#thank you for this this is so lovely - and fuck me not me realising i never responded to your text wtf fake friend alert

[harryhighkey]

let you go

hi! - this is lowkey the last part of my frontman x reader series!!

thank you so so so much for all the love on this series I have had the best time writing it!!! I love my version of In-ho fr and I'm glad others did too!!

lowkey the last part because I'm not fully done with these characters yet but this series is done, does that make sense? lmaoo basically end of series but not end of them !!

please let me know what you think!!!!!! happy reading!!

a frontman x reader series - masterlist to series here

Waking up felt like bliss.

The bed you were sleeping on was the comfiest bed you had ever slept on, the sheets around you were so soft against your skin, the pillow your head rested on curved against your neck and skull perfectly.

You sighed at how comfortable you felt, your eyes still closed as you were still in that limbo between being asleep and awake. You couldn't remember the last time you had such a peaceful sleep. All the aches and tightness that had gathered up in your body over the past days had left from your rest in this bed of luxury. Did this mean that the games were over?

The games.

Your eyes sprung open at that thought, suddenly you were snapped wide awake.

Your surroundings were unfamiliar, the room all black and sleek. You sat up in the bed, the sheets falling from your body at the movement. That's when you realised you were out of your Player 183 outfit. The blood stained green and white outfit had been replaced for a clean black shirt that had a baggy fit on you. You pushed the sheets from you further and saw that black sweat pants dressed your bottom half. They also looked baggy but the drawstring had been done up tight to keep them on you.

Just as you were wondering who had dressed you, you then noticed the clothes weren't the only clean thing. You yourself realised how you felt so clean and fresh. The slightest smell of soap still lingering on your skin.

Who bathed me?

The relaxed state you had been in while waking up was quickly changing. Your breath quickened as you started to panic, you had no idea if you were still in danger or not.

In a rush, you jumped up from the bed and went to the door. You were terrified as your hand gripped the handle, you didn't turn it yet, you had no idea what was on the other side. What if another sick game was waiting for you? You pressed your ear against the door, it was silent. You took in a deep breath and attempted to turn the handle.

It was locked.

"Fuck." You said out loud. You tried again, but it would not budge, you were trapped in here. Once you stopped trying to turn it, you heard a noise on the other side, your heart beat faster as you leaned in again. You could hear someone walking right towards the door.

Frantically you turned back around, frightened tears filling your eyes as you looked for somewhere to hide. Your quick scan of the bedroom came up empty. You heard a key going into the door handle, you had to act fast.

The next second, you were scrambling under the bed. As the door opened you clamped your own hand over your mouth, not wanting to make a sound.

You watched black boots take a few steps into the room and shut the door once they were in. The boots walked around the bed, you kept your eyes trained on them, the only other thing you could see of this person was the ankles of the black suit pants they wore.

"You can come out now." He spoke, that same authoritative voice you had come to know so well the past few days.

Young-il?

"Come on, pretty girl. Weren't you so much more comfortable on top of the bed?"

It was definitely him, but you had no idea what was going on. Why was he dressed differently too? Why were you both in this room? How had you made it out of the fight? You were trying desperately to piece together your last memories of the fight between the players and the guards, but you were pulled back to reality by the man kneeling on the ground. You watched with wide eyes as he leant down and finally, you could see his face.

You were relieved it was him, but he looked different like this. Dressed in all black, his hair pushed back. He was the one who had been comforting you when you felt exactly like this these past few days, but right now he half looked like a stranger.

You hadn't said a word but he was gathering all he needed to know from your body language. He saw how scared you were, cowering in on yourself under his bed. Slowly, he held out his hand to you. "Let me help you out from under there." His voice came out harder than he meant it to. While you had been sleeping, he had to go back to being the Frontman, and he had to do to gain control back from the players. It had been intense. You frowned at his tone, and he knew he had to bring back the man you knew him as, the man he wanted to be for you. So he tried again, softer this time. "It's me, baby, you don't have to be scared."

Your eyes shifted from his and to his hand, remembering all the times you had held it, all the times that same hand had helped you, comforted you, guided you, lifted you, caressed you, touched you. Cautiously, you placed yours into his, your fear easing a little at the familiar feeling of his hand engulfing yours, grateful that still felt the same.

He aided in pulling you out from the under the bed, sitting you down on the side of the bed where he sat beside you, his hand never letting go of yours.

The silence between you both was deafening, you had a thousand questions going through your head, you weren't sure where to even start.

"You're safe now, you're out of the games. For good." He told you, one of your unspoken questions answered.

In-ho had become a master at reading body language, you were being guarded right now but he was concentrating on any micro expressions you might offer up. You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto a few strands of his slicked back hair that had fallen forward from when he had knelt down just then. Those strands of hair made him seem more like the man you had come to care for. He noticed you looking, he squeezed your hand in his, wanting to prompt you to talk.

"You look different." Was all you could manage to say, you slipped your hand out of his and as much as he wanted to grab it again, he let you have your space. You scooted back up to the headboard, leaning your back against it and gathering your legs to your chest as a makeshift guard.

He needed you to come back to him, to open up, to let him in again, so he tried to keep things light-hearted. "So do you." He gestured to the clothes on your body with a smile. You looked down at yourself in the black clothes that didn't belong to you.

"Who's clothes are these?"

"Mine."

"Who dressed me?"

"Me."

"Who bathed me?"

"Me." He answered your questions honestly. You snapped your gaze to his, eye contact locked with one another. Your face was screwing up, you felt exposed. Subconsciously, you wrapped your arms around yourself and pulled your legs in tighter. He could see you thinking the worst, he couldn't have you thinking of him like that. "I didn't do anything else other than wash you. I thought you would rest much better feeling fresh and clean. I would never touch or do anything like that to you without your consent." His words were serious.

He wasn't wrong, you had enjoyed a very deep sleep. That lead you to another thought. "When did I even fall asleep? I don't remember getting here." You were thinking out loud. You remember saying bye to Dae-ho. The bullets flying. Running with Player 001. Him kissing you. Him drugging you.

In-ho kept his face still as you suddenly froze. You were piecing it together, you were remembering. You were trying your hardest not to react now that it was coming back, but he was a master in unspoken human language.

"(Y/N), anything I did was to take care of you-"

"Stop." You cut him off, lifting one of your hands and holding it in front of his face. You looked back to him, a frown etched into your face. You focused on his eyes, they were still the same. You still trusted them. Slowly, you lowered your hand. "What was in the needle?"

"Just a bit of general sedative, it was only meant to knock you out for a couple of hours."

"How long was I out?"

"11 hours."

"What?! Why was it so long? Did you give me more?!" You were instantly angered, he had to diffuse this.

"No, no. You must have been exhausted from the games, you were deep asleep. I kept checking on you to make sure you were okay. I didn't try to wake you, I figured you needed the rest."

"I've been here the whole time? In this bed?"

"Yes. Except for when I bathed you, I did that then put you to bed."

"I was completely knocked for that?"

"Yes." He continued to answer you honestly, if your constant questions was going to keep you here with him, he was glad about that, so he would continue to answer.

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Bathe me."

"I-"

"No." You cut him off again. "Show me. I need to know how you did it. Show me here what you did."

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air was so thick between you both that you were almost panting. You knew there was other things you should be asking him, he knew it too.

He shifted first, removing his heavy boots, discarding them on the floor and then moving across the bed until he was sitting beside you. His back leaning against the headboard with his legs outstretched. You kept your eyes trained on him, as he did with you.

"I was like this, but, if you want me to show you..." he looked down at the empty space in between his legs and then back to you. "I had you in front of me."

Your eyes trailed down his position on the large bed. Against your better judgement, you crawled to the spot in front of him. Once you were sat between his legs, you leant back against him. His solid chest felt familiar against your back, like you were back in your tiny bunk. He wrapped his arms around you, despite everything, his touch still comforted you so you relaxed against him.

"We were like this?"

"Yes."

Silence fell between you both as you tried to picture it. You found yourself wishing you had been conscious for it, to experience being so intimately close to him. Was that wrong? You weren't sure he was the man you thought he was anymore.

You needed to distract yourself from those thoughts. "Where are we?"

"My bedroom."

You looked around the room again, searching for clues that told you more about him, desperate to find something that showed you he was still the man you had grown close to. There was nothing super defining, the room was so minimally decorated.

Who was he?

You wouldn't find out unless you asked. But you were terrified of an answer you already knew.

"Young-il-"

He cut you off. "In-ho."

"What?"

"My name is not Young-il. It's In-ho. Hwang In-ho."

Suddenly his hold wasn't comforting, you tensed up, tears blurred your vision, you hadn't even known this man's real name. What if it all had been fake? You tried to get up but he tightened his hold around you.

"Let me go!"

"No."

"Yes!" You thrashed against him, but your strength was no match for his. At one point you had freed one of your arms but all you'd managed to grab was a pillow that just as much hit your own head as well as his when you swung it back to get him with it. Before you could grab anything else, he pinned your arm back under his in the hold he had around you. You tried arching your back but he would twist his arms further around you. restricting the space you had to move.

You tried to wiggle, squirm, kick, turn and flail out of his grip, but it was no use.

You collapsed back against him with a sigh, your chest rising and falling with quick breaths.

"Are you done?" He spoke with a clenched jaw.

"No." Stubbornly, you began tossing and turning again. In-ho's patience was wearing thin, his fingertips started to dig into your sides. However when you stopped and flinched, yelping out an "ow!" he relaxed his fingers, remembering how you had been hurt during Mingle and it was right where he was pressing into you. He saw the bruises that were painting your skin when he had you in the bath, how could he hurt you knowing they were there?

You'd found it unintentionally, his weakness. Your chance to escape was so close. "You're hurting me!" You cried out, his heart ached at the thought, he had sworn to do the opposite of hurting you, he was meant to keep you safe, unharmed.

The second you felt his hold loosen, you broke free. You didn't spare a moment before you leapt up from the bed

"(Y/N)!" In-ho reached out for you but you were already opening the door and making a run for it.

You ran through a black hallway until you were in a much larger room. You didn't stop moving as you looked for a doorway, knowing In-ho was only steps behind you. Upon spotting it, you sprinted.

"(Y/N), stop!"

"No!" You yelled back, your hands landing on the door handle but when you went to twist it, it didn't move. "No." This time your no was defeated. You were faced with another locked door. You were trapped.

You hadn't left the games at all, this was just another one, a different kind. A game where your heart was playing against your head. Your heart wanted to run right back to the man who had trapped you in this room, if he didn't care about you, you would be dead by now. But your head said to find a way out, he had lied to you, you couldn't trust him.

You turned back to In-ho, he had stopped chasing you - knowing you couldn't get out - instead he had taken a seat on the luxurious couch in the centre of the room. His eyes locked onto yours as he took a sip of the dark liquid in the glass in his hand.

You broke the eye contact first, distracted by an object that was resting on the table beside the couch. Your breath hitched in your throat as you walked closer, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you lifted it.

It was a mask, all black, you could see a distorted looking face made out of geometric shapes within it.

"Do you like it?" In-ho dared to ask, seeing you hold it in one hand while your other traced the lines along it.

You looked back to him then. "Let me out, In-ho." You said his name with distaste.

He shouldn't have but he smiled, he liked hearing you finally say his name even if it was said with spite.

Your temper was reaching it's boiling point and acting on an impulse, you brought the mask up and threw it right at his face with all of your strength. His reflexes were quick though, he brought his hands up in front of his face to block the impact. The mask smashed the glass that was still in his hand. Pieces of it went flying, one of which was right to his face, leaving a cut to his cheek.

As he lowered his hands from his face, it was his temper that had reached a boiling point now. You stepped back as he stood up, you were terrified of what he would do. He noticed and it annoyed him more.

"Stupid girl," he started with an insult, "you should know by now that I won't hurt you." His voice was laced with anger. "The taking of your life would have been an easy one. Instead, I chose to keep you alive, which proved to be a much harder task." He brought his hand up to his own face to apply pressure to the cut, blood beginning to pool and threatening to spill down his skin. "It seems I can't have the same trust in you, though." In-ho was a master manipulator, he wanted his words to make you feel guilty.

It worked.

Before you could say anything, he picked up his mask and took quick steps to the door, using a key to unlock it.

"Wait!" You yelled as he opened it and stepped out, you tried to hurry over to it before it was closed, but you weren't quick enough. The door was locked again.

-----

You didn't know how much time had passed since In-ho had left. You just knew it had been a long time and you had gone through a range of emotions.

First it was anger, you pounded on the door, screaming at the top of your lungs, throwing things around. Next came claustrophobia, sure the area of this apartment was large but you were locked in here. That lead to the hyper alertness, familiarising yourself with every inch of this space. You'd found certain things that told you more about him, - In-ho - you'd said his name out loud again and again, getting used to saying it in place of Young-il. Fear filled you when the door opened and guards walked in, but they didn't say a word as they brought in food and drinks on a bar cart for you then quickly exited. Seeing the guards confirmed you were still somewhere close to where the games were taking place, that lead to you feeling concerned for the people you'd grown closer to in there. Were they still alive? Were the games still taking place?

The games. The all too familiar panic surged through you as the haunting memories you had experienced filled your mind, all of the terror, the sounds of gun shots, the hundreds of dead bodies, the blood, death, death, death.

You lost the ability to take in a complete breath, each time you attempted to do so it would only make your airflow more uneven. You tried putting your own hand against your chest, the same way Player 001 had done when he calmed you down from feeling this way. Your trembling hand didn't have the same magic touch.

What you didn't know is that In-ho had been keeping an eye on you from the cameras hidden so up high you didn't spot them. He was busy keeping an eye on the contestants now that he had officially resumed his role as Frontman, but he was never so busy that he couldn't watch over you, as well.

He'd observed you going through each emotion over the past several hours. This was the worst one for him to see because of the guilt that consumed him. In-ho as the Frontman kept these games going, the games that had done this to you. His own trauma from his own experience of being a contestant had turned him into the Frontman, he couldn't let yours turn you evil, he had to keep you good. You were his last shred of hope.

-----

You hid yourself away in the bed, you cacooned yourself in the luxury sheets and blankets, you weren't even that cold, you just wanted to shield yourself with something. Much like a young child who was experiencing a loud storm for the first time. Tears spilled down your cheeks, whimpers sounded out, your body shivered, you weren't sure how you ever going to get used to dealing with the terror you had experienced.

You were facing the doorway when In-ho walked in. Scared eyes meeting concerned ones. You knew it was wrong but you were so relieved to see him. He knew that was wrong too.

For tonight, you both would ignore that fact. "Please hold me." You cried out and it was his turn to feel relief. All he wanted to do was hold you and comfort you, but he needed you to let him in first.

Once he joined you in the bed, his arms came around you to pull you against him and you tangled your legs with his.

"Deep breaths, remember?" In-ho told you, moving his hand to your chest and holding his open hand against it to soothe you. You listened and with your eyes locked on his, you tried to take a full one in, the air got hitched in your throat more than a few times. "Again." In-ho commanded, nodding with each breath you took until they finally evened out.

Laying there with your heads on the same pillow, this felt like the man you had known, but he was different now.

"Was Young-il real?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

In-ho didn't know how to answer. It was an act to begin with, but his feelings for you were the most true thing he had felt in a long time. "Yes and no." You frowned slightly and averted your gaze from his and he felt you make the slightest shift away from him. "Everything between us was real."

You sighed and then silence fell between you both. You were still having that internal battle in your mind of if you could accept all of him now. What you didn't know is that In-ho had been having his own internal battle and he'd made the decision for you.

"I'm going to let you go, let you leave." He announced. Witnessing you still experiencing the affects of the games even though you were out and safe, he knew you needed to not be around any reminders of it at all if you were to properly heal. Him included. He knew the risk of this, that you could go out and report what had happened, but that had happened before, barely anyone got taken seriously. He was willing to take that risk for the sake of your mental wellbeing.

"What?"

"In the morning, you'll leave. I'll arrange it for you, you'll get home safely. Your debts have already been taken care of. You'll be completely free of anything that happened here, I promise you."

You were in shock, some sort of relief washed over you, but you were indifferent to it. You were hearing what he wasn't saying.

"I won't see you again?"

"No."

You couldn't deny the pain in your heart at the thought of that.

"Leave with me?"

"I wish I could, but it's not that simple for me, baby."

The glimmer of tears appeared in both your eyes as you looked at one another, your bottom lip wobbled and In-ho's gaze shifted to it. There was something he had to do just one last time.

When he leant in to kiss to you, you clung to him. Your heart swelled at the feeling of his lips on yours. The taste of salt snuck in as a few tears fell between the kiss, you weren't sure if they were yours or In-ho's.

In-ho pulled back first, but he quickly left another chaste peck to your lips. "I have to go." He said simply, he was breaking his own heart and he knew the longer this goodbye was drawn out the worse of an affect it would have on him.

"No-" You reached out for him as he started to get up from the bed, you managed to grab one of his hands.

He turned to look at you with a sad smile, bringing your hand up to kiss it, too. "Stay in here tonight, have a good sleep, you're safe in here. A guard will knock on the door in the morning, you answer when you're ready, they'll wait for you. And then you'll be taken home."

He went to turn away but you tugged on his hand. "In-ho," how bittersweet you were finally calling him by his real name so sweetly, but he wouldn't hear it again after tonight. "Can you rub my head until I fall asleep?"

He knew he should have said no, just like he should have the first night when you asked him the same thing, then none of this would have happened. But he was greedy when it came to you, how could he deny his pretty girl this last request?

"Yes."

[w0rmss]

Hi! Would you write a smut oneshot of Bruce Wayne just playing with reader’s clit for his own amusement? I feel like he would 100% trace his name with his tongue ahhh

He would he so so would and thank you for the request

Tw: orgasm denial oral(f) slight sub/dom use off baby girl and nicknames like that afab reader

Enjoy

Bruce had been between your thighs for hours. His hands keeping your legs open to the point your hips hurt. A puddle had formed under you from how wet you were between your arousal and his saliva. "Bruce." You whine trying to push his head away. He laughed which only made the sensation worse. "What baby girl to much... you can take it." The billionaire goes right back to his meal faster than before.

Your back arches when his tongue finds your clit. "Fuck fuck fuck." You squeak let's pushing against his hands to close. Then you realise, the mother fucker his writing his name with his tongue. Not just burce but his full fucking name. Bruce Thomas Wayne. "Bruce please." You whine grinding your face against his nose. He just hums around your clit, the vibrations sending pleasure through you. You're so close to the point you start seeing stars. Then he stops.

You shoot up and glare at him. "Bruce!" The man just smirks and kisses your inner thigh. "What pretty baby... what do you want. Tell me." He continues to litter your thigh in kisses occasionally kissing your puffy overstimulated bud. "I I... mmmm." You flop back on the bed and grumble. "I wanna cum." "What was that pretty girl?" Bruce gives your clit a hard suck causing you to gasp. "What do you want gorgeous." He asks again sterner this time, and your slightly embarrassed to admit, it's hot. "I wanna cum... please." That's all Bruce wanted.

The man dove head first into your core lapping up all the juices and sucking your clit like it was his job. Your legs clamped around his head and your hands pulled at his dark hair to bring him closer. Soon your orgasms crashed over you amd Bruce's expert lounge helped you ride out ever last wave. "Oh fuck." You whine your breath coming out in gasps as bruce licks up every last drop like a dehydrated man. "Happy baby." He kisses up your body to your lips so you can taste yourself off his tongue. "Very." You hum into his lips. "Good cause I'm not done with you." He grinds his hard cock into your overstimulated pussy and you know it's gonna be a long night.

Hope you guys enjoyed. I love Bruce so much it's not funny.

Anyways keep requesting please I'll get to them eventually thank you so much

[shineon3]

hello! I'm sorry your day was stressful :( hope you feel better soon ❤️

I'm currently on a bunk bed (lower one, if your interested lol) so maybe something with that?

Hii!! Thank you for the ask, lovely ❤️ This is a bit short but i hope you'll like it anyways :3 (this can be read as either gen or implied maxiel btw, whatever boats your float ^^)

A bunk bed.

A fucking bunk bed.

Not only was Daniel forced to once again spend his summer in this fucking camp of all places, he now had to share a fucking bunk bed and a fucking cabin with the fucking new kid.

He sighs. Closes his eyes. Runs a hand over his face. Pinches the bridge of his nose. Opens his eyes again.

It's not a dream.

The cabin door opens, flooding it with warm sunlight, and the new kid walks in. He's a bit smaller than Daniel, pale skinned, his pretty blue eyes widening at the sight of the room. 

“Is that a bunk bed?” 

New kid has a cute little lisp, Daniel notes absent-mindedly. It's not until he pointedly clears his throat that Daniel realises the kid asked a question. 

“Uh, yeah, reckon so, mate.” 

The kid blinks before shrugging, apparently unbothered.

“I'll take the top bunk, then, if that's okay with you- uhm, they said your name was Daniel, right?” 

Danyul.

“Yeppers. What's your name then, kiddo?” 

The kid pauses, halfway through opening one of his bags. His whole face is flushed deliciously pink, the blush spreading down to his neck. Daniel refuses to wonder how far down it can go.

“I am Max. And I am, of course, not a kid.” 

“You sure, kiddo?” Daniel chuckles, patting him on the back before sitting down on the lower bed. Max glares at him. “You look like you're barely out of grade school.” 

It's not true, of course it isn't, Daniel is just saying that to rile Max up, but Max does look young, all soft and plush in a way Daniel isn't, and-

Oops. Not going there, nope. 

“I am, of course, eighteen, Daniel. It is maybe you who is too old to be here.” 

“Touché,” Daniel grins, hand on his heart in mock pain. “You got me there, Maxy.” 

It has the merit to pull a giggle out of Max, and Daniel doesn't question why the nickname rolled so easily off of his tongue.

Maybe this won’t be too bad.

[benevolenterrancy]

Swords pining for each other's cultivator is my new favorite type of pining. Love your NieYao content! <3

I don't suppose we could get Baxia or Hensheng throwing a tantrum while Jin Guangyao / Nie Mingjue are away, leaving their owners to deal with the embarrassing aftermath?

Also, do you have any recs you'd recommend with these two?

this is the exact moment Nie Huaisang realised he was going to have to start meddling in his big brother's love life (con't: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

Hensheng, on the other hand, doesn't throw tantrums but WILL sulk...

[bacchuschucklefuck]

this has been a roller coaster of a design journey but finally I can present you: class swap artificer!adaine and rogue!fabian

[nutria--oscura]

EDINBURGH LIKE SHOW: UNMATCHEDDDD

Forgot to take pictures with the cast but anywaysss

GOT THE COMIC BOOK (by @cerealforkart)AND FRAMED PICTURE (thank you @louthecoder) SIGNEDDD

[sillygoofyqueer]

THIS IS GOING ON MY MAIN BECAUSE I JUST HAVE TO LET EVERYONE KNOW THAT THIS FANFICTION BROKE ME. I'M CURRENTLY VIBRATING. UNABLE TO THINK OR PROCESS ANYTHING. I HAVE SO MUCH ENERGY AND NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. LORD ALMIGHTY. @vinelark, YOU HAVE SINGLE HANDEDLY GRIPPED ME INTO THIS PLOT AND I'M THIS CLOSE TO SOBBING AND THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR WRITING IT AND I HATE YOU SO MUCH AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I WOULD WHIP OUT A RING FOR YOU AND I'D LEAVE YOU AT THE ALTER AND AND AND

[ratatatastic]

"Someone said it, I forget who said it but, like, 'you dream your entire life on being on a team that freakin' good.' Right? It was meant to be—it was destiny. That save Bob made not even fucking looking? Like I bought the t-shirt! 'The Bobbery!' It's—" "Fuck, yeah!" "Bob—What's he like?" "That's the kind-of shit that you realise is just destiny...in my opinion..." "Does he talk?" "Does he smile?" "Bob? Yeah! Bob's awesome! Yeah, yeah—again, one of those perfect people."

The Cam & Strick Podcast | 7.30.24 (x)

even ekky isnt immune to good merch hats off to breakingt thats ekkys most prised possession now XD

[biillys]

hi au where billy and max are child stars

neil auditioning billy for a (soon-to-be) beloved family sitcom as a baby, very mary-kate and ashley vibes, maybe billy getting the role for being the only baby not to cry during the auditions, and then putting him to work from basically day dot.

his mom doing her best to run interference and make sure he gets treated right, only letting him be on set for a few hours a week and making sure either herself or neil is always with him, but the older he grows and the more screen time he gets, the more the show runners and neil try and weasel their way for more time with him.

him turning five and the show airing it's fourth season, his parents marriage being over. his mom handing neil the divorce papers and walking out, then dipping her hand into his earnings (that neil has tied up in his own name) to try and buy them a future, trying to get full custody.

the divorce being messy and drawn out and public, neil having made her out to be the villain, the fans and magazines tearing her to shreds and writing headlines trying to shame her, saying she's a heartless bitch for trying to end her own child's career just as it's starting to take off.

billy getting caught in the middle, the separation and custody battle drawing out for years, him struggling to handle the fall out of his home life coming apart at the same time as the sitcom he grew up on comes to an end.

his life being a fucking mess by the time he turns eight.

having a little bit of free time then, technically being jobless. starting to explore other hobbies and interests now that he has some time and getting more into music and sports, begging for a guitar and a surfboard for his birthday, asking neil if he can join little league.

neil promising him one better, and instead, getting him auditions for disney, telling him the only thing better than playing the guitar, is playing the guitar for disney.

turning ten and being a series regular on an already airing disney show, but the execs and directors being so impressed by him that there's talks of him getting his own show.

part of him being excited, proud, but a bigger part of him being terrified.

being so scared to tell his mom cos he knows she'll cry. she used to run her fingers through his hair to lull him to sleep, hug him close and whisper about how she never wanted this life for him, how she's so sorry.

it becoming official and him getting his own show on disney.

him getting the news exactly one week after his mom walks out for good, his dad having finally won full custody, no visitation allowed.

him feeling sick to his stomach. he never thought she'd actually leave.

he never even got to tell her his news.

it not taking long for the shine of having his own show to wear off, the few things he was excited about starting to become a hassle.

starting to resent it.

hating it.

hating the lights and the cameras and the scripts and the running lines. the early mornings and the make up and the flights and the night shoots and the interviews and the press. hating the way he's always surrounded by adults, never having had an actual friend his own age in his entire life. that all the other kids he knows are pitted to him like rivals, there being always talk about ratings and viewers and timeslots. him not knowing what a friend without it being tied up in publicity and pr.

hating the fact that he has a sister on the show, but his dad and her mom end up getting close, and suddenly he's getting a step-sister in real life.

hating the way max only has to film for x amount of hours a day because she's a kid, but he has to film for longer, and thats on top of everything else he's gotta do, very miley cyrus sharing her schedule during her hannah montana years vibes.

him becoming a household name in his younger years from the sitcom, but disney cementing his fame, him being known by what feels like the entire world by the time he's in his teens.

growing up and getting into shit, experimenting with drugs and alcohol and sex, trying to find any and every escape he can. him and max always being on the outs in private, but being the picture perfect family in public.

neil being a controlling fucker, a true momager, has kris jenner on speed dial.

rebelling in every way he can, not giving a fuck what stories or pictures of him get leaked anymore, the press and public turning against him as he gets older.

his show ending and him expecting to finally feel free, except just becos the shows over, doesn't mean anything else is. suddenly the pressure starts feeling heavier, everyone asking him what he's got lined up next, if he's gonna straighten himself out, if he's gonna finally take his career seriously.

neil riding him, telling him to forget about whatever he wants to do, and do what he tells him to do instead. him having various commitments and auditions lined up for billy already, and billy being ready to end it all.

emancipating himself at age seventeen, cutting off contact with everyone.

going off the rails and living his worst life. catching the headlines and updates of maxine mayfield: now managed by neil hargrove, and shoving down the urge to call her and tell her to run, knows she won't listen to a thing he says any way. he was nothing but an asshole and a spoilt brat no good fuck up in her eyes anyway, neil making sure they never got close.

doing his best to go down the music route, feeling physically ill at the thought of acting again, but thinking maybe music could be the answer. he always liked it better. felt more comfortable with a guitar in his hands or a piano under his fingers than cameras and lights in his face.

the music industry being just as harsh and ruthless as the entertainment industry, him not getting taken seriously by anyone he needs to be taken seriously by, everyones expectations of him being so fucking high that he knows he'll never be able to meet them.

deciding he doesn't give a fuck about anything anymore, his life's never been his own to control or have any say over anyway. signing a five year contract with a well-known label, not writing a single song of his own or playing a single instrument aside from when they want him to trot out an acoustic set, and instead singing words richer people than him wrote and performing show after show after show, flying from country to country to country, barely fucking existing. the songs becoming chart toppers, like they were written to be, and selling out stadiums.

hitting rock bottom.

getting a wake up call from max of all people, her ringing to check he's still alive. him pulling the phone away to check this is an actual call and not a hallucination. putting the phone back up to his ear, asking why she's calling.

her saying happy birthday and billy realising he's turning twenty today.

them sitting in silence for a while before max finally cracks.

her telling him his dad's an asshole. billy laughing. no shit.

them hanging up, but max calling again, a month later, then again, a few weeks after that.

billy being hungover as fuck and having no idea what country he's in, but max is in a new movie, out in cinemas now, and it's a serious drama, it's fucking emmy nominated, so he calls the front desk of whatever hotel he's staying at and asks for directions to the closest cinema and before he knows it, he's going incognito, hoodie on, and watching her on the big screen, and she's so much better at acting than he ever was.

neil must be so goddamn pleased with himself.

too bad max sounds completely miserable everytime they talk on the phone.

he calls her instead of her calling him for the first time, opening the conversation with saw your movie, how much fucking overtime did you get for all those night-shoots?

before or after your dad took his cut?

billy laughs. he can't remember the last time he laughed.

ANYWAY. i was listening to robot by miley cyrus on repeat and!!!! child stars au!!!! them both being worked to the bone!!! hating each other becos they barely know each other cos they barely know themselves!!!! getting through their childhoods battered and bruised, billy coming out the other side first, max finally catching up to him a few years later. them both, one by one, cutting their parents out!!!! max taking the big screen by storm when she grows up, neil frothing at the mouth that he can't touch her money when she cuts him out!!!! billy never signing another contract again after his record deal ends, disappearing off the face off the earth!!!! slight the lucky one by tswift vibes!!!! idk!!!!!

[mirmoria]

NO LISTEN Unlike Style, this isnt the first time HE'S felt like he wanted to meet his lover one last time.

Like you need to understand, this is what he's been telling himself.

[forcedhesitation]

Man.

there's just something about the love between a woman whose impending death is inevitable and a man who's an immortal undead...

[skyland2703]

…ok so I got inspired <3

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Thesis in the tags

[benevolenterrancy]

hi! I recently came across your tgcf fics, and I wanted to say you’re a phenomenal creator. the recovery series fic and the gloves fic and just all of them. thank you for your content and great attention to detail.

do you have any thoughts/hcs on FXMQ and Xie Lian you’d be willing to share? within the original story or the universes of your fics!

Thank you so much, I'm glad you're enjoying them! (ﾉ*^▽^*)ﾉ.｡:*☆

hmm, random thoughts about the FXMQ... a silly headcanon: Feng Xin has very much been hoisted by his own petard by heckling Mu Qing! That is to say, he'll harass Mu Qing relentlessly about something stupid only to be confronted with a similar situation and realise that there's absolutely NO way he can act in anyway similar to Mu Qing or he'll never hear the end of it.

(For example, he has tolerated some truly atrocious divine statues in the past because he's heckled Mu Qing so much about how picky he is with his divine statues that there's no WAY he can say ANYTHING without seeing that smug bastard's face in his head so he just has to bite his tongue and tolerate some unspeakably ugly statues.)

Mu Qing doesn't generally suffer from similar overthinking (he'll just prepare to kick FX's ass if he dares to say anything about it) except for things more directly related to himself. I think he genuinely finds sewing/embroidery/etc rather relaxing work but he'd rather die than have anyone ever see him do it because he's made such a big deal about not doing that sort of "servant" work anymore.

(He actually really enjoyed stitching Ruoye back together because it gave him the perfect excuse -- he's returning a favour!! and Xie Lian is hopeless!! of course he had to!! -- and he secretly considered using white thread to embroider some invisible little designs just because he doesn't quite want to stop... only he knew he'd get caught if he messed with Xie Lian's spiritual device like that and gave up the idea)

[ayyponine]

maybe i am gods favourite little bitch after all..

[wizardyke]

me when i realise im literally way fucking cooler and a better person nd more loved than any fucking man on the planet let alone all the abusers rapists shitty ass friends ive had over the years AMEN

[ehlnofay]

I've been having fun dipping into martin's perspective lately... it's helping me flesh out my interpretation of him and he never fails to be suffering tremendously in a way that is excellent to write