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#i had this half finished in my wips for MONTHS and i managed to finally finish it !!

moonlight-prose · 8 months

Note

If you’re taking those as prompts, ❛ don’t you know what you’re doing to me? ❜ with Din perhaps?

LOVE IS A FIRE THAT BURNS UNSEEN

a/n: so i took forever on this, because i kind of fell out of writing for din for...well....awhile. i can tell you this sat in my wips folder half finished for months. honestly i was wondering if it would even get finished. but i was re-watching mando last night and decided why the fuck not. i can't remember which prompt list this was from because it's been so long, but that's okay. this is not beta read or edited, but we live and die by the pen.

summary: on your list of things that could possibly happen while bounty hunting with din, dying from hypothermia wasn't included. nor was finally admitting the truth to yourself about your feelings.

word count: 3.1k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, near death experience, angst, feelings being admitted sort of, p in v sex, a hint of choking, they're so in love it's sickening.

It’s fucking cold in the Razor Crest as you sit in the cockpit waiting for his return. You’re bundled in a jacket that has seen better days, but even with the extra layers you swear you’ll freeze to death before he comes back. Tempted to turn the ship back on in order to get some heat—you do the most to distract yourself from the frost currently eating away at the skin of your face. Din’s instructions were clear. Keep the ship hidden until he comes back with the bounty, which would be simple enough.

That is if the bounty he was currently hunting resided on a planet with a temperature that wouldn’t kill you from exposure. Everything had been fine two hours ago. You were working on repairing an old comlink as he tracked the bounty through space, having caught their signal on the outer edges of the galaxy. Except then…they were attacked. Neither of you could see who caused it or even why, but suddenly a lone ship was heading into the atmosphere on the one planet you always said you’d rather die than visit.

Hoth—a frozen pit that once housed the Rebellion of all places.

So, there you were. Shivering to gain some warmth as you scanned the area for Din’s signal. If the ship was right, he still remained alive. You only wished you could say the same for yourself by the time he came back.

The cold had begun to seep into your layers, hitting your chest directly and causing you to cough harshly. If he didn’t return within the hour he would find you dead due to hypothermia. Except that’s not what scared you. It was the fact that he would be the one to find you—a man who showed absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.

You weren’t sure when the crush started or even why, but you do know the realization hit you harder than a speeder-bike going at full speed one day while you were sitting beside him in the cockpit. He laughed at something you said, the chuckle low and slightly clipped due to his modulator and that’s what did it. What had you sitting there in shock—eyes wide—as it suddenly dawned on you that…you liked him. A lot more than you would have ever thought before.

“Maker fucking above,” you muttered, your teeth chattering with the words. “Hurry up, bucket head.”

Vaguely you recalled some survival tips from your time as a teenager on Bracca working as a scrapper. Never touch live wires, always look out for yourself, and when stuck in freezing temperatures—layers become your best friend. So, you stumbled out of the cockpit chair and towards the ladder that would lead you to the rest of his ship. Slow small steps were all you could manage as your body went into overdrive to try and keep you warm. Except the ship acted as an icebox rather than a heater.

You could lock yourself in his small cot, burrowing under the blankets he’d bought because of you complaining there wasn’t enough on the ship. But you’d first have to get there. It was a struggle to even climb down the ladder—your breath coming in gasps as your lungs fought against the freezing air. How long had you been sitting up there? You held no answer to the question, because the results were clear to you now; you were up there long enough to lead you right to death’s doorstep.

Dragging yourself along the side of the ship wall, you flinched as the cold metal touched your cheek. You should have gone against his orders and simply turned the ship back on. It would keep you from this—currently fighting against hypothermia as Din took his sweet time coming back.

The sound of the airlock on the door releasing when it opened brought a small flicker of hope to life, burning bright in your chest. But it faded just as quickly as it came. You caught sight of him dragging a half dead bounty up the ramp—his helmet turned towards you—before you collapsed to the ground. Your body shivering in a final attempt to generate enough body heat in order to keep you alive.

His voice calling your name echoed in the back of your mind as you drifted off—the concept of sleep far more enticing than it should be.

Steady breaths against your bare back was what you woke up—your mind drifting slowly back to reality. Or at least what you thought to be reality. The last thing you could recall was seeing Din’s helmet as your body did what it could to survive. How you ended up in the darkness of his cot, pressed against someone you assumed to be him…naked, was a mystery to you. Perhaps you were still dreaming. This must be how your mind envisioned some form of peace to ease your soul into an afterlife.

“You’re awake.” His voice caught you off guard—the breath in your throat catching.

“How…”

The shift of his body created a low burn of heat to appear at the bottom of your stomach as his arm tightened around your waist—drawing you closer. “You almost stopped breathing when I got back. Your body went into shock from the cold.”

“I was dying,” you said softly, the realization far less jarring than waking beside him in the nude.

He hummed, the low pitch a vibration you felt along your back. “I had to get you warm.”

“So you took off my clothes?” you asked, the smile prominent in your tone.

“Generating enough body heat only works when—”

“Both of us are naked.”

His fingers gripped onto the soft skin of your belly. “Yes,” he replied—voice slightly strained.

Somehow it never registered that he was actually sans armor and clothing until you felt his hand glide further up. The soft skin of his palm turned the spark into a fully formed flame that traveled its way through your body. He was laying beside you…naked. If you concentrated hard enough, you could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your lower back—his skin soft there too.

Any other time your brain would have short circuited, but the sluggishness from sleep had yet to wear off. It made you rather docile—something you felt oddly grateful for. You were entirely aware, fully conscious of your words and decisions, but the tranquility in your body seemingly spurred you forward. No other time would you be this centered—this sure of yourself—and maybe that’s where you made the mistake, because this was dangerous. Revealing the feelings you’d harbored for months was like poison to your heart…positively lethal.

“Din,” you murmured, the soft heat coming from his body now spreading into yours.

If you knew you’d end up like this after one visit to Hoth, you would have come here a lot sooner.

“Yes?” Even his breath was warm as it brushed across the bare skin of your shoulder. Maker you were close in his bed that was barely big enough for him, let alone you beside him.

“I—” The words caught in the base of your throat, lodging themselves there like a stone you couldn’t swallow. You wanted to say it. Get everything out into the open and be done with it, but your mind seemed to be slowly coming to its senses.

“What is it?”

Closing your eyes, you let out a shuddered breath in the hopes that it would push down the erratic nerves which jumped under your skin. If you chickened out now, you’d never say the words. They’d be your secret—forever trapped in the cage of your heart until it was far too late to confess them. What’s funny is that they seemed like such easy things to say. How hard was it really to say I love you? How much effort did it take? Only you now realized it took a lot more than you expected.

It was far easier to die than to admit your feelings.

“I have to tell you something and I just—” Inhaling, you curled your hand around the blanket beneath you. “I don’t want you to look at me differently if things don’t turn out the way I hope.”

His thumb rubbed a soothing circle against your hip. “I won’t.”

You scoffed. “You probably will.”

The subtle shift of his body against yours caused flutters to go through your heart—rendering you speechless for a moment. He was so close it was maddening. If you had the courage you’d turn around, press yourself to him, and whisper the words against his lips. But you were practically stone, unable to even turn your head slightly to feel the press of his lips against your neck.

“For a while now I’ve felt…well…my feelings towards you have changed.” You blurted them out, hoping it was like ripping off a bandaid. Except the silence of his response hurt more than you expected.

Until—

“I know,” he said, his hand pressing a bit harder on your hip.

Nothing could have prepared you for the shockwave that went through your body. “You know?” you exclaimed.

“I’ve known since our trip to Coruscant.”

You paused, trying to form something to say, but all you could come up with was: “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Why had he let you think he held no feelings towards you? That you were alone in this. You felt him stiffen behind you, his hand pulling away slightly and your heart sank in your chest. Perhaps you had asked the wrong question. Or even touched on a part of this he didn’t want you to see. But you had to know the truth. You knew why you waited—why you couldn’t get the words out for the life of you—but why had he?

That is until he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly, jolting you back towards his body. A soft yelp left you as you tried to refocus yourself in the pitch black space. Except then you felt it. Pressing hard and insistent against your lower back—a part of Din you had only ever imagined, but never seen.

He grunted, his hand splaying across your stomach as you shifted against him. “Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”

You gasped. “Din—”

“What you’ve been doing?

His hips canted downwards, grinding against you and sending heat sparking up your spine. Enough to combat the cold that still remained in you, but you wanted more. You craved it. Moaning softly, you pushed back against him, pressing your thighs together to hopefully appease the growing ache that formed. Except he was one step ahead of you. Shoving his bare thigh between your legs, he pressed it upwards, grinning at the way your head fell back against his chest—a guttural moan leaving your lips.

“Every day is fucking torture,” he rasped, his hand sliding even lower until his fingers were hovering right above where you needed him most. “Because I can’t touch you.” His lips pressed against the curve of your jaw. “Because I can’t kiss you…”

“Maker,” you gasped, reaching down to wrap your hand around his wrist. “I-I want you to touch me. Want you to kiss me.”

His fingers dipped down even lower, finally parting your folds. A ragged groan was pressed to your jaw, his teeth scraping down against the skin when he found you wet and dripping for him. You could feel his heartbeat against your back. How it was erratic and almost as quick as yours. He was just as nervous as you were—if not more so, because of his creed.

He wanted you to be his, to love him as he was with his creed, but he was scared that this wasn’t permanent. You wanted to show him the inner workings of your mind, the makeup of your heart—how he was seared into it. He was ingrained so deep into your soul that you couldn’t even fathom the thought of being parted from him.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asked, disbelief clear in his tone.

Nodding, you felt another moan begin to form, only for it to die as he pulled his fingers away. “No—”

“Shh,” he breathed, cupping your jaw as he moved even closer. “I’ll take care of you.”

Heat flooded your stomach, a whine forming in your throat as he pulled you back, the head of his cock now nudging against your entrance. You dug your nails into his forearm, your lips parting to form around his name. A ragged moan echoing in his small quarters, and he began to push forward. Sliding into you slowly as you fought to keep yourself quiet.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed, wrapping his arm around your torso and thrusting into you completely, his hips pressing against your ass. “Won’t last—”

You keened when his hand fell to your clit, circling it with enough pressure to send jolts up your spine. For a moment he simply held himself there. Encompassed in your heat as he worked you over, building your release steadily until you were pressing into him. Your hips rolling against his fingers—fucking yourself on his cock. Soft moans were pressed to your skin, the stubble on his jaw scratching along your shoulder, and that only heightened everything.

For the first time…he was entirely yours. Bare and open as he indulged in something both of you had held back from doing for so long.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you turned your head and caught the corner of his lips in a kiss. Something so tender yet so powerful. It nearly sent you over the edge and you felt Din’s surprise at the action. How his body jolted, his hips nudging forward and fingers stuttering in their motions. Even though he had proudly claimed he wanted to kiss you, to finally feel your lips against his. He had never expected it to come true.

“Cyar'ika,” he breathed.

“I want…” You gasped, hips rolling against his fingers in quick movements as that blinding feeling continued to overtake you. “Kiss me Din. Please, please—”

His mouth found yours in the darkness of his cabin, and you felt your heart scream out. Felt your entire body give into him, his name, his signet forever carved into your heart. He was your future and he knew it. Which is why he kissed you with a fervor that you believed only existed in your dreams—a passion that you felt right down to your toes. His tongue slid along yours, tasting the shitty caf you had earlier—the desperation on your tastebuds.

“Ah…” You tried to form the words on your tongue. The feelings that were trapped in your heart, but they refused to be let loose.

“I know you want to cum,” he breathed, fingers speeding up as your walls began to flutter around his cock. His other hand shifted, wrapping gently around your throat to keep your face close to his. Pressing down lightly as you gasped. “Let me feel it.”

A keening broken moan of his name ripped from you, hands scrabbling to grasp for something, settling for his arm that kept you pressed against him. White flashed behind your closed eyes, his lips swallowing every sound you made as you writhed against him. Gushing around his cock.

You didn’t hear the hoarse shout that he pressed into your mouth, his hips thrusting into you quickly as he followed you off the edge. Filling you with a warmth that you swore you felt in your chest. Biting down on his bottom lip you sucked into your mouth, moaning when he canted his hips forward, prolonging the sparks that ran up your spine. He was a panting mess and you tried to picture what he looked like.

Was his hair a mess? Were his cheeks stained red? Were his lips swollen?

The urge to simply open your eyes nearly overtook you, but you understood what came with that action. What would have to happen afterwards. Din had explained enough for you to grasp the basic details of what being a Mandalorian meant. So you kept them closed and opted to simply feel. You memorized how his lips against yours felt, what being full of him felt like.

You kept what you could nestled against your heart, remaining here for as long as possible. Din’s cock softened in you, twitching every now and then when your walls fluttered. But you solely had him to blame. Because he was running his hand along your body, grazing your nipples lightly before pulling away—the familiar feelings in your stomach stirring once more. If he wasn’t careful neither of you would be leaving this bed for quite some time.

Which didn’t bode well for you seeing as how you hated the planet you currently resided on.

“Din,” you breathed, pulling away to catch your breath before he dived down again—ready for round two of the hottest makeout session you’d partaken in.

“You want to leave,” he panted. There was something scary about how he could see your thoughts so clearly. You’d have to ask him about it later.

“No…” Your head fell back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here, but Hoth.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We can stay here for as long as you want.”

Half expecting him to pull out and place his helmet back in its rightful place, you were a bit surprised when he remained put. Curling himself around you closer until his body perfectly molded yours. The cold still remained in the ship—the heaters unable to counteract the snowy planet—yet you found that you were perfectly content to remain right where you were. Wrapped in his arms—the certainty of your future now nestled in his heart. Mimicking yours in every way.

“Din,” you breathed in the darkness, feeling him trace something along your waist.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say…” You took in a breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. “I feel like you should hear me say it.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers pressing down. “I know cyar'ika. I feel the same way.”

“You do?” you asked softly.

“I do.”

You settled into the bed, allowing your muscles to relax and your body to once more give into the temptation of sleep. With Din right there, you felt as if you were able to finally relax. To give in and allow yourself to float.

“You know…” You yawned, feeling his chin settle against your shoulder. “Maybe Hoth isn’t so bad.”

He smiled, his lips brushing along your skin as you drifted off, mind succumbing to the sweet snare of unconsciousness. “No,” he breathed, continuing to trace the shape of his signet on your skin, because whether you wore it or not…you were a part of his clan. His life. “It’s not.”

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #my writing

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wolfjackle-creates · 3 months

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Answer My Call Chapter 2 Part 2

Happy WIP Wednesday! So last week, we had a tie between Bring Me Home and Answer My Call. The tie breaker didn't come in until Monday after I'd already finished the entire Bring Me Home chapter and half the Answer My Call one.

So y'all will be getting two fic upates today then I'm going to sleep. I'm tired after a full day of work with a call out. XP

If you want a say in next week's update, vote in the poll!

Story Summary: Jazz, Sam, and Tucker manage to help Danny escape the GIW, but they can't follow him and are under too much surveillance to communicate with each other. Sam snuck Danny a phone as he ran and Jazz sends him a text every day, hoping to hear he is all right. But he's not the one getting the texts.

Jason was away for several months on a mission with the Outlaws. When he finally returns home, he is surprised to find dozens of messages from an unknown number begging a Danny to tell her he's okay. Looks like there's not going to be a break between missions this time around.

Chapter 1: AO3 (user locked), Tumblr

Chapter 2: Part 1

Word Count: 1.3k

-----

After the performances—an odd mix where the main band yielded the stage to a poet or an accordionist when they needed a break—Jazz and Todd continued to mingle.

Jazz waited until about fifteen minutes had passed before reaching into her bag to search for her phone. “Todd!” she cried.

“Jazz? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find my phone! Shit, what time is it?”

Todd pulled out his. “Eleven fifty. Did you have it when we arrived?”

“I don’t know! I haven’t checked it. Where could it have gone?”

One of the other attendees broke into the conversation. “Lost your phone? What does it look like? We can help you look.” She was a woman in her forties or fifties. Next to her was another woman who nodded her agreement.

“Thank you, that’d be great.” It didn’t take much effort to bring tears to her eyes—all she had to do was remember that Danny was still missing. “It’s a Samsung in an unfortunately standard black case. The lock screen has picture of and my brother. My name’s Jazz, by the way. And this is Todd.”

“I’m Mel and this is my wife Jayden. I’m sure we’ll find your phone soon enough.” Then, in a voice loud enough to cut through the chatter, “Oi! Anyone see an unattended phone lying around? Jazz here misplaced hers?”

Even Mel, though, had to admit defeat after half an hour of searching through the entire apartment yielded nothing.

Jazz sat down on the floor and let herself cry. “And by now we’ve missed the last train. I’m sorry, Todd. What a disaster.”

“Hey, no. None of that, now. Tonight’s been a blast. This sucks for sure, but I can get us an uber or something—”

“How far are you kids going?” asked Jayden.

“Too far,” cried Jazz. “I live out of the city. Parked at Alewife and took the red line in.”

Jayden winced. “Well, we parked nearby. Is there somewhere close we can drive you?”

Jazz blinked up at them. “You’d do that?” She turned to Todd. “I just want to go to sleep. Is there a motel nearby we could stay at?”

Todd pulled out his phone and searched. “Looks like there’s a Holiday inn just down the street or a La Quinta that’s a little cheaper just a bit further out.” He smiled ruefully at the women who’d been helping them. “If you could get us to either place, we’d be more than grateful.”

One of the residents, an older man named Rob, took a seat next to them. “Hey, kiddo. What’s your email? We can contact you if anyone finds it.”

Jazz smiled at him gratefully and gave it. If it wasn’t so necessary, she’d feel bad for lying to and worrying all these people. But they were in so much danger. To the women, she said, “Would the La Quinta be too far out of the way? If I end up having to get a new phone, I’d like to save as much money as possible. Thank God I still have my wallet.”

“Sweetie, it’s totally fine,” assured Mel. “We’d take you all the way home if we didn’t live on the opposite side of the city.”

“Thank you, but that’s really okay. I just want to go to bed and worry about it tomorrow.”

“Come on, dear.” Mel reached out a hand to help Jazz up. “Let’s get you cleaned up then we’ll be on our way.”

Jazz thanked Rob for his help before Mel led her towards the bathroom with an arm around her shoulder.

Less than forty minutes later, Todd and Jazz were alone in a hotel room together. She pulled the blinds shut and finally let herself relax.

When she turned back to the room, Todd was looking at her with one eyebrow raised. “Want to explain to me what all of”—he threw out his hands—“that was about?”

Jazz glared back at him. “You didn’t tell me you died! Damn it, if I’d known in advance—!” she cut herself off and took a deep breath. “Never mind. What’s done is done.”

Todd was deadly still. “How do you know that?”

Jazz threw her hands in the air. “It’s obvious to anyone who knows how to tell. Including the Guys in White who I told you are dangerous to ghosts and liminals! I had plans for what I’d say when they found us, but those won’t work if you’re dead!”

“Wait.” Todd held up his hands. “You’re saying I can be persecuted under those Anti-Ecto acts?”

“Yes! You’re more ghostly than me, and I am watched every minute of every day.”

Todd narrowed his eyes and stared at her for a moment before asking, “Have you heard of Lazarus Water or had any dealings with the League of Assassins?”

“No! I have no idea what you’re talking about. Quit changing the subject. My brother is the only thing that matters and you and Red Robin promised to help me find him.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” Jason’s eyes flashed green, and Jazz glared right back at him. “The League of Assassins are the ones who brought me back to life with Lazarus Water. I need to know if you and your brother are mixed up with them because that would change our approach. If it’s a rogue government agency, that’s one thing. If it’s also the league, we’ve got a whole set of other problems.”

Jazz sat down heavily on one of the bed. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t— It’s been a long few months. After a long few years.”

Todd sat down across from her and nodded for her to continue. “Tell me what happened.”

“It started three years ago. My parents, they’re ghost hunters. Been building weapons to detect and hunt ghosts since before I was born. But three years ago is when they finally finished their life’s work: the ghost portal. Only it didn’t work at first. Then my brother Danny and his friends decided to be stupid. They went to check it out. I wasn’t there and the three of them don’t talk about it, but something happened down there that day.

“My brother died and the portal was working. Only, he didn’t die all the way. He became half-ghost, half-human. And that would have been bad enough, but with the portal open, ghosts came through from the Infinite Realms, sometimes called the Ghost Zone by humans. Some were benign, but many of them came to cause problems or hurt people. Danny stopped them.”

Todd held up a hand to stop her. “Your brother became a supehero? How didn’t the Justice League hear about this? How old was he?”

Jazz shrugged. “I don’t know about the Justice League. It could be that no one ever contacted them. It could be they didn’t believe us. And it could be that no one cared. Danny felt responsible though, since it was his fault the portal turned on. And he was the only one with the ability to stop the ghosts, so…” She held up her hands in a what-can-you-do gesture.

Todd closed his eyes and let out a careful breath. “I can guarantee you the JL didn’t know about your town. A fourteen-year-old would never have been left alone to monitor an interdimensional portal if we had.”

Jazz had no idea what she thought of that. Danny had done it all alone. So finding out he could have had help? She shook her head. What-ifs were a waste of time. “Well, he did. But the government didn’t like that a ghost was the main defense against ghosts. So the Ghost Investigation Ward, more commonly called the Guys in White or GIW was formed. At first, they were as incompetent as any other ghost hunter. But they didn’t stay that way.”

“What happened to your brother, Jazz?” asked Todd.

-----

Sorry to end it there. But it's the right length and I need to go to bed. XP

Hope you enjoy!

I no longer do tag lists, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want notifications when I update.

Not much to say about this one. When I went to the event at this location, my friend and I very nearly missed the last train. It was pulling into the station as we entered. If we'd been 2 or 3 minutes later, we would've been stranded so far from my car, I don't even want to know what that uber or cab would've cost.

Luckily Jazz and Jason had a few good Samaritans nearby.

Next up: We learn more about what happened to Danny!

#dpxdc #answer my call #wrong number au #jazz fenton #jason todd #eventual anger management ship #emotions are running high #and jazz is Stressed™️#but they can finally talk #and be safe about it

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juyeonszn · 3 months

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PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER (PT. 2)

PAIRING kevin moon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.60k

GENRES angst ﹒little bit of fluff ﹒little bit of smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, reader is better than me cause i would not let kevin do all the shit he’s done 😭, ANYWAY i digress, this part is very reader-centric — whereas part one is very kevin-centric, inner turmoil goes absolutely crazy, most of this fic is reader putting kevin in his place and him realizing how big of an asshole he truly is, mentions of injury (past tense), mentions of insecurity, lots of arguing, reader cries at one point or another, the smut places a very minimal role in this, but unprotected sex, public sex (the auditorium dressing room), no foreplay but wtv we fall like soldiers in battle, pussy job lowkey (high key…), creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY it wasn’t like you and kevin hated each other. in fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

MORE oh my god. it’s finally fucking here. A MONTH, 2 SICKNESSES AND MANY MANY STRESSFUL NIGHTS LATER— part two of princess and the pauper is here!!! i’m so sorry to those of u who have been itching and waiting on me to get ‘er done,,, it’s been an ordeal to say the least, and while it’s nearing the two month mark since the black out or back out collab was announced, SHE FINALLY FINISHED!!! for once i saw something through omg i can sleep peacefully and work on my other wips without guilt now… 😭 ALSO THANK U SO MUCH MAYA @/kimsohn FOR PUSHING ME THROUGH THIS and for making me thug it out bc without u it definitely would’ve taken much longer to finish 💔 please dont forget to read part one and the other fics in the series if u haven’t!! both are linked below! and as always, pls reblog if u enjoyed <3

PART ONE | SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr @sunwooverse @kimsohn

TAGLIST @millksea @deobibbang @deobi0412

Never in your life have you felt so… Confused.

It wasn’t just confusion that settled deep in the pit of your stomach. There was a sharp pain there too, like someone stabbed you and twisted the knife. That was probably the best way to describe what you were feeling. You were bleeding out, and no one was coming to save you.

Kevin wasn’t answering your calls. He wasn’t answering your texts. He ran out of the lecture hall as soon as class was over, never giving you a moment to speak to him. It was making you nervous.

You still had half of a dance to choreograph and a fuck ton of pressure riding on your back. After the last performance you and him did together, you’d have a lot of eyes on you. It most definitely wasn’t your fault that he dropped you. How many people willingly want to acquire a broken ankle? The crutches were a bitch to maneuver around with. But like every single thing that’s happened in the three years you’ve known Kevin Moon, he’s managed to place the blame on you like it was.

It was crucial that you make amends with him even if it was momentarily. Your final grades were dependent on your performance. If he couldn’t get his shit together for at least that, he was a lost cause in your mind. Not even your professor would be able to refute that fact. Actually, nobody would be able to refute that fact.

Your lips form an O as you blow the steam away from your coffee, pulling out your phone to try Kevin’s phone once again. The line rings a few times before going straight to voicemail like it has the past couple weeks. You kiss your teeth, tying your sweater around your waist as you slump in your chair. The baristas at the campus cafe were probably sick of seeing you sitting in the same high-top counter spot since the incident with Kevin in the studio.

“Y/N?”

Ji Changmin appears beside you and you click your phone off, so he wouldn’t see his friend’s contact on the screen. You give the Early Childhood Dev major a weak smile.

“Changmin! What’s up? How are you and your girlfriend?” You hope he can’t recognize the distress written all over your features. You highly doubt it, though. You can feel the wrinkles pulling at your skin.

“We’re good! How’s the showcase performance going with Kev?” He asks like he knows something you don’t. When your lips fall to a thin line, an all too familiar grimace, he sighs a knowing sigh. “Do I have to smack some sense into him?”

“Not gonna lie, yeah, you do. He’s being really fucking difficult and like half of our dance is unfinished. I can’t even get a hold of him, so I’m starting to lose my patience.” You express your annoyance. The border between complacency and free-will was a lot slimmer than one might think. For example; your feelings when it comes to Kevin Moon.

You don’t expect to get a returning call later that night when you’re washing dishes after dinner.

In fact, you don’t even hear it at first, too absorbed in scrubbing the staining out of your bowl. It’s when your roommate yells out to you, that you snap out of your reverie, albeit dazedly. You dry your hands on a nearby tea towel, hitting the green answer button without a second glance at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Your heart catches in your throat. You recognize the owner of the voice practically by the first breath into the receiver alone. It’s actually kind of unhealthy how quickly it took to realize who was on the other end. You swallow heavily, praying he doesn’t hear the gulp.

“In the latter part of the afternoon, I believe. Why?” You try not to sound hopeful. That’s one thing you’ve learned being in the same vicinity as Kevin Moon. You could never be too expecting, because it would only lead to disappointment. And you’d dealt with enough of that the past few years.

“We need to finish this fuck ass choreography,” he grunts, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue. “I’ll meet you in the same studio at 4.”

He doesn’t let you get anything else in, hanging up swiftly. You deflate as you set your phone back on the counter. All you had to do was push through these next couple weeks, like you always have when it came to him.

That should be a piece of cake, right?

Wrong.

“No, that looks stupid.”

You grit your teeth, swiping the back of your hand on your forehead. You’d been inside of this studio maybe 30 minutes tops, and you were on the verge of strangling Kevin. With as long as you’d been putting up with his shit, you thought getting through this wouldn’t be as rough as it’s been. But if there was one thing Kevin Moon had, it was pride.

“We don’t have time for you to nitpick right now. Let’s just finish the choreography and clean it after.” Your hands rest on your hips, nostrils flaring.

“If we clean as we go, we’ll have more time to drill it into our systems and get down muscle memory. It’ll be a stronger performance.” He argues. You roll your eyes as you turn away from him, taking a water break to calm yourself. “Why do you have so much fucking attitude today? You were the one preaching to the choir about me making things difficult. It seems the tables have turned.”

Usually, you were pretty good at keeping your frustration at bay when it came to Kevin’s remarks. You liked to think it was because you were down bad for the guy, despite him always wanting nothing to do with you. But as of late, (Read: Since your performance of Princess and the Pauper) every little comment he’s made has managed to crawl under your skin like a damn parasite. You were beginning to get real sick of it.

“God, you’re so—“ You interrupt yourself to groan, fingers curling into fists. “You’re fucking insufferable. Do you know that? I’ve been bending over backwards to ensure we aren’t kicked out of the goddamn program and you don’t even fucking care. Over what? A kiss that you initiated?”

Kevin is stunned into silence, not at all prepared for you to blow up on him like that. After all, that razor thin line between complacency and free-will had yet to be crossed. And well, it appears that you just crossed it. You whip around toward him, pulling down the collar of your t-shirt to reveal the faintest of bruises that still remains from your impromptu act of intimacy.

“I’ve had to look at this every day for a week and all it’s done is make me feel shitty, ashamed of something I didn’t even start. Now I need you to stop acting like an ass and get it together so we can finish this and perform the best dance this university has ever seen.” Your chest is heaving up and down, similarly to when you made out against the mirrors last week. Except this time isn’t out of breathlessness, but rather anger and exhaustion.

Kevin’s eyes don’t leave the hickey on the base of your throat, something undetectable swimming in them as he stares. You can’t read the emotions swirling rampantly in his irises, a mixture of too many blurring into one another. Honestly, it’s funny. It’s funny that it’s taken you this long to get him to shut his mouth for once.

So you laugh.

It’s a snort at first, an off handed projection of how comical the situation has become to you. But then it metamorphoses into a small giggle, which leads to full scale laughter that has you hunching over your knees and wiping away tears. This whole thing is stupid. Absolutely fucking stupid.

“What are you laughing at?” His eyebrow raises in question, broken from his weird trance.

“I just can’t believe it took three years for me to shut you up,” you shake your head slowly, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm. “You’re always the one who can’t stop talking.”

Kevin deadpans, mouth pulled pin-straight as his expression drops. “You’re so unserious.”

As the height of your laughter reaches a valley, you collapse onto the ground, resting your back against the mirror. You take another long sip of water before sighing. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. Trust me, I know. But, we’ve gotta set aside our differences just this once. Please, for the sake of the department.”

“Fine,” he murmurs, plopping down beside you to stretch his back. “Let’s finish choreographing so we can start cleaning it up.”

It’s a victory in your book, and probably the most obedient the Pisces has ever been. Maybe this wouldn’t end in complete disaster like you assumed it would. It turns out Kevin Moon wasn’t entirely brainless and knew when he was wrong. Sometimes. Maybe. We’ll see.

You shut your eyes and visualize what you’ve choreographed so far, going over the moves in your head to see if the rest will come to you like a prophecy. It’s wishful thinking, but with how much you’ve accomplished since setting foot in the studio, you’re willing to try anything. The track would be nice for elements of hip hop style choreography, but you knew the audience wouldn’t eat it up as much as they would the route you’re currently taking.

Driver roll up the partition, please…

The song plays through the speakers and you watch as Kevin stands to run through everything you have. You’re entranced by his movements, the flow of his body on certain points. It’ll look ten times better once you’re doing it with him, costumed and performing it perfectly in front of a crowd. You can picture it now, the gentle but controlled glide of his hands along your arms when Beyoncé sings “We ain’t even gonna make it to this club”. He was right. You very well might be seduced by your enemy.

“Should we use props?” You suddenly voice, eyes narrowed in thought. He hums.

“That’s… not a half-bad idea, actually,” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “What did you have in mind?”

“A chair, maybe,” you look away from him, placing your focus on the way your toes alternate between a tendu and relaxed position. “That could take up a good chunk of the choreo.”

Kevin stalks over to the supply closet in the corner of the studio, pulling out a folding chair. He puts it in the center of the room gently, careful to not scratch up the wooden, lacquered flooring. You spend the next couple of hours brainstorming through numerous versions of the dance. While it was a lot easier than your past practices, there were still the occasional argument over which movements looked good and whatnot.

At a certain point, everything becomes cohesive and the end is near. You gulp down some water as Kevin does some random choreography. It’s then that it comes to you, like a vision from That’s So Raven. You practically drop your water bottle, scrambling to your feet and stopping him. Your breath is heavy from fatigue and you’re slightly afraid of even suggesting this, but it’s exactly what this dance needs. It’s exactly what everyone wants to see from the two of you.

He pauses the music and gestures for you to get on with it. You push down the lump in your throat, scared of rejection. But maybe he was smart and he would agree that this is what you have to do. “What if we did a lift?”

You see the hesitation swirling in his eyes and you raise a finger before he can shut you down entirely. “Nothing crazy like… um— you know— Princess and the Pauper, but something smaller. Something… sexy? Like, Dancing with the Stars type beat.”

When he shrugs instead of outright dismissing your idea, you know you’ve won. He nods slowly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Okay, sure. But we better clean up everything else fast so we can perfect the lift.”

The two of you take another three hours running the entirety of the choreography, ingraining the moves into your brains and muscles. You still had a bit until the actual showcase, but your priority now lies with the lift. If you nailed it, the entire department would very well grovel after you in reparation for all of the slack you got after Kevin dropped you. Hell, the entire university would kiss your feet. This was your redemption. In more ways than one.

You both decide to call it a day at around 9:30 PM. Your hands reach for your belongings and then you halt yourself, a thought coming to mind. While you had him in this weird state of obedience, you figured it was as good a time as any to ask the question that’s been weighing on you for the past few years. Your fingers swipe away the sweat beading around your hairline.

”Kevin,” you start, voice a lot softer than before. “Why do you— what did I do to make you dislike me so much?”

He’s caught completely off guard, eyes widening in surprise. If he was anticipating you to say anything else prior to parting ways tonight, he didn’t think this would be it. He’s actually a little off put that you hadn’t asked him this already in the span of your definitely-one-sided rivalry. He takes a large gulp of water.

”I’d call it indifference, not dislike,” he corrects after a pregnant silence. “It’s really fucking stupid thinking about it in hindsight. I don’t know if you remember this time, way back in our first year, we ran into each other at the campus cafe— literally, might I add— and you spilled your coffee all over this white shirt of mine that Changmin had gotten for me as a birthday gift. I only recently found out that it wasn’t as expensive as he made it out to be.”

You blink at his admission, processing his words as thoroughly as possible. You don’t know what you wanted him to say. You weren’t even sure if there was a concrete reason for him to be so fucking mean to you all this time. And now that you know, you come to the conclusion that Kevin Moon isn’t as smart as you’ve painted him out to be in your head. He’s actually a gigantic idiot. Because who in their right mind goes through these lengths to form a distance between the only other person on par with their talent?

Before you can stop yourself, you’re bursting into another fit of laughter. Kevin falters at your reaction. He was waiting for you to blow up on him, to scream in his face for causing you so much pain and unnecessary drama over something so silly. So when you do none of that, when you start fucking laughing like a damn hyena, he feels dumb. Like his entire college career has been built off of nothing.

”This is so—“ you pause to gather your bearings, wiping away the tears that managed to escape. “We’ve spent so much time going back and forth over some spilled coffee? Surely you’ve realized how insane that is at some point.”

”It took a lengthy argument with Changmin, but yeah, I did,” he nods, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, finally getting your things together. The two of you bid each other an awkward goodbye. Neither of you knew what to make of your relationship now that things had been partially sorted through. There was a fuck ton of baggage that still had to be sifted, but at least you had an answer.

That was enough to push through this showcase performance. You think.

You’re nervous.

Never in your entire life have you ever been this nervous for a performance.

You grew up doing musical theatre and dancing, it’s always been the one constant presence you could rely on. But standing here, backstage at the showcase, you think you’re going to throw up. Your palms are clamming up uncontrollably and your chest feels unbearably heavy as you watch the quartet doing a contemporary piece to some ballad you couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. There were still a couple groups before you.

Not even when you had to perform fuckass Princess and the Pauper were you this anxious. You wince, trying to stop the incessant bouncing of your leg. Your weight keeps shifting from one hip to the other. As a seasoned veteran, you don’t know why you feel this way. Maybe it had to do with all the pressure riding on this very dance. Every single eye in that crowd was going to scrutinize your every move on that stage.

“Calm down,” a voice whispers harshly from beside you. “You’re making me nervous.”

Kevin wraps his fingers around your wrist, stopping the annoying tap-tap-tap your own were doing against your thigh. He gives you a look, and you sigh. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

That’s a lie. Not only was the high expectations from the entire school getting to you, but so was the fear of history repeating itself. He knows this, it was inevitable. After what happened the last time he was tasked with lifting you, it was only natural.

”We’ve drilled this dance hundreds, if not thousands, of times, Y/N. We’ll do just fine.” Kevin assures you.

His hand feels foreign holding yours, like it was illegal for his skin to be touching your own. You feel your lower lip quiver, a sense of trepidation that you’ve never once felt creeping down your spine. Your mind was spiraling, and quite honestly, Kevin being so close was making it worse. All you could think about was him dropping you again, leaving you in the middle of the stage with a broken leg and a broken heart. You release a shaky breath and he turns to face you.

Your eyes widen and he searches your face for any disingenuity. When he finds his answer, he brings the hand that was holding yours up to cup your cheek. He’s cautious, afraid he might break you like he always does. He waits for you to shove him away and to yell at him for being a fucking coward.

You don’t. You stay still, hoping he follows through with what you think he’s about to do. And then he does.

It’s such a featherlight peck of his lips on your own, you almost don’t even register. But sparks shoot from the source all the way to the tips of your fingers. You feel as if you were dealt a static shock of electricity, your whole body buzzing from the small kiss alone.

He pulls away just in time for the stage manager to inform you that you’re next. Kevin rolls his neck jogging over to the wings to patiently await your performance like he hadn’t just kissed you a moment ago. You blink dumbly, two fingers coming up to touch where his lips had been. Sure the nerves were gone now, but the sensation of butterflies swarming about in your stomach easily replaced that. What the fuck was his problem?

“Our last performance is one I’m sure all of you have been waiting for. Kevin Moon and Y/N L/N with Partition!”

Before you know it, you and Kevin are in position, your body squared upstage and his to the crowd. Your eyes are closed, but you can feel his arm wrapped around your waist and his steady breathing on your nose. The spotlight switches on, the heat of the lighting warm against the side of your face. It’s silent in the auditorium, but it rings in your ears. You could do this.

Let me hear you say ‘Hey Miss Carter’…

You move on reflex, muscle memory kicking in instantaneously. Each circle of your hips, every turn you make— a fouetté here, a pirouette there, a couple coupes, each roll of your body. But what really gets you is the long brushes of Kevin’s skin on your own. You’d practiced with distance between the two of you. There was a tension that had been there for years. Now it’s all coming to a rolling boil, a new uncharted tension that every single member in that audience could see.

And then comes the lift.

You, along with everybody in the auditorium, practically hold your breath when Kevin’s hands grip your hips. He raises you above him with all of his strength, completely focused on you and only you. You shut your eyes and feel the moment, like, really feel it. Your body is relaxed, the Dirty Dancing-esque lift bringing the whole performance together just like you knew it would. The only difference from the movie and real life is the fact that you’re flipped, your backside to Kevin and your chest to the ceiling.

Your eyes flutter open, the spotlight all but blinding you, and you finally feel content. Like everything has fallen into the right place for once in your life. Especially so when Kevin sets you down gently and you finish your dance with the utmost confidence.

The crowd erupts into a roaring chorus of applause, going as far as giving you a standing ovation. Holy shit. You pulled it off. You actually managed to pull it off.

Your face feels like it might split from how big your smile is. You and Kevin bow, walking off stage. You’re entirely too happy right now, a newfound energy overtaking you as you trail behind him.

“We did it!” You cheer as you follow him towards the dressing room where your things are. You’re the only ones left backstage, everyone else filtering out between performances. Kevin doesn’t give you much of a response, just a small nod of acknowledgment. Your smile falters. “What the hell is your problem?”

”Nothing, Y/N, fuck. Can you just mind your own fucking business?” He snaps, turning around to glare at you just as the door slams behind you. You instinctively flinch at both loud noises. His features soften but you take a step back from him.

You aren’t sure why you’re surprised. This isn’t anything new. Kevin has always made it crystal clear that he wasn’t your number one fan. Being neutral for your performance wasn’t enough to repair all the holes in whatever your relationship was, and you should’ve known better. You shouldn’t have let your guard down so easily. You should’ve expected this. Old dogs can never learn new tricks.

But Kevin’s scared. He’s afraid of letting you in after all the mess he’s put you through. The only thing he’s good at doing is hurting you, over and over like there was a prize that came out of it.

”Look…”

”No, you listen to me,” you swallow heavily, tears already tight lining your eyes. “Kevin, I have taken so much shit from you. Over these past few years I have just sat there and let you unload all your fucked up insecurities onto me. Have you ever wondered why? Have you ever thought to stop and think about why I let you be so mean to me without even questioning it?”

He says nothing, just stares with his lips parted. They open and close like a fish out of water, words there at the tip of his tongue but refusing to make their escape. And then one of your tears rolls down your cheeks and he’s directly in front you, his heart on his sleeve for the first time since you’ve met him.

”Why?” The simple question is so quiet, you almost don’t hear him. But his eyes hold so much hurt, so much anguish that you’ve never seen in a person before.

“I’ve had feelings for you for so long, it’s actually starting to ache. You’ve only ever seen me as this thing, this obstacle. And I’m afraid that that’s all I’ll ever be to you, because you won’t let me be anything else. You won’t—“

”That’s not true, Y/N,” Kevin sighs, looking off to the side, away from you. “I just— it’s complicated. It’s more than just being rivals.”

”So help me understand,” you frown. “Let me in, please.”

”My entire life I’ve had to work to get to where I am. I’ve fought tooth and nail to be as good of a performer as I am today. There were so many hoops I had to go through to even get into this program and— and I thought I’d finally become the best I could be. I thought that there was no way anyone could ever be better than me. And then you showed up. You and your pretty smile and your natural ability to be the best at everything you do. It was like you were the real life manifestation of all of my critics, of every challenge I faced to get here. Where I had to practice day and night to perfect something, it just came to you like second nature. During Princess and the Pauper, when I dropped you, it truly was an accident. But we’d spent so much time nailing it, that it— I just made myself feel better by saying it was your fault. ‘How could it have been my fault if I perfected it?’ I was jealous and petty and it was just easier to blame hating— to blame my indifference on you spilling coffee on my stupid shirt. For that, I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what you were waiting to hear, but it wasn’t that. Your tears turn into full on blubbering, because what the fuck? That’s so much burden for someone to carry on their shoulders for three years.

“Why are you— why are you crying?” He flounders, reaching up to swipe away your tears.

“I wish I knew… I wish I could’ve helped you somehow,” you sniffle. “Kev, I’ve always admired you and your work ethic. I hoped one day I’d be half as disciplined as you, half as determined.”

He blinks. You’re both dumb, aren’t you? Too focused on the wrong things. You both could’ve been a lot less hateful, a lot less miserable, had you just spoken your differences out. This entire rivalry has been completely one sided, but also built off of plain stupidity and ignorance. He supposes it’s not too late to make amends if you aren’t running in the opposite direction despite everything he’s put you through.

Kevin leans forward, hand still pressed to your cheek, and connects your lips softly. He’s testing the waters, making sure you’re comfortable before he continues anything. When you don’t back away just yet, he adds more force, deepening the kiss like a man starved. You whine against his lips.

This is what you’ve been wanting from him. More than what he gave you before your performance, but not what happened in the studio a few weeks ago. This desperation isn’t abashed lust, it’s unbridled affection— it’s everything he’s holed inside of himself for years, unwilling to let it see the light of day until now. If you were to label anything as perfection, it wouldn’t be a dance or a moment on stage, it would be this. Just you and Kevin finally bringing yourselves together in the most intimately emotional union.

He pulls you closer to him, hands sliding down to grasp at your waist, bunching up the thin fabric of your leotard. You can’t help but bury your fingers in his hair, tugging when he nips at your lower lip. A gasp permeates the air when his mouth travels south, along your jaw and down the side of your neck. He bites and sucks the tender skin at the base of your throat, ensuring he leaves his mark on you. This time isn’t careless, this time he has purpose. He wants everybody to know that you’re his, that you’re the only person insane enough to put up with him.

Your breathing is shaky when you reach behind you to lock the dressing room, dragging him over to the long vanity adjacent to you. He slots between your legs when you hoist yourself onto the surface. He pecks your lips and pauses his movements, rubbing up and down your thighs. In the dim, yellow lighting of the room, you look so gorgeous. He’s always thought you were beautiful, the most stunning thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, but he’s repressed it for so long. He wants to take his time staring at what he’s avoided.

”You’re so pretty,” he says quietly, kissing you again and again and again. “I don’t think I can last long with you.”

“Can we skip the foreplay?” You ask, bottom lip jutted into a pout. “Need you to just fuck me like you mean it.”

Kevin’s forehead falls to your shoulder with a groan. “I don’t deserve you,” God, he’s such an idiot for holding out from this. You should’ve been given the world and so much more. He has a lot of lost time to make up for. He kisses your shoulder with a sigh. “Yeah, baby, I can do that.”

You don’t waste another second, slipping your arms through the sleeves of your leotard. He has to bite down on his tongue when he sees that you’re braless, fingers going slack as they unbutton the rest of his silk shirt. You shimmy out of the one piece, left in nothing but the fishnet stockings you wore underneath and your lacy panties. Kevin thinks he must’ve done at least something right in a past life to experience this.

Your eyes sparkle as you look up at him, undoing his slacks and kicking them down his legs with your feet. Something takes over him when he rips a bigger hole in your stockings, pushing your underwear to the side. His thumb glides through your folds with ease, your slick providing enough lubricant. He pushes your lower lips apart while you busy yourself shoving his underwear to his ankles.

His cock slips inside of you with less friction than he would’ve thought, but he doesn’t complain, screwing his eyes shut as he acclimates to the feeling of your walls surrounding him. You moan, such a soft sound that he nearly loses his balance.

“You feel so good, baby,” he coos, digging his fingers into your hips as he rocks his own. “You’re so so perfect.”

The praise is too much for you, given the circumstances. Your brain is already cloudy, stuffed with what could only be described as cotton. You watch with half lidded eyes as he begins to piston into you at a faster speed. This all feels like a fever dream, something that was only possible in your craziest fantasies. Even then, it seemed unlikely.

“‘M close, Kev,” you whine, unable to stay still and attempting to match his thrusts.

“Already? We’ve only just started, gorgeous.” He laughs, but it’s breathy, strained from the exertion of his body. You hardly have the strength in you to be embarrassed about it, especially since he’s seen you in much worse situations.

You nod frantically, snaking a hand between you to circle your clit with nimble fingers. Kevin halts you and pulls out momentarily, sliding his cock between your folds like it was your hand. The tip catches your sensitive bundle of nerves repeatedly, making you dizzier than you already were.

He presses back into you with ease, resuming his sloppy but animalistic pace. He uses his thumb to continue your handywork, your cunt fluttering around him needily. You’re both losing your sanity quickly, both going batshit insane over the bare minimum. You’ve just needed this for so long, yearned for this moment for a humiliating amount of time.

Your moans start to rise in pitch and he groans. “Fuck, baby, you can cum for me.”

He could cry, he thinks, when your back arches and your legs shake with your orgasm. It hits you like a freight train, triggering his own release just as fast.

You stay like that for a bit, regaining yourselves and comprehending everything that’s just happened. So much for the whole hating each other narrative.

“What does this mean for us?” You suddenly ask, arms hooked around Kevin’s neck. You’re still connected by your lower halves, but he makes no effort to pull away. Part of you likes it that way, it gives you hope that this isn’t a one time affair.

“It’ll be hard for things to change overnight,” he says, massaging your sides. “We have a lot of unresolved issues and insecurities that we still have to push past. But I’m willing to do that with you. I want to take a chance on us.”

Your lips pull into a smile, an expression you don’t think you’ve worn around him genuinely in the years you’ve known him. “I do, too.”

“It’s kind of ironic that it was a performance that tore us apart and brought us back together, don’t you think?” He laughs.

“And we fucked in the dressing room…” You add, glancing to the top corner where a security camera is stationed.

“Maybe we should get out of here before someone checks the footage,” he suggests. “Tau Beta Zeta is conveniently hosting our end of semester party tonight, do you wanna be my plus one?”

“I would be honored.” You grin, pecking his lips tenderly.

Perhaps happy endings existed after all.

#deoboyznet #the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz kevin #tbz kevin #kevin moon x reader #kevin moon smut #kevin x reader #kevin smut #moon hyungseo #blackoutorbackout🍻#juyeonszn

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abarbaricyalp · 23 days

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Written for the @sambuckylibrary Anniversary Event! Y'all don't even know how many of these "no-power" stories I started for this prompt. Instead I hunkered down and finished one of my favorite (and oldest) WIPs (What is the life of a writer, if not creating four WIPs for every one finished?)

CW: blood and injury There is also glib discussion of limb loss by Bucky throughout.

Yeah the title is from that one poster. You know the one.

Hanging In There 🐱

Bucky Barnes was very good at free climbing. (Yes, even with the prosthetic arm, thank you very much, terrible-gym-trainer.) Mostly because he'd taken up free climbing after he was situated with the arm. It had become his ongoing PT and his proof of freedom. Once he'd gone a few months without flattening himself on the gym floor, everyone in his life (so, his sister Becca and his best friend Steve) finally left him alone when he was doing other things. So long as he could scale rock walls, he could do his own grocery shopping.

He got as much of a kick out of watching people's reactions to him climb with a prosthesis as he did from watching them finally work up the courage to tentatively ask if he lost his arm climbing. His answer changed depending on what mood he was in or the elevation he'd stopped at if he was outside. "Sure, it got caught in a rock shift. I had to cut it off with a pocket knife." "Yeah, I put my hand in a hole and got bitten by some poisonous reptile. Lost the whole thing." "Actually I fell off a cliff and ripped the whole thing off when I tried to get some purchase on the way down." He'd lost it in the line of duty overseas, but nosy people always managed to miss the dog tags around his neck.

The point was, Bucky was really good at free climbing. He'd been doing it for years now. He thought he knew his body better now than he did when he joined up with the military in the first place.

This was all his cat's fault.

No, that wasn't fair. This was all some other cat's fault. Some street cat rascal had gotten Alpine pregnant and Bucky was just trying to see who it was. Plus maybe figure out who was so irresponsible to let their cat roam. And, no. Alpine getting out to meet with this cat Casanova was not the same thing as someone being irresponsible because she slipped out the window by knocking the plastic accordion of the window AC unit out of the way. Bucky hadn't let her out. He was not an intentionally irresponsible cat dad. He was just a new cat dad. Who even knew he’d have to cat-proof window units?

He'd been watching her ever since he'd found out she was pregnant. He fully planned on following her to whatever back alley she met Tom O'Malley in. When Alpine had climbed out his window and perched on the wide railing of his balcony, he'd figured she was going to jump down the fire escape to the ground and carry on. Instead, she walked across the narrow decorative ledge of his building and he...

Well, he followed on instinct. That was the plan, right? Follow his cat to the culprit?

He could not stress how much he wasn't thinking in the moment.

The building wasn't that tall. He was on the fourth floor and the bottom floor was only a half floor. Still, Bucky wasn't imagining the wind tugging at his clothes as he crept along the narrow ledge after Alpine, who was not doing anything to wait for Bucky.

"Al," he hissed, making a small jump from the end of one apartment's ledge to the next. He knew his neighbor and hoped she wasn't home. She wasn't usually but his luck was not cooperating today. "Al, get back here. You had your fun night. I'm over this."

Bucky skirted across the neighbor's balcony and onto the next ledge. This one was a little different, wider but more broken up into pieces. More like a rock wall. The only problem was that there were no decorative pieces at hand level. And he wasn't wearing his prosthetic arm. If he missed a step or one of these bricks gave way, he was definitely falling.

Alpine gracefully jumped down a floor, using a drain pipe to launch herself sideways onto someone's balcony.

"Alpine!" Bucky called with a new wave of frustration. The balcony was close enough that Bucky could probably make the jump. It would be mostly falling anyway. He could land on the railing and stumble his way forward.

The only problem would be that he'd definitely alert whoever was in the apartment and he wasn't sure he'd be able to talk, or climb, his way out of that conversation. He crept closer to the other balcony, eyeing the drop and wishing he'd worn better shoes. He was just as liable to break an ankle as he was to miss the balcony.

Alpine pawed at the sliding door of the balcony and a black-and-white cat appeared on the other side of it, used its head to nudge the door open. Alpine and the cat rubbed heads and then disappeared into the apartment together.

"Are you kidding me?" Bucky asked the wind.

He looked down at the street below, thankful they weren't on the busy side of the building. Then again, that meant it was less likely someone would see him flatten himself and therefore less likely someone would call for help.

There were not many times in his climbing journey that he felt the need to leap from one spot to the other. Sure, the occasional shift a foot or so to a different grip hold, but not like this. He braced his feet against the ledge, testing his weight out and shifting it forward.

He leapt without thinking about it anymore than that.

When he crashed through the balcony, his brain was very confused about what happened. He'd hit something solid. He was still falling. His knee ached. His other knee was in his face. Something was soaking through his sock and shoes.

He realized his forearm was flat against the balcony and he tried to lift himself up, out of the hole he’d put in the wooden floor. But he couldn’t make his legs follow commands, couldn’t free the one stuck on the wood, being held up at an odd angle by his jeans, couldn’t swing the other one back to make momentum. Then the pain really set in, along with some panic. Bucky couldn't right himself, couldn't sit, could barely move, all of which meant he couldn't take stock of what was happening around him. His leg hurt. The pain was soaking into his brain until he couldn't think about anything else.

Then, to add insult to injury, the most beautiful man Bucky had ever seen came running out the door to the balcony and almost tripped over him. The cats followed him out. Alpine, the traitor, didn't even look concerned.

"What the hell?" his neighbor asked. Belatedly, Bucky saw the baseball bat in his hand. And, like, one that had been used in the field of play and left no comforting possibility that the man wouldn't actually use it on him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Well, right now, I'm just hanging out," Bucky answered without knowing where the sarcasm came from since most of his brain was focused on the terror that he was about to lose his leg too.

"Are you trying to break in?" the man asked and curled his fingers around the bat again.

"Me, rob you?" Bucky asked in disbelief. "That's my cat that you're clearly trying to steal," he argued with a nod to Alpine. "And your terrible Tom got her pregnant on top of it!"

"That's your cat?" the man asked. "Do you ever pay attention to her? She's here all the time. I posted ‘Found: Cat’ posters downstairs and didn't get a response."

"You did not!" Bucky snapped. "Can you just..." He gestured to the fact that he was continually slipping further through the hole he'd crashed through in the balcony. Or...no. He did this. He crashed a hole through someone's balcony. Could this day get any worse?

The man tossed the bat inside and the cats disappeared after the noise to investigate. He kneeled beside Bucky, holding onto his elbow and maneuvering Bucky around to peer through the hole.

"Your leg is pretty torn up," he warned. "I think it's best if I just call for an ambulance. I don't want to agitate any wounds. I have gauze but not extra blood."

It took Bucky too long to realize that was a joke. Hopefully. "Come on, man. Just help me up. I'll be fine."

"You are literally dripping blood onto the next balcony," the man insisted. And then he seemed to realize his hand was flat on Bucky's ribs and not on his left arm. He blanched and his wide eyes met Bucky's.

"Don't worry," Bucky assured. "It was missing before I jumped. It disappeared on me earlier."

To his credit, the neighbor's shock switched to vaguely irked in a single breath and without any follow up questions. He looked at Bucky's leg again and heaved out a long suffering sigh before disappearing into the apartment again.

Alpine and her paramour took the man's place in the doorway, watching Bucky with a pitying and disdainful look, respectively. "This is your fault," Bucky told Alpine. Or maybe the black and white cat. Really, it was that cat's fault.

The neighbor came back with an armful of supplies, including some really nice 2x4s that he laid across the balcony, balancing them on the unimpaired metal frame. He also had a medical kit that needed a duffle bag to be lugged around.

"Were you military?" Bucky asked.

The neighbor startled a little and his fingers passed over what Bucky could assume was an insignia patch on the other side of the bag. "Yeah, Air Force. Pararescue. Sam, by the way. You?"

"Army. Bucky," Bucky said. "Not in that order."

"Explains the whole--" Sam gestured to his left side.

"Well, if you figured that out on your own, how am I supposed to test out my new stories on you?"

Sam shook his head as he laid out a variety of supplies just inside the threshold of his apartment. "You and my partner would've gotten along. He had this scar on his face. Dog bite when he was a kid. But he made up stories all the livelong day about it."

"You get tired of the truth eventually," Bucky explained. "It's never good enough for anyone anyway."

Sam glanced over at him, brown eyes a little calculating for a moment. But he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he got his hands on Bucky's ribs again. "You need to help me here. I don't have a lot of leverage and we're gonna be fighting against the splintered boards."

Bucky nodded and braced his forearm against one of the boards Sam had brought out. Despite his concerns, Sam was just about strong enough to pull Bucky free on his own, which was both mortifying and also incredibly hot. Pieces of the balcony clattered to the one below as Bucky pulled his legs up behind him.

The pain started as soon as he was sure he was safely on the 2x4s. He hissed and reached for his knee like he could stave off the pain signals that way.

"Do you mind if I cut your jeans away?" Sam asked. "Just the legs. You can keep your modesty."

"I have no dignity left, so go for it," Bucky sighed. He leaned back against the railing of the balcony and watched Sam carefully cut through his favorite jeans. His leg was a gross, bloody mess but it didn't make Bucky flinch and Sam didn't flinch either. He imagined they’d both seen much worse.

"You should go to the hospital," Sam repeated as he cleared some blood away. He had nice fingers, Bucky realized, instead of listening to his admonishments. They were almost long enough to wrap around Bucky's calf and he was so sure with his movements as he wiped Bucky's leg down with a concentrate of alcohol that was definitely higher than what they sold at the bodega. His nails were maintained, but still a little dirty and rough from work. Like the rest of him: just effortlessly endearing and gorgeous.

"Why do you have random pieces of wood in your apartment?" he asked finally as Sam began to wrap bandages around his knee.

Sam looked down at his temporary floor. "I was going to redo the balcony. So, thanks for this, I guess.”

Bucky gave a lazy kind of wave and then dropped his arm over his eyes. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my day either. I can help you with repairs. Pay for whatever else you need.”

“That’s more helpful than the maintenance guys have been,” Sam said. “I told them all this wood was rotten.”

“Yeah, you shoulda seen how long it took them to come look at my sink drain. I was scooping it out and pouring it down the shower for months,” Bucky agreed.

Sam groaned in sympathy, but didn’t look up from where he was now searching for large splinters. He had eyelashes longer than Bucky’s forearm, it seemed like. And cheekbones that were made to be seen from this angle. Of all the balconies in New York that he could’ve crashed on, why did he have to embarrass himself in front of a model?

Nah, even better than a model. Real and handsome and touchable.

“Wait, did you say partner?” Bucky asked suddenly.

Sam’s long eyelashes fluttered as he looked up and graced Bucky with those eyes again. “What? I didn’t say anything”

“No, earlier. You said your partner has a scar on their face.”

“Oh. Yeah. Riley,” Sam said and closed up a little bit.

“Are they going to be mad that there’s a stranger stuck in your balcony?”

“You’re not stuck anymore,” Sam pointed out. “I just don’t want you to bleed in my apartment.” He ran another cloth soaked with alcohol across Bucky’s leg and then pulled out a huge roll of gauze. “Riley was my flight partner in the Air Force. I mean. He was my partner-partner too. But I don’t think he’s gonna have much to say about you breaking the balcony.”

“Oh. You broke up,” Bucky surmised. “I just thought… The way you talked about him so easily… Sorry,” he added.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him but just gestured for Bucky to hold the edge of the gauze against his leg and proceeded to give Bucky the tightest, most fine wrapped bandages of Bucky’s life. They hadn’t done this well with bandages after he lost his arm.

“God, you were like rescue-pararescue,” Bucky said, like an idiot. What did that even mean. “I mean, we all got triage training, but you’re actually good at it.”

Sam snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, it was part of the job,” he agreed. He tapped off the gauze and then stood, making sure to step inside his apartment before letting himself sit back on his full weight.

Bucky leaned back a little and stared up at him. This was a fantastic angle.

“Come on, give me your hand,” he said, offering his down to Bucky. “Gotta get you off the balcony before my downstairs neighbor really starts to wonder what’s going on.”

Bucky took Sam’s hand and let him pull him to his feet, hopping over off the balcony to the apartment flooring. Only, as soon as he put his weight on his unhurt leg, that leg entirely went out from him. He fell against Sam’s chest and both he and Sam reached for the couch behind them to keep from falling over. The couch scooted back another inch, but it held steady after.

Bucky stared at Sam’s mouth because he was at the exact right level for it. But Sam was staring at him too, dark eyes wide, breath warm over Bucky’s face. His hand was on Bucky’s waist.

“Uh…I think I hurt my ankle too,” Bucky offered.

Sam took half a step backwards, scooting the couch again to do so, and helped Bucky find his unstable footing. Bucky balanced on one foot and his toes. Then Sam sank down to one knee and Bucky basically lost all coherent brain function entirely. He lifted Bucky’s pant leg and then sucked in a breath so sharply, the air whistled through the gap in his front teeth.

“Yeah, man. I think you broke it,” he confirmed. “You really need to go to the hospital.”

Bucky groaned and hobbled around Sam to lean on his couch. “It really looks that bad?”

“Are you attached to these shoes?” he asked.

“Yeah, kinda. Why?” They were just Vans, but he hated spending money on shoes (unless they were good boots, or dance shoes).

“Because your shoe may need to be cut off with the way the ankle’s swelling.”

Bucky dropped his head back and groaned like that was going to solve anything. It didn’t really matter. He’d seen how messy the other one had gotten from the blood, so it’s not like he was keeping this pair anyway. When he lifted his head again, Sam was standing there, looking like he was waiting on Bucky for something.

Bucky put on his best pathetic wet cat eyes. “Any chance you drive?” he asked. “I really don’t want to call an ambulance. You know VA insurance doesn’t cover shit.”

Sam’s eyebrow rose. “A man ruins my balcony, bleeds all over my things, accuses my cat of getting his cat pregnant–in fact, accuses me of stealing his cat–and now he wants to ask a favor after I stopped him from bleeding out or falling to his further grisly demise,” he summarized.

“A man will take you out to dinner?” Bucky offered. “As many times as you like?”

Sam stared at him for a moment longer before he relented. “I have discerning tastes,” he warned. “It’s gonna take a while for you to find a place that’s good enough.”

Bucky read directly into that and he grinned, triumphant. “Well, I have very good tastes,” he said. “But I’m gonna start off shitty just to keep you coming back.”

Sam rolled his beautiful eyes, but he was smiling and if Bucky liked his face before, he really loved it when he was smiling. “I’ll take you to the hospital, but don’t expect me to sit there and wait.”

“I think you should,” Bucky tempted. As he watched Sam gather his keys–and, fuck, Bucky’s door was locked and his keys were inside, he was going to have to call Steve to bring the extra–he limped to the door. The promise of Sam coming behind him was enough to keep the pain from taking up too many of his thoughts. Sam was firmly entrenched there.

“Why’s that?” Sam asked. He opened the door for Bucky and ushered him out.

“Because when they ask me what happened and I tell them I fell for the most beautiful man in the world, I’m gonna need the proof.”

“Oh my God,” Sam groaned, rolling his eyes again and smiling even brighter. “I should’ve checked you for a concussion. Lemme make sure your pupils aren't actually heart-shaped right now.”

“This is a perfectly normal reaction to fate literally throwing you into my life,” Bucky defended.

“Fate threw you into mine,” Sam corrected. “You’re the one who fell out of the sky like an omen.”

“An omen?” Bucky asked, affronted. “An angel.”

“Definitely not.”

They waited for the elevator in silence for a few seconds, Bucky leaning on Sam’s side to take some weight off of his leg. Then, just as the elevator dinged its approach, Sam said, “By the way, you're wrong about my cat. He's been fixed for years. Some other cat got your cat pregnant."

Bucky almost missed the elevator as he stared at Sam, who had stepped into it, in shock. Sam caught the door and Bucky quickly followed him in. “This was all for nothing? Why was she in your apartment?”

“I told you, she comes all the time. I think she likes Fig’s food. Besides,” Sam nudged an elbow into Bucky’s side. “I wouldn’t say it was for nothing.”

“‘Cause we met each other?” Bucky finished for him with a pleased grin. “Givin’ me all the warm and fuzzies, Sam.”

“Nah, ‘cause now I’ve got a reason to finally start on my balcony. And some volunteer guilt labor too.” He clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and hit the button for the garage level. “We’ll see about anything else fate might have gifted us later.”

Who knew, Bucky wondered, that fate was a cat.

#sambucky #bucky barnes #sam wilson #captain america #sambucky fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier #writing #tfatws

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mysticalsoot · 7 months

Text

reconciliation and forgiveness

part 2 of 'peer pressure and canned beer' // bs au

➸ note; so- it's not Halloween themed but it is a fic I've been procrastinating finishing for five months (basically no motivation for it-) but it's now complete and I have some more wips for this au that I'm working on!! i couldn't keep it to myself any longer so- yeah here I am!! also!! please let me know if you want to be added to the bs au taglist or my main taglist

➸ pairing; bs!au wilbur gold/soot x gn!reader

➸ summary; after convincing from your other crew trainer and a couple weeks of a break; you finally decide to talk it out with wilbur on what happened that night (can be read as standalone but context from part 1 would be good as well!)

➸ warning; angst, hurt/comfort, I easily forgive Wilbur, that's my own problem, kissing, mentions of being drunk/hungover, probably swearing, tension but not good tension

➸ age-rating; 15+

➸ wordcount; 2.9k

part 1

main masterlist

---

Your hope somehow turned into a manifestation, and thankfully, Wilbur got stuck in sickbay--after Grace had dragged him there, of course following a very very long drawn out lecture that he most definitely deserved. You wanted to lay in bed and rot, you didn't want to talk to anyone, speak a single word or even open your eyes. You managed to get away with that for the first half of the day, and you hummed when you felt the bed dip beside you. Your dad was here.

"Kiddo.. how are you feeling?" You open your eyes, watching as his lips curl into a solemn smile.

"I'm not the one with a hangover." Your tone is flat and dry, you could care less for inflection at this moment. You'd rather be left alone to wither away to dust, but your dad is insistent. He isn't going to let go, he'll want to be there for you, and he always has.

"Yeah, well, when he's out of sickbay I'm going to have a talk with him and then his parents," He pats your knee, sighing before looking down and folding his hands in his lap.

"Is he.." Your voice falters as you take a deep breath and curl onto your side, "Will he get in trouble?"

Your dad shrugs, looks over at you and let's a soft smile curl on his lips before speaking, "A bit. He did break curfew, sneak out and consume alcohol. But I do know him, and I know it wasn't his idea. I'm not going to punish him as if it was his idea."

"You know it was- It was them, right?" Your father nods at your inquiry.

"It was obvious that it was, this isn't the first time they've pulled such a thing," he pauses, thinking for a moment, he rubs your hair and then sighs, “I think you should go ahead to breakfast, yeah?”

He stands up, nodding at you, bidding to see you later before leaving the room. You groan in annoyance before standing up and heading to your dorm to change. It doesn't take you longer than a few minutes to do so, not bothering with your hair before shutting your dorm door and hurrying down the stairs.

It's a Saturday morning, at least lucky for you. And perhaps for Wil too. He stays in sickbay and doesn't miss any classes. You don't have any classes to attend and you can just flee back to your room to rot, like you intended to.

Your mind sort of shuts down on the walk over to the cafeteria, numb of thoughts and feelings as your eyes drop carelessly. It's relatively bare of students, which isn't a surprise for eight in the morning on a Saturday, most kids wake up around nine or ten and don't bother to eat until lunchtime.

Unlucky for you, you're a morning bird and so is Andy. So even if you didn't sleep in his and your father's dorm, you'd still wake up to have breakfast with him.

The moment you step into line, grabbing your tray after you sanitized your hands, your mind then fell to thoughts of Wil. Mornings where you'd both stand in line and talking about everything and nothing while grabbing your food and sitting down together. Laughing and smiling and going about your days together. Something you can't quite do now, and you aren't sure if you even want to. Do you even want to be around him?

It's a valid question that you asked yourself, although you're sure in a week you'll have forgiven him and forgotten about last night. But for the moment, you feel more hurt and angry than he's ever made you. Maybe it's the fact he let himself get pressured, or maybe it's that he didn't stop May from kissing him or the words he used when you tried to help him. It was probably a combination of things, but lucky for him you can't seem to be angry at him for long.

Your tray fills up, or at least somewhat. The star hashbrowns and the pancakes shaped as moons seem to be your choice for the morning. You find a seat at your usual place, staring out the large windows and watching students and teachers walk by. Some museum guests too, admiring the newly remodeled Pathfinder. It only took them four or so years to get it fixed, so might as well admire their work.

What feels like miliseconds but was probably minutes passes by, and Andy fits a seat in front of you, smiling softly with almost a hint of sadness to it.

"How are you feeling?" He speaks so gently, like you were a kicked puppy completely incapable of doing anything.

"Why do people keep fucking asking me that? I'm fucking fine," You seethe, and you catch a glimpse of Andy almost flinching and then his mouth curves down into a frown, "Sorry," you mumble the simple apology, looking down and sighing.

"I'm just worried about you, kiddo. Y'know? We all are," He almost reaches forward to rest his hand on yours, but he holds back realizing it may not be the best idea. Words will simply have to do.

"Everyone heard, huh?" you scoff, rolling your eyes at the thought as you mess with your pancakes, not bothering to eat them quite yet.

Andy nods gingerly, "The whole floor probably."

"That's my fault, I shouldn't have provoked a drunk guy," you put down your fork, glancing up at Andy as he gazes at you, worry etched on his features.

"It's no one's fault, okay? It happened and things will be handled accordingly. Your father and I have a meeting with Evan and Cati, and the trainers for that other team. Hopefully we'll come to an agreement on what happened before we get leadership involved," He takes a bite of his own food after speaking, hoping that it'll somehow indirectly encourage you to eat. It's worked before, so why not now?

"Keep dad in check for me, yeah?" A soft smirk plays on your lips at the thought, your dad can be decently protective of his kids and sometimes gets a bit heated. He's a good teacher though, and Ethan is the same way. Cati and Andy have a handful today.

"I'll do my best, lucky for me, he's short and easily containable," He pauses, sucking in a breath as his eyebrows raise, "Mostly."

He keeps quiet for a while, watching you every now and then as you slowly eat your breakfast. Your mind wanders where it shouldn't, dabbling in thoughts that should never see the light of day, but yet they do.

Thoughts and regrets bubble up, swirling together in a dangerous concoction. Maybe you should have just kept your mouth shut. Or perhaps it would've been best if you fought him on going. The mature thing to do is to talk to Wilbur, get it over with and come to a kind agreement. But what you want to do is never speak to him again. You know you're probably being overdramatic. That it isn't worth your breath to ponder over it or be so pissed off about the situation. It wastes more energy than it's worth. Yet you can't help it, you're hurt and you're angry and all you want to do is scream at the moment.

"You should go visit Wilbur, talk to him," Andy finally speaks up, his tray already taken care of and the team's teacher binder set in front of him.

"I don't think it's a good idea," A deep sigh slips past your lips as you chew on a hashbrown you grabbed a moment ago.

"You'll never know if you don't try," He pauses, hesitating and thinking over whatever he has planned to say next, "It may be your last time to see him in person for a while. He's probably going to be suspended."

You weigh the thought in your mind, considering his words and your own thoughts and worries. It takes you a few minutes before you nod, surrendering, "Okay, fine," you let out a gentle breath, playing with your food again.

Andy smiles, nodding before standing up and taking his binder with him. He begins to walk away before stopping beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder to encourage you to meet his eyes. You do.

"I love you, kiddo. Remember that," His lips curve up softly, a warm smile meant for you. The intention meant to solidify his words. He loves you, and you're thankful of that.

"I know," you smile softly, nodding as you keep your gaze up at him, "I love you too."

He nods again, patting your shoulder before walking away and then you're left with your thoughts yet again. Letting them run wild won't do you much good, even if wallowing and rotting seems the most appealing, it isn't the best plan of action. So you take a deep breath, and stand up, walking over to take care of your tray. You run your fingers over the concrete walls, letting your mind numb itself for the walk over to sick bay.

You pray and hope this isn't a bad idea, that Wilbur won't be against seeing you. That he won't view you in the way he seemed to last night. That he'll hear you out for once and perhaps rectify what he messed up. You have responsibility in the matter as well, and you have every plan to apologize yourself. Where you can, at the least.

It's fall now, the chilly air filling your lungs and what leaves have changed now fall from selective trees. Alabama Octobers are like that, selective in its weather and what leaves fall, and what trees turn. But it's nice, it's relaxing and it gives something different even if it's annoying.

You pass underneath the Pathfinder, gazing up at it as you venture through the courtyard it's placed in. There's not many students out today, or at this hour at the least. But a few wander the campus, speaking amongst one another. A few couples make out behind bushes or behind aircraft. You turn into the covered opening, pushing the door open and entering sick bay.

A younger nurse sits at the desk and looks up at you, "What can I do for you, hun?" Her smile is sweet and soft, it's welcoming and she seems decently spry for how early it is.

"I'm here to visit Wilbur Gold?" Your voice lilts at the end, raising in question as you fidget with your fingers.

"He's over there, bunk two," she smiles and nods and you make your way over, knocking on the walls separating the bunk areas.

"Hi," you whisper, eyes glancing down at Wilbur where he sits on the bottom bunk. He looks up at you, eyes widening in a combination of shock and worry.

"Hey," he mumbles in return, putting down the textbook he had in hand and shutting it.

You hold your breath for a moment, mind wandering for a few more seconds as you wonder what to say and then it slips out, "I'm sorry, about last night."

You step into the small bunk room, fingers wringing together and tapping your fingertips together. He shakes his head, a wry laugh let out at your words.

"It's not your fault,"

You stop him short, "but I did antagonize you."

For some reason that you cant quite place, you don't have it in you to be angry, and instead you're just in a state of guilt. You should have stopped him from going, even if it wasn't your job to protect him.

"So? I was the drunk asshole who kissed another girl. I'm sorry, y/n. It's my fault." He pats the spot beside him, pulling his legs up against his chest to make room for you on the small bunk.

You keep quiet, not sure what else to say as you take a seat on the other side of the bunk, keeping your gaze on the wall. Wilbur mirrors your silence, chewing on his lip, his eyes boring into the side of your face.

"I'm only getting a two week suspension," he finally breaks the silence, trying desperately to grasp at something, anything with you.

You nod softly, taking in a deep breath, you turn to him yet don't make eye contact, "Good," you stop again, standing and beginning to walk out.

"I forgive you, but- I need a bit. if that's okay?" You step through the doorway, over the threshold and turn the corner. Wilbur doesn't respond, he just lets the vacant sound of your footsteps retreating out of sickbay.

He doesn't know what he'll do with himself when he's gone, yet he's sure some wallowing will be involved.

You, on the other hand, spend the rest of the day hiding away in the Davidson center. Wilbur is on the other side of campus, packing for his two week suspension back at home. You're sure his parents had a few colorful words for him once they were called and that you were right about. His father had more things to say than his mom, of anything his dad wasn't as aware as her on how susceptible Wilbur could be to peer pressure. Wil wasn't sure if his dad even knew him anymore, and sometimes you wonder if you would have felt the same, if your dad hadn't adopted you. Maybe Charlie feels that way.

You kept to yourself for the following two weeks, talking with your sister and some of your friends but mostly keeping to yourself. You spend so much time to yourself that you're ahead with your work, which isn't too out of the picture since you mostly are on track but with the extra time to yourself; you get ahead.

As usual, your dad is proud of you, showing that outwardly but also keeping his worries to himself, watching you closely and almost acting as if you'll break if he breathes too hard. And maybe you will, you're not even sure yourself.

Sometimes you feel like a live fuse, ready to burn and implode, but other times you just feel numb, unsure on how to process things. Yet as the day he comes back crawls closer, you find yourself growing at peace with your situation, still missing him but almost forgiving him through his absence. You kept in contact with him, but it was far and few between given your schedule with school and him sort of being a bit grounded. He did explain that was his father's doing, it made sense to you how it was.

You woke up that morning, reaching for your phone just to see the excited messages he left for you. How he was finally looking forward to seeing you again, and the plans he had for you both.

You knew he had apologies attached and that he only wanted to mutter them in person, for that, you were thankful.

You managed to go about your day quietly, tidying up your bunk before heading over to the library on campus, returning a few books you borrowed for a project, and then walking back over to the main museum. Wandering through the halls and exhibits, admiring them as if you don't pass by them hundreds of times a day. It kept your mind off everything.

Somewhere between them and now, you'd walked back to your dorm, turning into the room only to see Wilbur unpacking. You stop in the doorway, watching him make his bunk and put away his bags.

"Hey, Wil," you finally speak up, greeting him and he immediately turns to face you, smiling happily at you.

"Hey," he whispers, walking over to you and offering a hug, which you gratefully take, falling into his arms and hugging him tightly around his waist.

"I'm glad you're back," you mumble against his chest, holding yourself tighter against him, reveling in his warmth; something you didnt realize you missed so much.

"Me too," he breathes, kissing your cheek before pulling back to look down at you, "I'm sorry, genuinely. I shouldn't have let her kiss me, and I sure as hell shouldn't have snapped at you how I did. You didn't deserve any of that, and so I'm sorry."

a small smile creeps up on your lips as he speaks, rambling at a speed faster than what should be humanly possible. so once he takes a breath, you lean up to press your lips to his, letting his mold to yours as you kiss one another, the exchange beginning to build in tension. he holds his hands on your hips, pulling you flush against him as you reach your fingers to sift through the curls on the back of his head. soft whimpers and hums are shared between your mouths, his grip getting tighter as you lift yourself higher on your toes.

you take a few more moments before you both decide to break for breath, eyes meeting before you both smile and laugh, "so, am I forgiven?" he whispers against your lips, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth before swiping his thumbs over your hip bones.

"mmm.. yeah, I think so," you giggle, standing back flat on your feet before you begin to tug him towards the door.

"where are you taking me?" he speaks through soft laughs, quite happy with how things turned out, even if he got his ass handed to him.

"our spot."

he smiles at the mention, nodding as you drag him away; most likely to make out. regardless, you're both happy with how things turned out and are sure to move forward from here. you forgave him, so all that needs to happen is for him to forgive himself.

main taglist; @lcvejoy @lillylvjy @ella-fella-bo-bella @lotusanonymouse @willgoldszn @whos-nicooo @zebonos

bs au taglist; @lillylvjy @lyssys

(send an ask to be added to either list!!)

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anotherkindofloveletters · 1 year

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Everything Happens to Me - Part 3

Hi flowers! So finally the plot is starting and I really hope you like this idea. Let me know if you have some things to say and ideas to make it better. It's really a WIP.

tw: Swearing, fatshaming, offenses. Don't think there's much more to it, but let me know if you find something.

Chapter 3 - Let them know

chapter 2

Things between y/n and Charles were going great, trying to enjoy every second of the time they had left before the start of the racing season. Even though being private was starting to tire the Monegasque a little bit, he really wanted to share his relationship because after months of suffering, he was finally happy. On the other side, Charles’ press team knew how much Charlotte and him were loved around the paddock and since they are broken up, everyone started to wanting them back together and many lost interest in him because of some false cheating rumors.

“So this is where I started the race…” Charles points at the faded grid lines on the Monaco street where the grand prix starts “But not where I finished…” y/n lets out a giggle watching him explain to her a bit about the race of the past year there. She couldn’t believe how unintentionally funny was Charles and that was something that really made her fall in love with him. They keep walking around town, chatting and window shopping, they wouldn’t do that a lot because of the secrecy thing, but they would do that with friends sometimes just to enjoy outside time as well. “Excuse-moi Charles, je peux prendre une photo avec vous ?” Charles, can I take a picture with you? a little boy says pulling Charles’ shirt a little, the Monegasque turns and smiles at him “Bien sûr, tu veux que ma petite amie soit là ?” Sure, do you want my girlfriend to be in it? y/n isn’t sure to have properly understood what Charles just said “Me?” she almost whispered, knowing that action would lead to trouble, her boyfriend nods and as the little kid eagerly accepts, poses and takes the photo. “Merci” says the little one smiling before running back to his mother. “Charles… you know that will bring trouble, don’t you?” says y/n looking at him with a worried look “I’m with you, I’m lucky to be and I’m in love and I need to live it freely. I don’t want to hide you.” his hand reaches to hers while looking into her eyes “I love you y/n.”. The feeling of fear in y/n becomes happiness with those words alone “Whatever happens I will be there with you okay? I love you.” her smile always felt warm to him, something he would never exchange with anything in the world.

Once y/n gets at home she starts cleaning a bit the kitchen that was pretty messy after an attempt to bake a cake with Charles earlier that day, so an half an hour goes by before she decides to take a shower then rest on the sofa with a cup of tea. She opens insagram and notices that her account was flooded with comments and follows, unluckily most of them where anything but good “You slut, you will never be as Charlotte.” “Oh my god, how could he cheat on Charlotte with this fat ass bitch?” after reading a few of them, y/n decide to just close the app and take big breaths before noticing a call from Charles “Ange, I wanted to check on you.” “Hey, I’m fine. I guess that was something the team was trying to protect us from.” “You know it’s all lies right? Do you want me to come over? Just ignore them okay. It’ll take time but I’m sure they will love you.” Charles says without even taking a break “Hey, calm down you. I’m fine, I swear. How did it go with the team?” he giggles at those words “Well, not happy at all, but they will manage it too.” “People can be mean, but we know what we need to.” “I love you.” “I love you too ma belle.”

chapter 4

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 fan fiction #female!reader #f1 imagine #forbidden love #charles leclerc imagine #il predestinato #charles leclerc x female!reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagines #f1 x you #charles leclerc and charlotte siné #charles leclerc fan fic #charles leclerc predestinato #il predestinato vince #charles leclerc x female

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nenyabusiness · 7 months

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Writer Asks

Tagged by @myfavouritelunatic and @cliffdivingsblog, thank you!

How many works do you have on AO3? 24 on one account, 43 on another. (I'm telling you, I'm juggling two hyperfixations.)

What's your total AO3 words count? 201,385 on my reylo/haladriel account, 123,964 (100k redacted because of a fic-turned-novel publishing deal) on my Final Fantasy/JRPG/anime account.

What fandoms do you write for? Currently, Tolkien (Rings of Power with touches of Silmarillion) and Final Fantasy XIII (fine, @shadowmeowth, accept that we're more or less co-writing now, FINE).

What are your top five fics by kudos? - A reluctant compromise (reylo, force bond smut) - Whatever It Takes (reylo, WIP that will probably never be finished, I'm so sorry) - The Wolf (reylo, post TLJ-smut) - You'll Be Mine (reylo, force bond smut) - se vis pacem, para bellum (haladriel, John Wick AU) I was on a roll with the reylo force bond smut there for a while.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I didn't use to until about half a year ago. Until then, I didn't see writing fanfiction as being a part of a community the same way I do now. I recognize most of my commenters now, so it feels more natural to turn the comment section into a place for dialogue. (Yes, anyone-who-have-commented-on-a-fic-more-than-a-handful-of-times, I do remember you and I'm always happy to see you come back!)

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? This made me laugh, because in a different lifetime in a different fandom (okay I'm talking hope/light 2012), I was called "the Queen of Angst". I was still struggling a little with writing in English, so I relied a lot on the same kind of writing that you guys see from me today in my ficlets. Short, straight to the point, and packed with emotion. Easy way of getting around that little issue of, you know, not being able to describe things. It's hard to choose from those, but I remember people being really upset about this one: - The nameless soldier In this fandom, most of my ficlets are pretty angsty, but I think this one might be one of the most tragic: - but still the door is closed

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I think Four Hours a Day wins the race here, even if se vis pacem, para bellum is a close second. Four Hours a Day might be the only fic I've written that's pure feel-good.

Do you get hate on fics? Back in the FFXIII fandom in 2012, that was just your everyday morning news. The shipping wars were ruthless. Pretty intense from time to time with reylo too. I've only gotten hate twice in the haladriel fandom, and one of them made me laugh so hard because the thing they decided to dunk on was actually taken straight from John Wick.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes, yes I do. It used to be limited to M+ territory, but I managed to cross the threshold into proper E with Four Hours a Day. I've always been more intrigued by sexual tension and buildup rather than the actual mechanics, but I'm in an experimenting phase.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've written? Do I even have to say it? I'm going to say it: se vis pacem, para bellum. John Wick x Rings of Power x some Silmarillion. When I first got the idea, I thought it was so bizarre that I would probably be its only reader. I was proven wrong. Good times.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes. A lot of FFXIII fics were scraped and reuploaded on a different site a couple of years ago, but we managed to get them removed.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yep! The fic that I later rewrote into an original work was translated into German and French, and one of my reylo works have been translated into Russian.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have. I wrote a scene together with @youwearfinethingswellwriter a couple of months ago, and I'm currently in some kind of symbiotic writing relationship with @shadowmeowth.

What's your all time favourite ship? I can't choose between haladriel and hope/light. I just can't. I've got two hyperfixations and neither seem to be willing to let me go. (And one of them has had a hold over me for 13 damn years.)

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Definitely Whatever It Takes. I didn't have an outline when I started, and then the project just grew too big. I knew, ish, where I wanted it to go, but I didn't know how to get it there. I'm really sorry about abandoning it though, because I had so many lovely followers. (Fun fact: I actually got to apologize for that, 7 years later, when one of those followers started commenting on my haladriel fics. The reylo/haladriel venn diagram is a circle.)

What are your writing strengths? Thanks to the editors I worked with when I got my novel published, I learned a lot about writing action scenes and how to control the pacing. I'd like to think that at least some of it stuck. I'm also good at writing short. It's not necessarily an altogether positive thing, but I do know how to get something across with as few words as possible. (Oh, the things you do to avoid describing things when you're writing in your second language.)

What are your writing weaknesses? Second. Language. Writer. My prose is efficient, but it will never be pretty or effortless. And I'm really, really slow.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Unpopular opinion? It's a pet peeve. If it's already established that a conversation is held in a certain language but written in English, there's no need to add phrases from that language to the dialogue. For me, it just makes it look like the characters were speaking English all along. Just... pick one. Full translation or plain English.

First fandom you wrote for? Final Fantasy XIII. Never left.

Favourite fic you've ever written? It's a tie between se vis pacem, para bellum and Four Hours a Day. Para bellum was a four month commitment. I followed an outline from start to finish with barely any alterations at all, and it turned out exactly as planned. 4h/d was the complete opposite. I got an idea, and then I wrote the whole 12k monster of a one shot in like two days. It reawakened my love for music, and I still reread it sometimes when I need to get a music kick. Damn. That was a lot. My usual suspects seem to have been tagged already, so I'm leaving that open. Thanks again!

#not tolkien #tag games

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missmungoe · 1 year

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💌 Hello!

💌 Share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Several of my long-running fics are close to being finished, and the first one out will be my Selkie AU, Moon and Her Maiden! On the night before leaving East Blue, Shanks encounters a selkie while skinny-dipping, get a kiss for his troubles, and then decides to stick around for a while, much to Makino's horror, who really hadn't thought that far and who now has to keep her identity a secret. Cue classic secret identity tropes, moonlit swims and water kisses, and, as always, an unhelpfully meddling crew. (It's also fairly raunchy, just fyi!)

I'm almost done editing the final chapter, which clocked in at just under 30K, and with luck I'll be posting it next week! I've already posted a snippet, but from the bonus chapter that I'm totally not writing:

Moonsongs

She wondered sometimes how her mother had managed, raising a selkie child with no knowledge of her kind, and the ways she’d differed from human children.

“Are you sure this is safe?”

The question drew her eyes from the horizon to where he stood beside her, waist-deep in the surf. He was holding their baby daughter above the water, cooing excitedly at the fish below the clear surface.

“Yeah, this seems a bit premature, Makino,” a voice called from the shore.

“She’s not even walking yet!”

Turning her head found the rest of his crew were gathered on the shore behind them, their expressions conveying similar concerns. Makino had half a mind to tell them they shouldn’t be pointing fingers, who didn’t have a prudent bone between them.

Well, there was Ben, but even he looked like he might voice his concerns. Or like he desperately needed a smoke.

Having found allies to back his case, “See?” Shanks asked. “I’m not the only one with misgivings.”

“She was born in the water, Shanks,” Makino reminded him. “And she needs to learn to change at some point.”

“But she’s so little,” Shanks said, holding her closer as she giggled and kicked her feet, her sealskin slipping into her brow, the sunlight bringing out the dappled spots in the red pelt. "What if something snaps her up?"

"There's nothing big enough to eat her for miles," Makino said, reaching up to adjust her pelt until it was sitting atop her hair, her little toothless grin beaming. "Besides, I'm not worried about that. He's looking out for her."

The look he gave her told her what he thought about this particular arrangement, but while he had a temper, the Lord of the Coast wouldn't let anything happen to her daughter.

Still not convinced, “What if a current carries her off?" Shanks asked, lifting her as Rowan made a giggling lurch for the water. "Did you think about that?"

“She’s half seal,” Makino pointed out, prim. "If it does, she'll swim back."

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Dadan said, her arms crossed where she stood on the beach behind them, her tail swinging lazily. With a nod at Ace, “I tossed you in when you were a few months old, and you turned out fine. Babies are buoyant.”

Blinking, Ace looked up at her. “You did what?”

“Explains a few things,” Sabo mused, only to get an unamused look from his brother.

"At least I float," Ace said, with a nod at Luffy. "Unlike hammer boy over here."

"Eh?" Luffy asked, and seeing their looks, "Oh, right! I can't swim."

"How did you survive this long without us?" Ace sighed, adjusting his straw hat where it had slipped into his brow.

“I still think we should wait longer,” Shanks said. “What about when she’s thirty? That sounds reasonable.”

Murmured agreement from the crew ashore, as Makino briefly considered just pushing him in, baby and all.

#Shanks x Makino #Shanks #Red-Haired Shanks #Akagami no Shanks #opfanfic #Makino #One Piece Makino #mungoe writes #fic writer asks meme #thank you!!

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atiyasnake · 1 year

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After MANY MONTHS and my brain hooked on dp x dc stuff, I finally freaking managed to work on my bnha wip chapter draft for ch.11 of Coffee on a roof.

Technically, I already had a first draft, but very bare bones, in my opinion, and in need of major rewriting and editing. Usually, the first draft is pretty fleshed out, but ch.11 was giving me some trouble.

But today, by the Grace of Beatrice, I actually wrote what would essentially be half of the final version of ch.11 that I would post on Ao3. I'm sure there needs to be edits cause of misspellings and some other edits but essentially, it's halfway done.

Funnily enough, the 2nd half is much more fleshed out in the first draft, so there's not much needing to be done other than building onto that and, of course it's actually good enough and fits it with the rest of what I have written.

I'm hoping to meet a word count of at least 3,000, and from the looks of it, I think I'll meet it. It would be nice to be able to post a longer chapter after almost 6 months since the last update (December of 2022). Poor readers, I got a few comments about if I had abandoned the story. XD Sorry, my lovelies, I'm just slow.

Seriously, the dp x dc got its claws in me and did not let go.

I have a lot planned and outlined for Coffee on a roof. Kind need to reorganize that whole mess that's not really messy but feels messy. Either way, I'm invested in completing the story so no abandonedment is happening. Tho can't promise it won't take a long time. Still can't believe I finished TIAB so quickly, tho a lot of that was just free writing it in the sense that things weren't really planned at the beginning.

Things are a bit more complex with COAR and I'm really wanting go make sure it comes out good seeing as it's the 2nd major part of the main story. Gotta make sure it connects and all that jazz with the details and so on.

Kinda stressful tbh with the attention TIAB got, but I try to ignore that, less I want to feel the crushing weight of being perceived and judged...no biggie (I am small and sensitive)

Anyways, just feeling happy bout the progress that was made today. Feels nice.

Also, I just gotta remind myself that writing fics isn't my job or obligation. It's something I do for fun and enjoy. Gotta make sure I keep it that way :p

*FYI Beatrice is a character in one of my other bnha wips that has yet to be published and probably will be a big project if I ever get to rlly work on it. It's a whole chaotic quirked 'doesnt die' Izuku style fic (gotta love having multiple cakes). And to specify, Beatrice is a possum...no I will not expand on that.

#Atiya writes #COAR #Coffee on a roof #writing update #kind of ramble too #my fics #we worship Beatrice in my discord #Atiya updates

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sagiow · 11 months

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tagged by: @combat-librarian, @tortoisesshells, @undisclosed-serendipity and @tough-n-dumb. Thank you all!

last song: must’ve been Calm Down or that Sam Smith song on the weekly Top 40 we listened to on the radio yesterday afternoon (why am I still getting tagged on music things? I’m just embarassing myself).

currently watching: Mainly the weather forecast because I’m off this week and my kids have baseball tournaments and I have no idea how any of this will go between the rain and the forest fire smoke alerts. Look at the sky in the Old Port yesterday:

TV-wise, I’m between shows right now. The last one I watched was season 2 of Girls5Eva which I cannot recommend strongly enough to my fellow Millenials. Next one is probably The Great ?

currently reading: The Toss of a Lemon by Padma Viswanathan. I’ve probably been reading it for half a year because the fanfics my fellow The English fans write are all novel length (and I’m STILL not caught up with @combat-librarian’s latest).

current obsession: Too overwhelmed to be obsessed. June has been a massive stress fest of trying not to forget anything school (I swear, they had some special event every other day), work, or baseball-related, while effusively cursing myself for not managing to finish anything writing-wise, even though I’ve had multiple half-baked chapters in limbo ever since finishing Acikskatakusiir. But now school is finally over, I’m off work for this holiday week, and I’m getting the hang of juggling multiple teams, so hopefully I’ll be able to edit a decent chapter or two out of the 12K words written. Or not, and they’ll all stay in WIP Land for another month, and maybe another two after that, all the way until Fall and I get my evenings and brain back.

tagging @divinecomedienne, @fericita-s, @jomiddlemarch, @theimprobable1, @laiqualaurelote, @broadwaybaggins and anyone else who wants to play!

#yes I also turned 40 last week #no I did not much care to #but hey it's just a number #and if Girls5Eva can do it so can I

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nuatthebeach · 1 year

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2022 Wrapped

Tagged by @corneliaavenue! You're a lovely thing <3

Oof, it's already 2023, isn't it? Oh, well.

Post the top 5 works you're most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular)

it's gonna be 4 now lol.

persist and resist the temptation to ask you - this one is perhaps the most authentic, soul-pouring fic i've ever written. and the one i'm most proud of because of my growth in writing prose and pacing overall. there were many times i would huddle with a blanket in a dark room (💀) simply because of how much i was feeling in the moment. it was the most visceral experience i've had writing so far.

like passing notes in secrecy - i would say that when i finished persist, i was in this writing craze/high in that i simply wanted to write anything since i finally felt like i was on a roll, but that wouldn't do this fic - and my work - justice. because persist was so angsty, i desperately needed to write something that was light and fluffy in consequence for my own sake. i'm very happy about the banter and humor i was able to apply to this OTP; it was pure serotonin, and i hope it was the same for others.

Midnight - my first hinny smut!! aka i took my headcanon of switch!hinny and really ran with it. though i no longer have the same exact headcanon about the two of them, i'm still really proud of how steamy this turned out. and i have a feeling all the private bookmarkers do too 👀

you knew that i'm a mastermind, and now you're mine - man, the sheer power tswift holds on all fic writers everywhere. the aim was to use this song ("mastermind") in irony to show how the wizarding world perceives ginny relative to her relationship with harry. and because ginny is such a force of nature, she and the press manage to come to a certain albeit amusing level of agreement (a true mastermind har dee har). it's a bamf character moment for her, and she owned every second of it.

your top 4 current WIPs that you're excited to release in the new year

you reminded me to open up my google docs for the first time in a month! phewww.

premed hinny!rivals to lovers fic - snippet here. my final fuck you (and extremely reluctant thank you) to undergrad in the form of my OTP. fic is fully outlined and ready to be written if only i could give it the time of day 😭. but now that i have a lot of time opened up for me in the next several months, i'll finally get to it! fingers crossed

anniversary hinny smut - hinny roleplays as strangers in a bar, and let's just say we'll stick the art of acting to the shitty movies. a whole ass page written so far, so i take that as a win!

a somewhat angst, somewhat crack fic... i uh... have the most written for this wip so far of all my wips and im both proud and mortified by that. let's just say it's a story of how hinny finds themselves back to each other postwar... and the path is not exactly a straight route. playlist is a wip as well.

another crack fic because apparently that's all @takearisk-ao3 and me are on... though it's more accurate to say i helped to brainstorm and Hannah, the brilliant Executioner. to quote Hannah's post... "no comment."

im adding a fifth one because why not. hinny!vampire au. though there's only been half a page written for it so far, and hence a lot of white space, im so, so ready for the tools of creativity to lead me to more crackheadery that ive yet to discover. (like i needed more to start with.)

your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year

i think my writing comes off a bit "cleaner" now? there's more of a coherent plot, resolution to my fics than most of the simple "slices of life" that i wrote more of last year.

i'd like to think the dialogue comes off more natural now too. im finally getting the hang of doing more "showing" than telling and implementing symbolism and metaphors when trying to display a broader theme/concept.

im able to sit with fics and be at ease with the fact that im not going to have the right answer immediately. that i have to wait before i can post to make it better. i started prioritizing quality over mass production - and while this is still something i struggle with a lot of the times - i feel like this is a bit of a step up from last year. and most importantly, i learned that rewrites - not just editing - may be necessary too, and that is okay. that does not make me a bad writer but (hopefully) a thoughtful one.

your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year

to not constantly compare myself to other people's writing. focus on how i can improve myself without being intimidated by all the works of the many amazing writers in the fandom. to finally put words on the page fearlessly and authentically, like i felt i did with persist.

to take more risks. keep putting my characters in uncomfortable situations and testing out how they can grow from them. to not feel limited in my writing just because in my young age i havent experienced them. to push my boundaries more. (i thank @fairsquare16 @takearisk-ao3 and @narukoibito for encouraging this and the first goal every single time i feel even the slightest bit down about it; they're also the reason im still entertaining all these crackfics so put the blame on them when they eventually come out)

and your number 1 favorite line you've written this year

my fucking answer to this changes every two seconds...not for any other reason except that it's my biggest conspiracy theory that i have early, early onset dementia and can't for the life of me remember. here's one for now:

Like the story, the moral is just as simple: love unconditionally, act irrevocably. One shouldn't fear wearing their heart on their sleeve if the alternative is to never plant, water, and bathe it with the light of day.

After all, what are mistakes if not signs to grow?

Tagging

@narukoibito @heartstopping-waves @ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey and whoever else would like to do it (i truly mean that)!

#2022 wrapped #nu's writing tag #hinny fanfic #harry x ginny

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ouroboros-hideout · 4 months

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WIP WEDNESDAY WHENEVER

I got tagged by @theviridianbunny thank youuu!

ART

The Kurt drawing I started a month ago is almost finished so I won't show that as a WIP again lol. But I settled on what I want to draw next already and I am way to hyped by the idea (Cyberpunk/Witcher crossover)

WRITING

I write quite a lot lately (or try to). Manly oc stuff because I managed to get obsessed with Alyona. Welp.

Her character introduction for my AU is halfway finished, but I am overthinking if it got a little to shippy (I didn't intendet that in the beginning but it just happened and I like it hehe). Maybe I make my shippy stuff into something extra and name it after the ship to keep the actual AU "cleaner" bc it's not that important for the plot. I don't know! I can't organzie my stuff!

Here's a preview of the introduction tho. For context: It's a backflash and around 2073, the business in Dtown starts to bloom and she comes for a visit to see what the Colonel came up with (try not to cringe by posting your writing but cringe anyway):

————————————————————

A woman got out of the helicopter after them. Relatively tall, slim, athletically muscular, her short black hair was tousled by the wind, the sides of her skull were shaved short. She wore simple, military-style clothing. Cargo pants, lace-up heavy boots, a tactical leather jacket. Everything was kept in black and dark olive tones. If you didn't know any better, you'd say she was from here and it would be easy for her to blend in with the masses in Dogtown. One detail that made her stand out, was a multitude of thin scars that ran from the lower left side of her face across her nose and up to her forehead. Judging by the degree of healing, it was a very old wound. At least on the outside.

She walked confidently past her people, holding a bottle of clear liquid with an elaborately designed label in her right hand. Probably high-proof alcohol from her home.

After a few steps, however, she stopped abruptly and pushed the aviator glasses she was wearing down a little to look over the rim in disbelief and with a raised eyebrow.

"You look old, Kurt," she said blatantly, examined the man in front of her from top to bottom and continued to walk slowly towards the him, then took her glasses off completely and put them in the inside pocket of her jacket.

"It hasn't been that long since we last saw each other, has it?"

Her English was remarkably good when compared to other representatives from this part of the world who were usually up for business in Dogtown. However, she was unable to mask the slight accents common to the Russian language.

Kurt ignored her little teasing and tried to be professional.

"I'm glad you're here too." He couldn't help but welcome her with a thin smile." And it should be about half a year. The last time was in Laos during the negotiations."

Both slowly came to a halt in front of each other. Jago had followed the Colonel discreetly and kept to the background.

"That was six months ago already. Seems like I did good on suppressing the memories about that terrible place“, she answered shaking her head in disbelief.

"How was the flight?" he added tersely.

"Ah," she made a dismissive hand gesture. "Alright. I am getting used to traveling.“ She showed him the bottle she brought with her. „Here's your favorite. Don't worry, I've got more in the helicopter."

Without further ado, she pressed it into Hansen's hand.

For all the people standing by who were not yet familiar with Alyona and her way of dealing with Kurt, this whole encounter must have seemed incredibly strange. They all only knew him as the undisputed authority figure and nobody, except at most his old brothers in arms, would dare to talk to him like that. And even there were limits.

Alyona finally looked with interest at the man standing behind the Colonel.

„And who is the cute little cat? I don't think we've met yet.“

Jago's features froze completely and he didn't think he had heard correctly.

"The cute little... EXCUSE ME?" he replied with audible outrage in his voice.

————————————————————

And I still NEED to write her fucking lore down. I think I got it togehter by now.

VP (new to the list)

Just started to activly making pics on my console and would like to come up with a little series in the future maybe.

Atm I try to make pics for a fun Discord Challenge where I have to show a single day in the live of my V. Since I am still obsessed with a certain disctrict I thought I make it a "Dogtown Days"- Edition. I struggle with the limited set of poses but I'll figure something out.

Yea think that's it for now. I still have so many ideas for a lot of different things but I have to restrain myself and finish some things first before I get lost in my WIP-Limbo.

#wip whenever #ouroboros talks #writing stuff #art stuff #VP stuff

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lorirwritesfanfic · 1 year

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Do you have any fics in the works? Tell us about them!Looking forward to any other writer's upcoming fics? Tell us about them too!

My wip folder is never empty, darling. I don't know if it's a good or a bad thing to say it, given the number of unfinished works I have there, but oh well...

I haven't had much time to write. You know... real life, bills, family, more bills... 😵 and of course I procrastinate a lot (I blame Netflix Brasil for getting Downton Abbey and all the Turkish diziler I find online 🤦🏻‍♀️). But I write sometimes. Not every day. Not most days of the week as I used to do before. But I'm still writing.

The one wip I'm actually half way through is a Hamid x MC xmas fic. I know you're thinking "but it's almost February! And Prince Hamid is Muslim!" and you're right. But Daphne is Christian, very fond of Christmas, Hamid loves a nice social gathering and finding any reason to tease his favorite girl and we do not follow the real life calendars in here, so why not?

Among the series I write, earlier this month I was working on Meant To Be (Desire & Decorum modern day AU) chapter... 27? (I lost count... 🙈) Anyway, I think the next two chapters will finally explain why I label it as a Soulmates AU. There's a Sinclaire and Daphne awkward scene here, a little Sinclaire x Alisha moment there... But nothing too dramatic for now.

There's also Jade and Liam's For The World to Know. Tbh I have no idea what chapter I am (I'm getting super lazy on this because Tumblr and AO3 count the chapters automatically for me 😅). They're just a couple of weeks away from the wedding, they're getting joint a bachelor and bachelorette party, there's some heart to heart talk with Hana (these girls need it), Leo is joining them in Vegas (and we all know he often brings drama) and there's Drake situation to be solved. I'm close to reaching the end of FTWTK and I wish I could really start Happily Ever After (instead of just posting a few one shots of them married) because I've been daydreaming about the plot for years (the story will be soooooo good, ugh!), but I don't know... If I managed to finish FTWTK (or just The Fives Stages since there's only two more chapters left), I'll take it as a win.

Last year, I also remembered I never finished my Bloodbound series. A while ago, I got a comment on AO3 from someone who wanted me to extend the series and I thought about doing it, but at this point I wouldn't know how to do it. I'd probably have to create a new plot since the one I started back then is nearly solved. But that would demand time to replay Bloodbound to find inspiration and, unluckily, that's something I don't have lately. I started planning a chapter with Adrian x OC (any Adrian stans still out there?), then I'll write one more chapter to wrap it up.

There are other Desire & Decorum AUs and a TRR AU, but I haven't touched those wips in months... I rather not make any promises regarding any of those stories for now.

Other than that, there are a few one shots planned:

A Thomas Mendez x Ayla (+ Stephanie and Luz) inspired by one of my favorite Brazilian memes and a scene of a 2010 romcom. I can't explain why I'm doing this... The muse wants what the muse wants 😂

A few ficlets (or short stories, depending on how inspired I am when I actually sit down to write) to answer some OTP asks for Hamid x Daphne and Nate x Stella (TWC). I was debating if I'd include Liam x Jade, but I might give away the plot of Happily Ever After in one of the questions, so nope 😅

When it comes to other people's stuff, I don't know... I'm not super active on Choices (or any fandom, for that matter) and I'm not familiar with most of the fandom and what people have been writing lately. I do have my faves (@missameliep @lilyoffandoms @storyofmychoices @princess-geek @noesapphic ) and they still write from time to time, but I'm not going to pester them for new fics. They have their own lives and write whenever they can. As a fan of their work, I respect their writing pace and I'm simply glad they're still here.

Thanks for the ask, anon!

#lori answers #anon ask #fanfiction #wip folder

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handdrawnfantasma · 9 months

Text

i got tagged by @monstrousmoonshine (ty!!) to self-rec 5 of my fave fics wot i have wrote so... here we go :')

1. "what if final fantasy x but with the magnus archives characters" aka the result of miri asking 'i had a mental image of jon doing the Sending and where's my jonmartin ffx au' aka clutching a map of dreams, the fic that has taken up the better part of the past 2 yrs and 8 months of my life. if you like tma and you also like fantasy epics like lord of the rings this is the fic for you. (i mean this very literally because the final word count pretty much equals that of LOTR lmao)!! Martin is swept away by a mysterious kaiju death monster into a stagnant future where things have gone Horribly Wrong and crosses paths with Jon who is a summoner tasked to go on a pilgrimage to somehow calm the aforementioned kaiju death monster. JRPG adventures, the world's saddest hiking trip, slowburn romance, found family and MANY revelations about why the world is the way it is ensue, also featuring the author wrestling with the concepts of sacrifice and responsibility and blame and where those all intersect with The Greater Good(tm) and how people's intent to do good or to atone for real or imagined wrongs can be manipulated by others and twisted to other purposes. there are only 6 updates to go until the fic is over so now is a good time to jump in and binge it. if u wanna [ eyes emoji ] honestly this is the first time i've even attempted to write something this long let alone FINISHED it and if i do say so myself i did a good job making sure that the plot made sense and that all the foreshadowing and callbacks/call forwards paid off. i also managed to fit SO MANY tma character cameos in there and some nice parallels to tma canon events as well as expanding on the FFX lore itself so like. im Very Proud of this one haha

2. the variant of soft hanahaki as envisioned by isa and myself and a few of our other friends back on plurk has lived in my brain rent-free for years and so of course i was going to inflict it on jon and martin. milk vetch is a short fic that takes place in the middle of TMA season 3, in a world where unspoken love (whether that be romantic, platonic, or otherwise) causes you to cough up (mostly harmless) flowers until you get over yourself and tell whoever it is that you love them. i had a LOT of fun with jon's POV in this one, his exhaustion and self-deprecation, and i also had a LOT of fun with the concept of the Beholding dropping a dictionary of flower symbolism into his head whenever he so much as looks at a hanahaki flower. it was also interesting to explore like... the psychology/reasoning behind NOT telling someone you love them even when the evidence is Right There, just going full magic realism with it all.

3. not to have never been is a fic taking place in the 13th doctor era sunless skies au that i've been building with kite for about a year and a half! 13 is a sky-captain, the fam are her officers, and this fic is about them getting caught in a weft of unravelling time and struggling to get Out without dying or losing themselves. i'm rly proud of this one because i managed to mix the episodic nature of a bottle episode of dr who (think 42 or Tsuranga) with the Sunless Skies ambience, and switching between 5 different 3rd-person limited POVs really let me play with allowing the voice of the character to permeate the narration which is a LOT of fun. i'm also proud of a couple of the cool things i managed to do with the structure here (having an Ice section followed by a Fire section and then a Dark section followed by a Light section) and some of the hints i laid down for the backstory of a few of the characters...

i actually only have 1 more of my fics to rec for this LMAO and it is still unfinished BUT in the spirit of the meme i'm gonna rec it anyway bc WIPs are still worth reading:

4. spydoc the locked tomb au, aka the result of me watching the power of the doctor last year and immediately losing my mind over the fact that dhawan!master basically reinvented lyctorhood. spydoc are a necro-cav pair from the Fifth House and this tragedy is going exactly where you think it is going (also featuring me straining the torvic affair thru a 13-shaped sieve and then re-straining it thru a tlt-shaped sieve, state-sanctioned codependency, and canon-typical memes, ruth!doctor and yaz are also going to feature when i get back to writing this thing). if you, too, are haunted by all the ways dhawan!master ends up emulating + recreating all of the worst excesses of gallifrey's founders despite the fact that he despises them so much and love trainwrecks as much as i do then u should read this and yell at me to finish it

tagging @birdybirdnerd bc i kno u write a lot BUT if anyone else wants to pick this meme up then pls do, we should all be more insufferable about our own work LMAO

#fel is occasionally a writer #au warlock shenanigans

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