#i might actually use this in a fanfic chapter

[oakthefrog]

'the way they looked up at me was earth-shattering. my heart chipped and gut sank. We both fell to the floor, my arms on their shoulders.'

#yk when a random line of a story comes to you? #yeaaa this buried itself into my skull just now #this would b in a 'who did this to you' enemies to lovers scene #i might actually use this in a fanfic chapter #shorts wars moots watch out #this will be in a oneshot chapter now (probs glitchpaint ngl) #because glitchpaint is actually pretty cool in most aus #i have sw and fanfic brainrot if y'all cant tell #im taking rambling in the tags to a new fucking level

[lyculuscaelus]

Our Story (Fanfic)

Chapter 1 Promises

“Now, sing O Muses, of that brave boy Odysseïdes, Sparta has he visit'd, Pylos twice, with Athena the wise queen…”

“Stop it,” Telemachus giggled. “You’re acting like your father.”

“No, I’m not,” said Peisistratus. “You’re acting like your father.”

“No, I’m not,” said Telemachus. “Unlike him, I don’t have many deeds to brag about.”

“Doesn’t sailing for the first time count?” Peisistratus insisted. “And if you don’t like this song I can always make a new one for you.”

“No thanks, Peisis,” Telemachus said. “At least, leave it till my birthday.”

“That I can arrange,” Peisistratus replied, seriously.

And they locked their gazes for a long time, until Telemachus finally burst out laughing. Soon Peisistratus joined him, and their laughter quickly flooded the entire palace. It died down eventually, as the two young men slowly calmed down. Then Peisistratus started:

“I’m so glad you’re here, Tele. Had it been another usual day, I’d be hunting with my brothers in the fields. Not that I don’t like hunting, it’s just that I’ve so many things to talk about and my brothers always find them either boring or childish. You might be the only one I could chat with. Ah, I wish you could visit Pylos more often.”

“Yeah,” Telemachus nodded. “It feels like such a long time since we last met…has it been two years already?”

“One whole year plus nine months, to be exact.”

“Right, I’m not gonna doubt you. After all, you’re better with this than I am.”

“That’s about the time since your father returned home, yep.”

“Before he set out again, you mean.”

“He set out again? About when?”

Telemachus sighed. “About one year and eight months ago. Said it was something concerning a prophecy someone named Teiresias told him—”

“Teiresias? The Teiresias? But isn’t he already dead?”

“Yep. My father had visited the Underworld, literally.”

Peisistratus gasped. “What—Oh my, that was some nostos your father had. Anyway has he met any great hero there? Like Theseus? Or Heracles? Or even my brother Antilochus?”

“He saw your brother there alright,” said Telemachus. “And Heracles, who even talked to him…”

“That’s so sick!” Peisistratus exclaimed. “I wonder if we’ll be having an adventure like this in the future, say, just you and me, maybe plus someone else, I don’t know.”

“You know what? It would be great!” Telemachus blinked his eyes excitedly. Why have I never thought about it before? Hanging out with my friends? It’s such a great idea! And father is going to be proud of us…

proud…

He’s going to be proud, isn’t he?

Telemachus wasn’t so sure. He remembered basically everything in that day, when his father again departed from Ithaca, this time to somewhere unknown even to himself. He remembered that it was a sunny day, that the chanting of birds was glorious, that the sweet scent of olives was mesmerizing, that the airy dance of cloud was elegant. These he remembered well, but most vividly he could recall that very scene, that very conversation—

“Father, I want to come along,” he had said. “I want to be with you wherever you go, so we can at least share some thrills and fun together.”

“No, Tele,” his father had answered, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t bring you on board, not this time.”

“Why?” He had been so confused. “But I’ve always wanted to explore the worlds outside Ithaca, to see the giant oak in Dodona, the reputable land of Calydon, the seven gates of the famous Cadmea…I want to have an adventure, father. Just like you did.”

He remembered that look well. That look his father had gave him, those eyes with such agony, such sadness. Is it panic, panicking at the thought of his son following him down the miserable path that was meant for his own to take? Is it fear, fearing for the life and sanity of his son? Or is it sorrow, sorrowful over the naïve and innocent spirit of his 20-year-old son? Or is it pain, painful about the fact that he doesn’t even qualify as being a father, who never had the chance to see his son through the childhood, and hadn’t gotten to know this brave young man his son has become, before his fate was calling him to sail out again?

For a long time both of them didn’t speak, and the look was growing wearier and wearier and…it seemed as if another decade had passed inside his father’s mind, another decade filled with tribulations and torments. Telemachus couldn’t help but feel his regret. Regret that he ever said those words, regret that he wasn’t with his father when he needed him. The hands. He could feel his father’s hands gripping his shoulders tightly. But finally his father had lower the head, and sighed heavily. In a low voice, Odysseus had begun. “Tele, you have to understand. This cruel world is not as entertaining as it may seem, or sound in those tales. It’s dangerous out there, filled with monsters, storms, ruthless gods, and…and things that can go beyond your very imagination. Things that are so terrible, so overwhelming…”

He hadn’t finished the sentence, instead he was choked with sobs, and Telemachus had felt so guilty, and so helpless. But he had tried his best to withhold his tears, and had started to comfort his father. “Then I’ll face them bravely, father, like you would do. Like a true son of Odysseus would do.” Telemachus had put up with a smile. “As a true Odysseïdes.”

“Oh Tele…” Odysseus had moaned with tears. “Oh…for ten years I haven’t seen your face, in one month I haven’t gotten to know you better, but look, what an undaunted man you have become, when I’m away!” Finally, he had cracked into a smile. “Yes, that’s my boy!” He had said with sincere happiness, though the pain was still present in his voice. But at least, Odysseus had smiled.

And Telemachus had exhaled with relief.

“Father,” he had continued. “I wouldn’t insist if you really don’t want me along, but I need to know where you’re going, what you’re going to do, and how long I should wait for your return. Could you please tell me, just for mom’s sake and mine?”

And Odysseus had nodded. “Don’t worry about your mother, Telemachus. Penelope knows about this, and you have every right to know it as well.” He had stopped, and looked towards the western sky. As Telemachus followed his gaze, Odysseus continued. “Do you remember the story I’ve told you, about that prophet Teiresias in the Underworld? I had asked him about my fate, and he had answered:

‘…When someone else runs into you and says you've got a shovel used for winnowing on your broad shoulders, then fix that fine oar in the ground there, and make rich sacrifice to lord Poseidon with a ram, a bull, and a boar that breeds with sows. Then leave. Go home, and there make sacred offerings to the immortal gods…’

“So you see, Telemachus, I don’t know where I’ll go to, but I know what I’ll find. It may be a long voyage, or it may be short. Who knows? But I’m going anyway, because I am Laërtiades, son of the honorable Laërtes—one of the legendary Argonauts.”

“I see,” Telemachus had said. “The blood of dauntlessness runs deep in our family.”

“Precisely.” Odysseus had laughed proudly. “You, my son, will also share this honor, in the future perhaps, when you take on a journey of your own, and build your fame with your own feats. But today, the journey is mine to undertake, and with the blessing of the prophet, I’m very certain that I will make it home again.”

“Okay.” With a serious face, Telemachus had nodded. “Then I’ll try not to surpass you.”

They were both grinning when an owl started to whoop from the forest.

“Wait, dad,” Telemachus had suddenly called. “If not this time, then when?”

Odysseus had given him a slight smile. “When I return, son, I shall take you to Dodona, where the oaks are august; then we’ll visit Calydon, where twenty two heroes had once gathered to slay that giant boar; then we shall go to Thebes, where twice had the Argives waged war against, one of them being the father of a king whom I have befriended; and then,” Odysseus had patted Telemachus’s right shoulder. “Then I will bring you to Pylos again. And know that I won’t be gone for long. This is a promise.”

“Swear it on the river of Styx?”

“I swear it, on the river of Styx.”

Gradually, Telemachus had returned the smile. “Thank you, dad.” He had said, voice cracked with the bittersweet taste in his throat. “Thank you so much.”

He remembered the hug, the kiss, and the departure of his father clearly. He remembered how often he had doubted that whether his father would ever make it back again. He remembered that worried look of his mother, who had often stood by the shores of Ithaca, waiting, waiting. But he also remembered, that Odysseus had made a promise.

And here they were, in Pylos again, weren’t they?

And it only took him eight months, didn’t it?

So, there’s nothing to worry about. After all, there’s nothing that can waver the resolve of Odysseus’s homecoming. And thus he shall always return. Always.

All because of his love, and his promise.

Telemachus nodded to this fact. Love, and promise. That’s what my father was proud of. And if I have found the courage to love, to make a promise, then will Odysseus be proud of me, even with the knowledge that I may travel afar, likely into an ocean of danger, and a sea of trouble?

Then will we get to have our adventure, and get back safely? Will we get to tell our tales, and make our own story?

So to Peisistratus he said these words, with all his heart:

“And I’m sure we will. Of this I give you my promise.”

#It has stayed in the drafts for days #it’s on discord now but since I did this on tumblr might as well post it #greek mythology #tagamemnon #odysseus #telemachus #pisistratus #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #epic the musical #I’ve thought about all the chapters and yes you’re gonna see many familiar places and people #Imma explain chap 1 here a little bit #Sing O Muses? Had to be done #And it’s in dactylic hexameter #One sad thing is that Ody cannot stick around until he made that sacrifice for Poseidon #Ody staying for one month is actually from his own idea (when he was still a Cretan who claimed to know himself) #And dw the course has been plotted using three maps #I’ll calculate the time later on cuz Imma try sth like the Captain’s Log recording #Oh and the winions are considered real here #so it’s also an epic fanfic lol #I’ll see how far I can go #Lyculī scriptiōnēs

[amethystina]

A New Dawn (Begins With Us)

Fandom/Pairing: Black Knight - 5-8/Yoon Sa Wol

Length: 10 chapters (~90 000 words)

Rating/Warnings: M / Canon-Typical Violence, Injuries, Grief, PTSD, Angst

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Pining, Slow Burn, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Healing, Idiots In Love, Happy Ending, Sexual Content

Summary: Even as the world begins to recover — a new, equal society slowly taking shape — not everyone is able to look to the future. Is there even a future for someone whose purpose is so tied to the past? Whose only goal has finally been achieved? Whose very existence is now obsolete?

What happens to the freedom fighter after the battle is won?

5-8 doesn't have the answers, and nor does he know where to find them. He doesn't even know if he should try. Perhaps some things are just better left in the past — including himself.

Sa Wol doesn't have the answers, either, but at least he's willing to start searching for them.

GO HERE TO READ

#Black Knight #5-8 #Yoon Sa Wol #5-8/Yoon Sa Wol #Black Knight Fanfic #A New Dawn #A New Dawn (Begins With Us) #My Fanfics #Amethystina Writes #So yeah #I haven't finished writing this yet #I'm halfway through chapter 4 #But I decided to start posting it anyway #Since the fandom is so small #And it might be nice to know this is actually in the works #Honestly #This is just a cute and fluffy refuge for me #Amids all the other painful or weird shit I'm writing x'D #Do come along if you feel like it

[wereh0gz]

Thunder - Oneshot

Based on a drawing I made some time ago, written mostly in the middle of the night because of rainstorm and a random burst of inspiration that wouldn't let me sleep (kinda fitting considering what the fic is about lol), which I'm now posting months later.

In which Tails can't sleep during a thunderstorm, but his werehog brother is there to help.

Words: 2,067

Thunder.

A dreadful rainstorm raged just outside Tails' bedroom window. Rain poured against the glass with such force the fox feared it would break. Light flashed through the sky, followed a few seconds later by the mighty roar of the heavens.

Tails cowered under his blankets at the sound, his fur standing on edge and his ears flat on his head.

The logical side of his brain told him that things weren't that bad. The storm was moving away. He knew because of how much time there was between the flash of lightning and the sound of thunder. He knew that he wouldn't be struck by a bolt of electricity from the heavens.

It told him that the howling wind would only cause a few branches to come loose at worst. That his house, workshop, and everything in them was safe.

It told him that the rain wouldn't be nearly enough to flood their home, just make their backyard a bit soggy. That it'll be okay.

Yet the fearful and childish side of his brain screamed that he wasn't safe. He was in danger. That he needed to run. Hide.

So here he was, listening to the scared part of his consciousness, clutching his pounding heart as he breathed quick and shallow breaths, and panic consumed him.

He tried and tried to steady his breathing, to stop his heart from racing, but every time he managed to calm down just a bit, thunder would crash and send him spiraling again.

It's past midnight. He should be sleeping. Sonic had been nagging him about maintaining a good sleep schedule, that he can't work while sleep deprived.

Not like he's much better than Tails is when it comes to sleeping at decent times…

He takes a deep breath. He's able to calm his nerves, if only slightly. Still wrapped in a blanket, he sets his head down on his pillow and closes his eyes. The rain has yet to subside, but at least he hasn't heard any thunder in a bit. The pitter-patter of the rain hitting his roof could actually help him relax a bit more-

Kra-boom!

Ah, spoke too soon.

Tails yelped, sitting back up on his bed, shaking like a leaf. His namesakes poofed up like a pair of feather dusters, poking out from under the blanket.

Maybe some water will help, he thought, as he slowly slipped out of bed and walked out of his room.

He rushed out past the living room and to the kitchen, but stopped once he heard low grumbling in the dark room. He stood just inches away from the doorway, watching as a large figure walked by the counter to where the trash bin would be.

"Stupid fuckin' earplugs don't do jack shit…" the figure growled as he tossed something into the small bin.

Though Tails couldn't see him too well in the dark, he knew it was Sonic, turned into that beast form again. Just hearing his voice, though gruff and annoyed, made him feel at ease. He smiled, amused by Sonic's uncharacteristic language.

"Two rings for the swear jar, Sonic," Tails said as he flicked the light switch on.

Sonic nearly jumped at the sound of his brother's voice, quills spiking up slightly. He looks back at the two-tailed fox, spines quickly settling back into place as he put a large paw on his chest.

"Geez, kid, you almost gave me a heart attack," the beastly hedgehog said as he began walking towards him.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you…" Tails rubbed the back of his neck, "Since when did you have such a potty-mouth?"

"Eh, I'unno," he shrugged, leaning on the kitchen counter, "Guess you just start swearin' more when you get older. Things start pissin' you off more, I guess."

"That's another one for the swear jar. Now you owe three rings," Tails smirked.

"Oh, that does not count-"

"Yeah, it does-"

"No, it doesn't!"

"Yes it does-!"

Light flashed through the kitchen window, lighting up the dark and dreary skies for a split second, before thunder crashed down. Tails nearly jumps out of his skin, yelping in fear. Sonic jolts, too, grimacing and quickly covering his pointed ears.

After the shock from the thunder had passed, Sonic uncovered his ears and looked back to his younger, terrified brother.

"Storm's keeping you up, too, huh?"

Sonic wasn't scared of storms like Tails was. He can usually sleep through anything.

Guess tonight was an exception.

"Yeah… This happens every time…"

Tails doesn't know why he's so afraid of storms, of the sound of thunder and the flash of lightning. It's not like the shock of hearing a sudden loud noise out of nowhere that everyone experiences, that's just a reflex.

This is fear.

"Need some water?" Sonic asked, his voice as gentle ever, though corrupted by his transformation.

Tails nodded, wrapping the blanket he held tighter around himself. He sat down while Sonic grabbed two glasses, one for himself and another for Tails.

Sonic added ice to his own glass before pouring water in, which confused Tails. They never drank tap water, instead buying it bottled or by the gallon and keeping it in the fridge so they always had cold and clean drinking water. Never knew when Eggman would poison the water reserves (either accidentally or intentionally), so it was always good to have. But it was already cold, and Sonic doesn't usually take ice with his drinks, so why would he need it?

The hedgehog placed Tails' glass on the counter as he sat down next to him. They both drank their water in silence, listening to the rain pouring against their home.

Then Tails heard a crunching sound. He looked to his brother.

Of course, he had gotten the ice to chew on it. Why didn't he think of that before?

His teeth growing like that every night must be painful, and with his ears being more sensitive and all the loud noises from the storm, he must be stressed. Not that Sonic would ever say that outright, of course, but Tails could tell.

He's found a solution to one of his problems, at least. Ice isn't going to help much with loud sounds, though.

"Hey, Sonic? I've got some noise-cancelling earphones in my workshop, if you wanna-"

"Already tried 'em," he interrupted, "They don't work on me."

Tails stared at his brother for a moment as he continued chewing away at his ice.

"... You better have not touched anything else in my workshop."

"I didn't, I swear!" he raised his paws defensively, "That's the only thing I touched, and I put 'em right where I found 'em."

"Mhm. You better."

"... Wish they could've kept out the noise."

They both fell silent again.

Tails thought as he took the final gulps of his glass of water. He really wanted to help Sonic, yet it didn't seem like there were many solutions to their problems, especially not immediate ones. Though he had an idea to design some specialized noise-cancelling earphones for his brother, he logged that away for later, as that would take far too long to make right now.

Working on a project like that right now wouldn't help him get any sleep, either. Tinkering at inventions is usually what keeps him from sleeping, and it won't stop the storm.

Tails sighed. He feels heavy, tired. He was finally starting to get his sleep schedule in order and this storm came in and ruined it. How frustrating…

Lightning strikes again, scaring Tails half to death. Sonic barely even reacts this time, only grimacing and rubbing his head as a low growl escapes his throat. He seemed just as tired, if not even more tired than Tails.

The hedgehog gets up from his seat. "I'm gonna try sleepin' on the couch. You wanna stay with me or do you wanna go back to your room?"

Tails follows, grabbing his hand. "I… don't wanna be alone…" he mumbles.

"Alright, buddy. C'mon," Sonic said as he led the young fox into the living room with him, flicking the light switch off on his way out.

Sonic let himself fall onto the red sofa in their living room, sleepiness beginning to take hold of him. Tails pushed a few crumpled papers away and sat on the rug right in front of it, still too scared to sleep yet.

He looked at the bookshelf on the left wall of the room. His figure collection lay neatly on the shelf, alongside a large array of books he and Sonic had collected over the years. He could try reading, but he doubts he can focus on anything like that with this storm.

He then looked to the low table, covered in papers and crayons. Some of the papers had been doodled on, others crumpled up. Some had rolled onto the floor, and neither he nor Sonic had bothered to clean them up yet. They should do that soon.

Thunder strikes again. The fox yelps. Sonic gives a dirty look out the window, as if that would stop the storm. It seems he isn't as bothered by the noise now, at least.

He yawns, unable to contain the tiredness that has overtaken him. Yet before he lies back and tries to drift off to sleep, he offers a large, blue paw to his shaking brother. His left paw, the one with Chip's bracelet around his wrist.

Tails takes it, holding his older brother's hand as he takes deep breaths. Sonic's thumb gently rubs the top of his hand, careful not to scratch him with his sharp claw. It was fluffy, the peach fuzz that once covered Sonic's skin having grown into short, thick fur. And yet, underneath the fur, he could still feel the callouses and small scars on his skin. The gem on his bracelet emitted a soft, green glow.

All of it was familiar, comforting.

But a part of Tails felt embarrassed for needing this kind of help. He was ten years old now, and a super genius, yet all it took was a little storm to turn him into a shaking mess.

It's kind of pathetic, he thought.

"You okay, buddy?" Sonic asked, voice as soft as he could make it. He looked at him with such kindness in his emerald eyes, despite how sharp they looked now.

"... I feel kind of stupid right now," Tails admitted.

Sonic's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Because… because of all this. I'm ten already, and I'm still scared of lightning. I've beaten killer robots and mad scientists and this is what gets me. I'm not a little kid anymore. It's so stupid…"

"Hey, we've all got our fears," Sonic squeezed his hand, "I'm almost eighteen, and I'm still scared of water."

"That's… different."

"How so?"

Tails tried to think of some kind of justification, or excuse, but came up with nothing. As far as he knew, both his and Sonic's fears were irrational. There wasn't a difference besides the cause of the fear itself.

Sonic shook his head.

"It's okay to be scared of things sometimes, whether there's a reason for it or not. And it's okay to need help, too."

Tails sighed. He may be right, but that doesn't make it feel any less embarrassing.

Sonic yawns, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "Alright, I think that's enough talking from me. I'm gonna try and get some sleep, but I'll be right here if you need me, 'kay? And I'll pay for the swear jar tomorrow, promise."

"Okay…" the fox nods, watching his brother as he relaxes on the sofa and slowly drifts to sleep.

Sonic always had an easier time falling asleep. Tails can't say he doesn't envy it.

Tails looks out the window, watching the storm as it begins to relent, if only slightly. It's probably one or two in the morning now, but he can't be bothered to look at a clock to tell the exact time.

He leans back onto the sofa, still holding his brother's hand. He tugged the blanket closer to himself with his other hand.

As the storm raged on, Tails found comfort in his brother's loud snoring. The sound once annoyed the fox, but now it served to drown out the dreadful thunder crashing outside.

A small smile crept onto his face as he finally felt himself drift off to sleep as well.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic the werehog #miles tails prower #tails the fox #fanfiction #sonic fanfiction #fanfic #sonic fanfic #making a tag for this even tho i might not use it often #not until i finish and post sonic eclipse at least #speaking of which. little update on that! #i started rewriting the whole thing. lol #i'm back at chapter six tho! and it's going a lot faster since i have a better idea of how events will go #for some reason i only get motivated to write while i'm at school so i barely got anything done during the summer #but i'm making progress and that's what matter to me #☆my writing☆ #edit: changing the tag so it doesn't have the spaces between the words and the stars #so now it actually matches my art tag

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

just realized it's been like 6 weeks since I updated HSM. oops. Sorry, readers!

#time goes too fast?? #i dont have writers block exactly #its more like the next few chapters could go in different directions and i cant choose which this story needs #also ive been busy and when i find time to write i just want to write. not make decisions #hopefully ill have something for you guys soon but idk!! #at least im actually working on it today but the scene im writing might end up getting used in a later chapter #writing this much angst is hard i need lots of mental vacations from it #he slays monsters tag #beatrice.txt #fanfic tag

[clefairytea]

So I’m about to make a completely insane post. Excuse me.

So I got this comment on Peaks and Valleys the other day, on the chapter where Blue is in the airport and has to put all his Pokemon in holding.

Grabs this anon’s shoulders. I thought about this. I thought about this a lot. I went back and forth on it during this chapter so much.

And I actually concluded that the airline security does not necessarily imply this. While a lot of our real-world flight security was considerably tightened and comes as a direct result of 9/11, I don’t think that’s the case here.

I think this is actually much more mundane safety concerns. Even an incredibly well-trained and well-behaved Pikachu, if surprised by a bout of turbulence, might let off some static. That’s going to interfere with the equipment and make things unsafe.

What about the incredibly variable size and shape of pokemon - what happens if some kid releases Mom’s Nidoqueen or Wailord in the middle of a flight? That’s a big and heavy pokemon to suddenly have in an enclosed space where weight of cargo has to be well accounted for.

Even if you bring a small Pokémon, evolution could happen really suddenly - especially due to environmental effects. Imagine someone’s got their cute little Tyrunt next to them on the flight, it sneaks a rare candy or something, and next thing you know there’s a massive 600lbs Tyrantrum to deal with.

What about the effects on the pokemon themselves - moving quickly at high altitudes between different places and weather patterns is probably going to make a Castform kind of sick and out of sorts.

Pokeball locking, enforcing Everstone use, or having specific regulations about what Pokémon can go on flights and what can’t. Those could be feasible solutions but would also require a lot of overhead. There’s hundreds of different Pokemon, the average flight holds about 200 people, every single person could carry up to 6 pokemon with them. That’s a LOT of SOPs and guidelines to write, a lot of things to check, potentially a lot of things for passengers to get done (I didn’t consider this at the time because it was pre-Scarvio, but Everstones can only be bought in ScarVio at 3000 yen a pop - otherwise they have to be found in the wild. That’s an expensive and annoying thing to source for either passengers or the airline).

The most effective solution - short of forcing everyone to put their pokemon in boxes to get on the other end (and box software varies by region potentially causing complication, a lot of people would really resist this, etc), is just to securely hold all Pokémon in the same way apart from the human passengera until the end of the flight.

In conclusion: never think I didn’t excessively think about the implications of Pokemon air travel in my gay fanfic. I am insane and I did.

#clefairy squeaks #I genuinely thought about this SO damn much during this chapter #To point of actually being able to remember it which I normally can’t

[deadsetobsessions]

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

F

E

L

L.

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

#batman #peter parker #dc x marvel #Peter Parker gets yeeted into Gotham #spiderman #oc #red robin #dark matter #inspidered by the fic dark matter #yes that’s a pun #dick Grayson #nightwing #dick grayson is Richard Parker #richard parker #Oracle #Jason Todd #red hood #tfw you get conan’ed #Peter: making friends one roof top at a time #Spider in Gotham AU

[class1akids]

BNHA 423 - Thoughts (aka how to fumble your ending: a masterclass by Kohei Horikoshi)

I won't have time on Sunday, so I'll write up my chapter thoughts today. Probably the last time for this series (unless we get a Todo-family moment in the epilogue).

I've joined this fandom 6 years ago and written countless meta and analysis. I'm grieving today not that the story has come to an end, but the way it fumbled its landing.

Last chapter: Deku after a combo from everyone Rises to everyone shouting Ganbare and All Might Annointing him as HIS personal Jesus Greatest hero

This chapter:

Everyone's aggregate animosity (including 16 members of Class A - missing: Uraraka, Bakugou, Shoto and Aoyama) and the strength Deku added to OFA in 2 years kill AFO-in-Shigaraki's regen (even though he was engineered by Ujiko to be able to hold OFA).

Deku punches the body of that little crying boy he yapped about saving of the big bad and it starts to crumble. So AFO looks for a new host in Deku.

We get to the only good point in this chapter: as Aizawa is yelling for Midoriya, ShiraGiri worries about Tomura. The tragedy of how their lives went in separate ways. The only person on this battlefield who cares about Tomura is Kurogiri

WTF - I'm emotional. This must help bring Tomura back, right?

Let me see! what's happening on the vestige side?

Is Kurogiri dead? Why?

I NEED ANSWERS!!!

Or fuck that - let's get to Bakugou, because why not. Obviously, he's in desperate need of another highlight.

Let's even make sure he gets personally praised in case in the last 5 chapters he was not mentioned we forgot how he's the awesomest. Who cares about Kurogiri dying in the background? Who cares about Aizawa's or Mic's feelings? The most important question is how Bakugou got to the battlefield.

Oh, wait, here comes the twist. Remember that crappy little panel of Shoto in the last chapter? No? Don't worry. Neither does 99% of the fandom, except a few die-hard Shoto-fans.

Well, you see, that crappy panel was actually Shoto being hidden as he lifted up Deku at the end of that long combo to give him his last push. And the one above, is not a BKDK combo but an Origin Trio combo. It's just cropped the same way BKDK shippers always crop Shoto out of any Trio pictures.

Congratulations, Kohei Horikoshi-sensei! What an amazing twist. You managed to write Schroedinger's Origin Trio scene! It happened, but maybe it never did. Thanks for stringing me along all these years through the rollercoaster rides of Origins and Risings. I'll take that playground from you and give it to fanfic writers who actually care about maintaining it.

While Bakugou is yelling in the background, Deku is pulling a Mirio on AFO and calls him friendless. The worst thing that can happen to a Shonen boss.

There is some incomprehensible mumbo jumbo about OFA-magic - but don't worry peeps - it's all a set-up for Deku getting it back (in case you are one of the people who seems really to be worried about that)

And then AFO realizes - due to Deku transferring the last bit just so - that he was just a sad little human who loved his brother all along. Yoichi's lifelong efforts to make an impact on AFO didn't do anything. Only the Jesus-Punch-of-Magic did. Too bad.

Oh no, the whole fucking peanut gallery is back to nobody's surprise. (Actually All Might is missing, which may suggest Deku will only get the stockpile back). Even if Deku gets OFA back, please don't transfer these guys back. I'm so sick of them. They were a total waste of time and took Deku's precious real estate for introspection. Fuck that. I don't actually care. Deku has been damaged beyond repair.

GROUP FIST BUMP!!! Amazing Climax. Maybe a double spread, Sensei?

HK: Sorry, I used up my double spread quota on Bakugou!

I'm not one to criticize Horikoshi's artstyle, but boy, this panel is so underwhelming compared to the stuff he drew in this endgame. Is this your big AFO vs OFA clash????

What happens when Ghost Fist collides with Real blood? Of course, it will transfer all that sweet Ghost-DNA!!!

Aka - Horikoshi is saying - Don't worry, Deku won't be quirkless.

OK. Well. Let's move on.

Here is another line from Horikoshi's outline. Did you want to see a heart-warming scene between Nana and Tenko? Too bad for you. You get Bakugou, you voted for him.

(Btw, Shoto is not the only one who doesn't seem to be allowed to have a proper scene with his mom, I guess Tenko cannot even get an emotional afterlife scene. If you are an abuse-victim in story, Horikoshi says - fuck you! Take a swan dive and hope to be reborn as a bully in your next life).

Well, at least Tomura noticed that Kurogiri mysteriously died after Horikoshi couldn't think up an actual proper endgame for him.

OK, onto the MAIN ANTAGONIST's final monologue. It will be deep after being built for 400 chapters, right?

Shigaraki: Well, I didn't even manage to destroy your hand. I amount to just a crying boy.

Deku: Well, I still hate you for stabbing Kacchan and the others. (forget the others, I never cared about the others). I killed you because I was sick of your moping it's the International Board of Therapist's recommended therapy for victims of abuse and grooming.

Shigaraki: Well, what do I say to that. That's so fucking stupid.

Shigaraki: And to my gay little boyfriend, I leave my treasured Nintendo controller.

Deku: Yeah, whatever. I don't really have any thoughts. I've stopped introspection in Act 2. Your life sucked. You need to fuck off now and stop spreading the sadness, I have a victory punch to perform.

Deku: This is the story of how I became the greatest hero by punching the fuck out of this crying, abused little boy and then bathing myself in his nasty pixie dust. killing 2 main villains for the price of 1 in under 7 pages and changed the weather for the dudebros on Twitter can cry about the blue sky in the anime again. I also eradicated sadness with punching it hard enough.

Also - I probably still have a quirk. Tune in to find out in two weeks.

Sensei, with all due respect - this chapter was ass. Visually, thematically, from a storytelling point of view. Even the good ideas were executed badly or were crammed in with terrible ideas. What a fucking let-down.

Will Shigaraki go and be the hero of the villains?

I can see him reconstruct with Overhaul and magic, or I can see that we will get a reveal where Deku had the Lion Turtle solution all along and he has punched Shigaraki just at the angle to magically manifest 5-year old crying Tenko and save him and he was cold and aloof because he already "saved the boy".

I can see a BS solution incoming. But it will not fix this chapter for sure, nor the broader writing issues with Deku's character and with the Deku - Tomura dynamic.

#c1a reads bnha #probably for the last time #bnha 423 #bnha manga leaks #bnha manga spoilers #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #shigaraki tomura #kurogiri #aizawa shouta #afo #rooftop trio #bnha meta

[inklessletter]

Congratulations, first of all, for reaching the milestone 💐💐💐 you deserve every single follower, and then some. Your art is always so pretty and I love how you bring us along during your process.

Secondly, would you like to make art based on this fic of mine? I'm thinking right at the beginning, when Eddie falls to his knees on stage and he and Steve have their "moment".

Thank you for hosting this fanart party ❤️

Steve tilts his head, and Eddie prepares for a kiss. He gets no lips, only tongue; Steve licks his mouth, from one corner to the other.

🎸🎸🎸

@2btheanswertothequestion

This one was SO MUCH FUN TO DO. I had trouble finding good references for the ambiance, but I love the result. Please, go read the fic, it's so good.

I know that I don't know many of the users that sent me requests a few weeks ago, but I've got a tiny story to tell about this one (I'm getting to know you little by little and I'm falling for every single one of you, you talented fuckers). They are the reason I am in Tumblr. It happens that I created an account many months ago, and didn't know how to use this, I just clicked "follow" to the tags and the blogs ST/Steddie related that posted fics and arts, and on my way to work, in the bus, I read the first chapter of a fanfic that made lose my stop (literally, I got late to the office that day).

Sad thing is the next time I opened the app, the fic was gone. I just remembered a few things and god knows that the search bar in this site works... well, works. Sometimes. I couldn't find it. I made it my personal goal to actually find this fic again, and this user, whose name I didn't catch because, again, I didn't know how to use Tumblr. This user pulled a full Cinderella on me, reading with intent every fic until the shoe fit. And I found it by mere coincidence, because they posted the third part, and I was like "WAIT IS THIS IT?". And it was it.

In the meanwhile, I actually completed my account, like you know, trying not to make it look like a bot (that I learned that it was a bad thing that could get me blocked), I put a profile picture, I made it decent, I learned how to use Tumblr (a bit). So, you see. This user, my beloved @2btheanswertothequestion is the one to blame that I actually stuck in this place. If you're wondering which one was the fic that got me so hooked up it was November Paramedic. (Here the AO3 link). Go read it, you're gonna love it.

(I'm kinda mad that they didn't asked me to draw the actual picture of the calendar, though. I have some ideas, I might draw it the future, because when I say that I hold this fic very close to my heart, I mean it.)

I really, really hope you like it, I worked hard on it and I did this with every bit of love stored in my heart ❤️❤️❤️

#inklessletter #trust the process #fanart #steddie #steddie fanart #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #st art #st fanart #digital art #artists on tumblr #concert #kissing #ink's art #final art #2btheanswertothequestion #fic #fic rec #sorry it took so long #it looks hot tho #piercings suit them so bad

[ieatstarsforaliving]

The Fucking Fight Club (2)

Summary: Hazel tries to control her powers during the first fight club. But because she's a loser, she fucks up. A lot.

Pairing: Spider-Woman!Hazel Callahan x Classmate!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), mild violence, mentions of bruises and blood

Word Count: 3866

Note: Okay I know I gave y'all the first chapter yesterday but you guys surprised me with so much likes, I quickly whipped up the next chapter. The ending is kind of bad but lmfao idc. It's extra long cause I probably can't write until next weekend due to fucking midterms. I wish I could drop out and write fanfics all day long. But life is unfair to the gays. - Bia <3

“Okay, before we actually do this, I want Hazel to practice controlling her punches.” 

Josie had dragged PJ and Hazel to a hiking trail in the nearest forest. This wouldn’t have been mandatory if Hazel didn’t have the super-strength to murder a human with a single blow, but since she did, Josie wasn’t about to let the feminist self-defense fight club happen without a bit of rehearsal. 

“Fine, mom.” PJ rolled her eyes. She was used to Josie’s dramatic cautiousness, but this seemed like a waste of time. She turned to Hazel and offered her face. “Hazel, just relax, and punch me.”

Hazel did a double take. “Punch… punch you?”

“Okay, I don’t like that tone. I know how to take a punch. Something people would always say is ‘PJ knows how to take a punch.’ Come on up.”

“PJ, she literally beat up a grown man with metal octopus arms last week. And the week before that, a man made of indestructible sand. You remember that? On the news? You might know how to take a punch, but you don’t know how to take her punch.”

“That’s why we’re practicing!”  

“I meant like practice on a tree or something.” Josie waved towards the nearest tree, standing about 25 feet tall. “Hit a tree, Hazel.” 

Hazel shrugged, before pulling back and punching into the middle of the tree. In a split second, the tree quaked under the assault, its massive frame crackling under the exact spot of Hazel’s fist. The bark gave away first, exploding outward in a radial pattern. When she retracted her hand, there was a massive dent on the thick body of the tree, jagged fault lines extending from the center of the impact. 

PJ’s eyes widened. “Holy fuck. That could have been my face.” 

Josie shook her head. “Okay, so, obviously, you have to calm down. By a lot. Try the same thing, but like, weaken it?” 

Hazel nodded. She then gently tapped the tree with her fist. 

Josie shook her head again. “That was clearly too weak.” 

Hazel sighed. “I don’t know if I can do this, guys. I’m so used to punching psychopathic criminals who want to kill me, so I’m always using at least 90% of my strength.” 

“Which is why I brought this.” Josie pulled out a piece of paper from her bag. It turned out to be your face printed on an A4 sheet with a speech bubble that read, ‘punch me!’ “Now, hear me out—”

“-Actually, this is brilliant,” PJ said, taking the paper from Josie’s hands. She taped it to the tree and presented it to Hazel. “Imagine the tree is (Y/N). She’s standing in front of you. She’s sexy, she's wearing a bikini, she’s ready to learn, and she’s asking you to punch her. What do you do?” 

Hazel stared at the tree with your face on it. In spite of this entire scenario being outrageously stupid, Hazel’s eyes fixated on the piece of paper, trying to immerse herself in your 2D face. It seemed to be a copy from last year’s yearbook, one that she had spent many hours staring at. She felt weirdly guilty as she wrinkled her eyebrows.

“I don’t really want to punch her.”

“Well, you have to! This is for feminism!” PJ groaned when she saw the hesitancy in Hazel’s face. “Hazel, women like strong, protective people. Why do you think there’s a hulk shrine in the girl’s second floor bathroom? You punch (Y/N) straight in the face, and she’ll immediately fall in love with you.” 

“Well–”

“-She will, Josie.” 

Hazel nodded. It was worth a try. If she wanted to wrestle with you in this club, she had to try. With a measured breath, Hazel extended her arm, fingers curling into a tight fist. She delivered a punch, focusing on her strength rather than causing harm. The moment of impact was firm but gentle, almost considerate towards the tree’s bark. It was as if the tree had barely registered the encounter, although its leaves were left shaking. She turned to her friends. 

“Perfect,” PJ whispered, her eyes glistening in awe. “Let’s go beat some bitches up.”

“Not how I’d word it,” Josie muttered. 

That afternoon, you were taking a hike in the same forest with Isabel and Brittany. It was quite calming, walking and talking with your friends in the middle of a beautiful forest. Birds were chirping, winds were breezing– And you guys were completely alone, since nobody really came here, and if they did, it was usually after sunset to do drugs and film porn. 

The three of you reached the midpoint of the trail to take a small break, when Brittany pointed at a nearby tree. 

“Hey, isn’t that…” 

You followed her finger to a tall tree that seemed to be beaten up by someone, with its bark splintered and smashed by a form of impact. And in the middle of its trunk, was a photo of you, with a speech bubble that read ‘punch me!’. 

Your heart dropped. 

“Oh my god, (Y/N), somebody wants to kill you,” Isabel gasped. She walked up to the tree and ripped the paper off. “Isn’t this from our yearbook?” 

You reached out to take the paper from Isabel’s hand and inspected it closely. It was indeed a page from the previous year’s yearbook, with your smiling face captured in a freeze-frame moment of your junior days. The speech bubble, however, had been added later, which meant that someone had deliberately printed your face, edited it, and pinned it to a tree to violently punch it out. 

You felt a chill down your body. Who could have done this? You knew it was hard to be friends with everyone from school– but who would despise you enough to do this vicious and also slightly weird property damage to nature? 

“We should report it or something, like to a park ranger,” Brittany offered, sensing your panic.  

“No, They’re just going to tell us not to come back here wearing shorts,” You sighed. There were no cameras on the trail or anything, and the park rangers were men who were probably going to comment on your appearance instead of the actual problem at hand. “I have to do something about this by myself.” 

You needed protection. No, you needed to learn how to protect yourself. You needed teachers who could help you protect yourself from evil highschool men. 

You needed Hazel Callahan. 

You turned to your friends with a determined face, masking your fear before saying;

“Do you guys want to join a self-defense club with me?”

 Isabel and Brittany paused, exchanged glances, then nodded. 

“What the fuck. These girls are ugly.”

It was the first club meeting for the feminist self-defense fight club, and there were exactly 8 girls waiting in the gym. Absolutely no sign of you. Hazel laid on the gym mats, trying not to show her disappointment. She reached for her phone, staring at your number in her contacts. She never got to texting you because she was panicking over what to say one night, and was busy fighting off muggings and carjackings every other night. 

“Are you stressed? Cause I’m stressed,” Josie muttered, as the advisor for the club hopped in, earning a sharp breath from Hazel. 

“Hey, ladies! Let’s get it poppin’ in this motherfucker.”

Hazel blinked. Mr. G was the advisor for this club? 

This was going to be absolutely horrendous. 

“Alright, uhm… hello, everybody,” Josie tried, looking around the gym filled with girls jumping on trampolines, hula-hooping, scooting, and balance-balling. “Okay, excuse me, sorry, I feel- sorry–” 

“-EVEVRYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP.” PJ hit the floor with a broom, each collision echoing through the space with a ‘BANG’. 

“This isn’t a little hangout, okay? Oh it’s not a sleepover or playtime. There are serious rules that we need to establish, okay? 

“First? Listen to Hazel.” 

Hazel lifted her hand in a subtle gesture. 

“Second? Be on time. Except for you,” PJ pointed to Mr. G. “You come whenever you want. What time is it?”

“3:30–-” 

“-3:30! Club starts at 3:15. Not 3:16, not 3:17. But the door closes at 3:15. No exceptions!”

Hazel smiled. Other than the fact that they were the ones who were actually late, PJ was doing amazing, putting authority towards the three girls and setting the ambiance. PJ could be a menace sometimes most of the time, but when she wanted to get shit done, she got shit done. Hazel was almost too distracted by PJ’s rant—

“-I don’t care, if you’re like, oh, but I had to go get extra help for math because I need to get a full ride because my mom lives in a trailer and she loves her boyfriend more than me, bleh blah blarh blargh– Shut up. My dad left me and I’m incredibly punctual–”

–That she didn’t even notice you walking into the gym with Isabel and Brittany following closely behind. When she did notice, her heart seemed to pick up speed, her lips curling into a smile even without realizing. Josie recognized the smile– one that Hazel only had when she was talking about her crush— and Josie turned around, motioning to PJ that the holy trinity had entered the gym. 

Your eyes met with Hazel’s, and you waved in acknowledgement. She almost dropped her notebook as she looked around to check if you were waving to someone else, and then she fumblingly waved back. You giggled. Hazel had this face that effortlessly radiated innocent charm. You weren’t sure why, but you were drawn to her slightly nerdy demeanor. (it’s called being gay)

“Hey, guys. Come on in,” PJ rasped. “Uh… we’re just getting started here.” 

You walked to Hazel and stood beside her. “Sorry we’re late,” you apologized. 

The three girls shook their heads. “Don’t worry about it—”

“-Uhm, the rules were for next week, but this week is good–”

“-Yeah, no worries, take it easy.” 

Annie seemed confused. “Okay, I just want to make sure– This is a self-defense class, right? Where we can learn to protect ourselves against football players.”

“And the criminals that Spider-Woman has been fighting? Cause, uhm, crime rate has been going up so criminals are gonna pork us. They’re gonna pork us.”

“I thought we were fighting each other for money. There’s a cash prize, right?” 

“I thought this was to be a part of like a local, underprivileged female community.” 

“My identity is completely attached to hers so I just go wherever she goes.”

“I thought I could learn how to protect myself. Cause I’m pretty sure someone’s trying to kill me,” You added. 

“What?” Hazel turned, her eyes filled with worry. 

“Everyone’s here for a good reason!” Josie laughed. “So, you know, why are we nitpicking reasons?” 

“Yeah! So, let’s jump in. Hazel, why don’t you take it away?” 

“Uh.” 

PJ and Josie stepped back and began clapping. Everyone else followed along into a scattered and confused applause. Hazel walked to the front, opening up her notebook to the page reading ‘Self-Defense Club.’ 

“Okay. Hi. I’m Hazel. And I’m going to teach you guys how to fight. Maybe throw some punches. Some kicks.”

There was a bit of silence, maybe a single cough. PJ spoke up.

“(Y/N), since you’re closest to Hazel, why don’t you volunteer and step up?” 

You shrugged. “Sure.” 

You weren’t completely sure what was going on or how exactly Hazel was going to teach self-defense, but you dropped your backpack to the floor and walked towards Hazel, who looked incredibly afraid of what was going to happen next. She looked over your shoulders to PJ and Josie. 

PJ mouthed the words, ‘Punch her. She’s the tree. Punch her.’

Hazel sent signals through her eyes meaning, ‘I can’t– I’m not gonna punch her.’ 

PJ continued to mouth the words, ‘Punch her. Hulk shrine. Imagine her wearing a bikini.’ 

Hazel’s face contorted with disbelief, her eyebrows raised in surprise, and her mouth slightly agape. Was she actually going to punch the girl that she’d been crushing on for years? Was this really the way to do it? She tried to ignore PJ who was now mouthing ‘punch your virginity away’ and instead curled her hands into fists, imagining the tree, the print-out of your face saying ‘punch me!’, you wearing a bikini, your smile, your wave, your eyes, your body—

-While you stood beside her, wondering why Hazel looked like she was about to shit herself. You began to open your mouth to ask if she was okay. 

“Hazel—”

—And she flung her fist to your face. 

You didn’t even register what had happened until a sharp burst of pain radiated from your nose, and you found yourself laying on the floor of the gym. You heard gasps and shouts and something about Mr. G trying to shut the club down (“Hey hey hey hey hey– I don’t know about this shit-”) as you slowly sat up, tasting liquid metal. The pain began to spread to the rest of your face as your eyes blurred up, leaving you momentarily stunned and struggling to regain your composure. 

“Fuck, (Y/N)- I’m so sorry-” a horrified voice rang in front of you, and you felt a warm hand against your cheek. The hand seemed to be shaking, and you wiped your hazy eyes to see Hazel kneeling beside you, her expression embedded with guilt. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” 

“You didn’t even warn her!” Annie screamed. 

PJ shrugged. “Okay, we didn’t get warnings in juvie. Juvie was way crazier. One time, this girl’s punching me in the rain. Fall to my knees. It’s muddy. I get up– I’m blind. Punch her right in the middle of her face. Broke her fucking nose.” 

“Pretty sure Hazel broke (Y/N)’s nose too,” Annie grumbled. 

Isabel hurriedly handed you a couple of paper towels as Mr. G pushed the crowd to assess the situation. 

“Let me see her,” Mr. G ordered, gasping when he saw the amount of blood coming from your nose. “Oh, shit, man, we gotta shut this down.” 

“No, No—” 

“-Shut this shit down. Shut it down—” 

“-No, Don’t blow the whistle– Don’t blow the whistle!” Josie yelled. Everyone went silent, turning their attention from you to Josie. “I know that, you know– this is a little messy and bloody right now— Hazel, can you take (Y/N) to the nurse’s office–  but like, the only way that we can learn how to defend ourselves is by teaching each other.” 

Josie continued on with her little speech as Isabel and Brittany offered to take you to the nurse. But Hazel denied their help, rambling something about how this was all her fault. She picked you up fairly easily to your surprise, bridal style, and carried you out of the gym. You clutched onto her and rested your aching face into her stomach, feeling embarrassed.

When you arrived at the office, the nurse had gone home already, leaving Hazel to place you on the examination bed and find the medical kit. She seemed really anxious as you touched your face, your hand coming back dripping in red. 

“God, juvie really taught you how to punch, huh,” You joked, battling your agony with humor. Hazel didn’t laugh. Instead she grabbed a cloth and ran it under the sink water, indulging the silence. You tried again. “Hazel.” 

It was ignored once again as Hazel kneeled in front of you and started cleaning your face, her thumb gently holding your chin. She was very obviously avoiding your gaze with the best of her ability. 

“Hazel, look at me.”

Hazel finally looked up to your eyes. She looked like a child knowing that she was about to be reprimanded or put on time out— and you almost felt sorry for Hazel, even though you were the one bleeding out. She seemed to grimace as you opened your mouth, getting ready to be shouted at. But instead, you asked;

“Why didn’t you message me?”

Hazel paused. 

“I gave you my number. You didn’t message me,” You said again, completely serious. “You don’t like me?” 

“No, I like you!” Hazel exclaimed. Her cheeks turned into a shade of pink as she tried to reword the sentence. “I mean, I don’t don’t like you, I… I’m really sorry. I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to come to the club, and I’m sure you don’t want to anymore-”

“-No, I want to.” You interrupted. “I mean, my face hurts like a bitch, but… it was a solid punch. And I really do need to learn how to defend myself like that. I think someone’s trying to kill me, so I want to be ready.”

Hazel cocked her head. “Is someone attacking you? Do you need help?” 

You shook your head. “Not exactly, but I did see my face taped onto a tree, and someone had hit it really, really hard. Like, incredibly hard. Maybe with a rock, or something? I don’t know. I think it might be a death threat.”

Color seemed to drain out of Hazel’s face. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you–” You explained, mistaking Hazel’s pale skin as fear. “Listen, I’m not angry at you. Well, okay, I am a little, I think you could have warned me about the punch, at least, but… I know that you’re still recovering from your past and you’re probably on edge all the time.” 

Hazel nodded along, as it was partially true– she was on edge, but mainly because you were staring down at her with blood on your face and you still managed to look hot as fuck. She choked on her words before saying, “Still, I shouldn't have punched you like that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m really sorry.” 

You smiled. “This is the whole point of the club though, right? You punch me, I punch you… and we become stronger together– ow.” 

You winced when the cloth touched a particular spot on your nose bridge, being reminded of your injury. 

“Shit, sorry, here—” Hazel instantly dropped the cloth. She carefully cupped your face, examining your wound with sincere worry. She was used to seeing wounds on herself, but seeing them on a person that she liked— seeing them on you, made her particularly upset. 

You were surprised to see Hazel being so serious. Every time you tried to talk to her, she was either nervous or punching you. To see her so focused on your face made you feel a bit self-conscious, leading you to comment on her skills to break the silence.

“You seem to have a lot of experiences patching someone up. Do you do this often?” 

She chuckled, “You have no idea.” 

You assumed she was talking about juvie, and you recalled seeing the bruises on her face the last time you talked to her. Was Hazel still having problems with crime even after prison? You stared at her, your heart throbbing with sympathy for Hazel. What struggles had she faced in her past for her to learn to punch so strongly, to patch up bruises, and to always be nervous around others? 

Hazel pulled away from you, finishing up the basic patch-up. She started putting the medical kit away as you caught sight at the mirror across from you.

“Great. I look awful.” You sighed, lingering on your reflection.

“No, you don’t.”

Hazel tore her eyes away from the kit and responded, as if you had said something completely out of reality. You laughed and shook your head, looking at the floor.

“No, my face is a complete mess–” 

“-You look pretty.” 

You tore your eyes off from the floor to Hazel. She was staring at you with a soft look in her eyes, one that you felt yourself getting lost in. She had such… honesty within them, as if she fully believed your beauty underneath the red and blue color. 

“You always do.”

And for a moment you wondered how you had never truly seen Hazel before— when the soft glow from the sun streamed through the window, casting a warm light over the two of you. Hazel’s brown hair, cascading into a messy mullet, framed her face which seemed to be burning up each second that passed. 

“...you too,” You muttered, a shy smile replacing your dumbstruck expression. “I hope you know that.”

Then it was her turn to gawk, at you and your hands timidly placed on your legs which dangled from the examination bed. She was reminded of her crush that had been sitting in her heart for years. She had just spent 5 minutes in a room alone with you— and for a second, she was almost glad that she punched you. 

And all of a sudden, Hazel seemed to recognize the lack of space between the two of you. Had you been this close to her this entire time? Your face was just inches apart from hers, and time seemed to stretch as you two gazed at each other, hearts thumping in unison. It was as if the wall Hazel had managed to build around her feelings towards you crumbled within this moment. Hazel’s lips parted, just a fraction, as if inviting the inevitable to say—

“-The club isn’t being shut down!” 

The office door swung open with a bang. 

Hazel immediately leaped back from you, as you whipped your face towards PJ and Josie who stopped in their celebratory tracks, analyzing the odd tension from the room.

“Oh, sorry, we thought–” Josie gaped, rubbing the back of her head in awkwardness. “How are you doing, (Y/N)?” 

“I’m doing okay, actually. I should go. But I’ll see you later, bye.” You hopped down from the bed and started walking out of the room, talking a bit too fast for anyone’s comfort. You almost fell over while you ran down the hallway, unable to accept what had just unfolded. What was that? You almost— you almost kissed a girl. You almost kissed Hazel Callahan.

In the meantime, Hazel was also mortified at the fact PJ and Josie had interfered right then and there. She hid her face with her hands which her friends mistook for anger.

Josie tried to calm her down, “Okay, I know that today was kind of a disaster and you made (Y/N) bleed, but after you left we managed to grow the spirit. Everyone’s into beating each other up now. It’s kind of working.”

“And, I honestly don’t know what just went on right now but… (Y/N) just said she’ll ‘see you later’. Which means it kind of worked for you too,” PJ added. “And it doesn’t seem like you broke her nose, which meant that you can actually control your power!”

“Are you still up for this, Hazel?” 

Hazel peeked out from hands, her face still red, her heart still sprinting, her mind still thinking about your lips— and how you said you would see her later. A smile tugged at her lips as she nodded and said,

“Let’s fucking do this.”

Previous Chapter: The Origin

Next Chapter: The Set-Up for Chapter 4

#bottoms movie #hazel callahan #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan x reader #josie bottoms #pj bottoms #hazel callahan spiderwoman #hazel callahan x you #bottoms (2023)

[elexuscal]

don't mistag fanfics

don't deliberately keep off a zesty trope tag, or mark a romantic pairing as platonic, or add a pairing that isn't actually in the story, or whatever, just to get more views

it's incredibly rude, and potentially hurtful.

i know, i know. you like what you're writing. You want more people to see it, and you think that people would like it if they just gave it a shot.

but you don't get to make that call for your readers. yes, using this technique, some might read something they otherwise wouldn't, and enjoy it. but many will be avoiding that ship/trope/etc for a reason. at best, you might just annoy them; at worst, you can accidentally trigger someone.

it's a courtesy to be as honest with your tagging as possible. it helps people avoid things they don't like, and conversely, find things they do like.

What if I genuinely forget to tag something or accidentally mistag it?

that's fine! accidents happen, we're all learning. just be willing to listen when and if someone asks you to make changes : )

What if I want the trope/pairing to remain a surprise?

then use 'authors chose not to use archive warnings'! or you could have a beginning author's note saying "hey this story/chapter gets into some intense themes, check out the ending authors note for a full list". those are good tools to preserve the surprise while letting people opt-in or out as necessary

Be nice to your fellow readers, and help keep the fanfic community a safe, fun space for everyone :3

#fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #born out of learning some people are deliberately tagging romantic MBD fic as platonic to lure in new readers #don't do that it's a dick move #plus a post going around deliberately suggesting mistagging to get more readers

[anundyingfidelity]

YES, MA’AM — Sam Winchester/Sam Wesson ft. Dean Winchester/Dean Smith (Chapter I)

Summary: Sam is the new tech support guy at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., and he thinks you, his supervisor, are related to him in ways more than professional. He not only dreams of ghosts and Dean Smith, the sales and marketing director, but you, the pretty boss who seems very fond of him, maybe a little too much.

Word count: 1.3k.

Pairing: Sam W./Sam Wesson x female reader (main), Dean W./Dean Smith x female reader. Situated in 4x17 - It's a Terrible Life.

Warnings for this series: smut with plot, sexual tension, sub!Sam, dom!reader, switch!Dean, co-workers with benefits with Dean, boss/employee dynamics, canon violence and stuff. Slow updates oops.

Notes: welcome to my very first spn fanfic, hope you enjoy this short series of Sam and Dean!

If you'd like to be added, the taglist is here!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

Chapter I | Chapter II

Chapter I: A Boring Life

Taking a quick look at the clock on the corner of the screen of his computer, Sam let out a long sigh. Lunch hour was far from near. He continued drawing the monsters he saw in his dreams on the notebook, those who wouldn't let him continue his abnormally boring and stupid life.

"Hey, Sam," a voice called, making him jump slightly on his seat.

He cleared his throat shutting the notebook and sitting right this time as he took in your figure towering over him in the cubicle with a smile on your lips.

"Hi, uhm... Is something wrong?"

You chuckled slightly. He wanted to slap himself for saying that. For Sam, bosses coming to him meant he might have done something wrong. He didn't want to know what he screwed up. Barely three weeks have passed since he started working there. As much as things were strange and weird around, Sam just wanted a quiet life.

"Not at all," you answered in a friendly manner. "Actually I just wanted to give you kudos. I've received good compliments from customers who called for help, you're doing excellent!"

Sam breathed out, feeling a heavy weight on his back dropping. He smiled. "Well, thank you. It feels good doing that."

But a raise or something would feel absolutely better, he thought.

"Sure! You're brilliant, have you ever been told that?"

"Uhm, not here. I mean- I want to say you're the first one. Sorry, the first one to say I'm brilliant, I- uhm I never really got kudos before? I don't think so but it does feel great."

He stumbled so much with his words that it made you laugh a little but he noticed you tried to suppress it. So you gave him a nod.

"Yeah, of course. I also see you're very organized with your stuff and reports," you remarked before taking a quick glance around and leaning a little bit toward him, your face morphing into a shy look. "Probably I shouldn't but could you help me with some reports today? You'd be off the phone, I just really need to send them by the end of the day and I'm extremely busy."

You bit your painted lower lip with big doe eyes, waiting for an answer. Since the first day he saw you around the company, he thought you looked extremely familiar. Like he had seen you before. Hell, it was like he knew you ages ago. But he wouldn't say it out loud, he might look like a creep.

You'd usually come like this to his spot just to talk and get into business, sometimes he'd go to ask you something he wasn't sure about from a call, but he never, ever herd from a complaint or that his work was shit from you. In fact, you were very kind and smart, always letting him know you were there if he needed anything. And you were pretty. So damn beautiful that you got his heart agitated and his body aching when you bent over a desk wearing tight black pencil skirts and those matching high stockings. He began to think probably you liked him but you used to get close to all of your employees on the tech support floor. You were just being nice to everyone.

"Uh, sure. I can do that," Sam curved his lips into a smile.

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver! I'll send you those in your email, ask me anything if it's difficult, okay?"

You responded with happy demeanour and quickly walked away back to your office, leaving him alone before he had the moment to say something. Just two minutes later he received an email from you with a bunch of reports and data to organize.

Sam scanned the files quickly while hearing the sounds of a chair rolling to his side.

"I think she likes you, man," Ian, the messy and chill coworker of his, teased. Sam chuckled.

"Nah, she's just nice to everyone. Besides, she needs help."

Suddenly, a notification popped from the side of his screen on the computer.

It was a message from you. It read:

Put on the headphones and listen to some music if you want ;)

"You were saying?" Ian joked again.

He smiled. Well, at least he'd be off the phone. Shouldn't be that hard, right?

The night fell and Sam found himself alone on his desk at eight o'clock working on your reports. Seeing the long reports and files he thought could make it on time to finish his shift at four and leave on time. It was fucking Friday. Poor him.

At least you ordered delivery for dinner for both of you. The good thing was that he wasn't really alone on the floor, you were in your office but soft music played as you worked on your stuff. Moments later, you found yourself sitting by Sam's side as he worked the final things on the last report.

"It's done," he announced, his body falling to the backrest of his chair.

"Thanks," you whispered shyly as he sent the finished files back to you. "I'm so sorry though, it's so late."

"Well, didn't have anything to do either."

"Really?!"

Your surprise made his eyes fall on you. He shrugged. "Just sleep."

You raised your eyebrows. "I thought maybe a girlfriend was waiting for you or something?"

He shook his head, pressing his lips together. "No, nothing like that."

The question was odd coming from you, so he decided to play a little.

"What about you?"

This time you shook your head. "Just my books and my TV."

Sam hummed. "It's a boring life, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well I get to pay my bills by the end of the month... And I meet nice people here... And I see you- Sorry."

You cut off your words all of a sudden, your eyes blinking rapidly saying you realized what you just said.

"My bad. We should get going."

You gave him a smile to try and brush off your words, but they were strong enough to get in Sam's head unnoticed. He watched you walk away, turning your computer and lights off on your office as Sam did the same on his spot. Once done, you walked out the floor together in silence.

"Thank you again. I don't think no one would ever do this for me here," you admitted with a deep exhale.

"Yeah, no problem," Sam smiled kindly as you got closer to the elevator.

"Really, I owe you. Do you have a car to get home or something? I can give you a ride if you need."

"I do, don't worry," he said as you stopped in front of the elevator, the doors opening.

"Great, so I think this is it," you grinned at him. "Have a good night."

"Thanks. I hope you have a good weekend, boss."

You nodded. "You too, Sam. Take care."

He saw you disappearing inside the elevator with a wave of your hand and a beautiful smile on your face. With a sigh, he made his way to the locker room and took his briefcase and stuff out. It was just a couple of minutes that he saw you leaving when he went back to the elevator. Checking his watch, the lift arrived and before he could get inside, he got a shocking picture in front of him.

Dean Smith, the marketing director, had you pinned against the wall and kissing down your neck. Your blouse unbuttoned, skirt up, lips open and eyes closed in bliss. Dean noticed the doors were open, pulling away his plump lips from your skin.

"Sorry buddy, wrong floor," he beamed and pushed the right button.

When you opened your eyes once again, you met Sam's open mouth and wide eyes as the doors closed. Great, now he might think you're a slut. 

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x female reader #sam x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester imagines #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean x reader x sam #sam wesson #dean smith #supernatural fanfiction

[pennyellee]

preview

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, smut, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, yandere, threatening, kidnapping, partial religious behaviour, graphic violence, graphic depictions of torture, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, implied non-con, minor character death, spanking, blood, gaslighting (more to be added)

word count: 655

author’s note: yaaaaaay!! can't believe I actually made it to post a fanfic I desperately wanted to write for two whole years now. I am very much excited to share this preview from one of the chapters ♥ I'm rising from the dead when it comes to writing fics, so excuse any ridiculous mistake I make, I'll always try to look into it backwards. Lastly a big thank you goes to Bex @chaoticpuff17 who not only inspired me to write but constantly showed me love and support, therefore I would love to express my unending gratitude and admiration, love you baby ♥ lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

m.list CHAPTER I

“You crave the throne don’t you?” she asked cocking her head and chin defiantly, her narrowed eyes fixed on him. “I want you too.” She chuckled at his response. “I'm merely a convenient excuse, am I not?” Y/N smiled too sweetly. “You’ll kill m—” he rose from his chair, not even letting her finish. Grabbing her by her shoulders in steel grip with a penetrating gaze.

The fragile cup slipped from her trembling hands and shattered on the floor, a nearby maid prepared to clean up the shattered shards. “Leave us!” he barked at the startled girl, his voice filled with anger. Y/N's eyes widened. He was even more aggressive and intimidating than before.

“I could—” his voice seething with fury, “— I could gather man and slaughter your entire clan keeping you as a trophy, a symbol of my power.” The threat hung in the air, and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Fear was coursing through her, yet she resisted letting it control her.

“Matter of fact—” he continued, his grip tightening on her shoulders, eliciting a whimper of pain from her, “—you will be a symbol of the magnitude my power has, no matter if your father and family remain alive. So it’s on you. The fate of your kin rests in your hands. Their survival hinges on your decisions and how well you’ll cooperate.” He tightened his grip again, eliciting another whimper of pain from her.

“But I will never dispose of you.” he growled through gritted teeth, his tone a mixture of possessiveness and frustration. Gathering her courage, she managed to speak again, her voice trembling but filled with resolve.

“You cannot manipulate me like this. You think I’ll fall for this fucked up scheme? I have spent my entire life under the orders of others, forbidden from making choices for myself! And you have the audacity to use my innocence thinking I will willingly crawl into your bed and love you like a devoted lover.” Venom in her voice and the desperate tone made fall for her even more.

“I've only recently met you, so spare me your attempts to deceive me that you’re being my saviour.” Y/N has enough fire to still conquer and fight him back. “I refuse to be a passive participant in this game.” She shall not take it lying down.

“I'm giving you a choice—” he asserted, his voice laced with a dangerous undertone “—either you’ll walk down the aisle to me or there will be a bloodshed. I won’t send you back to your father nor will I relinquish you easily.” His eyes locked onto hers, and she could see the darkness consuming his pupils when anger consumed him.

“Call it love, obsession, or whatever you please, but no matter what imbecile attempts you make to fight or flee, we will inevitably end up together nonetheless," he declared with conviction. Was this the fate God had laid out for her? Her faith wavered, and if he didn't provide assistance soon she shall forbid him altogether.

“You just want to fuck m—” he cut her off abruptly, his voice low and seductive.

“I can either fuck you hard or I can make love to you,” said he, whilst setting her left arm free and sliding his to her thigh, caressing it sweetly.

Breathing started to become harder for Y/N. Unfamiliar sensations welled up in her lower belly whilst his touch was sending shivers through her body. Was this attraction? Excitement? Mother told her this is how love is supposed to feel like. Butterflies in her stomach. But she certainly wasn't in love with her captor.

He sensed her confusion and distress. Leaving her fall back to the chair. Finally letting her breathe freely. Yoongi sat back to his chair, collecting himself and his three peace suit he wears today.

“Loss of words, innit?” He chuckled.

.

.

.

.

coming soon CHAPTER I

©pennyellee. please do not repost

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

taglist: @chaoticpuff17 @honsoolgloss

#bts #bts fic #yandere yoongi #yandere bts #yandere namjoon #soft yandere #mafia au #yandere seokjin #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #hard yandere #yandere #yandere kpop #yandere taehyung #mafia bts #lacrimosa #myg angst #dark!yoongi #min yoongi x y/n #bts x you #yoongi smut #haegeum #suga x you #suga x y/n #suga x reader #historical au #bts historical au #bts yandere au #fic:lacrimosa

[staylovesmiley]

Collision— Chapter 1

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Pairing; Stray Kids x afab!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩Summary; You’ve known him for years but you never would have guessed the charming guy you’ve been online gaming with has been an idol this whole time. (masterlist here)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩Warnings; implied afab reader (only they/them pronouns used for reader), mild angst?, pls I haven’t written fanfics since 2018 patience and kindness is appreciated

It was already getting late, the sun having set hours before and the soft sounds of the city’s night life stirred out his bedroom window. Felix had just returned from a long day of schedules but was finding it hard to wind down now that he was left to his own devices. He had already reached out in the group chat to see if any of the members wanted to keep him company only for them to turn him down in favor of sleep, working on things in the studio, or even extra practice time which didn’t sound appealing to the blonde at this point in time. Needing something to distract himself from his idol self, Felix sat at his desk and began firing up a familiar program.

A soft lullaby-like melody began to drift into his headphones as he adjusted them on his head, quickly logging into the popular open world game as the opening theme soothed some of the restlessness he had been feeling since returning home. At first he was just going to play solo but curiosity got the better of him and he decided to pull up his friends list just to see who out of his gaming buddies might be online. To his surprise he saw one of them, a player that went by the name Starlight, on and decided to send over the co-op request.

Just as the request went through he heard the familiar chime of a call coming through on his discord. Quickly, Felix turned on his voice distortion software and answered the call with an amused smirk pulling at his lips. “Now, what are you doing up so late Star?” He questioned, listening to their laughter ring through the line. “It may be late for you but I’m actually on my lunch break at the moment, sir.” They responded in a teasing manner. He laughed sheepishly in returned. “You caught me there- was having trouble sleeping after work so I thought I’d game for a bit.”

Star hummed in understanding. “What time is it over there, like midnight right?” “Half past eleven, but you were close.” The Aussie cringed slightly at the sound of his voice echoing slightly in his ears with the distortion. For the safety of his privacy he always made sure to use a voice changer when on calls with his online friends, and never accepted video calls despite the curiosity a lot of them had as to what he looked like behind the screen. Star was one of the only ones to never push him for any photos or a video chat. He appreciated them for respecting his boundaries, though it would have been hypocritical of them since they also refused to show themselves though to his knowledge they didn’t go as far as to distort their voice in any way. “So, got anything in particular you wanna do or just sorta fuck around for a bit? I could use some help farming for Wanderer you know~” Their voice in a sing-song tone at the end. Chuckling at them, Felix agreed to help them out and quickly followed their lead in game.

About an hour later, their game cut short due to his companions lunch break ending. “Sorry bud- I’ll have to catch you some other time and I can repay the favor! You know how much I hate farming solo so this was a big help.” He could hear their smile in their voice, wearing what he assumed was a matching expression as he shrugged though he knew they wouldn’t be able to see it. “It’s no big deal, really. I’m glad we could keep each other company. I should probably head to bed myself-“ “Oh! Before I go I wanted to tell you…I’m actually going to be in your neck of the woods soon so maybe we can play some in the same timezone for once!” Felix paused for a beat. They were coming to Korea? All of his gaming buddies knew where he lived, though that and the fact he is originally from Australia was as far into his personal life as he was comfortable going with any of them.

Starlight had been one of his longest Genshin friends, having started playing around the same time as him they had met in a server for newbies to the game and hit it off quickly. The thought of them being so close was exciting yet a bit nerve wracking. Curiosity at the reason for their trip from the states to South Korea itched in his mind. “Oh really? What’s bringing you all the way to Korea?” Star squealed a litte, and he could lightly hear the sound of what he assumed was their feet tapping at the floor with excitement. “Well- I’ve been wanting to make a trip there for a while….not to sound cliche or anything but I’ve been a huge fan of kpop and kdrama since I was in like- middle school and I’ve never traveled outside of the states before so it seemed like a fun place to start.” Felix had to keep himself from choking on nothing. A fan? Of kpop- they had never mentioned this to him before in the years they had been online friends. His mind began to wonder. What groups did they like? Did they know about Stray Kids? What if they were a Stay? He felt his heartbeat quicken and reflexively put his fingers to his pulse and took a deep breath to calm himself. “Oh that’s cool! Any plans for when you get here?” He questioned, finally feeling a bit calmer. This was fine, the odds they would be stay were slim, and besides there was no way for them to know who it was they had really been playing with this whole time as he himself went through multiple precautions to hide his identity online. Then, he felt his worlds colliding with a single string of words from their lips. “Actually, yeah! One of the groups I’m a fan of is having a concert I was able to snag tickets for! Not sure if you’ve heard of them but they are pretty big these days, Stray Kids?” His eyes felt comically huge and the blonde thought he may faint. “Stray Kids?” Was all that he could muster as a response, throat suddenly very dry. “Yeah! They are like so incredibly talented. I wasn’t able to see them when they came here on tour last so I couldn’t pass up the opportunity after I finally decided to book a trip to Korea and they happened to be holding a concert at the same time. I’m so excited! But- oh i really gotta go or I’m gonna be late getting back from lunch. I’ll talk to you later okay?” Felix blinked a few times before fully registering their words. “Oh uh- yeah definitely. Talk to you later Stay- Star! Bye Star!” And with that he abruptly ended the call. Fuck. He called them Stay- hopefully they didn’t catch it in their haste to get back to work. His next conversation was sure to be interesting if they had happened to hear him….

author’s note: I’m super rusty at writing so I hope this is okay…feedback is welcome and encouraged! I started this cause it has been super slow at work and I’ve personally never read a fic having to do with reader and Felix being genshin co-op buddies and I thought it would be a fun concept (as a genshin player myself lol) Again, I hope those of you reading enjoyed it and I’m looking forward to updating soon. ᕱᕱ⊹ ࣪ ˖

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #x reader #afab reader #stray kids bang chan #stray kids lee know #stray kids changbin #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids han #stray kids felix #stray kids seungmin #stray kids i.n

[daydreams-after-dark]

What's your fanfic fantasy? part 4

Chapter Contents.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Part 11 // Part 12 // Part 13 // Part 14 //

Chapter summary: chan helps you fulfil a fantasy of sensual sex with a stranger.

Premise: OFC + Chan + Jisung 18+ fanfic. This is an AU story about Chan bringing your fantasies to life... but what happens when boyfriends Chan and Han fall in love with you?

Content Warnings: nudity, anonymous sexual encounter, blindfolds, anal fingering, blow job, angst, p in v unprotected sex.

You look out to the ocean from your balcony window. You're trying to calm your nerves and simultaneously build up the courage to go downstairs to make yourself some breakfast.

Why oh why did you send Chan that message last night? Admittedly, it was a very impulsive thing to do, and in hindsight you should have thought it through a bit more.

You hadn’t even considered what Chan might have thought. What if he doesn’t feel comfortable approaching a band member and saying “Hey do you wanna fuck y/n - and oh yeah, she won’t know it’s you?" Maybe he doesn’t want to make it look like you sleep around (not that that is even a bad thing)? Or what if none of them want to do it.

Oh my God. What if none of them want to fuck you? You shake your head. Get a grip.

Eventually, your hunger becomes too much and you head downstairs to the kitchen.

The kitchen is one of those gorgeous gourmet ones you see on Pinterest, and looks out onto a large living area that has enormous sliding doors, which opens out onto the ocean. It’s an absolutely gorgeous space, perfect for a creative getaway.

You hope that no one will be in there since you had waited well past what would be considered “breakfast” time to make your way down.

You tentatively peek your head in, and to your relief no one is there. Thank fuck. You survey the kitchen counter to see what you should eat, and see a cloche covering a plate with a note on top.

“Please eat me!”

You lift the covering to find fresh brownies underneath. Felix must have arrived. Felix isn’t in the band but he manages their tech. Plus he’s known the guys forever, and he makes the best brownies.

“Hey there.” you turn, startled, your mouth stuffed full of brownie.

It’s Jisung.

“You look good with your mouth full.” He teases and raises an eyebrow.

You manage to swallow your mouthful and stick your tongue out at him.

“Oh you want something else in you mouth do you?” he chuckles. “Actually, y/n. You’re not avoiding us this morning are you?” his tone turns serious. “You didn’t come down for breakfast.”

You shake your head “I was just tired.” you reply. He doesn’t believe you. You can see it in his face.

“You are… you’re okay with what happened yesterday then?” He looks at you intensely.

“Yes. Yes. Yesterday was fucking incredible.” you assure him, truthfully. It was incredible, but it’s the aftermath that has you confused. Confused about your feelings, your desires, about Chan and Jisung, and what they might be feeling.

“But?” he pushes.

“But nothing.” you respond more hastily than you intended.

He leans in “You weren’t freaked out when Chan fucked me were you?” he whispers.

Your breath hitches and your core aches at his words. “No! Everything is fine.” you reiterate.

Jisung nods. “Okay.” He seems reassured enough for now. “So, what about this blindfold thingy?” He changes the subject.

Your eyes widen. Of course Jisung would know about your message to Chan, but it doesn’t make you any less embarrassed.

“What did Chan say?” you ask with too much enthusiasm.

“He said-” Jisung begins.

“Jisung, y/n.” Chan is standing at the door, wearing grey sweats and loose t-shirt, but you can’t help picturing him shirtless and thrusting into Jisung. Oh God. You steady yourself.

“Hey babe!” Jisung skips over to him and plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

Chan ushers you both over to the couch where he and Jisung sit across from you and you sit there nervously playing with the fabric of your shorts. You feel like you're about to be scolded by two parents.

“So y/n. I suppose we owe you an explanation?” begins Chan.

You shake your head. “Not really - ”

“We do. You see Jisung and I…” Chan pauses. “We're together. In a relationship. Boyfriends.” He continues matter of fact. Jisung squeezes Chan’s thigh and smiles at him. Jisung is so fucking in love, you can see it on his face. Why hadn’t you noticed this sooner?

“Okay.” you nod.

“Only the band members know.” adds Jisung, and you catch his smile falter ever so slightly.

“Well, that’s wonderful that you are both together. And I am glad that you are okay with me knowing.” You're genuinely happy for them.

Chan’s expression turns serious, pained even. “We also need to know if you have any concerns about yesterday? If we need to do anything...Fix anything?”

You can’t stop thinking about yesterday. You couldn’t stop thinking about it last night when you were alone in your bed. Jisung had certainly succeeded in his mission, and now you really can’t get him out of your head.

“Yesterday was great. I thought we all had a good time? Didn’t we?” You're really worried that they regret it.

“Oh y/n, we did! Didn’t we Chan? Y/n you were so- ” Chan raises his hand to cut Jisung off. “Jisung, calm yourself or you are gonna get yourself horny again, and I don’t have the energy.”

Jisung’s phone beeps. “Shit, it’s Binnie. I’ve got a training session with him. Leg day.” He gets up to leave and Chan gives him a love tap on the way past.

“Hey! Don’t touch my butt!” he cries, “Unless you’re going to fuck me!” he adds as he bounds out of the room. Chan smirks and you hide a giggle.

It’s just you and Chan now. The room is silent.

“So," Chan scratches his head and grins nervously. “You want to talk about this blindfold fantasy?”

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

Later… (a/n: some of you may recognise the following scenario as a standalone oneshot, but this where I wrote it originally. I apologise in advance if that makes this installment underwhelming. the chapter ends a little differently to the oneshot too.)

You walk down the dimly lit hallway towards one of the unused bedrooms. You've decided this scenario will take place in a space that no one is using, to really maximize the mysteriousness of it.

Butterflies are going absolutely crazy in your stomach, and you tug your satin robe tighter around you trying to settle them down. You feel very sexy and feminine wearing nothing but the robe. The cream floral print against a gold background makes you feel like a queen.

You approach the designated door and knock.

“Come in.” Chan calls from within the room.

You swallow hard and push open the door.

You're immediately taken aback. The room is stunning. The décor is dark and moody, with the walls painted a dark grey blue, and the furniture looks as though it’s antique. Paintings of abstract naked women are hung around the room.

There are various stained-glass lamps, emanating a seductive glow, and there is music playing low in the background. It sounds like French music. A woman’s voice seductively fills the room.

Then there’s the bed. Huge, King sized, so plush and high set. Chan is laying propped up against the dark timber headboard, he almost looks lost leaning amongst the generous number of over sized plush pillows. He’s wearing black tracksuit pants and a muscle tee. It looks out of place in such a sensually styled room.

“What do you think?” Chan gestures around the room.

“Th-this,” you stammer. “It’s amazing Chan.” You move towards the bed, stretching out your hand to touch the dark green quilt. It’s luxurious on your fingertips. You run your hand along the fabric as you move closer to the head of the bed. Someone’s going to fuck you on this.

You perch on the side of the bed facing away from Chan. Your feet barely reach the floor, and you notice the black blindfold laid out neatly on the bedside table. Next to it is a bottle of coconut oil.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” Chan reaches out to touch your hand that’s resting beside you on the bed.

You inhale deeply and then slowly release your breath. How are you feeling?  It’s a mixture of feelings really. You're so very nervous. That, you already know. But, you're also… excited. The idea of what’s about to happen is truly thrilling to you. You hope Chan doesn’t think you're too much. You don’t want him to judge you.

You turn to him. “You don’t think badly of me do you?” you ask him.

He looks surprised and squeezes your hand. “Of course I don’t think badly of you, babygirl.” He gazes deep into your eyes. “I just want to make you happy, and to feel good.” He sits up. “Y/n. I was worried you think badly of me! I was worried I might’ve pushed into something you didn’t really want to do.”

You shake your head profusely. “No! I loved yesterday.” you assure him. You sigh. “You seem so confident, and sure of things… you’ve got yourself sexually figured out and not ashamed of it. I feel like I don’t know anything about myself. I never imagine in a million years I would be living out a fantasy like this…I would normally be too ashamed to ever voice such a desire.” You say shrilly.

He laughs and goes quiet. “Well Jisung thinks I’m ashamed, ashamed of him, and that’s why we haven’t come out.” He sighs, a pained look in his eyes, “But it’s not that at all. I’m not ashamed of him… it’s just the world isn’t a very accepting place. I don’t want Jisung to get hurt.”

You reach up and cup his face. “This is why I love you. You are just too caring. We all love you for it.”

Chan smiles and then his focus switches like a light switch. “We gotta get you ready!” He practically jumps off the bed and moves around to the side of the bed you're sitting on. He takes your hand and you slide off the bed.

You'd already discussed the details of how you were going to do this, covering safe words and safe gestures, what positions you are going to be in, and these had been relayed to whoever was going to be participating.

You stand in front of Chan facing away from him. There is tension in the air. Your breath feels wobbly. He steps closer to you and you can feel his breath on your neck and a pang in your chest. You really wish he’d kiss you. He slowly reaches around, careful not to touch you too much, Why doesn’t he want to touch you? and pulls at your robe’s tie belt.

It comes loose easily and allows your robe to fall open. Chan delicately pulls it off your shoulders letting it drop to the floor. You were now standing completely naked in front of Chan, and only Chan.

He had seen you naked only just a day ago, but that was in the throws of lust. It wasn’t planned. This feels more intimate and you're feeling self conscious. He hasn’t been this close to your naked body. Goosebumps form on your skin. It isn’t cold in the room, Chan had thought of that too and had made the room a comfortable temperature. He’s so fucking considerate. You smile to yourself.

You close your eyes in a bid to compose yourself. Fuck. You're really doing this.

Chan takes your hand again and grabs the blindfold in the other. He steadies you as you climb onto the bed where he resumes the position of laying down but propped up against a pillow and headboard. He directs you to sit between his legs facing away from him, and carefully places the blindfold over your eyes and securing it at the back of your head. Your senses immediately heighten. This feels so erotic.

“Lean back on me.” He whispers as he guides you to lean back onto his fully clothed body. You can feel his hard, toned muscles flexing underneath you, and his breathing is strained. Is he nervous? You can feel an erection beginning to dig into your back. Is this turning him on?

You imagine what this must look like, your exposed, naked body with Chan’s strong legs on either side of yours. You don’t know what to do with your hands so you rest them on your stomach. You don’t know where Chan’s arms and hands are, only that they aren’t touching you. You wish he’d wraps his arms around you. You wish he’d caress your body.

For a moment you try to imagine what it would be like if he did touch you. The sensation of him squeezing your breasts, pinching a nipple, sliding his hands over your body. Then you remember why you're here. For a mystery fuck. A small moan escapes you. Did he hear you?

Chan nuzzles his face into your neck, resting his chin on your left shoulder. It’s the closest he’s been to you. “You already imagining a stranger inside you, hmm?” he whispers. You whimper. His voice turns you on beyond belief.

You don’t have chance to answer because there is a knock on the door. You suck in a breath. This is actually happening.

“Come in.” Chan calls out. You hear the door creak open and then close.

“Are you ready to begin?” Chan whispers in your ear.

“Mmm hmm, yes.” you reply.

“Good, because I think you are going to really enjoy this.”

He takes hold of your hands and places them on the bed either side of your body, using his hands to hold them down out of the way so you can’t go ahead and touch your anonymous lover. You had requested this. It makes you feel like you're being forcefully held in place, although you know you can change things if you want.

You feel the mattress dip slightly. Someone is climbing onto the bed near your feet. Who can it be? Is it Changbin? Or could it be Minho? Felix? Could it be Jisung?

A hand touches your ankle. You shudder, then very slowly and delicately it makes it way up to the side of your knee. Their touch is light and feathery. You swallow.

Then you feel a mouth, a moist, plush mouth just above your knee. You think he is about to take the kisses up your leg, but instead takes his kisses back down, making his way down to your ankle. It feels so sensual. Who do these lips belong to?

Chan releases your arms for just a moment so he can lift your legs over each of his legs, which are spread out wide on the bed. Then he goes back to gently pinning your hands to the mattress.

You sense the other man moving closer and a mouth reappears on your skin. This time it’s your inner right thigh. He drags his tongue from inside your leg near your knee all the way up your inner thigh, sending tingles through your body, but he stops before he gets anywhere near your pussy. He does this again, and then mirrors the action with your other leg.

His hands try to push your legs a little wider and Chan assists by moving his own legs wider, forcing your legs to part just a little more. You are ready, wide open for whatever you're about to receive.

The touching stops, but you can feel him kneeling in front of you. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly in anticipation.

You're pleasantly startled when you feel a warm liquid landing on your breasts. The oil, Chan must have warmed it up somehow in preparation. You moan at the sensation of the oil dripping down around and between your breasts. You suck a breath in a sharp breath when you feel a pair of hands cupping your breasts, then squeezing and massaging the flesh in slow, but firm circles.

His hands slide easily over your oiled skin, and you squeal slightly when he squeezes your nipples. You imagine Changbin before you and that it’s his hands pinching your nipples. But you don’t believe it’s actually him. Changbin is a guitarist, with callused fingers. These hands a soft and smooth. That leaves Jisung, Minho and Felix.

As the pinches and flicks become more aggressive you can’t help but arch your back and rock your hips at the sensation.

Chan shushes you. “We need to stay still and take it, remember what we agreed to?” That’s right, part of this was you needed to stay as still as possible, it was all part of being restrained. You compose yourself and stop moving. It’s so difficult but you're determined to play the part properly.

“Good girl.” Chan growls low. Good girl? You love those words.

More warm oil is applied to your stomach. There is so much that it coats your entire abdomen and runs down towards your pussy, and trickles down between your folds. You feel bad for the bedding, it’s probably going to be a mess.

It feels so fucking sexy with your body being this slick and slippery. You feel like a goddess being cherished and adored, yet at the same time you feel like a dirty whore who doesn’t care who fucks her.

You wait for the hands to return to your body, anticipating them all over your stomach and you moan and pant with the need to be touched now. You are so desperate and on the verge of begging.

“Pl-please… please touch me.” you say.

“He wants you to call him ‘Sir’." Chan whispers.

“Please touch me again… Sir.” you pant.

You release a long low moan as he pours the oil at the top of your pussy now. It runs down through your lips and onto your asshole. You wriggle with pleasure and frustration. Chan squeezes your hand, a reminder that you need to stay still. You don’t know where his hands will land next and the anticipation is pure agony.

The stranger lifts your legs up bending them so your knees are up near your chest. Chan releases one of my hands to grip under your knee to help pin it against your chest, whilst the other man pins your other leg.

The heel of a hand presses firmly against your clit and begins to move in circular motions, much like they did with your breasts. It provides a grinding sensation that shoots pleasure deep inside of your core.

“Fuck that feels so good… Sir.” you whimper as his hand swirls and presses on you for what feels like and eternity.

He then drags two fingers beginning at your clit all the way down to your ass, dragging the oil and your own slickness all the way down. Your pussy clenches as his fingers pass by your entrance, not stopping to explore.

He presses a finger to your asshole.

“Aaaah!!” you gasp at the sensation of the pressure.

He massages his finger against your rim, and you know you're going to open up easily for him. You're so aroused and so slick from the oil that it doesn’t take much for the tip of his finger to breech the entrance. You grip the sheets with your hands as his finger slips in slowly. Deeper, deeper, all the way in.

“You’re being so good for him.” Chan’s words of praise in your ear make your melt around the stranger’s finger and it isn't long until you're ready for more.

“Sir… please.. I need… can you put in another finger?”

He slowly removes his finger and you feel two fingers at your hole now. He pushes them in, going ever so slowly. It’s a stretch but he’s moving slowly enough that you're adjusting along the way, making the stretch feel achingly good. He must be experienced at this sort of thing. He knows exactly what to do.

You reach up and wrap an arm around Chan’s neck. He whispers words of encouragement in your ear.

The volume of your moans and whimpers grow so loud now that it’s drowning out the sound of the French woman’s singing. The man moves his fingers in and and out of your ass maintaining a relentlessly slow pace. The burning sensation with every drag of his fingers makes your cry out in pleasure.

“Faster… harder… Sir I need… more.” you whimper.

He quickly builds up the pace. Chan brings his hand to your neck, wrapping it around your throat and squeezing slightly but not enough to cut off the air. Then he brings his thumb up to your lips. You open your mouth allowing him to slip his thumb inside. You pull at the hair on the back of his head and he pushes his thumb further into your mouth. The other man continues to fuck your ass with his fingers.

A mouth lands on your pussy. His tongue swirls around and through your lips. The tip of his tongue slides inside of you. Chan starts to fuck your mouth with his thumb, pushing it deep inside roughly. You want him to ruin you.

You're practically screaming from the glorious agony, your senses are on overload.

Chan removes his thumb. “Is this okay?” he checks in with you.

“Yes… But… I want his cock now.” you pout.

“Ahhh yes, I bet you do. Let’s sort you out huh?”

The fingers inside your ass are removed and you feel the man shift his position.

His thighs press against the underside of yours. Then…you feel the tip of a cock. He pushes it against your entrance. You make a pathetic whiny sound. Your body is begging for him to push his cock in.

Moments pass and nothing happens. What is happening? A sense of panic makes it’s way into your body. Has he changed his mind?

Another moment passes.

“He wants to know if we can take the blindfold off?” Chan asks.

You pause. He hasn’t changed his mind. You quickly try to decide what to do. Whoever it is wants you to be right there with him, making this moment together. Not him fucking fucking, but you fucking each other.

“Okay.” you say shakily. Your breath quickens at the thought of coming face to face with the man who has been pleasuring you so amazingly.

Chan takes over holding both your legs up, and two hands come to rest on the sides of your blindfold, the tip of his cock slips into you slightly as he leans in towards you, giving you a tease of what’s to come. You can’t wait until he is all the way inside.

Your blindfold slides off but your vision is blurry. You blink to adjust your eyes and the man before you becomes clear.

Minho.

He is looking at you expectantly, nervously, like you might run away at the sight of him.

You reach up and cup his face. His cheeks are flushed and lips pink and swollen. He isn’t even being the one fucked right now but he looks like he is.

“Hey.” you say with a dazed smile.

“Hey.” He replies. “Is this okay…do you want to keep…”

You wrap an arm around his waist and pull him down on top of you. His hands reach around to your ass, lifting your hips up and pushes himself all the way inside of you.

Minho is finally free to make noises now and he makes long low moans as he rocks his hips into you. He looks down between the two of you to watch his cock glide in and out.

You still have one arm wrapped around Chan’s neck, your other explores Minho’s body. His toned body undulates like some sort of exotic python. He’s even more skilled with his cock than with those magic fingers. He brings his mouth down onto yours mirroring his tongue with his thrusts. He is such a skilled, diligent lover.

You melt together as his long, languid thrusts become deeper and you are being pressed against Chan’s hard cock.

Without warning, Minho pulls out of you and flips you over in one fluid move so you're on all fours.

You look down and see Chan’s hard erection inside his sweats.

You're about to reach for it when you're dragged away further down the bed by Minho. You look into Chan’s eyes longingly as you're being pulled out of reach while he just stares back at you. You want to please him so badly.

Minho pushes his cock back inside you, causing you to cry out. Pleasure washes over you, mixing with the angst of yearning for Chan.

He slides his thumb over your asshole and presses it inside. “Ahhh.. Yes, Minho.” you cry.

He pushes it in all the way and rests his palm and fingers on your tail bone. His grip is perfect to rock you on an off his cock. You love feeling so filled up, and you're about to come any minute.

Chan looks fucked out, like he’s on another planet. His engorged, swollen red cock is now out of his pants and in his hand but he’s not doing anything with it. He’s just holding it absentmindedly. His eyes are glazed over as he stares at you.

Minho must notice him too. “Kitten?” he asks. “Do you want to help Chan out? Make him come?”

Oh fuck yes! You look at Chan eagerly. You're practically salivating.

“Come over here Chan. It’s okay.” Minho encourages Chan over, but doesn’t move.

“Before I come.” He adds hoping that will spur him on.

Chan, as if possessed, gets up onto his knees and crawls his way towards you. Once he is close enough he offers you the head of his cock. You eagerly take hold of it with one hand and guide him into your mouth. Chan whimpers at your touch. You lick your tongue along his shaft and over the tip before taking him deep into your mouth.

“Oh fuck!” Chan whines high pitched.

“Y/n, don’t use your hands. Make him work for it.” Minho growls as he fucks you from behind.

You do as you're told and release your grip but keeping him in your warm, wet mouth.

Something in Chan snaps. He grabs the back of your head and starts plunging his cock into your mouth relentlessly. He tangles his fingers in your hair as he fucks your face without restraint. You gag. It’s hard to take him and your eyes water.

You look up at him to find him staring at you while he fucks your face. Having Chan using you like this while Minho pounds you from behind and fingering your ass is all to much. You cry out around Chan’s cock as your legs shake and your cunt clenches around Minho. Your arms and legs buckle underneath you, but Minho is there to hold you steady. He wraps and arm underneath you, keeping you in position. He pulls out of you painting your back in his cum.

Chan growls and moans, and pulls his cock out to massage his release into your waiting mouth and tongue. There is so much. He leans back onto his heels, shaking as he watches you swallow every drop. He looks horrified and startled. Oh shit, have you done something wrong?

Chan quickly gets off the bed and pulls up his sweats. “Fuck y/n. I'm so sorry.” He says flustered.

“I’ll get the towels.” Minho announces and hops off the bed.

“Chan?” you whimper. He doesn’t seem to hear you. You can tell he's freaking out. “Chan!” you repeat, “I need you to hold me.”

Chan looks down at you, as though he is scared. What's going through his mind? Cautiously, he edges closer to the bed and sits beside you. You're still in an all fours position waiting to have your back wiped, but you kneel up to let Chan wrap his arms around you. You nuzzle into his chest. Why is he so upset with you?

You feel him relax against you and he strokes your hair. “I shouldn’t have done that to you.” He whispers over and over. You don’t understand. You fucking loved that he did that to you.

Minho returns to wipe you down and to remove the excess coconut oil that had made its way to the strangest places.

Suddenly, Chan gets up and turns down the bed, gesturing for you to hop in. Then he goes around the other side and offers that side to Minho.

You and Minho look at each other. This seems like really odd behaviour, but you oblige and both get into bed as directed, even though this wasn’t part of the arrangement. You don’t say a word as you watch Chan slip his shirt back on and leave the room.

Next Chapter: you role play with Minho and learn more about the man on his mind.

taglist: open

@rylea08 @channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @rixenluv @piscesrising01 @lunearta @shltsnglggles @lilbabiebunni @jiminssluttyminx @armystay89 @krayzieestay

#skz smut #chan smut #chan x reader #han jisung smut #lee know smut #lee know x reader

[hello-from-the-night-archives]

hello from the hallowoods dashboard simulator

😈 valerie-meme-stone

I'm not ready for my spotify wrapped to just be stonemaiden. like i get it spotify i know i'm gay

53 notes

📝 the-poetry-panopticon Follow

Unfriendly reminder not to sign up for a Dreaming Box subscription! The Botulus Corporation is not to be trusted! Here's an article explaining the language in their contract and why it's concerning! In addtion, they use AI generated images in the Prime Dream, which we should all know by now is unethical.

14,034 notes

🥗 bisexualranchdressing Follow

dang this is crazy. i thought wildfire smoke was bad but what the fuck is this????

🌅 nerdy-tragedy-theorist Follow

well according to color theory

🌅 nerdy-tragedy-theorist Follow

never mind i've got nothing

739 notes

⚡ evil-electrician Follow

friendly reminder to stop spreading misinformation about the black water! people are saying that it brings people and animals back to life but that's not exactly true! although their body may be back, they're not the same person and they will likely become violent and dangerous. please stay inside and be really careful what you and your pets eat or drink.

🐈‍⬛ cats-not-capitalism Follow

fuck you op i'm keeping my undead cat

⚡ evil-electrician Follow

good luck keeping your fingers

48,230 notes

🐧 morally-grey-penguin Follow

1,383,248 notes

eccentricelina-deactivated04232030

i must not go to sleep in the lake today. afternoon nap is the mind killer

eccentricelina-deactivated04232030

mmmmmm cozy

eccentricelina-deactivated04232030

where is my skin

eccentricelina-deactivated04232030

going back to sleep honk shoooooo

635 notes

🌮 mysteriously-crafty-nacho Follow

reblog this post to go north with the person you reblogged this from

54,092 notes

🧊 botulus-corporation Follow

The Botulus Corporation is with you during this difficult time. Join our happy dreaming family where you and your loved ones will be safe from the rain. Tumblr users get 30% off on a Dreaming Box subscription!

🐨 chief-koala-typhoon Follow

73,932 notes

🌿 shiny-wolf-tragedy Follow

it fucken rainny

🐼 dreamland-panda Follow

love that they'll be a literal apocalyse and tumblr users will just make memes. never change tumblr

72,138 notes

👁️‍🗨️ the-magnus-brotocol

choosing between the irl amazing digital circus or probably fucking dying was not on my 2030 bingo card but okay

👁️‍🗨️ the-magnus-brotocol

at this point i just gotta expect that if the year is divisible by 10 then something terrible will happen

94 notes

🐺 werewolves-are-hot

hey do you think i can get a real werewolf boyfriend now that monsters are real

🐺 werewolves-are-hot

any cute werewolf boyfriends in this part of the woods

429 notes

🌷 pleasant-arcade-land

oh man it's been a couple months since I last updated this fanfic huh! so I just drank some black water by accident and now I have a few extra fingers, and honestly that took some getting used to, but it's actually pretty convenient now and is really helpign me get more words in lol im still here writing homestuck fanfic in 2030 hehehehehe anyway new chapter here

38 notes

🌑 the-void-whispers Follow

so, it looks like tumblr might be dying soon due to, well, *gestures wildly.* You'll have to kill me before I join Twitter now that the Botulus Corporation bought it (and no, I am not calling it B, that is just stupid) so if you want to hear from me you will simply need to look out for passenger pigeons. in the meantime, ill be here until tumblr straight up dies and i have a crying session about it

🦌 gamer-guy-bath-water Follow

we do not grieve ice when it melts, or celebrate the sapling when it rises from the soil. they just are. life and death and rebirth are one constant state. and without change, there would be nothing to watch

⚔️ sword-lesbian-enthusiast

add that to the list of banger quotes from tumblr memes

82,362 notes

#my post #hfth #hfthw #hello from the hallowoods #unreality #fake post #hfth spoilers