#my estimate at the moment is 10k

[toruvi]

tmi maybe but i havent wanked in 3+ days and im thinking it's contributing to how insane ive been the last few days

#working on pwasoi tonight #sorry i had a mental breakdown this weekend but we're bouncing back JKHFGJKHDF #I'm at 10k words currently but im estimating 12k #listen last night was like #one of the few times that i was not a happy drunk #which is so so rare but my godthe people i was dealing with drove me crazy #and idk what was in the fucking margarita i drank but i was woozy all night and yakked too many times #it was a yikes moment

[fullsunstrawberry]

PREVIEW

Love Beyond Labels

synopsis: the misunderstood "rich girl," reveals her academic struggles to a loner with his own challenges. In an unexpected twist, they form a unique friendship—she gets study help, and he gains a true companion.

genre: slice of life, humor, fluff, angst, smut

warnings**: swearing, bullying, joke of “social suicide”, smut (more to be added)

word count: estimated 10k (preview 1k)

release date: December 10th

a/n: thank you guys so much for 2k followers AHHHH so i decided to post my first ever written fanfic…this took forever to write btw lol

taglist open! (18+)

School is easy, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty. Well, that's what all your classmates thought. They didn't know how difficult school was for you. You never got what was happening in class. Anytime you got an answer wrong, no one batted an eye because who expects the rich pretty girl to get an answer right? But little did they know you would cry in the janitor's room after each time. You just hated feeling so dumb.

"Ugh, I'm not ready for today's test," Jaemin huffed, plopping down beside you.

"Wait, there's a test?" you sighed, already predicting the outcome.

Mr. Moon whispered a half-hearted "good luck" as he handed you the test, before moving on and finishing handing out everyone else’s tests. He already knew how it was going to go. You hated how even the teachers knew you were stupid.

After the test, you already knew you failed it. You were the last one to turn your test in, when Jaemin asked if you wanted to meet up with him, Jeno, Mark, and Chenle for lunch. You nodded telling him you had to stop at the office real quick.

Instead of walking towards the office, you sped walked to the janitor's closet, already feeling the tears threaten to escape. You knew you failed that test. Even though you acted like you didn’t know you had a test, you lied. You’ve been studying for it for a long time. Even canceling plans. But you would never admit it to anyone. You studied your ass off but still failed, that’s even more pathetic than forgetting about it.

You quickly took out the keys and opened the door quickly so no other student would see it. You thank the janitor for being so forgetful that you could easily steal one of his keys. He has a bunch of copies, one missing wouldn’t hurt. Right as you locked the door you sat in the corner, not even bothering to turn the lights on.

you were always an ugly crier, but it was okay cause you bought the most expensive waterproof makeup for these occasions. Only a quick bathroom stop is needed before meeting your friends for lunch.

As you were drying your tears you heard the door jiggle and then open. you quickly hid your face just in case it was someone you knew.

"Y/N?" a voice you didn't recognize spoke, interrupting your quiet moment in the janitor's closet.

Confused, you wiped your face and looked up at the mystery voice. You kind of recognized the thick black glasses boy in front of you. You knew he was in some of your classes but you couldn’t think of his name.

Fearing the worst you cleared your throat before asking “What do you want?”

“Uh, I don't want anything!" the boy replied, swiftly stepping into the room and closing the door. You noticed he had his lunch tray with him. "This might sound pathetic, but I like to eat my lunch here."

confused, you asked him “Why would you do that?”

“Well I don’t really have friends and I don't want to get picked on” he explained sitting down next to you, not having much of a choice because there wasn’t that much room.

"Oh, I'm sorry for bothering you. I'll just go," you said, preparing to stand up. But before you could, he quickly called out your name, making you look down at him.

"You're not bothering me! You can stay and talk about what's going on. I know we don't talk, but I can listen to you." His hopeful eyes convinced you to sit back down. You quickly wiped away your tears before confiding in him.

“You can’t tell anyone this!“ You put your pinky finger up and put it near him. “promise?

“I don’t have many people to tell” he let out a small laugh while putting his hands up defensively. “promise!” he took your pinky finger in his

“okay” you nodded “I failed my psychology test today”

you looked at his face and he looked confused “What?” you questioned

“Oh it's just, you always fail your tests. Everyone knows that”

As he said that you felt the tears start to come back. Of course, he wouldn’t get it. Why did you ever think he would get it?

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m so sorry” he panicked “I shouldn’t have said that!”

you turn away, quickly wiping away your tears again. “no I get it, I’m the dumb girl”

"No, no, no, that's not what I meant. Hey, want to hear something embarrassing about me? I'm only here because of a scholarship. That's why no one wants to be friends with me!" he confessed.

you start to giggle “That’s not embarrassing!”

“It made you laugh! But here is something actually embarrassing, my teacher forgot my name today. Even though I've had her for the whole year.”

Your eyes widen, feeling bad that you forgot his name.

“ahh you don’t know my name either”

you smile “If you tell me your name, I’ll forgive you”

“haechan”

“That's a nice name, haechan” You smiled at the way it rolled off your tongue.

“thank you, I have a proposition or a proposal”

“I know what proposition means” you teased

he giggled, “I’ll help you study”

your eyes lit up, “really? What can I do for you?”

he avoided your eyes and cleared his throat “Be my friend”

your eyes softened “That’s not hard, I was going to be your friend after this conversation anyways” You pushed his shoulder.

He finally met your eyes and smiled at you. “then you don’t have to do anything, friends help friends”

As the bell faintly rang, you pulled out your phone. "Here, give me your number so we can talk."

he paused for a second before taking your phone

standing up and thanking him before you quickly left to go touch up your makeup in the bathroom. Reminding yourself you would have to tell Jaemin you were sorry for ditching him and the guys.

#nct dream #nct dream x reader #haechan x reader #haechan smut #haechan angst #haechan fluff #nct dream haechan #haechan #mark #renjun #jeno #jaemin #chenle #jisung

[wonustars]

𝘚𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘭 ’𝘴 𝘓𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 (𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘳)

“𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. 𝘪’𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶” - 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘦’𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘩

story inspirtation came from this poll pairing: c.sc x reader word count: estimated ~10k+ (this teaser: 983 words)

genre: friends to friends with benefits to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut (mdni)

summary: You and Seungcheol have been friends ever since you were kids. Growing up as neighbours, experiencing all the horrific adolescent moments in high school, and now going to the same University together. Even though you’ve denied it many times to your friends, part of you has always had feelings for him, not that you would ever say it out loud. He is the one person you can trust with anything and everything. So what happens when he propositions the idea of becoming friends with benefits? (the plot maybe change a little while i’m continuing to write but the overall theme will stay the same <;3)

tags: bestfriend!seungcheol, nonidol!au, university!au, female!reader, mutual pining, slow burn so painful you'll feel it in your toes, they are one year apart, SLIGHT like extremely miniscule wonwoo x reader (for the angst mwahahaha), seungcheol is a jealous jealous man, they're both idiots, jeonghan is a menace as always, seungcheol has a lot of pride, so does the reader, (i'll add more once its finished lol)

warnings/smut: this will be added on in the full post.

taglist: open! send an ask, dm, or comment to be tagged for when i post the full fic.

notes: long time no post everyone.... a LOT of people voted for an s.coups story on my poll so i'm here to deliver mwahahahaha...ALSO im so proud of the banner i made like udek i love how it looks hehhehe, i spent a good hour or so on it T-T ! i really have an urge to write a longer story, so idk when i'll be finished because it may take me a while to finish so sorry in advance. I just started writing and I was playing Mikee's Letters by Just Hush during it and so i thought id incorperate the song into the story, but barely lol (its a tagalog song so sorry if the translation is a lil rough my tagalog is not the most accurate). this story is SOOOOOO self indulgnet that it should be criminal lol BUT im really excited to write this and im really excited to share it with everyone,,, but first i actually got to finish it hehe. talk to u soon, mwah <3!

As long as you could remember you and Seungcheol have been attached to the hip. Even though he was a year older than you, you couldn’t remember the last time you spent a day without him. You’ve been in each others lives ever since then, starting all the way from the young, bright age of 5, when you and your family moved into the small, humble house across his. Although your parents weren’t very well off, Cheol was. It was an odd thing that you two were neighbours because his house was much more grand, and nicer kept than yours. This didn’t really bother you growing up though, he always made you feel like an equal.  

Seungcheol has been with you through it all, the petty fights in middle school to the pains of adolescence in high school. He’s seen you at your worst, like the time you tripped and fell trying to impress a cute guy at school, which resulted in a nose bleed. You were so embarrassed but at the end of the day Cheol was there to help you clean your bloody nose and pick you back up. A true night and shining armor, which was practically his brand. He was the one to patch up your heart, breakup after breakup. Always your shoulder to lean on when you’re feeling down, and especially when you’re happy. 

A man and bestfriend like Choi Seungcheol didn’t come around very often, and you took notice of that since you were young. You cherish every moment you have and will have with him. He is a true gentleman with a heart of gold. He’s handsome, smart, rich and caring. Every single box on your list is ticked off when it comes to him. Yet, you know that no matter how hard you love him, you will only ever be his bestfriend. The girl he sees as practically his younger sister. The bittersweet feeling of being so close to him tugs your heart till its torn. It took you a long time to accept that all you’ll ever be is his bestfriend, and even now, you’re still trying to accept this fact. 

...

Seungcheol has always seen himself as your best friend. The man that will be there for you when you have no one else to turn to. He has never seen you as more than his best friend, his y/n. He is a man who never second-guesses himself, always keeping a strong-willed sense of mind. Every time one of his friends asked him if he had feelings for you, he would simply answer no; and that you were like a younger sister to him. 

That first year was lonely for him, he didn’t really know anyone and all his classes kept him away from socializing. The only thing that seemed to have stayed constant was you. You face-timed him at least once a week before he went to bed, never forgetting to remind him how much you missed him, and how much you cared for him. In the simplest words, you were his rock for that first year. 

Seungcheol was never warned about how lonely and jarring your first year could be. The change in place, people, and most importantly the change in the fact that you weren’t there experiencing it beside him. He was never one to believe clichè sayings, but he finally understood what the saying “distance makes the heart grow fonder” really felt like. He had gotten so overwhelmed from the loneliness he even began to write you letters, ones he would never actually send out, as cheesy as it sounds. But knowing that he was addressing them to you brought him some type of solace in that first year.

 A year later you came to study at the same university, and he was elated, to say the least. Finally, he had thought to himself. The one person he hadn’t been able to see, smell, or touch for a year was finally going to be in his proximity. 

Unlike Cheol, you were only able to go to this school through bursaries and scholarships, your parents simply just couldn’t afford to send you to school in a different city otherwise. It reminded you how lucky Seungcheol was to receive support from his parents, getting and going to school was nothing he had to ever think twice about. You knew you could’ve stayed with your family, and gone to school closer to your house, but with Cheol away, it just wasn’t the same. Nothing had felt the same since he left. But this didn’t matter to you the moment you felt his arms wrap around you again. 

You stood there in the airport all alone, eyes searching for a head of freshly dyed blond hair. The moment you heard his voice call your name, you knew you were finally home. 

“Y/n!” An excited, deep voice calls out for you. 

You whip your head around to see him. The man you hadn’t seen in so long, the man you were so desperately in love with. Your best friend. 

“Cheol!” A squeal escapes your lips, you run to him. He pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping his large hands around your smaller frame. Swinging you around like crazy, a laugh bubbles up from your throat. 

“I’ve missed you so much y/n.” Cheol exasperates as he hugs you tighter, leaving a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’ve missed you too Cheol…” You whisper into his chest, breathing in his expensive cologne, not caring that you are in public; staying there to embrace him for a weirdly long period of time. “Never leave for that long again.” 

#seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #scoups #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seungcheol fluff #scoups fluff #scoups angst #seungcheol angst #seventeen angst #wonustars ✧ ﾟ. {works} #wonustars ✧.* {fics: seungcheol’s letters}

[hcuyk]

SYNOPSIS : changmin loves you. the happier ending to kidult

PAIRING : daycareworker!changmin x genderneutral!reader

GENRES : established relationship, daycare au, angst, fluff, features the boyz as children

WARNINGS : mentions of car accident and child neglect

TEASER WORD COUNT : 329

ESTIMATED WORD COUNT : 7-10k

ESTIMATED RELEASE DATE : within the next week. i lied its coming out when i get time cause why tf is my college doing sm

TAGLIST : @stealanity @yourjaylaks @wooyoung-a @kimaya2209 @armysantiny @changminurheart @moonieric @sunfics @deputyjuyeon @simpforsunwoo @nyujjan @i6swoo @karsohn @nilesig @twentysixofmays @changmin-wrlds @mavericsohn @lisori @nanamioo @enhacolor @kyswoo @sunwoahkim @jaerisdiction @yunkiwii @ja4hyvn @choielyssa @crazywittysassy @yenart @sleepymoon27 @st1ngrayz — lmk if you want to be added!

A/N : to all the patient people who stuck with me for two years and waited for this very moment. i never thought this was going to happen, but here we are. jeonghan's teaser will release twelve hours from now

K. COLLECTION [J.CM] ONE | TWO

Tears began to stream down your face, unable to hold them back, and you were thankful Changmin missed it, but when you heard him apologize, you turned around and snapped at him.

“What the hell do you even want?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“You had two weeks to talk to me!” you yelled, fighting the loudness of the rain. The stream of tears ran faster down your cheeks as you brought a hand to your forehead, shielding the rain from getting into your eyes.

“I tried!”

“By knocking on my door for an hour straight at two in the fucking morning?! You could’ve called! You have a key!”

“Well it’s not like you tried either—”

“I got hit by a car!” you screamed, storming towards him as the sky reflected your mood. The thunder was just as loud as the pounding in your heart, and the rain poured just as much as your tears. You pushed Changmin, and behind him you saw a crack of lightning. Your vision started to blur as you didn’t hold back your sobs, wanting to show him the pain he’d inflicted on you ever since he left.

“I got hit by a car, Changmin! What about you? Were you hit by a car?! A truck? Perhaps a plane?” You forced out a manic laugh before continuing. “Wait, no, don’t tell me. Let me guess,-”

“Y/N—”

“-mauled by a bear?”

“I can explain-”

“Tell me I’m goddamn overreacting.” You took a step forward, and instead of pushing him again, you stared, making him look at the pain he created. “Tell me I’m overreacting, Jichang. Look me in my eyes and say it loud and clear.”

“I knew you’d be there for me.”

“I missed you, I needed you-”

“I know.”

“The day I lose you is the day I lose myself.”

“I don’t want you to wake up and realize I’m not the one for you. I don’t want that for us.”

it isn't a vae fic if there isn't angst Y'ALL AREN'T ESCAPING 👹👹 if i take longer than a week with this fic, i'll post a second (happier) teaser

it's been two years guys!! i'll be surprised if anyone sees this at all. if you do, please reblog and share, or even give me some support/hype in the comments. i want everyone who wanted a happy ending to see this <3

#kidult `` oneshot #ji changmin #the boyz #tbz #the boyz timestamps #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #the boyz scenarios #changmin x reader #the boyz imagines #the boyz fanfiction #tbz ff #the boyz reaction #lee sangyeon #jacob bae #kim younghoon #lee hyunjae #lee juyeon #kevin moon #choi chanhee #ju haknyeon #kim sunwoo #eric sohn

[nwjws]

in my head - yjw (teaser)

read here!

; pairing - jungwon x fem!reader

; synopsis - you’ve hated jungwon ever since you two met on the train to hogwarts back in first year; he’s self-centered, lazy, and always coming out for you. now in your seventh year, you’ve been named head girl (woohoo!). unfortunately, the head boy position was given to the one and only yang jungwon (boohoo…). with no other choice, you’re forced to face the annoyingly attractive boy and work with him for the rest of the year - if you can even last that long.

; wc (teaser) - 416 (full story estimated to be 10k)

; release - september 10th.

; tags - ravenclaw! headboy!jungwon, slytherin! headgirl!reader, rivals to lovers, enemies to lovers, hogwarts au (with a modern twist), bc they have tablets and stuff

; warnings - yn trips, flashes people, wants to slap jungwon, just a lot of hostility between them in general..

everyone’s eyes are on you as you stand up at the front of the great hall while the headmaster - professor bang si hyuk - introduces you as this year’s head girl. looking at all the students staring back up at you, you almost feel proud of yourself (keyword: almost). 

you’d think someone would be overjoyed at being acknowledged and recognised enough to have been given such a high position, but you aren’t. 

instead, you’re silently fuming, just barely keeping your temper in check as you plaster a fake smile on your face. your eye twitches as you hear a low chuckle from-

“the head boy, yang jungwon!” the headmaster announces. cheers erupt from around the room, all clapping for their new heads. 

“i can feel the waves of anger practically radiating off of you,” he murmured quietly.

yang jungwon. 

the boy you despised so much. 

listen, you don’t really hate anyone, but you’re pretty sure that what you feel towards the boy you called ‘yang’ is close enough.

in all your six years at hogwarts, you two have constantly been at each other’s throats. arguments often broke out between you in corridors; fights wherein one would end up stupefied or thrown against the wall; even little sabotages against each other that were subtle enough that teachers could pass off as an accident or your own fault rather than the other’s. 

for example, back in third year, yang had tripped you on your way into the great hall after everyone got off the hogwarts express. you had flashed everyone behind you and scraped your knee when you landed on the ground.

although no one saw him do it, you immediately knew who the culprit was, especially when he smirked down at you over his shoulder as he walked ahead. oh how badly you wanted to slap that smile off his face in the moment.

you retaliated the next week by mixing his white laundry with red clothes, so he was forced to attend his classes with pink uniform until he got new shirts. nothing satisfied you more than the glares he sent your way throughout the first day of his pink week, you could feel him boring holes into the back of your head even when you weren’t looking.

now, a sigh escapes you as you think of the (eventful) year coming up. spending the last year of your studies with your arch nemesis wasn't what you had in mind, but it surely can't be that bad, right?

; taglist (closed!) - @wonuslust @enhacatalog @makiswrld @forjungwons @yebin14 @lovelovelovebts @amanda-archives @beomgyusonlywife @bbinwrld @em-asian @enhamysunshines @ahnneyong @jungwonscafe send an ask or comment on this post to be tagged when the full fic is up!

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ mi's works #k labels #yang jungwon #jungwon #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon x reader #enhypen x reader #jungwon imagines #jungwon oneshots #jungwon ff #enhypen fic #hogwarts au #enhypen #enhypen jungwon #ੈ♡˳ - in my head

[ataleofcrowns]

Chapter 11 Progress [14/MAY]

Hey everyone, it's been a minute since my last update on the blog!! Happy mother's day to all the moms out there 💖

By the time of writing this, I have 40k words written for CH11, and I am both happy and mildly horrified to report that CH11 is looking up to be the biggest chapter yet by a mile. It's very likely the total word count will break through 90k words, primarily due to the LI routes.

First, I've finished the first draft for X's route for CH11 and am mildly exasperated by my inability to properly estimate how long these sections will be.

I thought it would amount to 10k at most, but X's route ended up with 18k words. This is mostly due to all the Imperial Court variations in their opening scene, because I'm a masochist. A single playthrough of X's route is more like 14k words, though, depending on the variations you get.

I'm also close to finishing R's route and have 8k words written for it so far. Their and A's routes will be a little less in word count, since they got more content in CH10, but they'll both likely still be 10-12k words. D's will likely be closer to X's route in word count, around 14-15k.

Altogether, this chapter's LI routes alone will likely be close to 60k for all four. So that leaves the rest of the 30k for the main plot, which I haven't started yet. I literally only have words written for R and X, as well as bits and snippets for A and D so far lol.

Please pray for me so that I can release this chapter in July and give you all a summer miracle 🙏🏼

Anyway, enough about the word count!! I've got some preview posting to catch up to, so beneath the cut you'll find various snippets for X and R's routes in CH11 that were posted on the Patreon.

Hopefully I'll be able to post some for A and D soon as well, once I dig into their routes in the coming weeks.

Here's a small preview of a bit you might see occur across all LI routes, though it still depends on who is appointed to your Imperial Court (and the Lord Samal referenced here is specific to X's route as well):

“Chief Minister, is this allowed? There must be procedure for the appointment of officials—” “It is all at the Crown’s discretion,” Chief Minister Karwan states simply, turning away from the representative again to face forward instead. “But this is highly unusual!” The Minister breathes an exasperated sigh. “Oh, quiet down! Were you not using the same technicalities to get your way a moment ago, you insolent dog?” “Do not speak to me that way!” Lord Samal erupts. “I serve Mîr Behram!” “And I was already serving the Crowns of this Empire when your master was still suckling at the teat!” the Chief Minister snaps. “Now be a good boy and come to heel, we have many more matters to discuss.”

Here's a preview for X's route:

“Why do you have that dagger?” You turn to look at $aname, taken aback by how stunned $athey appears. “$xname gave it to me.” “$cxthey gave it to you?” $aname repeats incredulously, glancing back down at the dagger in your hands. “Did $xthey tell you who it originally belonged to?” “It belonged to someone else?” You assumed $xname was the only one who owned it, but looking at it again, you can notice subtle wear and tear despite its well-cared-for state. Little scratches along its sheath, the edges of pearl looking a little worn along the handle. “Whose was it?” “$cxtheir mother’s.” Your fingers tighten around its sheath in shock, then twitch with the urge to put it away. “$cxtheir mother’s? Why would…” You look down at the dagger in complete disbelief. “Why would $xthey give it to me?”

And finally, here's a preview for R's route:

Your hands reach for $rthem, but then halt and hover in mid-air, uncertain of whether you should even touch $rthem while $rthey’s in this state. “It’s alright,” Perjin speaks quietly from beside you. “You can hold $rtheir hand, if you wish. Your magic won’t cause any problems.”  You take a slow, deep breath, calming yourself as you sit down on the edge of the bed and gently take $rname’s hand in yours. “$crtheir fingers are cold.” Alarmed, you rub $rtheir hand, feeling how clammy and cool $rtheir skin is. You turn to Perjin. “Why does $rthey feel cold? What’s happening to $rthem?” 

That was it for this update ✨

I’m posting further updates and CH11 previews on the Patreon for all tiers, as well as all sorts of fun extra LI/Crown snippets, so if you’d like more AToC content while you wait for CH11, consider pledging!!

As always, thanks so much for your patience and support 💖

#a tale of crowns #interactive fiction #progress report #preview

[jaeyunsz]

are you ridin? (m) - l. heeseung [teaser]

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader (she/her) [ft. sunghoon]

genre: biker!heeseung, racer!heeseung, tsundere!heeseung, strangers to lovers au, fwb!sunghoon, smut, angst, fluff

warnings: smut, alcohol consumption, illegal racing, more to be added when it is finalized

word count: estimated 10k+

release date: june, 2022

summary: when sunghoon dragged you to that one race, you didn’t think you would meet a new face - a handsome one to add. with heeseung’s return, the rivalry with his old best friend sunghoon did too. now stuck in between two boys, will you have the courage to face their secrets and your true feelings?

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Your breath hitched in your throat when you spotted the familiar motorcycle come in first, followed by the other racers. Everybody was screaming his name. You weren’t sure if you felt good because of finally having a name for his face or taken aback since he had some untold history with Sunghoon. 

He took off his helmet, fixing his hair as sweat dripped down the side of his pretty face. He got off the motorcycle, putting his helmet away before starting to walk through the crowd. You watched as people threw themselves at him, his name still on everybody’s mouth. It felt like he didn’t really want the attention as he pushed everyone away and walked towards you, his eyes staring into yours with a smirk on his face. 

‘’I won.’’ He said with a bright smile on his eyes. You could swear that you saw stars in his eyes when he talked. 

‘’You did.’’ You agreed, smiling back at the black haired boy. ‘’A deal is a deal I guess. My name-’’

‘’Y/N.’’ You heard somebody say behind you, cutting you off. A voice that you didn’t want to hear at the moment. 

‘’Sunghoon.’’ Heeseung called his name with a stern tone. Not very amused to see the silver haired boy. 

‘’Heeseung.’’ Sunghoon mumbled, not making eye contact with the taller boy. Sunghoon walked right next to you, taking your hand in his. ‘’Baby, come on let’s go home.’’ 

You give him a surprised look before taking your hand off his grip, letting out a scoff. ‘’Suddenly I’m ‘baby’ huh? Sorry Sunghoon but me and Heeseung have already made plans for tonight.’’ 

‘’You can’t be serious right now.’’ Sunghoon sneered, forming a first, his knuckles turning white. ‘’Y/N, you should have known better than hanging out with assholes.’’

You snickered, taking a step towards Heeseung so you were standing next to him. Grabbing his hand, you started dragging him back to his motorcycle. 

‘’Well, that’s the reason I’m going with Heeseung and not you.’’

#enhypen smut #heeseung smut #enhypen scenarios #heeseung scenarios #sunghoon smut #sunghoon scenarios

[fugobf]

Ace attorney fic's i've written or in the process of writing <33

Heads up!! All of my works are SFW, all of them have no archive warnings that apply expect one which has been stated :))

Narumitsu fic, completed, one shot, 17k words: summary: ____________________ If you had told Miles that he would fly his friend to Germany to help him with legal papers, would go out drinking with said friend, dress up in hideous outfits and embarrass each other in public, get drunk again, have an emotional sentimental moment in a public park, and then perhaps confess your feelings to said friend, Miles would never have believed you in a million years. Now, if you tried to tell Miles this was actually reality and not an alternate universe, he would look at you crazy and question if you were in the right mental state. ____________________

phoenix and trucy centric (father and daughter fic), completed, one shot, 12k words summary: __________________________ Phoenix and Trucy bake a post-Halloween cake together. Amidst the laughter and joy, a small accident occurs, causing Trucy to feel immense guilt due to her past trauma. However, Phoenix's unwavering reassurance and support become a beacon of comfort. He shows her that mistakes are a natural part of life, guiding her through the accident with patience and understanding. Through this simple baking mishap, their bond strengthens, and he teachers his daughter that mistakes are opportunities for growth and not reasons for shame.

_________________________

Narumitsu fic (Major Character Death), completed, one shot with sprinkled in poems followed by another chapter with a longer poem, 13k words summary: Two soulmates, destined to be together in every universe, but not destined to be together in a single lifetime. Perhaps this lifetime wasn't the right time, but maybe one day they'll get their happy ever after.

Blackmadhi fic, in progress, estimated 5 chapters, current word count: 10k words summary: Little did Nahyuta know, amidst the unforeseen circumstances and the melancholic atmosphere, a chance encounter with the food delivery guy, Simon Blackquill, would begin to fill the void left by his family’s absence, sparking an unexpected connection during this unforeseen holiday ordeal.

Narumitsu fic, in progress, current word count: 12k words, estimated 5-6 chapters summary: Phoenix finds himself in a whirlwind of emotions as he contemplates proposing to his partner of many years, Miles Edgeworth. With the support of his dynamic team—Apollo, Athena, and Trucy—Phoenix embarks on a quest to plan the ideal proposal. Among the brainstorming session for wildly creative proposal ideas, Phoenix remains unaware that Miles is also grappling with his own proposal plans involving Kay and Sebastian. As Phoenix and Miles seek the perfect proposal, they're lost in the maze of love, both unsure how to ask the big question.

#ace attorney #ace attorney fic #narumistu #narumitsu fic #trucy wright #fic reccomendations #fanfic writer #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #blackmadhi #simon blackquill #nahyuta sahdmadhi

[accio-sriracha]

Wips tags!!!

Thank you for the tagg @ivomoon (I messed it up the first time oops)

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it and then tag as many people as you have WIPs

Oh.... oh god. Okay um... I'm gonna put the ships and estimated word count, and I'm only gonna put the ones with like... some semblance of being organized?? Cause there's so many😭😭

Feel free to ask about as many as you want!!

~~~♤~~~

1. The Scars Kept Hidden - Drarry (12k words so far)

2. The Roadtrip - Wolfstar, Jegulily (500)

3. Understood - Wolfstar (450)

4. Silence - Wolfstar (430)

5. Empty Promises - Drarry (2,300)

6. Marauder Ever After - Wolfstar, Jegulus (4,200)

7. Wherefore Art Thou? - Wolfstar (600)

8. Panic - Drarry (900)

10. Revenge - Wolfstar (10k)

11. If It Were You, It Would Be Us - Jegulus (3k)

12. My Brother's Best Friend - Jegulus (1k)

13. Waking Up Beside You - Wolfstar (2,200)

14. If We Should Fall - Wolfstar (2k)

15. Puppy Love - Wolfstar (6,200)

16. Catching Feelings - Wolfstar (6,400)

17. The Play - Jegulus (2k)

18. Wolfstar Smut - Collective oneshots (I don't even know and don't really want to)

19. The Last I Love You: The First Goodbye- Wolfstar (1k)

20. Chasing Stars - Jegulus (3k)

21. Jegulily?? Title TBD - Jegulily (400)

22. How To Pranks Sirius Black - Wolfstar (5k)

23. Fiendfyre - Drarry (1k)

24. The Marauders and Lily Evans (600)

25. Finally - Jily (7k)

26. The Summer We Fell - Wolfstar (4k)

27. Everything I'm Not (Everything She Is) - Drarry (3k)

28. The Boy Who Lived - Drarry (1k)

29. Through Dangers of War - Drarry (3k)

30. XOXO - Wolfstar (2k)

31. The Slytherin Bet - Drarry (500)

32. Life After Death - Drarry (150)

33. Part of The Family - Drarry (50)

34. Fatal Attraction - Drarry (200)

35. In Your Shoes- Wolfstar (100)

36. Returned to Sender - The Black Brothers (300)

37. The Monster - The Marauders (400)

38. Fated Misunderstandings - Wolfstar, Jegulus (40)

39. A Tale From the Beast Himself - Wolfstar (100)

40. In Those 12 Years - Wolfstar (200)

41. Pretend to Love Me - Jegulus, Wolfstar (300)

42. May Our Love Outlast Us - Wolfstar (100)

43. Fuck Up and Kiss Me - Jegulus (100)

44. Healing Doesn't Mean Forgetting - Wolfstar (200)

45. The Petrification of Beauty - Wolfstar, Jegulily (100)

46. In This Moment, I Am Nothing But Human - Wolfstar (100)

47. Not Without Him - The Black Brothers, Minor Jegulus (1k)

48. If Not You Than Nothing - Drarry (2k)

49. Tell Me To Stop - Jily (300)

50. Friends to Lovers, but They Were Never Really Just Friends - Wolfstar (60)

51. Fuck You - Jegulus Microfic - (200)

52. Schedule - Wolfstar Microfic - (50)

53. The Next Morning - Drarry (200)

54. My Marauders - Poly Marauders x Reader Microfic for an ask like ages ago that I still haven't finished 😭 (200)

55. Hearing You - Wolfstar - (2k)

56. Dreaming Of You - Wolfstar (700)

57. Who Wouldn't Love You - Jegulily (100)

58. Untitled Blairon for another ask I haven't finished- (100)

59. James Walks In - Wolfstar Microfic (70)

60. Come and Get Me - Drarry Microfic (40)

61. Everything to Lose - Jegulus (400)

62. Wish Me Good Luck - Drarry (2k)

63. Taking Off Your Clothes - Wolfstar (1k)

64. The World Around Us - Drarry (500)

65. A Day in The Life of James Potter - James Potter (300)

66. The One Where They Take a Break - Wolfstar, Jegulus, Jily (200)

67. The Time Remus Lupin got Drunk - Wolfstar (600)

The rest are either too short or don't have enough details figured out to really come up with anything haha

Feel free to ask me about as many as you want!! Some are obviously a lot closer to being finished than others.

Tags... so I don't really want to tag 67 people?? I'm just gonna say open tags here guys and just reblog with all of you wips!! I wanna ask you about them too <33

#wips #my wips #current wip

[quinloki]

Commission Info

I'm not currently accepting commissions, I'm just getting the info down for reference and use.

Things I’ll do:

Erotica | Romance | Adventure | Action | Kinks of all Kinds | Yandere | Angst | Fluff | OCs | Furries | Canon x Canon | Hypnosis | Age play | non-con | dub-con | Monsters | AUs | etc.

Things I won’t do:

Write real people | underage smut

You can ask if you aren’t certain, the worst I’ll say is no. No judgement.

Prices:

All word counts are nebulous, I won’t stop a 500 word fic at word 500, and a 1,500 word fic might be 1,360 words. These are just guidelines for charge purposes.

-:- 500 words (Drabble) – 20$ -:- Short and sweet, these include 1-3 characters max, and minimal setup. Good for first or final moments, or something with an open ending. Here there be head canons, I don’t often write this short.

-:- 1,000 words (Short One-Shot) – 30$ -:- Shorter, and maybe a little sweeter. Still solid for 1-3 characters, maybe 4 if it’s a single scene. Little more detail, little more action. A good number of Kinktober 2023 items hovered around here.

-:- 2,000-3,000 words (Longer One-Shot)  – 50$ -:- The average of most of my one shots, honestly. Plenty of room for some set up, a little world building, best kept to 1-2 characters, but if you’re not worried about the set up, you can certainly go closer to 4. Elevator Music falls into this category.

-:- 5,000+ (Longest One-Shot) - 80$ -:- Here there be dragons. My one-shots don’t normally break 5k as it is, but I got about 8k on one before I turned it into a multi-chapter story. But if you’re talking a lot of set up, or the inclusion of several characters, it’s not hard to hit this level of words. There’s room in this bad boy for several tropes and a lot of sex. >.> (this will never break 10k words) At almost 4k words, Magic Trick is the closest.

Multiple Chapters requests are done case by case. Estimates are going to be 50$ a chapter, since that’s the average length of most of my chapters for what I write, with a minimum of 150$.

Multiple chapter requests will not be done any faster than one chapter a month, and may take longer based on life circumstances.

How will the process go?

You tell me what you want! \o/ Reader type, characters, vibe are bare minimums needed.

2. I tell you if I accept! ~ Some negotiation can occur here regarding parameters and length.

3. I’ll give you the price, and you decide if you can afford it. ~ Currently I’m only accepting Ko-Fi for payments.

Legal CYA stuff.

I won’t start on a piece until I’m paid, and have 30 days to deliver from the time I’m paid.

If I can’t make the initial deadline we can talk about either an extension or I can refund you, and we can try again later.

Within 15 days of the time I’m paid you can request a cancellation and refund, but beyond that no refunds are issued unless I initiate it. You agree to this as part of the commission contract, I’m not going to fight about it. However, if the piece is done prior no refund will be issued. (I’m just saying this to avoid someone waiting until day 23 or something and requesting a refund, and also to avoid giving someone a finished piece 3 days later and having them request a refund on day 14.)

Once the piece is done, small, editorial adjustments can be requested, but anything more than that *may* result in additional charges before the piece is released. I’m pretty flexible though, so don’t panic. Understand that any story will have variables even within a given set of parameters, and what I write might not be 100% what you expected, but you’re paying for my time, and if you ask for a full re-write of something I won’t be bullied into doing that for free.

I highly recommend you read at least some of my works before commissioning me to get a feel for my vibe and style. If you don't like reading on Tumblr, I'm currently on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same user name of Quinloki.

-:- Table of Consent -:-

#pinned post addon #static page

[chayscribbles]

THE GEMINI HEIST ☆ a writing excerpt

i've reached 10k on this draft so it's time for a little holiday gift: an excerpt!!!

for some context: this is from Gabi's POV. she, Leo, and Euna are at a stolen parts dropoff. while Leo and Euna are inside a room talking with their client, knock-off droid maker Oke Larue, Gabi is stationed outside, poised to hack into the security system, which includes a bunch of security droids, if anything goes sideways, but has been specifically instructed not to do it unless Leo gives the order.

and then... this happens.

words: 1379

gemini heist wip intro

“I’m afraid I can’t give you your money, Callisto.”

Gabi’s attention snapped back to the discussion she was eavesdropping on at Larue’s words. She paused her typing.

“And why is that?” said Leo. The video feed on Gabi’s datapad was too grainy for her to make out Leo’s facial expression, but if this turn unnerved her in any way, it didn’t show in her tone.

“As much as you value the integrity of your business practices,” Larue said, “I value the integrity of my droids.” He stepped up to the droid beside Leo, examined it, then turned to the captain. “And I do not appreciate your attempts to undermine that.”

Leo cocked her head slightly. “I believe you are mistaken. No attempts are being made on my part to undermine anything of yours.”

“Someone remotely connected to one of my droids the moment you arrived at the facility,” Larue went on, pacing in front of Leo and Euna. “You’re trying to hack into them, aren’t you? To take control of them?”

Gabi froze. Shit, she thought. Did he detect me? But I haven’t even connected to anything yet—

“I am your most trusted parts supplier,” Leo argued. “I have been nothing but honest with you in the past. It truly hurts me that you would accuse me of such a thing despite many pleasant deals between us.”

“I’ve been hearing whispers about you lately, Callisto. Things that make me question your reliability. Tell me—” Larue stopped pacing in front of Leo and stared her down. “Would more than half of your crew desert you if you were as trustworthy as you claim?”

Leo visibly stiffened. Whatever composed reply she had prepared immediately dissolved. Instead, she snarled, “The internal affairs of my crew are none of your business, and have nothing to do with our arrangement.”

Gabi held her breath as Larue stared the captain down. Leo was taller than average for a Tharekkani and knew how to use that to make herself look imposing, but the droid-maker’s words had clearly rattled her enough to make her shrink. Her arms were now crossed over her chest, and she almost seemed to lean away from Larue as he stood over her.

Larue said, “Seize them.”

Gabi had no time to fully register the two droids in the room pouncing on her crewmates when clunking footsteps sounded in her direction from the door. She jerked her head up from her datapad. 

The droid stationed at the door was storming towards her.

“Shit!” 

She scrambled to her feet and backed away, only to slam into the wall behind her. Her hands shook so much that she nearly dropped the datapad—

The datapad!

Remembering the device in her hands, she rapidly scrolled through the code and found this droid’s section. With shaky fingers, she punched in the sequence to access its commands. Red text chided her. One of the symbols was wrong. 

The droid was closing in on her now, casting a long shadow. With her back fully pressed against the wall, Gabi frantically rewrote the code. This time, new lines appeared in green. She scanned them for a specific sequence— “loyalty protocol”— and didn’t bother double checking that it was the right one before selecting the entire block.

The droid raised its arm.

Gabi sucked in a breath and deleted the code.

The droid stopped in its tracks.

Heart pounding, Gabi peered up at it, still not daring to move. It loomed motionlessly over her, standing at what she estimated to be about six feet tall. It was so close that she could almost hear the whirring of the drives in its torso. Only after a moment did it dawn on Gabi that it was waiting for her to speak.

Her eyes sought out the unit number painted on its chest in bold white letters.

“B-34?” she read aloud.

Its eyes lit up in a soft blue with some kind of recognition.

“I-I’m Gabi,” she went on.

The droid cocked its head like a curious animal, emitting two short tones that almost sounded like it was saying her name. “Bap beep.”

“You’re not… you’re not going to attack me anymore, are you?” she asked.

It shook its head with a series of incensed beeps as if the idea of it attacking her was preposterous. Gabi let out a sigh of relief and awe. It was so strange to have this massive killing machine under her command, and she couldn’t quite believe she had been able to reset its loyalty so thoroughly.

A loud crash from inside reminded her of the situation at hand.

“Can you help me?” she asked the droid, pointing at the door. “My crew is in there, and I have to help get them out. They’re the two humans being attacked by two droids like you—”

Without hesitating, B-34 whirled around, stormed to the door, and bashed it open. With the clinking of its metal parts swiveling around its joints to reposition themselves, one of its hands swiftly transformed into a small laser cannon, and it opened fire into the room.

Clutching her datapad, Gabi ran after it, making sure to stay in the shelter of the door frame, and peered inside. Larue had two droids protecting him in the corner of the room with plasma shields as he watched the chaos unfold. B-40 had the struggling Leo grappled, dangling her a few feet off the air. Not too far away, Euna was fully engaged in a fist fight with B-92, both throwing punches so fast it made Gabi’s head spin. When Euna fought, it wasn’t as much a battle for dominance as it was a performance. Her movements were graceful despite her build. Every manoeuvre looked calculated, choreographed, executed not only with power, but with style and finesse.

“Don’t hit the humans!” Gabi hissed as one of B-34’s laser shots narrowly missed hitting Euna in the thigh.

The droid fired again, this time getting B-40 squarely in the shoulder. It ungracefully released Leo, who ungracefully ended up on her ass on the ground. At this, Euna managed to shove her own opponent far enough for her to fire at B-34 with her cybernetic arm. The droid shuddered and stumbled back as the blast of pink energy hit its torso.

“Don’t shoot it!” Gabi screeched. “It’s helping us! I hacked into it!”

“So you are messing with my droids!” Larue yelled, his voice distorted by the buzzing of the semi-translucent shields. “All of this talk of being honest—”

“For fuck’s sake,” Leo growled, scrambling to her feet. She made a dash for the door. “Li! Leave the droid alone! Let’s get out of here!”

But Euna was too absorbed in the fight to stop. Or maybe she was having too much fun. A wild grin threatened to tear her face in half as she pummeled the droid with hits, plastic clashing against metal. Her jacket had come off somewhere in the fight, and her broad shoulders glistened with sweat and oil smears. But B-92 was just a bit faster and stronger than her. It grabbed her wrist mid-swing and threw her onto the ground, then pinned her there with its heel and bent down to finish the job.

Gabi urged her new droid, “Do something!” 

B-34 raised its canon, aimed, and fired.

A hole appeared in B-92’s neck. Euna crammed her fingers into the jagged opening and tore its head off with a guttural yell. Sparks flew out of the wires sticking out from its neck. The droid’s decapitated body jerked, stiffened, then keeled over and collapsed with a clatter.

Gabi’s breath hitched in her throat as Euna tossed the droid’s severed head aside, then effortlessly leapt to her feet. Chest heaving, she shoved her dampened hair out of her face with one swift movement of her chiselled arm and surveyed the room for any more foes. Catching Gabi’s eye, a triumphant smile spread across her face. Gabi suddenly felt a little dizzy.

“Li!” Leo, who had joined Gabi by the door by now, barked. Her gruff voice broke Gabi out of her trance, and only then did she notice several more of Larue’s droids coming alive along the wall, much more than they could handle. “Let’s fucking go!”

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing community #wip gemini heist #gh excerpts #okay but keep in mind i've been writing this on and off for months now so it's not like i've torn through 10k in two weeks kjdfkjs #anyways: AR1 handshake GH: starting with a botched stolen parts dropoff #DIRECTOR'S COMMENTARY TIME #i used dnd combat (specifically with the star wars 5e system) to figure out the actiony parts haha #that's how Leo ended up grappled #and Gabi taking over the droid was not planned until she rolled a really good technology check to reset the droid's loyalty protocol kjdf #so i guess she has a pet killer droid now? lmaooo

[artsyunderstudy]

Happy Sunday!  

Posting early, as per usual. 

I realized that this week is probably the last time I’ll be doing this for a little while.  Sad!  Mirrors is coming to an end, and while I do have plans to write more, I am probably going to be doing more drawing for a while.  I really want to do more comics of scenes from the books (chapter 61 CO, chapter 16 AWTWB, chapter 62 AWTWB... heck if I could just illustrate every scene from AWTWB I would) so you have that to look forward to!

I am almost done with the last chapter.  The goal is to have it done by the end of today.  I estimated at the beginning of this journey that my chapters would be like, 6-8k range, but pretty much since chapter 5 it’s been about 10k per, and this one is no exception.  I may end up breaking it up into a final chapter and an epilogue, however you can expect it all to go up on Friday either way.  So does it matter?  Unsure!  

That being said, here are seven sentences.

Crowley, my chest feels hollowed out. There’s a big gaping hole there. It makes me think of Hampshire after the fire, tree’s blackened and leafless, soot hovering in the air.  

I was somewhere, just a moment ago.  Wood and sky and fire in the tips of my fingers and bleeding from my mouth.

I was with Simon.  We cast a spell.  

Tags and hellos for @whatevertheweather @palimpsessed @captain-aralias @bookish-bogwitch @cutestkilla  @johnwgrey @takitalks  @stardustasincocaine @tea-brigade @bazzybelle  @ileadacharmedlife @aristocratic-otter  @ivelovedhimthroughworse  @urban-sith @mostlymaudlin  @fatalfangirl @facewithoutheart @confused-bi-queer @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @basiltonbutliketheherb @letraspal  @martsonmars @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

#simon snow #baz pitch #simon snow fanfic #six sentence sunday #snowbaz fanfic #artsyfic

[lover-of-mine]

I was having one of those moments writing the Buck breakdown fic where I'm questioning all my abilities ever and I was beating myself up over how long it's taking to write and then I checked the word count for the first time in a while and she's already at over 10k words which means she's officially my longest buddie fic and my estimation of "oh it will have like 15k tops" was so so so so wrong.

#no questioning today ksosksooapaksps #i can do this #buck breakdown fic #thoughts thoughts thoughts #im guessing ill reach 20k? #im not sure if ill reach 30 tho #maybe

[pinktom]

Just have to say that your writing is phenomenal! Lover’s Spit has consumed me entirely…I also appreciate you updating tags to provide estimated update dates. Totally gives me something to look forward to! But imagine my shock when I logged in to see the “March 12” target replaced with “welp just scrapped 10k words for the sake of doubling the fic”. Now I’m a mess of contradictions! So sad that there wasn’t an update but so freaking excited that we will get more chapters in this amazing gorefag universe you and k3u created. Ughhhhh I love you despite the torture! So many questions about what is to come from the increase in chapters, eeek!!! Also, very excited about Invictus as well! Anyway, I think you’re the cats’ pajamas. Thank you so much for sharing your amazing talent!

First of all, thank you dearly! ❤️ You are far too kind, and it fills me with so much joy to hear you've enjoyed their strange, dense, constantly cringe-inducing love story.

As for the tag update—I felt like such a worm for doing that. 🤦🏻‍♀️

Mostly because I know some people browse the tags and I hate being flaky. Dumping an entire chapter into the "scrap heap" doc also made me die a little inside, especially since half of it cannot be repurposed.

However, I had zero inkling, at that moment, that I was going to change the direction of the story. It was by total coincidence! @k3uuu and I were reminiscing about the original ending, and I think—knowing the upcoming chapter was leading up to trigger the final climax—I realized it would be the point of no return, after which I could no longer incorporate so much of what the original story was about.

So I sat on it, did some hard thinking, some free writes, chatted it out with k3u. And now the ending is infinitely better than what I originally intended, and I'm so glad I took a step back before it was too late!

#tomarry #my fic #asks #ls tag #lover’s spit

[leecherish]

1, 2, 3, 6, 9, 10, 12 15, 17, 20 from the deep writer asks <3

1. what's the fic youre most proud of?

hmm, right now? might be "the price of growth", it went through a lot of iterations, and i'm really satisfied with the end result! the entire fugo zine was such a nice and pleasant experience, i think i gained a lot from it <3

2. what's a fic that took you to an emotional/dark/hard place?

"a brand new doomsday" is a fairly old fic by now, but it was a very mentally exhausting process to write that one. i needed to dissect my own relationship with grief pretty thoroughly, which is why it remains probably my rawest fic (even though i'm not that proud of it anymore). more recently probably "if not in this life then maybe in the next", although i would rather phrase it as me writing it as a result of being in a dark place emotionally. same with "the eyes deceive". there's a lot of unspoken parts of myself in those ones haha.

3. what fic are you emotionally attached to?

oh, all of them! but if i had to pick just one, it would probably be "the eyes deceive". like i just mentioned, i wrote that after the hardest winter of my life, and it can be seen on a lot of its aspects. ofc it's still a fanfiction, not a vent post, but let's just say bruno's "i want to escape from this body... or at least make it my own" came from. a Place

6. what's the hardest part of the writing process for you?

editing hell. i've become pretty proficient at banging out loose first, second and third drafts, but the process of making it consistent and flow well is always a lot of painful and hard work >_< i need to somehow improve myself when it comes to this, because right now, the aspect of having to edit anything over 10k just feels... literally impossible haha.

9. what's your writing process like?

that’s a difficult question to answer. it really depends on various things, such as my mental state, how much time i have, etc... but if i had to simplify and generalize it as much as possible:

get the idea for a fic

write a loose draft of what i want it to contain, maybe some scene fragments or pieces of dialogue that appeared in my head

sleep on it, sit down to refine it, continously adding new details. minimizing the research at this stage, as well as looking for the perfect synonyms. that can come at the editing phase

connect the standalone scenes one way or another. finish draft,

enter editing hell. put on a three-hour piano/post-rock/lofi hip-hop/whatever helps me focus in that moment. suffer. take breaks.

once finished, bask in the euphoria then sleep on it.

proofread it one last time then if i decide to post it, forward it to my beta and then post it to ao3. experience the greatest high of life.

idk if this is useful for anyone sgdshdg if you have any specific questions about my writing process then idk. shoot

10. how has writing positively impacted your mental health or overall mood?

oh, it’s a great outlet for various things! it helps me to express things i struggled expressing, gives me a place to put the emotions that are difficult to deal with. in other words, it’s cathartic, even if i don’t end up posting it. and most of all, it’s connecting with people. knowing that people read my fics and get something out of it, be that a smile or perhaps even a tear, it’s unimaginable and insanely flattering, not to mention getting comments or fanart! it really made me feel like i left some sort of mark on the fandom and in this world, as sappy as it sounds.

12. What’s your perfect environment to create/write?

hmm i can write basically anywhere tbh. but i do really like having a hot drink nearby at all times!

15. How do you think your writing as improved over time?

hard to say! but i think my unsage of the language improves with every piece i write. i think i particularly improved a lot when it comes to descriptive text and metaphors, i used to be shy with those. and i think i’m better with pacing lately too, although that part is always difficult to estimate!

17. What’s the best engagement/interaction/feedback you’ve received from someone who’s read your work?

WHEW how could i mention just one. receiving fanart blows my mind every time, it’s like, you mean the words i wrote, projected an image into your head??? AND you drew it?? it’s bonkers!! same with people writing comments, i don’t get a lot of them (i doubt any writer my scale does), but i save all of them and occasionally reread them when i need a little pick-me-up <3 but the most memorable interactions i possibly had is when one time i would mention a fic of mine on twitter, and people would go “YOU WROTE THAT??”. it really made me feel like i have reached the people i wanted to reach, and that is such a precious feeling!

20. What’s the greatest gift you’ve gotten from your writing?

believe it or not, i can actually feel my writing abilities paying off whenever i’m writing assignments for school LOL. i just do the same thing as i would do with a fic, first i bang out the draft, and then continously refine it... i’m grateful for all the experience i accumulated thanks to writing, it really helps me out in these cases! but most of all, like i mentioned before, it’s the connection that i establish with it, with my friends and everyone who reads my fics. it’s a teeny-tiny community of its own! posting my fics online and having people read them makes me feel heard and understood, and most of all, accepted. sappy again i know, but i wasn’t always given these things during some of my life stages! but it was good to learn that those never last, and ultimately, all of us deserve to make their voice heard etc. cheese cheese cheese

#[booming voice] it's oversharing time #thank you for the asks <3 #my writing #<- idk feels right to put it into this tag. might change my mind abt it tho #if you see any mistakes here no you don't. #<- burnt out and exhausted and kinda beyond caring abt grammar and english isnt a real language anyway

[tmwwriting]

Title: Guinevere Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI) Chapter: 3/X Word Count: 7.1K Tags/Warnings: Lucas Grey x female reader. Eugene Cobb x female reader. No use of Y/N. Explicit sexual content (18+, MDNI). Smut. Romance. Angst. Infidelity. Jealousy. Pining. No happy ending. Age Difference (ages never stated but reader is implied to be younger than both Cobb and Grey, who are in their mid/late 50s). Spoiler Title. Slow Burn (Grey/Reader). Minor Original Characters. Canon Hitman characters will have cameos in this. A/N: A Grey POV! He has a very different narrative voice than the reader-insert, so this was fun (and hopefully not too jarring a shift)! He'll get 1-2 more chapters later on, my current estimate is 10-11 chapters total. But this was also supposed to be a 10K oneshot so maybe don't listen to me.

AO3: (X)

"Guinevere grew grey in the grey shadow  All things losing who at all things grasped."   - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fall of Arthur

The dark, crisp frames look like still screens, not live feeds. Perfectly placed props: a stage, set and waiting between shows. There's not even a draft, no careless gust of air to catch the curtains framing bulletproof glass, or the table runners that seem to stretch for miles, draped over the finest mahogany money can buy. It could be a painting: A Study in Excess. Or, Destination: Sotheby’s. 

The penthouse windows let in no sound at all, so even the audio track lies eerily flat, the clamor of the streets not daring to travel up this high, as if there's a giant Do Not Disturb sign on ivory towers. Only the rain taps the softest of cadences against the glass panes, and still not enough for the mics to pick up; there’s no one inside to even hear except three men at their post, armed to the teeth like a bear trap, and a lone woman. Everyone else has gone home and the penthouse lies in its practiced silence.

Grey takes it all in from the corner of the surveillance room, tucked in the shadows between the door frame and the adjacent wall. One of the new guys—an earnest former SWAT officer, surname Fitzgerald, recommended by another guard on this particular squad—nearly jumps out of his skin when he catches Lucas in the reflection of a screen that goes dark. 

"I'll take watch. Cover the lobby downstairs," Grey tells him. Since you’re not doing shit up here. Fitz has the decency to look somewhat abashed; then there's the other guard on the far side of the monitors. That one keeps his gaze locked onto those screens, probably hoping to avoid becoming collateral damage. It’s a tad unfair, given Grey's propensity for invisibility when he wants, and so he relents only a little, arms coming uncrossed as he jerks his head towards the door when the two of them hesitate. "Unless you two want to spend the rest of the shift up here.” 

That has them up and moving like he yanked at the strings of their marionettes.

No need to look like Christmas came early, boys. Grey watches them both leave through narrowed eyes and a barely restrained scorn. He can hear the other supervisor already, disagreeing with the moral of the story before Grey even has a chance to finish it. 'The guys smile, and you want to write them up for it?' he'll ask, and shake his head. Lucas still thinks it's worth a mention in the performance reviews. Unwarranted glee: five demerits.

He closes the door behind them, with the snap of the latch one final reprimand, and sits in a chair against the wall.

It’s a good exercise in patience. The sniper's prayer—not words, nothing so trite, but the breathing—runs through him on instinct in moments like this, the muscle memory of stillness triggering the old rhythm that means peace. Some habits die hard. There had been plenty of boring moments in his previous job, stalking, hunting, in the moments before an ambush springs. It’s different, now, with men he hasn’t fought or sacrificed or bled with; these men he has to trust from a resume or someone's good word. Different, now that his mandate is to protect, not to harm. Regret isn't his style, but on nights like these...

His phone vibrates one hour, forty-three minutes, and fifteen seconds later. On their way, then. 

By the time the two SUVs race into frame of the cameras in the underground parking lot, Grey's gotten his resting heart rate low enough to shock most physicians; all that moves are his eyes, the only sign of life in the entire penthouse.

Five minutes later he’s watching Cobb disappear into the coat room off the penthouse foyer and reemerge sans jacket, then hesitate at the end of the hallway leading to his guest's room, weight shifting from foot to foot along with his options. Interesting. Grey's hardly a relationship expert, but women tend to not like being abandoned for work meetings. Standard wisdom. Difficult to set the mood after those choices. He wouldn't be surprised if she had locked Cobb out.

Cobb takes a few steps towards her room like he thinks it might be worth the effort to try knocking—Grey sits back, calculating if he has time to grab some popcorn for the inevitable fight—but then Cobb changes his mind, and heads first to the kitchen and the comfort of a glass of whiskey, and then to his own suite down the opposite hallway. He walks slowly, though. Slower than Grey's ever seen. 

He shouldn't even be on shift still, and so he stays in the surveillance room and leaves his boss to his wanderings and potential regrets. They can reconvene in the morning. 

Another glance at his watch, and Lucas tenses back a yawn until the clench of it aches. He needs to sleep—he could always call Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum back up here, announce their respite to be over so he can leave. Tomorrow may be bringing him all sorts of horrors. God forbid that girlfriend wants to go to the Statue of Liberty or another ridiculously overpriced hotdog stand. Maybe he could gently steer her towards something within walking distance, or point out that all these things are on postcards, and the view isn’t much better in person. And there's plenty of things to do inside the penthouse—Cobb has a good-sized library up here, and a TV with far too many channels and subscription services—and then his own nerves won’t be tap-danced on by the sheer number of near-misses she’ll inevitably bring upon herself.

If she’s even here in the morning. 

Lucas stays, though, even as the hours drag their feet and the night ripens into thick, inky, blackness. He never even moves to grasp the radio to call anyone back up. One of the other guys checks in at the end of his shift, a furrowed brow the only sign of concern on the man’s face. "Why are you still here?" is a bit rude to demand of your boss’s boss’s boss, though it's written in the anxious way the man's fingers grip his arms, in the way he says goodbye and can't keep from glancing back. 

Lucas stays, until even the graveyard shift starts to see the light trickling in over the morning fog covering the streets. The other staff will arrive soon: a checkbox of employees, rosters of the oddest workforce he's ever been a part of.

The housekeepers Grey can understand the usefulness of, in a purely practical sense; he won't deny the sheer futility of one man attempting to clean this monstrous behemoth of a house. The chef—as polite and unobtrusive as she is—is a bridge too far for Grey's understanding. It’s not that hard to cook an egg.

The most senior housekeeper is first to the penthouse, as she always is, being one of that generation that consider being late or calling out sick a slight on their honor and a breach of their duty. Mrs. Delaney. Always cheery, even to him. The years have worn away any pretense and carved both wrinkles and kindness into her face. Keeps telling him he needs to find a wife and settle down, and his biting sarcasm does nothing to curb her enthusiasm. The next two to appear are only slightly younger, both taking the Q train and arriving together, fussing about their adult children as they come inside. They stopped asking him about his life a few hours into his first day. More sense than Delaney, or just not as patient. Then the rest of them arrive, one by one, a faucet on a slow drip. They arm themselves with mops and wax and fight the battle of the hardwood floors. Then it's the security staff who arrive for their morning shift, each appearing at the penthouse exactly 30 minutes early to do the turnover with their graveyard-scheduled colleagues.

Grey narrates it all in his head as the dance of greetings at the shift change plays out on the screens in front of him. The routine makes him clench his jaw again, and his fist along with it this time until the old frayed nerve sparks along his arm. He's living some Upper East Side version of Groundhog's Day. Minus the comedy and eventual ending. His days just go on and on.

Should've taken Rolf up on his offer. 

Grey stands abruptly and the thought falls off his lap like it was never there. At least the turnover means he can leave now.

He almost makes it out of the room, until movement in one screen draws his eye and leaves him standing there with one hand on the doorknob. It's the one exception to the well-choreographed dance: that woman in the guest suite, who has been an annoying blight on the household's routine since Cobb plucked her out of her quaint little life and transplanted her into his. And if last night was any indication, the white blood cells of Milton-Fitzpatrick are on the hunt.

Lucas watches as the door to her suite opens, slowly and then all at once, like she’s scared she’ll lose her nerve. She's up much earlier than normal, up even before Cobb, who has all the flexibility in his schedule of a sergeant major. She looks disheveled even through the screen, but lovely, still—even in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. She’s practically tiptoeing down the hall, reminiscent of some cartoon mouse expecting a trap to swallow her whole. Then she appears on a separate screen as she enters the kitchen, waves at the chef—Grey eyes her mouth, the way she smiles as she says good morning and asks for toast—and grabs a piece of fruit before waiting in the dining room. 

Grey finally pulls the door open and steps through into mundanity. More of the staff are arriving as he passes through the foyer: more wait staff in their crisp uniforms, and the gardeners for the terraces, lugging wheelbarrows and dollies stacked with tools. The windows are getting cleaned, today, too, which he spends the better part of ten minutes speaking to a very upset Delaney about; he helps her cordon off a pathway to protects the cleanliness of the floors as she cows even the angry maintenance workers into compliance. 

Delaney eventually sends him on his way, and Grey doesn’t head to the staff room; that's been enough interaction with the rest. He takes a hard right, through a corridor that circumvents the hall the others are in, and then out into the far passage that leads to either the conservatory or the kitchen. He chooses the latter. Cobb would never forgive him if he let the girl fall out a window—there’s been enough of that, lately. He's just being a good employee.

She's still scared of him, though, if the wide-eyed panicked look she shoots him over her empty plate is any indication. 

Not chirping at me anymore, are you?

Maybe she thinks he told Cobb about her little escape attempt. Grey eyes the way she scoots past him in the doorway to get to the kitchen (she squeaks a little "Excuse me" at him) and wonders exactly how far she'd have made it. His money is on the end of the block, and no further. Pathetic. Pathetic in the way that makes people adopt cats they pluck out of trash cans. 

Or scared runaway boys. 

There's a barely perceptible shift in his walk like the ground gave way beneath his feet, but only for a fraction of a second. An uncharacteristic lack of discipline. Sleep deprivation, he tells himself, as he enters the dining room and heads through it, down another hallway. 

Threats he can deal with. Dispatch. Terminate. All kinds of pretty euphemisms people use to describe what he does. Did. And there's his existential crisis in a nutshell, summed up neatly and packaged in the form of Cobb's new girlfriend. Lucas has no idea what to do with the woman who's more of a massive inconvenience than anything else—he can't let her wander the penthouse, not because she might steal something, but because the dopey-eyed thing might get lost. The next thing he knows he'll be fishing her out of the dumbwaiter. 

Although maybe she's brighter than he gives her credit for. Down to the line, barely 30 seconds before Eugene makes his appearance, she disappears back into her room. Cobb is going to need to keep this one on a leash.

Grey watches, satisfied and silently amused, and waits.

The next few days feel like the brink of a nuclear disaster—the Cuban Missile Crisis, if Khrushchev and Kennedy had been fucking—with both sides eyeing each other warily and unsure of the other's resolve. She still has one foot out the door, Lucas can see that. Ready to bolt at the next sign of trouble. And Cobb's approach seems to be to treat her like an angry tomcat, bribing her with treats (not kibble, but tickets to the opera and galleries and museums) and sneaking closer each time once he knows she won’t bite him.

Cobb checks in with him, only once, asking if she's said anything. Lucas blinks back the flicker of surprise that Cobb believes the woman would talk to him at all—she scrambles for the door each time she sees him.

"No, sir," Lucas says, and Cobb's face falls a little.

"Please let me know if she does."

And Lucas promises, in full knowledge of the mootness of that point. 

It finally boils over one night after a dinner that Cobb is actually home for, catching her by surprise before she can fake a headache or claim to be busy. Lucas backs out of the room with as much grace as he can muster, taking the other guards with him. It's loud, though, and he's not going to clap his hands over his ears once she raises her voice. It's not quite yelling, nor is it angry, going by the quivers in her tone that mold her syllables into something sad and desperate. Something about "not belonging", and then she goes quiet. It’s the same kind of quiet in the moment after the crack of a rifle. 

Cobb asks her if she wants to go home, and Grey strains to hear anything, not even knowing what he's hoping. He’s gotten used to the little thorn in his side. Pulling it out would be a nuisance; having it pulled out is something worse. He can't hear her answer anyway, and then he's dragged into a conference call with the security team at the bank, which he suffers through mindlessly. They have to get his attention a couple times, and look at him askance until he glares. It’s only later that night Lucas overhears two of the maids mentioning that she (the “sad, sweet thing”) finally unpacked. There's both disaster and relief: stays of execution just delay the inevitable. 

But she does stay, and Grey dutifully resumes his role as babysitter when Cobb goes into the office the next morning. His boss is happy, at least, and Grey has no dog in this fight. She smiles a little more, gives him a few shy "Hello"s and polite little “How are you”s. He always lies. Well, thank you. Other than the itchy trigger finger and the maddening cloud of boredom. 

Even when she starts going for early morning walks in the neighborhood, Grey close behind and grumbling under his breath about sleep deprivation and hypothermia, the annoyance no longer bites the way it used to. Then Dill—one of the other shifts leads, and so called for the perpetually sour look on his face—mentions offhandedly to Grey how much happier he seems lately. 

He bristles a little, even to himself, even at the memory of the conversation. It's just easier, now the girl's settled in and he doesn't have to be a walking encyclopedia of contingency plans. Easier, now that she’s found the good sense in not turning down a free meal train. The worst gold-digger in the world, this one, but maybe she's finally wised up. 

It’s because the atmosphere isn’t tense anymore, thick with the anger and hurt rising in slow, hot tendrils threatening to pull them all under. It's because his boss is happy and there aren’t too many idiot new guys to beat into something presentable, and even Fitz is coming along nicely. Been hard to have a good time with his employer and coworkers causing him medically pioneering levels of stress. CICADA could've learned a thing or two about hostile work environments from this place, back when he first joined. He'd been brought in at the tail-end of Cobb's marriage, and witnessed the utter collapse of that union. The sanctity of marriage vows: Until death, or a vicious, ugly court battle does us part. 

Cobb had been the easiest primary he'd ever been assigned: The man had just worked all day. Office. Penthouse. Office. Penthouse. The occasional trip to his favorite restaurant, some ridiculous place downtown that still sets Grey's teeth on edge. Too many windows, not enough exits. New York in a nutshell. 

In the aftermath of it—once the smoke had cleared and the former Mrs. Cobb was nothing more than a bad dream, packed off and settled in the London mansion—it’d taken Cobb a little while to bounce back, but once he did the vehemence with which he took to his work was off-putting even to a man like Lucas, Lucas with his unhealthy enthusiasm for slicing people open or standing guard (in the hopes of slicing people open). Once the court dates were over, then came the countless international trips and living out of a suitcase, Cobb apologizing to him with a sad smile and talk of a backlog as they traveled from airport to airport. Grey never minded those trips. Much. It'd been nice to visit a place for a different purpose than terminations of various kinds.

Until her. She’d messed up those, too: Cobb hasn’t gone on another trip since.

Back to office, penthouse, office, penthouse. Easy, at least. The most exciting thing to happen the whole week is getting cussed out by a herd of blue-haired free-trade proponents with a vendetta against banks. Standard issue protestors: pathetically self-righteous and stunningly ineffective.

If you meant it, you'd have brought bombs, not signs.

They're packed away and carted off before any more of the bank's staff know what's happened, and Cobb enters the lobby and only raises an eyebrow at the sight of the black-and-whites racing away.

Back to their regularly scheduled programming: traffic and talk radio on the ride home. 

They’re barely back to the penthouse, barely through the elevator doors—Grey's had time to get exactly five minutes into a meeting with Dill—before Cobb wants to see him in his office, where he's holding a crisp piece of stationary, the envelope and letter opener lying like murder weapons on his desk.

"Hannah Highmoore's funeral. The reception, anyway." Cobb says in explanation, placing the invitation down on the desk with its companions and walking a few paces over to the window. He continues after thinking for another moment; perhaps the view of skyscrapers and the tops of townhouses are jogging his memory. “Odd. John and I never did get along.” 

Highmoore's been in the news and on the mouths of everyone in a certain social set in New York. If Lucas never had to hear the girl's name again, he'd be happy. Or at least less irritated.

He approaches the desk and gets a better look at the invitation; the curled, embossed letters look more like the coils of a noose the closer he gets. Hannah Highmoore. Not much of a loss to society. 

“Will you be going, sir?” Lucas asks. 

Cobb takes a moment before finally nodding—the rope snapping taut. 

Let me pick up my tuxedo from the dry cleaners. 

“Competition or not, we may need him. He may see sense one day.” Cobb taps one foot and takes a final look out the window before turning to face him. His mouth is tight, almost a grimace. “A minimal security team, Mr. Grey. Best they don’t think I suspect them of any treachery.”

The Highmoores don't seem like Ides of March reenactors, anyway, so the risk assessment clears minimal to mean one. Lucas is in Cobb's detail at the moment, and it is going to fall during his shift—though he considers volunteering Dill for this particular duty—and when the day finally rolls around, Lucas regrets not taking some time off and forcing the other man to take his place. There's not even the slim silver lining he'd been hoping for: she's not going, just wishes them goodbye before returning to a book in her lap. Grey can’t see what it is. 

The driver drops the two of them off in front of the palatial building appropriated for the event, both men armed with a socially acceptable amount of graveness, and as the car disappears a few moments later around the corner of the block, Lucas sees his hopes of a pleasant evening disappear along with it. He and Cobb aren't even inside before a reception-goer comes stumbling out, reeking of gin and propped up by a rather embarrassed family member, who mutters an apology at them as they go by. Bit early in the evening. 

There's only four points of entry into the square hall, even as grand and cavernous as it looks from the ground. No shortage of ornate columns or chandeliers, but only three doorways on the first floor and then one somewhere above on the second. Grey glances up to see a skylight some fifty-odd feet above everyone's heads, and fights back a scowl. Five entries, then. That wasn't on the map they had used during prep, and he makes a note to scald Dill for it later. Their advance man should've caught that.

In addition to the liberal amounts of alcohol flowing, Lucas might have confused this for a gala for other reasons, too: the somber but live chamber orchestra, and the waiters lugging around teetering piles of hors d’oeuvres, and the gowns (all black) and the tuxedos (white tie).

Cobb's already told him to keep as much of a distance as possible; doesn't want to look like he needs a Praetorian guard to attend a socialite's funeral, despite the fact that every person here has an eye-watering net worth and the security to match. Grey sweeps the crowd—no eminent danger, other than being dragged into polite small talk with these people—and slows enough for Cobb to pull away into the little pockets of mourners and gossipers alike. 

He keeps just out of Cobb's sight, just enough to where the man won't notice. It's unnecessary, though—most everyone here has the same vapid, dull look in their eyes that tells him Not a Threat (unless he's a line of cocaine in the bathroom or a waitress at a golf club)—and he slips seamlessly out of the room. Grey marks the cordoned off stairs that lead to the upper landing; there's a service elevator around the corner, though, past some employees of the gallery deeper in conversation than awareness. 

The woman on the left, propping an elbow on a trolley full of supplies, is nodding solemnly.

"Yeah, some big-time movie producers are here. Guess the girl was an actress."

Lucas has seen those movies—actress is a generous term for her. 

"And wasn't Moriarty talking about –"

The approaching loud smacks of business shoes against tile shuts them up, with all the grace and tact of someone caught with their pants down. It's a supervisor, going by the scolding they start to get about the respect due at such an austere occasion. Grey disappears around the other side of them, reemerging from behind shadows and columns at the opposite end of the hallway and letting the elevator doors glide shut behind him, cutting off something about "highly unbecoming" and "gossiping loll-abouts".

Hairs on the back of his neck spark a dull warning that has nothing to do with the etiquette lesson. Nothing terribly important—just that someone has seen. The elevator doors open at the top, and Grey clocks the immediate descent back down as soon as he's out. Whoever it is, it will be easy enough to deal with, no fuss necessary.

He has time before he'll need to start his charade of losing his way to the staff room—as long as there's no one else up here, he'll be satisfied. It's where he'd pick, after all, for any kind of recon, whether sinister or not. Good angles overlooking the hall. No visibility from the ground. No room for anyone to flank him either, they’d have to approach from where he came, from — 

"Grey!"

Downstairs. 

Not a scolding staff member then. The unbridled enthusiasm is a hint, as is the drawling Southern cadence completely out of place outside the American panhandle. 

They'd called the man Foggy for a reason, back when they were all fresh-faced recruits and nicknames were being dished out in a fury. Foghorn Leghorn in the flesh: big and drawling and endlessly talkative. A good shot, too.

"Foggy," Lucas says, turning to him completely. "Been a while."

The man who approaches is older now than Lucas remembers, peppered with grey, and a new scar—pink and angry—slashed across the side of his head, from his brow to his chin. He waves off Lucas's look. It's merely another added to the collection; Lucas is familiar with some of the older works, including some he'd put there himself.

Foggy grins and the maw of the scar stretches wide, but Foggy himself is all teeth and camaraderie. "You know it—been out for a few years, ever since I realized Rolf had the right idea. Thought you'd never leave."

That makes two of us. Heat prickles and hums, the low thrum of an old radio that Foggy's grabbed the dial of and wrenched by accident. The man barrels ahead, too; not vindictive. Just stupid.

"So…Lucas Grey, private security? I take it you don't work for the art gallery."

"Banker." Lucas nods over to the sea of people on the floor below; he can pick out Cobb even from here, deep in conversation with an ashen-faced John Highmoore, but he doesn't specify any further.

"Gotcha. Yeah, I got hooked up with a pretty cushy job at first, too. Running around after the Highmoore kids. Trips to Monaco and the Maldives? Count me in. And probably better-looking primaries than yours."

Memories stir, long-buried, of going after Foggy in-between missions, dragging him out of bars and beds he had no business being in; shouts and laughter ring in his ears amidst distant explosions, until the soft drone of conversation from beneath them brings him back. The twinkle of champagne glasses is not the racking of fresh rounds in a rifle, though he can't tell the difference at the moment.

Sleep deprivation, that's all. Lucas cocks his head a fraction to the right. "You said at first?"

"Yeah. Went pretty quick from glorified babysitter to pilot-slash-security-slash-butler." Foggy's voice dips. "Highmoore Consulting ain't doing too hot, if you catch my drift. Might get bought out soon."

Grey's heard pieces from Cobb's phone calls—an incomplete puzzle, but it's painted enough of a picture.

Foggy shakes his head. “‘S why no one was with her, that night. Didn’t have the team. Can’t be everywhere at once.” 

Lucas recognizes guilt easily enough, the stain of it on the man's hands and heart. 

“There was nothing you could have done, the way I heard it.” 

“Yeah. That fucker. Was almost hoping he’d have the balls to show up here, see how well his act goes over—"

Grey only nods. No one thinks the girl had trouble balancing; an inner-ear problem wasn't what sent her cartwheeling off the building to make sudden modifications to the hatchback below. 

Foggy shrugs off his simmering rage with a sliver of a smile. It pierces more cold than hot, the scar not stretching this time, and he shifts back on one foot, like it was a mistake coming over here after all. "Well, look—you ever get bored with your banking buddy, you let me know. Plenty of shit in this town we can get you in on."

And then he departs, with a tight nod. The chime of the elevator is faint as Foggy disappears into it; it takes the other sounds with it though, finally, like the last roll of a timpani. The clarity left behind burns.

We? Grey's eyes narrow.

He's going to need a word with Rolf.

Later. All of that, later. In the meantime, he finds a nice corner of the second floor and settles in: a gargoyle, but without the bird shit and tourists. 

More small mercies: Cobb doesn’t stay very long. Long enough to be respectful, polite. No one will talk just as no one will notice. 

Lucas moves down to the ground floor as soon as he sees Cobb start to look around; it takes the banker another ten minutes of winding his way through more condolences before finally finding Lucas among the crowd. The two of them break off from the last pack of guests converging around the doors, around more late-comers that are good cover until they get out onto the weathered stone steps outside. 

After they’ve climbed into the waiting vehicle, Grey barely has time to exchange a nod with their driver before Cobb’s on the phone. It's a hushed conversation, careful, and spoken more like a lawyer than an investment banker or CEO. There’re a few apologies, too, that this couldn't be in person. By the time Cobb hangs up, ten blocks and twenty minutes later, with an earnest promise of settling It, Lucas is willing to bet quite a few houses that the man on the other end of the phone is Thomas Cross. 

Comforting an alleged murderer's father on the ride home from the victim's funeral is a little cold blooded, even for him.

Cross has nothing to do with Milton-Fitzpatrick, but Cobb needs to stop by the office suddenly; by the time they arrive back at the penthouse, the dinner hour is long gone and the place is beginning its nightly transformation into a museum.

Even the woman's asleep, the last chance of salvaging the evening disappearing up in smoke.

Lucas ends up in the surveillance room, hands hesitating over a keyboard. It's none of his business what she did today. She’s not a target. She’s not even a primary. It’s none of your concern. 

He does find that book, though, the one he's seen her slowly making her way through. She's left it in the library, a bookmark bent and haphazardly sticking out like she shut it in a hurry. Lucas is careful to keep the thin stock paper at its oddly jaunty angle as he turns the book just enough to read the cover. A small smirk, and then he turns it back.

He looks towards the passageway, beyond which are the guest suites, as though he could see her if he tried. If only the drywall and her own guardedness weren't there. Lucas eyes the title again. A coincidence, maybe. Maybe she liked the cover. Maybe she picked it at random. Luckily for all of them, Delaney could not be more different than Danvers, or Cobb from DeWinter.

There's no moment to ask about her reading habits, though, with how busy the rest of the week starts to get. Everyone's fundraising for something this time of year; there's dinners and galas and benefits with proceeds going to everything from humane societies to the ballet. Cobb sends representatives to most of them, thankfully, though one he does mark as necessary to attend in person. That night rolls around too soon for Grey's liking; he prefers more time between intentionally inducing migraines.

But Cobb's bringing his plus one, and she looks…well, Grey understands why his boss has been a lot happier recently. The understanding comes wrapped in a searing flash of something he doesn't recognize for a second, a long-forgotten face he shoves away before it can get any closer. 

Not for you. The thought cracks like a whip over his head, and he looks away from the woman descending the stairs, pretending it’s a choice; there's last-minute reminders for the team, after all, though the looks they give him tell him the superfluousness was noted.

"What do you think?" He can hear her ask Cobb, who's smart enough to not talk about the absurdity of sheer wraps in this weather, or how uncomfortable those heels will be in five minutes.

"Divine," Cobb says. Not a lie. Grey would have told her to bring a jacket. Again. Not that she'd listen.

It's Cobb who ends up wrapping his jacket around her shoulders when they arrive at the dinner and find, instead, an outdoor cocktail hour on one of the terraces. Some last-minute snafu with the catering, a very apologetic hostess tells them.

Lucas checks in with the onsite security and gets the update every employee wants to hear: Boring. Uneventful. Nothing more for him to do there. 

He returns to the gathering, if only to be amused by the circus that usually unfolds when idiocy is mixed with alcohol. He's just in time to see a woman with an outrageously large martini and an alarming number of feathers on her dress corner his two protectees, and Mr. Cobb has to rather pointedly end that conversation after a few too many leading questions about the circumstances of their meeting. Feathers-McGee pounces on him next, which provides the only opportunity for escape for their flustered guest, who excuses herself and hurries away, ostensibly to the bathroom. 

The bathrooms, however, are directly behind them, and Grey eyes her edging towards the far side of the terrace, where a pair of arches lead back into the hotel interior.

Why can't she ever stay put? 

He trails after her, along the side of the building away from the crowds, back inside, and then out again through a different door. Not a terrace as much as a small balcony—and certainly much quieter, with only a few empty tables scattered along the railing.

“Long way down," Lucas says from behind her, still from inside; her posture tenses for just a moment, the soft fabric of the jacket bunching along her back and shoulders.

She laughs a little, too nervous to be genuine, as he comes outside to join her. Her eyes flicker over before she resumes looking out, down the street to where the sun is setting. Her fingers clutch at Cobb's jacket just a little tighter as she says, "You know the joke about the optimist who fell from the top of the Empire State Building? All the way down, all anyone heard him say was 'so far, so good'."

“I imagine hitting the ground was something of a shock, then."

"Optimism will do that," she says, quietly.

"Are you not an optimist then?"

"Do I strike you as one, Mr. Grey?"

"Not particularly. But appearances can be deceiving."

"I like to think I'm a bit more practical than that." She shrugs. "Then again, here I am wearing someone else's jacket."

"Impracticality can be forgiven. Occasionally."

"Only occasionally?" She laughs a little, and turns to look at him again.

"Your mileage may vary, as the car commercials say."

"And you? What do you say, to optimism and the rest of it?" 

“I brim to overflowing with the stuff. As you've seen."

Her smile ventures a little wider, like Foggy's lilting grin did before, but this time it's Grey's old scars getting stretched wide, splitting open. He has to continue in something of a rush, before the words flit away, out of their orderly line. If they do, he's not sure he'll get them back. "But I do prefer my charges to avoid balconies. For the same reason I don’t want them playing on fire escapes, or with grenades.”

We don't need any more girls painting the sidewalk. And Cobb would be more torn up about this one.

She either hasn't heard the worst rumors about Highmoore's death, or doesn't care, and only eyes him. Teeth worry her bottom lip and come away clear. “Grenades a common problem in Manhattan?” 

“Saw a rat rolling one around once.” 

She wrinkles her nose, but does come away from the railing. Very few stories of rats in this city need to be exaggerated.

“Sorry. Don't want to make your job harder.” 

"I'll let you live this time."

This time her smile is thin and nervous as she thanks him and heads back, to the cocktails and gladhanders and jazz ensemble that's trying to liven the party up with some sort of nouveau take on swing. She chances a glance back at him, like she thinks he might be serious and is there with an axe, waiting for one more mistake. He's torn between flattered and insulted.

Perhaps he should just stop joking like that. 

Then it’s his turn to dodge the Cruella de Vil lookalike as he follows a half-minute behind; he's only just gotten by that particular menace when his phone starts vibrating noisily. Alert after alert comes in, ones from the synced work calendar, and in the format Cobb uses for his travel reminders. There'll be a streak of trips, looks like, starting alarmingly soon and lasting through the end of the month.

A waitress comes by with a selection of assorted grotesque-looking alcoholic beverages; Lucas doesn't mean to glare at her, but she blanches and makes an abrupt right-face to avoid him. Looks like it's back to business—he can see Cobb now, a little ways away from the rest of the party, head lowered and pacing back and forth, his earpiece glinting occasionally under the lamplight. His slow, patient route leads him to face Lucas, whom he exchanges a nod with.

Back to business, indeed. 

The next day is set to be a long-awaited day off, spurred on by the utter circus the next few weeks will be, but Lucas finds himself stuck in one of the security team's offices at Cobb's place late into the evening; between prepping, getting off the phone with the advance teams, coordinating flights and team coverages, he's looking at another late night. 

Milton-Fitzpatrick is lucky he’s salaried. 

The to-do list does shrink. Boxes are checked. Tasks are completed. He’s almost at the end of it, when the last person he expects to see comes poking around. She sets off the alerts on the nearest screen, and Grey pauses to see the surveillance footage of her heading down the hallway. When she finally gets to the room he's in, she pauses. Probably hoping for one of the other supervisors, by the way she stands in the doorway, shifting ever so slightly on her feet. 

“Yes?” He’s the one who breaks the silence. 

“I was — um — " She finishes her sentence, he thinks, but she's also staring at a spot behind his head and mumbling. 

Grey leans back in his chair, arms crossed and a finger tapping on his thigh. “Try that again?” 

“Eugene’s busy tomorrow, with all those trips coming up, and I need—" She makes a face, and Lucas knows this next part wasn't her idea. “I need someone to come with me. On the ferry. Please.” 

Lucas doesn’t need to check the schedules. “It’ll be me then, probably. Be ready by 9.” 

“Oh. Uh. Ok. Thanks!” 

She hesitates, at the threshold of the doorway and the conversation. There’s a hint of a smile that gives way to the full thing, and the room gets warmer even in the dead of night. Even his half-forgotten cup of coffee might be hot to the touch now.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but — do you ever go home?” 

Home. A slightly loaded question.

"No," he says. Not a lie. There's the empty, cold hotel room a few floors below their feet that he stays in just so he has somewhere that fulfills residency requirements. Despite the plush comforts, there's a burnt-out Humvee he slept in once that he found far more to his taste.

She thinks he’s joking. There's the somewhat nicer spot in Buenos Aires he could tell her about; but that, too, is completely un-lived in. It's a bad idea to be where people expect you to be.

"Vacation? Holidays?” She scrunches her nose—probably wondering what kind of boss Cobb is, or what kind of whistle blower protections there are in this state.

"Only when legally required."

"I can't imagine you on holiday, actually."

"Far be it from me to flout New York labor laws."

"But you say you don't go home—don't tell me you're moonlighting at a club downtown or something?"

"Won't confirm or deny. And if you see anything, well, perhaps I have a twin." He almost laughs, but she won't get the joke.

The truth is much more simple, as it usually is. The last time he felt at home he was driving a blade underneath another man's sternum and twisting it, wrenching it, until a deep crimson coated both of them and the bite of copper hung in the air for days. That Lucas Grey hasn't been home in a long time. The red stains are still there, though; some fresh and bright and pungent and others cracked and brown and rotting. It's all he sees sometimes.

He could tell her that. Tell her that just to watch those pretty eyes of hers go wide in horror. Tell her so she knows what kind of man he is, because until she does, it's all worthless. Just politeness and lies and deception. 

But before he can make a choice either way, she leaves with a gentle, soft huff of a laugh and: "See you at 9, then."

Her footsteps take all the warmth with them, further and further until there's nothing but cold and silence sealed shut in the vacuum left behind.

Lucas could, of course, install himself permanently at the bank. Perks of being the boss. Even Dill might be glad to get out from under him for a while. Lucas doesn't have to be in Cobb's detail—or hers, for that matter—and it'd suit him better to lurk around buildings. He could do more shifts there, at the very least. Yes, before the security team posted there thinks they're the red-headed stepchild of the assignment rotations.

His finger twitches, just once, towards his phone. It'd be so easy. Then Lucas swallows something bitter—something worse and stronger than anything he's ever found at the bottom of a glass—and gets up from his seat. He needs to be here at 9 tomorrow. 

#lucas grey #hitman #hitman fanfiction #lucas grey x reader #eugene cobb #eugene cobb x reader #fic: guinevere