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steddieunderdogfics · 7 months ago

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: fragilecapric0rn! @fragilecapric0rnn has written 22 fics in the Stranger Things fandom and 21 of them are in the Steddie tag!

@cheatghost recommends the following works by @fragilecapric0rnn:

It Might Be Worth It For Once

clown music at the disco

you can take the heart from your chest to use as a compass when you are lost

Catch Me (I'm Falling)

Anyway, It's About Old Friends

"Sen's body of work is like a truly love letter to the characters. No matter the universe, Steve and Eddie always feel authentic to themselves. Sen's love for classic rom-coms influences a lot of her writing and makes for really romantic, touching stories. It's an absolute delight to dive into a world crafted by this author!" -- @cheatghost

Below the cut, @fragilecapric0rnn answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I think in May of 2022 I was bit by the same bug as everyone else. Before I started writing Steddie, I was on a 4-year fic writing hiatus, and it was like seeing those two interact on screen zapped my brain awake. The chemistry, the potential, the fact that one half of the ship got ripped away from us too soon. All of those components really did something to my brain and I decided I had to write them and I haven’t looked back since!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love a idiots to lovers! These two really have the potential to fit that trope so well!

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Second-chance at romance! If you’ve seen any of my fics, you know that I love and will take any chance to write 90s older steddie, haven’t spoken or seen each other in years, who re-meet and fall in love. It is so them, it is my favorite version of them. It’s the version of them that lives in my head!

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

There are so many good ones to choose from, but I think I have to go with Show Me the Place Where He Inserted the Blade by the incomparable, the magnificently talented and outstanding Cheatghost. Lou, who I am very proud to call a friend, is one of the most talented people I know and I feel very lucky to have had them brought into my life via the Steddie brainrot.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Is it lame if I say no? LOL. Honestly, I have written almost everything I have felt the need to explore with this pairing. A lot of my ideas moving forward are expansions/continuations of ideas that I already started or have posted before.

What is your writing process like?

Right now it’s at its most unstructured because I am rawdogging life without my ADHD meds for the first time in 7 years, which has been a whirlwind but I am managing. However, it usually depends on the fic I’m writing! For a lot of my longfic, I have a physical notebook that has an outline and major plot points I want to hit at certain times in my stories. Other times, for the shorter fics/one-shots, I just write them all in one go. It starts with a (usually silly) idea, and then I get possessed by the writing demons, and suddenly, I haven’t moved from my chair in 2 hours and I have four thousand words on my screen. I contain multitudes!

Do you have any writing quirks?

I am a victim of the: One word. One phrase. Lin breaks for emphasis. And I will be doing it until someone who is being paid real money to publish one of my original works tells me to knock it off!

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Again, asking if it’s bad if I say neither? When I first started posting fic again, I was very much writing it all and then posting it over the course of a few days. But now, I tend to write sporadically and post even more sporadically. And I prefer the latter! Fanfiction, and fandom in general, is a collaborative experience in its heart and soul. One of my favorite things about longfic is posting a chapter and seeing what people take away from it, because 9/10 it’ll be different then what the writer thinks they’re going to take away! And the chance to change and rework and let yourself be influenced by other fans of the ship is taken away when you write it all at once and post it all at once.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Anyway, It’s About Old Friends. Even in its unfinished form, it is my magnum opus. My white whale. I have done some of my best writing in it (chapter 2 MY BELOVED) and the fact that its so close to the end is both exciting and terrifying. It is a fic I wrote and continue to write for me, and the fact that other people are reading and enjoying it is a win!

How did you get the idea for It Might Be Worth It For Once?

HA! So, I was chatting with my friend Emily (JudasofSuburbia) about a potential Pornstar!Steve AU offhandedly back in the fall. Then, I got paired with them for a little fic exchange between friends, and it felt natural to take that one off little conversation and turn it into a fic for her. It was one of those fics that started out as a silly idea and then suddenly it’s been six hours and I wrote the whole thing in one go! After some polishing and editing, it became a Pornstar!AU with not as much smut as I expected. It was so fun to write, made even more fun as it was for a dear friend.

When writing Anyway, It's About Old Friends, what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn’t expect it to change and mold and morph in the way that it did. There is a version of this fic where they do hook-up earlier, there’s a version where they re-meet at gay club and not a wedding, there’s a version where Steve marries a Evie and Eddie is Raul. But, this version feels the most right. It’s a story about heartbreak, about finding love (in all it forms) in unexpected places, and it’s about found family most of all. All of that was stumbled on accidentally! My only intention was to write a Steddie-fied When Harry Met Sally fic, and accidentally flashed my heart and soul. Whoops!

What inspired clown music at the disco?

I used to be an opener at a coffee shop and there is something so disorienting and mind altering about having disco music blasting on the speakers at 4am. But, it was in one of those moments, where I was so tired I was nauseous, that the fic idea came to me! I had already been thinking of writing as my first fic, Steve and Eddie accidentally have a Devil’s Sacrament moment at the gay bar, but the line “But it’s Disco Night”, came to me at the ungodly hour of 4 in the morning. What a time!

What was your favorite part to write from you can take the heart from your chest to use as a compass when you are lost?

The Never Have I Ever Scene! It was the first time I wrote the entire party in one scene and it’s chaotic and a little messy but it was one of my favorite parts of the fic. It also made me realize how much I love writing ensemble scenes! Just everyone trying to talk over each other, chaos in its best form.

How do/did you feel writing Catch Me (I'm Falling)?

I wrote this fic in the span of like almost 3 weeks? I was sick and burnt out for most of the time I was writing it, but it was almost a compulsion. I had the idea and I just HAD to write it. No outline, just vibes and Steve Harrington in a cheerleading uniform! I took it down for a while because I was turning it into something else, but then had a change of heart and put it back up. And part of me is glad that I took it down for a moment because people love to be weird about the feminizing Steve’s character, and even though I was writing him as a cheerleader, I tried really hard to keep him earnestly himself, and in character.

What was the most difficult part of writing Anyway, It's About Old Friends?

Writing about San Francisco while being the most homesick I have ever been in my life. Also writing Eddie in those first few chapters as an asshole but not unlikable. I didn’t want him to be “fine” (because no one is fine in this universe, especially not in the beginning) but I also didn’t want him to do or say anything too bad. I think I got a handle on it pretty well.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

In Faces Freedom With A Little Fear, the first scene in the hospital with Steve’s sister. She storms in, threatens federal agents, all for her brother. JJ Harrington you will always be famous!

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Just my current WIPs! Anyway It’s About Old Friends; the When Harry Met Sally AU of my dreams. Hand on My Stupid Heart; the modern AU, where the UD exists but everyone has iPhones and Steve deals with his bisexuality!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Shout out to my boys! Kkpwnall, judasofsuburbia, figthefruitfaeth, gideoncharov, cheatghost, fastcardotmp3, snowangeldotmp3 you guys rule and they’re all so talented!!!! Thank you to whoever nominated me! I feel the love and give it back to you tenfold!!!!!!

Thank you to our author, @fragilecapric0rnn, and our nominator, @cheatghost! See more of fragilecapric0rn's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things

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the-s1lly-corner · 1 year ago

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Welcome to the cringe corner! (Masterlists at bottom)

Here you can find various content for characters of several different fandoms! This is a multi fandom blog, constantly cycling through fixiations thanks to the Admin constantly going through different interests

With that out of the way, below the cut you can find more information about the Admin, as well as the blog itself

About the Admin and Blog

Hello hello! I'm the Admin, I use (they/he/it) pronouns! For years I have read and consumed canon x reader insert content, and decided it's about time I give back to the community!

This is a multi fandom blog, with the blog changing with my interests! by default, though, Creepypasta is what I write when no interest is pushing me enough to right (and will continue to be the default for the foreseeable future, thanks to the fandom playing such a large role in my childhood)

This blog mainly focuses on short lists of headcannons for reader inserts, however occasionally scenarios will be posted as well as general headcannons!

I must say, I am not the best writer nor am I the best with characterization, so please note that some characters may be OOC

Below you can find what I write!

What I will write:

As of 12/24/23 I only take 1-3 characters per ask; any ask that exceeds that number will be put in the wheel to draw names to see who stays in the request

I write platonic, romantic, and found family

I will write most (descriptive)!readers however overly complex readers may be denied depending on the scenario

Typically I write hcs and scenarios!

You can ask for readers that are disabled or have a disorder but please note that while I will do research, I may not be able to get it perfect <\3

What I wont write:

Wont write any of the general no-no topics

This is more of a case by case thing depending on the ask and depending on my mental health at the time of it being sent, but I may not take requests for a reader who has been abvsed or s/hs

^ on the chance I do it will likely only be written as non vague/the harm is not being described in real time in the post + will be written strictly as comfort

I do not write NSFW, at most I will elude to something but nothing explicit

I do not write fics, those are for special occasion

I do not write canon x oc, due to me not feeling I can reliably portray the oc + this is where the overly complex described reader thing comes in, please do not try to trick me into this

As of December 2023 I do not take readers based off of existing media/canon characters unless I already know a character

If theres anything I'm not comfortable with I will let you know be it privately or by answering your ask

How to request:

Only send asks through the inbox, any asks sent through reblogs comments or dms will not be taken

Please only request one fandom per ask, if you want multiple fandoms please send in multiple asks

Please search the Masterlists to see if something similar to your request has been done before

I tend to write things and put them in a queue so as not to spam tags or the blog, so if your request is taking a new days to be posted that may be why! If you want to know what day your request is scheduled to be posted just ask!

Fandoms I write for/have written for! Will try to keep this updated!

Creepypasta (ongoing)

The Amazing digital circus (temporarily open)

Hazbin Hotel (ongoing)

Slashers (limited, temporarily open only for jason)

Overwatch (on hold)

ATSV (on hold, only wrote for spot)

TOH (on hold, only wrote for bump)

FNAF SB (temporarily open, only write for DCA)

Metalocalypse (ongoing and trying to get a hold on the characters personalities!)

Fran bow (mostly itward. Him, morgo, and remor are the only ones I write romantic and platonic for. Rest of the games casts is locked to platonic for obvious reasons)

LIST OF MASTERLISTS

Masterlist of ATSV, TOH, Overwatch and Fran Bow

Masterlist for FNAF SB, Slashers, and Metalocalypse

Masterlist for Creepypasta Volume 1

Masterlist for Creepypasta Volume 2

TADC Masterlist Volume 1

TADC Masterlist Volume 2

TADC Masterlist Volume 3

TADC Masterlist Volume 4

Hazbin Masterlist

The tropes list

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jokeroutbigbang · 26 days ago

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Detailed schedule

20.01. Cut-off for Sign-Ups

21.01. – 31.01. Planning Phase

Authors will plan their fics and then post a summary or rough outline of their work. This must already contain all the major plot points and the final conclusion.

Artists can read through everything and think about which work they may want to create art for, although they still have time to make a final decision until the 26th of February.

01.02. Start of the Creation Phase

22.02. First Check-In

Writers for a MB should have a minimum of 3k words at this point. Writers of a BB should have a minimum of 5k words.

Last chance to switch from a BB to a MB and vice versa.

Artists can see if and how their favourited fics are progressing.

26.02. Final day for artist claims.

Artists must now submit their final claim for which fanfic they want to create art for. Through a form, they can submit their top three choices and the mods will then match everyone up. The goal is that every fanfic has at least one accompanying piece, so you might not get your first choice but instead your second or third one. However, if you finish your piece before the last deadline, you can then still create a second piece for another fic of your choice – for example the one that was your first choice.

If the chosen fic does not meet the second check-in or at any point is expected to not be finished in time, the artist can also choose a different one.

09.03. – 15.03. Beta-reader Sign-Ups

22.03. Second Check-In

Both MB and BB should be nearly completed or in the final stages.

Between this date and the final deadline, writers can already request help from Beta-readers.

Artists should have at least a rough outline or some sketches of their future work.

30.03. Final deadline

Both writers and artists must have their pieces completed at this point. Until the Posting Phase, everyone now has time to get their fic beta-read, art and other works finalised/edited, and prepare everything for posting.

Time slots are assigned and organised.

07.04. – 13.04. Posting Phase

All works are posted in the assigned time slots, both on tumblr and on AO3. All works are added to a collection on AO3 and get reblogged by the official blog on tumblr. At the end of the week, a post will be made compiling all works.

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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 1 year ago

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oh my god I binge read sea glass garden last night and the third and fourth chapter DESTROYED ME.

I’m omw to reread the entire fic because it was too good and I KNOW that it’s going to be one of the must-reads of this fandom. I’m literally in love with all your characters (your Tsumiki is so freaking interesting she was READY to get at it with Maki✊🏻) especially your description of Megumi’s situation is killing me, my heart is in pieces. No matter how many stories there are depicting the years before his high school time, there will always be too few idc.

I’m pretty sure it’s canonically stated that Megumi went on missions before being enrolled as a student and that he witnessed the death of at least one comrade, all because he had been bought to be a jujutsu sorcerer. Imagine never having the delusion of a future because you signed your life away to ensure your sister would live happily. Your take on the fact that, maybe, at some point of his life, Megumi didn’t wish to be a jujutsu sorcerer anymore destroys me. I never really thought of it, and he probably never imagined a life for himself where he wouldn’t die as a jujutsu sorcerer either. He was downright begging to be left to die in peace because he couldn’t bear it any longer when he shouldn’t have even gone on missions yet at all😭 And even though his current injuries weren’t caused by a mission, I don’t think he’d be so stupid to try to tame the snake unsupervised a few days after Geto’s death. Like c’mon. It’s all the higher ups fault, because it always is. Damn them. I hope they choke on their rotting teeth😤

ANYWAY I GOT LOST ON THE WAY TO ASK YOU A QUESTION JANSJAJANJAHA I ramble way too much

I noticed the updates have been pretty frequent, so do you have an update schedule with pre-written chapters? No because if you don’t I applaude you for being able to write masterpieces in a few days😩

P.S. I was curious about the meaning of the title and I read your other post about it and it’s so beautiful😭 obviously it’s sad but it also speaks of the determination of humans’ will to survive yk? You are genius😫

No update schedule, unfortunately! I don’t have the self control to not post chapters when I have them. I go on hyperfixation-fueled writing binges and writers block crashes of unending despair. It’s a Whole Thing. Updates tend to come in waves with me. It’ll probably be pretty erratic updates until the story ends. Thank you for reading and for your kind words!

You are speaking my ENTIRE LANGUAGE with Megumi. He is, hands down, the most interesting character in the show to me. His backstory and how it intertwines with his philosophy and approach to morality make him just so unendingly interesting to me.

Like, the Fushiguro siblings and specifically Megumi really were doomed by the narrative from the start. Megumi never really lived in a world where he had a future. Like, the past arc takes place during spring of 2006, and his dad had ditched long enough at that point that he straight up forgot megumi's name. Tsumiki's mom had been gone long enough that Megumi thought she and his dad ran off together, so she probably wasn't around after Toji stopped coming. Megumi was born late December of 2002, so he would have been three then. Tsumiki was, at most, five. And because Gojo didn't go to meet them until after Geto's massacre in late summer of 2007, it was just the two of them for at least a year.

Like, the sheer horror of being two very small children taking care of each other, knowing that the money's running out and that your parents probably aren't coming back. They were living in abject poverty, and Megumi was most likely seeing curses during at least part of this (considering he was right at the age for it and he wasn't all that surprised with Gojo rolling up to tell him his dad was from a magic clan) with no idea what they were, because even if Toji explained anything (which i doubt) the chances of Megumi remembering the explanation aren't great. He's seeing horrifying things every day and doesn't have any support past his sister, who can't see the same.

Tsumiki and Megumi faced parentification at a ludicrously young age. We know that Tsumiki most likely took a pretty strong caretaking/maternal role for megumi from an early age, but the fact that baby Megumi's only question when Gojo found him and made his offer was about Tsumiki's happiness suggests that the caretaking wasn't one sided. Making decisions about your future based on the needs of your family is a very adult concern, and it was Megumi's only concern. While Tsumiki was canonically far more open with her affection and care (grumpy baby Megumi refusing to hold hands, you have my whole heart), Megumi definitely loved her deeply already and was modeling his actions with her interests in mind. They must have both been shouldering the load of raising and protecting the other for as long as they can remember. Tsumiki and Megumi were likely barely surviving day to day. They were already shouldering the stresses of grown ups and likely didn't have any of those childish, starry-eyed dreams about what it would be like when they grew up.

Even when Gojo enters the scene, the parentification didn't end. While he does take on a paternal/caretaking role, his intro into their lives very much heralded a time where Megumi became the family's compulsory breadwinner. I won't break down my thoughts on how Gojo probably wasn't the one who came up with the deal of Megumi being collateral for their survival since I already did it in another post, but however it came about, it doesn't change the fact that Megumi knows that he's the one his family's survival hinges on from a stupidly young age.

We know that Megumi was training/working as a jujutsu sorcerer pre-canon. Gojo straight up tells him at age 4 that he's going to need him to work hard, he references the fact that he's been training megumi for a while in season 1, Megumi admits to nobara that he's lost a comrade on a mission before Yuuji (though Yuuji was the first that was his age), and Megumi knows a lot of the people in this world. By the time canon starts, he's been training with Kamo since before Kamo entered school, so for 3-4 years minimum, and Mai knows him as well. Kamo straight up says that Megumi's got more talent than the head of the Zenin clan by his first year, and his Grade 2 status at entrance means he's considered a prodigy. There's also a lot of little scenes that suggest that Megumi's been doing this a while. When Gojo's talking to Yuuji about the detention center fight, he makes a few comments about how Megumi likely understood the reality of the fight and just how bad their odds were better than the other two, suggesting 1) megumi has the experience already to do that and 2) Gojo has witnessed him in the field enough to get a sense of how he evaluates situations. He's been doing this a while.

But the thing is that he's also passively suicidal the entirety of season 1. And that's probably because he spent his entire life believing he was going to die young.

He probably doesn't think of it as being passively suicidal, but he absolutely is. The sacrifice bunt vs Yuuji's homerun in season 1 is SUCH A GOOD MICROCOSM OF HIS CHARACTER.

Yuuji has the blind confidence of a very young god who was never informed that there were other gods that were older and more powerful and will kick his fucking ass. Like, he will be in Sukuna's throne room after the man ripped his heart out and Literally Killed Him and still be like "I will beat your entire ass." No doubt. No hesitation. I simply love him.

Megumi, meanwhile, walks into fights knowing he will find one that he can't win. Yuuji thinks he can beat anyone, but Megumi defaults to the assumption that he can't win in a way that is really suggestive of a very, very deep underlying mental issue.

I don't know if you're anime-only or if you know what the "trump card" gojo refers to during his training scene with Megumi, so I'll confine it to what's already appeared in the anime. Throughout the anime, there's multiple times where it's alluded to the fact that Megumi has some kind of "trump card" where he can take his enemy down with him. Gojo specifically refers to it as "dying to win." Sukuna even recognized to some degree that he was pulling it during their fight and called it "burning through your own life." Whatever it is, it's a sacrifice play. It's taking someone down with him.

And we see throughout the anime multiple times where he almost pulls it. Sukuna is the biggest example, but he likely almost pulled it twice in the fight against Hanami during the Goodwill Event arc. When Hanami first confronts them, Megumi immediately says "Get Inumaki out of here" to Kamo.

And that's fucking weird. Inumaki's a semi-grade one sorcerer, higher than him. He's his very experienced senpai. He's no slouch in a fight. Kamo is older than all of them, has been training his entire life, and is a first grade sorcerer. Out of all of them, Megumi was the baby kohai who should have been leaning on the older students. Instead, he's trying to get them out of the line of fire. He probably saw an immeasurably powerful special grade and decided to pull the same trump card he almost pulled in the fight against Sukuna as soon as Inumaki and Kamo were safe.

Later, when Hanami has Maki by the throat, after he was already hit by her root attack that would kill him if he used cursed energy, he makes the same hand signals he did during the Sukuna fight while thinking about how he's the one who has to make the sacrifice play. He was absolutely killing himself to win.

And that mentality makes so much sense when you consider that Megumi already made the sacrifice play with him and his sister all those years ago.

He's spent his entire life locked into being a sorcerer. It's the collateral keeping himself and his sister alive. He doesn't have a way out. His future employment is collateral for an already-accrued debt; he just doesn't have the option to quit and do something else the way everyone else does. And the thing about being a sorcerer is that the mortality rate is not awe-inspiring, to the point where the Kyoto students canonically tried not to get close to each other because they knew that a decent number of them would be dying young and it would hurt less.

Megumi's not stupid, and he's been doing this for a long time. He's probably been reconciling with his own likely violent death for a long time by the time canon starts, and it really fucking shows with how he approaches fights until the bridge fight. There's something so tragic and sad about that to me. Like, what age was he when he realized this life would probably kill him? When he realized that he would never have a way out?

When you bring in his own morality structure and philosophical approach to life, that entire mindset becomes so fucking interesting. Because Megumi's plainly fucking furious that people did this to him.

Megumi's middle school bullying days is both hilarious and endlessly fascinating in the context of his history. His entire thing is that he hates bad people and believes that we’re born into a fundamentally unjust world. Specifically, he hates people that look at the vulnerable and lack empathy for them, to the point where he ended up going out of his way to beat up every single bully in his middle school an unilaterally enforce peace. He had an entire dramatic speech about how he was doing this because they had hurt others—the worlds based on social construct, "please don't kill me and I won't kill you." They had broken that to make themselves feel strong, and if they did it again in front of him, he'd kill them. All that jazz. And it's really interesting that he never once looks down on the people getting bullied. There's a huge emphasis on strength as tied to value in JJK--Sukuna and Gojo being some of the biggest examples--but Megumi only looks down on a lack of empathy and compassion, not people who are physically weak.

Once that's contextualized with the fact that the person who was supposed to protect him abandoned him and sold him to some very bad people, it becomes a lot more tragic. He's doomed by the narrative and he's self aware of the fact that he's doomed. He spends his entire middle school years kicking the shit out of people who take advantage of people because they can, and I personally think that's because that's exactly what happened to him when he was a kid. There's always a bigger fish, and some pretty fucking big fish have him in a corner. But he's the biggest fish in the pond of his middle school, and he does not put up with people who hurt others just because they can.

He spends his last years before becoming a full time sorcerer acting as the sort of person that never was there for him as a child, and there's something so tragic about that to me. Megumi just reads as someone who's already accepted he's doomed and is so angry he wasn't saved.

Even his name has tinges of tragedy to me. Like, it's the difference between "blessing" and "blessed."

On his face, Megumi seems like he's blessed. He won the genetic lottery. He was born with one of the most powerful techniques in the franchise, the one that the Zenin clan desperately wants. It's rare enough that no one else alive has inherited it. It's suggested that it's the Zenin equivalent to the Six Eyes, and Gojo's the one who's always saying how he alone is blessed by heaven. Even Kamo, who isn't even Zenin, commented during their fight on how much people wanted someone like Maki or Mai to get it instead. I won't comment on manga events, but as it proceeds, it becomes even more obvious just how valuable his technique is considered to be.

But Megumi doesn't seem to particularly care about his technique.

He said at one point that, in middle school, he didn't really want to be a jujutsu sorcerer because he couldn't imagine who he'd want to save (the fact that his first act in the series is to save Yuuji is another discussion entirely that I am so mentally ill about). Megumi spends the series surrounded by people who are extremely impressed by and focused on his technique, but for Megumi? His technique and its value seems to be the thing that trapped him. No one was ever going to let him live in peace, and he was young enough that he had no real way to protect his own interests.

He never got to be a kid who got to dream about what he'd be when he grew up. Other kids got to say they'd be an astronaut, or an actor, or a veterinarian or whatever, and he has known that he would be lucky to not die in wizard school his entire childhood. He is a blessing for other people, for the Zenin who want his technique, for the higher ups who effectively own him until he repays his debt, but he's not blessed. He's just valuable sea glass with collectors circling. He hates his name, and I think he hates what he is as well. He's an extraordinarily strong willed person who hates people who take advantage, but he's spent his entire life with a boot on his neck. that must piss him off.

I think his relationship with jujutsu sorcerer would have potentially been a lot better if it had been a choice for him, but he's someone who intensely values control over himself who has been controlled by the circumstances of his birth his entire life. There are all these tiny ways in the show that he tries to exert control over his own circumstances because he just doesn't have a lot of control over his life and it's just amazing character design.

He's just so tragic to me. I am so mentally unwell over him.

Tsumiki and the fact that she was fully about to fight Maki for a hot minute was a lot harder to settle on, mostly because we just don't get a lot about her. But I actually kind of like those kinds of characters? I get to play more in those sandboxes and have more freedom with the character because I'm just using what's little known about them as a bouncing off point and making shit up for the rest.

And with Tsumiki we just do not have a huge amount because she's in a magic coma when canon starts. What little we have is coming through Megumi, who is a naturally unreliable narrator when it comes to her. Like, in his mind, her primarily defines her as "a good person," and that makes a lot of sense when you consider that this is his big sister who was, effectively, the only source of stability and care he had growing up and is almost completely lost to him by the start of canon. he's the last person i would expect to be an reliable narrator about her.

Fanon (at least what I've seen) seems to have translated what we've seen to her into "kind natured good girl" which I don't entirely agree with? I just don't think those kind of people exist. Like, the one's who are all sunshine and rainbows and kind thoughts all the time. Everyone has negative emotions; it's just a matter of how they deal with them.

Also what little concrete we have on her doesn't necessarily suggest she fits that kind of eternally-caring good girl motif anyway.

There's the big example, where she says she would much rather think about the ones she loves rather than curse anyone. This very notably isn't an idealistic "everyone has good in them" rationalization, but it's more "I have better things to do with my time." Forgiving bad people is a trait that Megumi attributes to her, but he's an unreliable narrator about her, so it may be accurate or it may not be. There's a difference between forgiving someone and taking a policy of non-interference.

It's also suggested that she doesn't actually look down on the absence of forgiveness--she actually comments pretty favorably on it. She says that Megumi's refusal to forgive people is a part of his kindness. This suggests that, even though she goes after him for fighting, it's not some kind of perfectly kind "forgiveness is the right thing to do" rationalization. She recognizes the nuance in Megumi's actions and his anger. The thing she really gets on him for is the fighting itself, not the anger, and fighting 1) has wider impacts on Megumi (physically, mentally, emotionally, on his record, etc) and 2) it's suggested that she gets on him because of these wider impacts. We never actually see her discuss it at all in terms of the people he beats up, and Megumi thinks, in retrospect, that she was picking him to care about the same way that he picks who he saves. Again, he's unreliable, so this may be true and it may not be, but I find her character so interesting if it is true, especially in light of her quote about not cursing people because she'd rather think of her loved ones.

That takes Tsumiki from the kind of "prototypical good girl" character type into the realm of someone who has picked to only care about certain people and approach the rest of the world with polite indifference. She doesn't share Megumi's anger at the world, but she doesn't exactly approach it with starry-eyed idealism either.

A much better example of starry-eyed idealism within JJK is actually Yuuji (pre-Junpei) or Geto (pre-genocidal breakdown) than Tsumiki--and the narrative immediately deconstructs both cases of starry-eyed idealism, suggesting that it doesn't genuinely tie being a "good person" to those approaches to morality.

Both Yuuji and Geto kind of spout like, baby's first philosophy class styles of idealism. And I don't mean that in a derogatory way towards either of them--they're both highly empathetic teenagers who care a lot about the world and people in it who are trapped in a system that is fundamentally hostile. Yuuji has a stance of "even considering killing would affect my soul" and Geto has a stance of "I exist for the sake of protecting those weaker than me," both of which aren't wholly without merit, but both are overly simplistic and lack nuance. Which makes sense, because they're both a teenager's approach to morality. In a safer environment, they could have grown in nuance and had their world views challenged safely. but the system they're both existing in isn't safe and never has been--so Yuuji ends up having to confront his stance on killing when he has to put literal children trapped in inexplicable torment out of their misery, and Geto goes off his rocker entirely.

In contrast, Tsumiki really isn't as idealistic as either of them, from what little we see of her. She never once gets close to their levels of "I want to save everyone" syndrome--it's straight up that she's picked her people to care about and has better things to do with her time than waste it on hate and anger. Contextualizing it within her background, that reads more like a survival strategy than being a sparkly kind perfect good girl.

She was a very young girl who had to shoulder a huge amount of responsibility at a young age. She was stuck in terrible circumstances, living well below the poverty line, with her only support being a brother that was even younger than her. We don't know anything about her mom or bio dad, or how much she knows about/remembers Toji, but it's interesting that Toji's approach to life is the antithesis of Tsumiki's.

Toji was so caught up in his own bitterness towards how he was treated that a big part of why he took Riko's assassination was so he could prove he was stronger than *checks notes* a sixteen year old miracle baby and his repressed boyfriend. In the end, the fact that he was caught up in his bitterness was his downfall, and he said it himself: he normally would have fucked off the second Gojo showed up after the assassination was done. He directly ignored his instincts to prove a monkey like him could take on the pinnacle of jujutsu sorcery, and that's what killed him.

There's not enough in canon to tell us either way if tsumiki had any impressions of the adults in her life, but I honestly really like the idea of her looking at the a life where the adults are neglecting her because they've been consumed by their own anger and hate and purposefully deciding to not let it consume her as well. To discard that kind of stuff, not because she thinks there's good in everyone or that it's horribly wrong to have negative emotions, but because she has the people she loves and she's building a life with them by sheer force of will. She's fleeing the teeth of a beast, not approaching the world through rose-colored glass.

For another thing, we have legitimately two actions that she's canonically taken in the series. One was nail Megumi in the back of the head with a milk carton during a fight, the other was fling her fucking body off a bridge with a homemade bungee chord. Girl's probably not a nun.

I ended up deciding that the core of Tsumiki's character needed to be that had a, for lack of a better word, selfish way of loving people. Not to say that she acts selfishly (if anything, canon shows she's intensely selfless when it comes to the people she loves), but just that she's decided to conserve her efforts and care to center around the people she loves and not care about the whole world and everything in it. In her mind, Megumi's kindness is in part because he's angry on the behalf of other people, which is a trait she doesn't share. She cares about her brother and just straight up doesn't have the time or resources for everyone else. Megumi is her landmine.

There's not enough in canon to contradict this reading of her, which makes her fun to write. So she's a relatively nice and polite girl until her brother's in danger, in which case she's immediately stealing cars and about to throw hands with a girl holding a polearm. She's so fun.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk spoilers #fushiguro tsumiki #fushiguro megumi #sea glass gardens #those that have been following me for a while know that the ask box comes at the risk of 73 different tangents in the answer #that's right folks it's yet another info dump

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starboybutler · 2 years ago

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Cotton Candy Land (Ch.1)

summary: on top of elvis’s already-packed performance schedule, he had been receiving all kinds of violent threats. it had started when they were out of town, in houston, but they seemed to follow him. the first threat had been harmless enough– a shoddy note with chicken-scratch writing that said “i am going to kill you”, but now they were becoming physical– and taking a toll on elvis.

word count: 3496

warnings: age regression, crying, death threats, panic attacks, tantrums

notes: hi! this is my third attempt at a multi-chapter fic, and i hope that it goes well! elvis's age regression has always been a fascinating topic to me, so i wanted to write a fanfiction based on it and how it affected him. i'm including jerry and steve because i like them. we may get smut in the future, as well as some fluff/crushes, but who knows! i'm just really excited to get this first chapter up. shoutout to bee (dontbeecruel) for beta reading!

enjoy!

dim moonlight shone through the thin, white curtains of the work suite, illuminating the room in a pale aura. a heavy, dense silence hung in the air as binder and schilling stood on opposite sides of their paperwork-littered desk, their expressions exasperated.

tonight had been stressful.

on top of elvis’s already-packed performance schedule, he had been receiving all kinds of violent threats. it had started when they were out of town, in houston, but they seemed to follow him. the first threat had been harmless enough– a shoddy note with chicken-scratch writing that said “i am going to kill you”, but now they were becoming physical– and taking a toll on elvis.

in the middle of his performance tonight, two men from the front row hopped up onstage and rushed towards elvis, and things went south. colonel rushed from his seat in the crowd, while jerry, red, and elvis attempted to draw their guns.

the men were quickly subdued, and elvis was dragged off the stage, yelling and screaming that he would kill whoever just charged him. he was furious. the colonel met up with him backstage, and it was suggested to him that the show be stopped due to safety concerns– but elvis insisted he continue. he refused to be pushed off of the stage.

binder pressed his fingers under his aviators, rubbed at the bridge of his nose, and squeezed his eyes shut. he was developing quite the migraine trying to figure out how to deal with all of this. he thought he had security all under control– but knowing the colonel, he had probably done something dumb behind his back to compromise that.

schilling was just as stressed. serving as elvis’s bodyguard, close friend, and public relations– he had a whole myriad of issues to worry about– but the most daunting was the press. he knew those newspaper writers would be on him as soon as they could, asking for any behind the scenes details of the attacks. then there was the problem of elvis’s mental state. even though he insisted he was fine, both binder and schilling knew that the man was growing more and more paranoid with each passing hour. he had barely slept since the first threat. there’s no way he would just shake off this much more jarring one.

“we should…” jerry started, hesitantly. “we should find ep. talk to him. check up on him.”

binder let his sunglasses fall back into place on the bridge of his nose, sighing as he ran a hand through his brunette locks. “will he even let us in his room?” he asks, affixing his wary eyes on schilling. “he's been pretty shaken up lately. he’s not letting anyone in. not even vernon.”

“i know.” jerry sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “i mean, he might let me in, but…”

“over his own father?”

“hey man, vernon and e have a bit of a… rocky relationship.” jerry says, shrugging. “i’m just saying, i might have better chances to be let in.”

binder fell silent, pursing his lips in thought. “it's worth a shot,” he admits, before sighing. “christ– we should really get to all this paperwork though.”

“later.” schilling mutters. “i’m worried about elvis.”

binder gave a curt nod, and followed after the taller man as he stepped out from their workspace. truth be told, he was worried about elvis too– terribly worried– but he just didn't need another earful from the colonel about his ‘hippie work ethic’, and how he was always falling behind on important matters.

sometimes it was maddening how much the colonel was on him. he wanted to walk away at times, but he reminded himself that he took this job for elvis. the colonel was annoying to deal with, of course, but binder needed to stick around to make elvis's job a little more bearable. binder always fought that old toad tooth and nail for ep to have more creative freedoms, but the colonel just had this aura to him. it's like he knew how to twist your words and thoughts just perfectly enough to make you reword yourself until you agreed with him. most of the time, steve opted for pointedly ignoring the man, but sometimes he couldn't help but snap back at him.

jerry was much more skilled at dealing with the colonel. mainly because– for some odd reason– he got along with him. schilling was just that type of guy. he got along with everyone, no matter how unlikeable the other person seemed. maybe it was his good looks, or his southern charm– but whatever it was, the colonel took a liking to him. jerry didn't necessarily see parker as a friend, but he didn't see him as an enemy either. when binder asked about it, schilling said that him and the colonel were a “strictly business” arrangement, and that they just happened to agree in those terms.

hell, maybe jerry should take his job. they’d be a lot more productive without parker poking his nose into everything binder did, and then purposely doing something to render his plans useless.

the two men stepped into the elevator, pressing the button that would take them directly up to elvis’s private room. it wasn't that far of a ride, as the work suite was in pretty close quarters with elvis– in case he needed to speak to binder or schilling about anything. it felt like forever, though– thanks to the tense situation at hand. usually when they visited elvis, it was under a much more light-hearted guise– like for a game of cards, or to see if they could sneak out on the town without getting recognized.

but nothing like this had ever occurred before. who knows how elvis would be feeling? he was so hard to predict sometimes– you’d think he'd be feeling one way after a certain event, only to find him feeling the complete and exact opposite.

the elevator halted, the doors slowly opened and let them onto their desired floor. it was quiet– almost eerily so– as they approached the large, intricately decorated double doors, steeling themselves with a deep breath.

schilling knocked tentatively, holding his breath as he waited for a response.

nothing.

he didn't seem phased. he just knocked again, a bit firmer this time, and spoke loudly enough so whoever was inside could hear.

“ep? it's…it’s jerry ‘n steve,” he said softly, biting his lip. “we uh– wanted to check on ya.”

silence.

binder was starting to get worried at this point– and it's obvious that schilling was as well. the way his brows furrowed together tightly told steve everything he needed to know.

“try the doorknob.” binder said, nodding towards one of the shiny, golden knobs. schilling hummed and tentatively gripped one of them, attempting to turn it and stiffening when it obliged, allowing one of the large doors to open.

steve swallowed heavily. elvis’s doors were almost never unlocked.

he looked over to see jerry borderline panicking. his eyes were wide, and he seemed to be frozen on the spot as he stared into the darkness of the room before him. binder placed a hand on his shoulder lowering his voice a fraction.

“hey– don't panic,” he muttered, giving the younger man’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “we haven't gone in yet. don't assume the worst.”

“okay.” schilling gulped, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to steel himself. “okay. yeah.”

they walked into the room slowly. it was cold and dark– almost pitch black, save for a small bit of moonlight peeking through a crack in the curtains. steve stumbled over his feet a few times, but jerry seemed to know the room like the back of his hand. he swiftly made his way over to the right-hand side of the room, calling out anxiously.

“elvis? it's us, man!”

there was still no response, but binder became aware of a soft, barely-present noise coming from the bed tucked away in the corner. he strained to listen out, trying to figure out what the source of the noise was, only to get thrown off by schilling yelling out again, panicked.

“elvis–!”

“shh!” binder hushed, making jerry's head whip around to face him, half-curious, half-pissed. before he could snap at steve for shushing him in a moment of panic, he seemingly heard the noise as well.

steve held a hand out, blindly feeling for the edge of the mattress. he sat himself down, leaning forward until the noise grew into a more distinctive sound.

someone was crying.

“elvis…?” steve murmured, blinking in attempt to adjust to the dark of the room. “is that you?”

only then, he spotted a lump under the blankets of the bed, quivering and jumping with each harsh noise that left it. instinctively, steve reached out and pulled the blankets away, revealing a red-faced, trembling, crying elvis.

he was curled up into a ball, sniffling gently into the synthetic fur of a small plush bear that was clutched to his chest. his tears glittered in the faint light, illuminating his flushed cheeks– the small bit of his face that they could actually somewhat see.

he looked so small, like a little boy.

“g’way,” elvis sniffled, trying to hide his face behind the now soaked stuffed animal. “leave me ‘lone.”

no one spoke for a brief moment– just out of pure shock. out of all the possible things they could have discovered, this wasn't even a possibility for them– but here they were.

in reality, maybe they should have seen a sort of breakdown coming. the death threats weren't the only thing bothering elvis. the cancellation of his overseas tour had kickstarted this whole series of events. after that, he started his american tour, which was a whole other stressor for him– then the colonel was still so adamant about him performing at the goddamn international twice a day. in other words, elvis was at his limit– and while he had the temper of a thousand suns… he was most likely just exhausted rather than angry.

still…to see him crying, cuddled up to a plush toy was far from expected. though, now that binder pondered on it, it did make a bit of sense. elvis didn't have the easiest of childhoods– growing up dirt poor with only his momma and his love of comic books to skirt him by. maybe what they were seeing was elvis’s way of trying to relive that childhood.

jerry spoke first. it felt appropriate, seeing as he had a closer relationship with elvis. with a curious expression, he knelt down by the bed until he was eye level with the sniffling, trembling elvis.

“hey, you okay, ep?” he asks lowly, his voice gentle and laced with concern. “It’s jerry. a-and steve. we came to check on you, ‘cuz we were worried ‘bout ya after what happened on stage–”

“no!” the raven haired man cried out, harshly jerking his body so that he was facing the wall opposed to schilling. “no no no! don’ talk about that!” he cried out, his voice broken and utterly distraught at the reminder of what went down on stage. he was being absolutely petulant, the tears streaming down his face becoming fatter. jerry cursed under his breath as elvis continued his tantrum. “d-d-don’ wanna think ‘bout it! j-jus wanna go home!”

“alright, alright,” jerry muttered lowly, his expression grew more concerned as elvis went on, his grip on the stuffed bear tightened significantly as he thrashed around. steve felt absolutely helpless as he watched the other man try to calm elvis down, only for the dark haired man to thrash around more wildly in frustration.

binder felt horrible for his boss. seeing him so clearly distraught made his heart clench in a painful way. he could have done a better job to prevent this pain. maybe if he had pushed back against the colonel more– elvis wouldn't be in such a pained mindset.

spurred on by his guilt, he slowly extended a hand towards his boss, laying it on his shin gently. elvis slowed in his thrashing for a moment, thrown off by the touch. he stared at steve, who was just giving him a patient, understanding look. schilling set his jaw, taking the momentary calm as an opportunity to speak once more.

“we’re here, elvis. we just want you to be okay.” he murmured.

the man stilled, his chest heaving as the tears continued to roll down his cheeks hotly, staining the satin of his top with little wet blotches. his wailing slowly turned into sporadic whimpers, his shaky hands reaching out for either of the two men beside him for comfort. they obliged him, scooting closer to elvis and allowing him to cling onto them as tightly as he needed to. he pressed his tear-stained face into the crook of binder’s neck, making the man jolt in surprise. elvis continued sniffling, his plush bear now dangling in his grasp as he weakly sobbed into steve’s warm skin.

the men shared a look, a mix of bewilderment, relief, and slight fear. how long would elvis be like…this?

“what's the matter, elvis?” schilling asked, rubbing a large hand up and down his back. when all he got in response was a series of harsh, hiccupy breaths, jerry hushed him and pat him on the back firmly. “hey, c’mon. it's alright. no more tears, you're alright.”

“take a deep breath.” binder said softly, his voice laced with an unsure, wavering tone that he inwardly cursed at himself for. “just breathe.”

the dark-haired man took a series of deep, shaky breaths, before he lifted his head from the damp crevice of binder’s skin. his eyes were red and glassy, his face shiny with his tears. his lip was trembling– giving him the look of a lost little boy. binder felt an overwhelming urge to protect him.

“...’m sorry,” elvis muttered, his voice soft and hoarse from his earlier crying. “d-didn't mean ‘t yell.” he sniffles, his face flushed with shame as he avoided eye contact with either man. “‘m a bad boy.”

“no, no,” jerry said softly, shaking his head. “you're not bad.”

“yeah.” binder agreed softly, moving a stray piece of hair from elvis’s eyes. “you’ve had a rough day. you're allowed to be upset.”

“b-but i yelled,” he murmured. “i-i yelled at you….’n…i-i-i was bein’ mean.”

“that’s okay. we don't care about that now. we just wanna be sure that you're alright.” steve explained, watching as elvis pawed at his eyes feverishly. “are you alright?”

“mhm.” elvis answered with a pitiful little sniffle, leaning into binder once more. “i’m jus’ tired…’n scared…lonely,” he admitted, pulling the tear stained bear close to his chest. “wan’ go home.”

“i know,” schilling piped up. “we just got a little while longer, and we’ll be back at graceland, playin’ football in the yard. how's that sound?”

“wanna go home to all ‘m stuffies,” he mumbled, rocking back and forth gently. “a-all them in my room, up in ‘m closet…” elvis said softly, smiling gently to himself.

“s…stuffies?” steve asked, curious.

elvis wipes at his nose with his sleeve. “l-like this guy..!” he said, holding up the brown bear in his arms. “e-e-except at home, i-i got lions, ‘n tigers, a-and even little b-b-bunnies….”

“is that right?” schilling asked, a small smile on his lips. “do they all have names?”

“mhm,” his boss muttered, shy as he idly played with his stuffed animal's arms. “all of ‘em.”

“maybe when we get back, you can give us a little tour.” jerry mused, giving elvis a patient little smile.

elvis stared at schilling owlishly, before looking away and flushing a light pink high on his cheekbones. he pressed his face into the fur of his bear once more. “okay,”

steve felt the clenching in his heart be replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling. seeing him calm, and somewhat demure made him flood with relief– elvis truly seemed happy when he was like this.

was it odd? maybe a little. steve had never seen anything like it where he was from, but in this line of work, he learned to be open-minded. he was just glad it was him and schilling, one of elvis’s closest friends, that happened to stumble upon him in this state of mind, and not someone that might have set him off more– like the colonel, or maybe even vernon.

with a little hum, steve stood. “well, we need to get going. we got a lot of work to get to.”

elvis’s face fell. he looked disappointed. “oh. okay.”

jerry cocked his head to the side at his reaction, leaning down so that he was eye-level with him. “...what's wrong?”

elvis averted his gaze from the two men shyly, swaying back and forth lazily as he muttered softly into the soft, synthetic fur of his teddy bear.

“wan’ you to stay,”

“me?” jerry asked. “or steve?”

“both,” elvis sniffled. “don' wanna be alone.”

jerry and steve shared a curious look, before looking back at the small, frail looking elvis.

“you want us to stay with you?” steve asked, to which elvis nodded in response meekly, wiping at his eyes. his movements were growing more and more sluggish, his eyes becoming droopy and lidded as he spoke again.

“mhm. need…what if someone tries ‘t attack me ‘gain? you’ll stop ‘em, right?” he mumbled, eyes beginning to flutter shut as he slurred out his words. “you’ll protect yittle elvie..?”

steve watched as the man dozed off, the ear of his stuffie between his lips as his breath began to even out. jerry pressed a hand to his lower back, guiding him to lay down fully in the soft, plush pillows.

“i’ll protect you, bud.” schilling muttered, his expression fond as he watched the man nuzzle his nose into his stuffed animal, a small, content smile on his lips.

binder blinked up at schilling, who was already kicking off his shoes and making himself comfortable in the bed beside elvis. he sat up, his eyebrows furrowed.

“are we actually gonna sleep in here with him?”

“i am.” jerry answered simply, settling on his side. “he asked me to, so i’m gonna stay. he needs me.”

“but our work–”

“christ man, if you're so worried about that you don't gotta stay!” schilling whispered, annoyed. “y’can leave if you want, but i’m staying here– where it matters.”

binder felt his face flush with shame under schilling's scornful gaze. he hadn't meant to come off like he didn’t care about elvis, but he just didn't want to have to deal with another long, boring lecture from the colonel because they were behind again. all of this stuff was kind of starting to get to him as well. all he wanted was to get his work done in peace– without hearing the colonel butcher his name and call him a hippie.

“no, i…i’m sorry,” steve muttered, fidgeting with his ascot idly. “i’ll stay. i just– ugh, i don’t wanna hear his mouth in the morning.” binder sighed, undoing the fabric around his neck.

schilling's expression softened slightly in understanding. “yeah, i hear ya. i know he never yells at me directly– but man, i hate hearin’ him yell period.” he murmured, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. steve huffed warily in amusement, before silence fell over the both of them.

“...y’shouldn’t let him talk to you like that.”

“i don't…uh, really have a choice.” steve admitted. “i’m not…the confrontational kind. i prefer to push back in a much less direct way. he just…he just keeps approaching me, though, like he knows how uncomfortable he makes me.”

“he prolly does,” jerry hummed, his voice growing tired. “wouldn't put it past ‘im.”

binder smirked crookedly. “you getting tired on me, schilling?”

“hell yeah,” he mumbled, his eyes halfway closed. “been a long day. we all need some sleep.” he yawned, finally shutting his eyes.

“fine. goodnight.” steve hummed, laying his head down. he didn't get a response– just snoring.

he laughed to himself, studying the two men in front of him. elvis was fast asleep, clutching onto that same little bear for dear life as he chewed on it's ear, mumbling incoherently in his sleep. it made binder think. he mentioned his collection of plushies at home… so how long has this been a thing?

taking elvis’s past into account, and his relationship with his mother, binder suspected that this was more that a quirk or a hobby of his. he seemed like he was genuinely a little boy. like he couldn't control his emotions. that pitiful, petulant look in his eyes, those tears rolling down his flushed cheeks, the worn stuffed bear he clutched onto like a lifeline– maybe it was a lot deeper than just another thing he did.

steve could only wonder on the specifics as he dozed off, the soft snores of the other two men lulling him into a dreamless sleep.

#elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis x reader #jerry schilling x reader #steve binder x reader #elvis presley #jerry schilling #steve binder #elvis 2022 #agere #age regression

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gogandmagog · 1 year ago

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HELLO, I don’t have a tumblr but I wanted to say hello. A group of us on facebook saw a post of yours shared there, about your thoughts on a Gilbertless Anne. And we all loved the idea so much! You have my heart and sword! But then when I came here to see what else you posted, I saw you link someone to your fanfiction in a question they asked, and I gasped when I saw you are the same person who wrote the Smugglers Jug! You are such a good writer. The facebook group of us (and some here with tumblers) all found your story because KWAK has favorited you, which begs the question... how does it feel to be gods favorite?? HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE LIVING MY DREAM? LOL. No doubt why you’ve been favorited, you’re so frickin’ talented! Now we’re all praying to God that you will write this fanfic about acrobat Anne and rakish Gilbert! Any chance of this? And will you ever finish the smugglers Jug and your other fics? Just curious.

Oh, man. Thanks so much! This means a lot to me! I did see that post jump to the top of my notifs yesterday, and it was a big surprise because it’s just months and months old and long since buried. I thought, okay, someone popular reblogged, I guess! About finishing the fan fictions that I’ve posted... yes, I will, they’re not forgotten! I’m hoping to have the time to complete the Smugglers Jug in November. My boss and his family leave for Poland then, where they will stay for the winter months. This frees up my schedule immensely! Part two is about 2.5K words right now, and I do tinker with it now and then, but I still have miles and miles to go with it. As for future fics, I’m so sorry... I don’t ever see myself being able to write that AU. I really feel that to pull it off effectively, it’d need to be novel length; a venture I may only have time for when I’m fifty! But I love that you loved the idea enough to ask. And I think some of your friends from the same group also messaged me! You guys are so generous! And appreciated! To being in katherine-with-a-k's favorites... you know someone else here once mentioned this to me! I have to say, just as I did then, that I understand that it’s a huuuuge compliment! She’s the best of the best, isn’t she? But I’m seriously so embarrassed about it (I’m overall a very embarrassed person, every day of my life); finding out that the iconic kwak read something I’d posted felt just like... like if Anne, when she was about to meet Mrs. Charlotte E Morgan, was forced to hand over an old Story Club sketch! Sheesh.

#ya'll are so cute fr

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therunawaykind · 2 years ago

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Therunawayupdates!

Right everyone, Hello people! This is a long post so buckle up!

You all know or at least have heard the basic idea when it comes to this little project/initiative within the server which was kinda inspired by what missmonsters used to do on her discord server as well as just Jo…just a constant inspiration. As of right now, this is a project initiative thing that is starting up/being held on my Discord Server and hopefully maybe sometime in the future it'll be posted/work somehow through Tumblr

This is a fun initiative for writers both experienced and inexperienced to take part in! We all know writing can be very fucking tedious at times…so why not add prompts into that mix? That always has the chance of being quite ridiculous and crazy! That’s all part of the fun, right?

As of right now the plan going forward is there will be prompt drops a few times a month there isn’t a set schedule for this initiative like it is all subject to change and adapt if people feel like they’re getting too many prompts or maybe even possibly not enough prompts! In addition to that the only time there should some sort of schedule is if someone or multiple people who is participating want to start a prompt challenge with one person or a group of people it is in those circumstances there is a deadline aka a schedule.

Now I imagine the prompts on some occasions are probably gonna be wild, crazy, ridiculous and whatever else you can possibly think of. With that it is in my head that maybe once a month at least at some stage throughout this lil project there will be prompts…ideas?....inspirations? Given out…picked? For people taking part in this and what I mean by that is I do like the idea of fics being inspired by movies, books, TV Shows literally any medium you can think of. I do think it would just be a really fun and cool experience for people and seeing the progress of it all.

One thing I do wanna make clear is there is no one set person running this thing, I didn’t wanna risk the chance of ruining the fun and spontaneity of this lil project by just assigning one person to be in charge. Unless there is like a big announcement or like as I mentioned before the assigning of prompts for fics such as a movie, TV shows, books etc, it is all between the group of people taking part which I’m hoping will be a nicer experience and rules won’t be needed. Though if it is needed I feel like you all know by now you can contact me or one of the mods and we’ll get whatever it is under control.

I think that’s everything…..besides well okay the tumblr blog @runawayswrite that is going to be used for reblogging the fics that were created and written using the prompts discussed in that channel. The tags that will more than likely be used for that blog/submissions will probably be #RunawaysWrite and #RunawayPrompts. Now I’m also including #RunawayPrompts because I’m thinking depending on how the prompts go I will also post them to Tumblr for the vast amount of writers on this hellsite, just for an added thing for fun even if it was just random followers adding a silly lil thing to this whole initiative that I thought would be nice and fun especially if they didn’t have Discord or straight up didn’t wanna join.

This post is just letting people and other writers know on the off chance that they do wanna join the discord and participate or just participate through Tumblr at some stage even if that is at a later date. If people do wanna join my discord do just send me a message!

#therunawayupdates #therunawaytalks #therunawaythoughts #RunawaysWrite #RunawayPrompts #the runaways #therunaways #therunawaykindupdates

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m1ckeyb3rry · 6 months ago

Note

I knew I fucking forgot something….um anyways will paste that reply here LMFAO

I think this is my sign to go read that fic and see if I have any ideas but the moment you said killing I was like oh. And there go a majority of the options LMFAOO but lowk….nah I’ll just read it first I mean surely there could be someone besides Kaiser too…maybe if you set it in a slightly alternate universe? I should definitely go read that first though LOL (so true though tabieitaken just too mature ugh)

Ok and then my reply because I forgot to hit send earlier smh

Omg nooo wait stay safe on the plane!! Idk if they still like give peanuts as snacks regularly but

100k words in one month is truly insane omg even in my most productive times I don’t think I’d reach the equivalent of getting that much done HAHAHA

No fr like please I was my hair and I do normal things I wear

And omg I passed by someone else’s brief analysis post and they were like “how bad do their parents have to be that Rin can’t even remember their eyes” WHAT I hadn’t thought of if being like a compelte flashback through Rin’s eyes but that’s certainly a really interesting take!! And definitely seen a lot floating around of how Sae is so mature and also how neglected they had to be for Sae to be like that at like 7 years old….

Also I forgot that’s how it worked irl tbh I don’t actually watch sports all that much LMAO Ooh that would be interesting but if we get stuck in BM with basically only Isagi on screen I think I’d lose it HAHA

FR MANIFESTING SO HARD

-Karasu anon

HAHHAA NO LITERALLY like i’m sorry i cannot imagine nagi or karasu being down for murder 😭 again the killing aspect makes more sense in the context of the story (it’s not fully set in modern times + jujutsu society in general is crazy) but even then it would be SUCH a huge stretch to make for their characters 😔 atm i can only think of kaiser and maybe barou??? but barou is a bit too serious for the role too…ig that’s easier to workaround but still 😓 and omg if you read it don’t be too surprised it’s a bit of a crazy story truly anything was getting written as i figured out what i wanted out of the story!! plus a lot of plot points seem random without future context…it was very much meant to be a story that has a completely diff tone/meaning upon rereading it!! but then i never finished it so no one gets the experience of knowing the ending and reading the beginning (except me)

luckily planes are pretty stringent abt avoiding allergens nowadays! all peanut stuff is pretty wrapped up/contained to lessen the chance of cross contamination 😩🙏🏻 when i was a kid i was allergic to eggs as well…now THAT was a headache LMAOAO but thankfully i grew out of it

i’m a pretty fast writer when i have motivation (my most popular story for aot i finished the main story in a month and that was 173k words soooo) HAHA i respect people who update slowly and consistently but with me it’s literally as soon as i’ve written and proofread the chapter it’s getting posted so i have no set schedule (also why i literally have no clue when i’m going to update because like if i knew i’d just finish the chapter and post atp 😭)

yes that was the vibe i was getting where his parents are just completely irrelevant to him compared to sae…the itoshis are like weirder and more confusing the more we learn abt them ngl 😓 but honestly them being neglectful makes sense considering sae and rin’s egoist bible entries…like wdym sae never saw his report card because he was so busy with soccer?? what parents gives ZERO fucks abt their kid’s grades to that extent?? even if he’s a soccer prodigy like what if he gets injured he’ll have no backup plan if he’s barely literate 😭

honestly i don’t really watch sports much either!! i’ve never been into them literally all of my knowledge is off of tik tok 😰 i’ve been getting irl soccer edits because of my many saved bllk ones…idk how to tell my fyp that the soccer part is largely irrelevant to me HAHAAH but yeah to my knowledge that’s how it works!! agreed though if anything i hope that they mix up which characters get offers from which clubs so we have a bit of a diff cast if that’s the direction they go in 😩

#answered asks

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xjoonchildx · 5 years ago

Text

guilty | knj x reader | chapter one: how odd

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 2.8K

notes: you guys have been so amazing with your feedback on “guarded” and it warms my heart that you loved hoseok and ms. kim -- so it’s time to show mr. kim some love, too. this series will not be long (probably three parts) but i had to break it into chapters because of the POV shifts. please let me know what you think about this chapter and as usual thank you so much to all the tiger wives and my amazing betas @ladyartemesia and @hobi-gif.

this series is dedicated to the amazing @sahmfanficbts who is an incredible writer, an awesome woman, and kim namjoon’s number one fan.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

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

“You fired me?”

Namjoon turns at the sound of the quiet accusation that comes from over his shoulder.

There is color in your cheeks as you cross the length of his office. Your jaw is tight, one lock of hair falling free from the loose knot at the base of your neck. One perfectly-arched brow is raised high.

You look hurt.

Beautiful -- but hurt.

Guilt hits Namjoon like a freight train.

“Of course not,” he deflects, taking a seat. He picks up one of the papers scattered across his desktop and pretends to read it carefully. “I reassigned you to a position I believe will be a better fit.”

There’s no way he could miss the irritated breath you suck between your teeth but Namjoon keeps his eyes glued to that paper in his hand. He realizes, absently, that it’s a takeout menu.

He hopes you haven’t noticed the same thing.

“Well, was there some kind of problem with my performance?”

Namjoon winces at the dejection in your tone. He finally forces himself to meet your gaze and finds your eyes brimming with frustration.

He certainly can’t blame you on that account -- you have every right to be frustrated. You shouldn’t be made to feel somehow lacking when it’s him who is lacking in every way that counts.

“Quite the opposite,” he says carefully. “I think it’s a waste of your skills to have you keeping my schedule and taking calls. Seokjin can make better use of your talents on the business side.”

A strained silence settles over the room and Namjoon clears his throat before looking back down to his papers.

“Well, the new girl is terrible at this,” you say flatly. “I certainly wouldn’t have let me walk in here unannounced. She’s too busy looking at her phone to look after you.”

Namjoon knows you’re right about that.

In the few short months you’ve worked for him, you’ve proven yourself to be unnaturally attuned to his needs. You knew without asking which calls he was trying to avoid and when, when to clear his schedule the day after a rough night on the streets. You’ve kept his office stocked with every comfort he’d ever wanted and some he hadn’t even realized he wanted.

You are the single best assistant he’s ever had and he couldn’t stand to keep you around for one minute longer.

You don’t wait for Namjoon to formulate some kind of response to your damning and accurate observation. By the time he looks back up from his papers, you’ve already turned on your heels to leave.

He watches you walk away with regret weighing heavy in his gut.

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

Namjoon’s keys clang loudly when he drops them on the table in his foyer.

This penthouse is the best apartment in one of the best buildings in Seoul. It’s filled with lavish furnishings and expensive paintings and boasts a stunning view of the Han River. It’s one of the finest residences in the city.

And Namjoon hates it.

The vacant rooms and the echoing walls seem to mock him, making him all the more aware of how empty it is. How completely devoid it is of any life. Most nights he stays at the office until he’s delirious with exhaustion just so he can collapse straight into bed once he gets here.

Tonight though, for once, this place seemed like a better option.

Namjoon pulls off his tie and releases the first few buttons of his shirt before pouring a scotch.

He’s drinking too much these days -- he knows it -- but the drinks help slow the constant movement of his mind. They help dull the anxiety that seems to take over when he’s too still for too long.

He walks to the window to look out over the night sky.

This is his favorite way to see the city -- high up enough that everything looks pristine. Get closer and you’ll be assaulted by the noise and the crowds and the pollution. Get closer and the flaws are too hard to ignore.

“Was there some kind of problem with my performance?”

Your words echo as clearly in Namjoon’s mind as if you’d spoken them out loud in this cavernous apartment. He takes a seat in his plush chair and sips his drink, savoring the familiar burn of the scotch.

He thinks back to when you both were kids.

Your father -- one of the few decent men in his own father’s inner circle -- didn’t bring you around much. He can only recall a few social functions you’d attended before taking off to university. News of your father’s death came shortly after that and it had been years since Namjoon had even spared a thought for you.

Then you came walking through his office door.

You definitely weren’t a kid anymore, that much was clear.

What was much less clear was why you -- a college graduate -- turned up one day, desperate for a job. He hadn’t questioned your need for fast work and fast money and you hadn’t questioned the long hours and strange requests.

You repaid him with a flawless work ethic.

And he repaid you by fantasizing about fucking you blind over his desk basically every chance he got.

So yeah, there was a problem, all right.

The problem was Kim Namjoon.

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

“There you are.”

The voice on the other end of the line practically slithers into Namjoon’s ear when he answers the late call.

“Mina,” he sighs, infusing the name with a displeasure that comes through loud and clear across the connection. “This line is for business only, you know that.”

Mina makes an exasperated sound.

“I wouldn’t have to call your cell if you’d return my messages from the office. I’ve been trying to reach you for more than two weeks now. I’m starting to feel like you’re avoiding me.”

Namjoon pulls the phone away to allow himself a long exhale before putting it back to his ear.

“How did you get this number?”

“You’re hung up on that?” Mina groans. “Honestly, Namjoon. I reached out to your new assistant who was more than happy to pass it along.”

Fuck. He’s going to have to fire the new girl, isn’t he?

“She’s a nice girl,” Mina muses. “Far more competent than that last assistant of yours. Excellent decision on replacing that woman if she fails to complete a task as simple as delivering a message. Three messages, actually.”

Namjoon mulls that information over in silence.

“Where is your mind these days, Mr. Kim?” Mina tries to cover her displeasure with a laugh but he hears it anyway. “You’ve been so distant lately. It’s been too long since we had the chance to enjoy one another’s company.”

Namjoon can envision the pout she is wearing on the other end of the line and it aggravates him beyond belief. Pouting ranks near the very top of his least favorite female manipulation tactics.

Pouting makes him want to put his fist through a wall.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes,” he mutters. “I’m here.”

“Are you drunk?”

Namjoon grits his teeth, fingers tightening around his glass.

“No, Mina,” he grinds out. “Not drunk. Just not in the mood. Not anymore.”

She sputters on the other end of the line as Namjoon ends the call.

Maybe he should feel bad about being so blunt, but he doesn’t. It’ll be a week before she’s onto the next wealthy, connected man. Women like Mina make sport of locating and latching on to power.

She’ll survive.

Namjoon stares out into the night sky and sips his scotch, letting his mind wander back to the one piece of the conversation that did capture his interest.

What are the chances that you -- a woman with seemingly unerring attention to detail -- forgot to deliver three separate messages from the same caller?

He contemplates that in the dark.

How odd.

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

YOU

Kim Namjoon was the most serious boy you’d ever seen.

Even as a young man, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. You can still close your eyes and remember exactly how he looked back then -- standing solemn at his father’s side, lanky body swimming in a suit he’d not yet grown into. His hair just a touch too long and falling into his eyes.

You thought he was the most handsome boy in all of Korea.

Namjoon kept mostly to himself -- no easy task given that his status alone made him the most celebrated catch amongst the children of the Gajog.

Everyone fought for the attention of the boy who would be king.

It would have been so easy for him to abuse the power he had over his peers, to treat them with disrespect, but Namjoon never did. You noticed how kind he was to the children who idolized him. You noticed how well he managed the volatile moods of his alcoholic father. You noticed how he hovered protectively over his sister.

He never noticed you, of course.

Your own father was careful to limit your exposure to the Gajog and as such, you lived on the outskirts of the social circle. By the time you were a teenager, you’d only spoken to Namjoon directly a handful of times. The few times you did see him face-to-face, you’d had to suffer through that awkward moment before his eyes lit with recognition.

It always took a minute for him to remember who you were, but when he finally did -- every time he finally did -- your heart would stop just a bit at his shy smile.

That was the image you held on to when you held your breath and walked into his office a few months ago. You’d taken a deep breath and prayed that the quiet, kind kid you’d known so long ago hadn’t changed too much over the years. And then you stepped into his posh office.

Kim Namjoon definitely wasn’t a kid anymore.

The Namjoon who stood up from behind his desk to bow a greeting was nothing short of devastating.

Standing in place of the slender boy from your childhood was a man with deep, dark eyes and a striking, angular face. His suit -- cut to fit every line of his body to an exacting standard -- did nothing to conceal his powerful frame. He had grown into the full lips that once seemed a bit too large for his face.

Without a doubt, he’d become the most handsome man in all of Korea.

The shy smile remained, though -- dimples prominent when Namjoon extended a hand to shake yours and you woodenly accepted, blinking back. You’d realized, absently, that you were gawking.

You hoped he hadn’t noticed the same thing.

If Namjoon had picked up on your mortifying reaction to seeing him after all these years, he was far too much of a gentleman to let on. He’d offered you a seat and then listened patiently as you explained that you were in need of a job -- any job -- so long as you could start right away.

You left out the painful details, of course.

Namjoon nodded quietly as you outlined your education and qualifications and emphasized your willingness to serve the Gajog in any role he saw fit. His eyes were warm and reassuring as you spoke, but you still braced yourself for the possibility that he’d send you away empty handed.

He didn’t.

At the end of your impassioned speech, Kim Namjoon made you an offer you could not refuse.

Reporting directly to him and starting right away.

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

The serious boy you’d known so many years ago had grown into an even more serious man.

It didn’t take long on the job to notice the bone-deep melancholy that seemed to emanate from Kim Namjoon. He was good at concealing it in front of others but you saw it clearly. The way he would stand at his window at night, drink in hand, brooding. The way the shadows behind his eyes would surface when he thought no one was looking.

But you were always looking.

You wanted so badly to help.

You wanted to do something to help ease the burden he seemed to carry around at all times. So you threw yourself into the work, memorizing his routines and taking note of the things he needed. You organized his files. You streamlined his schedule. You ran interference on Yoongi and Hoseok and Seokjin on the nights when his moods turned dark and ominous.

Tiny gestures, in the grand scheme of things -- but there were days when you could convince yourself the gestures made a difference.

Days when Namjoon would look at you with a quiet appreciation that made you feel heat down to your toes. Days when his eyes would soften as you’d instinctually met some need he hadn’t voiced out loud. Days when the darkness inside of him seemed to recede and one of those heart-stopping shy smiles would emerge.

You convinced yourself over time that this was enough -- that taking care of him like this would be enough for you.

It had to be enough.

To allow yourself to imagine otherwise was nothing short of delusion.

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

“Eomma?”

You call out into the quiet as you lock the door behind you. You can barely make out the sound of your mother’s soft reply from her bedroom.

This is where she spends most of her days now, shuffling between her bed and her chair, too weak to stand for more than a few minutes at a time. Pill bottles litter the nightstand, obscuring the yellowing photograph of your parents as newlyweds.

“My sweet Ttal,” she rasps, voice hoarse from disuse, “You’re home.”

“I am,” you sigh, sweeping into the room and pulling off your coat. You bend down to drop a kiss on her forehead before taking a seat at her side. Your mother’s once-luminous skin is now spotted with age, eyes cloudy and dull, but she is still one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen.

She flinches when you take one of her hands into your much colder ones.

“Sorry,” you murmur, massaging over the paper-thin skin. “It’s freezing outside. I should have warmed them first.”

She gives your fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Home early again,” she croaks. “Is everything okay at work?”

Her innocent question brings the sadness simmering just under the surface of your thoughts back to a full boil. You still can’t understand why Namjoon chose to reassign you -- and you still can’t forget the sting of getting the news secondhand from your replacement.

Your face falls at the memory and you hope your mother doesn’t notice.

The last thing you’d want to do is add worry to her already long list of concerns.

“Yes, Eomma,” you soothe, smoothing back her hair. She leans into your touch with a tired smile. “Everything is fine. My new boss doesn’t keep me as late as the old one did. But that’s a good thing, right?”

“Right,” she agrees, closing her eyes. “Mrs. Sim left just a short while ago. She brought some Japchae for dinner. Not as good as mine, but not half-bad, either.”

You laugh at the way the corner of her mouth lifts into a smile at her jest.

People like Mrs. Sim are in large part why you’ve fought so hard to keep your mother here in your childhood home. The financial strain has been tough -- particularly when paired with the medical bills -- but you need the help. With no siblings to share your burden, you’ve had to lean on the goodwill of longtime neighbors.

“Leave Mrs. Sim and her Japchae alone mother,” you tease, standing to stretch. “I’m going to get a shower before bed.”

Your mother makes a noise that sounds like approval, but you can tell she’s already drifting off again.

She’s on so many pills these days; a blessing and a curse. More pills means less pain and better rest -- something she desperately needs. But more pills also means far fewer moments of lucidity -- much shorter windows of time for you to enjoy your mother’s quick wit and dry humor.

She’s back in a sleep state before you even make to stand. You stroke your fingertips across her face just as your phone pings in your pocket. You pull it out and very nearly dismiss the routine banking alert altogether -- but something catches your eye.

You swipe into the app to confirm you’re seeing the numbers correctly -- that your tired eyes and tired mind aren’t playing games with you.

They aren’t.

The direct deposit of your paycheck is coming on the date it should, at the time it should. But the number glaring back at you from the screen is higher -- much higher -- than it should be.

A demotion and a raise in the span of one week?

How odd.

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

GLOSSARY:

Gajog: Family

Eomma: Mother

Ttal: Daughter

tag list: @barbikatherine

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon mafia au #bts mafia #ficswithluv #networkbangtan #btswriterscollective #btscreatorscorner #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet

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luminari-mc · 4 years ago

Text

Writer's rules, masterlist and things to know

Hi! I'm Vel, and this is a post to officially say that I'm writing for the Obey Me fandom! („• ᴗ •„)

Requests status: CLOSED! ✍

Askbox: Always open to talk about anything related to Obey Me, writing, or life in general!

I can write:

MC x Any of the demon brothers* (romantic and/or platonic)*

MC x Dateables* (minus Luke)

Poly!MC x Demon brothers*

Fluff*

Angst*

Hurt/comfort*

Slice of life*

Headcanons* (requests: either one or multiple characters, cannot be Demons Bros + Dateables)

Short scenarios*

Multiple chapter series

◇ MC will be gender neutral by default unless stated/requested otherwise.

*Can be requested.

I do not write:

NSFW

MC x Luke

Yandere

Racism

Dub-con/Non-con

Demoncest

Things to know about me! :

I have ADHD! So there will be days where I'll write a lot, and some where I won't entirely (life is busy). I'm also trying to get out of a long writer's block.

About the requests, there's a chance that I won't do some of them, mainly because I thrive off of ideas that inspire me to write. I have a better chance of posting stuff rapidly if the request is short/limited to one or two characters, too.

I absolutely LOVE writing fluff and angst stuff!

I love writing dialogues. Like, maybe a bit too much.

I don't have a regular schedule. As said before, I'll post whenever I can/feel good enough to write something down. Hope you can understand!

I'm very friendly! Like seriously, I don't bite. I've smiled more than once seeing people from the fandom interact between each other because of how sweet they were, so my ask box will be open to talk. :)

I post some of my own OM! stuff (aka one shots and longer fics, or unrequested headcanons/scenarios etc) whenever I can.

My first language isn't English, so please forgive any typos or grammatical mistakes in my writing if you see any c':

Masterlist ♡

Anons : 📷 anon

I'll update this post more in the future! In the meantime, I hope you'll all enjoy what I write!

Peace (─‿‿─)♡

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steddieunderdogfics · 1 year ago

Text

This week's writer spotlight feature is: @ciriceart! They have sixteen works under the Stranger Things tag and ten under the Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson tag over on Archive of our Own!!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following of their works by CultOfAdoration:

I get this feeling I'm in motion

Rule Me Captive, Drain Me Empty

a good age to meet the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with

to have everything you can see

They care alot about capturing the accurate voice of the characters they write about, and put lots of thought and care into character motivations and worldbuilding :} - anonymous

Below the cut, @ciriceart answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I just like the dynamic, and getting to write dialogue and think about conflicts that might naturally crop up between the two. I don’t think that there was a chance for them to get along well at all if not for the kids dragging them both into the end of the world, so it’s kind of fun to find different ways for them to get past it. Less of a “they would never get together” and more of a “under what circumstances would they get together” situation.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I think I just like anything that falls into character study or backstory development. I used to eat up anything under the hurt/comfort or angst tags as well, and those can all go pretty well together. Anything that even vaguely evokes Orpheus and Eurydice is also pretty much guaranteed to get my attention.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Slow burn. A lot of my writing never sees the light of day (or outside groupchats), but a majority of it is “will they, won’t they” slow burn with the two kind of dancing around the subject until it feels inevitable.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I’m not sure if I have a singular favorite fic. “New York Hardcore” by CaptainHoney is pretty high up there. It’s part of a larger series, but that first entry stuck with me. The tag “Steve deserves to be happy and go ham in the moshpit” is the truest statement I’ve ever read about that man.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve been working on a sort-of AU road trip fic about Steve, Jonathan, and later a hitchhiking Eddie, as they go cross-country. It’s very “right person, wrong place, wrong time”. Right now it’s just a big mess of notes and writing sprints, though.

What is your writing process like?

Almost everything starts off as scribbles in a notebook/Notes app, or taken down in notes app using speech-to-text on my phone. I always have to do the worst version first or it just doesn't feel right. Everything I want to be included gets thrown in there with very little regard for eloquence or order. From there, I break everything down into bullet points that I can expand on whenever I have time, and move things around into chronological order.

Do you have any writing quirks?

There are some words that I feel like I overuse. Things like “definitely”, “just”, and “very”, which reflects my real life speech habits.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I try holding off posting until I’m finished if only because it feels SO bad if I don’t manage to complete something. It doesn’t usually work. I get excited, so usually I end up starting to post when things are maybe 60% finished. Schedules remind me too much of school to be fun.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I don’t think I have one I’m most proud of, but I don’t have one that I’m not proud of either. “a good age to meet the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with” is one that I thought a lot about and still think about, even though it’s pretty short. I only posted it very recently, but I wrote it shortly after Vol. 2 when thinking too hard about Robin and what her personal life might be like after everything.

How did you get the idea for Rule Me Captive, Drain Me Empty?

I thought it would be interesting to explore the two of them fumbling through kink and figuring things out in a more organic way. It’s something I always find quite cute, and it feels more natural to me when they’re not exactly well versed in the ins and outs of “proper” kink etiquette and terminology.

I’m also a Dom-leaning switch Steve truther and I’m out here in the trenches.

When writing to have everything you can see, what was something you didn’t expect?

The response to it from readers, mostly. I had several people letting me know that the subject matter is more outside of their usual interests but that they ended up enjoying it and seeing the appeal regardless. That’s a pretty big compliment to me because I’m somewhat in the same boat.

What inspired to have everything you can see?

So, when I don’t share an interest with others, I get really heavily invested in why they like that thing, or how the interest came about. It could be about anything - books, music, shows, ships, spirituality, kinks. I just like to Know, I like “getting it”.

I wrote that fic to understand “under what circumstances would this be A Thing for this character” in a somewhat judgment free zone. Just going right the hell into it like “alright, this is what these characters are into. Make it believable and make it fun”. It works!

What was your favorite part to write from I get this feeling I'm in motion?

I think it’s the implication of how routine hangouts like that are, with Steve and Robin. They go to her house, they get snacks and drinks, and they immediately make themselves comfortable in her room. There’s something really sweet about a best friend making themselves at home in your house, and just existing beside you.

How do/did you feel writing Rule Me Captive, Drain Me Empty?

Nervous! I get really in my head about how I go about things at first. Am I being too needlessly verbose? Too much exposition? Do people even care about all the pointless errands they’re going on, or should we just get right to the bedroom?

But then I calm down and figure, I’m having fun writing about Steve intentionally dragging Eddie around town, and everyone else is just going to have to make peace with that.

What was the most difficult part of writing I get this feeling I'm in motion?

Does “not immediately oversharing all of my personal hang-ups in the author's notes” count?

Actually, it was probably making the “repercussions” of Steve’s actions still be scary enough for him to internalize as a kid, but not be too disastrous or dangerous for him. I’m still not sure how I feel about it.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

It’s very small. In “a good age (…)”, Robin thinks about what it might’ve been like if Steve were her brother and they (affectionately) come to the conclusion that they would have been little shitheads to each other as kids.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a handful of steddie illustrations based on fics that I’m waiting for the green light on to post, and quite a number of fics I’m chipping away at. Watch this space!

Thank you to our author, @ciriceart, and our nominator! See more of @ciriceart’s works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#steddie fic recs #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday

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lovingonrepeat · 4 years ago

Text

Paint It White // Liu Yangyang

Day three of my Kinktober // NCT 2020 Project

DAY 3: Yangyang + mirror sex → “You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

Word count: 1.7k || Genre: smut

Warnings: femdom, mirror sex, semi public sex, edging, brat taming, punishment, begging, restraints, hair pulling, finger sucking, cum eating

This work is completely fictional. Feedback is welcome. Hate will be blocked. Thank you!

(credit x)

Note to self, thank Taemin.

If Yangyang was honest, he would realize how this was all his fault. He wouldn't have tried to play with your thigh and get you hot and bothered while you were eating lunch with the WayV boys. He wouldn't have sent you those dirty texts, trying to get a rise from you while you were watching a movie in the dorm with everyone. He would've listened to you when you told him to stop trying to grind into you while you were in the crowded SM elevator. And he definitely wouldn't have grabbed your ass when he thought he saw a staff member looking at you.

He knew that you were getting irritated at his actions, but that's what he was counting on. He was looking for you to finally break, so when you snapped and dragged him into the empty practice room, locking the door behind you and looking at him with fire in your eyes, he couldn't stop the thrill that coursed straight through him.

It was all Yangyang's fault, and he loved it.

He thought he had everything figured out, but he wasn't expecting you to do this. You had managed to take a quick look at the schedule posted outside the practice rooms before choosing this one, specifically for the fact that Taemin had been the last one to use it. You went straight for the ties he'd been using for his Criminal promotions as soon as the door was locked, and you felt the way arousal coursed through you as you saw the wide eyed look he gave you.

And that's how Yangyang ended up here, clothes long gone and forced onto his knees with his hands tied behind his back. He's set up right in front of the mirror as you play with him, embarrassment shooting through him as you force him to watch himself.

He can't control his moans, desperate to be able to reach out and pull your bra and panties off so that he can see you better, and so that he wasn't the only one fully exposed like this. But he can't. All he can do is moan and shake and become all consumed by the way you're stroking him.

It's so much and not enough at the same time, the way you jerk him off fast just to slow down the instant he starts to get close. It's maddening, and he can't help but buck into your touch, hoping that maybe he can prevent you from depriving him of yet another high.

You notice the way that he can't seem to catch his breath, gulping on air as he silently prays that you'll have mercy on him.

You won't.

"Ready to give in yet?" You ask, not slowing down your movements as you build him up to another high he won't get to release.

He shakes his head rapidly, and his wise crack is cut off by a moan as you give him a couple extra hard pumps for that. When he finally composes himself enough to speak, his voice comes out ragged and broken.

"Go to hell."

You lean close, pulling on his bound wrists so he falls back into your chest a bit. You move your grip down to allow him to grab your hand between his fingers, and he holds onto it for dear life. It's a tender moment between your otherwise devastating actions, and it makes him feel safe, despite being vulnerable to you in the most intimate way possible.

When you speak, it's directly into his ear, ghosting along the shell and making his entire body shiver with the sweet tone of your voice saying something so sinful.

"Baby, you're already in hell."

He groans at your words, and at the way you just keep touching him. He's getting so close, and if would only keep going, maybe he can get there.

"You know," you tell him, starting to slow down as you notice the signs of his high. "This practice room is free the rest of the day, and the door's locked. I could do this forever."

You slow your hand almost completely, giving him hard and deliberate strokes to emphasize your point. He groans, frustration boiling over as he slumps forward. His head rests on the mirror, with his sweaty and too long hair hanging in his eyes. He can't get enough air, gasping and fogging up the mirror with his lust filled exhales. The sight is extremely erotic, and you can't stop the rush of arousal that courses through you.

It makes you want to wreck him even more.

You move your hand away from his wrists, bringing it up to tangle into his hair. You give his hair a tug, pulling his head up to stare right in his own eyes as he gasps from the pain. He cries out as he sees his frame in the reflection, with his disheveled hair and sweaty body and wild eyes and his dick that's so, so hard. His mouth hangs open, letting out loud, broken moans as your hand increases its pace again, building him up to yet another high he won't experience. His sounds echo off the walls of the dance studio, and you lean in so your chin rests on his shoulder.

“You’d better be quiet, Yangyang. Or everyone’s going to know what a naughty, little slut you are.”

He bites his lip hard as he whimpers, trying desperately to muffle his moans as your words send a shiver through him. But he's not able to hold his sounds back for long as he starts to get overwhelmed again.

"Shit, shit, shit," he sobs as he feels the pleasure start to overtake him again. You plant soft kisses onto the back of his shoulder as he shakes under you.

"Is there something you wanna say?" You ask, smirking against his skin as you feel him nod hard above you.

"Yes, yes, yes. Please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

You grin widens, and you give him a little nip on his back that makes his entire body jump. But when you start to slow your hand again, he panics.

"What? Why? I said sorry. Why? Please?"

"What are you sorry for, baby?"

He groans, beyond frustrated as you slow your movements to allow him enough clarity of mind to answer your question. He tries to drop his head and tear his eyes away from his own reflection, but your grip on his hair stops him, only serving to intensify his arousal with the way it causes his scalp to sting.

"Well?" You ask him.

"Uh," he starts. "I'm sorry for being a brat, and I'm sorry for not listening, and I'm sorry for taking $10 from you without asking first, but just please."

He's babbling at this point, and you're not even sure if he's aware of all the words coming out of his mouth. You chuckle, satisfied with his answer as you move to place a kiss on his temple.

"There you go, baby. That wasn't so hard."

You increase the speed of your pumps again, and he lets out a hiss that turns into a high pitched whimper as the pleasure starts to overtake him for what feels like the umpteenth time. You see the way his eyes look around frantically, not sure whether he should look at the way your hand is pumping him or the way you're looking at him with pure lust burning in your eyes or watch the way he's falling apart. The sight just makes everything so much more intense, and he can't fathom how has hasn't exploded yet, and decides that it's solely because you just know his body too, too well. His breathing picks up as moans fall involuntarily from his lips, echoing through the empty walls of the dance studio.

"You can let go now," you tell him, moving your hand from his hair to firmly grip his jaw and loving the way his eyes all but roll into the back of his head at your words. "Go ahead and paint the mirror white with your cum."

He orgasms with a shout, shaking and trembling through his orgasm as the hot white spurts of his release shoot onto the glass and your hand. It feels like it goes on forever for him, wave after wave of earth shattering pleasure after being kept on edge and denied for so long. He collapses into your body when he's finally done, resting his body weight on you as he kisses your neck. You bring your hand down to his tied ones again, allowing him to hold your clean hand in his as he comes back down to Earth.

"You okay?" You ask him, and your heart melts when he flashes you that thousand watt smile of his.

"More than okay," he replies. He's sleepy, but you can hear the tinge of satisfaction in his voice.

You reach forward, swiping your already dirty hand through the mess he made on the mirror. He starts to say something that you're sure is probably smug and will get him into trouble again, but you don't give him the chance, sticking your stained fingers into his pretty mouth.

He's a bit taken aback at the action, but obeys immediately, sucking around your fingers and humming contently to himself.

"By the way, I knew it was you that took that $10. I cannot believe you framed Hendery for it."

He laughs around your fingers, and you laugh too, placing a small kiss onto his nose as you do. When you take your fingers out of his mouth, you wrap your arms around him, gently guiding him to lay down with his arms still bound behind him. He sits up on his elbows, watching you curiously as you reach around to unclip your bra and pull your underwear off your body. You straddle his, but not before collecting more of his release onto your fingers for him to suck off. He groans around your fingers, and looks up at you with lust filled, obedient eyes.

"Now, we have this room for a couple more hours. So now it's your turn to make me feel good."

Tagging @mingishoe @armysantiny @domreaderrecs @chickenkatxu @lucas-wongs @drippinlovetalk @brooklynalpha @wildernessuntothemselves @loviejaehyun @skzctnightnight @capriccio-con-espressione @euphoricsunflowers @nct-writers as requested! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for future fics!

Read all of my fics HERE!

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luvteez · 5 years ago

Text

bassists do it deeper

pairing: yunho x genderneutral!reader genre + tags: smut, band au | kink discovery, exhibitionism, a brief segment of semi-public sex, hand kink, size kink, yunho monster cock bc this deserves a tag, power play, switch dynamics (i think??), dom!yunho pulls through in the end, unprotected sex wc: 6.3k

note: big thanks to my fav babie @lustjoong for motivating me to combine the two ideas i had for the prompt into one and motivating me to finish this!! here’s my take on the unspoken obligatory yunho size kink fic every ateez smut writer should have written once but make him a bassist. also, the band au to this pwp is literally just there as an excuse to make yeosang the lead singer of the band bc if kq won’t give yeosang lines, i will

A lot can happen throughout a single weekend, as your English professor suddenly quitting her job, your brother Yeosang almost burning down the kitchen from deep frying an egg, an influx of voicemails in your inbox all sent from Wooyoung, as well as Yeosang’s punk rock band losing a member. It’s a lot to process when all you’ve done is stay the night at Yuqi’s, even harder so when Wooyoung keeps repeating every five seconds that Seonghwa quit the band. (”Why did it have to be Seonghwa who left Stereowave? He was the hottest one!”)

That being said, you expected to come home to a beyond grumpy Yeosang who was trying to find a replacement asap. A band without a bassist sounds empty, and while Stereowave has garnered a big enough fanbase over the years that wouldn’t mind the band continuing as a trio, it just feels wrong. Besides, branding a group consisting of Yeosang the frontman, San the guitarist, Mingi the drummer, and nobody covering the bassist position a band doesn’t sit right.

You were prepared for the worst; a messy kitchen, Yeosang walking around in clothes he wore for five days straight, possibly the outbreak of World War III depending on how shitty he’s feeling. But instead, you find the kitchen exceptionally clean and Yeosang acting as if nothing ever happened.

“Can you help set up the camera? The guys and I wanna film a new song.”

“Uh, sure,” you answer irritatedly. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about finding a replacement for Seonghwa though?”

“Oh, we already have a new bassist,” he waves off casually, “What are you gaping at? Shut that jaw of yours before flies fly into your nasty mouth.”

“First of all, rude.” Yeosang rolls his eyes at that comment. For a split second, you’re contemplating letting him figure out on his own how to use the camera because he’s the walking embodiment of a technology illiterate, but your curiosity about the new band member is bigger. “But how did you manage to find a new replacement so fast? It’s been like, what, a day since Seonghwa left?”

Yeosang sighs. “He’s been thinking of quitting for weeks now, so I had enough time to look for a new bassist. It’s not that big of a deal anyway.”

And this is exactly why you should never get dicked down by your bandmate several times in a month, you think to yourself. Seonghwa and Yeosang thought they were slick, but everyone figured they were more than friends. Needless to say, it was only a matter of time until the strain of their relationship wreaked havoc within the band.

“So,” you say as you two walk to the makeshift studio in the basement, “Is the new guy good? What’s his name?”

The change of topic makes Yeosang relax visibly. There’s a sheepish smile on his face and he replies, “You’ll see.”

You arch a brow. For some reason, that doesn’t settle comfortably in your gut. Then there’s the fact that Yeosang is slightly skipping, and that makes you more concerned than relieved. Because Yeosang barely skips, only when he’s being petty and is planning on pranking somebody. (Most of the time, it’s San.)

The faint vibrations of drums and guitars ring in your ears before you step a foot into the basement. Mingi is the first to acknowledge your presence, immediately dampening the cymbals before waving at you. That causes the other two guys to stop playing their instruments and turn their heads around. You greet San like you normally do, and when your eyes flit to the new addition, all brightness drops from your face.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Yunho cocks his head to the side almost tauntingly, eyes challenging. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards, though more with the intention of saying hah you thought you’d never see me again. “Hello to you too, honey. Looks like fate brought us together once more, eh?”

You blink multiple times to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. To your dismay, they sure aren’t. It really is Yunho standing right next to an utterly confused San, and the bass in his hands just confirms it furthermore.

“Since when do you play an instrument?” you gawk. There’s no fucking way he could’ve had time to pick up music, not when his schedule was already jammed with basketball training and student council activities. Then again, that was his schedule in middle school.

“Since I was fifteen,” he drawls, unaffected by your outburst. “Any other questions, honey? Preferably something along the lines of how have you been? I expected a warmer welcome from you, not gonna lie.”

“What does Yeosang even see in you?” you splutter instead, disgust prevalent in your voice.

“Talent. Believe it or not.”

“Guys, no fighting,” Yeosang warns, but you’re too busy sending Yunho daggers and every pg rated curse under the sun your brain can wrack up.

Meanwhile, San shifts his weight on one leg awkwardly and asks in the background as your verbal dispute continues, “Are they exes or something?”

“Nah, just childhood enemies,” Mingi mumbles, clearly used to your interactions to the point where he’s becoming bored of it. He’s heard all the profanities too many times coming out from the same mouth, hence why he isn’t as disturbed as San is.

“Listen up, you piec—“

“(y/n), the camera. Help your older brother out, will ya?” Yeosang cuts you off urgently, the warning tone in his words hard to miss.

“Yeah, help your brother out, shorty,” Yunho snickers. Appalled by his blatant shamelessness, you scowl.

“I’m not that short—!”

“Still shorter than I am, shorty. Or do you prefer honey?”

World War III would’ve broken out right then and there if it weren’t for Yeosang’s death glare — you know, the look he has etched on his face whenever he means business and is willing to go so far and expose all of the nasty mishaps you’ve done in middle school, which is definitely something that should never see the light of day.

“I prefer neither,” you mutter after weighing the gravity of Yeosang’s wrath, avoiding any eyes before you set up the camera. Luckily, nobody further comments on that and eventually, everybody resumes practicing their parts of the songs.

Just in time as Mingi takes another short break to chug his water down, you stumble across a problem. “Uh, Yeosang? You should buy a new camera. This is still usable, but you might have to reset every ten minutes or so.”

A groan leaves him, followed by a shrill guitar riff, and you can see that he’d prefer death over spending money for a new one. “Can’t you just stay here during practice and reset it? You also get to hear some new tracks of the upcoming EP!” That fucker, he’s just too lazy to run forward and press a button every few minutes.

“I have to be on standby for the Block B ticket sale,” you lie. Technically, it’s not really a lie because you do plan on going to the Block B concert with Wooyoung, but 1) the ticket sale isn’t even today and 2) it’s always Wooyoung who buys the tickets. Yeosang doesn’t need to know that though. Any excuse is better than having to sit through practice and see if Yunho is as good as he claims.

Seems like Yeosang desperately doesn’t want to keep running back and forth to reset the camera as he suddenly says, “You can do it here too.” You would argue that the garage has its separate WiFi and only the band members have access to it, but then: “You can use my laptop instead.”

And letting you use his laptop is something he never does. You failed to submit an assignment in time because your own laptop broke down and he didn’t let you borrow his computer for even that.

“Fine,” you sigh in defeat. Yeosang thanks you with a smile so obnoxiously sweet it makes you gag. When all he gets in return from you is the middle finger, his demeanor drops and he mutters something inaudible under his breath, pointing to the small table at the side where all their phones and laptops are lying before he goes back to the others.

Once all four of them are in position and ready to play, you press the record button before flipping yourself onto the old patchwork couch Yeosang bought at a garage sale for only thirty quid a few years back. To your surprise, Yeosang’s MacBook is already unlocked, the default wallpaper of mountains and northern lights quite jarring to your eyes.

When given the rare chance to have unlimited access to your sibling’s devices, it’s self-explanatory what to do. You either a) go through all of their accounts and find as much dirt as possible about them that serves as good material for future blackmail purposes or b) sign them up to as many online subscriptions as possible that will make them go crazy. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work on Yeosang because 1) he doesn’t mind online subscriptions, and 2) he never checks his email account, hence why his inbox is filled with over 2000 mails, a third of them most likely unopened. On top of that, his MacBook is strictly meant for work, so if you really wanted to find out his most embarrassing secrets, your only shot is his phone.

That being said, you’re left with option c) which is checking out Block B’s concert merch since that’s the only sensible thing you can do right now. Forget productivity; that isn’t doable when Yeosang’s deep timbre is blaring in your ears along with the instruments. To be honest, you really enjoy Stereowave’s music and that’s on their music, not because your brother is the lead singer. You’ve enjoyed each of their performances and perhaps you’ve been indulging in the privilege of hearing their new songs first.

But now that Yunho’s involved, suddenly the prospect of having a new favorite band sounds tempting. What was Yuqi’s favorite band again? Day6? You should take a closer look at their discography.

As much as you want to mute the sound, from San’s riffs to Mingi’s drum solo, you fail to do so. One moment you’re opening the search browser, and in the next, your eyes are set on the group. They’re practicing like they usually do; fun etched on their faces as they lose themselves in the music. Yeosang is singing as if he was performing in front of a million viewers while San improvises a solo on a whim. Mingi messes up the beat for a split second after failing to catch his stick and somehow, your eyes have zoomed in on Yunho. It doesn’t take you five seconds to realize:

Yunho is good.

While he might not seem as fired up as the other three, he’s visibly relaxed. Just like Seonghwa, he plays smoothly and isn’t overpowered by the others, but he seems to have an easier time gliding his fingers across the fingerboard. The bassline is easy to filter out, not the generic pattern you can find in every second pop song, yet still compliments the other instruments.

He can play, fair game. However, that’s the least of your worries. You’re more attentive to the ratio of his hands to the bass. His hands are larger than Seonghwa’s by far, no doubt. That makes sense given his height, maybe an inch taller than Mingi. But Mingi doesn’t have that big hands. Doesn’t that mean that Yunho’s body is disproportional?

Before you know it, you drag your gaze from his shoes up to his legs and stop at his hands briefly, only to proceed upwards until you see the cocky smirk and amused eyes directed at you. All clogs in your brain come to a stillstand and despite that, that’s when you realize you’ve been 1) enjoying his music, 2) checking him out, and 3) checking him out and caught red-handed.

It feels as if you were living on the sun instead of on Earth as you burn up in embarrassment. Knowing there’s no way you can deflect what you just did, you quickly turn back to the laptop, the Google search bar staring back at you.

You’re about to type in something when the search history pops up, catching your eyes. A gasp leaves you but it goes under the music, everyone too immersed in their own thing to notice the prevalent horror settling on your face.

exhibitionism

getting off in public

best crowded places to have sex and get away with it

You blink, thinking that your sleep deprivation got the worst out of you and that you’ve finally reached the stage where you start hallucinating. Except, you know you’re not hallucinating. After going through the words again and again, you know that you’re really not fucking hallucinating and that your nonexistent sleep cycle isn’t as bad as Yuqi makes it out to be.

When you said you wanted to dig up dirt on your brother, you didn’t mean it in the form of his kinks. Money can’t buy everything, but how you wish it could so you could unsee that shocking discovery.

Since this is Yeosang’s work computer and he’s signed into his Google account, he must make use of the drive to save a copy of his ideas. It probably won’t amount to anything since he’s the walking embodiment of staying unbothered, but writing him a note on his docs about how he’s made your life worse by not clearing his search history is better than staying silent.

You click on the little icon on the top right corner, expecting to see Yeosang’s name right above the email address. But then you see Yunho’s name instead, and suddenly everything makes much more sense.

This was never Yeosang’s laptop to begin with.

To say you’re at a loss of words is an understatement. There’s no way someone could have as little self-awareness and leave their laptop unlocked, let alone Yunho out of all people. Then again, the last thing you expected from him was to play the bass and blend well with the rest of the band as if he’s always been the bassist of Stereowave and not the newly found replacement.

This is absolutely bonkers. But:

You could have fun with it. Maybe it’s for the better that money can’t buy everything.

Besides dozens of articles about semi-public sex and even a blogpost titled Shagging in Broad Daylight for Dummies, his search history of the last 24 hours consists of many forum links discussing the morality of exhibitionism, conspiracy theories, and hand care guides. You wheeze when you see the private playlist he saved on his YouTube account; a collection of videos about filing your nails properly and the best hand cream brands for dry skin.

Yeosang calls in for a break, and everyone’s grateful for it. San lets out a relieved noise as he places his guitar on the stand before catching the water bottle Mingi chucks at him.

“My arms are beat,” Mingi complains.

San sends him an incredulous look and snorts, “All you do is bang! crash! ppang! while my throat is fucked! And so are my legs!”

“Not my fault if you keep doing your high pitched oows! while jumping around like a— like a cricket!”

“A cricket? Are you serious?”

“I’m tired, okay!”

“Then that means we should call it a day and go home and rest, right?”

“Choi San, I think you’re onto something.”

“Absolutely not,” Yeosang deadpans, causing the bickering duo to pout in sync. “We have lots to do especially since Yunho’s now part of the band.” When all he’s met with is an attempt of cute puppy eyes that rather looks like a bad rendition of any horror movie featuring creepy dolls, Yeosang sighs, “I ordered chicken for dinner and yes, it’s on me.”

In an instant, Mingi and San’s faces brighten up and they’re celebrating as if they won a free cruise to the Bahamas. They don’t hesitate to envelop Yeosang in a bear hug, crushing the life out of him. A chuckle escapes you at the sight of your brother wringing for his sanity. Sometimes you wonder how on Earth those three guys are the same three guys who perform in abandoned warehouses, jamming out their punk rock songs while looking all edgy (in a cool way that has at least half of their fans thirsting after them).

Meanwhile, Yunho drops himself on the other end of the couch. Propping his right leg on the coffee table in front, he digs around in his pockets before pulling something out.

“Since when do you file your nails?” You pointedly raise a brow at him. Although your extensive research on his browser history already answered that question, you ask him just for the sake of it.

“Hand care is important, shorty,” Yunho replies, keeping his eyes trained on his fingers as he works the file around a nail. “If Kageyama Tobio files his nails, I can too. But enough with the small talk, what do you want?”

“I didn’t peg you as an exhibitionist.”

His hand stops moving. Yunho looks up at you, irritation written all over his features. “Because I file my nails...? A bold assumption, honey.”

There’s a reason why Yunho has always gotten away with pretty much everything. He’s a good actor who’s able to feign innocence at any time. His posture is relaxed, voice genuinely sounding flabbergasted that not even your shit-eating grin can throw him off guard.

You can’t, but your proof will do the job.

“I never said it’s because of your hand fixation.” You turn the laptop screen his way and once his eyes flicker on it and decipher the words, his face falls. Gone is the faux-confusion; as all color drains from him, his eyes look like they’re about to fall out of their sockets. “Is it really a bold assumption now, honey?”

Yunho inhales sharply when you scoot closer to him and put a firm hand on his left leg, his laptop now closed and long forgotten. Your fingers are placed too high for it to be friendly, skimming lightly on the inside of his thigh. Yeosang and the others are busy minding their own business but the chance of getting caught in the act is still there. The simple realization has adrenaline running a hundred miles an hour in your veins, and with the way Yunho clenches his jaw — a desperate attempt to fight the groan that’s threatening in the back of his throat — you’re not the only one who’s aroused by the setup.

Slowly, your hand inches closer to his growing bulge. Before you can dare yet another experimental squeeze, Yunho’s hand surges forward and holds your wrist in a vice grip.

“Don’t,” he snarls through gritted teeth, but it sounds sadder than it is intimidating when he’s sporting a boner right in front of your eyes.

You cock your head to the side, almost in a mocking demeanor. “You sure? Think about it, it’s a win-win situation. You get to live out your exhibitionist right here in front of your new bandmates, and I get the confirmation that you’re into it. But if you really don’t want to…” you try to retreat your hand but Yunho doesn’t let you budge, hand still enclosed around yours. That won’t do as an answer.

“Which one is it? Say it, Yunho,” you assert, narrowing your eyes. Yunho looks distraught, feverishly biting his lip while he’s internally fighting with himself, but he eventually chokes out a response.

“As long as nobody notices—”

“You either say you want me to touch you or not. I don’t want any roundabout stories.”

“Touch me,” he whispers defeatedly and the grip on your hand disappears completely. “But I swear to God if anyone realizes what you’re doing— hhnh—!” he cuts himself off with a low moan when you cup him over the material of his jeans.

“Yes yes, I get it. I don’t need Yeosang to know about this,” you dismiss. “And oh wow, you’re getting hard fast when I’m just touching you over your pants.”

“Just get to it.”

The snappish attitude causes you to stop dead in your tracks. “You think you’re in the position to tell me what to do? I can be mean too, y’know,” you start nonchalantly, a stark contrast to the way your heart is shaking in your ribcage. The power you suddenly hold is exhilarating. “I could just leave you like this, and then you’d have to try to cover your situation down there while practice goes on. How would the others react if they only knew your dick is hard? Probably won’t take them too long to find out since standing for a long time can be tiring, hm?”

Yunho’s head lolls back in response as he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. His breathing is uneven and the resulting moan that follows suit makes you smirk. You lightly smack the inside of his thigh, causing another wave of arousal to rupture in him. He chokes out a hushed ‘f-fuck’ and at this point, the constriction around his cock must be bordering painful.

“Who would’ve thought that the big bad Jeong Yunho is actually a submissive bitch who’s hungry for attention?” you ask gleefully, delivering another slap before stroking the area. “Who would’ve fucking thought you were a sub?”

“I-I’m not— shit, s-stop that, hngh— a fucking sub.”

“Yeah yeah, say that to yourself.” You rip your gaze away from Yunho’s flushed face to check if the coast is clear before targeting his fisted hands. He stiffens when you pry his hand open and bring three digits to your lips, sticking your tongue out to give kitten licks to his fingertips before pushing them into your mouth. You hum, suck, swirl your tongue around his fingers, giggling when all he does is stare at you wordlessly, unable to form any coherent thoughts. “See? Not even once have you put up a fight.”

That seems to snap him out of his daze. In an instant, his eyes darken and his jaw clenches.

“Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.”

You snicker, seeing through his bluff. “Wow, I’m so scared. What do you wanna do? Leave practice right now? Drag me to my room and pound me into the mattress?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“You could never, sub.”

Whatever strands of self-control were still residing in Yunho have turned to dust by now. One moment he’s towering over you in full height, looking down on your sitting form in bitter distaste, and in the next, he’s dragging you out of the basement, unaffected by the sudden silence and Yeosang, Mingi and San’s confused expressions.

Once you’re in the living room, Yunho wastes no time crowding you against the wall and crashing his lips against yours. The kiss is a messy clash of teeth and tongues, but it leaves you hot and lightheaded and aching for more. Yunho knows no limits and snakes one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, the other hand fisting your hair. He tugs harshly and the sharp sting sends all your nerves into a frenzy.

“Bedroom. Now.” The sudden huskiness in his tone catches you off guard and you wonder when his voice has ever sounded so rough. You moan into the kiss, fisting his shirt as you stumble your way to your bedroom.

Yunho pins you against the door once you’re in your bedroom. His lips are addictive, just like the groans he slips in kisses and his hands roaming your body. He gets rid of your clothes until you’re left in your underwear, then forces a knee between your legs to keep them from closing. Your eyes roll back at the friction, growing needier and hotter when he presses his thigh against you harder.

When you finally pull away, his eyes are hooded and his lips are red and swollen. There’s no trace of inhibitions left in him as he watches you like a predator. With horror, you realize that the tables have turned, and when he easily locks both of your wrists above your head with one hand only, that’s when you know you’re undisputedly powerless against him.

“Who’s the sub now?” he pants, eyes sparkling with glee.

“Still y-you.” The response sounds pathetic to your own ears, but you have too big of an ego to admit it out loud. Yunho doesn’t buy it either if his quirked brow wasn’t telling enough.

“Still in denial, honey? I see. Guess I’ll have to do more then.” His free hand reaches down to tug on the waistband of your underwear, only to let it snap against your skin. The slight sting is enough to render your knees into mush and set fog into your vision. He does it again, and then he actually tugs the fabric down and you finally grab his motives.

“You’re bluffing— y-you wouldn’t put y-your fingers,” you ramble, hyperaware about how dangerously close his fingers are. Just when you think he’s about to shove a digit in, he pulls away completely.

“You know, you keep talking about my hands. It’s always my hands this, my hands that,” Yunho says casually, giving his nails a quick glance before meeting your eyes. “Rather than me having a hand fixation, it’s you who has a thing for hands. My hands specifically.”

You don’t like how every word is true. You don’t want to acknowledge that he’s correct. Verbally, because your body is moving on its own and has betrayed you long ago.

Yunho taps on your bottom lip and you comply reluctantly, letting him shove the same three fingers you sucked before. Mumbling unintelligible words under his breath, he watches intently as you hum around him, eyes fluttering shut when he slowly moves them in and out of your mouth. A whine escapes you when he pulls them out for good, soaked wet with your spit.

“Tell me.” Yunho grins, “Tell me what you like about them. Or else I’ll leave you hanging.” He’s not lying and you know it. The look he sends you is enough proof that he wouldn’t hesitate to leave you high and dry.

You don’t like how he’s stringing you on like a rag doll. You don’t like how he’s stripping you off your dignity step by step. Strangely enough, you feel yourself leaking and wanting nothing but his pretty long fingers inside of you.

“I like how they, agh I— I l-like how—” you stutter, losing all levels of rationality when he suddenly circles around your entrance. Yunho urges you to continue and it takes up all of your brainpower to pick up where you left off, “—they’re so long and big and pretty—”

“So you have a size kink.”

You stare at him in disbelief. Now that, that’s something he shouldn’t have deduced. “W-wha— I don’t!”

“Seems to me that you have one though. You kept stressing how big and bad and tall I was after all.” You stiffen. Did you? Did you really? You don’t recall saying it that many times but it's hard to think straight when Yunho still has your wrists above your head and is looking down at you in a downright patronizing way. It leaves you trembling pitifully, feeling called out and feeling so, so small.

He really wants you to hit your lowest peak because he doesn’t stop there. “Who’s the real sub here? Is it really me? Or is it you who likes feeling so short, small, tiny.” His smirk widens when your breath hitches ever so slightly. “I fucking knew it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you bark back, but to no avail. Your credibility has diminished the moment he caught up to your kinks.

“Say whatever you want but that won’t change the fact that you’re tiny baby,” he pauses, takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he’s giving you a thorough once-over and then enunciates the next syllables with such clarity that forces time to stop, “My tiny, helpless baby.”

The pet name breaks you. It’s the final trigger that takes all your inhibitions away and the pathetic size of an ego that was left in your stubborn head.

“Please,” your voice cracks but that’s the least of your worries. You can’t move, can’t talk back, and won’t get anything in return. Yunho is right in front of you, finding satisfaction in your internal destruction and yet, after all of the things he’s slaughtered you to, he won’t give you anything in return.

“Just a little bit more, baby. I’ll give you what you want if you repeat after me; I’m your—”

“I’m your tiny, helpless baby who desperately wants you to fuck me.” Yunho is mildly taken aback that you were still able to think and get it right before he even finished his sentence. “Now get on to it, Yunho. Please.”

You’re sniffling at this point, begging for any kind of stimulation that shoots you to the stars. You’re fucking sniffling, and that’s all it takes for Yunho to manhandle you on the bed. A gasp escapes you, not expecting this turn of events at all. It all happens in a flash and the next thing you know, you’re on all fours, face buried in the pillow.

“Yunho, I t-thought y-you’d fuck me,” you complain, glancing behind to see what’s taking him so long. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“Patience, baby,” he says as he’s unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. You rub your legs together to ease the tension, but you can’t really say you’re not enjoying the show. Yunho’s lean, slightly defined, and once he’s only left in his underwear, you swallow heavily. There’s a large, dark patch on the fabric and the bulge seems more prominent than before.

If your mouth was only watering, you’re drooling by now. Yunho takes off his boxers, revealing his painfully hard cock, tip red and oozing precum. Just like the rest of him, he’s abnormally huge.

You have two thoughts. One: Fuck, you want him. Now. Two:

“That’s never going to fit inside of me.”

“Oh it will,” he says with such confidence it gives you shivers. “I’ll pound you into the mattress and you’ll take it all.”

He grabs you by your thighs to pull you closer to him before positioning himself right behind you. “W-wait!” you cry, heart suddenly feeling heavy in your chest, “D-don’t just put it in without prep— o-oh, hnngh—” your body feels like jelly when Yunho presses two spit-coated fingers past your entrance, stretching you out with finesse.

“I’m not that heartless,” he chuckles amusedly, right at the same time he curls his digits right against your sweet spot, sending you headfirst into bliss. “You’re so small you wouldn’t be able to take an inch without prep.”

You only whine into the pillow, arching your back as he continues his ministrations. Once Yunho deems you stretched out enough, he retreats his fingers and replaces them immediately with his cock.

The difference is like night and day. It’s like his fingers didn’t amount to anything compared to this. The high-pitched cry that escapes you is loud as you grasp onto the pillow for dear life.

“How can you be so big?” you pant. There’s no way he’s past four inches deep inside of you. You’re far from being filled, but your walls are already clenching hard around him.

“Bassists do it deeper for a reason.” The innuendo is tacky but in your current headspace, it sounds like the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. Yunho stills his hips, letting you get used to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Guh—” he chuckles at your inability to form coherent words, let alone thoughts. “So big.”

“You’ll get used to it, honey.” He leans forward to pet your hair. “Tell me when I can move,” he adds gently, and you swear you could melt right then.

It takes you a moment to get your breathing steady, and then he pushes more of his length inside. Whimpering, you writhe beneath him, feeling as if you’re being torn apart. Meanwhile, he’s breathing hard through his nose, trying his damn hardest to go as slow as possible. At a certain point, Yunho stops pressing for more and pulls out ever so slightly before rocking his hips back forward. It starts out slowly, but he gradually picks up the pace and you lose yourself into him.

“Faster,” you moan, bending your back for an even deeper angle. “Hnngh, so full. Want m-more.”

“You were right, you can’t take me to the hilt.” Yunho readjusts his grip on his hips and you know that bruises are going to last until the end of the week. “God, you’re so fucking small that you can’t take me to the fucking hilt.”

Your vision turns foggy once the meaning gets through you. Now that he’s saying it, how much of his cock is inside of you? Half of it? A third? He’s stretching you out so well, filling you up so impossibly deep and that wasn’t even his everything?

“That’s not— want more of you, all of you,” you stammer, not realizing what you’re even saying. “Baby wants all of you.” God, you’re so drunk and desperate for his cock that you can’t refer yourself in the first person anymore.

Yunho reacts just as perplexed, eyes widening. His hips still once more, and though you’d want to shout at him to keep on moving, you don’t find the energy to move your head, or even lift a finger.

“So fucking greedy,” he growls, pulling out of you completely. Not even a second later, he flips you around on your back so that you’re facing him dead in the eye, and then he pushes back in. The new position has you gurgling on broken words as your arms flail around for dear life.

Yunho throws a leg over his shoulder, creating a deeper angle. You don’t know if he’s actually giving you more if he’s managed to force more of him into you. All you register is the messy squelch of liquids and your moans bouncing off the walls. You can’t even see properly, everything a blur and a mix of different colors.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, sensing your demise nearing closer and closer.

“Then cum,” Yunho orders in between groans, then adds in a louder voice, “You hear that baby? Cum and make a mess out of yourself.”

Your orgasm crashes onto you in a big singular wave as you tremble under his frame, walls clenching around him tightly. His name leaves your mouth like a mantra as you continue to convulse. Yunho pulls out moments later, just to spurt white on your abdomen. His face is flushed and beads of sweat are forming on his forehead while he jerks himself dry.

It’s a miracle that Yunho hasn’t toppled on you once he slowly comes down from his high. The fog in your vision clears up gradually, but your limbs are as good as worthless. You won’t be able to move freely for a good day or two.

As you continue to blink at the ceiling, only finding the energy to breathe, Yunho grabs the box of tissues from your nightstand and wipes himself off before doing the same to you. His touch is gentle unlike before, and you’d thank him if your vocal cords were still functioning.

You’re about to drift to sleep until he suddenly leans down and pecks your lips. In an instant, you narrow your eyes at him and ask, “What was that for?”

“You had some cum on your lip. I wanted to taste too.” Yunho smiles cheekily and runs his tongue against his bottom lip, then grimaces. “It tastes... yikes.”

He cleans you up in silence before plopping onto the bed right next to you. No words are exchanged up until you say, “Yeosang is going to kill you.”

“He can’t afford to kill me. He needs me for the band,” he muses.

“He’ll still kill you.”

“I appreciate the concern, honey.”

“Just scram back to practice.”

“Don’t you want to go to the bathroom first?”

“I can do it myself.”

“Oh really?”

“... Yunho, help me on my legs and then scram back to practice.”

Meanwhile, back in the basement, the guys are waiting for their bandmate to come back so they can finally finish practice and then eat chicken.

“You sure (y/n) and Yunho are only childhood enemies? They’ve been going at it like rabbits if he isn’t back here yet!” San exclaims, throwing his arms up for dramatic effect.

Mingi can’t counter that because San has a point, so he whips his head to Yeosang. “Dude, you sure they’re not in a relationship? They have to be at least fuckbuddies! Or fuckrivals? Fuckenemies? Or…”

“I do not know and I do not care,” Yeosang says blankly, looking like he’s about to bang his head against the wall because he sure won’t walk into your room and curse his eyes for the rest of his life. Damnit, all he wants is to practice and get the band together; their next gig is only a few weeks away. “In fact, I want to unsee what I just saw and unhear what you just said.”

#blame 5*os for the creation of the band au idea #ateez smut #yunho smut #jeong yunho smut #ateez hard hours #atz smut #luvsmut #the ending is rushed oopsie but i never know how to end smut scenes ahahaha

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