#they’re so distinctly different and i think how/if he’d wanna be comforted and by who would be soooo diff depending on the situation

[qprpbj]

hc that when ponys night terrors get rly rly bad darry is the only one who can calm him down not soda

even worse that darry would comfort him after them but as he got older and they got more severe he’d start getting more and more disoriented and violent during/afterwards btw. gets to a point where comforting him really only makes it worse. <333

[luveline]

could you write bombshell!reader getting a tattoo of spencer’s name or something that reminds her of him and his reaction please?

“Why are you kissing me?” you mumble, your voice hoarse with sleep. 

They’re light kisses. “I’m going now,” Spencer says, matching your quiet tone. 

“No.” 

You wrap your arm behind his neck and feel his hair against your wrist. His nose and lips warm your jaw. 

“Yes.” He kisses your jaw. “I have to go, but I didn’t wanna leave without a kiss.” 

That’s really sweet, he’s so sweet, you’re so tired. “Please don’t go, Spencer.” 

“I have to go.” He readjusts your hugging to hum against your temple, distinctly content despite your pleading. “I’ll be back by six for dinner, promise.” 

“Promise,” you say.

You get to keep him for a few minutes, regardless. His neck must sing bent as he is over you but he doesn’t relent, doesn’t move until you encourage his face back to kiss just under his bottom lip. “Sorry, I’m making you late,” you whisper. 

“No, no, I accounted for this. You’re on my agenda.” 

“How much time did you allot?” you ask through a smile. 

“Seventeen minutes. That’s how long we usually hug in the morning.” 

“Gotta get that time down,” you say. 

“Or up.” He holds your face. You turn your head into his touch and keep him for just another half a minute. 

“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes flutter closed again, “you can leave, I’m gonna go back to sleep.” 

“Good idea.” He kisses you, and he says goodbye. You’re sleeping again before he’s even left your room

When you wake properly, you still feel loved, like a sunburn but with less stinging. There’s something very special about your boy; something permanent about the way he loves. You can’t imagine he’ll ever stop loving you like this, he’s embedded you so deeply into his life and his routines (and you’d beg him to keep you if he ever changed his mind). That in itself is crazy. You can’t have imagined begging a guy to let you stay, but for Spencer, you would.  

When he comes home that night, half an hour before six, you have no regrets. 

You hadn’t noticed how he was dressed when he left, but he looks lovely in just a simple t-shirt and jeans. Remarkably casual for him, you used to think he only wore t-shirts to bed, but the older he gets the better propensity he has for comfort. What makes it for you is the cardigan. 

“You look nice,” you praise, more than satisfied when the first thing he does after he takes off his shoes is lean down to hug you where you’re sitting on his couch. 

“Thank you.” He pats your back and pulls away. “You’re beautiful,” he says with ease, like he’s commenting on the weather. “Good day?” 

Your lips pucker into a twist. 

“What?” he asks. 

Unfortunately, he sounds deeply worried. 

“No, it’s nothing, I just hurt my arm. Can you have a look?” 

Spencer takes your arm. “What did you do?” he asks, pulling the sleeve of your shirt carefully up to your elbow. The Saran wrap confuses him, until it doesn’t, and he grins at your skin, before frowning again. His flickering emotions worry you, until he says, “Is that mine?” 

You hold your arm in the light. “Of course it’s yours?” 

It’s just a few words from a note he wrote you, perhaps too soon into your relationship for sweetness, and yet one you kept anyways. He told you the story of the I Love You lighthouse, or rather, the Minot Ledge lighthouse, and how the man who lived there had to live on a different island to his family while tending the lighthouse, so he would flash the light once, then four times, and then three times, one flash for every letter of each corresponding word: I love you. The note was left on your dresser. You’d slept together the night before, but he had to leave early. Nowadays he wakes you up, but  back then he’d been too shy. 

I want to be able to do that for you but I can’t find a lighthouse in D.C. that will let me in to try. I’ll keep looking. 

“I’ll keep looking,” Spencer reads. His thumb heistates just under your small font.

“It’s from that note you left me.”

“I know, I remember.” He does his awful frowny face where his eyelids lower and you're sure he’ll never smile again, he looks that upset. “You know this is permanent?”

“They do tend to be,” you say with a lovelorn sigh. 

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should kiss you, or hug you, or… I don’t know why you’d do this.”

“But it’s okay?” you ask. It could make for a very awkward conversation if he doesn't like it.

“It’s perfect.” He holds your gaze. “You’re perfect.”

He acts like your tattoo is a gaping wound as he moves in to hug you, careful of your new ink, but relentless in the tightness of his arms behind your back. You laugh, then squeal at his insistence, a giggly girly thing that nobody else should ever hear but him. He doesn’t make fun of you, just squeezes you to him, his face pressed so hard to yours you can feel his cheekbones. 

“Now I just have to say something romantic for you to get tattooed and we’ll be equal again.’

“So we aren’t equal?”

“Um, no way.” Your laugh is self-satisfied and breathless. You turn your lips to his cheek. “I love you. I’m gonna build you a lighthouse.”

“Can’t believe you kept that note.”

“I have a whole shoebox of them. I love that you write them.”

He stops holding himself up, half on the couch and half in your lap as he hugs you with every bit of strength in his arms.

[d3pressed-caffiene-addict]

Aight fuck it, listing out a bunch of Creek headcanons rn because I can.

These are generally about them as teenagers because I just find it easier to write for them at that age but some can also be applied to their canon age.

I just wrote out my long ass hc about them playing soccer together in high school and how that happens, TLDR is that Tweek is great at it and Craig kinda sucks but is just there for a good time and to support his bf, but you can find the full thing here.

Craig’s first job is delivering orders from Tweek Bros Coffee on his bike. Tweek’s parents are determined to be supportive and also just like Craig a lot so they want to help him out, but unfortunately he doesn’t have the patience for customer service to work in the store with Tweek, so he takes up the delivery job.

Common hc I know but I love the idea of Tweek being covered in freckles.

Craig is clueless at first when it comes to serious anxiety and is super lost the first time he sees Tweek have a full panic attack. He ends up going looking for information on grounding exercises because he wants to know how to help and seeking out proper techniques is the way that makes most sense to him.

I honestly headcanon both of them as autistic, Tweek because of my own personal projection and Craig because it just makes sense. They’re both affected in pretty different ways though so sometimes they have trouble communicating their perspective and understanding of things. Tweek has difficultly regulating his emotions, and he gets overwhelmed very easily. Craig definitely isn’t emotionless (we see his anger get the best of him pretty often) but he’s driven much more by logic than Tweek is. It takes some time but they learn to meet in the middle and communicate in a way that works for both of them.

Craig has one of those galaxy ceiling projectors in his room that Tweek bought him as a gift once, and it becomes extremely comforting for him. Sometimes they’ll lay back and look up at it so that Craig can point out the different stars and planets to Tweek and ramble about them.

Photographer Craig. That’s all that needs to be said about that one.

Artist Tweek too. I think he’d mainly paint abstract at first because his hands are still pretty shaky, but eventually he’d feel more confident branching out. The coffee shop has a bunch of his art on the walls, as much as he’s embarrassed about it.

Craig used to dislike the smell of coffee but after they start dating he quickly grows to love it.

He also quickly gets used to the feeling of leaning on/cuddling with someone who’s almost always shaking, stimming or ticcing, to the point where the constant feeling of movement is a sort of comfort because it’s so distinctly Tweek. Even when they’re really young and just holding hands he gets used to the feeling of Tweek’s shaky hands.

Okay but Tricia always telling Craig how much cooler his boyfriend is than him.

Craig finally convincing Tweek to let him brush through his tangled hair, and Tweek complaining the whole time because that shit isn’t fun to deal with.

Craig will tell Tweek off for drinking too much coffee and then down three Monsters.

Tweek definitely ruins Craig’s sleep schedule because he doesn’t wanna hang up and go to bed if he knows Tweek is gonna be up anyway.

Craig squeezes Tweek’s hand of reassurance if he seems nervous or overwhelmed in public.

This is extremely random but all the guys in middle school health getting paired up and made to do that thing where they take care of an egg for a few days and them being the only ones who successfully keep it unscathed (even Butters and Kenny lost it because Kenny got hit by a bus or something right before they were meant to return it, either that or Cartman took it and threw it at the wall).

Idk bro I just fucking love Creek, expect a lot of Creek content as long as I’m fixated on South Park.

[retelling-of-ragnarok]

Hi 😌 Me again— Can I also 👉👈 request 🎨 with Ryuuto and Gwen—? 😩

Send "🎨" for a mood board of our muses

🔷 HELLO AVAAAAA. you have no idea how long i was looking for a reason to go “hey i found another song to associate with these two” SO THIS FINALLY GAVE ME A REASON >:D 🔷

@fruit-of-infidelity

➸ Are they enemies? Are they friends? WHO KNOWS. They’re definitely tense, and have the biggest game of push and pull going on. I feel like there are definitely moments of… Slight comfortability? There are definitely calm moments, versus moments where they’re unsure of just what purpose the other serves.

➸ Lol, ANGST. These both are so similar, yet so DIFFERENT. They clash in a way that will likely bring out a lot of sad, tense, perhaps angry moments for the both of them. Especially with they’re distinctly different relationships with the same man.

➸ Sadly, Gwen’s initial thoughts of Ryuuto were likely “if I befriend him, his Father will ease up on me.” So truthfully they were using him to make their own life a little more peaceful. However as they spent more time with him, they found themselves subconsciously enjoying his company. Whilst also they find him seeming more and more dangerous. But that just be because they find Cordelia dangerous, and he is her child. So there’s just this air of “I need to exercise caution.”

➸ There’s a fear of them dragging Ryuuto down with them, into danger. So there is the inner turmoil of “do i prioritise usefulness or his safety.” Ryuuto is just. Definitely making them questioning the laws they’ve laid out for themselves. Quite literally driving them insane.

➸ I would like to think that there’s plenty of room/chances to see each other’s vulnerability. The moment the other goes quiet, or reserved, I feel as though the other would act accordingly. Unless they want to be NOSY. Gwen in particular, will definitely have moments of just: being silent, but they would like to still have his company at least.

➸ I feel like the more Ryuuto learns about Gwen, the more unsettled he feels. Like why are they there. What are they? Who are they? What do they want with him? Just a vibe of uncertainty. Especially given the fact that they’ve also planted relationships with his half brothers/cousins. If he ever found that out, I can’t even imagine how he’d react.

➸ SO I DONT MAKE THEM TOO SAD!

➸ They have their moments. Moments that make you think “hey maybe they’re not completely hopeless.”

➸ Late night joyrides, to go knows where. Painting together, which sometimes results in a mess. Painting each other, and having teasing, tense, but kind of goofy banter. Or even just, a comfortable silence as Ryuuto tries to read; with Gwen finding some way into his lap or over his shoulder to take a peak at his book.

➸ A little extra bullet but Gwen is lowkey SPOILED. Mf will see Ryuuto reading, and make HIM into their pillow/seat. Then have the nerve to go “Read to me pls.” Does he indulge them? Who knows. But if he does, he’ll find them strangely relaxed. Maybe even sleepy, as they lean more against him.

➸ They’re both hurting at the same time, so I believe they’ll be able to heal at the same time as well. “Come be lonely with me” sorta beat. It’s slow, and painful; but both of them are, even if it’s subconsciously, grateful. Hurting alongside someone else is a lot better than suffocating alone, even if the both of them take a minute to actually speak.

➸ I like picturing more intimate/closer moments of testing the waters. Learning to actually trust one another. Besides, with both of them despising physical touch for various reasons, I think the idea of them ‘learning to feel again’ is pretty sweet.

➸ I wanted a Gwen specific build off to the previous bullet; but Ryuuto just. Checks off Every. Single. Bullet on their ‘danger checklist.’ So them finally realising that “i can’t live life being cautious like this.” And there’s definitely a moment for them where they finally rediscover what happiness is, whilst thinking about him. It doesn’t even have to be in a romantic way; but they had fun with him. Real, genuine, fun. Perhaps even a bit childish. So that really boggles their brain.

➸ IM GONNA RAMBLE ON FOREVER IF I KEEP GOING. Anyway i love them. I want them to be happy. I couldn’t tell you WHAT sort of relationship they have but I love it. I want them to heal. I want them to duel. I want them to BE.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 9

As promised, two chapters in one day! HBD to this trash rabbit. I just get thirstier with age.

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. DRUG USE IN THIS CHAPTER. Just generally an uncomfortable vibe, thread carefully.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Ooh, boy. This is a whole mess. Angst. [insert drugs owl meme]. Steve doesn't pass the vibe check yet again, stupid old man. Bruce + Tony be like: I CAN'T GET NO SLEEP CUZ OF Y'ALL.

My beta, whomst I love more than cake - @miscmarvelwritings . She's so beautiful though. And so smart. Wow.

The strobe lights pulsated to the rhythm of the music, bodies swaying, gyrating to the tune. The club was banging this time of night, people were living it up like there was no tomorrow. For me, in the VIP zone it was quieter, calmer, but no less exciting. The atmosphere here was distinctly different from the one on the main floor.

It was hard to wallow in misery even if it only took me an hour to stop resisting the gratuitous amounts of white powder on the silver platters. "It's better when you're there to watch them, they'll do it anyway but at least you can know that they're getting the good stuff!" My idiot father proudly announced, looking at me snorting a line through a rolled up hundred dollar bill.

Whiskey and vodka wasn't doing it for me. It made me feel low and Dad, being Dad, of course noticed it and immediately called a guy who knew a guy and suddenly all of his friends and their baby-faced companions had white under their noses. Cash flew like autumn leaves.

As I went out to the main dance floor to get a closer look at Billie Eilish in all of her edgy, beautiful self, the drug hit me like an avalanche. No trace of the grogginess or the mortification that had hitched a ride on me from Stark tower. I danced and sang and saw dad smiling at me in approval, his equally high and important friends all wearing identically predatory smirks. They were good at spotting the obvious - beauty, talent, money. I had no qualms about the fact that dad was off bragging about my close relationship with Tony. If my father was feeling particularly bold, he'd be telling them he knew and encouraged it all along, his buddies pretending to believe the white lie in turn.

I had exchanged my pants and sneakers in favour of a skirt and fishnets with high heels combo, a decidedly inappropriate attire for a daughter having a family night with her father but he insisted I dress trendy. I loved my dad, I really did, and I knew he meant well - I'd definitely be out of place amongst these TVscreen worthy people in my jeans and sneakers but...Tony was one of those people, and he had never ever said anything bad about the way I dress. Even when I obviously and purposely put on obscene clothing just to get a rise out of someone.Tony just smiled and played along.

Tony Stark was the heartless asshole here? Really, press? Really, haters?

"Standing there, killing time, can't commit to anything but a crime..." I sang along quietly as I hurried back to the VIP area. My dad was standing up and so were a couple of his buddies. "Where's ya goin'?" I asked, taking a seat.

"Be right back baby girl, if you find better company then go on without us," Dad winked, throwing a totally nasty glance at one of the girls. She was not much older than me but her body was stick thin and bolt-ons and Botox were her two best friends. She gave me a dirty look and I returned it, extending a waiting hand towards my dad. He chuckled, depositing a neatly rolled stack of hundreds into my palm.

"Dad, I want a new purse," I whined, just a tad. Just to see the girl's eyes go wide with acrid envy. Dutifully, another couple of stacks landed in my palm without any objections and the company retreated towards the back door.

I sighed.

Fiddled with the straw of my drink a bit, contemplating my options. I could always ditch this party and go somewhere more active, somewhere with better music and kinder people.

"Ay, baby girl, you wanna party with us?" A tall, handsome man from dad's previous company approached me. "We'll have some fun." He maintained a respectful distance but the intentions were clear.

"Nope," I popped the sound, not even sparing him a glance. A few lines of cocaine stared at me from the table beckoning with a better high, a stronger sense of euphoria, confidence and energy to dance, to sing, to be happy. I picked up one of the discarded banknotes, quickly rolling it by a sheer force of habit and cleaning up the tray. One line.

"Holy shit, is that..."

Two lines.

"The fuck?!" I recognised that voice. I have been hearing it every day in the labs, I've been hearing it in my dreams.

Tony was gaping at me, in front of me.

"Hey, Tony. Fancy seeing you here." Any other time, I'd be cringing at my lame greeting but I was feeling way too good to care about trivial things like being clever or being appropriate.

"I was looking...for you," He slowly said, putting a single finger on the tray with the last line of coke and pulling it out of my reach.

"That's funny," I snorted, hastily wiping at my nose to cover the tracks of my very bad, very immoral, very illegal activities.

"It's not, Princess, it's not funny at all," He frowned. "C'mon, we're leaving." And extended his hand. I decided to follow along - there was nothing for me to do at this club anyway, the music was lame and the people were stuck-up.

"I look like a prostitute, Tony, I'll take the back door," I attempted to pull him towards the aforementioned but he didn't budge, just stared straight ahead and towed me along like he was wearing one of his iron suits under the stylish jeans and tee get-up.

He stopped in front of the exit, giving me a critical once over. Wiped my face, again, brushed my hair back. Gave me his shades - I dutifully put them on, figuring the manic look in my eyes was anything but attractive right now. "Jesus Christ, Princess," He sounded desperate. "You're beautiful, don't you fucking worry."

And we made our exit, arm in arm, me trying not to stumble in my high heels, Tony being my rock, my solid foundation. In other words, I was hanging onto him for dear life trying not to fall over and give a reason for a sneaking paparazzi to make a scandalous headline.

"You're doing great, Princess," Tony helped me into his Tesla, slamming the door behind me and hurrying towards the driver's door. I managed to unclasp and kick off my shoes, curling up comfortably into the passenger's seat.

I watched the man as he started the engine and watched him wrestle with whatever personal demons that tormented him as he peeled off and raced into the Friday night city.

"What in the everlasting fuck..." He started, stopping abruptly mid-sentence. "How did you even get in there?"

"I came with dad. He literally ditched me to fuck some whore, like, twenty minutes before you showed up." I shrugged, eyeing the modified panel of the car. It was very obviously Tony's own design. I wondered if he could introduce me to Elon Musk someday.

"What the fuck? And correct me if I didn't hear you clearly," Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Your father took it upon himself to drag you to a club, get you drunk, gave you cocaine and fucked off with some groupies?"

"Yah, that's about it. My dad is all about cocaine and whores, the more the better," I replied, leaning in to take a closer look at the car's panel. "Hey, could, like, introduce me to Elon Musk someday? That would be fuckin' awesome."

Tony went eerily quiet, I saw his knuckles on the steering wheel go white. Vague expletives were muttered under his breath. "I'm guessing you're good on sleep?" He finally asked through gritted teeth.

"Sleep? Don't know her," I laughed. "I wanna dance, Tony."

"Of course you do, Princess." His smile was tired and forced and full of pity. "You know, I don't think I'll be able to sleep now, either," He admitted, taking a sharp left. "How about we get some McDonald's and camp out in my lab?"

"Sure, whatever," Not like I had much choice in the matter. What I really craved was a good, long, hard fuck (by Tony himself preferably) but if science calls... I have no choice but to comply. "Get me two Big Macs," I demanded least he try to joke and get me a Happy Meal or some shit.

He did get me the food without any usual grumbling. I didn't like this Tony. Tired Tony, sad Tony, angry Tony. Wrong Tony.

"Huh?" He said and I realized I'd said the last part out loud.

"I don't like a sad Tony,” I said. "It's the wrong kind. Sassy, snarky and perpetually caffeinated Tony is the best Tony. The only proper kind, in fact." I stated with seriousness, shoes dangling from one hand and my McDonald's in the other. Man, I have been seeing more and more of this god-damned elevator recently.

"You're high as a kite, darling," He chuckled then, a real laugh.

"Who's high?" Bruce's voice came from the kitchen.

In a state of blind panic, I jumped behind Tony. "Not me."

Tony palmed his face.

Steve came over from the fridge, leaving the rummaging to Bucky. He took one look at me and suddenly I felt small, insignificant like an ant. I didn't like it much. "Holy hell, the fuck happened? Tony, explain." The Captain demanded, giving me the world's biggest stink eye.

"It's her piece of shit of a father, dragged her off to some night club and left her hanging with his buddies, fucking off god knows where. It's not her fault so lay the fuck off, Rogers, with your self-righteousness," Tony exploded all over Steve, the pent up frustration rearing it's ugly head.

I mustered enough courage to tiptoe around the dick measuring contest to sit at the counter. My appetite was gone and my burgers were turning colder and soggier with every passing second. Just like my life.

"Hey, Princess," Bruce's gentle voice halted my train of thought. He approached me carefully, ignoring the men behind me in favour of simply wrapping me up in a quiet, comfortable hug. "You feel alright? Want some water?"

"Nu-uh," I mumbled, unwilling to part ways with the warmth of this embrace.

"... Steve, I found her snorting miles of coke all by herself while an some jackass was waiting for her to be even more out of it. It's rare that I say this but I had literally zero words." Tony punctuated his words by tapping his fist against the wall multiple times.

Bruce tightened his hold on me, a sudden influx of strength accompanied by a quiet, low growl in his throat.

I felt the sudden need to clarify the situation. "Tony, chill. It takes me a lot more to be out of it, I'm fucking coherent and I'm talking sensibly. It's not my first rodeo."

Apparently I'd gone and said the wrong thing because all the men in the room were suddenly growling. I even totally forgot about Bucky who had the uncanny ability to exist in a room without making absolutely any sort of noise.

"The fuck do you even mean by that, Princess?" Tony screeched, probably already knowing that answer.

"From one rich kid to another, you should damn well fuckin' know," I spat, unwilling to admit my misery.

He sighed, audibly deflating behind me. I refused to listen to him, refused to be humiliated and exposed like that for my perfectly human desire to be happy. To not be a disappointment, to not be disappointed in everything and everyone. Bruce was nice and kind and warm and selfless but even he couldn't love me the way I wanted to be loved. Cherished, taken care of. All that mushy stuff. I was selfish, so I snuggled in closer to him, muting the world around me, replacing it with the smell and feel of him.

Cocaine made it a whole lot easier to imagine. Maybe that's why it was so addictive.

"Guys, calm down, you're stressing everyone out," Bruce rumbled quietly. I loved the way his deep voice seemed to reverb throughout his chest.

"Get me a cup of coffee, would you, Buckaroo?" Tony sighed again. I heard the sound of him slurping at his coffee. I heard Bucky's metal arm clunk against something equally metallic before the supersoldiers bid everyone good night and walked off.

Only then I removed my face from Bruce enough to take a good look at Tony. He was eyeing me, too.

"We have a caffeinated Tony," I said, softly. "Now we just need some science to have a happy Tony."

He smiled but it came out watery. He wanted to say something but choked on his words. "C'mere," He finally said, turning in his chair and opening his arms.

I unashamedly made grabby hands, the universal gesture for ‘I want, gimme’, and Bruce delightfully deposited me into Tony's waiting arms. It was like my birthday and Christmas came out all at once. Tony's embrace was warm, like Bruce's, but tinted with an unexpected familiarity. He smelled like motor oil and fancy cologne. It was heavenly.

"You keeping tabs on me, huh? Coffee, science and sass? That's your recipe for happiness?" The engineer asked me, a seriousness that didn't match the joking tone of the conversation at all.

"I think I got you figured out. Peter, too, is important for happiness. But in controlled amounts," I said, giving it a careful thought.

Tony chuckled, sounding a little bit shocked. "What about you?" He said after a brief moment of silence passed, interrupted only by Bruce's tea kettle coming to a slow boil.

"I don't think you need me for happiness," I said, meaning it. "But let's be honest, I'm a nice addition."

He stilled under me, briefly. Bruce cleared his throat.

"Brucie needs me, I think. He's lonely," I told Tony with a sudden influx of desire to be completely honest and 100% transparent. "And it makes me happy, because I need Bruce too. He's the best," I finished.

"Is that so?" Tony sounded vaguely tearful so I attempted to pull back to take a good look at his face. He didn't let me though, gently but firmly pressing my face back into his chest. "And me?"

"I do need you, Tones," I admitted without spilling any unnecessary details.

There was a child within me, small and scared and lonely, like Bruce. I hated her, hated being so soft and needy when everybody else obviously (and understandably) was busy with figuring out their own lives. I wished, desperately so, to just boom-boom-whoosh her away like Doctor Strange magicked away unwanted visitors.

Tony said nothing but his hands betrayed him. They shook and they held onto the skimpy see-through fabric of my top like he was a drowning man and I was his only floatie. For the moment, I closed my eyes and let myself believe he needed me, too.

"I'll catch a wink or two, wake me up if you need something," Bruce broke the silence, having finished off his tea. I didn't notice the time pass so quickly, too lost somewhere between here and there and Tony. In short, I was being lovesick all over the billionaire.

"Bwucie," I leaned backwards, pushing until Tony caved and let me rest my back against the counter, elbows on top of it, legs dangling freely on the sides of his legs. It put a lot of me on display. Tony had called me beautiful earlier so none of my usual habits of being appropriate around the man concerned me. He thought I was pretty!

"Princess," Banner came over to wrap me in a hug that was quite awkward, considering the fact I was sitting on Tony. It took some maneuvering to get it right.

"Night night," I said the usual and got a brief kiss on the cheek before Bruce shuffled off, yawning.

Tony was watching us with an unreadable expression. As soon as I turned my head to look at his face instead, something in him changed. His eyes grew big and round, the crease between his eyebrows disappeared. The corners of his mouth tilted up.

On a sudden impulse, I reached over to run my palm gently over the neatly trimmed line of his beard, following from his chin to his jawline, to his soft tousled hair. His eyelashes shook, fluttered, as the engineer leaned into my touch with the grace of a cat. "Kiss him, kiss him" my brain chanted. I knew I was a coward, I wouldn't do that. "Pretty," I said instead, the word coming out in a whisper.

He gulped, audibly. "Princess, you have no idea..." Shaking his head, as if he was surrounded by a swarm of mosquitoes, Tony briefly looked away. "You have no idea what you're doing."

"Nope," I agreed solemnly. "But at least it feels good. It feels right."

"God," He frowned, one of his hands coming to nervously card through his hair. "Nothing about this is right."

My face fell. Just like I thought, Tony wanted exactly nothing to do with a clueless little teenager. It stung and tears pooled in the corners of my eyes where I stubbornly refused to let them escape and make me into a crybaby. "Whatever you say, Tony." I was ready to agree with anything he said, really, if he would just keet holding me like that.

"Don't," He raised a palm. "Don't close yourself off like that."

Now I was genuinely confused. What exactly did he expect from me? I shrugged.

"You're clever, brilliant and beautiful, you can and should do so much better than all of this," He vaguely gestured towards me, towards himself, towards us and the whole damn city.

I contemplated my answer, briefly. "A lot of people tell me what I should and shouldn't be doing. Don't I get a say?" The bitterness had fought its way out and won. "I just want to be happy for a bit. All the usual bullshit."

He looked taken aback, really. Like he hadn't even considered the option. Typical.

Meanwhile, I continued my word vomit. "I want someone to give a damn about what I want and what makes me happier. Until then, I have no other choice but to take care of myself the best way I know how. Like everybody else does," The weight of his arm landed on my waist, pulling me close to his chest yet again. I didn't resist. No fight left in me. The tiredness seeped deep in my bones, chilly.

The sudden change of altitude startled me. The engineer had picked me up and started walking off towards the elevator, directing it to the lab. His personal lab. The tiles felt cold under my feet where he put me down to make his own beeline for the bar. I would've joined if not the drug in my system - the last thing I wanted was to land in a hospital yet again.

I took the moment to browse my social media, untag myself from all the unflattering pictures, post my usual shitpost. A tiny skirt, equally tiny top and fishnets - I felt out of place in his lab although I've worn more outrageous things previously. I was raw, torn open, bleeding my misery all over the room. That was not in my plan, but then again, when did ever life go as you planned it?

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @as-i-layhereinyourbed @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01

please check your blog settings before tag request or, alternatively, follow the "party favours" tag itself if Tumblr doesn't let me tag you - it does that for some reason. love you all 3000.

[omg-just-peachy]

like you like that

For the anon who asked for meeting at a party + love at first sight!

1.3k, fluff, every cliche in the book but make it stevetony | read on AO3 Tony wakes up with his face smushed into something soft, something distinctly...not a pillow. He yawns and tucks his face into what he quickly learns is the shoulder of the guy—Steve—that he’d brought home from the party last night. This in itself isn’t unusual, not really. Tony doesn’t do it nearly as often these days, but waking up to find someone in his bed with him isn’t a new thing. 

What is new is how comfortable Tony is. How he feels like he’s gotten his first really good, restful night of sleep in far too long. What’s even more surprising is the way Steve wakes up, smiles at him, and tugs him closer, peppering kisses along the sensitive skin at the nape of Tony’s neck, muttering something about buying him breakfast. Breakfast. His one night stands don’t talk about breakfast. They slink out of his room and go back out into the world, to shower, run errands, post on Twitter about their night in bed with Tony Stark. They don’t ask if he likes pancakes or french toast best.

It’s not just surprising. This is weird. 

Right?

French toast, Tony finds himself answering. My mom used to make it with strawberries on top and I guess I still have a taste for it. 

Sounds perfect. I know just the place. With that, Steve kisses him again, just once, sweet as strawberries they haven’t yet had, and pulls him up and into the shower. 

Weirder still, Tony lets himself be led.  

*

Try this. Steve’s holding out his fork, chocolate chip pancakes, heavy on the chocolate, slipping off it as he holds it out to Tony. What choice does he have but to try it, right off the fork Steve offers? And why not? Tony’s breaking just about every rule he’s ever had about this kind of thing, and can’t find it in himself to care. 

After last night, maybe Tony should be done with the surprise. Being with Steve is so easy, it’s like he’s known him for years and years. Maybe this is what people mean, Tony thinks with a a jolt. Maybe sometimes you just know.

Steve had walked them to a little corner cafe, a place Tony’s passed by hundreds of times without taking a second look. He can’t believe it’s been here all along, with french toast almost as good as his mom used to make, and he’d never been inside. 

Mmph… Tony all but moans as Steve pulls the fork away, earning him a wide smile. 

Good, right?

Tony nods. It’s all almost too good. He has to know what’s going on. 

What are we doing here, Steve? Tony asks, not unkindly. 

Another smile. Having breakfast. And then I’m going to ask you for your number, because somehow last night I didn’t have the wherewithal to do so, and I don’t think I’ll forgive myself if I don’t. Then I’m going to walk you back home, and if it’s okay, probably give you a call later tonight. 

Tony sits in stunned silence, his jaw working until Steve’s eyebrows lift just a little. Is that okay?

And Tony finds himself nodding vigorously. No, yeah. I mean, yes, It’s okay. Wanna try this? Tony holds out the fork before he can second guess himself again. Steve’s been different from the very first. Why question it now?

When they’re done, Steve pays, and scrawls his phone number on a napkin, shrugging when Tony reminds him that he could have just put it in Tony’s phone. Yeah, well, now you have it just in case. 

Tony tucks the napkin in his pocket. Just in case. 

He finds he’s more pleased than surprised when Steve reaches down and twines their fingers together while they walk back to Tony’s apartment. Steve holds his hand like it’s nothing, like they’ve done this every morning, always. 

Inexplicable.

*

Twelve Hours Earlier

The night was a blur. 

Tony didn’t understand it then and he can’t claim to understand it now. There’s no scientific explanation for the way he felt. All he knows, even in the sober light of a brand new day, is that he looked up in the middle of a party for a friend of a friend, seeking out Rhodey amid a sea of bodies, and locked eyes with a blond stranger instead. A blur, a sea of strangers, locking eyes across a crowded room… Tony knows how it sounds, but it gets worse. Because he locked eyes with the blond across the room and it was like being struck by lighting. He felt his breath catch in his throat, felt that moment all the way down to his toes. 

Tony can’t go so far as to say he felt the earth shift beneath his feet, but his world was definitely shaken. 

It’s every cliche in the book, and he knows it.

Love at first sight was something that happened in fairytales and, very occasionally, to extremely lucky people who were certainly not him. But it was inexplicable, the way Tony’s feet seemed to be acting of their own volition, steering him across the room and over to the guy who would smile, shy and slow, and tell him his name was Steve. Steve Rogers. 

Tony wouldn’t get to appreciate the true blue of his eyes until the next morning, full of sleep and sunshine and looking at him like they’d woken up like this countless times before. As it was, his heart was hammering in his chest and there was a heat running through him, low and simmering. 

Inexplicable.

“I’m Tony. Stark.” Tony stared at Steve for a long minute then. Maybe he just knew him from somewhere else. He was sure there was a rational explanation. 

“Nice to meet you, Tony,” Steve said, still smiling at him like he knew something Tony didn’t. Steve held onto his hand for just a moment longer than necessary before letting go.

“Do I know you from somewhere? You didn’t work for me once, did you?” Tony tried. 

Steve laughed, low and rumbling; Tony felt it more than heard it. “No,” he said. “I really don’t think so.”

Huh.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would remember that. Did you go to MIT?” There had to be a something. Maybe Tony saw him on the subway or a bus or something. Maybe his face was on a bus. 

“Definitely not.”

“Is your face on a bus?” Tony squinted. 

“Do you always interrogate strangers at parties? You can just ask what I do or something, you know.” A more whole-hearted smile this time. God. 

“Habit? No, just you.” 

Steve just blinked at him. That’s the moment most burned into Tony’s mind. The way Steve just looked at him, so confident and sure when Tony was completely out of his element. 

“Okay, what do you do, since we’ve established you don’t work for me.” 

Steve laughed again. “This and that. A lot of freelance graphic design. Sometimes I deliver pizzas or walk dogs if client work is light and rent’s coming up.”

Of course he walked dogs. Of course he was beautiful and nice and walked dogs.

Steve put a gentle hand on the small of Tony’s back then, asked if he could get him a drink, and it was like Tony’s skin was on fire, the simmering spark from before gaining oxygen and growing.

“Sure, yeah, that’d be good. You’re sure I don’t know you from somewhere?” 

Tony wasn’t ready to give up on there being a reason for this, how he felt like he was both on fire and drowning and enjoying it.

Steve shook his head, let their fingers brush as he led them to the kitchen. “Well, not yet, anyway. I’m hoping that changes, though.”

It was around then that Tony decided that rational thought wasn’t always the most important thing. 

And the rest, as these stories go, is history. 

[lake-arrius-caverns]

Nerevarine Rising

Chapter 7: Awakening

oops im seeing about changing my upload day to friday but yesterday i totally forgot abt it so lmao

summary After a successful assignment, Fahjoth is glad to be given a few days off and learns a little about his duties from Caius. The twins plan a trip to Vivec City for some exploration.

content warnings none

tag list @boulderfall-cave , @padomaicocean (lmk if you’d like to be added!)

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

—————————————————————————————

Flouncing through the front door of Cosades’ tiny house, Fahjoth couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he brandished the scrolls of parchment with glee. 

“I got them!” he cried, ecstatic. “The notes from Sharn gra-Muzgob! I got them!”

Cosades looked up from his supper with one brow raised, but by no means did he look on with disapproval. “And not a scratch on you,” he remarked, holding out a hand to receive the scrolls as Fahjoth passed them over. “I knew it wouldn’t be long before you found your feet. Well done, Novice.” 

“Well, I had help—” Fahjoth started, unwilling to take all the credit for his achievement, but Cosades didn’t seem to be listening anyway. He unfurled the scrolls and silence fell as he pored over them, a thoughtful look on his face as he examined the scrawling, loopy handwriting. Fahjoth took a seat at the table and waited, wondering what his next assignment was to be. At least Ribyna was on standby back at the South Wall Cornerclub, and for that, Fahjoth was grateful. 

“Well, Fahjoth,” Cosades started, rolling up the parchments once again and turning to face Fahjoth with the beginnings of a smile, “I’m promoting you to Blades Apprentice. You deserve it after the hard work you’ve put into all your duties.” 

Fahjoth’s heart began to soar with excitement. “Apprentice?” he repeated, awestruck. “Thank you, sir! So, uhh... what will I be expected to do now?” 

“Nothing too different, I assure you. It’s mostly a recognition thing, to be perfectly honest,” Cosades answered. He got to his feet, beginning to pace around the room in deep thought and occasionally stopping to check a book or scrap of paper, cross referencing several stacks of notes. Fahjoth wondered how he was able to keep track of it all. “Now, I'd like some time to think how this all fits in with the Emperor's plans for you. So if you'd like to get in a little freelance adventuring, go ahead. But whenever you're ready, I'll have new orders for you."

“Oh... alright.” The news came as a welcome surprise for sure. Fahjoth had to admit, he was glad to have a few days of downtime at last. It would be a good opportunity for him and Ribyna to do some exploring; she had mentioned wanting to visit Vivec City at some point, perhaps now they could finally go. 

But there was one thing that he had been growing more and more curious about; the subject of all his errands, the very reason he had been putting his life on the line in exchange for whatever information Cosades wanted. He knew nothing about any of it, and the burning desire to ask, to learn exactly why it was so important, could not be quashed. Maybe now was the time. 

“Sir?” he questioned, biting his lip with uncertainty. Cosades stared fixedly at Fahjoth, indicating that he was listening, and so Fahjoth continued — albeit with some hesitation. “Could you explain the... things that I’ve been getting information about? The, uh, the Sixth House and the Nev... Nevera... Neraver—“

“The Nerevarine,” Cosades finished for him, and Fahjoth nodded. “Of course. I forget that you can’t read well. We’ll start with the Sixth House.” 

Fahjoth shuffled in his seat, getting himself comfortable and listening with rapt attention as Cosades began to speak. “There isn’t much to say about the Sixth House cult just yet. A trusted informant of mine says they're a secret cult associated with some strange events recently. More importantly, my informant thinks these recent disturbances are related in some way to the Nerevarine Prophecies."

“And what are the—?”

“I’m getting to that part, Apprentice. One thing at a time. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but there’s been some attacks recently attributed to sleeper agents of this cult. Have you heard anything about them?”

Fahjoth shook his head. “No sir.” 

“There've been several attacks recently, and these Sleepers all say the same thing. ‘Serve your Lord, Dagoth Ur. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory.’”

A shiver suddenly tore through Fahjoth’s ribs, catching him by surprise. Why did that name sound so familiar? There was no distinct emotional response attached to hearing it, but the hairs on Fahjoth’s arms continued to stand on end, giving him prominent goosebumps. 

“Keep an eye out, and if you see anything suspicious, let me know.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Alright, now for the Nerevarine.” Cosades rejoined Fahjoth at the table and took a swig of something from an open bottle before continuing. “The Ashlanders—“ 

“The what?”

“The Ashlanders— by the divines, Vetharys...”

Fahjoth grimaced, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Sorry...”

“No, it’s alright,” Cosades sighed. “I just thought you would’ve heard about them by now. I don't know much about them. Most people say they‘re murderous savages. But most people are idiots. I know they hate the settled Dunmer almost as much as they hate Westerners. I don't think their tribes tend to be particularly welcoming to outlanders, so watch yourself if you’re ever wandering in the Ashlands.” 

Fahjoth nodded, remaining quiet to let Cosades go on. 

“The Ashlanders pass down their customs and history in the form of poetic verses. Among the things they preserve in verse are the dreams and prophetic visions of their wise women, in particular the verses that foretell the coming of the Nerevarine. And before you ask,” Cosades added, seeing that Fahjoth was about to speak again, “some Dunmer believe that an orphan and outcast, a youth born on a certain day to uncertain parents, will one day unite all the tribes of the Dunmer, drive out the invaders of Morrowind, and reestablish the ancient laws and customs of the Dark Elven nations. They call this orphan and outcast the ‘Nerevarine’, and say they will be a reincarnation of the long-dead Dunmer General and First Councilor, Lord Indoril Nerevar. But... I don't know much else about it. That's why I'm sending you to find out.” 

Fahjoth nodded, fascinated by the sudden bombardment of information he was receiving. “And... it’s relevant to stuff that’s happening now? These cult attacks and whatnot? That’s why we’re investigating it?”

There was a split second where Fahjoth thought that Cosades may have paused, his stern grey eyes locked on Fahjoth’s own, but then came a perfectly normal response, leaving him wondering if he’d simply imagined it. 

“Correct.” 

Armed with this knowledge, Fahjoth suddenly felt inspired. So this was what all his top-secret missions had really been about. He still had no idea why he’d been pulled out of prison to join this endeavour specifically, but he no longer felt as much of a need to question it. This was his chance to make a difference, to do some real good in the world; it strengthened his resolve and he silently vowed to give it his all, regardless of how many errands he would end up having to run. 

“Alright. Thanks, sir.” Fahjoth rose to his feet, figuring he should go and find Ribyna and tell her the news, but Cosades leaned back in his chair and stared at him with such a dour look in his eyes that Fahjoth faltered.

“Don’t forget, Vetharys — always pay attention to what’s going on around you. You’re an agent of the Blades; information is our specialty,” he advised. “And never let your guard down. I don’t ever want to find you being sent back to me in a box.” 

Fahjoth cringed, feeling distinctly like he was being told off for the sheer amount of ignorance he had so openly displayed. Well, he had to learn somehow, didn't he? “Yes, sir… thank you, sir.” 

And with that he bade farewell to Cosades for now, scurrying out of the house before he could be admonished further, and made a beeline straight for the South Wall Cornerclub. Just as he rounded the corner and descended the short flight of stone steps between buildings, he found himself face-to-face with a familiar dark-haired figure, and coincidentally just the person he was looking for. 

“Ribyna!” he called, grinning as he got his sibling’s attention seconds before she stepped into the cornerclub. “Thought I’d find you here.”

“‘Sup, Fahji?” Ribyna turned away from the doorway and gave Fahjoth the usual hug of greeting. “You look happy. Has something happened?”

“I got a promotion!” he exclaimed without hesitation, eager to share the news. “And I got a few days off, too. I was thinking maybe we could do something.”

“Ah, well done, bro!” Ribyna congratulated him with a grin. “Yeah, I’m good for a few days. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I thought maybe we could go to Vivec City? If you still wanted to go there, that is.”

For the second time that night, Fahjoth thought he detected a fleeting look of hesitation on the face of someone he was speaking to. This time it was Ribyna, who appeared almost apprehensive as soon as Fahjoth had mentioned going to Vivec City; but then her response was as casual as ever, leaving Fahjoth even more befuddled and debating with himself over whether he was just seeing things.

Maybe I’m just tired, he mused to himself. 

“Yeah, sounds good. D’you wanna leave now or tomorrow?” Ribyna asked. “If you like, I can go see how much the silt strider bloke charges.”

“Well, it’s getting on a bit, but…” Fahjoth paused, looking upwards and searching for the position of the sun, which was already past its highest point in the sky. He estimated that they had a few hours of daylight left, so ignoring the little voice of caution in his head, he made his decision. 

“Yeah, why not? Let’s go tonight. Could be fun to stay overnight in the big city!” Fahjoth enthused, and Ribyna nodded. 

“Alright! I’ll go find out how much a one way trip costs,” Ribyna said. “Start heading over towards the silt strider and I’ll meet you there!” And with that she tore off, racing over the bridge in the middle of town and zipping up the stairs to speak with the caravaner. 

With a quiet chuckle, Fahjoth shook his head and began to meander at a far more relaxed pace after his twin, passing by one of the townsfolk as he stepped off the bridge. He dipped his head and smiled in casual greeting, but the Dunmer gripped his wrist with such force that Fahjoth gasped in shock. 

He leaned in, his face mere inches from Fahjoth’s own, and Fahjoth could see only too clearly his strangely blank, vacant expression. His eyes, though unfocused, were glaring at Fahjoth with such a scorching intensity that he almost broke out into a sweat, his heart hammering rhythmically in his chest like a trapped sparrow, fast and fearful. 

And then he spoke, his voice gravelly and harsh, the sound of crumbling charcoal over burning ashes. 

“Beneath Red Mountain, Lord Dagoth sleeps. But when he wakes, we all shall rise, and the dust will blow away. Serve your Lord, Dagoth Ur. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory.”

Momentarily frozen, Fahjoth’s senses eventually returned to him and his first instinct was to yank his wrist free of the Dunmer’s grip, panting as if he had just run a marathon. The Dunmer jerked as Fahjoth tore free, and then within seconds, the blank look on his face melted away and he cleared his throat, glancing around as if confused. He then regarded Fahjoth with a perfectly normal, albeit rather sleepy stare. 

“What do you think of our city, outlander?” he asked mildly, but before Fahjoth could even think of a response, a voice calling his name caught his attention. 

“Fahji! C’mon, hurry up!”

His mouth dry, Fahjoth wheeled around and dashed after Ribyna, not stopping until he had caught up with his twin. Ribyna looked irate as she immediately began a short rant. 

“I’m not paying for that bloody silt strider. It’s a ripoff! And if we’re gonna stay in Vivec overnight, gods know how much the rooms are gonna set us back, too. Come on, we’ll walk instead—” She paused and frowned as she finally took in Fahjoth’s appearance, while he tried to calm himself down in the meantime. 

“What the fuck’s the matter with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” With a shake of her head, Ribyna corrected herself, “Actually, you weren’t even this pale when we did see a ghost. Did something happen?”

“A— a Dunmer,” Fahjoth began, his gaze rapidly flicking from left to right, half-expecting an attack to come out of nowhere. “A Dunmer stopped me and... and said a thing...” 

However, as he took in Ribyna’s attentive expression, he realised with a heart-wrenching disappointment that there was no way he would be able to explain any of it to her. Not without going into detail about the missions that Cosades had given him, which he had been strictly forbidden to do. He could lie, omit some elements of the truth, but then what would be the point in that? His voice trailed off into silence, leaving him awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. After a few seconds, Ribyna spoke up again. 

“Did he threaten you?” she asked, very seriously. “D’you want me to find this bastard and have a word?”

“No!” Fahjoth replied hastily. With reluctance, he took a deep breath and tried to swallow his anxieties, his gaze wandering down to his wrist as he rubbed it. There was no visible blemish, but somehow, he felt his wrist burning fiercely where the Dunmer had grabbed him. “It’s fine. It was probably nothing. Let’s just go to Vivec,” he added, “I could do with the walk, I think.”

It was clear from her expression that Ribyna didn’t believe him, but his tone of voice made it very clear that to question him further would only exacerbate the issue, and Ribyna relented. “Alright,” she said eventually. “But if you’ve got a problem, you can talk to me, okay?” 

“Yeah... I know. Thanks, Beebs.” Though he wanted nothing more than to confide in his twin, Fahjoth regretfully held back. He was alive, and that was the main thing; telling Cosades could wait until he got back. In his shaken state, he found it far too overwhelming to think about right now anyway, and so the two departed from Balmora and embarked on the considerable journey southwards to Vivec City.

[babycracker]

⭐️

ahh thank you so much for the ask! since you're my favourite adam writer, i think it only makes sense that i ramble on about something from echoes. and from echoes/jordam's story there's 3 things that stand out to me as something i can extensively talk about, and of those 3 things only 1 of them has been posted so far, so i'm gonna ramble on about that 1 thing: the bite!

directors cut ask

--

He's so close he can hear her heartbeat as though someone's banging a drum right beside his ear, but it's not racing or pounding as he thought it'd be. It's slow and calming and gentle. He absentmindedly licks his lips as he watches her jugular pulsing in time with it for a moment.

When his gaze meets hers again his pupils are blown to the point his eyes are black, and she offers a smile before giving him a short nod. How strange that despite what he's about to do, she is the one who seems to be seeking to reassure him. 

His awareness of Mason, Nate and Felix standing close by fades away and all that's left is Jordan. The sweet smell of her blood, the comforting thump of her heart, and her eyes fixed on him expectantly is all he can focus on as a low and quiet, yet distinctly animalistic growl sounds at the very back of his throat and he grips a handful of her hair, forcing her head further to the side.

Her hand drops from his head and she gasps as he sinks his fangs into her soft flesh. Her arms wrap around him to keep herself upright and her fingernails dig into his back, hard enough that he feels it even through the thick wool of his coat.

His eyes roll back and then closed, one arm winding tightly around her waist to hold her weight and the other still holding her head to the side as he starts sucking, and God, it's even better than he ever thought it would be.

He can barely acknowledge the taste of her in his mouth before he's consumed by the feel of her rushing through his entire body. He'd forgotten what this was like… or perhaps it had never been like this before. She warms him, limb by limb, while simultaneously sending chills up and down his spine until he can't help but to shiver and tighten his grip on her.

He hears her shallow breathing as her hands grasp and claw at his back, but then she takes a deep breath and lets herself go limp in his arms, trusting him to hold her up and letting her head loll back into his hand. She whimpers softly as his teeth dig deeper into her and his hand curls into a fist against her back as he tries to keep from completely losing himself to her.

He's always thought she was… small. Tiny and fragile, but now he feels her strength coursing through him and it renders him in awe of her. She brings to the front of his mind every awful thing from his past, and in an instant she washes away the agony behind each memory. She shines a spotlight on each of his strengths, and eases the shame he feels over his weaknesses.

It's too much, and at the same time now that he's tasted her he never wants to stop. It feels as though she's a part of him now, like she's filtered into every crack of his mind and filled every blank void left behind by things he doesn't want to remember, and he already mourns for the loss of her just at the knowledge that he needs to release her. His head spins, the most confused and out of control and yet complete he's felt in centuries.

In a few short minutes she breaks him, totally and completely until he's vulnerable and raw, nothing but her taking over every one of his senses. And in the same short span of time she puts him back together, carefully rebuilding him into someone that he's not sure he even recognises anymore, and he hears a quiet moan when he finally pulls his mouth off of her. It takes a moment for him to realise that it came from his own mouth.

They're both panting slightly, his face still nestled into the crook of her neck as he holds onto her, finding himself surprisingly unwilling to loosen his grip. She allows him to stay as he is, leaning over her and bending her backwards, his arm pressing her hard against him. He feels her hand move back up to the back of his head, her fingertips slowly running through his hair, and he doesn't even notice when his lips begin moving over her neck again. Softly this time, no teeth, just soft kisses over the two small puncture marks and up towards her jaw.

He relishes the feeling of her shivering and the way her skin prickles with goosebumps under his touch. His lips travel along her jaw, and it isn't until she turns her head and they press against hers that his eyes snap open. He straightens up and holds her away from him, staring at her in shock.

--

this scene was planned in the very beginning stages of echoes, i'm not sure i'd even started writing yet when me and alicia first talked about it? but if i had it was only just. but as soon as i'd decided that i wanted to do it, i wrote that part that i just posted up there and sent it to her and she went nuts for it lol.

it took me so long and so many rewrites of the first chapter once i'd decided on echoes' plot to get adam's voice right, to a place where i was happy to share it, and after all that work to get his character and his intensity right i really didn't wanna blow it on something as important as this bite. so like i said, i wrote it ages ago and i reread it like at least once a week, right up to the week of posting the chapter i ended up including it in just to make sure i was still happy with it. and the version that made it into the story is actually the very first draft! i didn't end up changing any of it after all that time, even though i was so sure when i wrote it that just about all of it would be changed by the time it got posted.

it's a pretty big moment in echoes, it's what really starts to turn things around for adam and jordan and it kind of forces adam to acknowledge his feelings properly coz there's kind of no hiding them from jordan anymore. like i feel like they're still pretty early on in adam-time for him to be down to admit any feelings to her so i feel like it would take something pretty significant like this to make it happen. it also kinda makes jordan see him a little differently so that i could work it in a way that was convincing for her to go from the snarky bitch that she was in the beginning to someone who would be willing to be patient with him and see that he's worth all the angst that he brings.

i've said for ages that i feel like that's a bigger moment for them than their first kiss will be (one of the other 2 things i'd be able to ramble on about lol) and i'm really proud of how it turned out. i think i did pretty well at capturing both his intensity and the intensity of their feelings for each other and how deep their connection was revealed to be.

idk if there's ever gonna be a scene like that in future twc books or anything, but even if there is and it ends up being a completely different experience for the mc and li involved, i think i'm still gonna be happy with how my scene has turned out and how well it fits into my story in general and advances it.

ig that's it off the top of my head but honestly it's been one of my high points so far so if you (or anyone!) has any specific questions about this scene or anything really, send them my way!

[mfingenius]

Hi I love your writing so much, I get so happy when I see you on my timeline♡ You say that you take requests (idk if you wanna write this, its totally okay if you dont) so I was thinking about drarry where Draco lost one of his legs from below the knee after the war & no one really knows so when he and Harry starts dating after the war Draco is really self conscious bc they haven't had sex yet and what if H doesnt find him attractive? So kinda how H finds out maybe? You can make your own twist!

Draco does not talk about the leg.

It’s not that he’s ashamed of it - which is not to say that he never was, because the looks people gave him when they found out were always a cause for shame, and it took him a long, long time to realize that that shame wasn’t his to bear; it was theirs, anyone who looked at him half in pity, as though they could somehow know what it’s like - it just… doesn’t come up, generally.

He doesn’t see how - or why - he should bring it up in conversation. It’s not like everyone goes around telling people what body parts they have or don’t have, and Draco’s body is no one’s business but his own.

It’s already been five years since he lost the lower half of his right leg - when he was seventeen, thanks to a rather nasty curse his aunt Bellatrix threw at him when she found him a spy - and, in that time, he’s told exactly two people: Pansy and Blaise.

That’s it. He hasn’t had anyone else he wanted to tell it to, and, because of magical advances, his prosthetic looks exactly like his leg used to. He can - and has - had sex with people without telling them, when they didn’t matter to him. Originally, this was supposed to only be another one night stand. Of course - as with many things in his life - Harry Potter seemed to take one look at Draco’s general rules and thoughts of life and proceeded to think ‘fuck that’ and completely changed them all.

Which is exactly why Draco has been dating the git for six months now.

“You alright?” Potter frowns lightly down at Draco. They’re sitting on the sofa, watching a movie in Draco’s flat, and Potter’s hand is on his hip, trailing soothing circles on his hipbone.

“Fine,” Draco responds shortly.

Let’s get one thing clear: he doesn’t need Potter. If the - now ex - Gryffindor git suddenly decides to break up with him after he finds out about Draco’s leg - or lack thereof, he thinks sardonically - Draco will deal with it, and he will move on, because it is what he does. He doesn’t want to have to get over Potter though.

Potter presses a kiss to the top of his head, and Draco leans his head against his shoulder.

Draco could not tell him, he knows, but he refuses to hide any part of himself from people he loves. 

And fuck, but he thinks he does love Harry.

“Are you watching the movie at all?” Potter asks, amused.

“No.” Draco admits. He can’t concentrate. He straddles Harry’s lap, and rests his on his shoulders, around his neck. “Want to snog?”

Potter laughs, but leans in and kisses him tenderly.

It’s not long before Draco’s straddling him, and though it’s comfortable - and it is more than comfortable, believe him - and Draco’s more than ready to do more than this - he’d never spent six months in a relationship without having sex - he’s… nervous. Harry - and it’s only Harry when Draco’s admitting he’s in love with him or when they’re touching - evidently notices.

“We don’t have to, love,” He says softly, lips against Draco’s neck. “I won’t pressure you.”

“It’s not that.” Draco moans. “It’s just - it’s-”

Harry’s hand drops from his thigh to his calf, rubbing at the exact spot where prosthetic meets limb.

He archs an eyebrow.

Fuck. 

Magic can make it look like whatever it wants, but the prosthetic is still most distinctly not flesh.

“I-” Draco tumbles off Harry’s lap and sits on the sofa beside him, rubbing at his forehead. “I’m, uh. I lost my leg. Not my entire leg, just - below the knee. While I was spying for the order.”

It had been hell, at the moment, and it had been hell after. Draco had been in so much pain, and even after he’d been rescued, after he was supposed to be alright again, the pain persisted, centered in parts Draco didn’t even have anymore. It had been frustrating, to say the least, but, thankfully, the phantom pain has been getting rarer and rarer in the past five years.

“What happened?” Harry asks quietly.

Draco swallows. He feels like he’s told this story a thousand times, even if he knows that, realistically, he hasn’t. “You know that… that I was found out.” Not found out. Someone had ratted Draco out, someone from the order, but - to the day - Draco doesn’t know who it was. “Aunt Bellatrix wanted - she wanted to know what I told you.”

Draco - even through the pain - had felt the deep, vicious satisfaction of watching her face twist when he’d said ‘everything’.

Harry looks furious for the half a second it takes him to get his expression under control. When he does, he says, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

“There’s nothing more to talk about,” Draco gives half a shrug. “That’s all there is.”

“Do you want to take it off?”

The prosthetic is uncomfortable - even more so because he’s been wearing it too often, lately, because he’s been around Harry - and he itches to take it off, but he doesn’t, yet. He didn’t think Harry had noticed.

“I-” he swallows. He can’t help but feel oddly vulnerable, and he doesn’t know how to continue.

“Fred - you saved him.” Harry says softly. Draco remembers that; he’d been in recovery for six months by the time the Final Battle broke out. He’d had no desire at all to show up, but he did, because he had to. Because his part was not done yet, he knew. It’d turned out that he’d been right. “He lost an arm, though. He - I know it’s uncomfortable for him, wearing it for too long. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Draco hesitates. He’s used to doing this when he’s alone - mostly because he lives alone and he rarely goes to places where he can do this - and though it’s different with Harry here, it’s not uncomfortable.

It’s never uncomfortable.

He takes it off. Harry doesn’t look away from his eyes as he does, and, when Draco leaves it by the leg of the sofa - because he has forgotten he’s not wearing it more than a few times and ended up sprawled on the floor for trying to stand up without it - and waits.

Harry moves closer to him and kisses the top of his head.

“Film?” he offers, pointing to the still-on TV. He grins. “Or more snogging?”

Draco grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him into a kiss.

------------------------------

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NOTE: Alright babes so I read these articles (1 2 3 (there are a lot of personal experiences in that third one so if ure interested that’s the link i would recommend)) to give myself an idea of what it’d be like… however, I know that reading is nothing like the real thing, so I really really hope I didn’t get this wrong and if it is in any way offending/insulting/pathetically uninformed please let me know

[mikauzoran]

LuXY/Lukadrien/Lukadrienette: Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Two

@luxyweek

Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Two: Heroics

Things got weirder.

The party was scheduled to go until three in the morning, so Bob Roth had booked rooms at Le Grand Paris for those in attendance so that they didn’t have to drive themselves home or find taxis or worry about public transportation shutting down for the night.

At two o’clock, Luka dragged himself out of the ballroom and up to the fifth floor to room five-seventeen, swiping his keycard and practically stumbling in.

He’d had too much to drink, and he was already regretting it.

The lights were on, saving Luka the trouble of having to fumble about in the dark to find the switch. He made his way down the short entrance hall with one hand skimming along the wall for support. He passed the bathroom and went out into the main area where he found XY lounging on the far bed in his boxers and a bathrobe.

Luka paused, evaluating the situation, wondering exactly how drunk he was to be having this hallucination. He decided that he was, in fact, not that drunk, so that had to be the real XY in his actual boxers on a bed that did, in reality, exist.

XY smiled and waved. “Hey.”

“I am so sorry I must have the wrong room,” Luka spit out in one breath, not leaving space for punctuation, as he turned on his heel and marched out.

Once safely in the hall, Luka looked down at his keycard. The little paper holder distinctly had the numbers five, one, and seven written on it.

He looked up at the plaque on the door and found that it also read five-seventeen.

Come to think of it, the keycard had worked when he’d scanned it.

Luka gave the door a perfunctory knock and waited a moment in case XY actually wanted to tie his bathrobe closed before Luka entered the room once more, announcing, “Actually, it seems like I don’t have the wrong room. Do you have the wrong room?”

XY had not bothered with modesty and was still posed on the bed, bathrobe hanging open. “Nope. Five-seventeen. I’m where I’m supposed to be. I bet they double booked, thinking that not everyone from the party would use their room. My dad’s thrifty like that.”

Luka pursed his lips. “Oh. Okay. I guess…I’ll go down to the front desk and explain the situation?”

He really didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to drag his carcass down to the lobby, wait for them to assign him a new room, and then trudge his way there. He wanted to collapse onto the soft, comfy bed next to the one which XY was currently occupying and fall asleep.

“Or we could just share,” XY suggested pragmatically. “I mean, there are two beds, and you look wiped, Dude.”

Luka took a very short second to consider this proposition. “If you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine with me,” XY assured. “There’s another bathrobe in the bathroom, if you want to get out of those clothes. Leather pants don’t look like they’d be comfortable to sleep in.”

“Trust me, they’re not,” Luka snorted, turning around and heading for the bathroom off of the entrance hall. “I’ll wash up real quick, and then I’ll be unconscious and out of your hair.”

“Take your time,” XY urged, enjoying the view of Luka’s backside as he trudged off.

Luka came out about ten minutes later in a bathrobe, his clothes folded neatly and tucked under his arm.

“I’ve never seen you without makeup before,” XY noted, intently taking in Luka’s features.

Luka hummed noncommittally, setting his clothes down on the dresser before making his way over to the spare bed.

“You’re still hot,” XY reported matter-of-factly.

Luka paused in the act of turning down the covers.

He hadn’t said it in a flirty or suggestive way. It was more like XY was just making a conversational statement than hitting on Luka, but Luka couldn’t help but think of the way XY had been flirting with him earlier.

Unless Luka had been completely wrong about XY’s motives for waxing poetic about how insanely gorgeous Luka’s eyes were.

“Thanks,” Luka replied politely, deciding that he was too tired to deal with this, so he simply wasn’t going to.

He got into bed and curled up on his side, back to XY and the light affixed to the ceiling in the center of the room.

“So…do you, like…have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?” XY tentatively ventured. “I mean, are you seeing someone?”

Luka couldn’t decide if this was an awkward attempt at getting to know Luka or an awkward attempt at flirting with Luka. He wasn’t really sure which he preferred at two in the morning after three glasses of champagne and two glasses of whiskey. His alcohol tolerance was down, and he was too exhausted to figure the situation out.

“I’m not seeing anyone exclusively,” Luka allowed.

“But…you’re with that Adrien guy?” XY verified, fishing.

“We sometimes have threesomes together.”

It felt freeing to finally say it aloud. For so long it had felt like a dirty secret he had to keep locked inside, unable to acknowledge. Sometimes he woke up in the arms of the two people he loved most in the world…and then he had to go home to his own life while they went back to theirs. It was like a cloud of smoke, slipping between his fingers and disappearing before he could grasp it.

“And…who’s your third?” XY wondered, morbidly curious.

“Adrien’s wife.”

“Oh,” XY whispered, mentally piecing together the puzzle that was Luka. “But…you’re not exclusive? Like, they don’t mind if you sleep with other people?”

Luka snickered bitterly. “I’ll put it this way: they’d be jealous and hurt if I saw other people, but it’s not like they have any right to stop me. They are the ones who’re married. I’m just a fun addition sometimes. I don’t have to be faithful to them. What about you? Seeing anybody?”

Luka didn’t really want to be having this conversation. He wasn’t terribly interested in XY’s love life, but he felt like, if he had to answer these questions, it was only fair that he submitted XY to them as well.

“Nah,” XY sighed. “I’m not seeing anybody…unless my dad really does set up a publicity stunt and make me date that Poppy girl. It’s kind of hard to meet people you’re actually interested in when you’re famous.”

Luka considered this statement. Luka had been famous for the past five years, and, during that time, he had found it difficult to find a romantic partner not interested in him for his fame or money. Luckily, Luka had known plenty of regular people back when he was just a regular person, so, when he wanted to try to date (during the periods when he was actively deluding himself about being able to make a break from his feelings for Adrien and Marinette and have a fulfilling relationship with someone who wasn’t them), he had options.

Xavier-Yves Roth had been famous since his early teens, and, even before that, he’d been his father’s son, exposed to the limelight secondhand. Had XY ever had the chance to meet regular people and experience a normal relationship?

“But…So, you like both guys and girls?” XY prompted.

“Yeah,” Luka answered softly, wondering why he was letting XY in like this.

XY pursed his lips and continued to press, “Do you like either better?”

Luka snorted. “Honestly, Adrien and Marinette are pretty much the only two people in the world to me in that respect, and I love them both equally. Differently, but equally. I don’t really have a male/female preference. You?”

He expected XY to snort and laugh and swear up and down that he was one hundred percent male, so of course he liked women because that was probably the toxic masculinity and homophobic attitude that his father had filled his head with.

He was very, very surprised when XY answered quietly, “I kinda like guys better.”

Luka blinked and sat up in bed to turn to look at XY incredulously. “But…at events, I only ever see you with girls.”

XY shrugged. “Dad thinks it’s better for my image if I date girls. That way, girl fans will think about what it’s like to be with me while guy fans think about what it’s like to be me. Gay people are in the minority, so it’s more popular to be straight and market to straight people.”

Luka’s list of reasons to loath Bob Roth just kept growing and growing.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. But…what about what you want?”

“Well…” XY replied thoughtfully. “I want my stuff to sell because my music’s good now, so it would super suck if people didn’t hear it, but, especially lately, I kind of want you too, so…”

XY shrugged.

Luka stared at his roommate, trying to rehear the words that had just come out of XY’s mouth so that he could attempt to make sense of them.

“You…You want me?” Luka choked in an odd mixture of terror, delight, aversion, and intrigue.

XY nodded eagerly. “Yeah. So…what do ya think? Do you wanna get drunk and have sex?”

Luka’s eyes widened as a figurative bucket of icy water was thrown upon him. “What do people usually do when you ask them that?” he couldn’t help but wonder.

XY just shrugged, unwilling to admit that Luka was the only person he’d ever asked. “Or we could just have sex, if you don’t want to get drunk. I brought some really legit tequila from Mexico, though, so you’ll be missing out.”

Luka considered for a moment whether or not XY would understand the term “demisexual” or if that would only lead to unnecessarily complicated misunderstandings and stupid malapropisms that Luka wasn’t really in the mood for at two AM.

Luka cut to the chase: “I’m really flattered that you would ask, but I only sleep with people I’m in love with.”

XY stared at Luka intently for a minute. “Okay. Challenge accepted.”

Luka’s head tipped to the side as he leaned forward and frowned. “Wait. What?”

XY steamrolled right ahead: “So, if you don’t want to have sex, do you want to maybe make out and snuggle?”

He looked at Luka expectantly, a hopeful eagerness in his eyes.

“Have you ever kissed a guy before?” Luka had to wonder.

A pouty expression came to XY’s face, suggesting that he was not happy to be found out. Regardless, he shook his head in answer.

Luka took a deep breath, realizing that this was XY experimenting with his sexuality and trying to understand himself and find out what made him happy, irrespective of what his father told him he had to do.

That left Luka feeling a little stuck. It would be kind of crumby of Luka to shut the guy down after he’d opened up to Luka and shown vulnerability. Something told Luka that, even though XY had seemingly come a long way since the last time their paths had crossed, the guy didn’t regularly show weakness or vulnerability to anyone. What if Luka said no and XY never opened up to anyone again and ended up alone forever because Luka was feeling tired and a little too drunk to be making these decisions.

A voice in the back of his mind told him that he sounded like Marinette with all of his what ifs, but…

Suddenly, he remembered a night on The Liberty, sitting on the couch with sixteen-year-old Adrien in the early hours of the morning, snuggling and watching…Luka couldn’t even remember what anime it had been now.

Adrien looking up through drooping eyelids, asking in a scared, bare voice, “May I kiss you?”

After that, Luka had vowed never to be anyone’s sexuality experiment ever again, but…

“…Okay,” he decided.

XY’s face blazed with excitement. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Luka confirmed, kicking off the sheets and making his way over to XY’s bed to sink down on top of the covers.

“Killer!” XY cheered.

“Shot of tequila first, please,” Luka requested. “Then making out. Then snuggling. Clothes stay on.”

XY nodded enthusiastically, going to fetch the bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Sounds dope.”

XY filled both of their glasses and then handed one to Luka, careful as he climbed back up onto the bed.

“Cheers.” Luka raised his glass, and XY clinked his own against it before they both downed their shots.

Depositing the glasses on the nightstand, Luka looked back to XY.

XY studied Luka expectantly, nervously.

Luka reached out slowly, gently taking XY by the jaw and pulling him in for a soft, closed-mouthed kiss.

XY quickly got the idea, and their lips began to move together, the kiss deepening fast.

All things considered, XY wasn’t a bad kisser. A little too eager at times, a little too excitable, but that was okay because Luka could tell that this kiss meant so much more to XY than to Luka. After all, hadn’t Luka been a little overeager the first time he had kissed a boy?

After a few minutes, Luka carefully maneuvered so that, without breaking the kiss, he could lie down, carefully guiding XY down after him so that XY would be on top and not feel trapped or overwhelmed if he decided he wanted to stop.

In the back of Luka’s mind, a voice that sounded like Adrien asked, “Yeah, but what if you decide that you want to stop?”

Strangely enough, Luka didn’t.

Fifteen minutes in, it was actually shaping up to be a pretty good kiss. Luka could feel the alcohol blurring his mind again, making him forget the messy state his love life was in at the moment and allowing him to just enjoy the sensation of someone’s tongue down his throat.

Gradually, the pace slowed, winding down as XY settled in beside Luka, snuggling up and pressing gentle kisses to Luka’s cheek, chin, neck, shoulder.

“How was that?” XY asked nervously even as he tried to keep up a confident façade. “That was pretty ballin’, right? Hella sick, yeah?”

“That was good, yeah,” Luka confirmed. “A good kiss.”

“I thought I’d be good at it,” XY preened. “I’m pretty dope myself.”

Luka stilled. “…Was that…your first kiss ever?”

“Yeah,” XY replied a tad defensively. “Why?”

“I just thought that you’d have kissed girls before, so…I’m a little surprised. It’s not bad or anything, though, that that was your first kiss,” Luka rushed to assure.

XY shrugged, snuggling in closer and nuzzling Luka’s hair. “I’ve just never been interested in kissing any of the girls my dad had me date.”

A stray thought crossed Luka’s mind: “Maybe he’s demi too”.

That didn’t explain him wanting to sleep with Luka so soon, but…

“Why don’t Adrien and Marinette keep you around permanently?”

The question caught Luka off guard, leaving him taken aback.

“I mean, you’re really dope,” XY explained in a logical, reasonable fashion. “And you obviously love them. Do they not love you?”

He didn’t mean it cruelly, but it still hurt.

The pleasant buzz of the tequila instantly drained from Luka’s system. “They do,” he replied, voice cracking. He swallowed and tried again. “They do love me. It’s just…Adrien and Marinette are a complete universe unto themselves.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They don’t love me as much as they love one another, so sometimes I feel like I don’t fit with them, like there’s not enough space for me even though…”

XY lifted his head to gaze questioningly down at Luka. “Even though…?”

Luka sighed, pushing himself up and sliding out of bed. He went over to the dresser where he’d left his clothes and dug out his wallet, bringing it back to the bed. He fished out a photo and handed it to XY, setting the wallet down on the nightstand and slipping back under the covers.

“That’s Marinette and Adrien’s son,” Luka explained with a sigh.

XY studied the picture of a beautiful young woman and handsome young man holding between them a toddler with lovely black hair and clear blue eyes.

It could just be that the boy resembled his mother, but…XY knew those blue eyes too well to mistake them. He’d been seeing those same eyes in his dreams since the day Luka had stopped in the hallway of the television studio to give XY a speech that changed his life.

“He looks just like you,” XY muttered reverently.

Luka’s lips pulled into a sad smile. “His name is Hugo. I see him fairly often, at least once a week unless I’m out of town touring. I babysit a lot, but it’s not the same as really being a part of his everyday life…of their everyday life.”

“You’re not happy just being in a part-time relationship,” XY surmised softly.

Luka nodded, gently taking back the picture and carefully replacing it in his wallet. “They love me, but I’m not number one to either of them. Most of the time, it’s fine. What I have is enough because it is love, and we are a family, and I am happy, I really am. Sometimes, though…I want to pound my head against a wall because it’s not enough.”

“You deserve to be somebody’s number one,” XY whispered soothingly, as if validating Luka’s frustration and hurt and emptiness.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” Luka laughed ironically.

“You’re a little drunk and sad,” XY explained so that Luka didn’t have to.

“Yeah,” Luka sighed. “Yeah, I am.”

XY lowered his lips to Luka’s for a languid, lingering kiss, and Luka didn’t protest, letting it happen.

He decided not to worry about it or judge his behavior. After all, didn’t everyone, at some point, get sad and lonely and end up making out with someone they barely knew just to get a taste of human warmth and intimacy?

It was just kissing, and Luka could do a heck of a lot worse for a partner.

 Luka stirred several times during the short night, and each time he briefly thought that he was at Marinette and Adrien’s. Each time after he remembered, he wondered, “What the hell am I doing?” and contemplated getting up and going to sleep in the other bed. Each time, he ultimately decided against it and snuggled in closer to XY, letting himself enjoy the feeling of another person’s presence as he shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

At a little after half past nine, Luka woke with a throbbing headache, and the sunlight streaming in through the window would not allow him to get back to sleep.

If the sound of running water in the bathroom was anything to go by, XY was in the shower.

Luka contemplated his next move.

On the one hand, he kind of wanted to slink out and never see XY again because Luka had been a little drunk, and he vaguely remembered talking about Marinette and Adrien and Hugo, and that was never a good thing when Luka was in one of his melancholy moods (which had definitely been the case the previous night).

On the other hand, he also kind of recollected XY admitting that he had never kissed a guy before, never kissed anyone before, and even though the blonde was kind of dumb and seemingly indifferent about most things, Luka was betting that XY was experiencing some sort of feelings about the make out session and snuggling. It would be a jerk move for Luka to just run out after that.

With a sigh and some effort, he leveraged himself out of bed and onto his feet, grabbing the notepad and pen from the bedside table to write a quick note: “Sorry I had to dash. It was nice talking with you. I’ll call you soon about the collab.”

That accomplished, he put the note underneath XY’s phone so that it visibly stuck out but wasn’t in danger of being blown away.

He dressed in the clothes he’d worn the night before, made sure he had his wallet and his phone, and headed out.

He dropped the keycard in the return box next to the elevator and strode through the lobby of Le Grand Paris toward the front doors, coming to a halt as he noticed the flock of reporters buzzing about the entrance like a murder of crows, hoping to snap photos of celebrities from the party the night before taking the walk of shame.

Luka really didn’t want to go out there. He was hung over, tussled, and not in the mood for anyone to ask about his supposed affair with Adrien Agreste-Dupain-Cheng. He was kind of afraid of them asking with whom he’d spent the night at the hotel, afraid of them accusing him of cheating on Adrien on top of being a homewrecker.

He decided to wait it out a bit in the sitting area, hoping the crowd would thin and he’d be able to make his escape unmolested. He waited fifteen minutes, but the mob showed no signs of dispersing.

“Oh, hey! I’m glad I caught you,” XY called out, hustling over to Luka. He looked slightly out of breath, a little flustered.

“Oh, hey,” Luka greeted, feeling awkward. “Sorry for running off. I have a meeting this afternoon that I really wanted to get some things done before, so I was hurrying home, but there’s kind of a herd of reporters out front, so…”

Luka looked hopefully towards the entrance only to have the optimism kicked out of him when it appeared that the pack had only grown.

“I was hoping they’d go away if I waited them out a bit,” Luka sighed.

XY frowned in confusion. “Why don’t you just go the back way?”

Luka blinked dumbly. “Back way?”

“Yeah. Come on. I’ll show you.” XY motioned for Luka to follow as he headed back to the elevators and pushed the down button. “Tell your car to pull into that alley behind the hotel.”

“Uh…” Luka bit his lip. “I don’t have a car. But it’s fine; I’ll just get a taxi.”

XY clicked his tongue. “Dude. Don’t you have money now? I thought you weren’t poor anymore.”

Luka’s brow creased slightly in annoyance at the resurgence of a flash of the old XY. “Just because I have money doesn’t mean I spend it recklessly. Normally, I drive a motorcycle, but last night I got a cab to drop me off.”

XY shrugged, completely missing Luka’s defensive tone. “Meh. No sweat. You can just borrow one of mine.”

Before Luka could protest, XY pulled out his phone and shot off a text. “My driver will be there in, like, two minutes. Pretty dope, huh? I’ve got three drivers,” he boasted.

Luka was not impressed. Maybe it was the hangover, but XY was starting to rub Luka the wrong way again…except…he was being rather nice, showing Luka the way out and getting Luka a ride…even if he did it so obnoxiously.

XY started to prattle on about his miniature fleet of cars, and Luka sort of tuned out, mostly missing the substance of what XY was saying but still nodding along to the words and adding “oh, really?”s and “wow”s in the pauses. That seemed to satisfy XY.

Thankfully, they reached the back door in under ten minutes, and the car was ready and waiting to take Luka home.

It was then that he felt a little bad for being so short with XY. The guy really had done him a favour…and was a good kisser.

“Here we are. George will make sure you get home.” XY motioned to the car as if he were unveiling…well…a car, but as if he were on a game show or something.

“Thank you,” Luka replied with genuine gratitude. “I appreciate it. You really saved the day.”

“All in a day’s work, Citizen,” XY assured as he flexed comically, showing off his muscles in a cartoonish way that made Luka wonder whether or not XY were serious.

Luka gave a soft chuckle, thinking, “What a dork. At least he’s cute.”

The thought kind of caught him by surprise.

XY’s expression transitioned into what could probably qualify as serious for him as he turned back to Luka, asking hopefully, “I’ll see you again soon, yeah?”

Luka was a little taken aback by XY’s sincerity. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll give your music a listen and call you about a collab. For sure.”

XY’s face exploded into a firework of joy.

“Rad!” he cheered, leaning in and planting a sloppy kiss on Luka’s cheek. “I’m super stoked!”

Luka could only nod and wave as he went over to the car, climbing into the backseat in a daze as he tried to sort out what exactly was happening in his life.

In his distracted state, he accidentally gave the driver the address of The Liberty instead of the flat he lived in half of the time.

He didn’t stress about it. He had bigger issues to deal with.

[pips-fics]

ask: can i request a scenario when chan has a stomach bug but only the maknae line is at home so they take care of him?

this is my first time responding to an ask!!!  so exciting!  hope you like how it turned out :) 

——

tw: vomiting/emeto

woojin loved all of the members of stray kids a whole damn lot.  he loved each and every one of them, really.  changbin and minho included.  he loved them with his whole heart, loved them to the moon and back, even if they can’t whisper to save their lives, i love them.

“why don’t they ever shut up,” chan mumbled from the bunk below woojin’s, sounding very distinctly like he had a headache.

i love them, i love them, i love them… the mantra was on loop in his mind as he dragged himself out of bed at half past midnight ready to shove an entire pillow down both of their throats to silence them.

“what if we add hot sauce-“ woojin heard minho chuckle, interrupting changbin who immediately broke down into almost muffled giggles before continuing, “what if we add hot sauce to pancake batter and see who can eat more?”

when woojin walked into the room, the two were in tears laughing.  he cleared his throat and whispered (actually whispered!  can you imagine?) in a calm, steady manner.  “hey, idiots.”

the idiots went silent immediately.  their lips still wobbled with uncertain smiles trying to force a way onto their faces.  woojin sharpened his glare.

“it’s after midnight.  shut up, you fully grown brats.”

finally, the fiends managed to look remorseful.  minho rubbed the back of his neck, while changbin cleared his throat and spoke up.  “right, sorry, woojin-hyung.”

“we’ll be quieter!”  minho chimed in.  woojin nodded.

“what were you two up to anyway?  i thought everyone would be completely wiped after these pasta few weeks.”

they’d been promoting for two weeks, and had spent the week prior preparing for the their new album.  it had been practice nonstop, and then promos nonstop, woojin didn’t understand how these two had any energy left at all.

changbin scratched the back of his head and gave minho a side-eyed glance.

minho smirked.  “we were… hungry.”

“uh-huh.”  woojin was skeptical.  hadn’t he heard something about hot sauce and pancakes?  and why was there lettuce on one of the kitchen stools?  he shook his head, and went to the cabinet.  he pulled out some instant ramen and shoved it firmly towards the younger boys’ chests.

“make this.  no hot sauce, no lettuce.  you can hard boil eggs in it if you want, but do that and then go to bed after you’ve eaten.  understood?”

both boys nodding up at him, woojin remembered that yes, he did love them.  as long as they allowed him to sleep.

so back to the bedroom he went.  he opened the door slowly.  “chan?  they should be quiet now.”

the only response woojin received was a soft snore.  he smiled slightly as his eyes fell upon his leader’s sleeping face, visible thanks to the light from the hallway.  woojin couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen chan asleep before 1 am, and it was a relief, now, to say the least.

content, woojin started to close the door to their room, even more slowly than he’d opened it, not wanting to startle chan.  the door wasn’t even closed when all of a sudden a loud crash followed by a short yelp, and then another crash, sounded throughout the dorm.  woojin saw chan startle and roll over, grumbling sadly, and his blood boiled.

changbin cackled, minho sniggered, neither of them bothering to even attempt inside voices, and woojin gathered all of his willpower to avoid slamming his bedroom door on the way out.

changbin and minho must have heard him coming, socked feet all but stomping towards them, because woojin found them hiding behind the counter.  rather than speaking, he grabbed both of their noses and pulled them straight outside.  he didn’t let go until they were on the ground level, and the two younger boys were practically cowering.

“you two were really ready to wake chan on the first night that he’s slept in, what, months?”

the cowering intensified.  woojin reminded himself: i love them.  he reminded himself: they’re hungry.  he reminded himself: they’re crazy, because they’re hungry.

he sighed, and pulled out his wallet, waving it around a bit.  “let’s go find something to eat, you actual children.”

——

it was quiet in the dorm, then.  for another 30 minutes, it was completely silent.  

and then chan woke up, immediately and very  vaguely aware that woojin had done him a big, big favor.  mostly, though, he just wanted to go back to sleep.  he wanted sleep more badly than he could ever remember wanting anything in his life.  unfortunately, he was freezing.

head pounding, body shaking, and stomach unsettled, chan rolled out of bed with a sudden and stubborn conviction that he rarely got what he wanted.  this was reinforced when he realized that woojin was not in his bed, and neither was minho, greatly reducing his chances of finding a snuggle buddy to warm him up within walking distance.

he tried to settle for dragging three of minho’s numerous blankets back to bed with him, but he didn’t feel warmer.  he just felt more alone.

chan hated feeling alone.

so, even though it felt infinitely far away, he stumbled his way to the shared space of the dorm.  if he could just find one of his other members too cuddle with, he was sure that he would be warm enough to sleep.  there was nobody in the common room, though, and chan wanted to cry.  walking made him so dizzy, he was so exhausted.  his legs didn’t want to hold him.

but he hated being alone.

he got up, and his stomach did flips.

after a quick rest on the couch, chan was on shaky legs again, this time leaning heavily against the walls as he went.  he was looking for jisung, or hyunjin, or changbin - someone who would snuggle with him, no questions asked.  he tried to be quiet as he entered their bedroom, but he missed a step while entering and the door slammed against the wall.

someone (hyunjin?) grumbled unhappily, someone else - probably jeongin - whined while still somehow sleeping.  and someone shot straight up in bed with a gasp that was probably a suppressed scream.

“…channie-hyung?”  unsurprisingly, that was jisung.

“sorry,” chan mumbled.  his head was hurting worse than ever, and walking had made him nauseous.  all he wanted was… sleep.  he crawled into bed beside the younger boy.  “‘m tired.”

“um…” jisung shifted so that he could look closely at chan, then spoke quietly.  “okay.  why aren’t you asleep in your own bed, hyung?”

chan’s head throbbed.  he hadn’t thought jisung would ask so many questions.  “it’s cold,” he mumbled in absent-minded english, snuggling closer to his friend.  “can i stay here?” 

it took jisung’s sleepy brain a second to figure out that chan wasn’t speaking korean, and another to understand what he was saying. 

“yeah but-“ he could feel sweat seeping through chan’s t-shirt, “are you sick, hyung?”

“hm?”  chan was half-asleep already.  jisung put a hand on chan’s head and cringed.

“chan?  can you sit up for a second?”

“no.”

jisung frowned, uncertain as to what he should do.  “c’mon, hyung, why are you being difficult?”

“just wanna sleep.”

jisung shook his head, mystified, once again barely deciphering chan’s slurred english.  he decided to leave it alone for the time being.  anyway, it wasn’t like he didn’t get it - he just wanted to sleep, too.  and sleep was good for healing, anyway.  he’d check on chan again in the morning.

——

no more than 20 minutes had passed when jisung woke up again, this time to chan flailing wildly and then running out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him and effectively waking everyone in it who might have continued sleeping.

“what’s going on?”  jeongin asked.

“what now?” hyunjin growled.

“nothing, guys, don’t worry about-“ jisung’s train of thought stuttered as loud heaving sounds reached his ears.

“someone’s sick, who’s sick?”  hyunjin questioned, now out of bed.

“it’s chan-hyung,” jisung sighed, resigned.  “i’ll go check on him.  you guys go back to sleep, he’ll be fine.”

jeongin flopped onto his back, but hyunjin just nodded and leaned against the bed with his arms crossed, as if standing guard.

ignoring hyunjin for the moment, jisung went to the bathroom.  the door was cracked open so he knocked lightly.  “channie-hyung?  i’m coming in.”

he was not surprised to find chan, kneeling on the ground, shaking like a leaf, with his hand on his bare chest, trying to catch his breath.  more surprising was that felix was somehow already there, sitting on the ledge of the bathtub with his hand on chan’s back.  chan’s shirt was messy and discarded on the ground beside him, small hiccups were wracking his frame, and when he looked up, there were tears in his eyes.

“jisungie?”

“ah, hyung, why are you crying?”  jisung knelt down beside the older boy, who was crying harder now and making grabby hands at felix.  felix drew chan into a hug, and jisung gently played with chan’s hair until he jerked away from them both, dipping his head into the toilet.  almost immediately, a violent stream of sick poured out, all while chan continued sobbing.

“i think he’s missing home,” felix mumbled quietly.  jisung’s eyes widened.  he shouldn’t have been so surprised, really.  of course chan would miss home.  but still, it had been years since he’d seen any indication of homesickness, in stark contrast to felix, who often relied on members for comfort when missing australia.  but he and chan were so different.  even if they were similar in some ways, by virtue of his position as leader of course chan would be more quiet about his struggles.

“we should get him some water,” jisung said, nodding towards chan.  he paused a second taking a closer look at felix, who seemed a bit off-color.  “hey, you okay?”

felix nodded, but jisung wasn’t buying it.  thinking about it, he wasn’t sure whether felix got squeamish or not, but if he were to guess at this point, he’d say… “yes.”  or maybe “definitely.”

“o-kay.  can you go grab him some water?”

felix nodded again, this time more convincingly, and stood.  chan whined and jisung shushed him, shooing felix out with his hand.  “channie-hyung, he’s just gonna get you some water, okay?  i’ll stay here with you.”

jisung put a hand to chan’s forehead.  sure enough, it was even warmer now than the last time he’d checked.  unsurprising, considering how chan was acting.  it was unusual for the older boy to open up about anything that was upsetting him, even subtly.  jisung couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen chan express any sort of discontent, actually.

“water delivery!”  instead of felix, hyunjin came in with a glass of cool water.

“hey, channie-hyung, how are you doing?”  hyunjin walked in, offering a glass of water.  

when hyunjin crouched down and pressed it to his lips, chan slowly sipped the water, still curled close to jisung.  hyunjin looked at jisung awkwardly.  jisung looked at chan.

“where’s felix?”  chan mumbled desperately, slipping into english once again.  hyunjin cringed.

“he, uh, needed to rest for a bit,” hyunjin explained.  jisung wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he guessed that meant felix had felt even worse than he’d looked.  chan’s hopeful expression crumbled.

“i miss him…”  chan whined.  jisung sighed.

“he’s right outside, buddy.  how are you feeling?  you wanna go to bed?”

chan made a groaning noise that was definitely not in the affirmative.  looking at him more closely, jisung knew why.  chan’s eyes were squeezed shut, and jisung could see sweat drops on his face.

“okay, c’mon,” jisung put a hand on chan’s back, helping him sit up over the toilet once again.  “hyunjin, can you get woojin-hyung?”

“right, about that…” chan retched and hyunjin flinched.  “woojin-hyung isn’t here.”

“neither are minho-hyung or changbin-hyung!”  jeongin shouted from the hallway.  chan vomited, then groaned loudly.

“feel… so sick,” he complained.  jisung squeezed his shoulder.

“i know, buddy.”

“where’s felix?” chan whimpered, coughing.  his whole body was trembling.  “want felix back…”

hyunjin made an x with his hands, shaking his head quickly.

“uh… we’ll see felix in a minute, buddy.  i miss him, too.”

chan, who seemed to be done puking, shuddered and curled up on the floor.  “hey, nuh-uh.  you are not sleeping on the floor,” hyunjin scolded.  hyunjin lifted chan up and in the process got captured by a koala.  jisung laughed, watching hyunjin flail dramatically and complain about germs, but relent immediately when he saw chan’s miserable expression.  by the time seungmin came back with a thermometer and tea, hyunjin was laying flat on his back on the floor, with chan laying directly on top of him.

“i’m not sleeping on the floor, i’m sleeping on hyunjin,” chan said, sounding content.  jisung snorted.  they were cute, but this was not going to work for either of them for a whole night, and both of them needed sleep.

“okay, let’s get you to bed,” jisung said in his most authoritative voice.  chan pouted as hyunjin sat up and wrapped his arms and lets around the younger boy’s torso.

“no.”

“hyung!”  hyunjin frowned at chan.

“where’s felix?”  chan asked, persistently, and upset once again.

“channie-hyung, i bet felix would sleep with you if you get off the floor.  or, off of hyunjin, i guess…”

at that, chan perked up.  hyunjin joined in.

“you gotta go to bed, though.  your actual bed.  or felix’s.  a bed.”

chan pouted, but thankfully stood up, leaning on hyunjin and jisung for support.  they led him to felix’s room, where they found the younger australian boy already in bed, apparently already asleep.

“what are you guys doing?”  seungmin asked, startling all three of the others.

“chan’s sick.  what are you doing?”  hyunjin asked, eyeing the younger boy skeptically.  seungmin shrugged, his face lit by his phone light.

“listening to music.  i’ll keep an eye on him.”

“‘m fine,” chan mumbled, stumbling into bed with felix.

“lix…”  chan whined, hugging the younger boy.  felix’s face scrunched up before he opened his eyes, squinting and reluctant until he saw chan.

“channie… hyung?”

“can i sleep here?  please?”  chan was begging, which was almost humorous considering how slim the chances of felix ever denying him.

“‘course,” felix mumbled, wrapping chan in a hug and petting his hair.  “you’ll feel better soon, hyung.”

meanwhile, hyunjin explained to jisung and seungmin that felix had nearly vomited after seeing chan get sick.  seungmin volunteered to accompany chan if he had to be sick later that night.  fortunately, seungmin wasn’t squeamish, and could speak english.  still, jisung decided to take changbin’s bed for the night, just in case.

——

when woojin returned with a sleepy minho and changbin, the dorm was silent, but they quickly realized that something was off.  changbin was the first to notice, mainly because jisung was in changbin’s bed.  he made his way to woojin and minho’s room, where woojin was just about to step into the hallway.  woojin raised an eyebrow at changbin and let him in.

“chan’s not in his bed, is he on the couch?”

“uh, no, he’s with felix.  and jisung stole my bed,” changbin pouted.  woojin smirked.

“well why don’t you steal chan’s bed, then?”  changbin nodded, too exhausted to argue.  minho spoke up from where he was lying on his own bed.

“i guess chan woke up even without us trying to make food.  we could’ve just eaten here.”  woojin could hear the smirk in his voice.

“yeah, yeah, i’m so sure.  you’re welcome for saving you not only from chan’s wrath, but also food poisoning.”

minho laughed and woojin smirked.  “okay, time for bed before you two get any other crazy ideas.  we’ll see what went on while we weren’t here tomorrow morning.”

[hxnjisxng]

Snowdrops || Han Jisung || The Language of the Flowers AU ||

So idk i haven’t written in a really long time but i’m really excited for this so !! This is also my first time ever writing bullet thingie so,, yeah,,, not all of these will be in the bullet format I just felt like trying out smth new !! and to stay true to my ult Han Jisung i will write about him first. In this like,,, kinda cute little series thing. Every theme will kinda just relate to the flower meaning so,,, yeet !! Also, s/o to my one and only bub @chenle who told me to tag her when my first official writing thing happened so here !!!

Genre: Bad Boy!Jisung x Piano Player!Reader au; bulleted scenario  

Warnings: none !!

Word Count: 3.2k 

| Jisung | Minho | Chan | Changbin | Jeongin | Seungmin | Felix | Woojin | Hyunjin |

{picture not mine, credits to owner}

Snowdrop: (noun) A European flower which bears white flowers and blooms in February/early March, it signifies the end of winter and the coming of spring. Represents hope, purity, warmth, and new beginnings. 

Ever since you were little you’ve known you’ve wanted to be a pianist

It all started when you were younger and you went to see an orchestra with your parents

They 100% expected you to fall asleep in the first,,, like,,, five seconds after you came into the theater

What they did not expect is for you to sit there starry eyed staring at the person playing the piano for a whole 3 hours

They were,,, sister shook,,,,

But they didn’t think much of it, you know, like yeah they just like classical music

You know, as one does

But the second y’all got back into the car that was it

You wouldn’t stop talking about how pretty the music sounded

How much you liked the sound of pressing keys and the sound of the pedal lifting or the sound of the mallets and strings inside of the piano

You loved it

It was as though you had just found your one and only true love, y’all know, the yee to your haw

The ying to your yang

The chris to your weed

Sorry back to the point

You just couldn’t explain it, little four year old you just knew the fluttering feeling in your heart was a good one

So your parents signed you up for piano

They said they would find you the best teacher they could, one that could make you great

So that’s what they did

From a week after that concert, you started piano lessons

And you only fell more in love with the piano as time went on

So, after this little bit of context, flash back to reality 

oop there goes gravity oop

there goes rabbit he chokes

Sorry okay eminem is my calling

So it’s the end of winter, it’s been a really cold and bitter winter, but it’s around the end of february and somehow it just HaS noT gotten any warmer

And here we meet our boy jisung

Our chipmunk, our squirrel, our boi yk

But he’s a little bit of a hooligan

A bad boy if you will

You know, the leather jacket, the messy hair, the snarky attitude, the cocky jokes and the cute smile you knOW and he always always ALWAYS has a lollipop

A pink lemonade lollipop to be exact

It’s his favorite flavour

Any who, he’s one of those guys, the type of guy that almost everyone either wants to be him or with him

He’s also a part of a trio of you know bad boys at your school, the other two being his best buds Chan and Changbin

They call themselves 3RACHA

They’re as tight knit as can be, they do everything together

Skip class, hang out, throw parties

You know all that bAd bOY stUfF

He also has a slight reputation to get into fights every so often

Maybe not only so often

Maybe vERY often

But he’s trying his best okay those people just get on his nerves when they poke fun of one of his friends or his music

“I’m just a little misunderstood, okay I didn’t wanna break his nose it just sometimes happens, you know, my hand just kinda lost control of itself and hit him in the nose really really really hard. I swear.”

“Mr. Han, I distinctly remember you telling him to shove a stick up his, excuse my language, ass, and then proceeding to punch him.”

*them sitting in a perfectly silent office* “hM sorry it just got really loud in here, pardon???” :))))))

Real footage of Jisung last week after breaking some guy’s nose  

He also loves loves LoVES music

Loves all music

Except for classical and country

He’s always despised classical music, it just seemed so boring

There’s no pounding beat

No lyrics to scream along to

He just found everything about it depressing and irritating and just monotone

Well one day, as he was wandering through the school

You know, as one does when their friends were busy doing who knows what during lunch

He stumbled into the music hall

Now this was an accident

He didn’t really want to be here since the only courses your school offered in terms of music were classical ones

And again

Gross

But for some weird, strange, odd-ball, out of this world, sister shook reason

He felt like he needed to be here

That’s when he heard it

tHE hiLLS aRE aLiVE wiTH

The sound of music

Not the kind of music he liked

It was definitely classical music, so y’all, it’s disgusting

‘I should go, the music is starting to make me depressed already’ he mumbled

But his feet wouldn’t move, his body just kinda froze

It felt like something was just pulling him to that room, to that ugly boring nasty music

And it’s not like he’s never listened to classical before, he had, but this time something was weird about it

He still didn’t like it, it all still sounded the same, nothing interesting

But something for some weiRD REASON was telling him to go to that room

Like something was a little different about the way it was being played

‘Maybe,,,, I should just look for a couple seconds and,,,,,,, tell the person to stop playing that boring stuff,,,, or maybe I could just listen for a bit,,, but like obviously no that’s nasty,,,,’

The door was slightly ajar, so the music was just drifting through the air

Just calling him over

Jisung slowly walked up to the door, and peeped through the window

And there you were

You, reader, in all of your piano classical music glory

Sat there playing your heart out to the world

In that moment when he saw you with your hair slightly drifting over your face

Your eyebrows slightly scrunched up in concentration as your hands ran across the keys

His heart was screaming

Literally just like

dabdikajbksbfkajbDNBDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

He almost forgot about the fact he hated classical music if he could just watch you play it all day

Wait,,, what no,,,,

Gross,,,,, the Han Jisung doesn’t like people that easily,,,,,, nuh-uh thats def not him folks

And he got so scared by that feeling

The one inside of his chest

He was scared of how it made his hands feel tingly and it made him feel like he stood up too fast because his head felt so rushed and light

It felt like he was flying, but also crashing down to earth at the same time

And when I say scared

I mean terrified

This boy is mortified of catching feelings

Definitely not because in the third grade the person he liked stomped all over his heart because they wouldn’t give him a cracker,,,,, no who even thOughT tHaT hAHa

Just the thought of him truly giving his whole heart to someone ?? unacceptable

Like in this economy ?? liking someone ?? unreasonable

So he did the only logical thing

He ran away

Far back to the other side of school

And he was so out of it for the rest of the day, he just couldn’t handle it

He even went back to class next period because he was so out of it

“W-welcome Mr. Han take a seat, it’s a pleasure to have you finally join us.”

“mm-hmm”

He didn’t pay attention all day though, his mind was only occupied by you

Cheesy, I know, but it was

Even when he went to hang out with Chan and Changbin

“Bro,,, where were you during lunch ?? you kinda just disappeared”

“I was uhhh,,,, in the library,,,”

“The library ?? are you good ???”

“Yeah,,,,, im fine it’s cool,,,”

“Dude, you alright you seem a little weird.”

“Yeah,,,,,,,,, im just thinking”

Jisung thInKing ??? unheard of

So, this terrified Chan and Changbin because whenever Jisung thinks it’s never good

But it’s been three days since he saw you

And he’s still thinking about you and he’s kinda emo about it

Because, of course, you occupied his thoughts, the song you were playing stuck in his mind on a loop

This is so cheesy please forgive me

It was so bad that he started hearing it everywhere, it even started placing itself into his music and the lyrics he was writing somehow all revolved around love

He’d sit there for hours writing lyrics until he realized all of it in some way tied back to you

It was bothering him

Like a lot

So now it’s been a whole six days, and trust me he’s been counting and he thought he could take it,,, you know not see you,,,

Until he’s had enough

He needed to go see you again otherwise he felt like his head would explode

And it wasn’t because he liked you or anything,,, he just wanted to see you so he wouldn’t write any more music about you,,,,, because this was just SuPeR gRoSS

So he went to the same hall, the same room, the same time, and there he saw you

Still working on the same part of the piece

It was just as beautiful as the first time he heard it and he honestly was in awe of how your hands moved across the piano as though they were as light as air

Anyone even from a million kilometers away could tell you were frustrated with this part

He wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to worry because it was beautiful

He wanted to just go in there and tell you that your playing is amazing and hold your hands and just comfort you

But he just couldn’t say anything

And he could always say something, he never stopped talking

And his heart was still doing the same flippity flop screaming thing in his chest

Big surprise, i know

But then,,,, he had a genius idea,,,, like spectacular,,,, like nobel prize winning idea,,,

“Maybe if i see them all the time,,,,, my heart will get used to it and it won’t flippity flop anymore :’D,,,,,,”

wow ,,,, genius i know you don’t have to tell him

So instead of saying anything, or ignoring you any longer, he decided

I’m just gonna come here and watch them play every day because as long as I see them and never talk to her,,,, eventually whatever weird heart thing i have will go away !!!!!

So that is exactly what he did

Every single day for the next coming three weeks,,, he would disappear during lunch and go and watch you play

Changbin and Chan were getting suspicious but they never asked,,, so Jisung thought he was so slick you know

So it’s been weeks of him doing this

It’s now around the end of February, and he planned on doing smth for Valentines day,,,

Not,, because he liked you or because it was valentines day, but because he just,,, somehow planned to do it for February 14th

He was really counting on his genius 10000+ IQ plan to work

But, surprise surprise, his plan was failing

It was almost as though he liked you APPRECIATED !! your playing even more after seeing you play :))))))

Just seeing you just so cutely hunched over the piano

It made his heart hurt wiTH APPRECIATION FOR YOUR ARTISTRY NOT L O V E

Haha obviously,,,,,, not love,,,,,, who even said that y’all hear summ ????

And he realized maybe he just ReaLLY REALLY reAllY wanted to be your friend !!

Really really close friend !!

And that’s why he wanted to talk to you !! And hold you !! Like F R I E N D S do !! haha !!

And you know this mentality was really working great, until one Thursday

It was near the beginning of March when it was getting a little warmer and all that green good grass was kinda appearing from under the snow,,, these little white flowers peeking out from under the melting snow and it was just so pretty that day

And all Jisung could think about was how beautiful you would look today outside

Holding his hand

In a totally PLATONIC and FRIENDLY way because he obviously just liked you as a friend

And maybe today he would tell you how much he wanted to be your friend :D

But that lunch you just didn’t show up for half an hour ??

He was confused,,,, like really confused

And also concerned ?? where were you,,, you were always here on time,, he even makes sure to show up 5 minutes after your usual arrival time so he could calmly sit outside of the door without getting caught

But today you weren’t there and he was about to leave and chicken out until he felt a hand on his shoulder

‘AHHHHHHHHHHHHH’

Istg he jumped like fifty feet in the air

“Hey,, you’re that guy who always sits outside when I practice !!! Han Jisung right ?? Sorry I was late I needed to talk to Mr.Park about a science assignment I have that’s due next week,, ”

Jisung.exe has stopped working

First of all,,,

yoU kNeW ?!?!?! and he thought he was so slick

Not only that you knew his nAMe and apologized for being late ??? did you like ??? cARE ABOUT HIM A LITTLE BIT

And he also just,,, kinda loved the way you just said his name

It made him UwU in ways he didn’t understand

In a friENDLY WAY

Oh who was he lying to at this point

Maybe he did like you just a LITTLE more than like a friend would like a friend  

so what,,, sue him,,,, 

He was so caught up in the million and five thoughts that were racing through his mind that he almost forgot to respond, so he managed to choke out the following charming and very expressive line:

“U-uh you know my name ???”

,,,,,good one Jisung,,, real smooth,,,,

You let out a light giggle and just kinda looked at him with this really soft expression

“Ofc I knew !!! I heard your foot tapping every single day and you also sat in front of an open door so,,, I kinda saw you the first day,,,”

SORRY NOT ONLY HAS JISUNG.EXE STOPPED WORKING HE JUST CRASHED ??? LIKE EXPLODED

Your hand,,,, was still on his shoulder,,, and you giggled again,,,,, how are you,,, so cute

Little did he know you freaked out the exaCt same way you saw him the first time in the hallways with his eyes closed and head leaning against the lockers

And not only that,,, he was just super pretty,,,

With the winter light perfectly hitting his face

His jacket slightly too big and it loosely drooped over his shoulders

I’m actually ruining myself imagining this wow thanks m e

So when you finally asked around after a couple days one of your friends told you who he was

The Han Jisung

The resident bad boy at your school, who liked to get into fights and allegedly also liked to play around with peoples hearts 

Which didn’t exactly scare you well maybe it did a little bit but we’re not here to expose ourselves

First of all you’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s probably just like any of us ?? people just kinda put him on a pedestal so you felt like you didn’t really need to treat him differently from anyone else

And with every time that he would sit outside of your practice room and listen you felt a little bit of that fear melting away because when he looked so relaxed and so pretty that his face just screamed UwU

But you gotta play it cool reader,,,because you’re slick and all that,,, you know

So you just kinda turn around and head into the music room without saying anything else

Which again gave him shock number 37429387129837 of the day

He was expecting you to do something,,, say something,,,,, but instead,,,,

You just smiled at him, and turned back to into the room, now sitting at the piano bench

He was confused

And mayhaps just the littlest bit disappointed  

He knew that everyone knew him, and that’s usually not the kind of reaction he gets, usually he gets a whole OH mY iT’s HaN jiSuNg scream or an angry disgusted look from people who didn’t like him

But no

Not you

Yet, what could he do

He was going to just,, sit back down in the hallway in his usual spot, or maybe just get up and leave since his cover has been blown and you probably think he’s super creepy

When your voice called out for him inside of the room

“Are you gonna come in or what?”

A small smile spread on his face as he stood up, and he noticed you had already set up a chair for him next to you at the piano

“So,,,, do you like classical music?”

“Um,, not really,, no.”

“Then,, why did you sit outside every day ??” 

You asked confused, your eyebrows slightly furrowing staring at him with intent

And he just found that so cute

So so so cute

So cute that it just made any confidence he had just disappear

“I-I justreallylikethewayyouplayitsoundsnice.”

He just really wanted you to stop looking at him like that it was going to make him actually just explode

You gave a breathy laugh at his cute antics,,, what was there not to like about this boy,,, I mean what a softie

Maybe he wasn’t too bad, ya know

Nothing to be afraid of

“You wanna hear me play one of my favorite songs?”

Jisung nodded his head, his hair lightly flopping on his forehead, kinda covering his eyes

Oh how bad you wanted to brush it out of his eyes and just pinch his cheeks but, alas, it shall not happen

Or will it ;);););;;;))))))))

So you with a light inhale you began playing on of your favorite pieces, it was strong and domineering, with an edge of superiority

If ya wanna check it out it’s actually one of my favorite pieces it’s Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G Minor, Op. 23, No. 5

As soon as you started, Jisung was already in a trance, the way your hands moved, the sound of your breath hitching every huge chord or octave jump

Damn Jisung was whipped

When you smiled at him after you finished the piece

With your eyes so bright, finally breathing normally again, and just a light pink blush that swept across your face

He felt his heart beat fast again

But this time

Mayhaps he didn’t want to run away

“So, what did you think? Did you like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like classical music maybe a little bit more now ??”

You asked with just the biggest grin on your face

“Hmm,, no i don’t think so,,” Jisung responded with the cheekiest smile known to mankind

“Then,,, I think you’re gonna have to come back here tomorrow so I can change your mind about that” ;)));))))))

WOWOW,, alright reader do y’all ever get tired of being so cute ??

As you continued playing the marvelous thought dawned upon Jisung

So maybe he did like classical music just a little bit more now

And,, maybe his heart beat faster with every second you looked at him

And maybe that feeling is not as bad as a thing as he thought it would be

Maybe it’s actually just the littlest bit nice

Just a little bit

[rorykillmore]

alright and here’s a birthday fic for @transrobro who wanted something with felix & camille!! it struck me while i was tossing around ideas for this that no one on denny has like. done anything with a post-denny au in a CRIMINALLY long time so this is sort of?? an idea for their’s??  combined with the idle passing thought that it’d be fun to write something with the two of them texting since we’ve headcanoned they do that.  think of this as like... an au happy (?) ending for them i guess....

happy birthday jay!!! i can’t put into words how happy i am to be able to mark down another year of being friends with you. i don’t tell you enough how often you make me feel better about whatevers going on in my life just by being around and making me laugh so hopefully in return i can at least brighten up your birthday a little bit with this fic!! camille and felix are another one of those “where the fuck did this come from” panfandom dynamics but i have enjoyed writing them with you SO much and i hope this pays tribute to that in some way. can’t wait to send them spiraling into disaster!,

(also as an added bonus, my mom wanted to tell you happy birthday too. she’s still grateful for the groot ornament.)

she likes the idea of a world where she doesn’t have to say goodbye to him.

To get back to normal, Camille figures she would have had to understand what ‘normal’ looked like to begin with.

But she has to admit, her life in this world has become more or less as stable as it’s ever been. She has a good, steady job and good, steady friends. Or, well. Maybe describing them that way is being generous, but she’s kind of glad it the real truth anyway. She can’t imagine many things more lonely than a world where all her friends have their shit together.

That doesn’t cancel out the important things, though. The little differences that become big, in the long run. On one of her darker days back home, Camille might have curled in on herself, might have disappeared out of sight, into herself, her skin itching as she pretends she’s not craving a drink or six.

Here, on her darker days, she finds that she usually texts Felix.

And he doesn’t ask a lot of questions. Sometimes he invites her out (he’s distinctly more of a partier than she is) and sometimes he just talks to her for a while, but he doesn’t hover, and he doesn’t ask if something’s wrong.  And it usually makes her feel a little... lighter.

Maybe there’s also something to be said for someone who you can also send random, passing thoughts to, day or night, without much fear of judgement. 

camille: [ Do you think everyone goes home eventually? ]

She hits ‘send’ and then lays back against her bedspread, tapping her fingers idly against the edge of her phone. It’s just a minute or two before Felix replies.

felix: [ I mean, everyone goes SOMEWHERE eventually? ]

felix: [ They don’t stay here ]

There’s no debating that, Camille supposes.

camille:  [ Yeah. I just meant, you think maybe some people don’t go back to the world they started out in? You think that’s possible? ]

Another short pause.

felix:  [ Why? ]

felix:   [ Thinkin you wanna go somewhere else? ]

She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t tempting. There’s not much left for Camille in her own world except painful memories, but she’s not sure she’d ever be able to forgive herself for never going back to Curry and Eileen.

And Amma.

As much as she can go back to Amma.

camille:  [ Actually I was thinking of you. ]

It catches Felix off guard. At least, that’s what Camille guesses, because there’s more than just a brief pause on his end this time. Momentarily, she wonders whether she should have brought it up at all. There aren’t many subjects between them that qualify as ‘too grim’, but... maybe the fact that Felix has even less to go home to than she does is one of them.

But then his reply comes.

felix: [ Maybe I should start looking into that ]

Camille fails to fight off a smile. Of course he’d turn it into a joke. She doesn’t call him on it, though, just rolls with it.

camille:  [ Where would you wanna end up? ]

felix:  [ You know ]

felix:  [ Someplace warm ]

felix: [ Maybe perpetually warm. But not like that global warming bullshit ]

Camille manages a laugh this time. It fills the empty space of her bedroom in a way that’s strangely comforting.

camille: [ Well if the opportunity presents itself, you can always come home with me. ] 

Maybe it’s a strange thing to say. At the very least, it suggests a kind of permanency that has always been beyond reach of the friendship they’ve formed here. Something in her chest twinges painfully at the thought of never seeing him again.

camille:  [ Sorry, I’ve had a little bit to drink. ]

Just a glass of wine, actually, but she uses the excuse all the same.

camille: [ My world’s pretty shitty anyway. ]

She doesn’t get the chance to ramble on much further before Felix’s reply pops up on her screen.

felix: [ Hey, can’t be worse than this one right? ]

felix: [ What with the truth compulsion, the body swaps, the.. whatever the fuck happened to us the other week ]

felix: [ Course I’d be down to go with you back to your batshit world! ]

Camille snorts, but some strange sense of fondness warms her chest all the same.

They don’t really talk about it again after that. They don’t need to -- it’s just a hypothetical, after all. Even still, she doesn’t think she’s imagining that it almost feels like they’ve admitted something to each other.

**

And then one day it is real. 

Camille’s actually having trouble processing the realness of it. The open rift in front of them. The hazy, pleasant, sickening image of Wind Gap’s neat little rows of houses swimming on the other side.

If coincidence still exists in a world like this, she’d say it’s coincidence that Felix is with her when it happens. They’re hanging out in her office at the Daily Planet - Felix is there on supposed MLD chief business (clearly, since he brought her coffee and a bagel) - and it just... opens. So casually, so deliberately.

Camille feels immobilized.

“Hey,” Felix’s voice stirs her, gentler than the tone he usually uses, shattering the heavy silence that’s fallen between them. “You should -- uh, do something. Before it closes. You do want to go back, right?”

Does she?

She looks up at him, feeling that odd pain in her chest again. It doesn’t matter what she wants. She should. 

It’s just that she only just now realized that she’s closer to Felix than she’s let herself get to anyone in a very long time.

So it’s a selfish question, admittedly, when she asks, “Do you still want to come?”  And she regrets it a heartbeat later. Stupid thing to ask. Terrible position to put him in. He has a job here, an important one, he’s the only person in who’s been in charge of the MLD in the past three years that’s given a damn about it being halfway decent, and what would happen if he just suddenly disappeared?

For her sake. For her world. Where mothers turn their children into monsters.

“...Well, I’ve never been one to pass up an opportunity.”

His answer jars her out of her guilty thoughts. She frowns.  “Jesus, Felix, I wasn’t thinking about the MLD. Your job. Everything you have here.”

She thinks she can see conflict brewing in Felix’s eyes. Even still, he doesn’t really hesitate. “Good things don’t last forever, y’know?”  

What does that mean?

He shrugs, seemingly answering her unspoken question as he continues, “One of these days, my rift’s gonna come to take me back. And it might not be like this. I might not get a warning.”

It’s a fair point, Camille supposes. If everyone got a warning, if everyone got a choice -- she supposes this would probably be a very different world. Still, she can’t stop feeling like her proposition is selfish. “But --”

“Camille. If it’s a choice between biding my time and waiting for something I can’t control and choosing to go with you, I...”  He furrows his brow, seeming to trip uncharacteristically over his words.  “...I mean. Your world has a police force too, right?”

Camille lets out a small hiccup of laughter. “Yeah, but. I’m pretty sure you don’t wanna work in Wind Gap.”

“Then I won’t work in Wind Gap.” Felix shrugs.  “I’ll check out whatever big city you’re working in, or... I dunno. Guess I could go just about anywhere.”

Maybe it’s dreaming big, but Camille thinks of all the possibilities Felix would have in front of him, and she likes to think it would help him. That maybe he really could be a better person. That they both could.

Besides, she likes the idea of a world where she doesn’t have to say goodbye to him.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she jokes a bit weakly, steeling herself up to face the rift again.

Felix only winks at her.  “...So how does this work, do you think? Should we like, hold hands, or...”

She rolls her eyes and grabs his, suddenly instilled with newfound courage (or maybe it’s just recklessness), and steps through the rift back home.

**

They do get out of Wind Gap as quickly as possible, much to Camille’s relief. She doesn’t want to risk the townspeople asking questions about Felix, or worse, what they might tell him in return.

They do run into Jackie before they go, just briefly. She’s... well, she’s Jackie. She makes an inappropriate joke or two and playfully pinches Felix’s cheeks, telling him he’d better not fuck with ‘her girl’. It’s embarrassing as hell, but Camille finds that despite every complication that now exists in hers and Jackie’s relationship, it’s also one thing she missed.

Maybe, she thinks, maybe people do forgive. Maybe sometimes they even move on.

“So...” Felix smirks as he hops into the passengers seat of Camille’s convertible. “She your wacky vodka aunt, or something?”

Camille rolls her eyes as she turns the ignition. “Something like that.”

“I’m kidding. She seemed cool. Totally batshit, but cool. I think she even liked me.”

“A little too much,” Camille puts in as Felix laughs.

It’s an almost four hour drive to St. Louis from Wind Gap, so she figures they’d better settle in, maybe put on some music to pass the time. But when she opens her mouth to make the suggestion, she finds herself saying instead,  “Jackie’s the only person in that town who was ever nice to me. Or, well. Kind, I guess I mean. A lot of people in Wind Gap do ‘nice’, but they never really mean it.”

It’s strange. She guesses she’s going to have to keep reminding herself for a while that now she has someone to talk to.

“Well, maybe someday we can sit down and actually have dinner with her, or something.” Felix pauses, and Camille sees him make a face out of the corner of her eye. “If you think I’d actually survive that.”

She laughs, inexplicably touched, maybe that Felix would risk having dinner with someone just because Camille said they were important to her.  “Maybe.” She pauses. “I don’t really have a lot of people to introduce you to other than that. It’s really just... Curry and his wife, back in the city.”

Her mother is, of course, out of the question, and Amma... well, that just seems impossibly complicated.

(Is another maybe someday too optimistic? Probably.)

Felix, to her surprise, flashes her a smile that almost looks sad. “It wouldn’t be that different if we were in my world. I mean, I didn’t... really have a lot of people left either.”

Her heart sinks a little at the thought. Like her, Camille knows that Felix is used to being on his own. But she also knows - from experience - that sometimes being used to it doesn’t really matter.

Least we have each other now is what she wants to say, but she worries it’d be too cheesy. Instead, she settles for a simple, “I’m glad you’re here, Felix.”

He seems to get what she means anyway. Like usual, she doesn’t really have to explain herself to him. And there’s something a little easier about his smile when he answers, “Yeah? Me too.”

Camille reaches for her music, and finds that it isn’t even all that tempting to get lost in old memories, this time.

[popliar]

junghope fic links

disclaimer - this is all a bit random, I bookmark so many things and sometimes I don’t remember what I actually thought about them… But they are all readable and worth a click imo.

other posts: fic links

Something About You - poltaeroid Hoseok/Jungkook. "Jungkook likes things that shine. Hoseok is definitely one of those things." sweet college au. 5900 words.

for you i would cross the line - starbrigid Hoseok/Jungkook. "'I've had a crush on you since before we debuted, but I've only just realized I'm in love with you.' The one and only J-Hope has acquired a secret admirer in BTS. He's in London, and it's time to play Sherlock Holmes. ...It goes about as well as one might expect." I thought the characterisation was all really good except for the sex scene which was too hard stan for me lol, but ymmv. 9600 words.

Two, Then Two - bambambams (phanjessmagoria)  Hoseok/Jungkook, Jimin/Seokjin, Hoseok/Jungkook/Jimin/Seokjin. "“It’s not anything against you—” Jungkook said, tone flat. “Except it is, though?” Hoseok replied, and he could tell his voice was still edging on angry instead of how he really felt, which was hurt. “You want to try swinging.” “Ok, don’t call it swinging? It makes you sound like a 45-year-old married white guy.” “Well that’s what it is.” “That’s what it is, but just don’t call it that.” (That's exactly what it is. And it's exactly what happens.)"  the focus is junghope. 15,500 words.

petals and thorns - ffairyy  Hoseok/Jungkook. "Jungkook shares a tiny apartment with his best friend and muse Hoseok. But Jungkook also has to share his muse with another artist." Hobi and Tae are fuckbuddies and JK is jealous. 6600 words.

twitter au Hoseok/Jungkook. "hopekook/junghope au where jungkook freaks out about hoseok all the time and the rest of bangtan is just there to watch him crash and burn"

your favourite worst nightmare - deuxoiseaux Hoseok/Jungkook. ""Hey," [Jungkook] says, in as comforting a voice as he can muster. He's a bit raspy from groaning and screaming all day, but he makes an attempt, at least. "Hey, it's okay. You lost your friends? Did you get separated?" ... The man nods miserably. or the one where jungkook works as a zombie in a haunted house at an amusement park and accidentally scares the pants off hoseok" 4700 words in 3 chapters but appears to be updating every now and then.

at least i got you in my head - ameliabedelias Hoseok/Jungkook. "But that was Hoseok for you. The living embodiment of Really Cool Hyung. The one person who did everything with ease and put everyone around him at ease. In other words, the perfect person to practice kissing with. //  (Or, Jeongguk asks Hoseok for kissing lessons and It's All Downhill From There.)" perfect. 8700 words.

grand pianos crash together - pearl_o Hoseok/Jungkook. "The search results for "how to romantic" aren't very helpful, but Hoseok's gonna do his best anyway." Very very sweet. 5000 words.

Born to Run and Built to Last - theskipper Hoseok/Jungkook. "The best way to get over his crush on Hoseok would be to befriend him. Sure, they were friendly, but that was different from being a friend. He was friends with Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung, and he didn’t want to pin them against the wall and lick a line down their chest." JK has been in love with dance trainer Hobi since he was a trainee. 29,700 words.

a hopeful kind of dance - ffairyy Hoseok/Jungkook. "When Jungkook joins the dance studio, Hoseok takes him under his wing the way he does with everyone who's new." 4500 words.

drip drop - momentsinlove Hoseok/Jungkook. "“So um. What did you mean the other night when you said Hoseok would love an alpha like me?” Jimin looks up from stretching, a wicked grin slowly appearing on his face and Jungkook knows this won’t end well. “Let’s just say he likes his alphas a little more docile. Obedient.” Jungkook wants to protest that no, he’s not like that, but then he thinks about his own jerk off fantasies and he knows he’d only be lying to Jimin and himself. He likes the idea of being told what to do, he likes he thought of focusing his efforts on pleasing his partner. He wants to be good, god he wants to take care of his omega in every way possible. or alpha jungkook wants to be babied a little and omega hobi is more than happy to do that." 7500 words.

not a booty call - ffairyy Hoseok/Jungkook. "They’re still themselves, still friends, still all those things they need to be during the day.Right now, they're also a little in love." 3700 words.

your love is bright as ever - brightlight Hoseok/Jungkook. "It shouldn’t be a big deal. So Jungkook’s family didn’t seem particularly crazy about him — is that the end of the world? (Maybe, his brain supplies traitorously.) ++  Hoseok gets worried, Jungkook eases his mind, and Hoseok decides to put his energy into more important things (namely, using some of the first free time he's had in weeks to kiss his boyfriend instead of overthinking.)" sweet. 5300 words.

touch, my love. touch my heart. - jellyfishes Hoseok/Jungkook. "Hi guys,” Hoseok says, voice loud in Jeongguk’s left ear as he whispers into the microphone. “It’s me, your hope.” The voice is in his right ear this time. Jeongguk’s toes curl as his scalp tingles pleasantly." hobi does ASMR. 9000 words.

You're Beautiful And Sick, Like Me - nunu_noodles  Hoseok/Jungkook. "He closes his eyes tight and tries not to think of the desperate man locked in that little room with his dark, dark eyes. Hoseok hugs Jimin close and makes a wish hinging on years of fear that this was going to be goodbye. Love me. Stay with me forever. Love me. His Revelation is too new, roaring in his blood like a flash flood, pounding in his ears. The sensations are too new - he thinks his newly made wall is safe and secure. He doesn’t understand what it is when his body obeys his wish and pours it down into Jimin, doing all it can to make the wish come true." really liked the way each person manifested powers and the slowburn pine from Jungkook. the sequel has hoseok/jungkook/jimin. it’s got a distinctly dark edge to the worldbuilding and some choices the characters make, if you’re into that then this is ambitious and great. 51,600 words.

on the edge - mysoulrunswithwolves   Hoseok/Jungkook. "Hoseok is the reigning US wakeboarding champion, unrivaled in the sport. Jeongguk is his biggest competitor, if only Hoseok had any idea who he was" 15,000 words.

In Fear and Faith - im_your_hope Hoseok/Jungkook. "It's hard to shake something that is already under your skin." showers and bed sharing. 4800 words.

From The Moment The Lights Went Out - myadamantiumheart Hoseok/Jungkook. "The wolf comes to his door at night, and Jungkook always lets him in. He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t. But he always opens the door- the balcony door, where Hoseok appears with his grin glowing in the moonlight, like the Cheshire Cat leading Alice further into the forest. Jungkook wonders if Hoseok really likes him, or whether he just likes the fact that Jungkook will let him in, feed him, and then let him fuck Jungkook into the mattress." Trans JK. Hobi is secretly a vigilante. 9100 words.

spring and, by summer, fall - bizzanus Hoseok/Jungkook. "The new tightrope apprentice looks at Hoseok like he's made of stars." very good circus au. 28,100 words.

Like Snow, Like White Ashes - ashardoffreedom Hoseok/Jungkook. "“I’m not sure if there’s an easy fix.” Do you want me to help you fix it? Jungkook looks up at the ceiling. It’s very white. It’s very pure. “Hyung, maybe you’re not supposed to.”" jk comes to terms with being asexual. 4500 words.

of white lies and autumn leaves - ffairyy Jungkook/Hoseok. "“Fuck that,” Jungkook slurs. “I’m not less grown up just because I haven’t had a relationship yet. Right Hyung? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make me uncool.” or the pretend dating fic where the boys make fun of Jungkook for being inexperienced and Hoseok jumps to his defense" VERY SWEET 34,000 words.

Perfect Ten - bugarungus Hoseok/Jungkook. "If Jeongguk can bowl a perfect game, he wins twice." Cute! 2500 words.

Wake - AlixSkyeDawg Taehyung/Seokjin, Namjoon/Jimin, Jungkook/Hoseok. "Hoseok was close, close enough for Jungkook to admire the shape of his face, the smoothness of his skin, the thick fringe of lashes along his cheeks, his lips, slightly parted and far too inviting. Before he could think about it too much, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Hoseok’s." island holiday soap opera! 72,100 words.

It's Time to Love You - eightninetwo   Hoseok/Jungkook. "Hoseok's fine with his life, all things considered. What he's not fine with, is the reappearance of that one almost-boyfriend who certainly looks More Than Fine right now." oh no he's hot. 7300 words.

i'm smiling, he's living, he's golden - Chlexcer Hoseok/Jungkook. "They are the base of a mountain. A fucking mountain. Now, Hoseok enjoys nature. He likes parks and he loves the beach; he likes playing on the snow, and he loves flowers. But mountains? Not his cup of tea, exactly. (Throw Jungkook into the mix, and it's a whole different story.)" 5400 words.

share my life (it's yours to keep) - momentsinlove Jungkook/Hoseok. ""You know, maybe we should just get married," Hoseok says. Jungkook nearly chokes on his water that he's got to his lips and in his his haste to put it down he bangs his knee on the underside of the table. When he looks at Hoseok with wide eyes, Hoseok is staring with a smirk on his face, chin propped up in his hand. Jungkook realizes that Hoseok is joking of course, no one in their right mind is going to marry someone after two hook ups (even ones that were mind numbingly good) and one date. Except when Jungkook sort of thinks about it, the idea of marrying someone, anyone, has his heart skipping a beat or the ridiculously long fic where Hoseok and Jungkook fuck a lot and are super romantic. All they wanna do is get married." conflict free but very readable. 13,700 words.

One in a Million - momentsinlove   Hoseok/Jungkook. "In fact it's nice when Jungkook ends up in Hoseok's bed. Hoseok won't say he gets lonely easily but it's been tough ever since Jimin officially moved out. They'd sometimes just lay in each's other bed, watching a movie or talk about their day and Hoseok misses that. Jungkook does a good job of filling in when he stays over, always ready for a good cuddle session and he's so fucking clingy but Hoseok loves it, adores the way Jungkook clings to him like a koala. It's not even sexual either. They've never fooled around despite their closeness and when Jin asks, Hoseok is honest in saying no, they've never fucked, never even jerked each other off. Jin looks at him like he's lying but it's the truth. Even though he's an alpha and Jungkook's an omega they have never been around each other during their heats and ruts so it's never been something Hoseok has had to think about. or Jungkook shares Hoseok's bed more often than not and realizes that maybe they are meant to be mates" a/b/o. 10,100 words.

the stars are brightly shining - monbon Hoseok/Jungkook, preslash. "Sometimes Christmas doesn't go the way you expected. And sometimes that's alright. or, Hoseok always spends winter break on campus. This time, Jeongguk joins him." 5300 words.

Blanket Kick - nunu_noodles Hoseok/Jungkook. "It takes 2 hours and 40 minutes for the train from Busan to get to Seoul Which means Jeongguk is going to meet his online boyfriend in 2 hours and 40 minutes Time moves both too slowly, and far, far too quickly He checks the time quickly. 15 minutes to go. Holy shit. Holy. Shit." 34,700 words.

where the light can't reach - undercoverjikooks Hoseok/Jungkook. "Sometimes he would cry for no reason on his bed at two in the morning because his heart felt empty in certain corners, like the light of all of the good things in his life couldn’t reach quite far enough to fill those dark places. or, alternatively, Hoseok is scared of contentment." Hoseok stays at Jungkook's b&b, and they fall in love. 9600 words.

One Fear - Jajungmyeon Jungkook/Hoseok. "Good-looking men did not scare Jeongguk. They... overwhelmed him... with their daring beauty. They brought out the boy in Jeongguk. And Jeongguk was not a boy. He was a man who had a job and paid taxes. He was a whole grown up. Well, not as grown up as Yoongi who could clean his bathroom without dry-heaving once (but that was because he was on a completely different level, a grownup- old man edition). Jeongguk had not made it through college and student loans and paychecks to regress to boyhood simply because a gorgeous male looked his way." very readable tho i mean there's some workplace bullying. 4300 words.

i never felt nothing like that, looking at you looking right back - jellyfishes   Hoseok/Jungkook. "“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t look good on you. Jeonggukie is an innocent baby.” Hoseok’s smile widens. Jimin jabs a finger into his chest. “You stay away from him, hyung.” “He’s so cute, though,” Hoseok whines, and he’s grinning now. “Jimin, you know I can’t resist it when they’re cute.” or, hoseok likes cute boys, and jeongguk is very cute. jimin probably never should have introduced them." cute. 9300 words.

you got me catching feelings - momentsinlove Jungkook/Hoseok. "Jungkook and Hoseok decide to hook up as just bros until they start to catch feelings." soft and porny. 10,000 words.

blue flame special - nonheather   Hoseok/Jungkook. "hoseok just got dumped and now a clearly under aged bartender is refusing to serve him a much needed round of shots. ("can you do this teenage angst thing some other time? my ex just walked in with his new boyfriend and i could really use some liquid cowardice." the kid narrows his eyes in the direction hoseok had nodded toward. "seokjin hyung's your ex?") hoseok nods. "you know him?" "yeah," jeongguk glares at hoseok and begins stepping away, definitely refusing to serve him any drink at all. "he dumped me for you.")" this is a melodrama with all the ups and downs and twists and turns, but it's riveting and addictive in that way too. cw for jin's past (abuse). 106,300 words.

Serendipity - redhowler Hoseok/Jungkook. "Hoseok is an architect with an eye for art and Jungkook has a masterpiece painted on his back." 8000 words.

a hold on me - CaptainButts Jungkook/Hoseok. "hoseok moves into a new neighborhood, meets his questionable neighbors, and rekindles an old love." 13,000 words.

pas de deux - peachtae   Jungkook/Hoseok. "dancing with jungkook has always come naturally to hoseok." from childhood to old age. 7700 words.

Tryna Count Me Out - freelancejouster   Jungkook/Hoseok. "Who even does that? Just — just goes around kissing random strangers? And okay, maybe it was to save him from looking like a fool in front of an entire stadium of people, and maybe he liked it a little bit too much, but was Hoseok going to admit that? Not likely.(Aka Hoseok gets kissed by a cute stranger on the kiss cam and can’t get the memory of vanilla Chapstick and soft lips out of his mind.)" 5000 words.

there's a galaxy between you and me - venenumm Hoseok/Jungkook. "Jung Hoseok, best ship pilot in Seoul, hell, in Korea. Together with his exceptional crew, they travel the stars, gathering and delivering goods for clients. But they always return home, always back to Seoul. And Jung Hoseok's fate drops into his lap in Seoul, aptly named Jeon Jungkook. or space pilot jung hoseok meets android jeon jungkook and things happen." 5700 words.

tryna act nice (boy your cover's blown) - blvesey Hoseok/Jungkook. "jeongguk smells like a whore, but he isn't one. hoseok looks like an asshole, and he absolutely is. but he's nothing if not a good sportsman, and so he's always willing to reward effort." street racing au. 6400 words.

Mountain Dew Me? - ecrivantkazl Hoseok/Jungkook. "“Pop my cherry?” No hello, no customer service smile, not even a what can I get you? His tone is even, eyes wide and growing wider, and he is about two seconds from swallowing his whole entire body head first. He should have stayed in bed this morning. "Pardon...me?"" bartender au. 4600 words.

The Moment I Met You - lonelyonion Hoseok/Jungkook. "Jungkook has a newfound fascination with the idea of marriage, but it seems like his boyfriend of six years, Jung Hoseok, does not share in his fascination. Or, Jungkook kinda wants to be a married man, but somehow things are going a little differently than he'd hoped." 4700 words.

Call Me Baby - MarionetteFtHJM Hoseok/Jungkook. "Jungkook was a badass dude. He was a leather-wearing, motorcycle-riding, no-nonsense-attitude dude. There was absolutely no reason for him to be acting like a damn blushing virgin. Especially around Jung Hoseok, the dude of his dreams- not that he’d ever tell him that, no sir-e." 3200 words.

stitch me up (you're so pretty) - jjks   Jungkook/Hoseok. "“Embroidery,” Jeongguk repeats. “I’m gonna join an embroidery class,” his voice trails off a little at the end, losing some of its vigor and quieting down when he realises it’s stupid. So stupid. Even stupider when spoken out loud." 10,200 words.

A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing - blimpish   Jungkook/Hoseok. "When Jeongguk decides it's time to live out his fantasy of being knotted, he determines that Hoseok is the best (read: least awful) candidate for the job." a/b/o and dancer au. does interesting things with the trope. also, hot. 35,000 words.

Gotta Hand It to You - freelancejouster   Hoseok/Jungkook. "Hoseok was trying to think of living by himself as an adventure, a new experience, something to look forward too. He hadn't thought it'd be like this." maknae line are neighbours. Hoseok has a crush. 19,000 words.

F is for Figure It Out, Kiddo - exfatamorgana   Jungkook/Hoseok. “Crying and Pining and Growing the Fuck Up: A Life-story in Stages” childhood friends who eventually become something more in late 20s. 10,400 words.

to the places you will be from - krisssy   Jungkook/Hoseok. "jungkook accidentally adds hoseok on snapchat" Cute. 4300 words.

The First and, Hopefully, the Last - wingedseok Jungkook/Hoseok. "Hoseok is seventeen years old, has known Jeongguk ever since the bunny-looking kid was born, and he has never been kissed. Luckily, his dongsaeng knows exactly what to do." 2000 words.

DOES/DOES NOT - Jajungmyeon   Jungkook/Hoseok. "Jeongguk thinks Hoseok likes him. Hoseok thinks Jeongguk does not like him. They are both wrong and get yelled at by Yoongi." fun story about 'does hyung really like me or is it just his normal skinship.' if you roll with the jk characterisation, this is so fun, 20,000 words.

Bloodflows - mnsg   Hoseok/Jungkook. "Sharing a bath at 3AM with all 178cm of Jeon Jeongguk is at least one of Hoseok's ideas of torture." 2200 words.

On My Life (I Swear) - Sevensoulmates  Hoseok/Jungkook. "Hoseok had no idea what he got himself into when he befriended a random stranger that day on the street. He hadn't thought anything of it, even though it kind of was a bit of an unusal circumstance. Still, how was he to know that the boy was the President's Son, the most hidden and protected person in all of the country? Not until the day he walks into his new job as a bodyguard and gets chained to the boy himself does he realize that things are about to get a little fucked up." a big long soapy bodyguard AU. 113,100 words.

bone + tissue - minsfw Jungkook/Hoseok. "jungkook is a student of photography; hoseok has really soft lips." This is good. 10,400 words.

Dance With Me, Hyung - TheHalesNyx   Jungkook/Hoseok. "Kook convinces Hobi to take him along when he goes out dancing one night. Must include: "Are you drunk?"" 11,400 words.

eventually - yoogni Jungkook/Hoseok. "jeongguk turns his head to see someone who is almost definitely the most attractive person he's ever seen. his hair is soft, his eyes are bright, and his smile is somehow heart-shaped. not to get ahead of himself, but jeongguk is very possibly in love." Jungkook is really really shy. 5500 words

one shot (is all i need) - kaythebest Jungkook/Hoseok. "Jungkook wants to be a bartender. If he wants anything else, well, that's just a bonus." 6300 words.

these spaces between infinities - astringxnt Jungkook/Hoseok. "because the truth is that we're always finding sanctuary in unfamiliar places, trying to caress warmth into fires." Fwb, Jk takes Hoseok home for the holidays. 9000 words.

come across the kitchen to me - Acavall Jungkook/Hoseok. "Jungkook is jealous. Jungkook has no right to be jealous. Jungkook is an idiot. In which Jungkook and Hoseok are roommates and Jungkook wishes they were more." 3000 words.

bored stiff (out of my brains) - loafers Hoseok/Jungkook. "Jungkook gets bored. The devil finds work for idle hands." PWP. 3800 words.

another life - Acavall Hoseok/Jungkook. "Jungkook and Hoseok talk alternate realities amidst fake kitchens. JungHope fluff from the day they went to Ikea in Sweden and then nearly got arrested for setting off the fire alarm." sweet. 2700 words.

Fall and Recover - exfatamorgana Jungkook/Hoseok. "Behind closed doors and in foggy mirrors, Jeongguk and Hoseok learn that sometimes, falling together is just as easy as falling apart. And it's so much nicer. i.e. in which they're both dance majors and Hoseok is the TA for Jeongguk's performance workshop." 75,100 words. Also has a sequel, 150,000 words.

all the world's noise - astringxnt Jungkook/Hoseok. "in between late night dance practices and Thursday study dates, Jungkook lets Hoseok teach him that love doesn’t have to be loud to be real." 7400 words.

vagabonds' chaos theory - astringxnt Jungkook/Hoseok. Secret agents au. Hoseok is Jungkook's mentor. 7300 words.

Lionheart - nivo Jeongguk/Hoseok. "The problem is simple, really: Jeongguk is cool, and Hoseok is... Hoseok." Hoseok decides he must bungee jump bc he's insecure about their relationship. This is adorable. 2000 words.

New Romantics - nivo Hoseok/Jeongguk. "Music majors know what romance is all about. (Jeon Jeongguk is not a music major. Neither is Jung Hoseok.)"  2800 words.

threesomes

2/2/3 - cobbleles Hoseok/Namjoon/Jungkook. "There is plenty of fish in the sea, two and two and three. Or: Hoseok wants to see other people and Namjoon agrees. Prompt - Secret Relationship." they're in an open relationship and both are dating jk, all three are dumb. 9900 words.

namkookhope au  Namjoon/Hoseok/Jungkook. "NAMKOOKHOPE AU 💕 jungkook is looking for something casual, he signs up to tinder & meets namjoon. he’s in an open relationship and not looking for anything srs. so it’s fine if he starts sleeping w his dance teacher jhope too, right? what could go wrong?"

playing for your heart - umji   Jungkook/Hoseok/Seokjin. "Jungkook should have known something was up from the way they were acting, they had been unusually quiet all night, sharing looks across the room when they thought he was caught up in his game. He didn’t quite know what he was expecting them to say - maybe they were going to elope? That seemed like something the pair of them would do - but he was certainly not expecting them to tell him they had signed him up for a dating game show."  17,100 words.

Harmless - Untested_Waters Hoseok/Jungkook/Taehyung. "Jungkook is fine, really. He doesn’t need Taehyung and Hoseok’s help. Except for the fact that he is absolutely not fine and really, really needs Taehyung and Hoseok’s help." Porn. 11,000 words.

Gushing Gold - syubology Hoseok/Taehyung/Jungkook. "Hoseok watches them, can see them through the opaque material, Taehyung's fingers tracing over the dark lines and swirls inked into Jungkook’s skin. His own hand resting where it fell onto the youngest's thigh doesn’t feel so chill all of a sudden when he takes a moment to think about where they are, what they’re doing, how it would look to an outsider: the three of them snuggled close, tangled limbs and heavy eyes and fingers sneaking under clothes. He tries not to think like that too often – how it looks, how it feels, how easy it’d be to poke at the boundaries, to be just as curious and daring as Kim Taehyung’s stunning fingers – but there’s something different in the air tonight." PWP. 19,900 words.

We Float - Icicles Hoseok/Jungkook/Yoongi. "Jungkook’s gaze on them is searing. She can feel his dick growing harder against the side of her thigh as he watches them. It’s good. It’s all good. It’s a lot. Just like a good distraction should be. OR Jungkook and Hoseok get sad watching Titanic. Yoonji is always a little sad these days. They try to find comfort together." 5900 words.

An Experiment in Threesomes - Only_A_Fangirl   Hoseok/Jungkook/Yoongi. "Still. What does he have to lose? He’ll just tell them about his problem, like a proper dongsaeng to his hyungs, and maybe they’ll have a solution. And maybe that solution will be to have sex with him. Probably not. But maybe. So, he won’t just say ‘I want you to take my virginity’, he’ll just hope that they offer. He might also lose just a little bit of his dignity, but not much, because he’s sure they won’t make fun of him. Or, the tale of Jeongguk's virginity loss to Hoseok and Yoongi." it does have an open ending - but it's pretty great. 37,600 words.

and i'll smile upon you too - pearl_o   Hoseok/Yoongi/Jungkook. ""what is going on right now?" yoongi says, still staring at hoseok. "i'm trying to communicate with you! like adults!" hoseok says. "you're doing a really bad job," says yoongi. "how did you picture this conversation going?" hoseok slumps until he's half lying down, letting his legs hanging over the edge of the mattress. "i was gonna tell you that i love you and that i want you to be happy and that i could be happy even if it meant...you know. sharing."" sweet! 5900 words.

Finer Than The Fine Arts - anonymousloris   Hoseok/Yoongi/Jungkook. "Regardless, Hoseok and Yoongi had been best friends since they started college, and potentially for many years to come. If anything, it should be fun to have a blow off class together their senior year. Just one little fine arts class to graduate. An easy-peasy Photography 101. No heavy clouds on the sunny, blue horizon. That was, until they turned the corner and stepped into the classroom, their eyes landing on a tall, dark, and very handsome looking freshman sitting in the front row. They looked at each other and in unison said, "Dibs."" 9200 words.

put my favourite record on - umji   Yoongi/Hoseok/Jungkook. "Yoongi never should have mentioned (admittedly he was drunk at the time so it was less in casual conversation and more of a secret confession that he’d whispered to Hoseok whilst he had been sat under the kitchen table) that he had a weakness for cute boys and great singing voices and cute boys with great singing voices." 7400 words.

Untraditional - TheHalesNyx Yoongi/Hoseok/Jungkook. "they're in this rare kind of alpha/beta/omega relationship but it's still super cute. Their different personalities work together perfectly but then omega Kookie's heat hits for the first time, since he didn't use suppressants for the first time." Yoongi and Hoseok are alphas, Jungkook is an omega. 14,100 words.

[mayor-crumblepot]

for the song thing, right on track by the griswolds + nygmobblepot?

this song gave me a really good hype vibe (despite perhaps the lyrics not being quite the same) so i just kinda Rode That Wave and i’m sorry if it wasn’t what you were expecting. 

nondescript young adults au, filled with a crushing sense of self-insecurity and maybe a problem with drinking. definitely a problem with drinking. what kind of Blitz Fic would it be if it didn’t include budding alcoholism?

Oswald has no idea how this has become a routine. Routines are things like haircuts, like the route he takes to work, like the meal schedule he’s been trying to stick to; it’s not waking up next to the same person after every party he goes to. 

He doesn’t even know their name. 

It never seems like they’ve done much of anything. At worst, one of them has done away with their shirts and Oswald’s makeup is smeared, but aside from the headache he always has, things never seem wrong. That just leaves Oswald confused, because he’s spent his entire life afraid, mortified of what kind of mistakes he could make if he weren’t paying attention— and here he is, just fine. 

Every time, he tells himself it’s the last time. As he stumbles away, through the halls of a house he doesn’t know, he promises himself that he’s just going to start getting drunk in his apartment like every other pathetic freak his age. But then Barbara invites him out, and he looks back at the bottle of wine he’s been letting breathe on his counter; it reminds him how little he wants to be alone, reminds him of his dwindling youth and how few people he really knows. 

This is the third time this month. It’s a weekly thing— parties on Friday nights, wake up midday Saturday, nurse a hangover until his Saturday night shift, tell himself it will never happen again, and then start all over again next Friday night. 

(Is it a routine, now? Fuck.)

Usually, the other person is still asleep when Oswald wakes up. It’s all a side effect of his natural internal clock, pushing him out of sleep before noon every single day. It gives Oswald the chance to look at the other person, to consider glasses on the bedside, to wonder just what kind of person wears slacks and a sweater to a house party. Sometimes, next to the glasses, there’s a wallet on the nightstand, and Oswald has to remind himself that it’s an invasion of privacy to leaf through it— this leaves him clueless. 

Glasses and a sweater is awake before Oswald, this time. Except the sweater is distinctly missing, and somewhere in Oswald’s foggy mind, he remembers it being lost downstairs, outside— maybe the pool? Christ, did they get in the pool?

His clothes feel dry. Maybe they didn’t. 

The other person is talking. Quietly, albeit, but they’re talking and Oswald is fairly certain it isn’t that obvious he’s awake yet. There’s a clock on the wall, one that Oswald can barely see from his place on the bed— it’s clear enough to him, in addition to the faint sunlight coming through shitty blinds, that it’s too fucking early. They couldn’t have gone to sleep more than a few hours ago, if that. 

“Go back to sleep,” Oswald says, horrified by the state of his own voice, “neither of us are sober yet.” 

“I—” When the other person looks back at Oswald, it’s charming how they can’t decide where they want their eyes to settle, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“You can make up for it by lying back down,” he gestures vaguely at the bed, but gives up halfway through because his arms feel like they’re full of water, “just looking at you sitting up is giving me the spins.” 

“Sorry,” but they do lie down, quickly putting a hand on their forehead and rubbing at their temples. Oswald drops a hand over their waist and falls back asleep before he can even think about what he should do with the rest of his limbs. 

The worst thing Oswald has ever done is offer to work the morning shift. Evenings at the cafe are much calmer, much more food orders than coffee. Oswald has never been particularly good at making coffee. The end product is fine, it’s acceptable, but his hands pay the price and end up scalded. It does nothing to improve his mood, either. 

He comes into a shift in the middle of a rush, getting tagged onto a cash register without as much as a greeting. People disappear from the front end while the stream of customers is never-ending, and Oswald finds himself making drinks as another team member screams them at him. Awful. It’s just fucking awful. 

“I have a quad for—” there are two cups in Oswald’s hands, one unfinished and the other completed, and he ends up putting both down on the counter, “Edward!” He turns back around, rinsing cups and tumblers, unable to find the unfinished drink he’d set down. 

“Excuse me,” the voice is coming from the pickup counter, and Oswald almost wants to tell the person to fuck off, because he’s missing a drink, “you left something here.” 

Where Oswald turns back for a half-finished slowly melting frozen drink, he ends up face to face with his weekend bedmate. The alarms in his brain scream stalker until his eyes register just how much panic is written across this person’s face— across Edward’s face. “Hey, you,” he says, making an attempt at charm despite the splatter across his apron and the slowly growing burns on his hands. Edward lasts for less than ten seconds, before he bolts from the cafe as though he’s been threatened. 

That’s that.

“What if I scared him off?” Edward asks, speaking to his roommate who couldn’t possibly care less, “What if he thinks I’m stalking him?”

“You did, kind of,” the roommate, Jonathan, doesn’t bother taking his eyes away from his live feed of his lab rats, “stalk him, I mean.”

“I didn’t! I looked at his ID once,” he defends, voice screechy. “He hasn’t been to any of the parties his friend has been at,” dramatically, Edward drops into their couch and groans, “he’s hiding from me.”

“He doesn’t know you from Adam’s housecat,” the rats run around on a wheel, and Jonathan scribbles something down quickly, “he can’t hide from you if he doesn’t know you. Maybe he’s sick.”

“He probably thinks I’m a creep.” Edward nears inconsolability, and while this doesn’t bother Jonathan, it makes him wonder. It confuses him, confounds him, even, how someone could get so attached while not even knowing a single thing about them. 

“You know when he works,” Jonathan says, finally turning around in his chair, “you could just go see him, or something. Apologize for running off.” 

“What if he doesn’t like me?” There’s a look that Jonathan gives Edward, one of clear unawareness, “We’ve never— we’re always— What if he doesn’t like me when we’re not drunk?”

“Ain’t sure why you’d wanna be around him at all, then.” 

When his manager finally gives him back his evening shifts, Oswald is elated. He takes back his normal sleep schedule, the blisters on his hands start to finally heal, and he can follow Barbara to parties once again. The entire spectacle with Edward at the cafe has migrated to the back of his mind, as if it were nothing but a mysterious dream that he provided himself. Sometimes, that’s what Oswald elects to believe— to think that he’s so different by the light of day, that without the drunken slur on his voice he doesn’t sound as inviting, that’s more difficult. 

So, he follows Barbara into someone else’s party, pounds a few shots, and finds a comfortable place for himself by the stairwell. He pretends that he can’t smell the weed people are smoking on the back porch, and he tries to manage his expression of distaste when he takes sips of his lukewarm wine cooler. 

“We can’t keep meeting like this,” he hears, Edward’s voice coming in before the boy invades his vision. 

“Can’t we?” It’s hard to tell which of them is more intoxicated, but Oswald figures it’s only a matter of time before he becomes too drunk to remember much else. It’s easy to get there, with Edward around. “Can I call you Ed?” 

Edward nods, facial expression somewhere between mortified and overjoyed. What a painful dichotomy. “I’m sorry for running out on you,” he says quickly, having to stand closely to Oswald to be heard, “at your work, I mean. I just—”

“You panicked,” Oswald supplies, shrugging calmly, as if the entire experience didn’t leave him mortified and chain-smoking on his lunch break, “it happens.”

“Very often, to me.” 

“Really?” 

“I—” After a bit of internal deliberation, Edward reaches out and takes one of Oswald’s hands, placing it against the side of his neck, where his pulse is hammering through his veins frantically, “I’m a very nervous person.” He can see it, in his mind’s eye, where Oswald realizes that his confidence was all an act, a front put on by the strength of the alcohol in his system. Instead, Oswald curls his fingers around the back of Edward’s neck and brings him down, kissing his cheek.

“It’s cute,” he says, smiling. The harsh curve of Edward’s smile says you won’t think so for long, you’ll get irritated, and Oswald becomes determined to prove him wrong, “I’m working closing shift, now. It gets real slow, you ought to come visit me.”

“If I’m being completely honest,” there’s a warmth in Edward’s eyes, something pathetically sweet trying to make it’s way out, “the coffee you made me was terrible.” 

Oswald knocks back the rest of his drink, leaving the empty container on the nearest flat surface, “It was full of grounds, wasn’t it? Some woman brought hers back and dumped it on the counter,” just the sound of Oswald laughing makes Edward laugh, too, “just to make a point. The nerve of some people.” 

It’s hard for Edward to grapple with, the concept that Oswald is enjoying a conversation with him, one where both of them are sober enough to keep upright on their own. He had planned for most possible outcomes, but this one just seemed so unlikely that he’d avoided it altogether; not to get his hopes up. Yet, here he is, painfully close and only getting closer— it doesn’t even seem like Oswald wants him to go anywhere. 

That’s nice. 

When they wake up the next morning, Oswald can’t remember much of what happened after his third wine cooler. In addition to the shots and whatever Barbara’s girlfriend du jour brought with her when she arrived, Oswald can’t even wager a guess at what he’s had to drink in the last twelve hours. 

The midday sun upsets his eyes, and he quickly hides his face in the curve of Edward’s neck. Edward. He’s still there, that’s good. 

“Did you know you snore?” Edward asks, hesitantly running his fingers along the curve of Oswald’s back. “It’s surprisingly charming.” 

“Did you know you twitch in your sleep?” Oswald bites back, dropping his arm heavily over Edward’s chest, “It’s not that charming. That’s alright, though, because you’re handsome.” 

Edward snorts, looking up at the ceiling vacantly. Without his glasses, there’s not much for him to see, and staring at Oswald seems like it might be rude. 

“Is it too late to get breakfast?” With a painful series of sounds from his protesting bones, Oswald sits upright and fishes around the side table for his phone. 

“Definitely too late for breakfast,” Edward makes an effort to try and calculate the time of day from the angle of the sunlight coming in the window, but it ultimately becomes far more difficult than it’s worth, “It’s never too late to get pancakes somewhere, though.” 

“Did you drive?” When Edward nods, gesturing vaguely at where his keys are, next to his wallet, Oswald reaches for his backpack. “We can call this a first date, if you want.” 

The words settle into Edward’s skin, searing themselves into his soft underbelly and making their way up to his heart, “I’d like that.” 

[the-uptake]

An Unknown Sustenance

The Uptake, The Sarpashana Solution. Book IV, Chapter 1(?)

I’m all over the place. Grunt.

Several figures, clad in white suiting with tailored clean silhouettes, collected near the observation window of their research facility. Some looked on in anticipation, some in boredom. One could not help but pace.

"Sit still, Tis'a."

"I can't. This doesn't matter."

"They already know there's more of them than themselves," the first continued. "It is an inevitable development."

"Let them eat together," a third commented, near the back of them, only vaguely attentive. "We've already seen they form social bonds within their sectors. It's plausible that even at a sector level they will play nice with one another."

"They might even encourage one another to branch out where they've been averse to it prior." A fourth weighed in, agitated. "Where's all the contention coming from, Tis'a?"

"It's taken us so long just to get this far. I'm having reservations about the risks here."

"We've determined a reliable pattern of repeatability." The fifth of them snorted at Tis'a. "If there's a problem, we will simply replace the subjects."

"There's no replacing one of them." The second grunted, seeming to understand Tis'a's agitation. "The zero patient still exhibits mutations and adaptability the others have not. We established the sectors for a reason."

"And ideally, bringing them all together socially will help coax them in the right direction." The fourth pointed out into what had once been a courtyard, now an organized mess of drums, metals, plastics, and indeterminate debris. "Even if they haven't exhibited adaptive traits yet, I'm still confident they have simply thus far been shy to push their limits."

"Hamsa is right. Perhaps if Sigma and Theta see one another... remediating different substances than one another, they might be more inclined to sampling the other sector's comfort zone."

"I still rather hate that you call it 'eating,' Arba'a," Tis'a mumbled. "It's just... unnatural. I don't understand how any of you can stand to watch."

"You know what you signed up for when you took this position." The fifth radiated the authority of a senior figure, and shepherded them nearer the observation window. "Come on now, the staff will be releasing them in waves any minute now. The Betas first, then the Gammas, and so on. Not at all unlike cafeteria shifts in a high school, except the shifts today overlap."

Tis'a's face curled in displeasure but they said nothing.

____________________

The Beta sector subjects shuffled in through the pocket door to the north end of the rectangular courtyard, oblivious to any change in their daily habits at the complex. The ten of them, arthritic and despondent, sat around a sizable pile of small metal bits and set to rummage through it. Nuts and washers, screws and bolts, tailings, all manner of shapes and functions and alloys. They would put a given piece to their mouths, then decide to pass it to someone else, or swallow it themselves without chewing. It rarely went that a given piece passed hands more than two or three times, and it was common for a recipient to be fed the piece by the one who gifted it. The wefts of a deranged social intimacy shuttled the group together through action and few words.

The Gamma sector entered from the East end, and they descended upon one of the stacks of plastics. They rifled through it for the rubberiest parts, and gorged themselves. Occasionally, one might pick out a piece another of them would enjoy more than they would, and they'd toss it unceremoniously in their direction. Over time, the pile flattened from their scattering methods, though it did not draw attention to themselves, the Betas too absorbed in their saturnine ritual. The twelve Gammas, too, remained oblivious to sharing a space with anyone else.

The Deltas and Epsilons filed in from East and West, and served the catalyst for the encounter. They saw one another upon entry into the yard and stood staring, not going to their delicacy without prompting.

"What gives?" an Epsilon called out. He noticed the other groups already present, along with the one that had arrived along with his own, and pointed at them with incredulity. "They told us there was other groups but they never let us see each other!"

"Yeah, this is weird," a Delta agreed. She walked up to him and looked around with a vague consternation. "It's almost like they had some kind of scheduling flub..."

"What are you starin' at!" another Epsilon hollered, glaring at the Betas. But they hadn't stopped eating just to stare listlessly at the Deltas and Epsilons, but rather had their faces set upon the newest arrivals: the Thetas from the South. The third and fourth groups looked behind them to discover a group of distinctly asymmetrical individuals, who had frozen in place the instant they realized they were not alone.

"--Ignore them," one insisted, struggling with a limp gait to drag the rest to a mound of bottles. "We need to..." They insinuated toward the bottles, which upon closer inspection could be determined to be discarded prescriptions and medical waste. "If we don't now, it'll be hours before the next chance to be still."

Those who heard the Theta nodded silently and all went about their business. Many still eyed one another as they fed. Over the next thirty minutes, six more groups entered, and with each subsequent arrival, each withdrew from one another's line of sight, the shame of their condition outweighing the exigence of absolving their many months of loneliness. What brought them all together only served to further isolate. Somewhere about ninety subjects crowded in the courtyard. For twenty minutes or so, the twelve groups continued on in communal isolation as they bioremediated their respective commodity of waste.

For the most part, everyone tried their best to ignore the mere concept of what the others around then consumed.

The door to the north end produced a single subject the next time it opened, and the figure descended immediately upon the haystack of crusted drums no one else has dared touch. His wiry, naked frame bent at odd angles to facilitate identifying their contents by smell alone. Once he came upon a satisfactory stuff, he put his mouth to the cap and sucked and lapped at it until the fluids within flowed readily down his throat. The sheer quantity of liquid wastes he knocked back got everyone's attention, and soon everyone watched in a mixture of horror and fascination.

The Alpha subject got his fill of drum contents after the third, and moved toward the pile of metal junk, only to realize he wasn't alone. He looked to the plastics pile, the pharmaceuticals, the solar glass... His one-eyed features gnarled up in self-revulsion as he could tell these other figures were also consuming in kind, and he shrank from their sight.

"--You ARE here." The cracked voice of a Theta disinterred himself from the pharmaceuticals. Seemingly unable to stand, he still insisted to close the distance between them. "It took me... way too long to understand... what I'd gotten myself into... They wanted... Wolfrin victims... for the trial... But I couldn't have dreamed you were... still alive..."

The Theta's long, dark, stringy hair obscured his face as he lay at the Alpha's feet, and he parted it to stare longingly up at him with cataracted, oleous eyes.

"Dunno if you remember me, but I could never forget you." The dreg smiled in a warm delirium, complacent to how dragging his body along the ground had contorted his tank top to expose a nipple through its neckline. "...Supposing I did get my wish, after all, to become like you, Galen."

The remark shot through Galen to the marrow, and he couldn’t still his shaking rage and confusion and hurt. Before he knew it, he’d smashed his bare heel down on the Theta’s shoulder and dislocated the arm and collarbone all. The Theta lurched in a stifled wheeze, and rolled in a flinch to shield his face.

“–I, I’m sorry. Y’didn’t deserve th–”

“–You really don’t remember me, if you don’t think I didn’t deserve that.” The dreg curled up tighter and coddled his shoulder when he realized Galen had not continued into a full assault, and he sniffed and fell to flat affect. “Did the ghouls even give you the books?”

“...Ghouls?” Galen sat, his brain swimming too hot to remain steady, and he shook his head in dismissal. He looked around a moment to see the others had mostly resumed eating rather than continue staring. “What are y'even on about?”

“Painted ghouls. The stalkers with their faces covered in spray paint. They steal from all the low-level places they can to smuggle stuff back inside the walls? I… never mind. I never learn my lesson.”

“…Runners. They’re runners. The city calls ‘em ghouls? The fuck.” The wiry naked idiot lay back and stared up at the mesh mezzanine acting as a lid to the container which was the courtyard.

“City thinks of ‘em like bogeymen. Like they couldn’t possibly be real stalkers. Just punks dressed up to scare folks or somethin’.”

“They all might as well be dead either way.”

“...You don’t have to tell me, but I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

���They got that paint all over their faces from huffin’ it. If a stalker leaves the Quarter anymore, they can’t breathe without paint, or maybe canned air. Dunno why I’m an exception to that. Maybe ‘cause I died way before all this shit started.” He squinted, face struggling not to screw up over it. “I don’t get it. The air in there’s all wrong now. It’s a wonder spray paint’s got enough… whatever in it to sustain runners long enough t’get outside the walls, then do a grab an’ run. I… I don’t wanna talk about how bad it is inside the walls. Not right of me to.”

“That’s fine. …You… you really don’t recognize me, though?” The Theta turned onto his back to give him a crestfallen, soulful pout, and slowly his dearth inflection broke into sentimentality. “It has been since before the walls. I guess I’ve changed just as much as you have. I mean, just… look at you. At the same time you don’t look like you’ve aged hardly at all, your body has just… continued… adapting… And I’ve just… continued falling apart… Going on forty now...” He reset his shoulder and didn’t even hiss. A quiet laugh came from him as he looked away, rubbing the joint. “Melancholy.”

“Are y’gonna just keep mopin’ an’ givin’ me coded hints or are y’gonna tell me your goddamn name? Maybe ring a bell? Y’drivin’ me loon.” Galen wiped the sorry from his face, and made vague circular gesticulations as he spoke. “Tch, it’s not much use anyway. Head cheese’s comin’ up all Swiss lately.”

Rather than form a rational response, Melancholy choked on laughter, then held his mouth and the tears just ran out of nowhere.

“…Finally seeing me again for the first time in over a decade, and you don’t even remember the asshole you took out all your sexual frustrations on while you were working for the EPA…” Melancholy sniffed and looked to him with a limpid sense of humor. He parted his greying undercut to slick down some approximation to bangtails, and pinched his thumbs and forefingers to hold circles to his eyes, intimating glasses with a stupid smile. “Maybe now?”

“Stop bendin’ like that. Don’t like that.” Galen rolled over so he didn’t have to keep looking at the sallow, horrid Theta. He hated being pushed for recollection he clearly didn’t have, being reminded just how little he remembered before the walls. How much of his brain had he lost after being beaten a dozen inches past his life, years ago? “I don’t even clearly know how I ended up in here. Just know they feed me. Today’s first I ever knew there was anybody but me here... You said you was just like me now. Tell me just exactly what you think about you’s just like me, yeah.”

“Well, that’s an exaggeration, I guess. I haven’t exactly gotten as far along as you, though I doubt I could ever catch up. I can knock back... a lot though. Most plastics don’t give me too much trouble now, either. They mostly give the Thetas medical and pharmaceutical discards. Olen over there, she can even handle the sharps bins no trouble. To be perfectly fair, this is the first I think any of us has known there was anyone else here... like this... Dunno how anyone else got here. I only know the folks who were in the same trial as me--and this is a million times better than anything they tried to sell me to hook me.”

To punctuate the statement, ‘Choly turned over and tried to spoon Galen, who allowed it from the stranger in the hopes proximity would help him feel better, even if it didn’t help jog his memories of him. ‘Choly’s face ended up in the crook of Galen’s shoulder.

“I just... Why are they collectin’ people who can eat like me? The fuck purpose is that? --An’ you mentioned you’re in here ‘cause they lied to you an’ told you this was some trial? You tryin’ t’tell me y'wasn’t always like this?”

'Choly turned his head so he didn’t bark another laugh right into Galen’s ear, but settled down again quickly with a nostalgic body beside him. He’d lost track of how long he’d been in the facility, how long it had been since he’d lain beside Cecil, or any of the Potluck. He nudged Galen onto his back and knelt atop him with an apathetic whimsy, his shoulders rolled and head a bit lolled.

“My chasing a way to become more like you has forever gotten us tangled up in each other’s chaos. Even now. I think I’m the only Theta happy to be here. Even happier, knowing I’m here with you... Say, I might not be able to stomach everything you can yet, but I can still...”

And ‘Choly hooked the corners of his mouth to force a smile across the entire span of his face. He recalled Galen disliking just the double-jointed display before and he quickly dropped the distortion with an embarrassed brow. When Galen only reacted in dumbstruck revulsion, ‘Choly ran a hand down Galen’s chest and left it atop the defined, warped abdominal muscles which formed a shape which was neither quite a paunch nor quite a potbelly. Galen shuddered a breath, shoulders in rigor as he frantically looked around to see if they still had any onlookers.

“The idiot from the library,” the Theta whispered desperately. “The idiot stalker stalking you for months on end before you caught me, and flung me into your apartment, and...” He trailed off and put his fingertips to Galen’s mouth, heart stitching knots like a sewing machine with a jammed bobbin. “We can... always make new memories...”

“Are you sure you actually handle all those bottles of other people’s drugs? You are fucking high as shit.”

“I’ve always been like this. I like to think it’s the one thing you liked about me. Gave you an excuse to feel justified roughing me up. Fuck, the shiner you gave me the first time I--” A halted moan came out of ‘Choly as he coaxed his fingers against Galen’s tongue. “I, you. You wouldn’t want to see if we have... that in common, would you? I was always so happy to oblige you, that I never really asked you to reciprocate...”

When ‘Choly moved to run his fingers even deeper into Galen’s mouth, Galen wrenched the hand from his lips by the wrist and glared up at him, haunted. That face. Something clicked in Galen’s head and flashed pieces of connected thoughts together. Fuck me, you’re perfect, he could hear in ‘Choly’s broken, unmodulated voice. This dreg had had his entire arm down Galen’s throat once--at least once--knew everything about him if he knew the lack of features on the outside belied the presence of internal genitalia. The dislocated shoulder, that hadn’t been the first time Galen had popped it out of joint. His face ran metallic, and his mouth in lieu of tears suffused with drool and panic.

“--Nn, not here. I don’t want this. Not like this. Hff-- fuck. Fuck fuck ffh--”

If this ass knew what Galen’s stomach lining felt like, surely he knew how loud Galen could get without something down his throat choking out the sound of it. In front of a hundred people, maybe more watching from observation windows. He flushed deep blue in the face just thinking about it, and did his best to swallow his upset.

“Where else, then? I don’t think they’re going to let us see each other in private. You make it sound like you would want it on different terms, at least. Perhaps just... keeping the stimulation external for now?” ‘Choly traced the chain of nodes where Galen’s navel had once been. Then, when Galen struggled not to cry out, he took Galen’s free hand and guided it up under the hem of the tank top, to touch him in kind. A ragged breath came out of ‘Choly as Galen tried to appease him by focusing such attention on him rather than himself, and ‘Choly fell to choking whispers as Galen traced his navel with a thumb. “Slaggit, if this even feels a fraction as good to me as it does to you-- Ugh, how I’ve missed the smell of your sweat.”

“Have you always... greeted me with sex... or am I just this unlucky?”

“Hhh, hha. I get the, impression, we’re all hardwired this way now. Look. I always thought it was, just the Thetas, blowing off steam after eating... but look.”

The two of them stopped to observe similar interactions, in various stages of disrobing. The Epsilons lounged in pairs across the piles of broken solar glass, grinding against each other, against a shared panel between each of them as they suckled on the edges. The Betas had progressed from feeding each other bits and pieces, to languorously effusing metal directly from their palms into one another’s wanting mouths. The Gammas took to opposite ends of lengths of rubber pipes and let their mouths linger in one another’s when they met in the middle. All manner of lawless orgy bloomed up around them, a topography of derangement fueled by a gamut of appetites.

“They’re... They’re... Why...” In particular, Galen watched the Betas in abject fascination. He barely contained voicing the nascent desire that someone feed him in any such way.

“I’ve lost track of the number of times they’ve told my sector to knock it off. Something about the vagus nerves gets scrambled with the primary mutation... Seems understandable now why the white coats are so jealous. Positive feedback reinforcement, though, I suppose--if they could breed it out of us, we’d have no reward for performance.”

“--Ju --jus --sst, ssssh shut up. Y'sound like one a those freaks in white, but broken.” Galen squinted and shuddered, then felt very small. “Can... can you ss, sweat... like that? The metal? Probably a stupid question, ss, sssince you said they feed you drugs. Don’t got a lotta metal in drugs...”

‘Choly became animated at the thinly-veiled request, pressing his free palm to Galen’s lips and smearing lithium all over them. He could tell exactly what had captivated the Alpha’s attention.

“Pharmacology uses a lot of metals, actually.” He grinned, absolutely drunken on obliging Galen’s appetites in such a precise but multifaceted way. “They do have a grand idea. Do you want me to--”

Dropping all reservations, Galen forced ‘Choly’s hand down his throat and let ‘Choly guide himself all the way down inside. Whereupon, the cowed Theta unloaded every metal he could muster directly into his idol’s gut, all the while stroking the distended stomach lining. However new it was, it was still the most familiar thing either had felt in ages, and Galen blissfully reciprocated the attention by petting ‘Choly’s abdomen. And they remained passionately tangled up in such a way, until the orderlies filed in to pry everyone apart with a firm gentleness, to escort them back to well-rehearsed isolation.