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bitchlessdino · 2 years

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and they were roommates pt.2

A svt.hub collab

Pairing: camboy!chan x afab roommate!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 2.2k

tags: pet name (kitten), oral, 34 +35, dirty talk, mentions of sex tape

Summary: Wanting sex is a natural feeling, it just so happens that gratification could be found in the next room with a shitty webcam and an infectious laugh.

author note: thank you @chogiwapadada for helping me proofread this thing and thank you guys for the endless support. the fact that this was on the top page for the seventeen tag is insane and y'all made such a big deal of this and therefore i thank you guys so much. but josh if you see this, no you don't go away, please. i am always constantly overwhelmed by the support and hopefully you guys enjoy this one too!

tag list: @sapphichui @librarian-stacks @dontflailmenow @gyuldaengie @minniemole @greysdarling @romromthedeer @yoondae @dinosbestie

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

You may be wondering, what happened that night when Chan fapped to the thought of you in front of a live audience, not forgetting to invite you when he’s made a mess of himself. Did you really take up his offer, stormed out of your room, and had the most mind-blowing sex with your roommate you ever had?

Of course, you fucking didn’t, are you kidding?

What you actually did was finish off independently in your own rooms and did not speak another word to each other for the rest of the night.

You were awkward roommates at the end of the day and who knows what kind of shit would happen if you decided to pursue these escapades any further. No matter how hot and incredible Chan/Dino looked naked, there was no way you’d potentially ruin your convenient living agreements with your roommate who obviously makes enough money for the both of you (a lot of thanks to you I guess). So, what was the tactical decision after learning your roommate is a popular and successful sex worker?

Act as if nothing happened. What live show? What’s Dino? What even is Svthub? You don’t masturbate, that’s icky.

Yeah, you’re having a hard time believing that too. But what else were you supposed to do?

You could hardly look Chan in the eye the next day. Fortunately, he paid you almost no mind being that it was his weekend too. However, last night’s show was not as easily forgettable for you as it was for him. You could still picture the momentum and force that took hold of his body that managed to power his personal gratification, killing every functional cell of your entire being. His smile was already so pretty on a normal basis but how it twists desperately when he gets closer and closer, and his whines get louder and bolder, you could just cum then and there.

It fucking drove you insane he was just sitting there on the couch, laughing at cartoons as if nothing happened. It, in fact, confused you, even more, making you consider whether last night was even a dream because of how contradicting Chan and Dino really were, but it’s him. That laugh is his, that smile is his, that body is his, and that semi-hard cock poking at his gray sweatpants was definitely his. How were you so stupid that you didn’t notice sooner?

You press your lips in a firm line when you notice him turn his head at you, urging you to swallow the built up drool in your mouth.

“You wanna go grocery shopping today,” he asks, “I think I remember there was a sale for something I’ve been needing for a while.”

Like he needs to participate in any sales from the income he grew overnight.

“We went shopping last week,” you pointed out.

He nods agreeingly, “yeah, but I think we can afford it. I kinda got a huge bonus.”

Yeah, because Chan’s horny roommate couldn’t control themselves.

“Sure. Just let me get my bag.”

He claps his hands in rejoice and waits for you on the couch. When you’re both ready, Chan grabs the house keys and you’re the first one to head to the front door. Turning the knob, you swing the door open and at your feet was a package labeled to your roommate. You curiously pick it up from the ground, “Hey, Chan—”

“Uh, that’s mine,” he snatches it, nervously chuckling, sticking it in a vacant spot on your shared bookshelf.

You narrow your eyes at him as he pushes you out of the apartment and locks the door behind you both. “What was that?”

He shakes his head dismissively, flicking his hand in feigning lack of care. “Just treated myself. Got here earlier than I expected.”

Next day shipping, hmm?

You don’t question it and let Chan lead the way to the local market to grab whatever was missing from your pantry. You push the cart as Chan fills its insides gleefully, walking around like a kid in a toy store. The scene before made you almost forget the persona that clouded your mind, especially as he grows indecisive picking between chips options. You felt a little normal about your situation again.

It was then you found smth you had been looking for. A sugar free coffee syrup collection that you’ve been dying to try and has been sold out for months; it was finally available. The problem was the shelf it was on. Higher than you admit you could reach. You stretch your toes out towards the box, desperately holding on to the whimsical domestic fantasy of flavored coffee, not even getting close to touching the box.

You then feel a presence behind you, his chest grazing your back just enough to feel the noticeable progress he’s made at the gym, and a blackberry scent that hits your nose so delightfully. You didn’t fight the urge to turn around, and you faced Chan as easily hid your body from plain sight, grabbing what you meant to retrieve.

Blinking back cautiously towards him, you see the glimpse of his alluring presence from last nice, but instead you see the full picture. He looks back at you with a taunt, his eyes weighing down to give you a playful condescending grin. In your head, you imagined him teasing you like he would his audience, calling you his little toy or kitten, but instead he says, “Here you go, little one.”

You scoff, snatching the box away from him. “I could have easily gotten it myself.”

He doesn’t move from his stance and instead rests a hand on a shelf mere centimeters from your head. He narrows bedroom eyes down at you and a smile on his face that makes thousands of people climax simultaneously. Your breath hitches as he shifts his stance, where you tighten your grip on the collection box in reassurance.

“I’m sure you think that.” He responds slyly.

You huff in disbelief, pushing past him and towards the cart, grumbling to yourself something about an annoying loser. Chan, within earshot, chuckles to himself, following behind you. Hands besides either of yours on the cart handle, he walks behind you with your back to his chest, essentially embracing you.

You feel the pitter patter of your heart as he whispers in your ear, “anything else I grab from high shelves for ya?”

You roll your eyes and elbow him instinctively, the man holds his gut, absorbing the blow of his consequences. “Please, you’re 5’7. How much help can you actually be?”

“5’8 actually! And I'm a great help!”

When you get back to your apartment, you share the abundance of grocery bags with Chan. You unlock the front door and close it behind both you and Chan. Your gaze lingers at the package left on the book shelf as you pack away the food.

“Not to pry, but what is that package anyway?”

He waves his hands dismissively, “not much, just something I’ve been wanting.”

A fleshlight? A cock ring? Or maybe, a silicone torso?

“Really, you sure seem indifferent for something you’ve been wanting,” you pointed out.

“And you’re really nosy for someone that didn’t want to pry.” He shuts the cabinet, annoyance emitting from his tone.

You feel awful about pestering him but the curiosity was killing you. You continue to light heartedly bring it up every little chance you get. To which, your roommate tries to change the subject or ignore you completely in hopes you forget. Unfortunately for him, you had no off switch.

“Ok, fine, y/n. You really want to know?”

You slightly falter. “…Sure.”

Chan takes out the keys out of his pockets and uses it to shred the box. He flips the box, one cardboard flap at a time, and reveals the excessive packing. He pulls it apart teasingly slow, offering you a slight glare, and your eyes finally land on what was inside. You peer at it confused, pursing your lips before announcing out loud, almost to come to terms with what’s inside.

“A dinosaur onesie?”

“Yeah. Are you happy? You excited yourself for one comfy piece of sleepwear,” he shrugs, underlyingly relieved.

You shake your head, “you spent your bonus on a onesie?”

“What I do in my down time is my business.”

He storms off with his new favorite form of comfort and closes his bedroom door behind him. Your body boiled over with shame, thinking to yourself how selfish and invasive you were being. What, you think because your roommate masturbates to the thought of you once during a web show means you could get in his face?

You facepalm yourself and reluctantly approach his door, a limp knock resonating off the cheap wood. “Chan, I'm sorry. I don’t know why I’m being like this, but that’s no excuse.”

Silence lingers.

“Look it’s not lame to have a onesie okay, I just thought there might be something else in that box? I don’t know, but don’t be mad at me…”

You’re basically talking to a brick wall, or in your case, a wooden door.

“I won’t bother you anymore, okay. I understand there’s some lines that were drawn and I breached one of them…Whenever you want to talk again, let me know. It’s my turn to make dinner anyway. I have to have your input if you’ll complain again.”

You unlatch yourself from the door frame and timidly walk off to your room. Hai door creaks open behind you and your head to see Chan’s head peek out. A guilty expression all over his face and a dry tongue, hesitant to bare out his thoughts. “I did something…bad. Weird even.”

Hesitation is apparent in your response, wondering if he was finally going to admit that secret of his. “okay.”

“I’m not trying to be closed off—”

“You’re not,” you interrupt, “I’m just being annoying.”

“No. No…Well—okay, a little, but maybe I feel that was because of what I did.”

“What did you do, Chan?”

“Don’t make me say it,” he whines.

“It’s okay, you can say it out loud,” you reassure him, “I will not judge.”

“I…may have a little bit too much of your body wash.”

“…huh?”

He steps out from the door. “I know how that kind of stuff does without saying, but it just smells so nice. But luckily I did grab some when we’re out, and you didn't notice, so I couldn’t handle the guilt any longer. So projected on you, got angry with you. I’m sorry.”

You blink back at him, unsure of how to respond. This certainly wasn’t something you expected to come out of your mouth and you wonder why he thought it’d be something to ponder over with your feelings in mind. “How cheap do you think I am?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that I think that I just…thought you should know the truth.”

“It’s fine, Chan. God, I thought you were going to talk about something serious. Is that all?” You egg on.

“…yeah.” He goes behind the door and isolates himself in his room.

You couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit bothered that it was all he had to say to you. Was he really that unaffected by what happened?

You let out a huff of frustration. You couldn’t take it anymore. You had to masturbate to some random hot guy on the internet. That bad guy had to be Chan. And Chan had to masturbate to you, with you, in front of thousands of other horny people to see. However, did he seem to care? Seems unlikely.

Your fist slams his door repeatedly, desiring the closure that should stop eating you up from inside, demanding him to “admit it” and while internally feeling embarrassed that you dropped the ball so quickly. You were a horny mess.

“You have more to explain to me Lee Chan!”

That goes on for a good minute until the door swings open and the man inside pulls you by the wrist disrupting his peace. You press against him, chest to chest, his eyes narrowing at you in frustration, while you look at him like a child about to receive punishment.

“Instead of waiting for me to say something, why don’t you just ask?” He suggests with a sinister tone under his breath.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, your legs grow weak from his tense presence, and you no longer have the urge to speak. Chan’s hand places on the side of your hip, pulls you up from slipping to the floor, and his expression softens. “Are you that bothered by my job?”

Your eyes fluttered rapidly in anticipation “Y-you knew?”

“It took some thinking,” he chuckles and stops to stabilize you back on the ground, keeping his distance, “are you grossed out by me?”

You became still as a lamp post, jumping between the thought of denying everything or putting it all out in the open. He was into you, you were definitely into him, there shouldn’t be a problem.

“I found you by accident. I didn’t mean to invade a private space of yours…When I found out, it was too late at that point.”

“I see. I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable,” he scratches the back of his head with an uncomfortable grin, “I figured I’d be caught sooner or later. Just didn’t think I’d be so soon.”

“Look, you have a job you enjoy. I’m not going to take that away from you, Chan. It honestly doesn’t bother me. It probably pays more than that receptionist gig.”

“Right…So, how much have you seen?”

You sigh, approaching the cushion of his bed and making yourself home on the sheets. “More than I like to admit, especially to the star. Ha ha.”

Chan snickers, finally relaxing to see how aloof you become, and takes the spot next to you in bed. “I have time.”

You explain to him that in the past few days you’ve been in a sexual rut: not wanting do go out and meet other people, not wanting to go on apps, not wanting to make an effort, but still desperately craved sexual attention. That’s when you found Dino. Dino was alluring to you in a way that made you feel comfortable, yet wanted. Dino had a cheesy way with words, but nonetheless, he had a way with them. He feels inclusive and intimate, making you feel immersed in every recording posted on his site. He was talented in ways you could imagine with the last sexual partners you have and gave you the ultimate goal in the end every single time.

“I’m so flattered…and kinda exposed.”

You laugh quietly to yourself and pat him on the back. “You’re really good at it. I was impressed to say the least.”

“I’m assuming you caught last night's show too?”

Your cheeks began to pink. “Uh, yeah, that show.”

“I just want to say I don’t normally do that. It was a one time thing and I just…I got caught up. I’m sorry.”

“D-don’t be, I was really surprised, but pleasantly,” you let out a nervous chuckle, “but I really didn’t think I had that effect on you.”

“Maybe just a little,” he admits with a shy smile, “And I even invited you. It’s stupid. If I knew you were watching—”

“I didn’t come over because it was a live show, not because I didn’t want to…do that with you.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Chan fiddles with his fingers before resting it close to yours, your pinkies making skin contact. “So, you wanted to?”

You shrug, having a hard time meeting his eyes as you glowed like a fresh tomato. “I don’t know, maybe, kind of…I didn’t want to start something that could ruin what we have, you know?”

“Right,” he nods, “I get that. The last thing us roommates need is a complicated situation.”

“Exactly. It felt only right to not do anything.”

Chan piques in wonder, readjusting himself in the mattress to lean forward in your direction. “Is it though?”

You scoff, glancing at him briefly. “Of course it is…isn’t it?”

His gaze drifts off towards your lips, flickering back to your eyes. A smile that resembles a Cheshire cat forms on his face, effectively luring you without any words. If he did ever decide to show his face, his income would multiply by ten folds. There was no way someone would be able to ignore a face like that. His lips begin to part, and you follow the shapes they make until your brain processes them into words.

“Do you really think that way?”

You let out light gasp, also surprised by how similarly his tone shifts into Dino and once again you’re hypnotized by his mere presence, making you think he could make you do almost anything.

“Don’t you?”

He shakes his head confidently, a soft giggle escapes his lips. “You’re so cute.”

You clear your throat. “Am I?”

“Yeah,” his body turns completely to sit up parallel to you, “You don’t know how much I’m trying to control myself right now.”

“Then don’t,” you respond curtly, “I can handle myself.”

He nods. “I’ll take your word for it.”

His lips fit around yours in an instant. He moves with assertion. You were completely under his spell, unwaveringly in his possession. His hand moves to cup your face, his tongue finding easy entry after biting down on your bottom lips. The top of his nose tickles yours and you find yourself grasping his sides. Your legs pull up from the floor and anchor on his sheets. Chan’s free arm moves to take hold of your waist, forcing you chest to chest.

He parts from your lips reluctantly. He stares back at your half open eyes as if waiting for you to tell him to stop. When you’re the one to lean in and match his rhythm from moments before, he’s the one to give in to you. He melts into you until you’re one. You collapse underneath him and he strokes your hair so sweetly. How he kisses is between a starved man and a long time lover; comforting but exciting all at once.

His hand trails beneath your shirt, shivers running up your spine. You feel his smile against your lips as he hums to himself gleefully. “You’re so pretty underneath me, Kitten.”

“You figured that out too?” You laughed nervously.

“I had a feeling. Is that what you like being called? Kitten?”

You caught your lower lip between your teeth. “Not really, but I don’t mind it when you say it.

“Really,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, nuzzling his nose against yours, “that makes me happy to hear.”

His lips fall against your cheeks in peppery kisses then down your jaw, biting and sucking against the untouched skin until it glowed red and purple. His hand at the same time lands on your thigh, massaging your skin. Smoothly, his hands in a cupping shape drags two fingers over your clothed cunt, chuckling darkly into your skin as you gasp. “Fuck Chan.”

He pushes himself up and makes home underneath your pants, achingly closer to the arousal that soaked your underwear. A thin layer of it spreads on the pads on his fingers, pushing them in with the layer of underwear in between. Your abdomen tenses up, but that’s how you knew he did it right. At the same time, his hand traces your jaw before prying it open your lips with his fingers. You let them slip inside your mouth with ease, quick to close around his digits, to which Chan let them pump inside your mouth. He grips your jaw with the rest of his hand, emulating you being full in both ends.

“You like that? You like it when I put my fingers in your mouth?”

You bob your head to nod, feeling his fingers plunge harder into your core as a reward. You moan loudly around the fingers in your mouth, and feel him drag his crotch over your thigh, getting himself off. You are overwhelmed to say the least but not unsatisfied. “You look like you’d do anything I want, am I right about that kitten?”

You nod again, subtle squirming at the height of your excitement.

“Then why don’t you make yourself comfortable and sit on my face for me, hmm? And you can return the favor for me if you like.”

He pulls away from you to give you space. He undresses himself from his plain white tee down to his sweatpants and soon after you follow suit. You ogle at the appearance of his sweat glistening torso, able to trace every deep toned structure by memory, and then match the level of his cock, pointing plainly in your direction, almost screaming at you to touch it.

“Is kitten getting distracted? You need some help undressing?”

He chuckles at your speechless state and comes to your aid. He lifts your shirt from your body, his confidence faltering at your beautiful flushed skin underneath as he looks at you in amazement. His hand glides your slide, thumbing over your erect nipples to see then get harder he squeezed. Pulling away from the trance, he smiles before lowering down and pulling off your pants and underwear, unveiling a glistening beauty that was your cunt. He could feel his mouth watering already.

“I want to eat you out so bad,” he says breathlessly.

Your blood pumping at his words, making you pull Chan flat on the bed. He lays sprawled out with a smile, he beckons you with a simple gesture, and before you know it, you lower yourself over his mouth, tempted by the cock that stood tall in front of you. You feel him kiss along your inner thigh, mouthing at your folds, until that while his smile engorges on your entrance. His thumbs spread you apart and feel your heart flutter at his pace. He had yet to use his tongue but skills did all the talking. You grab hold of his strong, reliable thighs and flatten your body on his.

You hold his shaft for the first time and laugh nervously. “Wow, I’m seeing it in person.”

“I hope I can exceed your expectations,” he chuckles into your heat.

First you take in the shape with your eyes, pristine and perfect just like on screen, then your mouth. You fit half of it inside the best you could, all while drowning to the sound of Chan’s wet love making to your soaked pussy, and bob face down on his length. You lube him with your saliva, transparent ribbons stretching as you pull away. Your hand cups his balls, kneading them like dough, adjusting to his size all too naturally.

While Chan had a delicious time, he grew increasingly aware how better you were at this than he imagined. This only encourages him more, his arms loop around your legs, pulling your body toward him roughly. He flicks his tongue in sharp licks and occasionally switches to devouring its inside like a gourmet meal. His nose buried deep into you, rubbing against the bud of your clit, playful pants leaving his lips.

“Mmh, Chan. Like that please…” you plead.

His nails dig into the flesh of your ass, licking fats and harsh stripes before letting you close up around his tongue. He explores you like he would a venture, ambrosia on his taste buds. On the other hand, you feel the need to catch up. You swallowed his girth, pushing it in deeper, and grind up on Chan’s face. When you reach his base, his hips come to aid, thrusting into your mouth with no remorse. You stabilize yourself on his stomach and let him hit the back of your throat senselessly. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull, vibrating around him from your moans, tears start to swell up in your eyes.

Your muffled voice would echo from the walls, bouncing off every surface, before you came in his mouth, twitching enough that he forces you down on him. He drove you insane with what could do, driving you to pull your mouth off him to gasp for air, it all became too much, but not unwelcome. “P-please cum in my mouth, Chan. I want it so bad.”

Chan lets his mouth rest for a moment, takes the opportunity to take in oxygen and leaves you a last order before he dives back in. “Then put it back in your mouth for me, kitten.”

You do as you're told and force it down your throat, letting it hit far back in your uvula with your thrust until he pours inside you. Your eyes snap shut. You close the opening of your mouth to not let a single drop go to waste. Your cheeks inflate from lack of capacity and you're forced to swallow down what you’ve reined in. You fall to your side on the bed and Chan manages to pull himself up to lock eyes. A sweaty disheveled mess, Chan smiles in bliss seeing how fucked out you’ve become just for him. His fingers land on your lips and gently pull them apart to see your clean work. You stick your tongue plainly out in response, smiling just as bright as he was.

“Tired already?” He teases.

“Maybe, just...how do you do it? For hours on end too?”

“I just know what I’m doing, kitten. Don’t worry about the next round, I’ll do all the work,” he crawls on top of you, smoothing your frayed hair, “and while we’re at it, I can turn a camera on and we can have a little something to ourselves.”

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taylovelinus · 1 year

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saw this Refinery29 article titled “Is Therapy-Speak Ruining Our Relationships” and loved it because it has put into words a concept I have been unable to describe for years.

Everything now is so unnecessary clinical, this obsession to categorize and neatly label and file each and every thought and feeling and interaction and relationship we have… don’t you get exhausted, constantly pathologizing every behavior and assigning some sterile, inoffensive name to everything you do? do you do it to sound emotionally intelligent, so you are perceived better? or maybe it’s to give yourself plausible deniability and an inoffensive, easily explainable and rational out for your shitty, selfish behaviors? no matter what it’s just so fucking insane. the internet has sincerely rotted some people’s brains, especially the brains of gen z, to where every relationship and every interpersonal interaction is viewed through this clinical lens…

we’re not lab rats in some project, we’re human beings. our interactions are not always easily categorizable. no one is 100% good or 100% bad. and this cold, clinical terminology being applied to everyday relationships 1) takes all of the warmth and beautiful complexity and humanity out of other people and your relationships with them, and 2) waters down the real meanings of these terms to the point where they don’t mean anything anymore. Your friend telling a white lie and denying it isn’t the same thing as gaslighting, and you need to get a fucking grip. Your friend confiding in you about something really emotional for them isn’t them trauma dumping on you. like holy shit have you ever had friends? like actual friends? confiding in each other is called being friends, like just for the record. I don’t know what the fuck “holding space” means and also I don’t care literally at all because I’m normal. I am busy having normal, beautiful, messy, complicated relationships with friends and family and lovers and I am not trying to attach clinical labels to everything because those things don’t help. all they do is create barriers between you and other people and you prevent yourself from making real human connections with other people.

I’m really sorry you have to hear this from me, but if you want something real, you have to risk getting your feelings hurt sometimes. you have to be willing to risk being confused or angry or hurt or frustrated, but through the shit you can find genuine human connection. it’s out there and it’s worth having and life is so much better spent and more deeply enjoyed when you allow yourself to just be and to get close with others and stop thinking about them like robots or test subjects and assigning clinical labels to your every feeling and interaction with them. be so fucking for real.

#rant #therapy speak #relationships

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 9 months

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i neeeeeedddd another leo percy jason update ! i love them sooo much and no one writes about them as well as you :)))))

ANON!!! I ACTUALLY MANAGED TO WRITE SOMETHING?!?!?!?!?! please be proud of me it’s been so many months 😫 thank you for all your love and support !!! these asks have been in the back of my mind since you sent them…in June….I’m sorry I’m so sorry 😫 but we here now, and I may be offering you a mess but it’s a mess I managed to write which is one step further than I’ve gotten in the last few months😫 (btw thank you for all your sweet wonderful compliments anon they make me so happy always)

summary

Perseus can feel the weight of Godhood digging into his spine. Keeping him tied to a throne. Doing the bidding of those that pray to him. He is exhausted. He needs warmth, a soft place to land. A Soldier and a Prince who know just what to do with him…for him.

(girl? what is this summary? Percy goes slightly insane after using his power and the best way to bring him down is to have Jason and Leo get him naked and *dot dot dot* you know how it is )

beginning notes

ANDJCLWNDLSIDKLWISS HELLO?? I wrote something????

anyway um hi everyone I didn’t die I just was not able to write anything for like four months???? yes my writing demon and I have been looking at divorce papers :/ I’m working on couples therapy don’t worry

anywho I started this on the 20th of June? and finally finally got hit with enough inspo and time to finish it.

It’s honestly a mess and I didn’t even know where I was going with it, but when do I ever really know where im going with anything? (side note I am so so bad at directions. please don’t ever ask me to help you find your way if you’re lost)

okay im shutting up now.

I’ve made this work mature cause beyond some veiled handjob action it’s not really that explicit but I might change the label to explicit if I do a reread and feel it needs to be adjusted :)

you already know this is not edited. if you see a mistake, I’m blowing you a kiss MWAH!

title is from: “seven” by jungkook feat. latto

and you should totally listen to: “losing game” by genneo // “love you” by dxvn // “over and over” by rovv and jimmy brown // “love me again” by V (holy fuck I can say that now?!?! sorry I don’t know how to act with layover right around the corner. whatever I’m normal)

I love you! enjoy <3

veiled explicit content // mentions of and play with bodily fluids // canon typical violence

#to all the other writing asks still in my ask box I promise I will fulfil them😭😫I need more hours in a day #I’m sorrryyyy #but please enjoy this little offering!#I love you guys!!!#MWAH!!!!#valjercy #pjjg fanfic #percy jackson #jason grace #pjo #hoo #leo valdez

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imhereforscm · 11 months

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Have you read any books by J. R. R. TOLKIEN? If you have, can you please recommend something for a beginner? I want to read high fantasy novels which are hopeful ( meaning you feel peaceful and hopeful while reading them ). I am not very fond of G. R. R MARTIN's novels, they make me feel sad, everybody around me including my friends mock me because i don't like reading his novels. 😔 So i am truly lost and i don't know where to start. Please recommend some of you favorite books and authors as well. Thank you, i hope i didn't waste too much of your time and if you are Martin 's fan, i hope i didn't offend you by writing this.

Hello hello!🤗👋

Unfortunately, I'm not familiar with these authors, so I can't recommend you anything from them. I'm sorry!💖

But in general, I'd love to recommend books I enjoy!😊❤️❤️

Classic literature:

• Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë (it contains religious themes and God plays an important role in certain part of the plot. I think it's portrayed in a positive way in that case though. But of course, I won't tell you what to like! Also, it's quite fast paced, but still dives deep into emotions and chemistry. I think it can be labeled as a type of gothic.)

• Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen (if you like regency and enemies to lovers, you'll find this book pretty nice. This one has a much slower pace than Jane Eyre. "Romantic academia" aesthetic.)

• The Picture Of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde (gothic, portrays heavy themes, such as su! c! de and graphic mu rd e®, so beware if you're triggered by those things. It's basically a moral trip through the mindset of evil and insane, of course nothing to follow into your life as a positive role model. Philosophical.)

A book I think is great for healing and is my comfort book:

• The Midnight Library - Matt Haig (Deals with the theme of su! c! de, but I think it does it well and the lesson/meaning it passes through its pages is a every emotional and beautiful one. This book is great comfort for me actually and has helped me before, where life was less than kind. It talks about the weight of our existence and how it impacts everything and everyone, even if we don't realize it right now.)

Murder mysteries:

• Anything by Agatha Christie!! I seriously adore her and Poirot is so intriguing. What stands out me about her books compared to other murder mysteries I've read, is that it investigates the case by a psychological level. It doesn't just look at footprints, fingerprints and DNA. It unravels all the skein of human nature, its emotions and mental states.

High fantasy:

• Girl, Serpent, Thorn - Melissa Bashardoust (I've read high fantasy a couple of times before, but this one was the one I actually loved. It doesn't normalize death and murder, like a lot of high fantasy books I've come across and the characters are actually meaningful, having their own personalities, beliefs, fears and goals. Also, the protagonist is a bisexual icon and the book actually portrays healthy romance✨ Now, it has a gripping plot throughout the book and a lot of adrenaline, so idk if you're going to like it, since you told me you wanted something more calm and soothing.😅 But the internal development of the protagonist is so inspiring. How she learns to love herself and embrace who she is, whilst finding ways to use her abilities to their fullest potential.)

Also, liking something different from someone else is completely okay!! No one should ever make fun of you for your taste in things. You are a being as much entitled to their opinion as anyone else and you shouldn't suffocate your voice. You have every right to love the things you want to love and dislike the things you want to dislike (as long as you don't shame people who do like those things—I'm not saying you shame them, I'm talking in general to anyone reading this!💖).

And you didn't waste my time, sweetie! I enjoyed sharing my book recs with you.💖💖

#book recommendations

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haloshornsinkstains · 3 years

Text

3. The First Session

Written section

CW: Prison, mild violence, use of quirk supressing cuffs

Y/n frowned as she looked up at the prison entrance. It may have been done up a bit since she was last here but the place still held less than pleasant memories, for a moment she contemplated turning and walking away, dropping the job altogether. But a grinning head of green hair waving from the doorway soon put rest to those plans. Behind the other pro-hero Aizawa beckoned tiredly, holding up a cup of coffee. Sighing deeply she steeled herself and crossed the threshold, giving the two a strained smile. She couldn't give up before they had even started, not if these guys really wanted to change. They'd been dropped by so many already, if she turned her back without giving them a shot then she would be no better than the shitty society that abandoned them before. The exact thing she and the others had worked so hard to change. Reaching the pair she held out a hand expectantly, a hot cup of coffee pressed into her palm seconds later. Taking a sip she nodded her head towards the older man. "Thanks." "I was worried you wouldn't turn up." Izuku sounded relieved. "It, uh, well it wouldn't be the first time. I'm really grateful you're willing to do this for us… have you done this before?" She rolled her shoulders. "Well someone has to be willing to give them a chance. I usually deal in the welfare side, making sure reformed villains have places to go, jobs, you know the deal. Occasionally welfare within the system as well. I've only been a part of actual reforms in a few select cases. And never here." "Oh." Izuku frowned as he guided them inside, down gloomy corridors and towards the room where the league sat. "Well, I have their files here…" Y/n waved him off with a smile. "Don't need them. This is the room right?" "Yes but…" "Don't worry about it problem child, you'll see. Y/n we're just the other side of the mirror, we can hear everything so watch your language in front of the green bean." She flashed Aizawa a bright grin and a wink. "No promises. Wish me luck old man."

The members of the league were seated along a large table, bickering amongst themselves when she entered. For a moment y/n observed them, wrinkling her nose at the quirk inhibiting cuffs they wore, as much as understood why they wore them the sight still dug up uncomfortable memories. She cleared her throat, chuckling as everyone suddenly straightened and turned to face her. "Well that was easy. I'm y/n l/n, normally I'd run through the reform programme basics but this isn't your first rodeo correct?" There were a few scattered nods, but one member, Dabi she noted, stood and made his way over to her. Y/n merely raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" He held out his wrists. "Think you can take these off for me doll?" "L/n. And not yet, you know exactly why." She stared back at him, completely unfazed. "Stop trying to intimidate me, it's not going to work." "How do we know you're not just going to use your quirk on us while we can't do anything about it?" He challenged, staring her down. "Beat us up while you have the advantage." "Oh honey, I don't need my quirk to kick your ass." He scoffed in disbelief, rolling his eyes. Before he could get another word out he was face down on the floor, a knee pressing uncomfortably between his shoulder blades. "Now that's settled. I'll wear quirk suppressing cuffs too in these sessions if it makes you more comfortable. And I want names or descriptions of anyone who has ever used their quirk on you while you were cuffed. So I can talk to them." She climbed off Dabi, pulling him to his feet and pushing him back towards his chair. "It wasn't anyone in the reform programme, they were all just scared…" Toga spoke up. Y/n waved a hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. I said anyone and I meant it." She passed out sheets of paper and pens, letting them write while someone entered the room holding a spare pair of quirk inhibiting cuffs. No one watching missed the frown on her face as they were put into place, or the anxious biting of her lip. She could swear she heard Aizawa sigh on the other side of the wall. Once the assistant had left she gathered the papers, only to hand out more. "Is this a test?" Toga whined, holding up the stapled papers with a grimace. "No one gave us a test before." "I can't believe we have a test on the first day. You're a monster." Twice huffed. Y/n sighed. "I need to establish a baseline, for both your attitudes and abilities. If you're going to rejoin society then I want to ensure you're in the best place to do that. Not just that you won't start committing crimes again." "Are those math problems? And english?" Dabi scowled. "As I said, I'm establishing a baseline of your abilities. I expect you will all do well, but I need to know where to provide support if I'm going to turn you into constructive members of society." She settled back in her chair. "Stop grumbling and answer the questions Staples. The longer you spend grumbling the longer you're sat in here with me." "Is this information not contained in our files?" Compress, who had previously been quietly watching the others, spoke up. "I didn't read them. I wanted to start with a blank slate, or as blank as I could get from five people whose crimes were nationwide news anyway." She hummed, corner of her mouth twitching up in a smirk. "Just remember I will be reading those tests, and I won't hesitate to score any drawings of dicks." Her eyes slid to Twice, who suddenly started scribbling furiously on his page. She watched for a few more moments before leaving them to it and studying the papers in front of her. Pulling out her phone she started scrolling through staff lists and matching the descriptions to names.

At the end of the session she collected the papers and slid them into her bag before pulling out a small box. "Right, one at a time, come return your pen and I'll give you a phone. Right now they are only capable of messaging, but you'll be able to do more with them over time." She tapped the box. "They have each others numbers as well as my own. Do not lose them. I bought these and I'm not replacing them unless there are very special circumstances." "And if I don't want to return the pen?" Dabi huffed, twirling it between his fingers. Y/n plastered on a sickly sweet smile. "I'm glad to hear you're enjoying your stay within our prison system and wish to continue indefinitely." He huffed and nodded, dropping the pen on the desk. Once all the pens were collected and labelled phones distributed y/n bowed to the group. "Thank you for being so well behaved. You can use those phones to contact me, or each other, whenever you like. I can't promise I'll always respond immediately, I like to sleep, but I will respond." She nodded towards the door, which was being pushed open by one of the assistants. "I'll see you at the next session."

Once the League were gone she darted out of the room, collapsing into a chair next to Aizawa. "Get these things off me." Aizawa nodded, quickly releasing the cuffs and gently rubbing over her wrists as if he was brushing away the feeling of the metal. Smiling thankfully up at him she nodded her head towards the paper she'd dropped on the observation room desk in her rush. "I want to see the people on that list asap. And if there's any CCTV footage from their shifts I want that too." She hummed. "I don't think-" "Izuku. If what they said is true then it's my job to deal with that." Y/n snapped, whipping her head around to glare at the hero. "We are supposed to be better than this." Aizawa sighed, patting her head softly. "Just sort it Midoriya. Come on y/n, let me take you home." Y/n nodded tiredly. "Just this once 'Zawa."

< previous || Masterlist || next >

- y/n hates quirk supressing cuffs, she says “they make (her) skin itch and (her) blood feel like it’s writhing in (her) veins”. But, as much as she’d like to get rid of them altogether, she understands why they’re used and how they protect others.

- y/n’s way of running the reform programme is a bit different to most people’s. While there are set objectives everyone has to follow, she’s always done it her own way (and helped re-write the programme to allow for that). This may or may not be part of the reason she only gets to do ‘difficult’ or unusual cases.

Taglist: @denkisclown , @dabi-sunflower , @toshiuwu , @insane-without-delirium

#halo.writes #smau #bnha smau #my hero academia #league of villains #dabi x reader #shigaraki x reader #dabi x shigaraki x reader #sins of the past

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melatovnik · 3 years

Note

ok ur top faves wangxian fics go

hey yati! 🥰️

alright, so first things first, here’s a big wangxian fic rec list i made a while ago, if you wanna check that one out too! consider the list below part 2. these are all my faves so far since my last rec list (as you'll quickly see, i have a LOT of faves).

and just a fyi/psa/disclaimer for anyone reading this: some of these fics have disturbing themes and/or kinky/freaky sex! make sure to check the authors’ tags and notes before reading. also, much like my first rec list, there’s going to be a mix of mdzs and cql canon, characterizations, dynamics, etc., so bear that in mind.

....ok GO

live from new york by varnes | rated E | 87K words | THE snl au fic!!!! yes, by snl i mean saturday night live. this is perhaps the best and funniest story i've ever read, period. varnes is a fucking genius. read this fic.

Wei Ying lets out a long, ugly groan. “I am fine, Lan Zhan. Everybody is overreacting, it’s so embarrassing for all of you.”

“You had undiagnosed pneumonia, which you walked around with for weeks until you passed out during dress,” Lan Wangji corrects him. “It got a big laugh, until everyone thought you were dead.”

He keeps his voice even and does not tell Wei Ying that it had been Lan Wangji who caught him, who called the ambulance, and who rode with him to the hospital, where he was yelled at by nurses who wanted to know why he hadn’t noticed that Wei Ying couldn’t stop shivering or string proper sentences together.

“Rumors of my demise have been vastly overstated,” Wei Ying says. “Anyway, I’m already feeling much better. Basically fine. Really almost completely back to normal, so stop babying me and tell me why the fuck you let your stupid brother hire the worst man in the world to host our show.”

OR: the one where they all work at SNL, Yanli's ex-boyfriend is hosting, and that's just the beginning of everybody's problems.

swiss cheese theory by varnes | rated M | 19K words | sequel to snl au fic!!!!!! another must-read.

The Swiss Cheese model of accident causation likens human system defences to a series of slices of randomly-holed Swiss Cheese arranged vertically and parallel to each other with gaps in-between each slice. Defences against failure are modelled as a series of barriers, represented as slices of the cheese. The holes in the cheese slices represent individual weaknesses in individual parts of the system. The system as a whole produces failures when holes in all of the slices momentarily align, permitting "a trajectory of accident opportunity," so that a hazard passes through holes in all of the defences, leading to an accident.

OR: Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian go to the courthouse.

OR: “Sweethearts,” the city clerk had said, very gently, “you’re already married.”

best friends forever by varnes | rated T | 17K words | alright, so like, strictly speaking, wangxian isn't the focus of this fic, BUT. this fic is so good!! it is seriously so good, and it made me fall in love with jin ling/lan jingyi. also, it's varnes, so read it!

It happened like this: Jin Ling was a sect leader now, which was, and Jingyi really meant this, fucking hilarious. There were few things funnier, in his honest opinion.

Because he was young, and inexperienced, and also — it had to be said — a real shithead, there was apparently some belief amongst his advisors that the best way forward, to promote the picture of a stable, mature sect leader who absolutely did not cry at the drop of a hat, was for Jin Ling to get married.

OR: Jin Ling and Jingyi get engaged.

Things spiral from there.

For a Good Time, Call by ScarlettStorm | rated E | 171K words

The picture is of Wei Ying, that much is clear. It’s of a lot more of Wei Ying than Lan Zhan is used to seeing. He supposes that, technically, Wei Ying is dressed. It’s a bare technicality, since one of Wei Ying’s hands has rucked up his black tank top practically to his collarbone, showing a long expanse of abdomen and one nipple. Sweat beads on his sternum, catching the light like jewels. His other hand is--Lan Zhan feels his eyes widen, as though unable to look away from a train wreck--on his hip, one thumb tugging down the waistband of a pair of red briefs. Wei Ying is biting his lower lip and looking directly into the camera, sultry, his eyes dark and inviting. His erection is obvious, outlined against the red of the briefs and framed carefully with the hand on his hip. Lan Zhan’s brain goes wildly, screamingly blank.

Or: Lan Zhan accidentally finds his best friend's OnlyFans account and has an ongoing emotional crisis.

love, in fire and blood by cicer | rated E | 360K words | i actually haven't finished this one since i was reading it when it was a WIP, i need to reread it and catch up fjdskl;fjsd, but i love it very much!!!!!! oh my god he wanted to look nice for his husband..... 🙃 [screams with mouth closed]

"You want Wen Ruohan dead," the Patriarch continued idly. "You want his corpse puppets eliminated. You want his halls burned to the ground and his soldiers disemboweled and begging for mercy. Have I about covered it?"

He gave another knife-edged smile.

"But what will you give me in return?"

"We would be willing to offer quite a bit in return for Wen Ruohan's defeat," Lan Xichen admitted. "But I'm afraid we don't know what an immortal such as yourself desires. Please advise us."

The Patriarch waved at hand at the front of the tent. "I want Second Young Master Lan."

(In which the Sunshot Campaign ends through an arranged marriage to the Yiling Patriarch, and Lan Wangji suffers the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with his own husband.)

how to fall in love with a catfish: a guide by wei wuxian (disaster rat) by bwyn & Yuisaki | rated T | 55K words

A new plan hatches in Wei Wuxian’s head. If this nocturnal, bottom-feeding, slimy, invasive mudcat posing as a beautiful actor thinks he can sway Wei Wuxian with animal pictures and a sob story and an unbelievably stilted way of texting with still no dick pictures in the first five minutes of conversation, he has another thing coming. Wei Wuxian’s got it, alright, he has this in the fucking bag.

Wei Wuxian plots to expose a catfish using strategic memes and turtle pictures while wiggling his way out of family dinner. Lan Wangji just wants companions.

there’s no promised goodbye here by Yuisaki | rated T | 54K words

Jiang Cheng stares at him. “Didn’t you say you broke up five months ago?”

“Yeah.”

“So why do you have a picture of you two kissing taped to your fridge?”

“Because we’re too broke for magnets,” Wei Wuxian explains, then considers that statement. “Well, I’m too broke for magnets. Lan Zhan probably refuses to buy them because he’s trying to have lofty ideas about the moral failings of materialism.”

Wei Wuxian navigates the trials of living with his ex-boyfriend in apartment 1301.

paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 | rated E | 54K words

To say that he runs to his car would be incorrect, as he is a Lan, and running is both undignified and unnecessary unless in immediate danger. Nor does he slam his key into the ignition, or aggressively swerve around the cars on the freeway, or have a mild panic attack at the fact he is picking A-Yuan up late from school for the first time ever.

He comes close, though.

By the time he arrives, it’s 4:35PM, and he has imagined about fifty different worse-case scenarios. The door is partly open when he gets to it, a messy label of 104B—Art Room scrawled with chalk on a placard next to the faded wood. As he opens it fully, he expects to see a wailing, terrified child, or perhaps a scene of utter misery and betrayal.

What he finds is his son, hands covered in paint, being sung to by a beautiful, dark-haired stranger.

“Ducks live in the pond, yellow ducks, happy ducks!”

Lan Wangji stops in his tracks.

(Or: Falling in love with your son’s art teacher, in five parts)

a paper friend by sunzu | rated G | 5K words

Lan Wangji finds a paperman far from its body and helps get it home.

-Or-

Lan Wangji unknowingly meets Wei Wuxian for the first time.

All Caught Up by brooklinegirl | rated E | 37K words

"Betrothed," Wei Ying says indignantly.

Lan Wangji can't stop his gaze from darting up to him. Wei Ying understands. Wei Ying is looking at him, wide-eyed and upset on his behalf.

"And you don't even like her," Wei Ying says.

"I don't even know her," Lan Wangji says quietly.

"But even if you did—" Wei Ying starts.

"I wouldn't want this," Lan Wangji finishes.

Lead Me On Through by mrsronweasley | rated E | 55K words | oh look another canon-era practice kissing fic fjdskfl;ds

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

I Started From the Bottom/And Now I'm Rich by x_los | rated E | 58K words | ok so i know that in my spiel above i said to mind the tags, etc., but actually pay no mind to the first two relationship tags for this fic. i PROMISE that this isn't that sort of dead dove fic fjdksl;fjs;lifkj. i. it. it's wangxian. don't sweat it. don't even trip. just—this fic fucking rules. it's completely insane and it slaps. wei ying is a girlboss and a bitch and i like her So Much

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

rather cruelly used and rather reserved by x_los | rated M | 14K words

In the month between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian leaving Yi City and their attending the cultivation conference in Lanling, Wei Wuxian discovers a locked room in the Jingshi. It is a mystery that clever and curious Wei Wuxian is doing everything in his power to avoid solving.

But the rose was awake all night for your sake/Knowing your promise to me by x_los | rated E | 8K words | resentment tenties~

The resentful energy occupying Wei Wuxian's body like an enemy army is very interested in giving him Lan Wangji, tied up with a bow.

Wei Wuxian is hoping that Lan Wangji (who is far too noble and very keen to save Wei Wuxian's misguided soul) doesn't find out about any aspect of that.

Mo Money, Mo Problems by x_los | rated M | 3K words

After the Mo family perishes in distressing and mysterious circumstances, Wei Wuxian, still reeling from his reincarnation, tries to dip back into their manor for a little travelling money. (Forward planning! What a concept!) Lan Wangji catches him immediately, and is highly unimpressed (read: furious) with Wei Wuxian’s decision to run away from him in the first place.

Standing Engagement by x_los | rated M | 18K words

Lan Wangji believes he and Wei Wuxian are essentially engaged. While they search for his missing betrothed, he accidentally reveals as much to Jiang Wanyin. Now everyone in the cultivation world knows about the imminent marriage, except for Wei Wuxian himself.

Coming Back to Yourself by acernor | rated E | 22K words | genital swapping for fun and nonprofit!

Lan Wangji gets cursed with a ~woman's body~ and has to orgasm to go back. Since he's 1) a virgin 2) super repressed and 3) SUPER gay, he has no idea what to do.

If only he had a super nosy friend who's read lots of erotic novels who could help him figure out what to do... hm...

Save a Sword by etymologyplayground | rated E | 5K words | a fic inspired by the above fic!

Lan WangJi presses a kiss into his throat, which draws a shivering whine from him. "Like this," he agrees, his voice so low. Then he slides one warm elegant hand down Wei WuXian's chest to his belly, and then to his — to his —

fan ending for acernor's fabulous masterpiece "coming back to yourself" because i'm a huge goofball and that fic fucks

Our Eyes on the Road by etymologyplayground | rated E | 23K words | brought to you by lore (the author) and Orville Peck's hit song Drive Me, Crazy

Lan Zhan is silent for a long moment, and the van's speakers quietly pipe the second song on the album into the empty space between them. Then Lan Zhan shifts his hand a little on Wei Ying's leg, presses his fingers once into the meat of his thigh. "Alright," he says.

"Alright," Wei Ying echoes in a wheeze.

"Is that better?" Lan Zhan checks, because he is a good boy. Then he spreads his fingers out a little wider, because he is evil and must be stopped.

Lan Zhan is driving to Chicago. Wei Ying tags along.

Worship you till morning comes by feyburner | rated E | 7K words

A meet-cute, a first date, a sleepover.

Let's take a ride round the curves of desire by feyburner | rated E | 6K words | yeah........... uhh, yeah.

Wei Ying was sprawled on the floor in front of the oscillating fan when Lan Zhan got home from work.

The Roots Grow Riotous by hansbekhart | rated E | 105K words | a beautifully crafted, emotionally harrowing fic. i should warn you (since it's not quite tagged as such) that while wangxian is endgame, the overall story doesn't have the sort of happily-ever-after ending you might expect. i’ve seen it described as open-ended but hopeful and cathartic, which i find to be a pretty accurate assessment

Sometimes Lan Zhan doesn’t work through lunch. Sometimes he makes conversation with coworkers in the halls. Sometimes he goes home instead of spending the last hour trawling through Grindr. But mostly, that’s exactly what he does. The sameness is comforting. His life spools out in easily measured increments: capsule collections, yards of hand dyed textiles, ninety day lead times, sell through figures, cost of goods sold.

Every date in manufacturing can be calculated backwards and forward from a single horizon point: the date that the goods must arrive into the country where they'll be sold. Other than that, nothing else really matters.

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie | rated E | 76K words | i can't recall a fic ever affecting me as much as this one did. one of the best stories i've ever read. so, so, so crushingly beautiful. it's viscerally distressing/upsetting at times, especially at the start, so please heed the tags and author's note (they provide a way to skip the beginning scene if needed)!

That’s just the thing, isn’t it? Wei Ying feels nothing. He doesn’t feel anything, and this emptiness should scare him. He knows he should be scared. He wants to be scared. He isn’t. Fear itself is never scary; fear is just a response. It means that your body wants you alive. It’s the absence of terror that scares him.

请兔子吃晚饭; treating a bunny to dinner by yiqie | rated T | 3K words | read this one to recover from the above fic

It’s not really about the food. Being able to share it in the same space is its own kind of magic.

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie | rated E | 69K words | and then read this one to feel harrowed again, this time in canon-verse!

Wei Wuxian has certainly hoped so ardently in his two lifetimes, for so many different things, in so many different ways, that he could have summoned the demon to his front door with his bare hands. His eyes wander to Lan Zhan, settle on the back of his head, the blue-black curtain of his hair. Oh, how he has hoped.

在此恭迎夷陵老祖; to yiling laozu, the great and venerable by yiqie | rated M | 7K words | read this one to recover from the above fic (this time in canon-verse)

“You don’t know? In Yiling, there’s a tree at the edge of town, one that stands at the fringes of where the city ends and the Burial Mounds begin, called the Lover’s Tree. They say if you write a letter and nail it to its branches, Yiling Laozu will receive it, and he’ll reply.”

你的阳光下; wanna hide in your light by yiqie | rated T | 2K words | :')

Lan Zhan shuts off the water before it can start getting cold, because Wei Ying still needs to take one. Any other day, Wei Ying would have slunk in, pretending to be annoyed that Lan Zhan started without him, and neither of them would have want for hot water, but Wei Ying is still asleep.

From my heart's ground. by orange_crushed | rated E | 38K words | get (orange) CRUSHED!!!!!!!

After a while he can feel a palm against his face, gentle fingers soft and soothing. It’s not real, not exactly: he can tell the difference between a ghost’s touch and a living person’s, between a spirit-vision and an overactive imagination. His education has been thorough. But the beating has also been thorough, so for now he forgets what he knows and leans into it, into the hand cupping his cheek. It’s soft and dry as those forgotten petals, as the touch of a pillow. He can smell wildflowers, can taste blood and dirt. My baby, his mother says, and he closes his eyes. My treasure. He barely remembers the sound of her voice, but the feeling of it is just the same. Just the same as ever.

[In which Lan Wangji loses almost everything, plants a garden, and grows a second chance.]

Pentimento. by orange_crushed | rated E | 73K words | this fic briefly gave me a serious case of career envy :/ ......but seriously, this is an absolute must-read!!!

When Wangji was eighteen he’d walked into the first class of his fall semester painting module and there’d been a boy in a hilariously ugly floppy knit hat sitting cross-legged on the floor at the front of the room. He’d had a sheet of canvas paper taped to his board and his board clamped between his legs and a tackle box of brushes and tubes—a real fishing tackle box, with a fish-shaped logo on it that said BASS, not one of the nice art supply storage boxes they sold in the campus bookstore, like the one Wangji was carrying—open beside him. Everyone else had settled into the rows of stools and easels, but that boy had stayed on the floor for the whole two hour and thirty minute studio. Wangji had looked at him and thought, that idiot’s back is going to hurt.

[Former best friends Lan Wangji, paintings conservator, and Wei Wuxian, art handler, meet again and realize... neither of them were actually in unrequited love.]

Many happy returns. by orange_crushed | rated E | 25K words

His fingers are still clasped between Wangji's. In the mirror Wangji watches him tuck his coat between his thighs so that he can fuss with the tucked-in hem of his shirt, tousle up the side of his hair, all one-handed. "I hope what I'm wearing is okay."

"It's good," Wangji says. "You look good."

"I guess I must," Wei Ying says, and then he smiles and bites his teeth into his bottom lip for a second, devastatingly, and before Wangji can drop dead the doors to the elevator slide open, and the hostess station appears.

[In which lonely businessman Lan Wangji meets the right wrong person and changes the course of his life.]

The dreamers. by orange_crushed | rated E | 17K words

“Stop mothering me,” Wei Ying protests. “Why don’t you ever listen?” He scowls at Wangji, but then the lure of the clean water is too much; he sits grumbling and strips off his vambraces and loosens the collar of his robes and wipes himself down in the steam. Wangji sits on a stool and watches him, and after a while Wei Ying slaps the rag into the bowl and glares back. “Are you going to sit and stare the whole time?” he demands. “You want to see me strip naked and give my filthy evil self a good scrubbing, huh?”

Yes, Wangji thinks.

[This is a story about a horrible war and a beautiful dream; about grabbing happiness where you can find it, and not letting go.]

mercy, tear it down. by orange_crushed | rated E | 31K words

“You want me to call you good?” Wangji says. “To make you feel good?” Wei Ying makes a wretched, soft, surprised sound in the back of his throat. “Then will you be good?”

“Uh,” Wei Ying says. His lashes flick down again, nervously. “Good how?”

Wangji hasn’t quite thought that far ahead.

Kingfisher Feathers by Anonymous | rated E | 83K words | WIP (7/10 chapters, last updated 4/13/21) | omg omegaverse!!!! @/ this anon author... keep up the great work! also i have feelings for u

With an almost trance-like detachment, Wei Wuxian touched his own neck, his fingers skimming over the fresh mark. The bite wound had stopped bleeding, although he had no doubts it would open again if agitated.

Bonded.

He was bonded for life.

"Shit," he whispered. He looked over at the sleeping form of Lan Wangji—the Second Prince of Gusu and, until his brother was found, the sole heir to the throne. "Oh, shit. Lan Qiren is going to kill me."

----------

Lan Wangji goes into a fevered rut and accidentally bonds with Wei Wuxian. When they next meet, he remembers none of it, and Wei Wuxian is determined to keep the bond a secret—even when he's sent to the Cloud Recesses to be a consort in Lan Wangji's harem.

(tl;dr concubine!wwx is already married to emperor!lwj, who has no idea. drama ensues.)

Pull out game weak by 74243 | rated E | 23K words | featuring the hottest meanest dom top lesbian lwj of your wildest dreams. i hope ao3 user 74243 is having an amazing day

Wei Ying swipes right.

Extra Time by Anonymous | rated E | 28K words | fic inspired by the above fic! seriously good

How Wei Ying learned to stop worrying and love the strap (an AU of 74243's Pull out game weak)

Superfan by 74243 | rated E | 19K words | ao3 user 74243 writing banger after banger as per usual

“I’m not going to apologize for my job,” Wei Ying said, “so if you want to give me some kind of lecture--”

“No,” Lan Zhan said. “You misunderstood. I am...” she paused, as if considering the best way to put it. “I’m a fan.”

Spit in my mouth, look in my eyes by 74243 | rated E | 7K works | i'm just going to list all of ao3 user 74243's fics, ok? that's what's gonna happen here

Wei Wuxian was a little surprised herself, although she felt bad for being surprised. Of course it didn’t really mean anything about you, how you presented, Wei Wuxian knew that better than anyone, but all the same it was hard to reconcile Lan Zhan as an omega.

(wwx makes an error of judgment)

If the shoe fits by 74243 | rated E | 8K words

Wei Ying loses a bet.

the And they were roommates series by 74243 | rated E | 19K words total

That was the other thing, when Wei Ying had moved in. She’d scented Lan Zhan immediately, the sandalwood and smoke rising off her, almost before she’d taken in Lan Zhan’s straight posture, her narrowed eyes. She’d known that Lan Zhan could tell, too. At the end, when they’d talked about the rent and Lan Zhan’s nearly finished PhD and Wei Ying’s working hours, Wei Ying had said, casual and effortless, “And you don’t mind that I’m an omega.”

“No,” Lan Zhan said.

Chef's kiss by 74243 | rated E | 7K words

Wei Ying said, “You know, in some ways I’m kind of depressed. I took your biggest dick on my first try. Now I don’t have anything to build up to.”

“There are bigger ones available,” Lan Zhan said lazily. “I can pay for express shipping.”

(Lan Zhan works the late shift.)

Gold-palmed Warrior Quest! by 74243 | rated E | 13K words

When Lan Wangji suggested that they camp along the way to the Unclean Realm, rather than staying at inns, Wei Wuxian had been sceptical.

Dway! by 74243 | rated E | 6K words

“Hm,” Wei Ying said. “You like it rough, though, right? You seem like that kind of alpha.” When she saw Lan Zhan’s expression she raised an eyebrow. “What? Was I wrong? Are you tender and sweet? Do you cry?”

“You were not wrong,” Lan Zhan said. “I do not cry. Do you?”

tgif by 74243 | rated E | 17K words

Today Lan Zhan says that if Wei Ying cannot control her mouth then she will have to tape it shut.

On the ground by 74243 | rated E | 5K words

“I think you will like it,” Lan Zhan said.

Does your mother know by 74243 | rated E | 5K words | editing this rec list on a monday morning to add this brand new fic fresh off the presses. thank u ao3 user 74243 for feeding us so well 🙏

“Lan Zhan is such a well-behaved girl,” Madam Yu said.

all that and more by Euphorion | rated E | 20K words

Wei Wuxian locks his phone and puts it down, blinks at his ceiling, and picks it up again. The pictures are still there.

His first thought is that Lan Zhan meant them for someone else. That he just woke up at—he checks the timestamp—6:30 am on a Sunday and decided to go absolute full nuclear seduction option on some poor boy he met on Grindr, who would now be missing out on the best thing to ever happen to him because Wei Wuxian had a bad habit of distracting—of—oh.

Pieces of last night start to resurface and paste themselves together in his head. He winces.

The Golden Cutsleeve by syrus_jones | rated E | 77K words | of my faves, this is one of my favorite... faves. top faves. incredibly fun and silly and hot. just... oh my GOD, wei YING!

“I know! Why don’t you try it? Let me go and I’ll lend it to you!” Wei Wuxian bribed hysterically, desperate to escape from this encounter by any means necessary. And then, his eyes blew wide, realizing what he just said. ‘Wait— just what am I offering Lan Zhan?!’ he thought. How was he so stupid, how did he just offer that without thinking—

“You want me...to use it… after you?” Lan Zhan asked, his voice unusually faint.

~*~

Wei Wuxian's test of mysterious, literally magical sex toy goes awry when Lan Wangji finds him in the woods 'experimenting' with it and it ends up in Lan Wangji's possession.

Unfortunately, neither of them is aware that the toy is anchored to Wei Wuxian's body. Too bad Wei Wuxian invited him to try it.

Boy Trouble, We've Got Double by saltyfeathers | rated E | 60K words | !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is a really good fic

Lan Zhan stands there in his immaculate, cloud-patterned Lan robes, watching him calmly, one fist tucked up against his back. “I am betrothed.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “Are you…” He tries to laugh. Again, it sounds inhuman. “Is this about last night? Are you mad at me? I only remember some of it, Lan Zhan. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’m sure whatever I did I was just—” He gestures uselessly. He remembers being warm in Lan Zhan’s lap. He remembers fitting snugly in Lan Zhan’s lap. Wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck. Nosing at his jaw. “…playing around.”

“This has nothing to do with you, Wei Wuxian.”

none in the forest so bright as these by saltyfeathers | rated E | 6K words

Wei Wuxian puts a hand to his head, brain lost in fog. “Lan Zhan,” he pants. “Why are we here? Are we on a hunt?”

As Lan Zhan tries to remember, his brow furrows. He shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know.”

“This is bad,” Wei Wuxian says. When Lan Zhan cups his cheek again, sparks burst behind Wei Wuxian’s eyes. “Or maybe it’s not,” he says unthinkingly. Sighs, almost. Lan Zhan looks at his own arm like it's betrayed him. Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and presses his face into Lan Zhan’s palm. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he murmurs. “What’s happening to us?”

out in the garden, there’s things you hid away by saltyfeathers | rated E | 121K words | oww oww oww 😣😣😣💘

There is a man with empty eye sockets and tears of fire in Wei Wuxian’s dreams. Tendrils of smoke curl around him in sleep, pressing at his most vulnerable spots, seeking entrance, slipping between his ribs.

When he ignores Lan Zhan's offers of help, he declines rapidly. He will die. Or, he should. Anyone else would.

Instead, he flees. And transforms.

crawling through your door by saltyfeathers | rated E | 12K words

Lan Wangji kisses him. When he pulls away, he speaks into the silence between them, because when he is with Wei Ying, he so rarely considers. “Why don’t you touch me anymore?”

Lan Zhan Works for the Historical Society by saltyfeathers | rated E | 7K words | some real real good lesbian action up in here

Pretty Lan Zhan. Beautiful Lan Zhan. Ice queen Lan Zhan. So intimidating and femme and coldly polite in public, yet meaner than a man in the bedroom. Wei Ying has slept with men before and none of them were mean-nice to her like Lan Zhan.

threadfic by saltyfeathers | not rated (each chapter rated/tagged individually) | 34K+ words | WIP (11/? chapters, last updated 3/15/21), but it’s a collection of stand-alone oneshots

semi cleaned-up wangxian twitter threadfic.

【已經打動我的心】So Sing To Me All Night by aroceu | rated T | 10K words | arrow writes wei ying so exquisitely well. i was weepy the whole time read this fic. for the best experience, i recommend following along with the accompanying spotify playlist.

No one listens to the radio in this day and age, but somehow from a bunch of left clicking and right clicking, through Facebook and Twitter and Youtube, Wei Ying finds himself on the WQHS homepage—the UPenn student radio station, promising eclectic tastes from a variety of hosts. Wei Ying can't remember giving a shit about his old college's student radio before he dropped out, but it's eleven at night and he has nothing else better to do. He clicks on the button that says Listen Here! and waits to be impressed.

get wild by aroceu | rated E | 24K words | 🔥🏀🔥 BASKETBALL FIC 🔥🏀🔥

He was looking for a specific reaction—to get Lan Zhan to lash out. All hard edges and demanding, the same way during the first scrim, Lan Zhan's dark voice had made him loose and obedient, itching to both rebel and obey at the same time.

It's them, whatever it is, but it doesn't belong on the basketball court.

Wei Ying didn't expect to enter a weird... something-with-benefits-plus-power-play with the captain of the Gusu basketball team. He's not sure if it's worth it.

without a warning by aroceu | rated T | 10K words | 🥺️🥺️🥺️

“Blegh,” Wei Ying says. “I hate being sick, Lan Zhan… my throat is so sore… why do I talk so much?”

“Stop talking then,” Lan Zhan says.

“You don’t mean that,” Wei Ying says, in his half-asleep daze. “I know you’ll never admit it, Lan Zhan, but you like it when I talk.”

your honor i’m a freak bitch by aroceu | rated E | 6K words

Wei Ying gestures to his outfit. His hands are buried deep within the hoodie; he’s mostly gesturing with the sleeves. “Well, it works with the whole get up, you see?”

“The…” Lan Zhan looks down at where his fingers are toying with the top of Wei Ying’s thigh highs. Wei Ying pretends he is not shivering. “…skirt. And these stockings.”

“Thigh highs, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying says, batting at him with the end of a sleeve.

Play It By Ear by aroceu | rated T | 7K words | MY HEART !!!

In the virtual airplane flying over the island, appropriately called Yiling, Lan Zhan watches as bits and pieces of the island load in. There are many Statues of David, a gothic teacup ride, and, from what Lan Zhan can see, an entire field of spoiled turnips.

hanguang-jun @/hanguangjun Do you need turnips to sell?

timmy and tommy in a trenchcoat @/yilinglaozu oh! no haha! 😅 those are from a while ago but my brother insists i keep them there

for the ~aesthetic~

the key that our souls were singing by aroceu | rated M | 5K words

“I haven’t seen you since—Gusu, was it?” Wei Ying says. “Oh my god, it’s been so long. I didn’t even know you were LGBT! Unless you’re here as an ally, which is also totally cool—”

“No, I.” Lan Zhan coughs. Her throat feels dry. “I am a lesbian.”

abort retry fail by aroceu | rated E | 21K words

Lan Wangji must miss his husband over this amnesiac of a man Wei Wuxian has turned into. Well, Wei Wuxian will show him! He'll be even better—or at least, try to be just as good of a husband as he would be, without his memory loss.

Blackout If You Were Mine by aroceu | rated E | 9K words

Wei Ying likes to wear chokers a lot. So Lan Zhan buys some for him. Then, testing their limits, collars.

Wei Ying wears those, too.

Or, the one where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan accidentally stumble into a BDSM relationship.

eleven thousand meters & airborne by aroceu | rated E | 5K words | 😎✈️😎

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying join the mile high club.

many fox given by defractum | rated E | 24K words | can't go wrong with foxxian and dragonji content 🦊🐉

Lan Zhan is glaring at him. That's probably fair.

The last time they'd seen each other, Wei Ying had been digging through Lan Zhan's garbage. They'd made eye contact over the shredded bags, the week's trash scattered around him like stinky, oversized Lego.

Lan Zhan's eyes had been wide with horror, and Wei Ying's had been equally wide with feigned innocence. He'd reached out slowly, maintaining the eye contact, and then flipped over the food waste bin full of onion peel and carrot skin as a distraction and slunk off into the night. Probably not his finest moment.

Modern AU dragon!LWJ meets fox!WWX.

the tamed by defractum | rated E | 12K words

If the Second Jade of Lan insists on bringing the Yiling Patriarch as his guest to the next Cultivation Conference, he must first demonstrate a control over the Yiling Patriarch and his unnatural abilities.

The letter lies on their desk for days.

Post-canon, Wei Ying is invited, sort of, to a Discussion Conference.

us in a king-size, keep it a secret (say i'm your queen, i don't wanna leave this) by matcha_ado | rated E | 3K words

People always said Wei Ying was a royal pain in the ass. They were absolutely right, of course, just not in the way they thought.

it is wednesday my dudes by jelenedra | rated M | 4K words

Wednesday nights at Cloud Recesses strip club are always a little weird, but usually they're not this horny. Whatever Wei Ying and Lan Zhan get up to, Mianmian is not going to be the one to clean it up.

i'm the one for your fire by occultings | rated E | 43K words | cherry magic au! love it

Wei Ying, virgin and noted heterosexual, gets hit with a curse of an unusual nature on his 30th birthday — through physical contact, he can read the minds of others around him.

Enter Lan Zhan, hot former rival and current coworker, whose true thoughts about Wei Ying are nothing like he expects. (A loose Cherry Magic AU)

a thousand teeth, yours among them by darkredloveknot | rated E | 11K words

A one night stand in the time of zombies.

hoe to housewife pipeline by lanzhancore | rated E | 5K words

“You type fast,” Wei Ying murmurs, making a futile attempt at conversation while he waits for him to be done with… whatever. “Not to be pushy, but do you plan on fucking my ass anytime soon?”

or: wei ying has been thirsting after lan zhan for three slutty slutty years

can you feel it by lanzhancore | rated E | an instant classic

“What’s wrong?” Wei Ying asks finally, eyebrows drawn together. “Is everything okay?”

Thumbs stroking circles into his skin as if to comfort him, Lan Zhan says, “Don’t panic.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, sitting up on his elbows. “What did you do to my ass?”

“Nothing,” Lan Zhan says, convincing nobody. “But we need to go to the hospital.”

or: wei ying really should have sprung for the model with the flared base. he learns this lesson the hard way.

because you're mine (i walk the line) by lanzhancore | rated E | 8K words

Wei Ying is freshly cream-pied and still trying to remember where his legs are when Lan Zhan outlaws masturbation.

or: wei ying fucks around and finds out

payload by lanzhancore | rated M | 3K words | babysitter wwx + dilfji, what more could you need

Wei Ying has a whole five hours and thirty-six minutes to calm down but when he hears Lan Zhan’s key turning in the front door lock later that evening he has to cling to the couch cushions to keep from marching into the laundry room to retrieve the briefs so he can wave them in Lan Zhan’s face and demand to know who owns them.

or: lan zhan's self-restraint is not limitless

the to the brim series by verseau | rated E | 14K words total

Wei Ying wants to rob him, but it wouldn’t even be satisfying, since this guy is just—giving away money. With his nice fingers. Maybe Wei Ying will just bite his fingers, and that will give the same endorphin rush as robbing him. / a day told across five parts.

get that message home by verseau | rated G | 2K words | ohhhhhhhhh myyyyy godddddd 😭

Sizhui's father cannot haggle. It is a shame on Sizhui’s honor to have such an honest father.

Author's note [i'm including it here because it's golden]:

there is a scene in arrested development where lucille, who is on the opposite spectrum of humanity as lan zhan, asks, "it's a banana, michael. how much could one cost? ten dollars?" there are no bananas in this story.

dreaming and getting a glimmer by verseau | rated E | 27K words | a particular favorite of mine 🔥🍆💦🕳🔥

Wei Ying discovers himself.

trust your fingertips by plonk | not rated (but really rated E) | 15K word | 🥵️🥵️🥵️🥵️🥵️ plonk you’ve done it again!

Lan Wangji must suppress a shiver at every brush and press of Wei Wuxian’s fingers.

Under different circumstances - less public ones - he would welcome touch, given that his body is in such an aroused state.

Alas, his circumstances are these: sitting quietly while Wei Wuxian, the famous (infamous) Doctor of Yunmeng, digs his fingertips into Lan Wangji’s shoulders and chest and sides and hums thoughtfully.

Doctor, Doctor by YunmengLotus | rated E | 4K words | mmmmhmm!

Wei Ying needs to get a prostate exam. How ever will he deal when the world's hottest doctor walks through the exam room door and tells him to bend over?

TAKOYAKI by ariskamalt | rated E | 3K words | lan zhan gets jealous of his own damn appendages. meanwhile, wei ying is just having a good time.

Lan Zhan…cannot always feel or tell what his tentacles will do.

His free hand curls into a fist. Underneath his skin, the tentacles give a little squirm, as if aware of the challenge he has just issued them. No touching Wei Ying unless he says so, because he wants to touch Wei Ying first. They squirm again, as if to say, Tentacles: 1, Lan Zhan: 0.

That will just have to be remedied.

Or, as phnelt first described: Tentacle-ji with the semi autonomous tentacles getting jealous of his tenties for touching Wei Ying in places he hasn't yet

Outage by SugarMilkTea | rated E | 3K words | [cough] 😳😳😳

The power goes out in Lan Zhan and Wei Ying's rural home in the countryside. Lan Zhan takes advantage of the darkness to give in to one of his baser urges, and Wei Ying's first rural power outage experience is about to get a lot more interesting.

big hands (i know you’re the one) by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 8K words | NICE. 🔥🔥🔥

“Not a big talker, hm?” Wei Ying tilts his head to one side. “That’s okay, I’ve been told I’m a good enough conversationalist for three. My tongue is multi-talented and—”

He has just enough time to feel her palm on the back of his neck and think, oh, her hands are so big, before his words are being stolen into her mouth.

darling, am i a chore? by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 7K words

“Are you done playing around?”

Knowing that’s not what either of them actually wants, Wei Wuxian reaches up to tickle under Lan Wangji’s chin. Soft little scritches, coaxing motions—Lan Wangji is weak to all of them.

“You know what I want,” Wei Wuxian purrs, reaching up on his tiptoes to throw his arms over Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “Call me gege, won’t you? Call me and I’ll stop.”

(or: five times Lan Wangji paid special attention to Wei Wuxian’s interest in being his gege.)

put him on his knees, give him something to believe in by dustyloves | rated E | 2K words | if the title is quoting WAP, then you should know by now it’s gonna be some of that good filth

The next time Wei Ying kisses him, Lan Zhan is careful again. Wei Ying seems determined to make it very difficult.

the hard way by dustyloves | rated E | 9K words

"Anyway, you make it sound like something lewd is going on," Wei Ying complains. "It's all totally above board. She's just being a nice person. It's just one kind alpha grad student offering one room of her huge house to one beta undergrad in need, what could be more appropriate than that?"

// Wei Ying makes a mistake and finds out the hard way.

Exhibition by sevenless | rated E | 5K words

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow. “The forbidden section, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.”

“You’re not afraid of being heard?” Wei Wuxian thinks aloud. A smirk creeps onto his face, eyes glinting. “Or could it be that Lan-er-gongzi actually wants to be heard? Seen? Caught?” He skips in front of him, blocking his way. "Disciplined?”

Lan Wangji’s ears, as always, betray him.

a history of the body by northofallmusic | rated E | 14K words

Wei Ying's body hurts sometimes; she lets Lan Zhan help her.

A fic about the complicated nature of having a body, and also the versatility of sex toys.

(our friendship) up against the ropes by daltoneering | rated E | 36K words

The reboot completes, and Wei Ying’s brain smashes this information together into two mind-shattering thoughts. Number one, he knew very well already, and is now further seared by defined muscles and a mouth-watering tattoo into his every waking moment: Lan Zhan is the hottest fucking person on the planet.

Number two: that guy wasn’t visiting Lan Zhan’s neighbour, he was visiting Lan Zhan, which means:

Lan Zhan fucks. Lan Zhan fucks. Lan Zhan fucks.

;

Lan Zhan has been Wei Ying's best friend for years. Literally, years. How did he not already know? How has he missed this most important of facts? And more importantly, how is he ever going to get over it?

watching my heart go round by typefortydeductions | rated E | 38K+ words | WIP (2/4 chapters, last updated 5/2/21) | lan zhan i love you baby 💞

Lan Zhan falls apart. As it turns out, that's not the end.

oh man this list is so long sd;jfkdsjfhhh

yati, i hope you find some stuff in this pile here that you’ll enjoy! it's not an exhaustive list, so check out the authors’ other works and bookmarks for more goods, if you feel so inclined 😙💕

#darlingbenny #mdzs #fic rec #nsfw!

37 notes · View notes

melanated-maddy · 3 years

Text

TYTON

Hey welcome to this fan fiction. I recently finished war storm and I’m in love with Tyton. Couldn’t help but want to right a fic after seeing so little on this guy on tumblr. Don’t know if I’ll write more as got exams but if you like let me know! All characters and world and everything belongs to the queen herself Victoria Aveyard

Chapter 1

“Debark, debark, debark.”

Tyton was snapped out of his musings pale fingers still gripped against the fading cover of his book. They’d finally arrived back in Ascendant after another long plane journey. A year after the kingdom of Norta was officially dissolved with Cal’s abdication there was still unrest with the Silvers. Too many houses had attempted to feel comfortable on the sparkling throne. ‘Osanos says water comes after fire, Rhambos is taking strength and power a little too literally and Merandus is trying hard to distance themselves from the insanity their own brought forth in Maven and actually claim the throne. At least there’s no more Samos worries. That ship sailed or should I say smashed along with Volo’s head with his offspring are safely tucked away in the capital.’ The soldiers on the plane had started their move off some in a rush to get home to worried families and others ready to have a drink. Davidson was the closet family Tyton had after his own lost their lives to a raid. His mother, father and two younger brothers all gone in an instant. That instance was the first time Tyton’s ability was able to properly manifest. Properly surge. Properly show how dangerous he was. It was Davidson who found him when searching the wrecks of homes and families. Still holding his brother’s Aeon’s hand tears in his eyes. Davidson was always quiet even back in those days and knelt to Tyton’s small height hugging him close. After that day Davidson properly set about burying the family well allowing Tyton to grieve and giving him another place to call home. He’d never admit it, but Tyton was lucky...relieved that Davidson and Carmadon took him in. Even if those raiders who had taken his family from him deserved his rage, he was terrified of the lightning under his skin. With a huff, Tyton uncoiled his long body from his seat standing and stretching up to remind his muscles of their function. The suit he wore was dark not one of the traditional Montfort green it just would not do for some missions. Under his seat he pulled free the small bag carrying a bottle of water, bag of nuts and stored the book into it securely. It was the last thing he’d received from his parents and even so he still struggled to get through it properly. As Tyton turned to move out the aircraft door onto the tarmac he spotted Mare struggling to reach an overhead compartment to grab something. He quickly moved forward and grabbed hold of two items: a maroon scarf and backpack.

“Thanks.”

“No worries I’m always available to help the vertically challenged.”

Mare’s face turned into a vivid shade of crimson and she moved as if ready to punch his arm when Cal swung his head back into the cabin. He seemed exasperated which quickly shifted to a swift glare as his eyes settled on how close the two were.

“Tyton.”

“Cal.”

“Mare what's taking so long?”

“Difficulties getting the scarf and backpack you decided to thrust into the overhead bin. As well as being ready to obliterate string bean here.”

Tyton gave a chuckle, although he was slightly leaner than Cal a string bean he was not.

“Don’t worry just helping her out she’s still yours, your highness.”

Cal bristled with the label, but Tyton was already strolling out onto the blinding tarmac doused in bright light.

As he got his bearings about himself, Tyton could not help feeling the pulses of electricity going off in every person around hims body. Just as you could imagine different emotions and thoughts had different electric compositions. As people moved around he recognised stress signals, pulses of joy and shifts of concentration. The signals never went away but with time he’d found away to keep them working in tandem with him so he didn’t get overwhelmed.

“Tyton come on rides here.” Rafe called his hair in the sun giving the appearance of green flames.

Tyton walked to the transport, long legs eating up the distance in a few moments to be face to face with Rafe. Ella must’ve caught a different one as the storm addict’s blue hair was no where to be seen. Together the two walked towards Davidson who was speaking to Arezzo in hushed tones. With a nod she was dismissed walking instead of jumping to wherever she needed to go. Davidson turned to the two a smooth smile on his face and opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a quick trill.

“Rafe!”

A blur of orange smashed into Rafe’s chest holding him tightly as he clutched her back.

Laughing Rafe greeted her, “Iz, nice to see you too, but you’re crushing me.”

With one last tug, Izelle released her older brother a wide grin tugging on her lips as she looked up at him. Izelle, was Rafe’s little sister by a year who shared his dark brown skin smooth and even and bright smile. In her orange dress that spun around her knees and black combat boots, she giggled letting her hair of tight curls circling her head move slightly held back with an orange band.

“Is it wrong for me to have missed my dumb big brother? Am I wrong Tyton?”

Tyton smiled and shook his head as Rafe glared at him.

“So nice to know that it won’t be a strongarm that gets me but my sister’s choke hold.”

Iz shoved Rafe as he rolled his eyes and moved to put his bags in the transport while Iz turned to greet Tyton.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

And with that Tyton opened his arms and Izelle moved into them giving him a tight hug.

‘Her hugs are always great.’

“Thanks for looking out for Rafe. I’m one hundred percent sure he’s not dead somewhere because of you.”

A deep rumble erupted from Tyton as he shook his head. They walked to the transport as Tyton asked how she’d been.

“All good here finally ready to move onto the fourth arc only two more to go before I’m a qualified teacher of education.”

“That’s excellent. You’ve worked hard for it.”

“Yeah it’s been so long definitely the hardest thing I’ve faced, but it’ll be so worth it once I’m in a class with little guys.”

“Do you know what specialism you’ll take yet Izzy?”

In Montfort, classes were not segregated at all with children of all blood types getting the same education to the best standard they could. Those who were Ardent or Silver has supplementary classes to help in coming into their abilities. However, it was courtesy for teachers at normal school to specialise in understanding one blood type well so that support chains could be used in school for any student struggling.

“I’m not sure yet to be honest. I’ve still got to think, might swing for Ardent or Red they’ve already got lots of silver specialists.”

Tyton liked listening to Izzy speak. Her mind although more hyperactive than most was one he enjoyed feeling the thrum of. She would be an excellent teacher one who was fun and silly, but able to understand and be serious when needed. For all her loudness Rafe often called her the thunder to his lightning. As Izzy spoke she tended to often get enthralled by her words and lost her bearings of where she was. So much so she didn’t see a smaller transport squealing into her path. In seconds Tyron had pulled her back allowing the small buggy to rush past on its was.

“Izzy.”

“Ha sorry about that. Forgive me.”

And with a smile, all was forgiven.

“Come on Rafe is definitely going to start a mood if we don’t hurry up,” and with that she pulled his arm to the transport releasing him to clamber up and take a seat next to Rafe. For all the bickering and teasing they did the two siblings loved each other dearly. They had sought refuge in Montfort from the Piedmont principalities with their mother. The two remembered little about their original home as they had left so young, but the happiness Montfort gave them was all they needed. Forgetting all about her conversation with Tyton, Izzy poked Rafe to tell her all about Norta and what things they’d encountered. Izzy had never left Montfort. She was definitely not a soldier, barely remembering to tuck in her thumbs properly when punching Rafe and the Ardent abilities had only passed to him so a useful electricon on the battlefield she was not. The ride to Ascendant was bumpy, Davidson muttering about looking into the concrete and upkeep of the infrastructure when back home. The air rushed in as they sped across the landscapes moving closer to the capital with every second until the transport stopped in a quick halt. The stop was so fast Izzy almost span out of her seat if not for Rafe and Tyton’s arms coming to forth to stop her fall.

“What’s going-“

Davidson was cut off when a terrible crunch sounded off. Leaning forward, he could see one of the transports being crushed the metal casings crumbling against each other. Without a thought Davidson threw out a shield glowing blue in the setting sun surrounding the two vehicles.

“Raiders already?” Rafe hit his head against the seat in frustration before moving out of the car to help passengers in the afflicted vehicle. Tyton quickly went about feeling how many Raiders were out there without being told.

“10, all seems to be magnetron. 3 females, 7 males. Wait they’re leaving?”

“Leaving?”

“Yeah moving away.”

Davidson heaved a sigh, “Radio in for some teleporters for the wounded.”

“They’re already here.” Tyton looked out seeing that those badly injured were being jumped back. Being so close to Ascendant meant the teleporters could make the jump.

“Alright then, destroy that transport don’t leave anything of use behind for them.”

With that, Tyton moved to the transport now empty and absentmindedly called forth a storm preparing for a powerful bolt. The skies darkened as his storm came into existence. Davidson let the shield down for a moment to let the bolt come through. In a fraction of a second, a burning bolt of lighting came down from the sky smashing against the transport reducing it to dust and scorched earth. The air singed with crackle as the fire wreck obliterated. Tyton surveyed the scene inspecting the damage to see if it was at a high enough level to not be useful to a magnetron. Being happy with it he turned and started to walk back to Davidson and Izzy, Rafe already sitting in his seat. He was laughing at Izzy as she covered her ears wincing at the terrible sound of the lightning on metal. It was a sound not comfortable for most ears, but Tyton’s power was unheard of in an Ardent. He was different to the other electricons being able to handle electricity more naturally than even them. It didn’t take much for him to call a storm bolt of that magnitude. As he was within a few metres of the transport he suddenly felt a barrage of electrical energy moving towards them. Recognising it as the previous magnetrons he turned to quickly release brain lightning on them being able to drop 4 of them before one let off a spike. Moving out of the way he could do, but the spike still got him in the side forcing him to the ground. Davidson’s shields again went up and Tyton was pulled into the transport as it began to drive away with Davidson’s shields still up. Izzy clambered towards him pulling apart his suit to get a better look at the cut. Her hand pressed down hard as she told Rafe to get the medical kit under the seat. Tyton grasped onto her had holding it down as he grimaced from the pain. “You’re fine it’s only a scratch.” Izzy nervously laughed.

“Of course because scratches produce this much blood.”

“Shut up big baby. I’ve met toddlers tougher than you,” she grinned and Tyton smiled back focusing on her electricity and letting it calm him down in the transport racing back to Ascendant.

#red queen #tyton jesper #rafe #mare barrow #cal calore #montfort #silver #war storm #fanfiction #electricon #black girl #oc

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delusion-of-negation · 3 years

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top 10 (ish) ridiculous or annoying FAQs:

(click at your own discretion)

1) "kids today rely on others to do everything"

ah yes, damn those participation trophies! if it wasn't for them my hands wouldn't be fucked, and I wouldn't need people to write for me. but seriously, stop reading boomer comics, and go outside to meet some actual young people.

2) "sus that a non-american says mom"

yeah, because it's clearly the superior version, and I'm not too patriotic to concede a defeat.

3) "sweaty, the victims of abuse by catholics are real people, stop appropriating their pain just because you want to hate catholics; plus teachers abuse people just as often anyway"

so firstly, I don't hate anybody. and secondly, regarding the fact that victims really do exist, [insert "of course I know him, he's me" meme here]; although I don't often talk much about the abuse I went through or what my religious beliefs are. but, more importantly, statements like "survivors are people" can be phrased like "some people are survivors", and when you're unable to act according to the latter (like when you don't even consider that somebody might be one) then you display a failure to recognise the former - you're projecting; a survivor can't be appropriating their own pain, but you can be appropriating it to silence one. and thirdly, teachers do abuse - the problem isn't and has never been purely religion, rather that abuse is often done by somebody in a position of trust, power, and familiarity; and that the lack of a global minimum enables totally legal abuse on top of the illegal stuff. people with access and respect have more opportunity to abuse than those without, and that goes for teachers too. but, once again, you can be appropriating the pain of survivors to deflect and silence people. please remember this before you say that shit.

4) "get help/therapy"

way ahead of you - years ahead of you. but it's not magic - people who say this often act as if you'll start behaving differently overnight. not only are some things simply beyond the ability of talking therapy to completely rectify, it also takes time and has to be selective. you've got to pick your priorities, and that's definitely not whatever ship or joke you're mad at me about today. therapy is a slow, arduous process that can't guarantee results - it isn't "anti-recovery" to recognise that, it's honesty. while I've been in therapy for a long time, it is not necessarily going to change whatever you don't like about me - whether that's because it can't, because my focus now is on more important or urgent things, or because I don't want to change that.

5a) "tell your family you ship incest, see how that goes; normal people find it disgusting"

actually, some know, and they're fine with it. in fact, one prefers sibling pairings in fiction to all other dynamics because, to paraphrase, "it's a deeper level of messed up co-dependence". so unfortunately for you, my remaining family (by which I mean those not dead or cut out of my life after abuse and so forth) actually are able to distinguish between fiction and reality. plus, my reasoning for caring if they find it gross or not pertains only to recommending books and such - their opinions do not dictate my tastes.

5b) "don't sexualise/appropriate incestuous abuse" and "I bet you enjoyed being raped" and other attempts to upset me over 5a

firstly, as I've already said here, survivors can't be appropriating ourselves. in addition, you're not owed people's history or trauma - it's not okay to require people's personal information, or else you'll send anon hate and accusations of appropriation. secondly, I'm not sexualising our abuse (not just because I write horror, and so a lot of my writing is intended to be creepy, not sexy); these stories aren't about us, they're not us at all. entire dynamics/people (fictional or otherwise) aren't all going to be applicable to us or identical to us, just because they have something in common with us; they're not us and they're not accountable to us. thirdly, the fact that people send this stuff (attempting to trigger people's trauma over ships) is so much more worrying to me than somebody making our communal imaginary friends kiss. you're trying to hurt people. and finally, to the "I bet you enjoyed it" crowd (if you're at all serious): do you think you'd enjoy being in a real zombie apocalypse, alone, afraid, and really at risk of being eaten alive? a fictional scenario does not feel remotely the same as a real one. this isn't rocket science - things that look like you aren't you; fiction isn't reality; don't send anon hate. (edit: comparable "just leave me alone, I'm not hurting anyone" sentiments for yandere stuff, and anything else you decide I'm naughty for.)

6) "you'll be sent off to do manual labour once your communist revolution happens"

while I don't know why people think that I'm a communist, a dictatorial regime probably isn't going to want me to do manual labour. they're more likely to just shoot me; I'm useless and a liability. call me crazy, but something tells me that "ah yes, we shall give ze deranged cripple ze power tools" isn't the communist position.

7a) "they/them can't be singular pronouns"

yes they can, and they're used as such in both shakespeare and the bible. but you don't have to say this - I'm also okay with he/him, so you could've just used those and chilled out. also, do I look like somebody who views the rules of grammar as fully immutable and imperative?

7b) "enbies/aros/pan/etc aren't valid"

do you really think that you're going to change any hearts or minds by putting that in my ask box or under my funny maymays? chill out, it's not worth the effort - you could be planning a party (in minecraft) and having fun instead. it isn't worth my time to rant at everybody who's saying something isn't valid, updating how I'm explaining it as my opinions grow and general discourse around it evolves; I'm just who I am, somebody else is who they are - why bicker in presumptuous ways about if that's enough? it ultimately is valid, in my opinion, but that isn't an invitation to keep demanding that I debate. (edit: old posts of mine probably don't phrase things incredibly, on this or anything... I tried.)

8) "what are your politics?"

my politics are informed first and foremost by the knowledge that I'm not cut out to be some kind of leader - I don't want to be the guy who tells everyone else what to do, I just offer what seem to me like valid criticisms of how we are doing things now, and general pointers on the values and ethics that I would prefer to move towards. things like individual freedom, taking the most pacifist route where possible, trying not to give excessive power to small groups of people (governments or corporations), helping those in need even when they're not palatable, and letting me suck loads of dicks. but please refrain from decreeing me something - there's not enough information in what I said, so you'll just be filling in the blanks with assumptions. (edit: workplace democracy seems cool to me; benefits are good; fair fines and taxes; and the "sperm makes you loopy" saga: 1, 2, 3, and 4.)

9) "you're a narcissist"

no, I don't meet the diagnostic criteria. joking on the internet that you're hot doesn't make a person a narcissist. the fact that I've chosen to keep my actual self-esteem issues to myself is not proof that they don't exist - you're just not entitled to that information about me. but it's also not narcissism to really like how you look. (edit: don't throw labels around carelessly too.)

10a) "kin list?"

the fabric of the universe, a zombie, dionysus, maned wolf/arctic fox hybrid, a comedian, big gay, big rock, ambiguously partial insincerity. (edit: kin list may or may not be incomplete.)

10b) "kin isn't valid/that's just being insane"

haven't we established that I'm deranged, and that sending stuff like this on anon is simply a waste of your precious time? besides, I do not care if it's invalid or insane - it's fun, I'm happy. (edit: see 7b for my opinion on sending me yet another ask with "that's invalid" in it; I'm not in the mood to discuss the nature of validity.)

bonus: "it gets better" and "trigger list?"

as I've said before, things just don't always get better for everyone - sometimes things can't be cured or even treated, sometimes they kill you; in some cases it could get better if not for a blockade or lack of time. the world is messy. it needs to be more normalised to reassure or comfort people without relying on saying that their issue will get better or be cured. it does suck to be this ill, but it also sucks to be made out to be a lazy pessimist, just because I have the audacity to not play along. and as for the trigger list, I don't like providing people with an easily accessed list of ways to hurt my feelings or harm me - upsetting me is supposed to be challenging, and thus rewarding. if you want a cheat sheet then you're out of luck, I'm afraid.

bonus #2: "FAQ stands for frequently asked questions, it doesn't need that s at the end!"

yeah, I know, I just enjoy chaos and disarray.

bonus #3 (edit): "what are your disabilities and how exactly are they incurable and/or deadly?"

again, I don't tell the internet everything about me, especially when it poses a risk, especially not as an easily accessible list for you to refer back to whenever you feel inclined to hurt my feelings. that is understandably a sore subject. (edit: that includes physical health issues btw.)

bonus #4 (edit): "so we shouldn't be critical?"

if it wasn't clear from my answer about politics or my post in general, you can have opinions about things, and you can voice that. it's just not realistic to exist at extremes: to think that you alone should dictate what exists in fiction, or to think that people shouldn't be expressing disdain or criticism of any calibur. say how you feel about things, that's fine, but it's also fine if people find that they don't value your input. plus we're all flawed, we can all be hypocritical from time to time, we all get bitchy, and we all make mistakes, or even knowingly fuck things up. that's important to keep in mind, whether we're talking about the one being criticised or the one doing the criticising - poor choices of words, imperfect tone, or contradictory ideas are inevitably going to happen occasionally.

congrats on reaching the end! if you have, at any point, said one of these to me, you owe a hug to your nearest loved one (once it's safe).

edit: might add more links/bonus points in the future when I think of things, but it's late now. (sorry for links where prior notes in the thread have my old url, that may get a tad confusing; also, not all links are my blog or my op, since it is to illustrate points/vibes, not to self-promo.)

#don't take life too seriously #nobody gets out alive anyway #tw abuse mention #tw csa mention #tw incest mention #tw for any tws I missed #idk why I did this

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thepandamightwrite · 3 years

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Chapter 1: The Poisoning

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Alcohol mention, poison, indirect death mention, attempted murder

Age group: Young adult

Whole Story Blurb: When Amira Bashir almost dies from hydrogen peroxide poisoning, PI Anjali Dayal must figure out who wants the president dead. Only 6 people could've spiked the glass, and with all of them having strong motives and shaky alibis, the case proves quite difficult to crack.

Notes: I’m so excited to share part one of my WIP with you guys! This idea has been nagging at me for a little while and I finally got around to writing it. Constructive criticism is always appreciated! Hope you enjoy it!

~†~

The elaborate diamond chandelier tosses tiny rainbows around the ballroom packed with drunk ambassadors. Isabella Garcia wishes she could stop working for a little bit and admire the splendor, maybe take a few pictures as well. But alas, she's still on duty and Luke will throw a fit if she stops for even a moment. As she makes her way back to the White House kitchens, she can't help but feel the familiar stab of envy at her extravagant surroundings. The people that claimed to be working for common citizens were the ones spending $50,000 on a glass of champagne.

Normally, Isabella would be able to put it out of her mind and do her job properly, but the imbalance irks her more than usual today. She throws open the doors of the kitchen and within a couple seconds, a tray full of drinks is thrust in her arms and she's shuttled back to the cursed ballroom. "Stupid ambassadors. Being treated like kings and queens instead of the entitled scums they are," Isabella grumbles as she trudges down the plush, carpeted hallways. On her way, Isabella glances at the note on her tray that guides her to the drinks' final destination, and she almost drops the glasses in surprise.

40 y/o Macallan Whiskey ---------------------------------- Ambassador William Burton

Dom Perignon --------------------------------------------------- Ambassador Irina Petrov

Orange Juice ------------------------------------------------- First Husband Aariz Bashir

Sparkling Water --------------------------------------------------- President Amira Bashir

Isabella stands in the middle of the deserted hallway, her jaw on the floor, stomach turning, and her sweaty palms struggle to grip the tray that's slowly sliding out of her grasp. Get ahold of yourself Garcia. Don't screw this up. She straightens her tie, runs her fingers through her hair, and pats the vial in her pocket. Considering her clientele, she'd need it later.

~†~

Secret Service Agent Miyoko Mori glances down at her watch, whose hands aren't moving any faster, despite her staring at it incessantly for the last few hours. 2 minutes and 30 seconds left. She drums her restless fingers against the table with the poison testing materials. No one's ever dared to spike anyone's glass, after all, there wasn't exactly a way to get anything dangerous into the White House in the first place. But still, out of a ridiculous abundance of caution, Miyoko had to test every single glass entering the ballroom for traces of toxins. Where is she?

Suddenly, Isabella turns the corner, balancing a tray of drinks and donning an endearing smile. "Agent Mori! I'm baaaack!" she calls in a singsong voice. "It's about time," Miyoko retorts. "I've been waiting for you to show up for the last 5 minutes! It's so dull here and I missed talking to you." "Aww, can't live without me can you," Isabelle teases with a flirty grin. "I mean I could, but it'd be rather boring, especially considering the only other person here is Agent Carter," Miyoko responds, gesturing at the burly man a few feet away. "That does sound rough," agrees Isabella. "But try serving drinks to drunk, pompous officers, and you'll be begging for your boring job in a few minutes." Agent Mori shakes her head disapprovingly as she places the poison testing strips inside each drink.

Then, she notices the label on the tray revealing that one of these drinks will reach the president herself. Well, the universe is certainly kind to me today, she thinks to herself. I'd be a fool not to take the opportunity that's fallen so perfectly into my lap. Once the tests come back negative, she takes the strips out of the glasses, lingering for just a second longer than she needs to in order to get the job done. "You're all good to go," Miyoko says, lying through her teeth.

~†~

Why didn't I wear heels, laments Russian Ambassador Irina Petrov as she waits for her drink. Most people would be glad to don comfortable flats instead of piercing stilettos, but the cursed shoes give her the 2 inches of height she so desperately needs. Especially considering her peers are at least a foot taller than her, Irina could use the heels to make people take her seriously. Sometimes, she wished Ambassador Burton wouldn't be listened to either, after all, he did spout nonsense most of the time. At the moment, he was debating the president and her husband about some stupid topic Irina couldn't bring herself to care about.

In that respect, Amira is commendable to say the least. Even though she's only a couple inches taller than Irina, Amira Bashir has a certain air of power and influence that makes even the most stubborn man pay attention. If only circumstances were different, I could actually learn a thing or two from her.

The British Ambassador, William Burton, starts yapping about drug prices and Aariz Bashir looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. Or maybe he was babbling about the military. Irina had already consumed a few too many drinks. She would look better with pale skin and glassy eyes. She shakes her head vehemently in an attempt to banish the distasteful thoughts from her mind. "Really Ambassador Burton? I would've thought you of all people would be in support of the Bashir Trade Deal. After all, the trade routes it proposes would make it far easier to distribute goods all over Russia," challenges the president. Oh no. Irina stammers an excuse for her absentmindedness, hoping that it could all be blamed on the 4 glasses of champagne she'd consumed earlier in the evening. One glance at Amira told her that wasn't the case and her stomach churned in apprehension.

The president was intimidating on a regular day, but seeing her angry was even worse. Ambassador Petrov could never forget that fateful day when she'd been more terrified of Amira than her, or probably anyone, had been in their lives. If the president could hold a grudge just like she did her secret, Irina was in big trouble. Amira's strategy was to let the information fester until it drove everyone to insanity. Not for much longer. Right on cue, the waitress arrives with the drinks and after William takes his whisky, Irene reaches for her champagne with shaking hands, hesitating longer than necessary.

~†~

Amira eyelids feel like they are 250 pound weights, as though she would fall asleep any minute. Although she's never consumed any alcohol, she still felt rather hungover from all the useless conversation. Back when Amira first ran for president, she hadn't realized how many meaningless balls and galas she'd be subject to. Naively, she'd taken the job thinking she'd be transparent about everything and only do things that would help regular, working class people. Unfortunately, that childish dream had been extinguished after a few months, when the AI war took place. The casualties still weighed heavily on Amira's conscience, but if she could go back and make those difficult decisions again, she probably wouldn't change anything. That truly scared her.

"President Bashir, you have a meeting with the Secretary of State in 15 minutes," chirps Alyssa Miller, her personal assistant. "Very well. If you could get the necessary technology ready, I'll meet you in the Oval Office in 10 minutes." "Absolutely," Alyssa replies as she scurries off, leaving 3 broken vases and multiple squashed toes in her wake. President Bashir shakes her head, but laughs to herself as the waitress brings their drinks.

"Here you are, dear," says Aariz as he hands Amira her sparkling water. The president knows her husband is quiet to begin with, but this was the first sentence he'd spoken for the whole evening. Something was off, and Amira intended to find out, right after this stupid gala was over. As she reaches for her glass, Agent Brown swats her hand out of the way and takes it for himself. "Lucas!" "Sorry ma'am, it's protocol," he responds with an apologetic expression on his face. President Bashir rolls her eyes at the unnecessary precautions, but waits for the glass to be tested for poison. She looks around the room, noticing the nervous, distracted, apprehensive expressions of the people closest to her. Something seems a little off about everyone, but before Amira can think about it too much, Lucas yells the fateful words that sends her life spiralling. "There's poison!"

~†~

#a presidential poisoning #anika actually writes #anika writes #my writing #my WIP #chapter 1

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realityhelixcreates · 3 years

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Beta, Theta, and Me Chapter 9: Magic Carpet Ride

Chapters: 9/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Avengers (Movies) Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not right now),Drug Use

Characters: Loki(Marvel) Additional Tags: A/B/O, Sorta, More Of An Exploration Of Life And Self Expression Within An A/B/O Framework, Loki Does What He Wants, But Loki Does Not Actually Do What He Wants, Antagonistic Bosses, Loki Has A Throne Now, But It’s Not What He Wanted

Summary: Loki, paragon of self-sacrifice, must face down a cultural taboo.

Loki stared ruefully at the little bottle of pills on the table in front of him.

“You've got to be kidding me.” he said, “Your weak mortal medicine will have no affect on me.”

Tony Stark shrugged. “Works on Cap.”

“I am not your Captain Rogers. We are worlds apart.”

“The guy's a never ending science experiment. We had to develop insanely strong meds for him because, in the event that he actually managed to get hurt, our strongest stuff couldn't help him. But I have it on good authority that this'll do the trick. That authority being your brother. King of Asgard.”

Loki glared in scandalized disbelief. “You are telling me Thor actually took one of these?”

“Took some persuading, but yeah. After he came back down, he was pretty sure they'd work on you too, despite your differences.”

Loki's eyes flicked to you, then back to Stark, then to the bottle. “Hold your tongue. We don't need to discuss this any further. I will not poison myself at your command.”

“It's not poison!” Stark insisted. “It's a painkiller and anti-inflammatory. It will help you heal.”

“You cannot expect me to degrade myself for your convenience.”

“No, I expect you to lie for your convenience.” Stark shot back. “Though I don't see how hiding this from me,” he gestured at the chair, the neck brace, “actually helped you at all. You don't get anything out of it. Anyway, you really need to start cooperating if you want to stay. I'm trying to be lenient, but the more you complicate things, the more likely it is you'll be discovered. I think we all agree that would be bad.

As for you, if you want to come back downstairs and rejoin society, we've always got space for you” he said to you. “The baristas have been asking after you.”

“No!” Loki burst, “If I must befoul myself with your medicines to retain my lodgings, then I require her assistance to oversee things while I am...impaired.”

It had been an accident. Or rather, a lapse in personal judgment. You had left Loki after dressing him one morning, to fix breakfast, and Stark had shown up. And because he was your boss, and owned the building, you had just let him in. That's right, you had helped out the landlord. Your parents would be ashamed of you. You were ashamed.

And the silent fury Loki had been radiating when he wheeled out into the seating area and Stark had gotten a look at him as he really was made you surprised that he wanted to keep you around at all.

Stark had given him an exasperated earful, and then left, coming back this morning with a bottle full of small pills. You couldn't even come close to pronouncing the complicated name on the label, but from what Stark was saying, they were the kind of thing that should never be taken by a normal person. Not if they had been made with Captain America in mind. Not if they were powerful enough to string out Thor.

You were surprised Loki was even pretending to go along with this, considering the cultural attitudes to chemical medicines in Asgard. Really, you fully expected him to order you to throw the pills away once Stark left.

When you brought him his tea, he sighed deeply, his expression a mask of utter melancholic resignation.

“Crush one of those accursed pills into a powder and add it to the tea.” he said woefully. “Stay by me as I suffer this indignity. Be forgiving of any upcoming transgressions, I implore you.”

“Hey, I'm sure it won't be that bad.” you said, grabbing a cooking spoon, and carefully breaking the pill down into a fine powder with the handle. “It won't stay in your system for very long. Your body will filter it out and flush it away, and you'll be clean again.”

You brushed the powder into his teacup, and stirred until it dissolved. Then you handed it over to Loki, who stared into the cup morosely.

“Won't it be good to not be in pain, even just for a little while?”

“I thought that many times, when I was in the clutches-” He stopped abruptly. “I've thought that many times. It is always denied to me somehow. There's always a catch.” He took a long sip of the tea, and sighed again. “And so I am tainted. At least the tea doesn't taste any different. You are getting better at that.”

“Here, have a muffin.” you offered him your freshest creation. “It says on the bottle that you're supposed to take it with food.”

He accepted the muffin with all the graveness of a prisoner at his last meal, but he thanked you graciously, and stopped you when you started to leave his side.

“I will be rendered a senseless fool by this foul poison. You must stay close, so that I do not do something utterly moronic, like throwing myself from the balcony on the assumption that I can fly. I might not actually survive in my situation, and I dislike long falls anyway.”

“You're scared of heights?” you asked, scarcely able to believe it.

“No,” he said haughtily, “I dislike long falls. It is different.”

“Why do they bother you?”

“That is personal.”

“I've seen your dick.” you pointed put.

“You would not be the first.” he said, matching you for vulgarity.

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. Do you want more tea?”

Loki glanced into his empty teacup, bemused to see the bottom.

“Yes, I suppose I would.” he said, setting it down for you.

He had tried to teach you the fine art of pouring tea, and you had finally managed to do it without dribbling, but, as Loki put it, you also did it without grace. He didn't say anything this time, just tightened his lips in a sarcastic way, and took a sip.

At least you knew how to make tea to his specifications. It wasn't difficult, once you had figured it out. Just measurements and timing.

He had devoured his muffin, so you brought him another. Loki was extremely particular about flavors; not adventurous at all. Even banana nut offended his senses. But cream cheese met his approval in every application so far, even if he did complain about the texture of bagels.

“You'll have to get me an Asgardian cookbook, if this keeps up.” you said. “I might be able to whip you up something that reminds you of home.”

“I do not necessarily always want to be reminded of home.” Loki said. “And some of our dishes take many hours, even days to make. I need you for more than that. You cannot be in the kitchen at every moment.”

You would never admit it to anyone, but you got a surge of secret pleasure every time Loki said that he needed you. You'd always enjoyed hearing it from others, but it was so much better coming from a god.

Though it did make you wonder if the isolation up here was messing with your head a bit.

“Besides,” he continued, “enough cheese, bread, and meat will approximate the diet well enough. Asgardians have high metabolisms, and require many calories, and so do I. Our active lifestyles tend to make us big eaters as well, although I do not get my usual exercises these days.”

“If you would actually give yourself the time to relax and heal, you might be able to get back to that sooner.”

“Yap, yap, you nag like a bratty lapdog.” He scorned. Your eyebrows skyrocketed.

“Well gee,” you said with exaggerated shock, “if you don't want me here, just go ahead and say so. I'll go downstairs and be a barista.”

“No, you cannot leave me!” There was a distinct waver in his voice. “I will be polite. You won't leave me, will you? I didn't mean it.”

“Loki.” you said, suddenly feeling guilty. He sounded like a scolded little boy, on the verge of tears. “I'm not going anywhere. Don't worry about that. You should be more polite though.”

He reached out gracefully and took your hand.

“Dear lady...” he began, his words slightly slurred, and you finally realized that the medicine was taking effect.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, filling his tea again.

“Strange.” he said. “I feel light, but like there is a weight upon my eyes. Light, but like I cannot lift my limbs. One with this chair. Melting into the floor. I do not hurt...it's been so long...”

He really was starting to tear up.

You took his tea from his trembling hand and grabbed up a tissue.

“Here you go.” you said, dabbing his eyes gently. “Go ahead and enjoy it. Pain shouldn't be an everyday thing for you, if it doesn't have to be. You don't have to feel bad for enjoying a little bit of peace.”

“No, you don't understand. I don't deserve this. The pain was at least something familiar. I don't recognize this feeling. This lightness. It doesn't feel real.”

“Well, you are real, and I am real, and the medicine is real. The feeling is the medicine acting on your perceptions, so it's kinda real, it's just different than usual, that's all.” you patted his hand, and he grabbed for yours.

“Will this feeling go away?”

“Of course!” you laughed, “don't worry, this is just temporary. It will help your neck, and when you're healed, you won't have to take it anymore.”

“What if I can't stop?” he asked. “I am...not good at refraining from...indulgence.”

“If no one brings you anymore, what could you do about it?”

“If I am healed enough to remove this brace? To move about freely? What could I not do about it?”

“You know, that's a good point. I think we'll have to find you some of that ultra-powerful super weed the cops keep saying totally exists, but no one else seems to be able to find.”

He gave you a sideways stare. “More poisons?”

“It's to help free you from the other poison. But there are multiple strategies for getting clean, if that really becomes a problem. It's not like I've never seen addicts before; I'll help you if you need me.”

He reached for your hand again, and missed.

“Blessed thing.” he blabbered. “You are a draught of Alfar wine, brewed under the starlight. The fresh breeze through the forests of Vanaheim, just after sunrise. You are the faithful moon, pure as gold.”

“And you are high as balls.” you teased, bashful about the flowery praise. You really shouldn't be pledging any more of yourself, but the allure of being needed-wanted even, was as addictive as any drug.

“You are the only once who may see.” he said. “I want no one else to see me like this. Stark especially. None save you may witness my dishonor.”

“Loki,” you mock-scolded, “if you keep looking at it like that, you'll impede your own progress. You'll fight it subconsciously, and just slow your healing down.”

“How, pray tell, should I look at it then?” he asked.

You took his hand, which was still waving around after yours.

“Look at it as permission. Permission to relax, to let the guard down and just exist for a while. You have everything you need right here, you can just be. It's okay to take some time to just be.”

“Just be what though? What is worth it for me to be?”

You shrugged. “A prince?”

“In exile.”

“A god?”

“Blasphemed rather than worshiped.”

“How about...my master?”

He squirmed a little in his chair.

“I could perhaps do that effectively.” he said quietly.

#betathetaandme #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

Labelling Love | Part 2 (Collab)

Summary: Meeting you changed the way Eunwoo viewed romance and love entirely.

Pairing: Cha Eunwoo x female reader

Genre: university au / romance / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: Welcome to the second series in the monthly Love In Fours Ways collab with @jackiejacks923 @noona-clock & @this-song-thats-only-for-you . In the final week of each month during this collab, we’ll be each sharing a mini-series using 4 of the pictures/concepts illustrated in the book that inspired our series that I’ve credited below.

Credit to: Puuung - Love Is In The Small Things // #76 , #60 , #4 , #33

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 // Collab Masterlist

Part 2 - The Moment Just Before The Actual Kiss, Which Is Sometimes Even Sweeter Than The Kiss Itself

Blinking at his admission, your eyes then grew unfocused. “You… you what?”

“I know it’s ridiculous. Believe me, I don’t understand it either,” he continued hastily, letting go of your arm and running a hand through his hair. “But ever since I first saw you, I’ve been distracted like this.”

A small smile ghosted over your lips. “I see.”

“I’m normally rather efficient, not at all a bumbling mess like this.”

“And I make that harder?”

“You’re enjoying this now,” he lamented and you giggled before biting at your bottom lip. Eunwoo couldn’t help but groan at your elated expression. “Meanwhile I think I’m going insane.”

“I think you’re just being really romantic.”

Eunwoo laughed, shaking his head. “Oh no, that’s not me.”

“It’s not?” you echoed, pursing your lips together.

Oh god, why had he noticed them right at that moment?

Blinking rapidly, he sat back in his chair quickly. You watched him before grinning. “What’s not romantic about a guy telling you the reason he can’t think straight is because of you? Most girls dream of being told this, you know.”

“Really? But it’s so…”

“Romantic,” you repeated, your smile splitting your lips further. “Thank you for telling me the truth, Eunwoo.”

He sighed, glancing at you cautiously. “What do we do now about it?”

“Well, if sitting next to me is a bother, we could try moving apart so long as you don’t use this confession as something to avoid me entirely with.” Eunwoo didn’t mention out loud that it had been a thought he possessed, but you seemed to notice and hissed at him. “You can’t!”

“I dislike being this hopeless,” he told you with a pout which only made you further unable to remove your amusement. “Stop having so much fun at my expense!”

“You haven’t asked me what my thoughts are around this situation, Eunwoo.”

“Do I have to? It’s a ridiculous problem to have and I’m already struggling to navigate it myself.”

“We could do it together,” you offered airily, not quite meeting his gaze. “You know, like a team.”

“A team?”

“Yeah, we could work on extending your comfort zone whilst in my company. I’m sure the more time we spend together, you’ll find your footing again. Attraction only bothers people with a crush temporarily.”

Eunwoo glanced around the café before shooting you an exasperated look. “A crush?! Y/N, come-”

“I could take away the crush aspect of your problem, if you want, Eunwoo. Who’s to say I don’t have one too?”

Eunwoo stared at you dumbfounded until he started to grow dizzy. Yearning for fresh air, he barely breathed out an excuse me before dashing for the exit, walking briskly down the sidewalk whilst breathing in deeply.

You caught up to him a moment later. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Not usually,” he replied with a side glance in your direction. He couldn’t help but scrunch up his face when he realised the itch in his palm to reach out for yours.

He pocketed his hands deeply into his jeans.

“So you like me. And perhaps I like you.”

Eunwoo stopped walking and stared at you imploringly. “Did you like me before or after I admitted to being bothered by you?”

“Does it matter?”

“You’re just stunned because a guy said some nice things.”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” you corrected and stepped closer. “I haven’t met someone who I can easily talk to right away like you. Normally I’m really reserved. Plus, I can’t deny that you’re rather handsome, either.”

Eunwoo couldn’t help but laugh then. “So normally we’re both different from how we’re representing to one another now.”

“It means something.”

“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” he warned and you shrugged.

“Did I say I was in love? I just suggested we explore this. I’ll help you get over this issue you’re dealing with and see if what I feel is something worth acting upon. What do you say?”

Eunwoo sighed and after a moment’s thought, he nodded. “That sounds like the best option we have.”

Much to Eunwoo’s surprise, your idea worked well. It took enduring through another two weeks of less than stellar performances from him in class before he found the rhythm needed to be productive at your side. And because this was achieved by spending all his time in between classes with you, you were now efficient study buddies. You bounced ideas off one another, even with your other subjects that you didn’t take together. Eunwoo was also able to spend hours just reading across from you and whilst he still had moments where he stopped and stared or felt his heart racing, he was no longer incapable.

The physical reactions hadn’t stopped though. If anything, they had intensified. He would often find himself itching to reach out for you and sometimes he did that, relishing in the moment of connection. Holding your hand or letting you lean against him when you grew tired at the end of a cramming session made Eunwoo feel more in control of the reactions. He was empowered every time he gave into them.

And that made him realise that things had progressed in his mind further than just a crush.

“What are you doing over the weekend?” you asked during lunch and Eunwoo glanced up at you and shrugged.

“Probably nothing aside from a bit of study.”

“Nothing?” you asked and then shook your head. “That won’t do!”

“Being lazy and not attending school sounds like it’ll do just fine,” he admitted with a smirk and you rolled your eyes impatiently.

“But you could do more than that.”

“I could?” he wondered, looking at you curiously. “Like what?”

“We could go to the arcade or see a movie or-”

“Like a date?” he interrupted and you clamped your mouth shut, giving a small shy nod. He grinned. “Did you just try to ask me out on a date, Y/N?”

“Well you’re taking forever to do so and I just thought that it would be nice to spend time together outside of the university campus and explore more of what this feeling is between us.”

It was his turn to be delighted at your expense, chuckling when you started to grumble incoherently. Eunwoo leaned towards you with another smirk. “When will you pick me up?”

“You’ll go out with me?” you breathed and then a smile grew on your lips. “Really?”

“You’ll have to be prepared for me though. I’ve barely been holding back these last few days from you. If we’re going on a date, who knows what will happen.”

Actually, it wasn’t much different from daily life at your side. So far, you had enjoyed the arcade together and even saw a comedy that made his sides hurt from too much laughter. Now he was holding your hand and swinging it lightly as you ate ice-creams walking alongside the river. Conversation had flowed freely as had the smiles. Eunwoo was pretty sure the corners of his mouth were going to ache tomorrow after how much he’d curled his lips up in pleasure today with you.

Still, there was something that was different.

All day long, he had wanted to kiss you. At little moments, like when you grinned up at him after winning a game you’d tried several rounds on at the arcade. Or when you offered him a piece of popcorn and he had stared at you instead. You had even let him try your ice-cream flavour and for a second, Eunwoo had contemplated the age-old technique of kissing you to taste it instead.

Yet he held back each time, searching for a better moment.

“I guess I should take you home,” you mentioned once your ice-creams were finished, looking up at him with an unreadable expression. You then smiled when he laughed.

“I can’t believe you held to your end of the deal.”

“Well, I did ask you out on this date. Gender roles mean nothing in the modern age. A woman can pick a guy up and drop him off at his front door after an enjoyable time together.”

“You going to kiss me goodnight too then?” he wondered cheekily, only realising what he said a moment after.

Before he could apologise for the impromptu response, you were already slyly grinning up at him. “Maybe I should. Then one of us would have acted upon it.”

“You noticed?”

“How could I not?!” you exclaimed, shifting in closer. “You basically stared at my lips more than any other guy has before.”

Eunwoo rubbed his neck awkwardly. “Hah, I guess so.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been doing the same too. Wondering when I’d get to feel them against my own mouth.”

Eunwoo reached out to cup the side of your face, searching your eyes momentarily before leaning down towards you. He hesitated but not because he was nervous.

Watching as you fluttered your eyes shut when he was mere inches away from your face, Eunwoo’s heart started to thump noisily in his chest. He felt a surge of emotions wash over him as if he had already kissed you and had fallen trap to your enchanting ways. He witnessed the pursing of your lips, waiting for his own.

This moment.

This was more than he had ever experienced before in his life. He had dated girls when he was younger and even held a relationship for over a year during high school. But all of that paled to the way you willingly wanted him now.

It urged him to take your lips with his own, overwhelming all his senses. The kiss was soft, caressing right down to his soul. As he pulled you closer and deepened the embrace, Eunwoo knew he wouldn’t kiss anyone quite as well as he were you. Much as he tried to label the first moment, he searched through his mind for the reason why you made him feel like this now.

He couldn’t come up with any ideas that fitted perfectly, but your mouth sure felt as if it were made to be against his.

Finally, you stepped back, breath staggered and a hand upon your heaving chest. He watched you recover, his mind swirling with thoughts of you and his body was tingling from the experience.

“You’re beautiful,” he confessed and you eyed him again, a giddy smile crossing your swollen lips.

“And you’re mine now, right?”

Mine. Maybe that was the term Eunwoo was searching for. He nodded. “I’m yours.”

_________________

Part 3

[ASTRO Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

#kwritersworldnet #cha eunwoo #eunwoo fiction #eunwoo fanfic #eunwoo fluff #eunwoo romance #eunwoo au #astro #astro fiction #astro fanfic #astro fluff #astro romance #astro au #pwyl; labelling love #love in four ways collab #kpop fiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #kpop romance

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taetaespeaches · 4 years

Text

“I don’t know where we go from here, Dear.”

jimin x reader (or oc) genre: fluff; angst word count: 1.8K

a/n: the time has come... JIMIN IS GETTING HIS GIRL BACK!!! This is the first time they see each other after he shows up at Dear’s place in, “Yeah, I’m drunk. And you’re wearing my t-shirt and I fucking love you.” So yeah, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!!!

p.s. This is sorta kinda inspired by “Until the Sun Comes Up” by Gabrielle Aplin. So yeah, do with that what you will.

YOUR hand was nearly shaking as you adjusted your seatbelt across your body. The last time you saw Jimin was a week ago when he came to apartment looking for a way to go back in time. When he asked to see you, you expected a simple dinner date or a walk along the Han River, but you had been sitting in the car for over thirty minutes now and the city was beginning to disappear behind you.

“I haven’t been this nervous since our first date,” Jimin admitted shyly, you looking across the cab at him. “Or that whole time between, you know, our first time and first date.”

You couldn’t help the grin that formed on your lips at his admission as well as the memory of how shy he was for those two days between the first hook up and first date. You were both nervous, but he was more obviously so. At least for a little while.

You went from friends to lovers overnight. It was hard to even remember what you and Jimin looked like before the extra label was added to your relationship. It was even harder to comprehend what you looked like now.

“I was nervous too,” you told him, Jimin taking a quick glance from the road to you, obviously surprised. “And now.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” you smiled. “I just hide it better.” You hid a lot of things better. Your love and your heartbreak for starters.

A tense quiet settled inside the car, the low hum of Jimin’s music buzzing throughout the cab. You let the silence persist as you turned your attention to the window as Jimin drove you both to an unknown destination.

It was a little over a month ago that Jimin broke up with you over a text. It was so unlike Jimin it scared you into action before you could even take in the purpose of the text. You desperately called him but every effort went to voicemail. After a text to Taehyung to have him check on your boyfriend, and Tae assuring you he was ok considering the circumstance, you got angry. And you refused to speak to the man until he showed up at your apartment drunk, sad, regretful, and desperate.

For weeks you wanted to blame him for the whole thing. But you knew you were to blame as well. You had been pushing him away for months before the breakup, letting your own personal struggles affect your relationship. You didn’t want to push him away, but how do you simply let another person into the fucked up hell space that is your mind? You had never before wanted a person so badly during those months as you wanted Jimin, but it was like you couldn’t, or wouldn’t, allow yourself to reach out for him. And that made him feel very insecure and unsure. He felt unloved.

As Jimin drove further and further from Seoul, completely losing the city skyline, you turned to him in confusion.

“Where are we going?” You asked, turning to look at him.

“Away,” he grinned cheekily.

You let a small chuckle slip as you looked at the road ahead of you. “Away where?”

“Away from ourselves.”

You looked back at him in response to his words. You scrutinized his face as he stared ahead, eyes focused on the road but his mind wandering through a million loud thoughts. “There you are being a poet again,” you teased, Jimin’s lips quirking into an amused smile.

You slowly looked away from him, staring ahead, waiting to see the final destination for your date or whatever it’s called when your ex-boyfriend/best friend takes you out of the city in his bid to win you back.

Several minutes passed in silence before Jimin called to you gently, “Dear?”

You hummed, looking over at him, the pet name sounding so natural coming from him.

“Do you think people have to be ok before they can give themselves to someone else?”

The question should have taken you by surprise but you knew Jimin well enough to know he often had these deeply personal and sometimes troublesome questions swimming around his mind.

You thought for a moment before shaking your head. “No,” you started, Jimin looking from the road just for a small moment to peer at your face. “I’ve started thinking lately that if you’re lucky enough to have someone and its real, you have to give yourself to them even if you’re not ok.”

He forced a small smile though his eyes became glassy in the dashboard light. “I’m not ok.”

You nodded in understanding, keeping your gaze on him as his face became less clear through the tears that gathered along your lower eyelid. “Yeah, me too.” He looked over at you to see you beginning to cry and his face scrunched up as his own tears increased. “Jimin,” you whimpered.

When he sniffled you reached out to touch his forearm. “I fucked up, I kept pushing you away—”

He adamantly shook his head, telling you, “no, no, this is on me—”

“No, you needed me. And Jimin, I needed you, fuck, I wanted you, I just couldn’t—”

When a sob wracked through your body into the otherwise quiet car, Jimin quickly pulled over to the side of the road as an oncoming car sped by you.

“Dear,” he started, turning to you and pulling your hands from your face where you were wiping tears, simply holding them. “I broke up with you over a text.” He didn’t say anything more, letting his words sink in as proof to why the whole situation was his fault. You both knew he wasn’t the only one to blame, but at this point, did it even matter?

“Why did you send the text?” You asked him through your tears.

“I don’t—I don’t even know, baby, it’s—I get so insecure sometimes and I was driving myself insane on tour thinking about you and whether you love me and I just—I get so scared sometimes that you’ll just walk away.”

“I could never just walk away,” you told him defensively, but also to assure him. “I hate that I made you feel so insecure and unloved because I just love you more than anything and I should have been pouring all of that love into you.” Tears fell down Jimin’s face at your words as his hands squeezed yours tighter. “It’s going to take a while for me to forgive myself for that. A lot longer than it’s gonna take for me to forgive you.”

“Can you forgive me?” He posed, looking into your glistening eyes with his own.

“You know I can,” you whispered. “But can you forgive me?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes scanned your face. Then he brought your hand to his lips and feathered kisses to your knuckles. “I already have,” he mumbled against your hand.

Fresh tears burst from your eyes at his confession, Jimin gently placing your hands on the console just before they met your face, gently wiping your cheeks with his palms. You leaned into his touch, bringing your hands to grab his wrists.

“I don’t know where we go from here, Dear,” he softly admitted. “But you were my best friend before all the extra and I’m not giving up on us.” He paused for a moment, both of you watching each other carefully. “Even if you want to go back to just friends.”

You scoffed at the statement, Jimin pulling his eyebrows together in confusion to the sound. “Chim, we were never just friends. I don’t want to go back, I want to fix this.”

Jimin let a small smile greet his lips, the sight making you return a small one of your own. You leaned forward, dropping your head to his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your upper back, his hand finding your tricep. His palm and fingers soothed over the muscle as he told you, “We should probably get back on the road, we still have like an hour until we get there.”

“Jesus, did Taehyung show you some spot out here or something?” You asked, though you didn’t dare lift your head to look at him, afraid of losing his touch.

Jimin giggled. “Yeah, he did actually.” You fell into laughter, Jimin laughing with you as he shifted his position, his hand finding your chin and directing you to sit up and look at him.

“I don’t want to drive anymore, I just want to be here with you,” you told him and his thumb gently ran along your jaw. “Wherever we are right now, I just want to exist here with you and lose ourselves or whatever you said earlier in your poetry recital.”

He flashed you a stunning smile and nodded. “Ok, but,” he started, craning his body to reach for something in the backseat, “do you still,” he sat back in his seat holding a couple of long thin plastic packages up for you to see, “want to play with these?”

You reached for the packages in realization. “Oh my god,” you giggled, inspecting the sparklers. “Of course I do.”

Within a matter of seconds, you and Jimin were out in the cool air as Jimin used a lighter to ignite the ends of your sparklers. As they fizzled with sparks, you both backed away and began waving them around.

You were spinning and laughing as Jimin giggled and drew shapes. Several cars drove past but neither of you took notice. He gave several attempts to spell your name before the sparks faded out, but he could never complete the word in time, letting out yells of playful frustration.

It felt like a dream, and he was burning so brightly in the night air, carefree for the first time in months. He was beautiful.

By the time the sparklers burned out, you were both breathless, standing a few feet from one another, staring at each other. He walked toward you and when he was close enough, you gripped the material of his shirt and pulled him to you. Wrapping your arms around his waist, his secured themselves around the back of your head.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, but it was the closest you felt to him in months, and him you, and neither of you wanted to let go of that. Only time would tell how long it would take for things to feel normal, or whether normal was even a possibility. Maybe a new normal was in the making.

All you were certain of was you were willing to travel through the unknown, as long as he was by your side. And you weren’t letting go of the night. Not until the sun came up.

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angelhummel · 3 years

Note

They deliberately tried to make Blaine out to be the “man” or alpha gay in the Klaine relationship in season 2 and 3, but then did everything they could to change that around in 4 to 6

Oh boy did I hate that. And honestly I don’t think Kurt or Blaine would subscribe to those cliche and inaccurate ideas in the first place. I mean DWS is one of my absolute favorite episodes. I love the Klaine drama (and I don’t side with either of them in that fight js) but I think that bit was some piss poor writing. I said it before that even tho I am not a gay man, I think I can feel confident in saying that a gay man’s goal is not to attract as many women as possible lmao. Like what does it matter that girls wanted to date Blaine omg

Random but the guy who wrote this episode also wrote the episode with the scene where Finn makes two girls hand over their bikini tops as payment to get into a party so... I hate this writer lmao

Honestly the whole man/woman top/bottom alpha/omega dichotomy bullshit applied to these two characters is insane. Both characters are complex, layered, fluid, varied, and it’s impossible to stuff them into one of two boxes in any situation.

I actually think it’s pretty beautiful the way their trajectories went, both separately and together. From the start, Kurt was in a vulnerable place. He was softer, more emotional. Blaine seemed to have everything together. He was pretty much top dog at Dalton, he was sure of himself, confident, and in a position to help Kurt. And he did. So Blaine got to nurture Kurt and Kurt got to grow out of his shell

S3 I’ve already said is complete bullshit. They make so many jokes about Kurt being ugly, femme, weak, etc. While showing Blaine all muscly and sweaty and boxing on multiple occasions. But also Blaine’s third most serious plotline that season was about his hair so... idk what that says about anything lol

Anyway then around s4 is when things started to switch. Kurt was branching out on his own, carving out his own niche, and growing more confident on his own. Blaine was feeling like an outsider at McKinley, didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere anymore. And friends telling him to get over it, and stop bumming them out, which is pretty harsh. And of course he carried those issues with him to NY because they never really got resolved. Proposing to Kurt didn’t solve everything. And in NY he had the added stress of body issues. And he felt like he couldn’t keep up with Kurt, and that Kurt would leave him behind one day.

And honestly I hate people that complain about later seasons Blaine. Like everything he went through made sense for his character. Natural and normal insecurities. Also like I have to laugh at people literally thought policing Blaine, calling him toxic for thinking a bad thing one time. It’s hilarious. But also pisses me off. Anyway I love both my boys, I love both their stories, together and separate.

And arguing over who’s the “alpha” or who’s the man and who’s the woman is nothing but toxic hetero bullshit ideals that don’t apply to these characters bc they’re two men in a gay relationship. Even if it’s what the show tried to push (which, yeah, I do think it often was) it doesn’t matter who was more stoic or strong or emotional or vulnerable bc they’re both two complex individuals who don’t fit in any stereotypical boxes and can’t be summed up with one or two cliche labels.

Anon this probably sounds kind of angry but I swear it’s not directed towards you lol. I agree that the show did try to push that idea, but I also don’t think it means the fandom has to subscribe to those ideas just because. We can just enjoy two complex, interesting characters who love one another xx

And just remember every time you argue over who’s the man and who’s the woman in a same-sex relationship, you’re letting the hets win. Don’t do that ♡

#glee #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #klaine #my thoughts #asks #answered #long post #Anonymous

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turbulentt · 4 years

Text

Sweet Little Thing

genre: smut | yeosang x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), praise kink

event: valentine’s day prompt ask by @svt-mangos

summary: a new bakery opens at your city and you find yourself mesmerized by how amazing their cakes are, yet it’s their waiter, kang yeosang, who catches your eye first.

It was your first time going to that bakery. It had just recently opened and some of your friends told you how amazing their desserts were, you just had to try them. The looks attracted you right away. All the colors, smells, sizes. You felt like entering a wonderland.

“Don’t just stand there.” the waiter giggled beside you “Order something.”

“But they’re so many. I can’t choose.” you drew closer to the cake showcase and hummed in confusion.

“Let me help then. Go for the strawberry angel food cake.” he points at the sugary pink cake “It’s really sweet. I think it goes well with you.”

For the first time, you look at him, in surprise by his flirt. Time seemed to stop when you locked eyes with each other. Maybe you did enter wonderland. Do wonderlands have princes? Well, this one had, and he was standing right there before you.

“Do… Do you want it?” he asked, not so flirty nor confident this time. “Want what?” you bluntly responded, not paying the minimum attention. “The cake. Do you want to taste that cake?”

“Oh, the cake right.” you free yourself from the thoughts and smile awkwardly “Sure. I’m going to sit over there. Oh and a cappuccino please.”

He smiles and leaves to prepare your order, while you just head to a table near to the window. After that encounter, you just had to sit down and recover your senses. You had never seen him before. Not in university nor anywhere in that city. You would remember if you did, certainly, such a pretty face like that is hard to forget.

Once again he approaches your table and you feel your heart rhythm fasten as if he wanted to run away. You watch him place the cake in front of you, and then your drink. Something in the way his blond hair was held by two baby blue hair clips turned him even more charming. While lost in your own world you didn’t notice how the boy looked at you too.

“Would you like something else?” he smiles.

“No, thank you.” and it’s when he’s preparing to leave that you decide to take the first step “Actually..”

“Yes?” he gazes back at you and you can clearly see a glimpse of hope shining in his eyes.

“I’d like to know your name,” you admit shyly but he seems to enjoy it a lot. “Kang Yeosang.” he points at his name tag and you chuckle. “Sorry, I didn’t pay much attention to that.“

"I wonder why.” tilts his head to the side making a pensive face “Maybe you just were too distracted looking at my face."

Your eyes widen in surprise and a hint of red grows in your cheeks. You shyly mumble an apology and Yeosang laughs sweetly.

"Don’t be sorry. I liked it. I think you were too distracted to even realize I was looking at you the same way.” he smiles.

His confidence seemed to have boosted and you couldn’t help but smile at his statement. That means something, right? Because you could really kiss his beautiful lips right that instant.

“I hope you enjoy your food.” he suddenly goes back to his waiter state and points at the cappuccino “I hope you like that cappuccino. It comes with a surprise."

You look at him in confusion and Yeosang just waves as he walks away. What did he mean by surprise? Did he put something in the drink? How lucky could you be to meet a nice handsome boy yet he would just drug you? Too many scenarios. Maybe there really is a good surprise.

Warily you just take a sip of the drink, which seems to be fairly normal. Shaking your thoughts away, you just have a normal meal, being delighted by how heavenly that cake tastes. Your friends were right. You could feel how much love the baker had put into it.

When finished, you decided to send a pic to your friends, along with a long review paragraph of how you would definitely be back to taste more of their cakes. Between the many replies you got, one of them caught your eye.

"What is that black stuff written on the cappuccino cup?"

You immediately looked at the cup and saw a couple of lines coming from under the bakery label. Curiously you rip the little sticker off, only to show a cell phone number and the ‘KY’ letters under it. Of course, it meant Kang Yeosang and it obviously was his number, but your mind couldn’t really process the fact that the cute waiter that had just flirted with you gave you his number.

So, after that day, besides being at the bakery most days you also texted Yeosang frequently. Both of you really enjoyed the talks you had on the phone throughout the entire dawn and, for some odd reason, Yeosang made you feel wanted. More than you had ever been.

Apart from the hours-long phone calls and your routine visits to the bakery, you two didn’t really see each other often, it could be because you don’t study in the same university, or just for the fact that you haven’t had the guts to ask him out on a date. But neither does he, well, until one day.

“Here’s your order.” he happily rushes to your table setting down the food “I have one thing to ask you.”

Taking a bite to the piece of cake you sign for him to keep talking. Curiously Yeosang had developed a way of talking to you that made you blush every two words. He would either finish his sentences with pick up lines or just softly compliment you. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy it, all his words boosted your ego, but you never knew how to respond and he would just stare at you, with a victorious smirk on his face, waiting for a response.

“Go on a date with me. This Saturday,” he said it so easily yet you were almost choking on your food. “A what?” you mumbled between coffs. “You heard me.” he chuckled “I’ve been meaning to ask but it never seems to be the right time. But I’m taking my chance with the pretty girl now.”

“You sound like a true gentleman.” you smile, awkwardly trying to hide your blushed cheeks “And where are we going?”

“Oh, that’s a surprise. Just meet me here. I leave at six so we can go together, okay?”

“Seems good. I’ll wait excitedly for it.” you smile and once again he resumes his work.

Saturday didn’t take much time to come. The week seemed to fly just for you to have your so awaited date. You still visited the bakery every day after university, but the thought of the two of you finally being able to hang out together was driving you nuts. So, on Saturday, there you were, munching something to make time for Yeosang to leave his shift.

Half an hour before, he was already looking enthusiastic passing through your table every five minutes telling you how he was almost leaving. You could only laugh at his cuteness.

You were waiting outside by the door when his shift finally ends and you only now got to see in person how good looking Yeosang is without his uniform. Not that it really matters, but his style surely helps, especially when he’s wearing a leather jacket.

“You look good.” you shyly admit referring to his clothing. “Thanks. But, don’t I always look good?” he teases you and you just decide not to fight back. “Anyway, where are we going?”

“We are going to my house.” he takes you by the hand guiding you to his car. “To your house?” you look a bit taken back by his words but he quickly eases you. “You told me once that you wanted to learn how to bake some of the cakes we have at the bakery so I thought it would be a good idea to teach you,” Yeosang explains as you both enter the car “I would do it at the bakery but my boss didn’t allow me. Since I have all the tools and ingredients at my house I figured it’d do. I hope you don’t mind, we can do something else if you want.”

“No!” you cut him off quickly “Baking seems like a fun first date.”

It didn’t take long to arrive at his place and you sure got surprised by how tidy and clean Yeosang is. Yet he doesn’t seem to be the only one living there, due to the number of jackets on the hall hanger.

“Do you share the house?” you curiously question while roaming around the living room, feeling the nice fruity smell it holds. “I do, with seven of my friends. But they’re not here today, I told them I wanted privacy.” he chuckled at his own words and guided you by the hand to the kitchen. It was starting to become a habit, holding your hand and leading you. Not that you were complaining, he has really soft and warms hands.

All of the utensils and ingredients were already set on the table which meant he had prepared it all before going to work. Realizing that, you looked at Yeosang with the most loving eyes, like you were falling in love with him. Perhaps you really were.

“What?” he smiles taking off his jacket and replacing it with his apron, giving you one right after “Are you falling for me already?”

“Let’s cook.” you cut him off and he laughs at your embarrassment. “Ok, let’s start.”

Saying it was an easy task would be a lie because Yeosang wasn’t properly the best teacher. He would simply skip some steps and not tell you what it was supposed to be done and then just laugh at your pouty expression. He would also grab your arms to explain to you how you were supposed to beat the eggs or mold the fondant, it drove you insane.

“Ok, now, carefully, put it in the oven,” he instructed and you did as told. “Are you sure I did a good job?” you asked while closing the oven’s door but you didn’t get a reply “Yeosang?”

As soon as you turn to face him your face is hit with a good amount of flour, much of it going inside of your mouth. “You’re dead,” you say playfully taking the bag of flour from his hands and throwing some on his face. And right at that instant, a war started. You ran around the table with Yeosang chasing you, both of you giggling like little children and spilling flour everywhere. You were so distracted running around that you didn’t even notice him right in front of you with his arms open, ready to catch you.

“Gotcha.” he happily sings after grabbing you in his arms. The problem was how close you two got at that moment. Both your noses rubbing each other and you could swear he was able to listen to your unsteady heartbeats. His eyes trailed up and down, switching between your eyes and your mouth.

“Can I kiss you?” that’s all he asks yet you felt like fainting. You didn’t give him a proper answer, confirming with a head gesture was enough. His lips tasted like flour, which was sort of inconvenient, but you could still taste his sweetness and feel his warmth. Yeosang didn’t rush it, it was indeed the most loving and deep kiss you have ever had and it made you feel out of this world.

When he parted his lips from yours you whined lowly, you wanted more, a lot more. He surely noticed how your expression changed and grabbed your hips to draw you closer to his body. Your legs got shaky and he smirked.

“Did I just make you wet with just one kiss, sweetheart?”

If the kiss didn’t make you, which was highly unlikely, the way his eyes darken as he said that sure did. You just looked away from him embarrassed, he has such a strong gaze, so hard to resist. Yeosang rubbed his finger on your cheek cleaning some of the flour that still covered you and leaned closer.

“We should really take a shower. What do you think?” he whispers right by your ear and his words slide quickly down to your core. “Together?” you ask innocently, obviously you knew the answer. “Of course, sweetheart. Unless you don’t want to, I’m fine with that.”

You smiled at him, touched by his gentle preoccupation with getting consent. “I would really love that.” you take the opportunity to kiss his lips again, a bit more hungrily this time. Yeosang lifted your body up, and so he carried you to the bathroom, rather clumsily since he was more focused on giving your lips attention. You giggled when he just kicked the door desperately, he was really eager to have you.

“Yeosang, put me down.” you laughed as he started to kiss your neck “I can’t shower with clothes.”

“Oh.” he laughed awkwardly and let you down to your feet, only to grab you again “I’ll take care of that.”

Every one of his moves was gentle, soft, and warm and you enjoyed every single one. It didn’t take long for him to be on his knees and face to face with your clothed core. His eyes widened at the dark wet spot on your underwear.

“You’re this wet just for me?” his finger met the stain and you whined softly. “Don’t make those embarrassing questions…”

“You’re so shy.” he chuckles. His breath comes closer to your core and your hands instantly move to his hair. Not so gently now he removes your underwear and, with the most hungry eyes you have ever seen, he lets his tongue travel between your folds. “And you taste you sweet.” his hands grab your thighs firmly to spread them more, giving him more access to play with you.

Small moans start to fall from your lips and it only fuels Yeosang’s ego. His tongue finally meets your desperate aching clit and you shake at how good it felt. He knew exactly what he was doing, playing with it at a steady pace yet sending shivers down your entire body. One of his hands releases your thighs and slowly travels to between your shaky legs.

“You’re so good for me. So beautiful.” he hums into your core “I can’t get enough of your sweet moans, baby.”

You gasp loudly when you feel two of his fingers slide inside you and coming out again. Your eyes meet Yeosang’s and you can feel how satisfied he is by eating you out like that, but the bulge in his pants started to hurt every second he didn’t give it attention.

His fingers thrust into your wetness again and he starts moving them quickly and steady as his lips are busy sucking and playing with your sensitive clit.

“Yeosang… I’m going to cum,” you mumble between pants, your head was thrown back and your breath completely unsteady. He knew you wouldn’t last longer too, that’s why he decided to stop. Before you could cum he took his fingers out and moved his mouth away from you. You whine at the sudden emptiness and look at him unsatisfied.

“Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart.” he says playfully as he stands up and starts to undress “I can’t let you cum just now.”

“Why?” you ask, quite lost on his body, devouring him with your eyes. “I want to look you in the eyes and make you mine.”

Your expression softens as you hear his words and he turns to turn the shower on. “Come, sweetie. I want to make my pretty little baby feel good a bit more.” he reaches out his hand to pull you to under the shower “And, of course, I want to hear how good you sound once I make you cum.”

His words hit the pitch of your stomach and you take no time in kissing him feverishly. You two weren’t going to play any games now, both of you needed release so much that it hurt.

While one of his hands roamed through your body, the other one was busy giving a few pumps to his needy cock. Yeosang grunted in between the kiss and it was the sexiest sound you have ever heard. You grabbed his face with both of your hands and locked eyes with him. “Yeosang, please…”

It only took you one plea to make him do as told. Without ever taking his eyes from yours he carefully slid inside you. He held himself onto the cold tiles of the bathroom wall and waited for you to give him permission to move. Taking a look down he saw the way his cock fitted perfectly inside you and grunted with satisfaction.

“Fuck, you take me so well.” his thumb caresses your lower lip “And you feel so good.”

You can only smile at his words, giving him a sign to start moving. And so he does. Unhurried he slides almost completely out of you, only to sink deep once again. And as he promised he was looking right into your eyes as he made you his’. Every hard thrust seemed much more intense with the two of you looking eye to eye and moaning each other’s names uncontrollably. The water just dripped from your bodies, taking with it all the sweat, and muffling the erotic sounds your skin made as they met each other with every thrust.

“Can you cum for me now, baby?” his words came one by one between his pants “Because I will.”

You shake your head as you felt the heat rush through your body. Your walls started to feel tighter around his cock and Yeosang was a mess just by the feeling of you clenching around him. You felt him throb him inside you and just couldn’t contain yourself anymore.

With a loud moan, you came undone on his cock and fell on Yeosang’s arms as he pulled out of you and came on his own hand. He held you close to him and played with your hair until you recovered your senses and were finally able to stand up.

“Now we should really take a shower.” he laughs and you join him.

Like the gentlemen he is, Yeosang made sure you were all cleaned, from the flour and the cum, and his aftercare actually felt really good.

As you both were stepping out of the shower something in your head clicks and you look at him.

“The cake!” it was most likely all burnt by now.

#kpop #kpop smut #smut #ateez smut #ateez #ateez yeosang #kang yeosang #yeosang #yeosang smut #yeosang imagines #kpop imagines #imagine #ateez imagines

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gayenerd · 3 years

Text

This interview was the cover story for the 17th issue of Jaded In Chicago. It was conducted in September of 2004, several weeks prior to the release of American Idiot. It was a fitting end to the fanzine that was named after the band, as “Jaded In Chicago” references Green Day’s 1994 MTV concert special. To come full circle by interviewing the band that inspired the zine’s moniker was somewhat surreal.

With the release of American Idiot, Green Day has transcended punk rock. By crafting the first punk rock opera and fashioning what is likely the first tasteful concept album of the new millennium, they’ve provided pop punk bands everywhere with a blueprint for how to mature gracefully. Additionally, as much as American Idiot is about innovation, it’s also a return to the fundamentals of punk rock. The album sears with dissent, takes aim between the eyes of the Bush administration and contains a dangerous sense of unpredictability. It’s been ten years since Green Day was the most popular band in the world and with any luck American Idiot will allow them to recapture that title in no time. (Interview with drummer Tré Cool).

Bill – Before we talk about American Idiot, I wanted to discuss the infamous “lost” album first. About a year and a half ago, you guys recorded what was to be the follow-up to Warning, but reportedly the master tapes were stolen. What can you tell me about what happened?

Tré – We just knew that if it ever came out, we couldn’t do any of those same songs on the actual record. If somebody puts it out, like crappier versions of the songs, it’s going to totally ruin it. Plus, it happened right around the same time that Billie wrote the song “American Idiot” and most of “Holiday.” We were in the middle of working on those songs, so we just decided not to look back and we kept going forward.

Bill – I’ve read that you feel American Idiot is “maximum Green Day.” Why exactly do you feel this way?

Tré – Well, because we’re firing on all cylinders, ya know? Everything about even just being in the band now feels so right. Everything from the recording process to the live shows to our ambitions. This might sound kind of dumb, but even the clothes we’re wearing during photo shoots. It’s more together like a band.

Bill – People are certainly expecting this record to be political, but I think they’re going to be surprised when they hear how you really go for the throat with some of the lyrics. Examples of this would of course be the title track and also the breakdown section of “Holiday.” What are some of the main reasons why you’re so pissed off with this country?

Tré – It’s more like confused and jaded, if you will, (laughs). The bombardment of bullshit, fake news, like Fox News and CNN. All the reality-based shit that’s on television, stuff like Fear Factor that the government is using to keep everybody like good little sheep and not asking too many questions. It’s like how if a cop hears you use the word “terror” it basically means he can take any normal American citizen’s rights away from them. A cop can do that at his or her discretion if they think you might be a terrorist or whatnot. The whole Patriot Act. It’s like do we actually have any rights after all? We don’t have the right to a proper election, we already found that out. The fabric of our government right now is basically just made out of one hundred dollar bills that are drenched in oil. As far as this upcoming election goes, I know that John Kerry is extremely conservative and he’s nowhere near the liberal we need in the White House to clean up the mess. However, he’s not George Bush. Kerry’s money is in ketchup. Bush’s money is in oil and blood. I’d choose ketchup over that, (laughs).

Bill – How do you hope people react to these songs?

Tré – I hope they can look past the strong language and go into the meaning of it. I hope they realize there’s a bit of sarcasm. I hope they don’t feel that we’re telling them what to do. We’re just sort of pointing the fingers at ourselves, saying like “I don’t want to be an American idiot or I don’t want to be a part of this bullshit.”

Bill – Talk about the character called “Jesus of Suburbia.” What sort of journey does he embark on throughout these songs and what made you choose this type of format for your songwriting?

Tré – The album is sort of like a timeline of his life. Depending on where you’re at with your life, you probably fit somewhere on that timeline yourself. Whether it’s the “Holiday” party stage, or the “Give Me Novacaine” drug stage or the “Extraordinary Girl” being in love stage; all these different stages in life show that what paths you choose will inevitably lead you somewhere. It’s not necessarily the happiest ending in the world, but it’s pretty realistic.

Bill – Are you at all worried about some of your fans possibly being alienated by the two nine-minute rock operas found on the album?

Tré – I don’t think they’ll even notice they’re nine-minute songs. They’ll think they’re a bunch of short songs put together. It’s definitely short attention span theater. It’s not like Wilco, where they have a ten-minute song with the same drumbeat and the same chord progression. Not saying anything bad about Wilco, they’re a fine band. They’re great to relax to and drink iced tea to, (laughs). I think we’d get bored doing that. We just sort of get to the point, say what we want to say and move on to the next part of the song. The way the energy flows in the songs is sort of like the way America is now too, just so scattered. There’s a big misrepresentation of how we feel in this bullshit climate right now.

Bill – One of the most important topics you address on this record is the American media. Specifically, how it perpetuates fear amongst the public and does little to question the President’s follow-through on his promises. Do you think the average American is aware of how the wool is being pulled over their eyes?

Tré – No, not at all. Say you see some guy driving down the street with a Bush/Cheney sticker on his Chevy S-10, beat-up truck with a pair of flip-flops hanging off the back. I want to ask him, “Why the fuck are you a Republican? What’s in it for you, dude?” Bush isn’t doing a thing for those people. He’s not helping them get a better truck or put food on the table. He’s not going to give them a tax break. Republicans don’t care about you. They’re not going to try and help you in any way. They just want to use you and get your dead peasants insurance once you’re gone.

Bill – Tell me about the upcoming club dates that you have scheduled where you plan to perform American Idiot in its entirety. Who came up with the idea and what are you looking forward to most about it?

Tré – I’d credit Pete Townshend with the idea. We’ve always admired The Who and their lack of inhibition as far as going for whatever crazy idea they had. As crazy as something like Tommy was when it was just a small idea, compared to what it’s become now, it’s pretty insane. They did A Quick One, where they played that live. That was a quick one, but ours is an hour. Basically, we just want to kick The Who’s ass. I listened to Who’s Next yesterday, which a lot of people are comparing American Idiot to. We totally got them beat. I’ve always aspired to be as good of a drummer as Keith Moon and I think I’ve fuckin’ passed by him on this record.

Bill – Roughly ten years ago, Dookie was released and went on to sell over ten million copies and become one of the most notable albums of the ‘90s. A decade later, I think you’ve constructed in American Idiot what is arguably your strongest record yet. Is there anything specific that you hope American Idiot accomplishes?

Tré – Yeah, I think it’s about time that people think of Green Day in a different light. We’re not snot-nosed kids anymore, we’re men now. I want people to think of us more as one of the mainstay supergroups of today. I’m not asking for too much, (laughs). We’re superheroes in our own minds. We think we’re really cool, why doesn’t everybody else?

Bill – What was the weirdest thing about being the biggest band in America in 1994?

Tré – I don’t think we really had time to enjoy it when it was happening. We were just trying to pay our rent and be able to make records for the rest of our lives. We didn’t know anything like that was ever going to happen. It sort of freaked us out a bit, but at the same time I was kind of busy just moving and doing it. We didn’t have time to look back since we were doing so much. By the time we had taken a break to make Insomniac it was like, “Do you guys know what you just did?” We were like, “Oh…shit.”

Bill – Earlier this year, Thick Records released the Out of Focus DVD, which featured live Green Day footage circa 1992. What are some of your favorite memories from playing at McGregor’s in Elmhurst, Illinois?

Tré – Demetri. Demetri was this male stripper that came onstage for some girl’s birthday at McGregor’s one night. They had her sit in this chair and the stripper did his thing for her. It was fuckin’ hilarious. In the middle of our show too. We took a timeout and let her get her strip on. I think that was the last time we played McGregor’s actually. I remember seeing State Street and I remember taking acid in Chicago. I remember going to the lake and wondering why all the fish were dead. I was inside Buckingham Fountain too. It was real hot out and I got in there during the Blues Fest. There were like a million people down there, but just one in the fountain. Of course this cop was like, “Get the fuck out of there! What are you thinking?” I was like, “I don’t know. I’m fried, dude.”

Bill – Do you have any comments regarding the rumors connecting members of Green Day to the mysterious band known as The Network?

Tré – The only connection is that their record was on Adeline, which is a label run by Billie Joe’s wife. That’s a few degrees of separation if you ask me. I think they’re getting a lot of mileage out of telling people they’re Green Day or pretending to be Green Day. The Network is not Green Day. Bastards.

Bill – Growing up I know that bands like the Ramones and The Who were very influential for you. What’s it like to now be one of the biggest influences on an entire generation of punk bands?

Tré – It’s kind of wild. Especially when younger bands meet you and they’re all nervous and stuff. You sort of get a little paternal with it, like “Ah…my children.” I feel like Michael Landon from Little House on the Prairie.

Bill – What has been the hardest part about achieving all the success you’ve attained?

Tré – I think you can pretty much choose what you want to deal with. You can choose for it to be difficult or you can enjoy it. It’s kind of up to the person.

Bill – After seven albums, what aspects of punk rock are still fresh and exciting to you?

Tré – I like seeing new bands. Bands that aren’t carbon-copied pop punk bands. Bands like Dillinger Four fuckin’ excite me. I think the Rock Against Bush compilation is a pretty damn good CD. There are some older bands on there that are still going strong and some younger bands that are real fresh and exciting too.

Bill – What does the future hold for Green Day?

Tré – I think whatever we put out next has got to be really fuckin’ good. After American Idiot we set the bar so high. It’s kind of like, “Now what are we going to do?”

#i've never heard of this zine before but i guess it ended in 2004 #article #articles #interview #tre cool

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