabella didn’t deserve him, like she wasn't into it from the moment they met, every single time he talked she would do this 😬 guy was going through hell and was very clearly in a bad place all around, I can’t fault him for drunkenly saying the wrong thing if it were me, even if it did really hurt me. Gunna give him a new wedding ring to put on when he gets outta prison.

❣️ Honourable Mention - Hector (Premature)

He’s so cute!!! I may be weak for villains, but I adore his sweeter roles as well, I’m so glad I got to see him. If I moved to a new city and he was my neighbour I’d know I’d be okay, because honestly he needs to be my roommate like yesterday. A chef who’s afraid to cook because of OCD, I’m sure he’d be able to help me with my own cooking from a safe distance, and I already have some practice as my sibling has OCD and is very strict about how her food is handled, so I’ll have come full circle. I just need to make him more okay with cuddles first…

🔥 Hottest Role - Denham (A Killer of Men)

Denham was another one that was hard to place, because that axe twirls makes me insane, but with what little screentime he gets it all evens out. Another great villain, he’s just senseless violence in a bloody wedding dress and he works it. Love the look, love the vibe, if the world ended and the whole gang was coming at me I’d be honoured if he was the one who got me (I swear I’m not that deranged lmao just thirsty)

7.

💘 Love of my Life - Simon Lynch (Almost Human)

Even now I feel like Simon should be higher, especially since I’ve written my fic about him as well as my deep dive. I’ve said it before but my heart really went out to him, the deep dive says way more than I can fit it here, which probably means he should be higher lol so give that (and maybe the fic too 👉👈😌) a read if you haven’t already, all my love for him went into both.

❣️ Honourable Mention - James Harris (The Employer)

Another adorable character, the bar flashbacks had me blushing every time. We all knew it’d be him, but I’m so glad he pulled through at the end. I want this one to be happy, especially after everything he went through. Absolutely cutiepie, gunna be the one to pay for his dinner after he gets home 😊

🔥 Hottest Role - Dwight Pollard (Gotham)

Since I go into all of his roles blind, I had no idea what to expect for this one, but from the start I was hooked. Having him be a crazed cult leader with the biggest, most feral smile and laugh ever stole my heart the things I would let this man do to me sakndskjds I liveblogged his eps to a friend of mine who’s seen Gotham and has been trying to get me to watch it for ages cause I love DC, so she was thrilled as I sat here screaming about everything leading up to his ending :’D I’ve gotten some encouragement to write him, so when I do it’s gunna be so insane I’ll have to tag the hell outta it lmao (btw making these gifs nearly killed me oh my god I need him)

6.

💘 Love of my Life - Joshua Whitmore (Cass)

All the pain I went through trying to get this movie was worth it because it all led to him. I love him, I adore him, I’m so incredibly glad that so many others got to see him and love him too thanks to my trials and tribulations. DD’s only artist role, I got to connect with him on a personal level not shared with the others, and my desire to make sure he’s safe and taken care of is so strong that I wrote 26k about him, they’re two of my most favourite things I’ve ever written. I’ve thrown the ending of the movie out and completely placed it with my own, which can be found in my fics, and until Hugh Schulze DMs me personally and tells me what his vision was, that’s what I’m sticking with forever. So rest easy, he’s free from New York and buyers and dealers and the street and he’s safe and happy and painting again ;w;

❣️ Honourable Mention - Thomas Schiff (The Dark Knight)

The OG, a lot of people’s first roles of his, including mine. I remember seeing this movie in theaters when it came out so that means I saw him up there, on the big screen, and something about him stuck around in my brain until I finally realized my love QwQ Even if he isn’t as fleshed out in my mind to make the actual list, I still needed to include him in some way, I hope he got placed somewhere that wasn't Arkham after Batman stepped in.

🔥 Hottest Role - Cam (Relaxer)

I will never watch Relaxer again. Couldn’t even do it while I was making his scenepack cause so many horrible things happen to Abbie I couldn’t take it. But Cam, oh my god, I need this man. Someday I wanna write this huge fic about the reader trying to date him, and there’s no redemption. He’s still terrible at the end. But that’s what we all love about him, how shitty he is and how the potential is there for him to make us all worse. He sucks, but in the best way, and I kinda need him to maybe bully me please 😳 (making that first gif nearly made me blackout why is he doing pushups)

5.

💘 Love of my Life - Bob Taylor (Prisoners)

When I started adding names to my list of men I loved, Bob wasn't even on it at first I think, despite liking him in the movie. Then I saw more with him and added him to crushes. Now I’m fully in love with him, and he breaks my heart every single day. He was hurting for so long, even when we were watching I couldn’t place the blame on him while the rest of my family were convinced just like Loki that he was the one, but no matter what I couldn’t. The second I saw his sweet smile I told them there was no way it was him, and sure enough I was right. Another character who didn’t deserve what happened to him, I’ve been slowly helping him with my headcanons, but in my personal queue I have a fic planned for him and he will have no more sad days when I do 😭 I also have a bunny plush I’d had for years, my dad bought it for me and it’s been sitting on my bed ever since, and when I’m sad I hold it and pretend Bob gave it to me, it’s honestly got me through some much needed therapy because if he could go about his day with that kind of trauma then I could be brave and call about my own mental health :’)

❣️ Honourable Mention - Lonny Crane (The Belko Experiment)

This one’s a bit of a double whammy, cause I love him, but the switch to violence had me staring 👀 Either way, he didn’t deserve his death, but since it is a killing game type movie he was doomed from the start, at least his seemed instant 🥺 Someday I’ll write a fixit for him too, it was just too much for him back to back to back, he really didn’t deserve his final moments to have him as a villain even though I would really love to be lifted up like that aklskjdskds okay I’m normal again

🔥 Hottest Role - Ray Watkins (The Rookie)

Have you seen this man? No really, have you seen him? The twirl, the shirt lifting on his hips, the cold but also fun villainy, the nonchalance to mask the cruelness underneath. I need him. This one is not a Want, he is a Need and I need him. I hope that he gets to come back in the future to fully wrap up his plot along with the cop’s plot, pleasepleaseplease, otherwise I will die unsatisfied.

4.

💘 Love of my Life - Kurt Goreshter (Ant-Man 1-2)

I believe he might’ve been the second role I’d ever seen, but only after I really got into the MCU after Endgame. I skipped Ant-Man in my original watches, since I was mostly just into the Avengers and Cap (mainly Bucky lol) in general, but when I finally did a full marathon I really enjoyed the first movie. Cannot remember my feelings for him now since it’s been about 4 years, but I do know when I went back to rewatch in March I fell the second I saw him 🥰 the hair, the accent, the outfit AGAIN, and those hand tattoos, this is another Perfect Man. My crush on him is incredibly strong, it told me that yeah I was really starting to fall for DD (at that point I’d just seen Demeter a few times, and then Oppenheimer on accident) and it officially kicked off my marathon that eventually led me to my collection I have today. 

❣️ Honourable Mention - Lester Billings (The Boogeyman)

My family actually watched this without me way before my crush began, so when I saw he was in it I just had to finally sit down and watch it myself. Cue me hurriedly typing to my sibling when he showed up lol this man is SAD! He’s so beautiful and sad, I just wanna make a new family with him (I would be a parent for him, that’s the extent of my love) so he can be happy again. I love the backstory I made up for him way more than the original story, sorry Stephen King but you made him awful and I don’t want that one. I’m gunna save this man and he WILL smile again, that’s a Ray Guarantee.

🔥 Hottest Role - The Vampire (Cora)

Now, to start, this one falls prey to Very Bad Writing Choices. I will not deny that. Like, even with the allegory of the whole thing (that I did not see cause I just saw a short vampire story honestly) it's very much Not Good. But that’s why I’m removing him from the short and keeping him. In fact, go read polkadotjohnson’s fics on him, they’re fantastic and I adore how she wrote him. I someday wish to do my own, because otherwise everyone who can’t look past the Very Bad Writing Choices are getting straight up robbed of this one. Those double fangs need to introduce themselves to my neck pronto, you see what I’m saying? He’s so goddamn hot, DD needs to play a very serious vampire role again so everyone can see the Vision, he wants to do it, I need to win the lottery so I can fund this movie myself, that’s my new life’s goal.

3.

💘 Love of my Life - Jack Delroy (Late Night With the Devil)

The first movie I saw in theaters after my crush began! My friend saw him in a tweet about it and linked me to it so I thought it was already out, but I ended up having to wait two weeks and it nearly killed me ;w; I went in completely blind, which is good cause the trailer spoils so many great shots unfortunately, and the entire time I was swooning. Like, I usually whisper to my sibling during movies if we have comments, we’re very talkative at home when we watch stuff, but this time I was just sitting there staring with hearts in my eyes without pause. I’m in love with this man, plain and simple, I’m so glad I was able to get to see it since it didn’t come to the theater closest, we had to drive an hour away and when dad joked about me paying for the tickets since I was the one who wanted to see it, I did in a heartbeat. I wanted to see it again, but it was only there a couple weeks, so by the time I was able to go it was gone and I’m still upset about it. I’d sell my soul for this man, I love writing for him so much, I’m so glad my crush on Wojchek bloomed just in time for me to see this.

❣️ Honourable Mention - Hank (Virgin Alexander)

I avoided this one at first because the trailer was making me cringe and I was going crazy over what kinda sexy awkward role he’d have in it, but I was pleasantly surprised in the end. I think the movie is actually cute, despite some stuff still making me cringe, and Hank is literally the most perfect boyfriend. If he showed up randomly in my life I would date him in a second, hands down. He’s so shaped like a friend, I know I’d always have fun with him even when we’re not Having Fun, and that’s all you can ever ask for in a relationship 😊

🔥 Hottest Role - Breck Montanari (Double Black)

Okay first of all I gave him that last name. Second of all, I wrote 70k about this man and I am so in love with him that I own him now. I’ve taken him from Sara Woomer, he’s mine now. He has a full past, gave him a future and a partner, there’s no way I couldn’t have fallen in love with him. Unfortunately that fic will never be shared as it’s private, but know that, again, until Sara Woomer DMs me personally and shares everything else about this world, this is my new canon for him. And the cult. And the entire area where he lives. And several of the members. And the new Double Black who was such a chill dude that I made my bff love him too. This is my secret legacy. He only lost out to my #2 because there’s no way he couldn’t be my #2.

2.

💘 Love of my Life - Wojchek (The Last Voyage of the Demeter)

The reason I finally learned his name QwQ I went into this movie blind, dad really wanted to see it and I love horror so I went with him, and the second I saw him I said, ‘Oh that guy! I know that guy!’ since by then I’d seen Kurt and Abner a few years earlier and vaguely remembered him. I spent the whole movie then dreading his end thanks to the opening lines, and I’m pretty sure I quietly yelled at the screen when he fell and then got got after praying he’d be okay TwT After Abner, he’s the first DD role I ever shipped with, and when my crush officially restarted I ended up writing my entire plot for him and Addy that night before bed. I love him so much, he’s my jolly sailor bold who stole my heart by crying over the thought of having to lose his home. He’ll forever own a special place in my heart because of all this, I can’t imagine anyone else taking this spot.

🔥 Hottest Role - Murdoc (MacGyver 2016)

Murdoc was the first TV role of his I checked out after I saw as many movies as I could that interested me (mostly all the ones on Prime sans a couple, my collection was very very small by then) and the moment I saw him be mentioned I was ready to go. The Alice in Wonderland vague text, running and then getting shocked before falling two floors, showing up with that hair, I was not prepared for everything else they were about to throw at me. Murdoc is one of my most favourite characters now, he’s so much fun, I adore everything about him, I’ve only edited with him twice and written him once, but I need to do both so much more! This one is hot as fuck, he’s adorable, he loves his son, he’s got tools, he’s utterly sadistic, he’s a silly little guy. This is another Perfect Man, I cannot wait to decide on his plot with Addy because there’s too many fun possibilities I honestly might just make multiple.

❣️ Honourable Mention - Willy Cunningham (The Domestics)

Now… you might all be thinking… why the hell is this guy a #2 honourable mention in the face of all the others… and the answer is… I’m a freak 😀 I’ll never say, but my eyes were opened to him, and my god, I will literally never be the same. I just need him and that insanely feral energy okay, lemme have this.

1.

💘 Love of my Life - Abner Krill (The Suicide Squad)

The love that started it all, I think I fell for him the moment he walked outta his cell and got teased. The love I feel for him goes so deep, it only compares to one other, and whenever I work on my plot for him and Addy I always get choked up. The ultimate one who didn’t deserve what he got, I actually refused to watch the movie again after he died, straight up did not watch until my marathon started, and as soon as I saw him in that cell it all came back. I instantly fell back in love with him, and thus his Addy plot has the most love put into it to make sure he’s happy and safe. I thought that maybe there’d be another to win my heart as my marathon grew, but nope he’s still there sharing it with my other #1, and seeing him can instantly bring a smile to my face no matter how I’m feeling. 

After the movie I read the trivia again and my crush on DD himself began, so it’s all thanks to him and Wojchek that I’ve met the people I know today and have created so many things in such a short time. When I hit my lowest low in years I just sat at my desk and held the funko I have of him and just cried it all out, and it honestly helped me get out of that spiral. Thanks to him I now have a Polka-Dot Man collection (still missing one figure and maybe a signed print and poster 👉👈🥰) and if I could get a plushie of him to join the ton I already have I’d buy him in a second. Maybe someday, if I have any courage, I’ll bring my funko or something to a con where DD is attending and get it signed, either him or my other #1, and I’ll cherish it forever.

❣️ Honourable Mention - Jude (Animals)

Like all the others, I went into this movie completely blind. I didn’t know DD wrote it or its significance to him until after it was over and the credits rolled. So the entire time I was watching I was falling in love with him, he was so incredibly my type in the moments he was actually happy that it’s insane, I spent the whole movie just saying how much I would date him in better circumstances. We were sadly betting which one of them was going to die as things just got worse, me and my sibling were watching so miserably, and then we were rewarded with a happy ending despite the bittersweetness. And then the credits rolled, after me repeatedly wondering why he’d accept a role like this after knowing at least about his addiction and it all fell into place. I haven’t been able to watch again so far now that I know a lot of what happened to Jude also happened to him, it breaks my heart too much, but I still love him deep down and I hope he was also able to heal after the credits rolled.

🔥 Hottest Role - Johnson (Reprisal)

Tied for first with Abner as the ultimate love of my life and claiming this one all to himself, Johnson is the Most Perfect Man. Literally, no other DD role can top him in my heart aside from Abner. I honestly almost skipped Reprisal entirely because the promo image on his imdb didn’t grab me (I’m such a fake fan I’m so ashamed of myself), but when I was done with everything else and wanted to see more, I downloaded it without ep9 since he wasn't in it, and started watching. What followed next was me falling so in love with the show that I spent forever trying to get that missing episode back from near dead torrents cause I needed to watch it even though he wasn't in it. Reprisal is my Roman Empire, I am constantly thinking about it and him and Matty, not just for my fic but just because I love it all so fucking much. 

Johnson himself is so fascinating, I’m incredibly in love with him and everything about him, he’s unlike any other role DD has played that there’s a complete disconnect in my mind, he’s just Johnson. He’s so goddamn hot I missed out on literally everything the first round because I was watching him so hard, Matty and Ethan were nonexistent to me and I’m madly in love with Matty now so let that sink in, and when I rewatched it immediately after with my parents it was like I was watching for the first time. I’m loving writing for him (and Matty and Ethan of course) so much that my thoughts go back to him daily, and it almost always includes me being on the verge of tears because of how insanely good this script is and how these boys bring me so much joy while also shattering my heart. 

Making the gif below no joke did make me cry like this show is my greatest weakness right now you guys don't even understand how much it and Johnson mean to me.

I need to edit more for him and them and the show in general, if I had endless money and all the confidence in the world I would truly fund this show single handedly so it can finish the way it was supposed to. I’m so mad at Hulu for giving me the greatest love(s) of my life before taking him away years before I’d ever know him, with no physical media or merch to at least collect to numb the pain. At some point I need to get some promo pics printed out as actual posters, I need this show on my wall so I can always see him.

[ginneke]

for the writer asks: 💥

💥 Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

...How about a two-for-one type deal to try to trick myself into writing them?

—

First is from Feelings That I've Known In Paradox - an AU blending botw and oot together with influences from other sources (e.g. steins;gate). In (brief) summary: Befriending the childhood version of the always-angry guy who's nonetheless one of Zelda's closest allies isn't vital to Link's job of trying to avert a bad future, but it seems like a good idea at the time....

To borrow a turn of phrase, though, it's all fun and games until someone loses [redacted].

-

He chattered on about the things he cared most about — like flying, which he thought even forest fairies must be able to appreciate. Those pink meadow fairies he'd occasionally glimpsed had wings, so why wouldn't these guys? And if they didn't, well, Revali could at least share a bit of the sky with them through stories, which was very generous of him. They should be grateful.

Naturally, talk of flying soon led to his favourite topic of all—archery—and how Revali was almost ready to officially take lessons in the Rito tribe's aerial techniques, if his skills were judged up to par. He felt quite certain they would be. After all, Revali had an advantage the other kids didn't have.

And that inevitably brought the topic round to...

"He was so annoying! Always showing up when I was trying to concentrate, always getting in my way — and whenever I tried asking what he wanted he just got this look like... Like I'd shouted at him or something."

...Okay, on reflection he might have shouted a little bit, the third time.

—

Second extract is from nebulas and novas (and night sky), the sensible and thematically appropriate name for what can otherwise be called Moonlight!Revalink Road Trip Part Two: Electric Boogaloo

-

"We named it the Kestrel Bow," Revali says as Link nocks an arrow to the string and tests the draw. The grip fits his hand perfectly, the way that Revali's Great Eagle Bow never did. "It seemed fitting, as you're—"

"—'Always hovering around'," Link finishes, before Revali can get the words out.

—

Want to send me an ask? Questions here: [link]

[voxofthevoid]

Time for Mundane Unclekuna Wednesday #3!

I'm on the penultimate chapter (#6) now, and since I'm stubbornly sticking to my parallel PoV structure, this should end with just seven chapters.

This does mean the word counts are uneven as fuck though. So far, we've got 6.1k, 5.1k, 2.8k, 9.6k, and 11.5k for Chapters 1 to 5, respectively. Chapter 6 is 3.8k and counting, with at least two major sex scenes left to tackle.

Have some goyuu this week! And if you're wondering why there's been a marked absence of porn in the WIPWed snippets so far, it's because I'm edging you.

Ah, Satoru realizes. This is guilt.

“Yuuji,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

Perfect incomprehension greets his apology.

Yuuji says, “Huh?”

“The meeting on Wednesday,” Satoru clarifies. “I provoked your uncle with my behavior. I don’t claim to be a model teacher in any sense, but that was incredibly irresponsible of me. I should’ve realized that you’d be the one suffering the consequences—and it looks like you have. I—”

“Woah, woah, wait, sensei, hold up!” Yuuji raises both hands, and with how close they’re standing, they’re practically planted on Satoru’s chest; a sweet chill seeps into his skin through his shirt. “You’ve got it all wrong. Sukuna didn’t…hurt me because of you. It was me.”

“Yuuji,” Satoru starts gently—

“Trust me,” Yuuji cuts in, with a vehemence that does absolutely nothing to make Satoru trust him—not in this, not ever. “Sukuna’s always been an asshole, I’m not excusing that, but this was… this was on me.”

“Nothing,” Satoru says firmly, “you did would’ve warranted him laying hands on you.”

Yuuji laughs. It’s a short, hastily stifled sound, but the genuine amusement there is chilling.

“Sorry, sorry,” Yuuji says, his mouth settling into a crooked smile. “It’s just…funny, thinking of Sukuna listening to something like that. I know you only talked to him for a little bit, sensei, but c’mon, you gotta know the kind of guy he is.”

“I have a good idea.” Satoru curls one hand into a tight fist, keeps the other gentle on Yuuji’s face. “Do you need help?”

Yuuji blinks. “Help with that?”

“Getting rid of your uncle.”

“Wow. Okay.” Yuuji seems taken aback—not horrified, which is a good sign, but pretty shocked. “That sounds, uh, ominous. No, it’s fine, Sukuna’s just—wait, how would you even go about doing that?”

“I have my ways.” And he shouldn’t, probably, but he can’t help adding, “I already sent one violent asshole to jail and nabbed his kid. I can do it again.”

This time, Yuuji’s laughter is longer and brighter, sending warmth instead of ice through Satoru’s veins. He watches a little helplessly as Yuuji’s eyes crinkle shut, happily playing the part of a support beam as Yuuji clutches him and doubles over, his head pushing into Satoru’s chest.

It’s not really that funny. Or maybe it is. Yuuji can clearly use the laugh.

His eyes are wet when he straightens up. He wipes them off on his sleeve, one hand still clutching Satoru’s arm. He reaches across himself to lay his own hand over it, only holding. Yuuji’s knuckles are sticky under his palm.

“You should never say that to Fushiguro,” Yuuji tells him.

“Too late!” Satoru chirps.

Yuuji lets out another bark of laughter, and for a moment, it looks like he’ll descend into another manic fit, but then he shakes it off, physically, bouncing a little in place while staring at Satoru with beautifully bright eyes.

“Thank you, Gojou-sensei,” Yuuji says, the sincerity in it freezing Satoru’s breath in his lungs. “But you don’t need to worry about me.”

Satoru looks pointedly at Yuuji’s mouth; his intentions are pure enough, if only because of the way the cut there makes his blood boil. “I disagree.”

Yuuji just grins wide. “You want to be my dad that bad?”

Satoru chokes on air. “What.”

Yuuji grins wider, a menace from eyes to mouth. “I mean, you did compare me to Fushiguro, and he’s your—”

“Ward,” Satoru cuts in emphatically. “He’s my ward. Don’t look at me like that, Yuuji! I’m too young to spawn!”

“If you say so,” Yuuji says, audibly skeptical.

“I am,” Satoru whines.

“Yes, sensei,” Yuuji mollifies him. “I’m glad anyway.”

“Oh?”

Yuuji shrugs, the kind of nonchalance that shows it’s anything but. “I, uh, really don’t want you to have…fatherly feelings for me.”

“I don’t,” Satoru says, mouth moving before his mind can warn against it; he wouldn’t have listened anyway. But the least he can do it give Yuuji a warning to go with the confession: “You shouldn’t be so happy about that, Yuuji. It’s the kinder option.”

Yuuji ducks his head, looking down at the floor between their feet with a faint smile that sends a prickling sensation up Satoru’s spine.

“Sukuna said you’d eat me alive,” he says, eyes still downcast.

Satoru’s hand flexes, pressing Yuuji’s hand more firmly against his own arm. If it hurts, Yuuji doesn’t show it; the face that tilts up to look Satoru in the eye is calm and resolute. There’s danger there.

A want, a warning.

“Did he now?” Satoru murmurs. “And what do you think?”

“I believe him,” Yuuji says simply.

“I see.”

“It’s not a bad thing. You said it’s not kinder but—” Yuuji shrugs again, except it seems to make his body wind up tighter. “But it’s better than you feeling nothing. And it’s definitely better than you wanting to be my dad.”

Satoru chuckles, but the amusement doesn’t penetrate past the skin. The world has narrowed to Yuuji and the scant space between their bodies. Satoru’s keenly aware of his own—the ice in his bones, the heat in his veins.

“I wonder about that,” Satoru says quietly. “It’s easy to look, Yuuji. Touch rots.”

Yuuji shivers, suppressed and all the more delicate for it.

He says, “You touch me all the time. You’re touching me now.”

“So I am.” Satoru loosens his grip, doesn’t let go; he runs his thumb over Yuuji’s busted knuckles and knows with bone-deep certainty that the way Yuuji gasps has nothing to do with the pain. “Have you tasted it yet—the rot?”

“Yes.”

Satoru sees it coming. Yuuji broadcasts it, with blazing eyes and burning care that say he wants to be seen, perceived, allowed, wanted.

Satoru does, even the parts he shouldn’t. And when Yuuji’s mouth finally finds his own, Satoru takes it.

Yuuji’s mouth tastes like blood and heat, a metallic bite that seeps into Satoru’s tongue and down his throat, dissolving into bland warmth somewhere deep. A part of him that’s divorced from it all, a passenger in his own flesh, notes that there’s a metaphor there somewhere—the essence of youth, a monster’s maw.

But the rest of him, all the vital parts, are caught on this boy’s mouth as it tries so sweetly to devour him.

Yuuji’s done this before, that much is clear from the start, and Satoru’s relieved about that even as he shelves a fantasy or three. His tongue is hotly clever around Satoru’s own and both bold and greedy as it pushes into Satoru’s mouth, tasting him deep with a groan that trembles through both their mouths. His fingers sink into Satoru’s arm hard enough to bruise, and Satoru allows it, thumb still pressed to those torn knuckles.

Blood staining his hands feels apt even as the taste of blood in Yuuji’s mouth is chased away by the wet twisting of their tongues, leaving behind a heady heat that eats through Satoru slowly, sweetly, steadily.

He breaks the kiss before he does something Yuuji really will regret.

Yuuji chases his mouth—just a little mindless motion, strangled before he catches Satoru.

Satoru still licks his lips, tasting the potential there, and Yuuji’s pupils grow even bigger, liquid black swallowing soft brown. It’s a hell of an expression—the hunger that’s hunted Satoru across classrooms and corridors tripled in intensity.

“Behave,” Satoru murmurs, more to himself than Yuuji.

Yuuji lets out a heavy breath, nostril flaring. “Isn’t it too late for that?”

“Not yet,” Satoru says, except he’s not sure how true it is. Lines have been crossed, but this is a little moment in time far from the school grounds they both haunt most days of the week. They can pretend it never happened.

They won’t. But they could.

Yuuji just looks at him like he knows what Satoru isn’t saying.

Scary, that.

“That’s why we fought,” Yuuji says suddenly, the words quick and oddly toneless. “On Wednesday, I mean. I kissed him. I kissed Sukuna.”

Satoru’s brain stalls out.

“You kissed…Sukuna. Your uncle Sukuna.”

“Yep.”

Satoru imagines it. Tries to. The images come easily enough. They’re just very surreal.

He tries to connect that to what he knows, what he’s seen. The way Sukuna looks at Yuuji, the way Yuuji touches Satoru. That one meeting with the three of them, the undercurrents there.

It…fits.

Huh.

“Hey, sensei?” Yuuji calls, dispelling the new, gleaming web of connection trying to brand itself into Satoru’s brain. “Do you still think Sukuna shouldn’t have hurt me?”

“Yes,” Satoru says immediately. “You’re a child, he’s an adult. There’s no question here.”

Hypocrite, whispers that voice.

Satoru squashes it. He knows. But that doesn’t change the truth of what he said, and he’ll get that through this boy’s head even if he has to channel Nanami for it.

Yuuji’s staring at him again, eyes intent but mouth nervous. He’s chewing on his lip, the tip of a canine peeking out.

Satoru reaches out and tugs that lip out from under Yuuji’s teeth. “You’ll bleed again.”

Yuuji hums. Satoru drops his hand.

It’s caught, Yuuji’s calloused palm wrapping around it—more desperate than romantic.

“He knew, before,” Yuuji says. “And we fight all the time. It’s Sukuna. I’ve done worse to him. It wasn’t the kiss. It wasn’t the…rest of it. Not really. It was you, sensei. He was so pissed because I didn’t just want him anymore, I wanted you too.”

[johnslittlespoon]

dog-coded Bucky has ruined me and my poor little brain, you’ve caused it to rot and this is the only thing i have been thinking of for days!!

i saw your post about the different tropes and have a few ideas you might like:

• fear of the vets — i’d imagine that Bucky avoids going to medical at all costs and it would take either Buck or Curt dragging him in for him to actually get medical attention, he’s not happy about it though

• rumbling / playful growling — looks aggressive but it’s completely playful, a lot of the guys could a bit hesitant when he gets like that but quickly realise Bucky is just messing around

• leaning on someone with his full bodyweight — my dog does this all the time and i could imagine Bucky just letting all his weight fall on whoever’s closest; maybe the rest of the 100th learn to always have your feet planted after too one too many falls

• chasing his tail — i think that Bucky tries to live life to the fullest and often that means overindulging in certain vices, but the chasing tail metaphor is more like participating in the simple joys, doing something stupid just because you can

• trigger words — instead of treat or walk, as soon as someone even whispers the word bet Bucky is bounding over

• no social awareness — it’s so clear that Bucky is a social creature, but i feel like he would just go up to anyone and act as if they’re old friends, arms thrown over shoulders and wide smiles; does it make Buck jealous… 👀

• instinct — sort of following on from the above, there are some people that Bucky just avoids as he’s got a bad feeling, you know how some say that dogs always know what type of person someone is

i definitely have more ideas floating around, but these are the main ones at the moment. i loved the first chapter and got so excited when i saw it posted!!

RESPECTFULLY I SMOOCH YOUR FOREHEAD. WOWOWWWWW

the way the live wires in my brain lit tf up at these oh you're a saint. i am SO sorry for the transferred brainrot but omg THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO WRITE THIS OUT?! i'm nearly in tears at some of them i am so soft for him someone needs to come put me out of my misery pretty please

saving all of these and absolutely trying to squeeze some in <3 esp the no social awareness one bc i do have a little jealous buck scene planned out for chapter three teehee

thank u again legend i am about to post a little snippet as an offering of gratitude SDGJKDSK <3

[thatgirl4815]

Misdirection & Possession

I find it very interesting that I went into this episode fully prepared to hate Ray (Jojo even indicated that we would be very angry with him in Ep8), but if anything, I feel much more positively towards him than I did in Ep7. And I think a lot of that is due to misdirection.

The preview for Ep8 shows a small snippet of the conversation between Ray and Sand at the party, and it paints Ray as purely selfish and possessive. His little smirk and arrogant tone just exudes spoiled, rich brat. While his tone aligns with all of those descriptors, the words he uses in that scene are so much more pitiful than I expected. I’ve used the words pitiful and desperate to describe Ray here, and I think those characterize his arc this episode well.

Going into the party argument, we see Ray's confusion over Sand's avoidance, viewing himself as Sand's foremost attraction. It's a self-centered, arrogant comment, but it's also subtly indicative of just how down bad Ray is himself that he would insist that Sand see him at the start of the party.

"You like me. You love me."

We know already that Ray clings to his relationship with Sand because Sand drops everything for him. Ray says this coming off of the scene where he is used as a tool for Mew's revenge on Top. I don't think it's any coincidence then that Mew kisses Ray to illustrate his possessiveness over him, while Ray does the same to Sand. It's like Ray's subconscious need to level the playing field with Mew--to convince himself that even though Mew isn't returning his feelings properly, Sand is still his. Ray is Mew's, and Sand is Ray's.

Following this, we have another distinction with the Ep8 preview. In the preview, Sand says "I'm not your rebound" while in the actual show he says "I'm not your second option." There's a difference in meaning there, and I wonder why the preview shows different dialogue when we never see it in the series itself. 'Rebound' implies that Ray is seeking out Sand to bounce back from a relationship-gone-wrong, while second choice doesn't necessarily imply that something had gone wrong in the previous relationship. It's a small difference, but it's still one worth noting.

Finally, Ray's got this snide smirk on his face the entire scene. It only breaks when he's pushed down, and even then, it's not heartbreak but mild annoyance. I'm going to attribute that to his inebriation coupled with his own belief in Sand's feelings; from that perspective, whatever Sand says is of no real consequence. Ray believes he has Sand wrapped around his little finger the same way Mew has him wrapped around his.

Mew alluded last week to this idea that people often don't realize what they have until it's too late; I think that same sentiment applies here. Ray won't realize that Sand means it when he says he deserves better until it's too late--until Sand walks away and doesn't come back. Ray feels secure about his hold on Sand for now, but what he doesn't realize is that he's slowly wearing Sand down. Sand is patient, First himself said so, but everyone's patience wears out eventually. Regardless of whatever happiness is coming for them next week, I have a feeling Ray will continue to wear Sand down until he just can't take it anymore.

[uriekukistan]

HI RIN!!!

For the WIP ask: How about 3, 4, 10, 15, and 16? Hope you have a great day!

HIII THANK YOU FOR THE ASK :D sorry for the late reply i've been feeling kinda sick but i fear you've hit the yap button w these....though unfortunately i dont have enough of any of these written to provide a proper snippet my apologies </3 HOPE YOURE DOING WELL !!

3 - WIP I talk about (hasn't started yet)

this is a more recent idea that i just had and talked a bit abt on here i might refine it some before i actually start writing it, but in short i was thinking what if. when yuuji died at the detention center megumi accidentally cursed him? i’ve been thinking of yuuji as a rika-like curse or maybe (probably) something more humanoid but. imagine the GUILT that megumi would feel ooohhhggg it would hurt so bad i need to think more about this  but i have had the idea for a while about itafushi cursing each other at the detention center…..now that i have more time i can actually work on fleshing this out so 

4 - WIP that is secretly rotting my brain & 10 - WIP I started because because of a song

not to combine two asks again i SWEAR its related 

actually i don’t think i’ve ever talked abt this one before…maybe with like one person. and i haven’t started it yet either but it lives in my brain RENT FREE. but its a horror/angst idea inspired by jjk 266 because im EVIL

basically the idea is that in order to reach megumi’s soul, yuuji has to travel Through sukuna’s soul. in doing this, he basically experiences life as sukuna like all the atrocities he committed and cannibalism, some other things. and he’s conscious the whole time but can’t stop anything even he tried because he’s just living sukuna’s memories. ooooh the guilt the sickness the trauma i need to write this idea so bad

the reason i included 10 in this is because i first got the idea when i was listening to “talk” by hozier and the line about the voice that urged orpheus and the choiceless hope in grief. the fic doesnt really align with erm the rest of the song but like the idea of yuuji going through literal Hell to save megumi (like he didnt go through enough already) and the way i saw that in the jjk universe was sukuna’s soul

15 - WIP that is just all my favorite tropes bound together with the power of love

i would say koi no yokan but since i finished editing the last chapter today i feel like that doesnt count as a wip anymore :( 

now i’d say it’s my (unstarted) actor au because it has slow burn elements, historical elements (IM SO EXCITED ABT THIS), secret/forbidden romance…probably lots of meddling (/affectionate) nobara. i havent fully planned it out yet bc i don’t like to have too many active multichapters at once </3 but i love the idea of writing itafushi falling in love twice in parallel stories 🥹

16 - WIP that has an audience of 1 and it is me

is this an appropriate time to talk abt original work……………………………i’ve never talked abt that here before omg

it’s still in its infancy im talking world and characters barely in existence (i’m better at plotting first and building as necessary but idk idk) but this morning i actually came up w a title for it and a vague beginning and ending so i can start building more from there but. 

its a fantasy story set in a fictional kingdom (wow big shocker /s) and the idea that i’ve centered my plot around so far is this doomsday cult. here’s a lil peak into my lore doc (hides faster than the speed of sound) (yes i named the cult before the kingdom what about it)

the story is tentatively named (though i will probably stick with it) "when the sun bleeds red" after the first line of the prophecy. which to me not only refers to the prophecy but the type of imagery i'll be striving for with the more violent scenes kjdgfhfjdh

i'll be running away and hiding myself in a ditch now cant believe i spoke abt my original work publicly

[aaronstveit]

What was the hardest/most challenging part about writing deep end?

Also, Barriere du Maine. I love so much that it exists in this universe. Do you have any insight as to what exactly went down? Or any chance this would be a one-shot eventually? (👀👀👀👀👀)

hi!!! thank you sm for asking as always 🫶🏻

the hardest part of deep end for sure was the plot itself. i royally suck at plotting. it's why i so rarely write longform fic. generally i can come up with a beginning, something really horrible to happen somewhere in the middle, and a vague idea of an ending. filling in all the gaps is torture. and then, when i finally figure out what i want to happen in the middle, i rearrange it a thousand times trying to make it make sense. i am pretty much incapable of writing things out of order. i can write little snippets of scenes that i want to come later, but i can't write a full scene out of order. my brain simply does not allow for it. which means that i will stall at a random place for weeks at a time even though i know what should happen in later scenes. i have not figured out how to get around this yet unfortunately </3

also i found the ending really difficult! i mean, i knew i wanted a generally happy ending, despite who i am as a person (if you haven't noticed, i really love angst). but i suck at writing endings in general, and trying to end something this long just felt... herculean. i feel like there is no real way to end deep end without getting kinda cliché and mushy, but also i feel like they've kinda earned their clichéd mushiness? we'll see how y'all feel about it. i did have to add a scene to the epilogue just recently because of two things that were bothering me. and i have a really bad habit of coming near the end and starting to freak out because what if it actually sucks? i'm back at this place right now honestly, i was editing chapter 25 last night and i was like ummmmm this sucks i need to rewrite this whole thing. even though i know for a fact that isn't true and i've also rewritten it like 5 times. but my brain just freaks out near the end and goes doomsday so i just have to power through!

as for the barriere du maine:

i just typed up a very long paragraph about what happened at the barriere du maine that began with "i don't think i'll ever write a one-shot about it because it exists in my head more as a concept than a scene" and then proceeded to be a few hundred words about exactly what happened. so i think i might actually write a one-shot about this after all. congratulations 😭 i genuinely never intended on actually writing what happened at the barriere du maine in deep end but now i'm like oooooh that would be fun. i will give you a little information now though: the incident at the barriere du maine did not happen during the planning of a protest, but during an actual protest itself. the protest would have ended badly whether or not grantaire failed in his task, and any of the amis (even enjolras) would have failed at this task. enjolras knew this when he sent grantaire to do it, and sent him anyway. grantaire was also minorly injured in his attempt at the task, and enjolras may have actually felt guilty about this, except that grantaire got drunk after he "failed" at the task at the barriere du maine, and that pissed enjolras off. and what pissed enjolras off more was that he knew he was being unfair to grantaire, but he didn't understand why. he could not figure out why grantaire got under his skin in such a particular way, or why he treated grantaire so poorly in comparison to how he treated the others.

every time i go to answer an ask i swear to myself that i'm going to keep it short and then i never do 😭 no wonder deep end is like 3 billion words long. on my victor hugo slay i guess! thank you for asking 🫂🫂🫂

[gorgeousundertow]

for the hbowar ask game, a, f, i, l, o, v, w (unrelated to the ask game: xoxoxoxo)

a. okay he's not underrated because I think people definitely like him but here's the thing I would smash Patterson like a hammer

f. ranking the shows oh no i'm so sorry everyone but i did not like...

4. The Pacific. I'm just being honest right now. I liked certain parts and certain characters A LOT but it all felt too disjointed and there were too many through lines and it was (this sounds bad bc war and trauma and tragedy but hey I watch tv for entertainment) depressing. I didn't like a war show bc war is depressing, I know how ridiculous that sound.

3. Masters of the Air. Not anywhere near as depressing, but much more disjointed. I couldn't track or find a connection with most of the characters. It felt like too much telling and not enough showing about what I should care about and I want to seeeeee these things.

2. Generation Kill is probably my second-favorite, but I think about it all the time (and by all the time I really do literally mean all. the. time.) so I have to wonder if that's inaccurate? But you guys. It's so fucking good don't take this slight rank of #2 to mean anything besides it's so fucking good and I love it.

Band of Brothers, because it was my first love. Because winnix. Because gorgeous cinematography. Because Liebgott's jugular. Because "Doing fine, Bill, thanks for asking." Because Dick Winters shaving. Because Nixon's suspenders. Because F Company got lost again. Because Joe Toye's brass knuckles.

i. wheeee the fun one!

@ep6bastogne Babe. But not just sweet thoughtful funny Babe although yes that but also sobbing for Julian Babe devastated eyes meeting Gene's in Hagenau Babe.

@screwby Ray ur just Ray-Ray. A sweet chaotic gremlin of such a good and emotionally available friend who is also more down to talk dick than anybody I know.

@lamialamia You give me Snafu vibes but hear me out. It's not tossing rocks in brain puddles Snaf, but Peer Into My Eyes to Check for Disease But Also For the Flirt Snaf.

@blood-mocha-latte I don't know you as well but you started this whole thing and should get as much Being Perceived as you deserve for all that effort. You've got the Very Excited and Delighted attitude of Luz Talking Through The Movie, but also Snug as a Bug nurturing Luz. I'm not even saying this because of Luztoye week, this is just what I'm getting.

l. hbowar does seem a lot less hectic. I've never really participated in other fandoms, but I've lurked around the edges of Good Omens and BBC Sherlock and. well.

o. okay i'm bout to get slapped but. i don't really get luztoye. Obviously I was there for "Just give me a goddamn drink" and several other key scenes but...I don't know!!! Obviously the textual clues are there and they are not subtle, I just don't quite get how the two personalities mesh. Excited to read more fics until I do get it *hides*

v. snippet:

“Nate’s already made contact,” Ray argued. “Go on, homes, bring her a drink, make small talk, compliment her shoes. Whatever, dude. See what you can get out of her.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Brad said.

Nate frowned. “You don’t think she’d be interested?”

Brad looked over to where Lara stood sipping her wine and pretending she wasn’t watching Nate’s every move. “I didn’t say that.”

Ray barked out a laugh. “Dude, I was listening in. She wants your tongue in her mouth, like, yesterday.”

Nate grinned widely and turned to make his way back over to Lara. Brad thought it would probably feel really good to punch something. 

“You okay there, Big Gay Brad?”

“Shut up, Ray.”

“Don’t worry, he can’t hear us. This is a special private channel just for you and me. You know, you could just tell him. You could walk right up to him and say, ‘Nate, your soulful green eyes and air of heroic tragedy give me a hard on like I’m a thirteen-year-old boy watching his cousin bounce naked on a trampoline. I want to suck all your pain and suffering right out through your dickhole.’”

w. What hbowar url I should have instead of my Fully Unrelated and Inscrutable url is an excellent question! Problem is Lenora/@screwby already stole the best one.