#so sorry it took so long i had to search through my fic reblog account to get these gems

[atozfic]

overdrive.

pairing. kim hongjoong x fem!reader.

synopsis. a lonely artist finds himself in need of some human contact, so he joins a dating app but with a very specific request: he doesn’t want a relationship, he wants the experience of one. when someone contacts him, interested and willing to aid him in his search for artistic inspiration, the rules quickly become simple: no real names, no personal details, no feelings. so what the hell is kim hongjoong supposed to do when he catches himself daydreaming about their future together?- or, can you fall in love with a stranger?

warnings. strangers to lovers, fake dating au (kinda?), artist!hongjoong, aged up!ateez (irl age + 5 years), angst, fluff,heavy themes of mental health, depictions of depression, trauma and anxiety, brief mentions of cheating, death, bullying, drugs and alcohol, way too many attempts at humour. smut: dom!hongjoong, sub!reader, nipple play, hair pulling, dirty talk, finger-sucking, spit used as lube, use of the word “doll”, unprotected sex, penetrative sex. 

word count. 17.8k

hyde’s input. this fic is my baby. i love it with my whole heart. it’s been in the making long before i even opened this account. all it took was listening to overdrive by conan gray once and this entire monster of a fic started to unravel in my brain. any feedback is appreciated, same goes for any like or simple reblog! if there’s any spelling mistakes, look the other way: this is 17.8k, i’ve re-read it ten times, i’m sorry!

“I don't know what you're on about, dude. It looks pretty good to me.”

Praise and positive reviews were not what Hongjoong wanted to hear. In fact, all he wanted to do in that moment was kick his own foot through the tainted canvas, until no sign remained of the painting he'd finished in the early hours of the morning; to drench the palette in whatever alcohol he could find laying around the messy studio and light it up into flames.

“I've seen your child make a finger painting better than this. Don't lie to me, Park Seonghwa!” Hongjoong groaned, slouching back in a huff as he melted further into the old leathered sofa. His head tilted back and his eyes snapped shut whilst he inhaled deeply, the offensive smell of fresh paint entering his system.

“I can't help it!” The other male exclaimed and Hongjoong could perfectly picture how he threw his hands up into the air in self-defence, eyes wide and a smile threatening to make itself known. “Being your friend comes way before being your agent, I can't help but be biased!”

Hongjoong’s eyes snapped open. “I literally pay you to not be biased!”

“Yeah, well, I think we've already established that you make mistakes.” With a sheepish smile, the older male gestured towards the canvas and Hongjoong couldn't even find it within himself to try and disagree.

He really had gambled on the fact that this one piece would turn out the way he wanted it to. The truth was, he'd known deep down the work wouldn't turn out well. Through the months of working at it, he kept his optimism up and repeated how if he just added a few more shades, a few more details, the painting would magically morph itself into exactly what he wanted from it. And now he was less than five months away from his submission deadline and missing one painting from his collection. The one which he'd promised himself would be the real kicker, the centre piece, the main character of the exhibition.

“This is hopeless, Hwa!” Sulking came easier than inspiration to the petite artist as of late, a fact which depressed him a little more than he'd ever let another person know. “I don't get what I'm missing here. The concept is so basic yet, every time I go to press brush to canvas, it's like I'm faced with a foreign language and telling myself that if I just stare a little longer, the letters will figure themselves out and I'll miraculously become fluent.”

“Because you're not feeling it, Hongjoong.”

“Feeling what?”

“The concept.” When the taller male was met with nothing but a blank expression, he gestured around with his hand and continued. “Moving on. I mean, you've been single for, what now? Sixteen months? And in that whole time, you've not even entertained the idea of meeting someone new, or even just going on a date.”

“Forgive me for not rushing to throw myself back into a relationship after my last one.” Hongjoong always hated when he failed to control his darker feelings, hating to expose how weak he actually was to things like anger, sadness, depression.

It's why he turned to art in the first place, during his teenage years, which were plagued with awful and painful experiences. Rather than facing them head-on, Hongjoong melted his emotions into colours, presented them on a plain background and worked his way into a scholarship. And, so, that's how it had always been for him. He never had to talk his feelings out, he just painted and others took what they could understand from it.

The leather squeaked under the new pressure of Seonghwa sitting next to him. Hongjoong's eyes shot to the male's lap, where he could see his friend nervously fidgeting with the ring on his left hand. Whatever Seonghwa was about to say next, he had a feeling he wasn't going to like it.

“Look, I get it. I know how hurt you were after things ended between you and...” She'd become the Voldemort of his life, everyone else around him refusing to utter her name out loud and all treating him like the fragile child who'd survived her attack and came out alive with nothing but a scar. Only, his scar was less lightning shaped and more like a cracked heart. “But don't you think it's time you try move on? You're letting... her effect you more than she deserves to. She wasn't the one for you but someone, somewhere, is. You're not going to meet them in here, you need to be outside, experiencing life, waiting for the moment you both cross paths.”

Hongjoong had always envied Seonghwa and his hopeful attitude towards love.

Of course he didn't understand, even if he claimed to. Seonghwa had never even experienced a break up, never mind heartbreak. He met the love of his life at the age of fifteen and married her at the age of twenty five, welcoming their first child together not even a year after.

“Chae wanted me to ask you if maybe you'd consider meeting a girl from her faculty.” Ah, there it was. The whole reason Seonghwa had even brought up his love life in the first place. “She's really sweet! And she's new to the city. And Chae figured, since you know all the best places here out of all of us, you'd be a great tour guide.”

“San literally works in real estate, Hwa. His job is knowing this city like the back of his hand.”

“San is also happily engaged. Come on, what is there to lose? One date, that's all I'm asking you to try.” Seonghwa whined, reminding Hongjoong of the man's child. “You need to start living life again, dude. Because this life of self pity isn't working out for you anymore, it's beginning to affect your career. Just put yourself out there and, if it goes shit, you can blame me.”

“Oh, I'll do more than blame you.”

“So, does that mean you're agreeing to it?”

Hongjoong sighed, pushing himself to stand up from the couch, his hands stinging from the dried paint and his muscles aching with the need for a warm shower. Eyeing the repulsive piece once more, he mentally cursed Seonghwa for playing the career card. He couldn't pretend the man didn't have a point, his art was in need of a new muse, sooner rather than later if he intended to not be a one hit wonder.

“Only because I really need to make that deadline.”

The evening should have been nothing short from perfect: a fresh bouquet handed to her at her front door, a pleasant evening stroll to the restaurant, a mouth-watering meal, not a moment of uncomfortable silence between the two of them. So, why did Hongjoong feel like something was missing?

It was somehow nothing and, yet, everything personal. His date, who he'd forgotten the name of two hours into the night and was now doing his best to avoid having to say it, was by all means conventionally attractive. She had a strong sense of self, the kind of woman he pictured his mother wanting for him. From the many stories she'd shared through the evening, he could tell she loved her job just as much as she loved to talk. They could work as a couple, theoretically. Hongjoong wasn't quite the talker- unless the topic of conversation pertained to one of his obscure, niche interests-, whereas she looked like she could talk for the whole republic of Korea. Her clothing was loud, colourful, a reflection of her personality. Meanwhile, his were dark, plain. She was a social butterfly, he was a solitary caterpillar.

If opposites truly did attract, she would have been his soulmate.

Hongjoong was the issue, though. Or, at least that's what he thought of himself. There he was, on a date with a beautiful woman who was doing her best in life, thriving both socially and in her career. Meanwhile, he was a burnt out artist who rarely found the motivation to wash his hair and had seven friends, only one which he'd actually gone out of his way to make himself and that was in high school. He felt irritated by her perfection, by his inability to have his life put together in that same way. Only a few years away from hitting thirty, and what did he have to show for himself? A single exhibition in his whole career and a one bedroom apartment he'd been living in since college? The girl across from him deserved better than what he had to offer.

“...long story short, that's why Chaeyoung found me crying in the toilet on my first day.” Her flirtatious laughter attracted stares from surrounding tables. None malicious but all wondering why the poor girl's date seemed so miserable in the presence of someone so bubbly. “Speaking of toilets, I'm just going to go freshen up. Don't miss me too much.”

“No promises.” He smiled up at her when she rose from her seat, the guilt in the pit of his stomach growing heavier with each passing second.

As she disappeared from sight, Hongjoong sighed. Out of relief, sadness, exhaustion? He couldn't quite put his finger on it. The events of the evening were pushed aside as he let his eyes trail around the restaurant's interior. The whole place had been refurbished since the last time he'd been.

The last time he'd stepped foot in the restaurant, the whole place was made up of different shades of blue. The walls, the seats, the tablecloths. Walking in felt like being slapped in the face by a raging ocean. When it came to his art, he hated the colour blue. But he'd put up with it in that restaurant because she always liked the service there.

Now, the restaurant had changed hands and the new owner clearly had a more minimalistic approach to things. The walls were a mirage of beige, an elegant design printed on the selected wallpaper. The furniture was a combination of black metals and wooden tops and, where a bunch of cheap chandeliers had once hung, a selection of fairy lights entwined with strings of fake leaves rested above everyone's head. If Hongjoong tried hard enough, he could picture his ex sat across from him in that moment, nose turned up while she failed to quietly bash the rugged look of the restaurant.

Clearing his throat, Hongjoong finished off the remnants of his drink. He figured taking this time to ask for the bill was the least he could do. His date had put in all the effort of conversation, he should be the one to cover the cost of the evening. Between waiting for the bill, and waiting for his date to return, his eyes drifted across the room to another couple.

It wasn't the girl's striking beauty nor the male's loud booming laughter that had caught his interest. It was the way they seemed the opposite of him and his date: the girl looked bored to death and the man seemed to only pause from talking to shovel a fork full of pasta into his mouth, not even waiting to swallow before speaking again. Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, hands occupying themselves with his napkin, more than sure that he was seeing exactly what other customers had seen when they looked at him and his date.

In another life, where everything was a rom-com and romance wasn't the root of all misery, Hongjoong would believe this girl was his soulmate, both of them destined to meet at the bar as they attempted to escape their talkative dates- who would likely be destined to meet that same evening too. Maybe they'd have a joint wedding, all laughing when they thought of the times they'd tried to end up with the other's spouse.

Instead of heading to the bar, Hongjoong payed the bill and, when his date returned, they both walked out of the restaurant; her a few steps ahead of him while he took one last glance at the opposite couple.

The walk back to her place was a little less awkward for Hongjoong than the rest of the evening, the prospect of finally being able to go back to the safe place that was his apartment giving him a buzz of energy. She'd asked him questions about the city, mostly just about the best places to go for specific things, and he'd answered her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket while hers swung freely at her side. Every couple of swings, he'd wonder if she was waiting for him to take a hold of it, intertwine his fingers with her own.

They arrived at her door and the echo of the nightlife around them was starting to pick up, people just beginning their evening together while they two were bringing theirs to an end.

“Thanks for tonight. I really... appreciated your company,” He internally groaned. He sounded like he was closing a business meeting, not saying goodnight to a girl he'd just went out with. “you're a really nice girl. It's been nice meeting you.”

“It was really nice meeting you too!” There it was again, that twinge of hatred towards her. She was just so happy, Hongjoong envied her.

“I'm really sorry for wasting your time.” A hand shot up to rub at the back of his neck, fingers brushing over the bottom of the mullet he'd grown in the months of heartbreak. “I'm just, not really looking for anything with anyone right now? It's nothing personal.”

“Hey, no worries! In all honesty, this was more about just going out in the city. It's not easy being the new kid in town!” The smile never faltered from her face, not even at her next words. “Chaeyoung may or may have not explained a little bit of your situation to me and, I know my opinion as a stranger might mean nothing to you, and I totally respect that, but let me just say this. I think you're a really nice guy. A cool guy, with a lot to offer. You just seem to have forgotten who that guy is, which is a shame. I'd really like to be friends with him.”

“I,” He paused, a little stunned and unsure of what he should say. He'd been told similar things from friends, and it was easy to brush off. But, coming from this girl who barely knew him yet had read him so easily? It was hard. “yeah. I'm trying to remember, I think. Thanks for saying that. And for tonight. Hopefully you don't mind being stuck being friends with whoever I am right now.”

A colourful string of curses pierced the air of the apartment. Hongjoong pulled back from the sizzling pan, wishing he could punch the him from ten minutes ago who thought it was a smart idea to cook bacon in nothing but his underwear.

Growing into his own skin was something that had taken him years to achieve. He'd always been on the shorter end of height amongst those in his class, which hadn't helped with the singled-out bullying he endured in his formative years. There's only so many times a person, especially an impressionable teenager, needs to be told their supposed short-comings before they begin to believe it's all that defines them. He'd learnt to love himself through watching her love him, following in her footsteps like a baby duck followed it's mother. Out of everything the relationship had left him with- the heartbreak, the trust issues, the betrayal- he was happy it had brought him self-love.

The self-love that made him confident enough to lounge around in his boxers though? Yeah, that could get lost, as far as he was concerned.

His ringtone began to play, to which the already frustrated, and admittedly sleep deprived, Hongjoong groaned as he walked around the kitchen island into the living area. Like always, he found the damned device buried within the creases of his couch.

Seonghwa was calling him.

Hongjoong hit decline.

It was ten minutes past noon, he'd barely been awake for half an hour and his skin had already been tainted with burns from the oil spat at him by his pan. There was not a chance in hell, purgatory or heaven that he was about to answer and listen to his friend barrage him with questions about how the date went. Hongjoong wasn't ready to listen to the hopeless romantic in Park Seonghwa try to find moments of hope in the terribly mundane evening him and the girl had shared.

No second date would be happening, a fact which comforted Hongjoong. A weight had been removed from his chest, that sinking feeling gone. The accomplishment of having done what Seonghwa had asked of him, no matter the end result, was a small success in his books, a step in the right direction out of his cycle of misery. However, that one step didn't mean he was ready to run a marathon.

If Hongjoong really was going to walk the path back to his old self, or carve a new one, he'd be doing it on his own terms and at his own pace.

The influx of buzzing from his phone took his attention once again, this time coming from a familiar group chat. Hongjoong had told himself to mute it yet always forgot to.

[12:11 pm] wooshit: istg she's left me with 6 pulled muscles and a broken bed, best sex i've had in a long time.

Jung Wooyoung was one of those friends he hadn't gone out of his way to make but, rather, he just turned up one day in Hongjoong's life, slapping him on the ass and asking him if he would mind painting a nude portrait of him.

[12:13 pm] yeolo: you say that every time you have sex.

[12:14 pm] wooshit: kang yeosang stop being salty about me getting my dick wet challenge: failed.

Yeosang had been the one to blame for introducing Wooyoung to the group and, though he too was technically someone who simply showed up one day, Hongjoong had shared a class with him during college days.

[12:16 pm] yunhoe: honey, we need to stop befriending these hets like we're a charity.

[12:16 pm] yunhoe: oh shit.

[12:16 pm] yunhoe: did i send that here?

[12:17 pm] minki: yeah, but you're right.

[12:17 pm] minki: from now on, you guys need to pay for the service of our company.

Then there was Jeong Yunho and Song Mingi, yet another golden couple in Hongjoong's life. Like Seonghwa and his wife, they'd met in school, the only difference being that they never fully accepted their feelings for each other until much later. They were the first new additions to Hongjoong and Seonghwa's life, the four sticking together after ending up sharing a dorm.

[12:22 pm] wooshit: i don't even pay for netflix, what makes you think i'd pay for you?

[12:23 pm] yeolo: idk how he keeps accessing my account, i've changed my password over six times!

[12:23 pm] jongno: adding another number at the end of hehet doesn't count as changing your password, yeo.

The latest friend among them all, Choi Jongho, was dragged into their mess by Seonghwa, who'd contacted him about singing at his wedding. Somehow, the night had ended with the lot of them embarrassing themselves on the mic during various rounds of drunken karaoke, while Chaeyoung looked on, unamused by her new husband's antics.

[12:26 pm] sanwitch: am i the only one still wondering how tf woo convinces these women to sleep with him?

If there were a voice of reason among them all, it certainly wasn't San. After meeting his fiancé, he'd tried to play off like he'd matured but they all knew he was still Wooyoung's double, one half of their dumb and dumber act.

[12:27 pm] wooshit: i don't appreciate your tone.

[12:28 pm] wooshit: i'm a suave casanova. a modern gentleman. ladies fall at my feet when i wink.

[12:29 pm] yeolo: he's on a hook up app.

[12:29 pm] wooshit: hate it here.

[12:30 pm] wooshit: it's not a hook up app, it's a dating app. the best one, actually.

[12:30 pm] yeolo: a dating app for horny singles.

[12:31 pm] wooshit: hey! horny singles want love too!

[12:34 pm] minki: what's so good about it anyway?

[12:36 pm] wooshit: i'm glad you asked, mingles.

[12:37 pm] yeolo: oh no, here we go.

At some point, Hongjoong had reclined himself against the arm of his couch, slowly but surely sinking into it whilst his eyes and thumbs scrolled over the screen. It wasn't like he had any intentions of join the conversation. No, that would risk Seonghwa seeing him online. The conversation was nothing special either compared to the countless other ones they'd spammed the chat with. Still, a magnetic force was pulling Hongjoong to keep reading, to pay attention.

[12:43 pm] wooshit: the app let's you choose who gets to see your private info, like your name, age, etc...

[12:43 pm] wooshit: so users just see your pictures and whatever description you write, until you approve them to see more. it's great, filters out people who're looking for anything long term.

[12:49 pm] sanwitch: isn't it weird to hook up with people and not know who they are?

[12:52 pm] yunhoe: not to mention, dangerous?

[12:53 pm] wooshit: that's the fun part!

[12:53 pm] wooshit: this is why i fear relationships.

[12:54 pm] wooshit: it's turned the two biggest man whores i knew into boring, dick/pussy whipped losers.

[12:58 pm] yeolo: wait, so what's the app called?

[13:03 pm] jongno: don't do it, yeo.

[13:05 pm] wooshit: stfu jongho.

[13:05 pm] wooshit: yeo don't listen to him, baby.

[13:06 pm] wooshit: the app's called checkmate.

[13:08 pm] jongno: can i just be the one to remind wy he's less than a year away from hitting 27?

[13:10 pm] yunhoe: don't join the dark side, yeo. you're better than that.

[13:04 pm] wooshit: yeo used to think darth vader was hot, he's always been on the dark side, yunho.

An offensive beeping rang out in the room, startling Hongjoong and sending him catapulting out of his seat, a hand clutching his chest. His heart was beating a thousand miles per minute. In a state of panic, he began to recount the safety measures she'd instilled in him for whenever the fire alarm went off. It was only once his eyes had settled on the fire extinguisher that a rather offensive smell hit his nose, his shoulders slumping in disappointment.

His bacon had burnt.

There was something he despised about arriving early to things.

For starters, it made him panic that he'd gotten the days mixed up, more often than not finding himself unlocking his phone and aiming straight for his calendar. After confirming the plans aligned with the select day, he'd check the text history with whoever he was meeting, in case he'd written it down incorrectly in his phone.

Moving on from there, Hongjoong would fall down a spiral of believing everyone in the surrounding vicinity had their eyes on him. In his mind, they were all questioning why he was alone, what was he doing, if he was just a complete loner. He solved this by occupying himself with his phone, scrolling through his gallery or aimlessly rereading conversations in the Teezers group chat.

It would soothe him for a while, until his brain found something else to worry about: being stood up. The overwhelming feeling of abandonment was something he carried close to his heart, sneaking out at the minimum sign of someone not arriving for an arranged meeting. There were times, when he'd arrive first out of the Teezers, that his own fear was strong enough to convince himself that all seven of the boys had collectively agreed to not meet up and to leave Hongjoong waiting.

Right now, he was experiencing the second stage.

With half a cup of coffee left and a shredded napkin in his anxious hands, Hongjoong was doing his best to limit the number of times his eyes wandered over to the entry of the café. Eventually, the napkin was replaced by his phone, cringing as he forgot to turn his volume down before he opened the app. He would be more than ashamed if someone in the café recognized the app's signature tune, fearing the judgement he'd receive for being on such a site.

Hongjoong hadn't told anyone he'd joined Checkmate, not even his friends. Was it partially out of fear of judgement? Yes, the judgement from finding out the real reason he'd signed up.

Two weeks had passed since he'd set up his profile and he was still blaming it on a moment of weakness, born from lack of sleep, mild dehydration and the paint fumes he'd been inhaling indirectly all day in his studio. The feeling of needing a new muse returned to him, stronger than any previous time. Without much thought, Hongjoong had unlocked his phone, memories of Wooyoung and his self-proclaimed "best dating app" at the front of his mind. And, though Hongjoong had always despised the concept of a dating app- he much preferred the old fashioned way of falling in love, the artist in him seeking out that moment of fate where one gazed across a room and caught the sight of someone magnetic, someone they needed to meet-, the app was ideal for what he wanted.

He squirmed in his seat, turning the brightness of his screen down as his dating profile flashed onto it. He'd uploaded exactly three images of himself: one of him sat in a car, adorned with a beret and a camera in hand; another taken of him across a table, back when his hair was red and his eyes were happier; the last was a selfie he'd taken in an elevator with his face covered by a mask, he'd hoped it wasn't too obvious his ex had been cropped out of it.

Taking another sip of his coffee, Hongjoong grimaced as he read over his profile description.

this may sound strange but i'm not looking for a relationship or a casual hook-up. what i really need is someone to experience things with, experiences that my friends are too exhausting to give me and my family is too judgemental. i don't want to know you, and i don't want you to know me. i just want us to live a few moments together, as strangers. call them dates if you want, i don't care. maybe you don't understand what i'm asking for, maybe you think this sounds like a scam that ends with you dead. that's fine, you're not the person for the job, please move on from my profile. but, maybe you're like me and the past months have been you living in autopilot, waking up because you have to, not because you want to. maybe your friends are just like mine and they've told you to put yourself out there more or that they miss the old you. this is both of our chances to change that, to be our old selves again or become a newer, better version. if that's the case, message me but don't let me see your private info. be my stranger.

Given it's contents, he was amazed anyone had messaged him. Maybe he'd been hoping to get no response. He'd be able to remain sedated with the fact he'd tried, leaving him the perfect excuse to not do so again for a while.

But someone had replied. The person, from the few pictures Hongjoong had been permitted to view on their profile, was beautiful. To others, the word beauty could easily hold a single meaning, a specific look. To the artist, it meant everything. He had a knack for finding hidden treasures, glimpses of rarity. His fingers had itched to portrait such a face on paper the longer he'd stared at the pictures, which both terrified and satisfied him.

He'd not even met you yet and already he'd had a surge of inspiration, even if it died a few seconds later.

The third stage of arriving early was about to commence when, much to his relief, a figure sat across from him.

There you were, nervously pulling back your own seat and placing down your to-go cup. Details about your face were different in person than in pictures but it didn't diminish your beauty. No, it rather enhanced it.

“What did you order?” Hongjoong often thought someone's choice of drink could tell you a lot about them. Like how Seonghwa ordered a cortado because he was always in a rush, or how San had the habit of getting a mocha to kill two birds with one stone: satisfy the craving for coffee and chocolate, or how he himself tended to order plain black coffee to avoid any fuss for the person serving him.

“Mango tea.” Was your reply and Hongjoong wasn't sure what to make of it. In all honesty, he hadn't known there was such a thing. He really needed to start reading the menu at these places.

“Don't drink coffee?” His question was observational. Statistically speaking, didn't most people fall under the veil of a coffee or tea person, the drink version of the good old cat or dog debate?

“Only when I'm stressing.” There was something about the way you spoke to him, like you hated the small talk just as much as he did, that had Hongjoong gripping on to everything you said. Was this what it was like to speak to himself? “Sorry, not to be rude, but could we cut to the chase? I have to be back in class in,” You paused, pulling back the denim sleeve to read your watch’s face. “seventeen minutes.”

His eyes widened at the word class, like he was personally offended by it. All rational sense left, his prone-to-panic brain doing what it done best and throwing him down a spiral of dark thoughts.

“College!” You exclaimed, hands shooting up a little, your palms on display. “College class. I'm...” You seemed hesitant to speak, halting yourself mid-sentence. You knew what the man in front of you wanted and personal information was not it. “of age. Not some high school student, I swear.”

When Hongjoong gave you no reply, you continued to speak.

“Not that it really matters. We're not going to be doing anything. But still, you don't want to be... hanging out with some kid. I get it. Me neither. Yeah, I'm a college student.”

“I believe you.” Different to his previous date, Hongjoong didn't think you were much of a talker. A nervous talker, perhaps. He could relate to that a bit more. There was a humming in his veins, his body buzzing with the thrill of sitting across from a complete stranger and not having to worry about your impression of him, if he was showing all his best qualities, intriguing you to get to know him better. There never had to be a fear of you being disappointed with what you'd find in meeting the real Kim Hongjoong. “Anyway, yeah. Let's get into it quickly so you can make it back to class.”

“Okay, so you already said in our text conversation that you don't want to know any personal information.” Hongjoong nodded, affirming your statement. “What exactly do you consider personal information?”

“Anything that defines who you are. Your age, your hobbies, your hometown. Especially your name,” He finished off the last of his coffee, doing his best to ignore the bitter taste. “It's too easy to learn everything about someone these days with just their name and access to the internet.”

“Sheesh, these days? You talk like my middle-aged father.” You seemed to catch your mistake just as it left your mouth, looking off to the side momentarily before meeting his eyes again. “Shit, sorry, you just said you didn't want to share our ages.”

Hongjoong almost wanted to laugh out of pity, seeing so much of himself reflected in you yet finding you so different all at once. “Love that you apologise for that but not for insinuating that I'm old.”

“Hey, ain't no shame in a little age. I've heard having a glucose father helps cover the costs of college.”

“Glucose... father?”

“And then you wonder why I called you old?” For the first time since you'd approached the table, he saw a wave of confidence wash over you, burning in the satisfaction of whatever diss you seemed to believe you'd handed to him. “So, if we're not getting to share names, what am I supposed to call you?”

“That's... actually a good question. I didn't think that far ahead.” Before falling asleep the night before, Hongjoong had rehearsed every possible scenario he could think of regarding how this meeting would go. Hell, he'd even prepared for if you revealed mid-way that you were an alien lifeforce! He'd miraculously skimmed over how to get past the whole name situation. “I don't know, I guess we could just tell each other fake names.”

“Or,” You drummed your hands on the table. He found it a little annoying. “we could pick out names for each other.”

“You first, then.”

Hongjoong felt the urge to sit up straight instead of his usual slouched posture at the drag of your eyes over him. It was intimidating to know you were analysing everything about him based solely on his exterior, yet it filled him with a twisted pleasure. He hoped whatever conclusion you came to about him would be incorrect, his superiority complex needing a comeback.

“Clyde.” Not a name he expected. “Cause you seem like the complete opposite of that name, but I'm also kinda suspicious that you might be some sicko waiting to make a mask out of my face.”

“Who's to say it's not you who's going to make a mask out of mine?” His eyes caught the way you checked your watch again, time running by quickly. “Then I guess I'll be calling you Bonnie, to keep things on theme.”

“Well aren't you just the little romantic?”

Hongjoong didn't want to stay in your company any longer than necessary, he really didn't. But your bus stop just happened to be in the same direction of where he'd managed to park his car. Saying goodbye at the café door only walk in the same direction would have been too painfully awkward for Hongjoong to endure, so he offered to walk you to the stop.

You both managed to come to an agreement on your schedule: every Saturday. It was the only day you had free, the rest filled with school and work. He'd felt a little guilty admitting he lacked responsibilities in that department.

Watching you walk told him more than your drink order had. You seemed to pull into yourself, shoulders kinda tight, hands in your pockets, head a little low hanging like you were watching your own steps.

Spotting the bus stop up ahead, he picked up pace. His social battery was running out, a sight no one enjoyed witnessing. But you called him to stop and, out of politeness, he felt the need to obey.

“Hold on, I'll be back in a second, I swear.”

Off you'd disappeared into a convenience store, leaving Hongjoong abandoned in the middle of the pavement. That feeling of having eyes on him returned but he survived, resisting the urge to fake being occupied by his phone. You came bustling back out, a white plastic bag at your side and a look of success on your face.

“Here, take this.” You reached into the bag, holding out a cardboard box to him. Upon inspection, he quickly realised what you'd bought. You were smarter than he'd expected, what a relief. “Now we won't even have to share our real numbers.”

Hours later, the black, clunky burner phone would buzz in Hongjoong's back pocket, a single text on the grainy screen.

from: bonnie c u on saturday, grandpa.

“Maybe this wasn't a good idea.”

Hongjoong couldn't agree with you more, a frustrated sigh falling from his lips as he struggled to pack up his stuff. In his mind, he couldn't get away from there fast enough. Momentarily, his eyes skirted over to you, satisfied to find you also packing up and throwing your bag over your shoulder, not an ounce of hesitation. The look you both shared before commencing to run made it clear you were wondering the same thing.

How the hell had the date taken such a turn?

As promised, the two of you had met on a Saturday. Hongjoong picked you up from that same bus stop you'd parted ways at, figuring it was easier than finding out what other places you localled in your free time. Upon your arrival, Hongjoong did not notice the little things that had changed about you since he'd last seen you, like the way your hair was a couple shades darker or how you'd changed your phone case.

“Looking dapper, Clyde.” You'd said, taking in his outfit when you'd stepped off the bus.

He'd always prided himself on the ways he expressed himself, whether that be through his artwork, his words or his fashion sense. There'd been a time where his wardrobe was colourful, full of oddities and unique pieces, things he'd thrifted and renovated to suit his taste more. Nowadays, all the colour in his wardrobe was hidden behind piles of whites and greys and blacks. Hongjoong felt a shot of pride run through him at your comment, standing there in black cargo pants paired with a white graphic tee and a pair of faded black Doc Martins' he'd owned for a few too many years.

It felt good to be complimented still.

“I hope you don't have any allergies.” By the time you'd both sat yourselves in his car, Hongjoong was feeling a little less tense. The initial greetings with strangers was always the hardest part.

“Is that a trick question, Clyde?”

“Not at all, Bonnie. Why? And you're having a little bit too much fun calling me that, aren't you?”

“It's a cool name!” You threw your hands up in your own defence. “I thought we weren't supposed to share private info.”

“There's private information and then there's me accidentally putting your life at risk. Now answer the question.”

“And they say romance is dead.” You shifted in your seat, one hand playing with the zip of your jacket. “As long as you don't try force feed me a strawberry, we're good.”

Hongjoong didn't point out the fact you never asked him in return, not that he did have any allergies that needed pointed out. But you seemed disinterested in knowing, in caring. 

He'd picked the right person.

The car pulled up to an empty parking lot located in front of a field, a look of realization coming over you. Taking advantage of the trance you were in, Hongjoong shot out the car and made his way around to your door, effortlessly pulling it open and greeting you with a shy smile. He was hoping you liked the plans he'd made for you both. Not because he cared for your opinion, rather Hongjoong knew he needed an influx of colours to motivate him, inspire him.

And what better place to find colour than a field of blossoming flowers?

He closed the door behind you before leading you over to the boot of the car- which sparked several jokes about him murdering you and burying you in the field- and handed you a blanket before bringing out a basket. Conversation was scarce as you two ventured over the small fence and into the flowery field, the basket swinging with each of his steps and the blanket safely clutched against your chest. The smell was sweet, overwhelmingly fresh in contrast to the stiff air of Seoul.

“This looks like a good spot,” You said, coming to a stop in an empty patch surrounded by a rainbow made up of tulips. The artist in Hongjoong itched to take your picture, the sun creating the illusion of a halo above your head and the flowers a satisfying contrast to your monochromatic clothing. The person in him didn't want to carry the burden of your image in his gallery, a temptation to think of you on days that weren't Saturdays. “you agree?”

“Uh, yeah, seems fine to me.” He wanted to curse himself for taking a few moments to reply. Surely you didn't notice.

You laid the blanket down and he laid out the food: freshly cut fruit (no strawberry in sight), sandwiches without the crust (he always found the crust too dry), chocolate dipped almonds and honey drizzled pastries (he had a sweet tooth), different flavours of milk (banana was his favourite) and bottled water.

The date passed by slowly, neither of you willing to admit you were bored. It was hard to choose a topic of discussion when you weren't supposed to get to know each other, to care for what the other thought or felt. For a while, he'd told you facts about the different flowers around you until you took over and told him about different types of clouds. And then, you caved into the awkwardness.

“Tell me something about yourself.”

“I don't want to.”

“It doesn't have to be true.” You stated like it were the most obvious thing in the world. “That's the beauty of this, right? We don't have to be honest with who we are. So, tell me something about yourself, whether it's the truth or a lie. I'll never know, either way.”

Hongjoong paused mid bite of the pastry, tongue darting out to lick at the excess honey on his lips. “I'm an accountant.”

“Because no one asks what you do?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind, boomer.”

“I'm not a boomer! I'm probably not much older than you!”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say.”

Hongjoong ignored the way peach juice dribbled down your chin as you took a bite. “It's your turn.”

“My cousin is a famous idol.”

Both of you lied.

And it worked, getting the conversation flowing a bit easier. Hongjoong enjoyed lying without the consequences that usually came along with it. It was like playing a character, no longer himself but Clyde, an accountant, career booming and social circle full. It was easier to be confident when nothing was reality.

But back to the present, where both you and Hongjoong were scrambling to grab your belongings and make a beeline for his car. A buzzing followed after you both, threatening to make you pay for intruding on the bees turf, who were hungry for nectar and not happy to find a pair of strangers sat among the flowers and eating the fruit of their labour.

Suddenly the prospect of a flower field was less romantically beautiful.

“Ow, ow, shit.” Hongjoong cursed, slamming the door to his car shut. With the adrenaline dissipating, the pain of the nasty sting he'd taken to the hand made itself known.

“Here, let me drive.” You called from the backseat, urging him to hop over to the passenger's side. Hongjoong hesitated, he didn't enjoy letting other's drive his car. But the itch in his hand only grew, leading him to give in. He grunted when you nearly elbowed him in the face while dragging yourself into the front. “Next time, let's just do something indoors.”

Hongjoong had certainly been on worse dates.

The dates continued on smoothly from there, with no more run ins with wildlife and less awkward silence each time.

You chose the second location, a pottery class, in which Hongjoong tried his best to not over-perform and you just tried to at least make a shape out of some clay. The third and fourth dates were chosen by him: a visit to a planetarium and a trust-building day of canoeing, by the end of that one, you both had nearly drank the whole lake away from the number of times you'd fallen in.

One thing remained consistent throughout. Without fail, there would come a time where one of you- usually you- would prompt the question "Tell me something about yourself."

He'd lied about being into clubbing and you lied about being a smoker.

He lied about having a sister and you lied about being fluent in four languages.

When you were honest about owning a cat, Hongjoong kept up the lies with saying he preferred dogs.

The fifth date was one you'd organised, giving Hongjoong nothing but an address and the instruction to dress like a pompous aristocrat. He felt a little silly, walking the street midday in his suit and tie, but he found himself caring less than he normally would. He quite liked being Clyde. He'd even nearly put on a teal tie, but he decided he still wasn't ready and stuck to a black one.

from: bonnie meet me inside.

Pulling the door open to the building, he was admittedly ashamed of not recognising the address of the art gallery. Back in college, he'd spent hours sat in the centre of some of the larger rooms, beautiful art encasing him as he worked away at whatever project he needed to complete before midnight.

He found you near the information desk, scrolling through your phone. He'd hate to ever admit he took this moment of liberty to give you a once-over. Your beauty was nothing new to him, a few dates in now. The way it morphed into something new every time, though, that never failed to intrigue him.

“You scrub up quite nicely, Bonnie.” Hongjoong no longer felt a shake in his voice whenever you two met up. It worried him that he may be getting used to you but, the smile you gave in retaliation to his greeting didn't worry him,

He actually liked it.

The two of you ventured through the gallery, shoulder to shoulder. You'd stare at the art and he would stare at you. For no reason other than he had seen these pieces all plenty of times, more than he'd seen you.

Hongjoong smiled, thinking of how wonderful it was to see someone experiencing the art for the first time. That smile faltered when you both came to a stop in front of a familiar painting. A portrait of a woman, naked skin tangled with rose vines and face stoic..

If only the thorns dug more into her skin, enough to draw blood, it would have satisfied him.

“This one makes me sad.” You spoke, unknowingly quenching some of the fiery anger burning up in him. He'd forgotten this piece was even hung here.

“Why?” He knew why it made him sad, but you? He couldn't understand. The painting was a supposed demonstration of love, a declaration of affection.

“It reminds me of unrequited love.” You took his lack of response as your sign to continue, clearing your throat. “It's like a shrine, or an artsy version of putting her up on a pedestal. Even it's name, Aphrodite's champion. It's like the artist is worshipping her like a goddess.”

He felt a lump swelling in his throat the more you spoke, the memories of her walking out on him playing out in his head. How she'd revealed her lies to him, stripped him away of his sanity, gaslit him into thinking he'd pushed her to the point of infidelity. It took many drunken nights in Seonghwa's company to get it through his head that nothing he'd done could ever excuse the way she treated him.

“I feel sorry for whoever the artist Kim Hongjoong is. They deserve better.”

He'd managed to make it to the bathroom in time for the first tear falling, you none-the-wiser to the emotional fractures ripping him apart in the tiny stall.

The sixth date went better.

He was relieved by the time Saturday arrived, his week filled with nothing but stress and heartache. On the Monday, Seonghwa had invited himself into his apartment, finding his friend dishevelled and puffy eyed in his studio room, an empty canvas in front of him and a paper scribbled with ideas in his hand. Wednesday saw the unexpected visit of his mother, which always went down a treat for him. On Thursday, he drank away the day that should've been his and his ex's fifth anniversary. By the time Friday had rolled around, Hongjoong started working, for the second time, on the final piece of his collection.

The reopening of his wounds had at least served some purpose.

Every other week so far, Saturday had been the day he dreaded. The day he had to mentally prepare for, the few hours of social interaction exhausting him. But the sixth Saturday was his saviour.

The day couldn't have gone better: he'd woken up early; he'd hummed along to the radio while cooking breakfast; he’d spent the afternoon painting, till his back ached and his fingers were cramped; he’d contemplated a hair cut but decided against it. And, when he'd stepped out the door that evening, twirling his keys on his finger, Hongjoong slipped on a red jacket.

“I can't believe drive-in cinema's are still a thing!” You exclaimed again, still in disbelief of where Hongjoong had brought you. His hands itched to reach up and wipe the mustard off the side of your mouth. Your napkin done it before he could lose his composure.

He nodded, mouth full of nachos. He was regretting asking for extra jalapeños, his tongue beginning to tingle. You, on the other hand, were smarter than him and stuck to a hotdog. As he swallowed, a tortilla chip scratched at his throat, leaving him coughing for a couple of seconds. “What, no joke about me being as old as the concept of drive-ins?”

“It's only a joke if you find it funny.”

“Who says I don't?”

“You've never laughed before at my jokes.”

“There's a first time for everything.”

The parking lot wasn't ridiculously busy. If Hongjoong had to, he would have guessed there was between ten to fifteen other cars apart from you two. A car to the left of his, four parking spaces between them, harboured what looked like two teenagers, one straddling the other's lap while they both took part in a dance of tongues and wandering hands.

Hongjoong believed their money would have been better spent on a motel room than the drive-in.

“What are we watching, anyway?” You piped up again after a while of comfortable silence, the radio softly playing a mix of early 2000s pop while you waited for the movie to play. He watched you sip from your cup, fingers drumming along to the beat coming through the speakers. Hongjoong liked it.

“Jurassic Park.”

“A movie about a group of prehistoric reptiles?” He'd expected the reaction you'd given him but that didn't make it any easier to suppress his smile at the sound of you laughing, cheeks puffed up from the stretch of your lips. “Isn't that based on your autobiography?”

Finally, he let laughter rip through his lungs, melodic waves of sound spreading in the small space of the vehicle. He was too lost in his own amusement to notice how your own laughter had died down or how you stared at him in content. Hongjoong really did look much better with a smile on his face, but you kept that thought to yourself out of fear of ruining the moment.

“Sorry Clyde, you just make it too easy for me.”

Once the movie started, the talking stopped, nothing but the sound of the characters pulsing through the speakers and the crunch of pop-corn. Your eyes hadn't left the screen once, sparkling a little with the bright reflection of the screen. Hongjoong, on the other hand, struggled to keep himself concentrated. His eyes were restless: watching the screen, watching you, watching the other cars, watching the sky, watching you, watching the pedals at his feet, watching you, watching you, watching you.

He craved your attention.

“Tell me something about you, Bonnie.” His whispered words had your eyes on him at last. You didn't seem bothered by the way he was interrupting the movie. Instead, you reached to turn down the radio.

“I hate the spelling of the word Wednesday.” You shifted yourself in your seat, leaning closer to him. His stomach turned at the smell of your perfume, lingering on his senses and threatening to get him hooked on it. “It's just so ugly looking, don't you agree?”

“Hmm...” Hongjoong had to spell it mentally, visualising all the times he'd written it in the corner of middle-school notebooks. “I get what you mean. It looks like it has more letters than it needs, kinda cramped?”

“Yes! Exactly! It's only got two e's but that somehow feels like too many.” Was he proud because he managed to relate to someone or because that someone was you? “Your turn, Clyde.”

“I hate the colour blue.”

“That's strange.” You didn't seem to be judging him, just commenting on it.

“You think?”

You hummed in approval, sipping the remnants of your drink. “Worldwide, that's the colour most people favour.”

“And yet the colour is associated with the feeling of sadness. Says more about everyone else than it does about me, wouldn't you agree?”

The radio was shortly turned back up. His eyes were more calm this time, only occasionally drifting over to where you were sat. Until he felt something drop against him. He found you, eyes shut by sleep.

You needed a place to rest your head and he let you have him, finding comfort in the weight of you on his shoulder.

Hongjoong couldn't stand hospitals.

They smelt like bleach coloured death and words left unsaid and fading heartbeats. The lights were too bright, like they were trying to mimic the light one sees at the end of the tunnel. Everything was used and touched and tainted by another person, yet things were presented as brand new and never used. For him, every inch of the building brought on a kaleidoscope of memories of the final months before his passing, before his mother was left spouseless and his older brother took over the role of man of the house, and Hongjoong turned to paint brushes and abstract emotions.

In his first ever therapy session- one he'd only attended at her request-, they'd quickly gotten on to the topic of his father. It wasn't a shock for him to realise his depressive days had began after his death, making him wonder why he was paying this stranger to tell him things he already knew.

Sighing, he brushed aside the unwanted memories and tightened his grip on the crutches, making his way out of the consultation office and back into the lobby, a prescription tucked into his back pocket. The pain in his ankle diminished slightly the second he caught sight of you, biting down on the tip of your pen and caught in a trance staring at your crossword. There was a strand of straw caught amongst your hair but you seemed none-the-wiser.

He pulled it out when he was close enough, smiling down at you sheepishly while you pushed the magazine to the side, eyes shooting down to his ankle.

“Well?” You asked expectantly.

“It's not broken.” You sighed in relief. “It just took some shock upon impact, so it's a little sensitive. Should heal up in a few days, but I've to come back if the pain worsens at any point.”

“So you won't be suing me for damages?”

“No!” He chuckled in disbelief. You'd stood yourself up and you both were now making your way through the lobby of the hospital. It was endearing to see you walk slower for him to keep up. “Why would I sue you, Bonnie?”

He'd started to use your false name more. Was it to stop himself from asking for your real one? To remind himself this wasn't real?

“You're hurt because of me! I knew horseback riding was too risky for your old bones, should've just taken you to the zoo like I originally planned.”

“I don't like zoos.” An elderly couple pointed towards you two as you passed them. Hongjoong wanted to know what they thought of you both. “Besides, I had fun today. Especially when your horse stopped to take a massive dump mid-way through the trail and then ate grass for about five minutes. Watching you struggle to get it moving again was the highlight of my week!”

“Oh haha, very funny. Starting to think you falling off your horse was just karma for enjoying my suffering.”

The sun was barely up anymore, hues of dark orange setting fire to the sky while the sun slowly disappeared for the day. Hongjoong wondered if you could feel the cold the same way he could. When you'd both met in the morning, it was much warmer and neither of you predicted you would still be together so late into the day.

“Did you get a hold of your friend?” Hongjoong shook his head at your question. He'd messaged Seonghwa after the doctor had given him the all clear, knowing that he wasn't capable of driving himself home.

“He's busy, stuck with his in-laws for the night.” He knew there were others he could have asked to help him, like the rest of the boys in the group chat. For some reason, he didn't want to.

“Then I guess you're just going to have to accept the fact I'm about to find out where you live, Clyde.”

“I'm sure I can live with that.”

The drive was relaxing. He let his eyes drop down and just enjoyed the humming of the engine, the classical music dancing out of the speakers, the sweet scent of you in the air. Every so often, his GPS would chime in and keep him from falling off the edge into sleep. If someone had told him weeks ago, dates back, that you would be driving toward his apartment, he would have cut contact with you straight away.

Right now, he wished you'd hurry up and step inside the four walls he called home.

“You must have a boring job.” The doors to the elevator shut slowly, a fact which Hongjoong had always hated about the building. It usually left him stuck having uncomfortable small talk with the older women in his building.

“Huh?”

“Boring jobs always pay the best.” You further elaborated. “To live in a place like this, you must get payed well.”

He'd never really thought about the paycheques he collected. For Hongjoong, his art wasn't a job. It was breathing, living, feeling. He often forgot it was also what payed his bills and funded his lifestyle. He supposed you were right, to an extent. He did get payed well, but his job was by no means boring. “I told you, I'm an accountant.”

He was glad to find his apartment clean, mentally noting to thank Seonghwa for tidying up for him last time he'd visited. He'd always been a clean freak but fatherhood seemed to have intensified it. You walked in after him, swinging the little white bag in sync with your steps, his medicine tossing around inside of it. Somewhere along the drive home, he remember the prescription in his pocket, prompting a sudden manhunt for an open pharmacy.

At your orders, Hongjoong dropped himself down onto the couch while you wandered into the kitchen, asking him where he kept his mugs and how he liked his coffee. Watching you struggle to open his monstrous size of a fridge, Hongjoong didn't hate the look of you in his safe space. You fit in quite well.

For the first time in years, he let himself be taken care of. You cooked up some kimchi stew, which you shared sat in his living room, laughing between bites at the cringey rom-com playing on the TV. You fluffed a cushion and helped him prop his foot up on the coffee table, wrapping it in a frozen bag of peas when you realized he had no ice. You poured him drink after drink, forced him to take his medicine, cleaned up the dishes you'd both used.

You kept him company.

“Tell me...” Hongjoong trailed off, deciding he didn't want to finish the sentence.

“Something about myself?” You finished it off, curling yourself further into his couch, legs pulled up to your chest and a mug of tea heating up your hands.

“No, actually.” You looked more surprised than he felt. “Tell me why you agreed to this.”

“You know, nobody really warns you about how lonely being an adult is.” Hongjoong wanted to scream out in agreement. He leaned closer to you instead, body language urging you to continue. “I always thought college would be wild nights and crazy parties and messy hook-ups. And it is but it's also stressful, difficult, isolating. There's times where I go days without speaking to my friends, ignoring their texts for no other reason than I'm so drained and conversations overwhelm me. When I do want to talk or see them, they're all too busy with their own lives, which I'm not angry about but hanging out isn't as easy as it was back when the only thing we had to worry about was having the dishes done by the time our parents came home. The feeling of being lonely took over the feeling of being alive somewhere along the way. I miss being busy with something other than responsibilities, I miss being hugged because I'm cared about and not because someone wants to cop a feel. I miss the feeling of company and understanding.”

Your word-vomit resonated with Hongjoong, the way you explained your feelings and your cravings mirroring things he'd been thinking for months. How would you react if he hugged you? He didn't want you to mistake it for pity. His arms stayed put.

“On the flipside, the intimacy of love is something I don't want. Which contradicts the things I do want, I know, but then I came across your profile. You sort of filled that hole and I didn't need to worry about the complications of relationships.” And now he was feeling guilty for his recent behaviour. You were strangers, that was the deal. “I guess that's why I agreed to it.”

The shame poured off you in waves, the realization of everything you'd just let out into the world hitting you like a truck. You took a few more drinks of your tea, the cup covering half your face.

“I needed a new muse.” Hongjoong thought it was only fair he shared his reason too. Another part of him, one he didn't want to acknowledge, wanted you to know about his past.

“I didn't know accountants needed muses.” You joked, choking a smile out of your saddened face.

“Yeah, well, let's just say this accountant has a side-job involving art.”

“What happened to your old muse? Did you outgrow them?”

“They outgrew me.” It had been so long since he'd had to tell this story to someone, he only hoped he could get it out without choking up. “Have you ever met someone and immediately realised you want them by your side till the day you die?” You looked at him, nodding your head affirmatively. “That was my ex. We met on campus. She was late to class and I accidentally spilt coffee all over her.”

“What a k-drama way of meeting.”

“Tell me about it. So anyway, we were together for three years. It was great, like living in some fantasy. We'd spend mornings sleeping, in the afternoon she'd drag me out to do something, no matter how much I wanted to stay home. And in the evening, she'd sit and I'd paint her. Until she started leaving in the morning, and coming home late, and girls nights out kept ending with her sleeping round her friends houses.”

“Clyde...” He wished you'd said his name with pity, not the meaningless name you'd anointed to him.

“But whatever, I thought nothing about it. We just moved on from the honeymoon phase, right? On our anniversary, I took her to her favourite restaurant, some fancy place covered in enough blue to make me nauseous. The whole night I felt like shit and just wanted to go home but she didn't even notice, eyes staring off at something behind me. It was during dessert that she broke the news of her pregnancy, the restaurant owner even appeared from behind me with a celebratory bottle of champagne for us.”

“Alcohol? Sounds exactly like what a pregnant lady needs.”

Hongjoong snorted back laughter, finding comedy in the fact you had no idea what was coming next. “So we start preparing for the baby, she even has me emptying out my studio room and turning it into a nursery.” He paused, blinking till his eyes had glassed over. “I never realized I was someone who wanted kids till she told me it wasn't mine. Five months along, after sitting with her through all the morning sickness, and holding her hand at the doctors, and massaging her swollen ankles every night, she finally decides she owes me the truth. And only because the real father finally stepped up and offered to take responsibility. Guess she preferred someone who owned a restaurant instead of someone who played with arts and craft supplies for a living.”

It was you who hugged him, carefully crossing the space between you both and wrapping your arms around his torso, hand rhythmically patting his back. He hesitated momentarily before letting his arms tangle themselves around you. The first thing he noted was how warm you felt, like soup on a cold day or hot chocolate on Christmas morning. The second thing was your perfume, different to any you'd worn before, one he swore smelt like tulips.

Hongjoong melted into you, forehead pressed against your shoulder and eyes shut, washing away the tears of self-pity. He sighed and took a breath, reminding himself of the breathing exercises he'd learn to calm himself down in moments of anguish. He was thankful you continued to hold him.

“Tell me something about you.” He said- no, begged. He needed the conversation to change. He needed you to be Bonnie and him to be Clyde, instead of Kim Hongjoong and a stranger he was growing attached to.

“Classical music reminds me of sex.” The way you made him laugh so easily wasn't helping his attachment. “Don't laugh! There's the soft beginning, which is like kissing. Then comes the gentle increase, the teasing moments of undressing. The build up, the foreplay. And then the crescendo is the climax. It's sex turned into music.”

“So, when you're trying to seduce a guy, what do you do? Put on some Beethoven and throw it back?”

“Don't make me poke your ankle!”

Neither of you moved back to your original positions, even after pulling away from the hug. You sat, face to face, talking over everything and nothing. For the first time, Hongjoong hadn't lied to you once, an achievement he found less scary than he would have a month ago. And you? You hadn't lied, necessarily, simply told a half-truth. Just one. 

It couldn't hurt, right?

When you'd succumbed to sleep on his shoulder, Hongjoong decided it was probably time for bed. If it weren't for his crutches, he would have carried you into his room, given up his bed in exchange for the couch. The best he could do was lay you down on a pillow and wrap you in a blanket, leaving the hallway light on in case you awoke startled in the night.

Hongjoong fell asleep wondering how much warmer the bed would've been with you beside him.

And he woke up to a scream.

Your scream.

Cursing after he forgot about his injury and stepped down onto his ankle, Hongjoong hobbled as quickly as he could over to his crutches, completely alert as he made his way out of his room, only to stumble onto the scene of the crime.

Your hair was messed up by sleep and your face was a little puffy while you held up your pillow defensively, facing the intruder who clearly was a threat to your life: Seonghwa with a baby strapped to his chest and an amused look on his face.

“Hongjoong! How nice of you to join us!”

Oh no. Oh no. His eyes shot to you, wide, seeing you processing just exactly what Seonghwa had said. It was too early in the morning for him to try and handle this smoothly.

“How did you get in here?” He decided to focus on his friend instead, hoping if he brushed it off enough you'd forget what you heard and keep seeing him as Clyde.

“The same way you did,” Seonghwa held up his hand, a set of keys in his grasp. “a key.” He'd forgotten all about the spare key he'd given to him. And the fact he had the worst timing. “Who's this, Joong?”

“That's...” The person I've been dating but not really dating for the past few months and it's starting to get complicated, and you aren't helping by saying my name. “my person.”

“Your person?” Seonghwa parroted, a dumbfounded look on his face. “You must be feeling better, you're starting to sound like a pretentious artist again.”

“Okay, what do you want? Why are you here?” If Hongjoong had found the courage to look at you, he'd have noticed the fondness in the way you watched the two men interact.

“I forget you're not a morning person. Why was your person sleeping on the couch? Trouble in paradise?” His questions were followed up by Seonghwa slowly sitting himself down on the couch, hand cradling his son's head to his chest.

“I fell asleep on the couch while we were watching a movie.” Hongjoong had never been happier to hear you speak. “Cl- Hongjoong couldn't move me because of his crutches. Paradise is still very much good, thanks.”

Seonghwa stared past him, right at you, eyes narrowing into a calculative glare. “I like you.”

“I'm flattered. But I need to leave, got work in a couple hours.”

“Let me walk you- actually, hobble you to the door.” Hongjoong was quick, following you over to the front door and, most importantly, out of Seonghwa's hearing range. “Thanks, for last night.”

“No problem. Don't forget to take your meds." You smiled, hand patting the top of his arm. He wanted to feel what it was like to hug you again. “See you next Saturday, Clyde.”

The dopiest of smiles rested on his face, only faltering when he returned to the living room and found a knowing look on Seonghwa's face.

“Oh, shut up!” He exclaimed, throwing himself down next to him on the couch.

“I didn't say anything!”

The whistle of the boiled kettle interrupted Hongjoong’s actions, as if to stop him from making a mistake. He shoved the burner phone back into his pocket, tending to his fourth coffee of the day. The clock had barely passed eleven am. 

Making his way back into the studio, a smile lit up his face instantly at the sight of his work in progress. The canvas was more than half-way done at this point, he’d finally reached his favourite part of any piece: the details. He loved to play with the shading, the swirls of different colours and the specs of different textures. 

The whole experience of working on this last painting had sent him down a trip of nostalgic memories, some good and some bad. By far, his favourite was the memory of the opening day of his first exhibit. He could remember swelling with pride when a little boy, no taller than the height of his knees, reached out to put his hands on a canvas. Even though the mother had scolded her son, Hongjoong enjoyed the way he was touching his art, experiencing it with all his senses.

Two sips into his coffee and his mobile buzzed. Hongjoong was disappointed it wasn’t the chunky one in his pocket, but his newer model thrown somewhere behind him on the old couch.

[11:27 am] ddeonghwa: don’t forget to bring the supplies for saturday or chaeyoung will kill both of us.

Hongjoong had never been so happy to receive a text from his friend, who was completely unaware of the excuse he’d just created for him, the window of opportunity he’d opened.

to: bonnie are you busy?

Your reply was instant, making Hongjoong less embarrassed to be messaging you.

from: bonnie if staring at my notes and pretending to study is busy, then yes.

to: bonnie you could do that anywhere, technically. 

from: bonnie i could.

to: bonnie i’ve heard art stimulates people’s brains.

from: bonnie everything stimulates the brain.

to: bonnie shut up and come over, i have mango tea.

from: bonnie you should’ve opened with that, i’d be there by now.

You’d arrived in no time, quenching the deep desire he’d had to see you. It appeared two hours after you’d left on Saturday and made itself at home in Hongjoong’s brain, eating away at his conscious and begging him to message you, to think about you on days that weren’t a Saturday. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” You asked him for the third time since you’d arrived. Your textbook lay in front of you on the kitchen island but your eyes were busy watching him struggle to make your tea. “You do realize it’s only Wednesday, right? Or has dementia finally caught a hold of your brain?”

“Careful or I might accidentally use salt instead of sugar.”

You ended up taking over, making your own drink. You didn’t mind, it gave you an excuse to shut your book and stand next to him. He looked cute in his paint splattered shirt and his iron man socks. His hair was messier than you’d seen before, looking soft to touch and like it smelled of high-end shampoo. 

“I’m busy on Saturday, but I didn’t want to deprive you of your weekly company.” 

“Busy? On a Saturday?!” The exclamation in your voice was exaggerated, you both knew that. You bumped your hip into his, careful to not knock the hand that was pouring hot water into his cup of coffee. “Here I thought Saturdays were something reserved just for me.”

He hated that fact more than anything, that it was only Saturdays.

Conversation came easy between you both as you drank your warm beverages, him perched on the counter and you on one of the bar stools. You told him about upcoming exams and he told you about the recent exhibit he’d been working on. You shared the story of some guy in class who’d accidentally taken ecstasy and Hongjoong exposed the story of how Yunho had once thought he was buying cocaine in college but it was just a bag of crushed chalk. 

“Can I see your studio?” You asked, dropping your empty mug into the kitchen sink. 

“Let me just...” Hongjoong was surprised by the words coming out of his own mouth. His studio was his sanctuary. He could count on one hand the number of people he willingly allowed in there: himself, Seonghwa and Mingi once (by accident). Yet here he was, not even thinking over the choice of letting you see it. He just wanted external validation, that was all. Someone not in his immediate friend group. “clean up quickly.”

Which he did, shoving used tissue into a plastic bag, moving his dirty palette and used brushes to the sink he kept in there, turning the canvas that carried his final piece the other way, not ready for you to see it. Only once things seemed semi presentable did he call you in.

“So you’re like, the real deal?” You finally spoke for the first time since entering, eyes not sure what you wanted to stare at more. The room was so colourful, as if it contained all of Hongjoong’s personality.

“I guess? Yeah.” He’d never felt so sheepish, hands shoved in his pockets and mind racing with every worry under the sun. 

“What’s your most recent work then?”

“Oh, no no, that’s not ready for your prying eyes to see.” You groaned in frustration and he just laughed. An idea struck him, one he shouldn’t have had but there was no getting rid of it now. “I can paint you something right now though, if you want.” 

You nodded eagerly, eyes lit up in excitement. The look didn’t even fade when Hongjoong warned you it would take a few hours. “Talent can’t be rushed, I know.”

“Okay, take your top off.” You raised your eyebrows at him, a questioning look across your face. “Don’t look at me like that. Take it off and lay on the couch, on your front. You’re going to be my canvas.”

Hongjoong turned his back on you, giving you the privacy you need to undress yourself.  “That’s me done.” Your voice was muffled slightly by the leather cushion but he understood you. 

He gathered what he needed: the brushes, the paint, the sponges, the small basin of water. Setting it up next to the couch, he cleared is throat before straddling his legs over either side of you, refusing to let himself sink down completely. He wiped your back down slowly, ignoring the way you moved beneath him with every breath. 

“This might be cold.” Was his only warning before giving the first stroke of his brush. Just like he expected, you gasped beneath him, a series of inappropriate thoughts shooting through his mind. You quickly relaxed, eyes shutting while Hongjoong slowly spread the base colour over your skin.

At some point, he reached for a remote and flicked on the radio, soft music playing out and encompassing the feeling around you both. You giggled beneath him, squirming against his body and slowly killing his resolve. Hongjoong wanted to blame the paint fumes on the high he was feeling. 

“Sorry,” He heard you huff out lazily, eyes barely open. “it just tickles.”

“It’s fine.” He lied. “I used to do this with her.”

“Yeah?” You knew him so well, already aware of who he was speaking about.

“She was always impatient, rushing me to finish. It usually messed up my work.”

“She sounds like a piece of work.”

“Yeah,” He sighed, not quite understanding the smile he carried on his lips while talking about her. “she was the worst.”

By the time Hongjoong had finished, the sun had set and hours had passed. You’d drifted somewhere between sleeping and talking to him the whole time, the music keeping him company in the moments you closed your eyes. 

“Could you take a picture?” You whispered after he announced he’d finished, eyes slowly opening to readjust to the light. “My phone’s in my back pocket.”

So that’s what had been poking against him. Hongjoong was greeted by the picture of a cat, small and grey, displayed on your lockscreen. He now knew you hadn’t lied about owning one. 

His fingers worked quickly to snap a picture, body needing to remove himself from yours. He didn’t like how tight his trousers had become, the way you’d sighed and gasped and squirmed beneath him having done something to his head. He leaned over you, hands holding his weight up and off of the drying paint on your back, holding your phone out for you to see. 

“You’re...” Your words caught in your throat, eyes darting back and forth between the screen and his face. On your naked back lay a colourful field of flowers, the shadows of two people standing face to face, heads haloed by the sun. “insane.”

Maybe it was the way you were staring at his work or the way you smelt up close or the hours of growing tension in his body, but Hongjoong lost himself in the moment, lips diving down to claim your own against his. You reciprocated immediately, head angled uncomfortably to the side just to kiss him deeper.

He was glad to let you slip your tongue into him, tasting him, drinking him in while his arms gave out and he dropped down onto your back. Neither of you cared for the smudging paint between you and his shirt. He trailed his lips down your neck, breathing heavy when he felt you grind up against him, eyes rolling back as he began to match your hips with his own. 

You whined when he sat up, causing him to giggle and work at pulling his shirt off quicker, throwing it somewhere into the room. He didn’t care to watch it land on a pile of acrylic paint, too busy pressing himself back down to you, the cool paint making his nipples stand to attention and his hands sneaking under you to cup your chest, fingers tweaking at your nipples and dragging the sweetest of noises out of you. 

“Is this okay?” He mumbled between kisses along your shoulder, hands now down at the hem of your jeans, teasingly dipping under and threatening to pull them off. He just needed your consent first, to hear you wanted this as much as he did. 

“No,” Your breathing had begun to labour, chest stuttering over an inhalation. “there’s too much clothes on. Hurry up.”

He followed your command, hands dragging your jeans off with your help before your underwear followed, after he pinged the elastic onto your skin and laughed when you called him dumb. His shaky hands quickly worked at removing the rest of his own clothing. If he moved fast enough, there’d be no time to question if you two should have been doing this. 

Hongjoong was tired of thinking.

Once he was freed of the confines of clothing, cock hard against his stomach, Hongjoong spat onto his hands, grabbing himself by the base and spreading it over his shaft, lubricating his cock while you watched him from over your shoulder, your hips grinding down on the sofa, mouth agape at the little pleasure you were getting. 

When his eyes met yours, it was the last bit of encouragement he needed to align himself with your entrance, hand splayed out on your lower back while the other angled your hips up. Pushing his cock into your tightness left him feeling warmer than any hug ever could.

A few moments of stillness, and then he began to thrust, lighting both of your nerves on fire with pleasure. The music began to build gradually over the radio, in time with your rising heartbeat and racing breaths.

You began meeting his thrusts, hands trying to grip at the tattered leather under them while the sweat dripped down your back, colourful trails running down your sides and on to the couch. Hongjoong had never loved the sight of his own art so much, picking up the speed at which he pistoned his hips into yours, skin clapping against skin in time with the symphony playing over the stereo. 

The space between you became too much for Hongjoong. He needed you closer, till you were breathing the same air. Fingers tangled in your hair, he pulled you up to rest on your knees, your back meeting his chest and your face resting inches away from his own. It drove him wild to hear you moan, to see the way your eyes were hooded and your mouth failed to shut. He got cocky, shoving his fingers into your open mouth, eyes rolling back when your lips wrapped around his digits, tongue swirling over them. 

“You imagining that’s my cock in your mouth, doll?” He threw his head back when you moaned, mouth and hole stuffed full of him. 

He removed his fingers, dragging a trail of your saliva down till he found your nipples once more, covering you in your own fluids. You rocked back against him, taking his length deeper than before. His lips reattached to your neck, needing a way to filter out the string of lewd things he wanted to say.

“Clyde!” You cried out, hand shooting back to tangle itself in his hair, tugging on it and rousing a groan from his chest.

“Don’t call me that.” The music grew with his thrusts, the intensity bouncing off of the walls. “Please.”

“Hongjoong!” You corrected yourself and his hips stuttered, feeling you clench down on him in a vice grip, your orgasm washing over you without a warning. 

He fucked you through it, willing himself to hold on a little longer. The music and him reached their crescendo in sync, Hongjoong pulling out watching the thick ropes of his seed paint your back for the second time that evening, mixing in with the shades of colour you were both covered in by now.

That night, Hongjoong found out just how much warmer his bed was with you in it.

And how you looked first thing in the morning, fingers tangled with his own and a leg thrown over his hip, welcoming in every thrust he brought upon you, starting your days off in bliss. By noon, you dragged him out of bed, both your stomachs growling for food.

He left you to cook the bacon, laughing when you smacked his pyjama covered ass as he skirted past you to grab the eggs from his fridge. After cracking them into the pan next to the bacon, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back against his chest and nuzzling his head in your neck. You smelled like his shampoo, the shirt on your back tainting you in his cologne.

“Tell me something about you.” He peppered kisses over your neck, only to hear you laugh at how his hair tickled you.

“I like the deal we have.”

“Me too.”

You both lied but your lips met before either of you could call the other out on it, bacon sizzling below. His fingers met the hem of your shirt- his shirt, really-, inching it up slowly. He couldn’t recognise the man he’d become, hungry for your affection and desperately in need of you against him.

“What kind of porno have I walked into?”

You both jumped apart, eyes wide as you came face to face with none other than Park Seonghwa, who’s hands were shielding his eyes.

Hongjoong needed to take the spare key off of him. 

“Don’t you ever knock?” Hongjoong groaned in frustration, watching how you diverted your attention back to the breakfast you’d been cooking. 

“You knew I was coming over!” Seonghwa sat at the island, watching you in amusement while Hongjoong wished he’d go away. “Remember? You’re coming with me to make sure Wooyoung doesn’t try buy my daughter something inappropriate. It was bad enough he bought a bib with bros before hoes written across it for little Minho’s baby shower last year.”

You laughed, switching the stove off once the food was done and turned around to face them both. “Wooyoung sounds fun.”

“Yeah, till you meet him and realise he’s an adult who hasn’t grown out of his frat-boy phase.” Did Hongjoong feel a flash of green at the prospect of you finding Wooyoung fun? No, not at all, why would he care what you thought?

“Speaking of meeting that cretin, you should come to my daughter’s birthday party this Saturday. She’s two, so the party is just an excuse for a bunch of parents to get drunk while their kids make a mess of my back garden.” Seonghwa had been nagging Hongjoong since he’d met you last weekend to invite you to the party, and each time Hongjoong had said no. It seemed he’d decided to take matters into his own hands. “I never caught your name, by the way.”

“Uh...” Your eyes skirted over to Hongjoong. He just hoped you wouldn’t say Bonnie. Not after everything that happened in the last twenty four hours. “Y/N. That’s my... uh, name. Yeah.”

“Okay Y/N, I’ll make sure your boyfriend here brings you along to the party. Though, you might want to wear more than just his shirt, Wooyoung kinda has a thing for legs.”

Hongjoong held back from swearing, nearly tripping over the toddler that had just ran past his feet. 

The party was full, more children than adults and only a few poor sober, breastfeeding mothers stuck with the responsibility of taking care of them. Everyone else had been more than happy to indulge in the drinks Chaeyoung and Seonghwa had provided, the prior just excited to have her first drink since bringing the couple’s six month old son into the world.

He was glad to have you by his side. At the Park’s first birthday party for their daughter, Sodam, Hongjoong was fresh out of a break up and dealing with the looks of pity and apologetic words from his and the couple’s friends alike. It felt good to have them all keen to know how he’d met you, how long you’d been together, what plans you had, even if everything you two said was a lie. 

Yunho and Mingi had been made to believe the two of you met in a grocery store, while you were buying a bottle of rosé and him some celery. You’d insisted on coming up with that story, laughing for reasons Hongjoong couldn’t quite understand. San and his fiancé had been told it was in a museum, you a tour guide who’d been corrected by Hongjoong on some fact about Picasso. Wooyoung, Yeosang, Jongho and his girlfriend were recounted the story of how you’d been a fan of him since his first exhibit, and were incapable of not approaching him when you spotted him in a coffee shop.

He now stood at a distance, Chaeyoung’s orders that he leave you alone for some time. Which apparently meant Chaeyoung, San’s fiancé and Jongho’s girlfriend giggling at everything you said. It warmed his heart to see you gain their approval, knowing they cared for him like a brother. The whole day had made him realise how much he had, more friends than he gave himself credit, more reasons to smile than he’d believed.

“You’re a lucky man.”

Hongjoong nearly jumped out of his own skin, turning around to come face to face with Chaeyoung’s co-worker. Hyeri! That was her name! “Huh? Oh, yeah, I am.”

“It’s nice to see you with someone,” She still had that smile on her face, just like she’d had on their date. Hongjoong no longer envied her because of it. “you seem more like the guy Seonghwa told me about.”

Her words meant everything to him. Hongjoong really did feel like himself again, no longer the empty shell. Sure, he still had a long way to go before he was fully there but, for now, he could accept no longer stopping himself from wearing colour and asking for milk in his coffee. “What about you? Anyone trying to sweep you off your feet?”

“Oh no, not for me. Though, your friend Wooyoung did try shoot his shot.” That sounded about right.

He was about to answer when his eyes drifted back over to you, where he found one of Seonghwa’s famous homemade cupcakes in your hand, moments away from taking your first bite. He excused himself quickly and hurried over, ripping the treat from your grasp and dropping it back onto the table, ignoring the look Chaeyoung was shooting his way and your protests.

Clearly no one had warned you about the special ingredient. “You can’t eat that, it’s full of strawberry jam.”

You stuck to the chocolate cookies for the rest of the night.

Come nine o’clock, the children had all crashed down from their sugar high and guests began to leave, Seonghwa waving you two off from the door. He’d nearly invited you to Hongjoong’s exhibition in two weeks but, fortunately, he understood the artist’s widened eyes and shaking head.

Hongjoong wanted to ask you privately, in his own time.

“It’s not quite your apartment but,” You moved aside, welcoming a tipsy Hongjoong into your home. “it’s enough for me.”

He wasn’t ready to say goodbye so early in the evening, convincing you to take him back to your place. You lived closer to Seonghwa, anyway. It made sense, right? Hongjoong was just thinking logically when he’d let you lead him to your door, hand intertwined in his, an occasional brush of his lips against your knuckles when he’d cover his drunken giggles with your hands.

Your apartment was much smaller than his, but it didn’t mean anything to him. He liked the way little details about you decorated the place, magazines and books and candles littered in odd places. He enjoyed being trusted into your safe space, knowing how difficult of a thing it was for him to do with people, with strangers. Were you two still strangers?

“Sorry, I need to go drop something off to my neighbour. They keep delivering her mail to me for some reason.” You announced after a while of sitting next to him on the couch, not doing much yet filling Hongjoong’s heart with joy. He pulled you into his kiss for the first time all day, hand cupping your cheek while his lips begged you to do it later, to stay with him right now. “I’ll be ten minutes, tops. Feel free to snoop around if you get bored.”

He originally wasn’t going to do as you said, telling himself he wasn’t so childish as to look through someone’s things. But, you had given him permission. And he was bored, alcohol hitting him harder than ever and demanding he stand up and move. So he filtered through your book case, laughing at the few romance novels you had, raising his eyebrows at the untouched copy of 50 Shades Of Grey. He imagined it was a gag gift, no pun intended. 

His hands picked up some of your textbooks, finding he quite liked your handwriting. It was a neat mess. And, from the writings on the pages, he gathered you were majoring in something like psychology, a lot of big words and talk of cognitive behaviour. He flicked to the more recent notes you’d made,

His heart dropped to his stomach.

“Okay, I’m back. Jeez that woman can talk, she kept trying to invite...” You stumbled back through the door, freezing in your tracks. Your eyes flickered between Hongjoong’s frown and the notebook in his hand. “Hongjoong...”

“What is this about?” His voice was eerily calm, that feeling of euphoria laced tipsiness long gone. 

“What do you mean?”

“Date one: the subject seems boring, like he lacks his own personality. He relies on facts and big words to get him by. Maybe he’s a narcissist? I’m not quite sure yet, but it certainly must take a level of arrogance to put yourself on a dating site, you need to rely on your looks to seem intriguing.” Hongjoong spat your own notes out at you, hand clenching the paper with the grip he had. “Date two: he’s more stiff than a plank of wood. I accidentally brushed my hand against him while we grabbed at the clay and he froze up completely. Do i need to keep going?”

“No, I understand.” You cleared your throat, nervous and unsure of what to do. You’d never seen him angry. “And I know how it looks-”

“Know how it looks?! Yeah, it looks like you were studying me like some lab rat.” He snapped, slapping the offensive notebook down onto your coffee table. “Is this what you’ve been using our dates for? Some sick, twisted study?”

“Yes- No! It’s more complicated than that! It’s not like I could even use those notes in my thesis! It would be unethical, since you didn’t know about it.”

“Oh! Why didn’t you say so? That makes everything better, come let’s sit and talk about how you psychoanalyzed me!” His voice had begun to raise, not yelling but certainly not the soft tone he addressed you with. If only he flicked a few more pages, he’d have noticed how you’d stopped taking notes after the third date. “God, you’re such a liar, feeding me that bullshit about being lonely. Were you just telling me what I wanted to hear?”

“That wasn’t a lie!” You insisted, wanting to move closer but fearing it wasn’t what he wanted right now. “It was just some meaningless study on dating apps, okay? You weren’t going to be featured in it. I even changed my thesis subject weeks ago, just look for yourself!”

“If you think that makes me feel better, you’re dumber than I thought.” It stung to hear those words come from Hongjoong, your sad eyes only making him madder. How dare you be sad, as if he were the one who had wronged you, lied to you. “You’re just like her, you know? Full of shit.”

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re any better than me!” The frustration of his accusations and his ruthless words brought forth the anger in you. “Standing there like you haven’t been using me as some replacement for your ex. Newsflash! She’s moved on. She moved on before you even ended things, so why don’t you do the same?”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing as he sighed. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, willing himself to not blow his last fuse. When he reopened his eyes, his hands grabbed his jacket off of the couch and he marched past you, ripping the door open. 

“Where are you going?” You called after him.

“Somewhere I don’t need to worry about being a test subject.”

As he slammed the door shut, he heard you yell after him: “See you next Saturday.”

Only, you never did see each other that day.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Hongjoong had been zoning in and out from the conversation all morning, mind adrift somewhere else. He needed sleep, but all he had was lacklustre coffee and a headache. “Sorry, not been sleeping well.”

“Pre-exhibition jitters?” The woman, Mrs. Kwon, asked him from across the table, smiling politely. She was the art gallery’s director and she’d more or less overseen the entire process of preparing Hongjoong’s upcoming event.

“Something like that.”

“That’s understandable, I once had an artist burst into tears and beg that the whole event be cancelled... five minutes before the opening!” She laughed and Hongjoong tried to mimic it as earnestly as possible, smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I’m sure your agent, Seonghwa, has briefed you on everything but I’d like to just go over it again to make sure everything is perfect come Saturday.”

Hongjoong zoned out again, drowning out the woman’s voice. He could always ask Seonghwa to change something if he changed his mind last minute. If there was one thing he had to commend that man for, it was his powers of persuasion. Just four days after the birthday party, he’d coaxed the truth out of Hongjoong. The whole truth.

While she rambled on about opening hours and the placements for each piece, Hongjoong’s eyes drifted over to the counter, a queue of people waiting to grab their order. His throat went dry as his eyes met a familiar pair, which stared back at him empty and unfeeling, like when he stared in the mirror.

He willed himself to ignore it, to turn back and pay attention to the woman in front of him. It worked for a few minutes before he heard the bell above the door ring, turning just in time to see your retreating form. He dashed out of his seat, ignoring Mrs. Kwon calling his name and pushed himself out the door. 

“Y/N!” He called out after you, stopping behind you when you whipped around to face him. It hurt to see your eyes hadn’t changed from the cafe. “It’s not what you think-”

“What I think doesn’t matter.” You refused to meet his stare, cheek turned to him while you stared through the window of the cafe, at his empty chair and the beautiful woman waiting for him to return. “And whatever it is, it’s none of my business. We’re nothing, we never have been. Now, if you’ll allow me, I have to get to class. My test subjects are awaiting me.”

“Y/N.” He tried reaching for your hand, begging you with the call of your name to wait, to let him talk. 

“Stop calling me that! We don’t call each other by real names, remember? That was the deal.”

“I think we crossed the boundaries of our deal long ago.”

“Well I’m cancelling it all together, officially.” You readjusted the strap of your bag, taking a step back. “Goodbye, Clyde.”

Hongjoong had forgotten how cold the air felt against his neck. 

He’d been unsure of the drastic change, up until the moment Yeosang had snipped off the first few strands of hair. The mullet was gone and, in it’s place, blonde hair paired with an undercut sat. When he’d woken up that morning, lazily running his fingers through his hair, he decided he quite liked the shorter, neater style.

All day, he’d received compliments on his looks, those who had attended his first exhibit noting how much he’d grown in the few years since and newer fans of his work claiming they’d had no idea he was so young. He liked that they expected someone older, it made him feel more solidified in the art world, like his work came across as mature and well-nurtured.

His speech was short, thanking those he had to before quickly handing the microphone over to Seonghwa, who was always a charmer with crowds. He had them all laughing in no time, recounting the horrors of dealing with Hongjoong as a client.

Finally, for the first moment all day, Hongjoong found a pocket of silence for himself, managing to drift away from the crowds of people and the flutes of champagne that had started to make him feel a little sick. He stood alone, staring at the last part of his collection. 

He was proud of his work, no matter the bittersweet story it told. 

Every piece in his collection chronicled the past two years of his life, starting from the moment his relationship had began to fall apart, carrying through the months of misery, the loneliness, the acceptance, the moving on. It was his visual presentation of the stages of grieving a relationship, the final part being the most important. 

Because he had to move. He had to keep living, for no one but himself.

He had moved on. 

He knew it from the way he no longer avoided old pictures of her, from the way he could think about her and feel nothing. Not even the anger remained. She wasn’t worth the energy he’d spent so long wasting on her.

“This one doesn’t make me sad.” Hongjoong’s silence was interrupted. 

He could feel you standing next to him, staring at the same art he was. He never bothered turning his head to look at you, he saw you behind his eyelids every time he blinked. 

“How come?” 

“It’s reminds me of self-love.”

The face in the painting was much like his own, spare for a few details. One half was littered in shades of blue and grey, rose thorns stabbing at his skin while dead flowers and sharp twigs replaces what should’ve been his eyes. The other half was colourful, bright, smiling with vines wrapped around it and blossoming tulips on his lips, eyes peacefully closed. 

He sighed, turning to look at you at last. You copied him, eyes not like the last time he’d seen you. You looked pensive, nervous, like you were shy to be in his company.

“I hope you know how sorry I am.” He said, wishing there was someway to tell you he wanted to touch you without having to actually say it.

He just wanted to know you were real.

“I do.” You nodded, lips pursing together. “Just like you know how sorry I am too. I should’ve been honest with you that night. It would’ve saved a lot of trouble.”

He couldn’t disagree with you. If you’d told him, the two of you wouldn’t have fought that night. He would’ve invited you to his exhibition and would’ve returned into your waiting arms after his speech. But things didn’t always go the way people planned.

He was learning to be okay with that.

“How did you know?” He stared down at your hands, fingers rubbing together as he contemplated reaching for one. “About today, I mean.”

“Seonghwa is really good at guilt tripping people.” He laughed, knowing fine well what you meant. He needed to thank Seonghwa for whatever he’d said.

Your gazes both returned to the painting, the distant chatting of approaching people buzzing around you. 

“Are you free next Saturday, Bonnie?” His heart was in his hand, waiting and begging for you to lay claim on it.

“No.”

He sighed in defeat.

Your hand tugged at his own, intertwining your fingers.

“I’m afraid I’ll be spending it with Kim Hongjoong, sorry.”

Seonghwa was calling him.

Hongjoong hit decline.

The man was only calling for two reasons: to panic talk all about Hongjoong’s fourth exhibit- that was still months away and by no means something that needed worrying about- or to ask him if he’d done it yet.

Both were conversations he wasn’t in the mood for.

His eyes only left your sleeping form to stare down at the sketching pad in his hand, graphite shading and soft lines making up the form of his muse, Chopin playing gently as background noise to his scribbling and your breathing.

As he bent down to grasp his mug of coffee, the weight of the little box dragged the inside of his sweatpants pocket down, a reminder of the question he'd been meaning to ask you.

There was no rush, you were enjoying your rest.

Hongjoong could wait a few more hours.

#ateez smut #hongjoong smut #ateez oneshot #hongjoong oneshot #ateez fluff #hongjoong fluff #ateez angst #hongjoong angst

[thewritingstar]

Beautiful Revelations

Pairing: Gruvia (I know its been a hot ass min)

Fandom: Fairy Tail 

tags: @shellielyzabeth @be-dazzled @nostalgicxslumber @unvalley @tigerfire54

Note: It has happened. I have written 200 fanfics and idk if I should be proud or slightly scared. (feel free to skip this omg why is it so long) 

I want to say thank you to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged or interacted with me in any way. I have always had a feeling that no matter what I write, I wouldn’t matter. But every comment and sweet note left made me realize that even if its just a smile or enough to make someone hit the like button, I made a small difference or added something to the fandom. Most of my fics are quick drabbles full of spelling mistakes, random thoughts and love for the characters. I know I don’t write very long stories or finish my wips (why are we surprised) but even though Im not someone people look to as a big author, each of you have made me feel special. There have been many times, this year especially that I had decided to give up writing. “Im not good enough and no one will even notice” Thats what I told myself if I decided to just back away. But every so often I would look and see that someone new or old had read my work. Every time someone reads something I wrote, I go back and read it too. I look at all the tags and see every comment and I stop and smile and remember how much joy it brought me when I first posted. 

When I first started writing, I thought that I wouldn’t have a place. Yet in a very short span of time, I was welcomed with open arms and people started to tune in regularly for my fics. I had been given many nicknames such as Gruvia goddess, angst queen, satan (yes I know the fic0 and well even Star. 

During my darkest moments, my mind lingered to my writing and to my internet friends. without hesitation I could message someone and feel better and be given the reassure I need. I can't even begin to say how much it means to me that people actually enjoy my writing and even me as a person. 

I thank each of you for giving me a joy that was considered a luxury at one point and allowing me to write whatever I wanted and you took it with love and made me happier than I have been in years. To all the people who made art or wrote me something, it means so much to me. 

Im not saying that this fic is my greatest but I think it has a special place because It shows the growth over time. 200 fics is a lot and whether or not they were all good, it doesn't matter because I did that and I can say that im proud. Im sorry for all that sappy shit but I wouldn't be where I am without you all. 

-Star <3 

ps: im not dying or stop writing fics im just happy lol 

---

  “There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a               heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.”

― Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever

---

It was the nights like these that she hated most. The cold would creep through the blankets and make her shiver as her eyelids hung heavy. She could be ready to rest, let the sweet dreams guide her but instead those dark intrusive thoughts toyed with her like a fly on a freshly woven web. They would sprout out of nowhere, tangled with thorns and hold her mind hostage as it injected its sickly venomized thoughts for the night.

She always wondered how she got this far. She was one of the highest members of Phantom Lord, her abilities had rarely been matched. If she desperately craved, she could walk down the hallways and strike fear into the other members, no one could touch her. Hierarchies became a custom here. Once you made it to the top after clawing your way with blood, sweat and probably more blood, you were a god. Yet she walked in and in the next few minutes she was at the table with the master, already receiving a promise that she was special, a delicate and useful ally for the guild.

Special. What a swollen lie that turned out to be.

Maybe that's why she never bothered to search for a light, something to cure the rain. For every life she had bruised or ended, she wanted to feel the pain that followed. She needed to know the consequence of her actions, to be held accountable for ruining another family or taking something from the innocent. Instead she was celebrated.

The days turned to months and she found herself years later not knowing what anything meant anymore. Life used to be black and white. She would walk the side of the kind and good and now she was treading through a swarm of a morally gray compound.

These restless nights, she loathed them but then again, suffering was something that came naturally to her. The only person to ever knock her down was herself.

She climbed out of bed, fuzzy slippers over her feet as she walked to the bathroom. Her headache had worsened and she stared into the mirror. She had looked at herself a thousand times but… have her eyes always been that blue? No, she was tired and her vision was fuzzy, she was fine. Cold water came to her hands as she turned on the facet and splashed her face. Everything was the same as it always was. Expect for today.

Her order was simple. Defeat whoever stood in her way and make sure the Phantom Lord got Lucy Heratfilia. Why did they want some mage? She didn’t know but she was never one to second guess her orders. To go against what she was told was a waste of time, she would have been dead by the end of the day if she did. She had once believed that they accepted her with open arms, that Phantom Lord truly cared about her well being. It was a lie. A bitter sweet lie she allowed to remain in her head.

Hundreds of opponents had come before her. She was accustomed to the way of a battle and had harnessed her skill at a young age. The pure power of the rain pushed her further. She had an unlimited amount of power around her, unlike others, they would run out of fuel. She began to crave that god-like power. Allow the storm to rage on, all she had was herself and the droplets that followed. She understood she was an outcast. Love was never an option, not for someone who brought gloom everywhere.

But this afternoon, fate was a funny thing. She walked onto that rooftop, winning was the only thing on her mind, but he was there. A man who didn’t back down, a man who saw her as an equal.

Her heart began to race. It was forgien and she wasn’t sure if she liked it. She had felt attraction before but this, this was different. Something as small as a single glance had already spun her mind into a muddled mess. It would have been better if she turned around, if he didn’t engage in the fight. Then maybe she wouldn’t be thinking of him like this.

Love at first sight. That wasn’t real. No one could possibly have that happen. What could drive someone's emotion so wild that they become attached to a person in such a short time? And yet it happened. He stood there waiting for the next move and she could only gaze at him with rose colored glasses.

An enemy. A traitor. That's what she would be if she dared to let him escape. She couldn’t hestatite, she never did and now she was frozen in her spot as ice magic danced around her. Peoples magic and abilities never intrigued her, but this, this was beyond anything she had seen.

The light reflecting off of the ice as her droplets froze before her eyes was breathtaking and she hardly noticed that she was losing the battle. She never thought rain could look, dare she say, beautiful? But in this state of its frozen glory, it was all she could think about. She envied those who never had to stay in the rain, a jealousy she didn’t want to admit had festered over the years and she gave up trying to despise the element. But before her was something much more than the state she was accustomed to. Ice. The solid purity of her own and she had wondered what it would be like to hold it in her hands.

She had water locked him, pulled out all of the stops and even with that, he stood again and again. He had screamed that the water was boiling, burning his skin but never before had the water gone above warm. It was usually ice cold on the tipping point of freezing but she could feel the warmth surrounding her.

It shocked her just the same. She had heard people talk about feeling the sun kiss their skin, the warmth spreading as they walked, this was the closest she had felt to that. This warm rush of water was beyond what she had known and yet even as it tinged her hands it felt good, it felt freeing, it felt right.

It burned in a way she had craved for so long. Something other than the fridgeness she had grown used too.

She stared at her reflection in her mirror, tears brimming her eyes. How could one person she just met bring her something she had never felt before? She shut the light out in the bathroom and walked back to her bed, passing her window, she stopped and turned.

Above in the sky was the moon. A soft white glow surrounded the orb that she had never seen before. It was breathtaking. A cosmic power the normal people of the world didn’t dare to worship now became a luxury. The sky was clear and she could see the stars, she could sense them all. How could she have lived her entire life never once seeing the moon and the sun? She had been cursed to live in the rain forever.

But he-he made it stop.

When he grabbed her arm, it was like time had stopped. As if everything she had ever known was washed away and all she could see was a bright light encasing him. She was content knowing her death was coming, there was hardly a reason for her to live. Perhaps she wasn't even living, just surviving day after gloomy day.

He pulled her to safety, her back against the roof as she panted heavily. Those clouds above her moved like a curtain for a show, parting just so that she could see the enchanting mystery she had always craved.  

She had never known a blue sky till then. The brightness was almost unbearable as she stared into a sky she had never known. So many emotions flooded her head but it was clear as those ice crystals that her heart was beating for him. She was his enemy, they made that clear from the start but he hadn’t hesitated to save her. He showed a mercy she had never come across.

Another tear fell as she sat on her bed.

“He saved Juvia.” She whispered to herself. A horrific thought came to her. Would she have saved him? She didn’t want to know the outcome because deep down she believed she was good. Beneath the surface of unremosle power, there was that scared little girl who never had anyone to care for her.

The amount of days she sat in that orphanage alone sewing her dolls and praying that the rain stopped one way or another, it was as if she couldn’t remember it. He had done the impossible. He showed her the sky she hadn’t seen. He had shown her kindness.

A thought came to mind as she stood and packed her things. No more would she be known as “the rain woman”. No more would gloom be her only trait. She was determined to find something much more appealing than those bowing by fear. She wanted love. She wanted that warmth of the water constantly and the feeling of the sun on her skin. She understood it now. There was a power strong than her, stronger than any wizard that surrounded the other guild.

She had vowed to be done with love. Promised herself that no man could hurt her again. She was trembling at the thought of being vulnerable once more. The only time she felt warmth was the scorching burn of a fiery rejection and words that burned like lava. It was too much for someone to handle. So she pushed it down, locked the key and threw it as far as she could. The temptation though. The idea of letting her guard down for someone, someone she barely knew? How she fantasized of that moment. She had once believed that someone of her past had done that, but they were all the same. Ashamed of the rain, the rain she caused, the pain she brought.

And after their fight when she collected herself and tried to run back towards her guild, he stopped her.

“For what it's worth I think you’re an incredible wizard. You may not want to believe that your guild is dark and bad but, Fairy Tail is always open.” He had said it with such sincerity that she wasn’t sure if it were true.

“Juvia thinks your magic is just as powerful.” She had said before he gave her a smile and turned away to go back to his other guild mates.

And here she stood, a suitcases packed in the night and a note left on the desk. This guild didn’t deserve any words. Not when they feasted on her ability. Harvested those negative emotions and almost made her fall into the deep end.

She knew what they would say. They would call her a coward. A traitor and a worthless wizard, at first it was enough to stop her. Make her stay and perhaps bring back the clouds. However what he said stuck in her mind.

“I would rather die fighting than let your guild have Lucy! She is one of us and we don’t leave anyone behind.”

Without hesitation he made it clear that every member of the guild was valued no matter how long they had been there, they were a family. If something like that would have happened, if she were threatened, her guild would let her die without a second thought.

Never again would she allow someone to have a hold over her. She spent too many years sheltered by pain and deviation to go on like that.

She grabbed her bag and closed her door.

--

Juvia stood in front of the door. The morning would be better to do this but it was beyond dark outside and she didn’t want her intrusive thoughts pulling her back to her old guild. Softly she knocked, maybe hoping that he wouldn’t hear it and force her back to the isolation of fear.

The open clicked open and her eyes widened slightly as a sleepy Gray leaned against the door frame, shirtless and rubbing his eyes.

“Juvia?” He blinked and watched as her cheek puffed out in red. He looked down to see that he was only in his underwear and let out a yelp as he grabbed a blanket off the chair. “What are you doing here?”

“Um Juvia thought.” She paused and looked towards the ground. “Actually Juvia apologies for disturbing you.” Her back was to him and she began to walk away.

“Wait!” His hand caught hers and he pulled slightly. A jolt of warmth spread through her, burning her like a thousand suns as well as the chill of ice from his own temperature. She looked back at him, eyes wide and lips parted. “Juvia, please just tell me.”

“Such kindness.” She whispered to herself. Her heart rate sped up just like it did earlier and she swallowed a breath. “Juvia was wondering…why did you save her?”

His hand dropped her as if he were shocked that she would dare question his action.

“I wasn’t going to let you die. Enemies or not, I don’t think you deserved that fate. I don’t believe that you are this evil person your guild made you out to be. To be honest when you fell, you look like you didn’t care what happened and I guess I saw myself in you.”

“You saved Juvia because you know what it's like?”

“To feel lost and hopeless I guess.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Sometimes it's hard thinking you deserve to live, that it would be better to harbor all the pain of your past. I don’t know everything about you but that look in your eyes. I couldn’t let you go knowing that there was a brighter future ahead.”

A tear dripped from her eye. Her smile was soft as hugged her arms to her body. “You knew Juvia would join the guild.”

“Well I wouldn’t say I knew, but I was hoping that you would. If you still want to, that is.”

“Juvia would be honored.” She bowed respectfully towards him.

Gray smiled and bowed back. His eyes faced the sky looking towards the moon. “Have you ever seen it?”

“Tonight would be the first. Juvia thinks the stars are remarkable.”

“Lucy knows alot about them, I think you two would be good friends.”

Juvia shook her head as regret twisted in her stomach. “Juvia accepts your kindness and compassion but she doesn’t know if the rest will. Juvia was her rival, she understands if everyone doesn’t see her as a friend.” She frowned slightly.

A laugh came from the ice mage's mouth. “That's the thing about Fairy Tail, no matter where you come from or what your past may have held, there's always going to be a friend waiting.”

Juvia nodded. “Thank you Gray. Juvia will talk to your guild master tomorrow.”

“Like I said before. You’re an incredible wizard, you’ll be just fine.” He winked.

“Have a nice night.”

“You too.”

She watched as he entered his house before turning around and walking towards her hotel. Her shoulders felt lighter and she held her head high for the first time. This was her step in the right direction, this was where her new life began.

Time had slowed and allowed her to pause. A beautiful revelation she never knew could exist came to mind as she just realized that she was in love.

---

She looked down at her leg in the mirror. The voices behind her had faded to the background as she became entranced with the mark of Fairy Tail.

“The blue suits you.” She turned to see Gray standing there with a smile as he was focused on her guild mark.

To say that she was grateful was an understatement. Her mask she wore like a crown had shattered. It unravels in his hands as the months went on and all that was left was the person she wanted to be. She could finally let go of her ghosts, her darkness and begin to forgive herself.  

---

“What do you think?” He asked her as the white sky fell with snow.

Gray had told her of a special spot he used to go to when the first snow came. Past the forest was a clearing of grassy hills that would soon become a winter wonderland. Laid out on one of the hills was a blanket and a few lanterns.

She held her hand out and felt the tiny snowflakes collect on her hand. He sat behind her, one arm snaked around her waist while the other hand rose above hers and created a small flurry of snowflakes.

“Breathtaking.” She gushed. This was the first time she had seen snow fall. Her eyes followed the ice magic as it formed a heart and blew into the sky joining the other flurries. She turned so she could meet his eyes and his normal content face was replaced with a smile.

He leaned forward until their noses touched briefly. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He said and she only had a moment to process his words as his lips landed on hers and her eyes fluttered close.

Her hand went to his cheek as she leaned towards him, her energy matching his and all she could hear was the thumping of her heart. She would be embarrassed to say that she might have dreamt of this moment a little too much but it didn’t matter now. All she knew was that her beloved felt the same.

---

For once she was happy to hear a cry. That little whimper bubbling from the baby's mouth, her baby, she was in disbelief. Perfection was a rarity. No one was perfect, but the being with a tuft of dark blue hair and grey eyes would beg to differ. A child was never in her future. The thought came up randomly but the idea of raising a family wasn’t even a question.

During her missions in her old guild, she would walk past a family. She would see happy faces on everyone and would only be filled with envy and hatred. Disgusting was what it was. How could you love someone else when there was no love for you?

But times change. She would see others holding their child's hand and feel a warmth in her heart at how the children beamed up at their parents. She could sense the love all around them and would smile herself, hoping that it might become a reality for herself.

She would wake in the middle of the night, not from her demons but for her new reason to live. He would babble and tug at the locks of her hair and giggle when water magic danced before his young eyes.

---

It was nights like these that loved the most. The soft rays of moonlight casting shadows through her window as silk sheets wrapped around her bare form. She used to spend nights alone, only her pillow to catch her tears and now delicate fingers trail her backside as she listens to the thumping of his heart. His chest rises and falls as her own follows the rhythm. Her eyes flutter close as her tiredness grows untils it's interrupted by a cool press of lips under her ear.

A peaceful sigh leaves her lips as she tilts her head up to meet dark eyes gazing at her. Flushed cheeks was something she wore often and she lifted off of him to move further up and meet his lips with hers. He pulls her back to him, hating the emptiness between them and adores the way she shivers when his thumb traces her guild mark.

Their love was honest and raw. She had learned that nights like those in the past would haunt him as well. They would keep him up and plague his thoughts with images of death and destruction. But now, they lingered in the shadows, always there but something brighter and beautiful guarded them to peace and she focused on the way he breathed her name then the tears that dropped.

There was an overwhelming amount of happiness that she had gathered after all the years she spent in Fairy Tail. She found friendship and family bonds. Love in all forms that she cherished deeply. Her powers were seen as a gift to help others and lend a hand, not twisted into medled lies that she had spent so long untangling.

Her lips pulled from his slowly and their breaths settled between them. When she looked at Gray she found something more. She had freedom and rebirth. Forgiveness and lust wrapped into something more than love. Their bond was stronger than she could have ever dreamed and when he left kisses over her skin she wanted nothing more in life than to stay frozen in this moment.

He did the impossible. He opened a door, shined a light through her darkness and allowed her to accept the fact that she did deserve to live. She could cherish moments and keep them as her own without the threat of corruption. Her life was now her own to command and she did it with such grace and beauty that Gray couldn’t imagine her being any different. 

“I love you.” He promised and there was no doubt in her mind that he meant it.

“I love you too.” She responded.

The beautiful truth was that she was finally at peace and loved herself. 

---

I hope that you all enjoyed and thank you for being so lovely <3

#Gruvia #Gruvia fic #gray x Juvia #Juvia x Gray #Juvia ft #gray fullbuster #juvia loxar #fairy tail #fairy tail fic #thewritingstar

[wayward-mikaelson]

Midnight Love

Word Count: 3141

About: One the run with Bucky and it gets hot

Characters: Reader, Bucky, Natasha, and Steve

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, Blood, Injury, Death, Sexual Tension, Fingering, Oral (F receiving), Deep Penetration, Choking, Orgasm Denial, Unprotected Sex (Wrap it before you tap it peeps)

A/N: This little piece was inspired by tiktok creator james.bucky.barnes. Please enjoy and go check out their account. 

*This work contains content for the 18 and up crowd

**Please do not copy and past my work anywhere. You can share the link and reblog

***This work is posted on Instagram (Excerpt Only), WattPad, and Archive Of Our Own

****Go follow all my other accounts. Links are in the pinned post on my profile

*****I am currently NOT take any requests. 

Forever Tags: @hobby27 @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @elansaidaris @magssteenkamp @440mxs-wife

Forever Marvel Tags: OPEN

Bucky/Sebastian Tags: OPEN

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You stared at the pool of blood on the ground in front of you. You’re breathing deeply and trying to regain yourself. The phone you threw across the room was shattered into tiny pieces. Tears had streamed down your face. Your body ached and you had a gnarly gash on on your forehead and the blood from that slowly spilled had stopped. The dried blood gentle pinched and pulled at your face. You looked down at your hands and saw they were covered in your victims blood.

Shit, you thought. You used the back of your shirt to wipe the tears from your face and began to look around for a way to clean off your hands and then your eyes met with his. Those bright blue eyes that seemed to follow you just about everywhere. You never could escape those eyes, no matter how hard you tried.

Those eyes always found you.

Lowering the gun he held, he slowly made his way over to you. Your heart raced inside your chest as he got closer. You looked down and frantically looked for the knife you had before. Soon strong, gentle hand pulled you back to your feet. You avoided looking him in the eyes but his cool, metal hand took your chin between his thumb and index finger and lifted your eyes to his.

“Why?” he asked gently. He searched your eyes for anything that could answer his question. Your eyes flickered towards the dead agent on the ground. His throat had been ripped out and there in the middle of his chest was your knife. The man who held your face in his hand, turned back and looked at the body.

“It’s not that simple, Bucky,” your lip quivered. “I had to do this.” Your voice was barely a whisper. Bucky of all people should understand that what you did, had to be done.

Bucky dropped his hand and looked behind him. When he looked back at you, he pulled his ear piece out and shoved it into his pocket. “Come on,” he began to pull you of the room he found you in and towards the fire escape window.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Getting you out of here,” Bucky threw the window open. “The rest of the team is on their up here. If you get out now, you’ll miss Sam’s drone doing a perimeter check.”

You stared at Bucky. The look in his eyes told you that you could trust him. To believe him. But after what you just went through, you still had to ask. “How can I trust you?”

“You just have to, doll,” he held his hand out. “There’s a hotel about three blocks from here. Check in using the name Buchanan and I will meet you there later.” There was a crash near by that made the two of you look towards the apartment’s front door. “Now or never.”

***A Few Hours Later***

You waited for Bucky for almost three hours. You were going to give up when a knock sounded at the door. You walked up to the door and put your hand on the handle. There was was little peep hole that had you standig on your tip toes. It was hard to see who it was.

“Who is it?” you asked aloud, enough for the visiter to hear you.

“Buchanan,” Bucky’s voice called out.

You quickly opened the door and in walked Bucky. He had a two bags in his hands and a serious look on his face. He set the bags down and looked at you and his eyes softened. “It took a ton of lying to get Steve and Tony convinced you weren’t in the building. So you owe me an explanation.”

You turned on your feet and went to sit on the only bed in the room. “I don’t know who they were, but they had my sister.” You looked down at the floor and folded your hands. “They called me and told me if I didn’t kill that specific agent, they would kill her. At first I refused and they sent me a piece of her ear with a note saying that next time it will be her head.”

Bucky walked further into the room. “Y/N,” he said softly. “Why didn’t you tell us. We could have helped you.”

“They said they have eyes and ears everywhere.” You met Bucky’s blue eyes. They held sadness and anger at the same time. Was that possible? you asked yourself. “I simply had no choice. Then when I called them…” Your voice shook and you tried to hold back the tears.

“They killed her didn’t they?” Bucky sat on the bed next to you and wrapped in an arm.

“They told me they had more work for me, and I said no and threw my phone. But not after I heard them say that they will look for me.” You pulled away from Buck and looked at him. You came in not long after that.”

Bucky sighed and looked at the floor. “Well, they’re not the only ones looking for you. The whole team has you up high on the list. As in a ‘drop everything and pursue’ order’.”

You stared into space. You knew you messed up big time. You were smarter than most and should have hinted that something was wrong. Or maybe sent it in a secret message or something. But all that was too late.

You were a wanted woman now.

“I made a few calls and pulled some strings,” Bucky said too fill the silence. “You have a midnight flight to catch. I don’t know where it will take you but I was promised you will have a new identity by the time you get there. When I walk out that door,” Bucky took your chin in his hands again and turn your face to his. “That will be the last time we will ever see each other.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” You suddenly had a thought. A thought that would change Bucky’s life too.

***Three Years Later***

You dropped into the chair and leaned over to take your shoes off when the door to the hotel flew open. Bucky, looking pissed as hell, slammed the door and stalked over to you. “What you did tonight was beyond fucking stupid. You could have ruined the whole thing.”

You sighed heavily and leaned back. “But I didn’t, did I?”

Bucky leaned down and placed both hands on the chair that you sat on. The anger in his eyes, it sent shivers down your spine but you couldn’t help but think of how much it turned you on. The ache between your legs had you slowly pressing your thighs together.

Three years on the run, the only time you and Bucky ever came close to sleeping with each other was a about a year and a half ago. You guys had taken on a job to steal information from a very high and powerful group of people. The two of you talked your way into the party and wondered up to the room you needed to be. Just as the two you were done getting what you needed, you heard voices outside of the door and the doorknob rattle.

In seconds, Bucky had you on the desk top, your dress pushed up passed your thighs. He pressed himself between your legs. His gloved metal hand held the back of your neck, quickly pulling your face towards his. He firmly pressed his lips to yours and to your surprised you sighed right into them. Bucky deepened the kiss. You wrapped an arm around his neck while the other snaked down to the belt he wore. Bucky’s hand slid down from your neck to the zipper of your dress and slowly started to unzip the dress while pushing his tongue passed your lips. Bucky even pressed your small body closer and tighter to his with a small growl in his throat..

For a split moment, the two of you forgot that you were about to be walked in on. You guys hadn’t barely mentioned it since it had happened.

“So what do you think?” Bucky’s voice brought you back to the present. He had leaned away from you and had his arms crossed.

“About what?”

Bucky dropped his head. “You’re impossible sometimes.”

“I’m sorry,” You said finally kicking your shoes off. “I was lost in thought.”

Bucky sighed heavily. “I was talking about meeting that guy at midnight. I wanted you to come with me.”

Those blue eyes met yours and it sent shivers down your spine. “Of course, I’ll go with you. Just let’s get a couple hours of sleep. We haven’t slept in over twenty four hours with this contract job.”

But you didn’t sleep. You laid in bed and listened to the soft snores coming from Bucky in the bed next to yours. You thought back over that last few years. You thought back to when you asked, well more liked begged, Bucky to come with you. You knew right off the bat you wouldn’t be able to do this kind of life on the run all on your own. But Bucky, he had said yes right away.

You both had changed your appearances. You cut your long dark hair short and bleached it. Bucky cut his short too but over time he let it grow out, while yours turned into a auburn like look. But to keep off the Avengers radar, Bucky had to wear thick long sleeves or a suit like coat and gloves to hid his metal arm and hand. The two of you got yourselves into contract work to do other peoples dirty work.

There were times when you were able to get people out of certain countries or states, depending on where were guys were at. Then other times, you or Bucky had no choice but to kill certain people. That kind of work was risky so that the two of you constantly changed appearances and identities.

You rolled over and looked at Bucky’s resting face. You knew that you needed to sleep but you couldn’t. You sat up and rolled out of bed and walked to the bathroom. You splashed yourself with some water on your face. As you dried your face you felt a hand on your shoulder turning you around.

Bucky stood there staring at you. Those blue eyes dug hooks into you, holding you where you stood. The sleep slowly disappearing from his eyes. The hand on your shoulder slid up to cup your chin. He cradled your face for a few minutes before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss was gentle and slowly. The way your lips and his moved together was like a dance. You slowly wrapped both your arms around his waist and pulled your body closer to him. Bucky’s metal arm slinked around your waist to hold you in place. He spun the two of you around, his hand left your face so he could pick you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. His lips never even once left yours.

Bucky began to walk you back into the room as he slid his tongue on your bottom lip.You moaned softly into his mouth and let him in. Bucky’s body started to shift and you realized that he was on the bed. He lowered you down and pulled back from you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that again,” he whispered bringing his metal hand up to your face. His thumb brushed your face so gently. “Right this time.” He added and let is hand slide down your face. He pressed his lips softly to yours again.

Down your chest.

Down  your stomach.

His metallic fingers paused at the elastic of your pajamas. Bucky pulled back just a bit to stare into your eyes. He looked for your permission to continue. With a small smile and a little nod, he dove back to your lips while pushing his fingers passed the elastic bands. Bucky’s finger had not trouble finding your throbbing clit. He began to rub it in firm but slow.

You began to breathe deeply as the pleasurable sensation sent small shock waves throughout your body. “Bucky,” you whispered against his lips as you began to slowly squirm around. Feeling the pleasure grow stronger.

In that moment Bucky slipped a metallic finger inside of you. You gasped and grabbed at Bucky’s hair. He began pull in and out, twist and curl his finger until you were gripping tightly to this hair and moaning into his mouth. Bucky then slipped in a second finger and repeated the actions. You turned your head to the side to get a breath of air but you let out a moan like scream as you came closer to your orgasm.

As you bucked into Bucky’s hand, he whispered dirty but sweet encouragement into your ear. “So tight. So wet. All for me.” “Oh Doll, you should see yourself squirming.” “You like that? You like it when I fuck you with my metal fingers?” “Oh Doll, so close.”

Bucky had his fingers out and was sliding down and before you could respond. You felt your bottoms and underwear being ripped away from your body. You lifted your head in time to see Bucky dive between your legs. His scruffy face tickled you making you gasp softly. You felt his tongue lick a slow stripe between your folds before he shoved his tongue right into you.

“Fuck,” you cried out. Your hand flew to Bucky’s head and pushed him deeper into you. “Oh my God, don’t stop.” you panted out in between breaths. Bucky didn’t stop. He kept on going until you clawing at his hair, whimpering out almost every curse word in the book, and bucking into his face until you felt the orgasm wash over you. You cried out Bucky’s name.

Your body was still recovering from the intense orgasm when Bucky slinked his way back up towards you. The remnants of our orgasm still on his face. He dove for your face and kissed your hard and deep. His tongue pushing passed your lips and pulling back while bitting down on your bottom lip.

Bucky lined himself up with your entrance but before he slipped in, he teased your folds. You squirmed and reached down between you the two of you. Bucky’s metal hand grabbed it and pinned it above your head along with your other hand.

“Tsk tsk, no, Doll” Bucky’s voice was low and dark. “You’re mine.”

With that, Bucky pushed himself inside of you. You cried out softly and arched yourself into Bucky’s chest. Bucky started out slow pushing in and out of you. Not taking his blue eyes off of you but to only kiss you, keeping the rhythm of his thrusts the same.

“Oh, Y/N, you feel so much better than I imagined,” he breathed hard. “Jesus fuck.”

Bucky took his flesh hand and grabbed your left leg. He place your leg up on his shoulder, and the sudden change of position had you rolling your eyes into the back of your head. Bucky’s pace change and he began to push himself as deep as he could. It had you squeaking and trying to free your hands from his grasps. In a split second your hands were free but were being pinned by his flesh hand now. Bucky’s metal hand found its way to your neck and he began to put pressure around it. The mixture of small pain and pleasure had you closing your eyes as you felt Bucky pick up the pace once again and start to really pound into you.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you squeaked and moaned. You felt your second orgasm coming on hard and fast. “Oh my, I’m close.” In seconds, you were seeing flashes of white as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You screamed out and felt a gush of liquid spill from you. Bucky soon came after you. His warm, cum filling you up as he grunt out your name.

Bucky collapsed and rolled of you. “Fuck,” he was breath hard. “That was amazing.” He rolled over and took your wrists in his hands and rubbed them. He place his flesh hand gently on your neck and rubbed it as well. “I didn’t hurt you did I?” The hint of concern in his voice melted you.

“No,” you whispered as you rolled on your side and met his gaze. “That was the best sex I ever had.” You noticed your voice was drifting off and that your eyes were getting heavy.

“Really?” Bucky pulled you into his arms and began to rub your shoulders. “Well, you’re the best I ever had.” Bucky looked down at you and saw your eyes slowly closing. “Get some rest, Doll. I’ll wake you in an hour.”

***Shortly After Midnight***

Your guys contact was late.  But you guys didn’t dare leave. This guy you were meeting was going pay you guys a lot of money.

“Where do you think he is?” you asked to just fill the silence. The sound of the ocean next to you was calming but you needed something else to hear than the the crashing of waves.

“Other than here, I don’t know,” Bucky sounded annoyed. You guys had been standing on this pier for nearly twenty minutes. Bucky slinked an arm around your waist and kissed the top of your head. “This whole time I could have been having my way with you again.”

You bit you lip and turned towards him. You ignored the ache between your legs. “What’s stopping you from throwing me on the hood of this car and doing just that?” Your hands began to slink down to his belt.

“Probably that,” Bucky’s head gestured behind you. You look and saw a dark car driving up towards you guys.

“I got this,” you backed up and shook out your hair and made your boobs look perkier. Bucky held back a chuckle. “It’s worked before.” You turned around and stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the figures step out of the car. “Shit,” you whispered.

“Hey guys,” Natasha’s leaned on the side of the car while Steve stared at you and Bucky.

Bucky slowly pulled you behind him. “If you want her, you’ll have to kill me.”

Natasha and Steve exchanged looks. “No one is dying tonight,” Steve took a few steps forward. The grip Bucky had your arm tightened.

“We know the truth,” Natasha looked at you and you knew exactly what she meant. “You guys are super hard to track.”

The End

#marvel #marvel family #marvel fandom #marvel fan #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fangirl #marvel imagine #marvel daily #marvel oneshot #mcu #mcu family #mcu fandom #mcu fan #mcu fnfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fangirl #mcu imagine #mcu daily #mcu oneshot #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes daily #sebastian stan #the winter soldier

[highsviolets]

steady

pairing: obi-wan x jedi!reader. set during TCW.

summary: you’re sick. he’s war-weary. mutual support ensues. shameless fluff. 

word count: 2k+ 

rating: G

A/N: this is my first time publishing fic! also my first time writing obi-wan lol but the muses (aka, tumblr + watching tcw + i’ve gone to the doctor too many damn times in the past month) insisted so I had to obey. all comments + criticism + reblogs are welcome; the ask box is always open for a chat! Enjoy, my darlings xx. 

STEADY, a fic by corellians-only 

The standard issue grey wool was coarse under your skin, but its raspy texture was lost on you as you gripped the blanket even harder, clutching it to your chest.

Tears slid down your face and joined into the fabric balled in your hands. Your body mimicked the position of your blanket, curled into a ball as the stubborn pain in your knees twinged every so often, heckling you with reminders of your insolent body.

You took a deep breath and attempted to focus your eyes, peering out the small transparisteel window. Few Jedi were granted such luxuries, but you had been granted such an apartment by the Council on account of your health. The increased exposure to light was supposed to be good for you, the doctors had argued, providing reams of medical evidence linking light exposure to increased rates of recovery.

Usually, watching the lanes of speeder traffic was soothing. It centered you, gave you an outlet for your excess mental energy. Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, your closest friend, would often join you for afternoon tea and he would listen, bemused, as you composed stories about the speeders glimmering in the light of Coruscant’s setting sun.

How you have energy for anything else is beyond me, Obi-Wan would always say, chuckling and shaking his head in fond exasperation The way you carry on, I’m amazed you even sleep.

You always insisted that yes, I do too sleep and would claim to bar him from any more stories until he apologized. He, of course, would oblige gracefully, and would return the next day, week, month — whenever he wasn’t marshaling clone armies in the Outer Rim — always with a new box of tea to share and a few stories of his own.

Now, though, the window seemed to mock you, representing the farce that was your supposed recovery. Your traitorous knee shot through with pain again and you groaned aloud, stifling the noise with the blanket and began crying in earnest.

Force, but none of it made sense. Just a week ago you had been cleared to re-enter active duty, been fitted for new armor, assigned your own command, and now you were sidelined until further notice.

Evidence of substantial musculoskeletal deformities. Possible complications with other bodily systems. Maybe even the brain. Further testing needed. Impossible to return to active duty at this time.

The Two-Onebee’s dispassionate diagnosis repeated on a loop in your head, and it seemed that the more you tried to quash it down, the more insistent his voice became.

You tried turning away from the window, to find a new distraction, but the effort was too much.

Kriff, you swore, before catching hold of your rising anger and releasing it into the Force. You repeated the Jedi Code, first in your head, then aloud, in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“A Jedi knows not pain.” The voice was smooth and steady — like silk, you thought randomly, the errant thought galloping through your head, if it had the strength of velvet.

“Well maybe you don’t, Master Kenobi, but this Jedi certainly does.”

The acerbic retort left your mouth before you even registered the thought. You sighed, a sound that amplified your bitterness and regret. You hadn’t even realized he had entered your quarters.

“I’m sorry, Obi,” you apologized, lowering your eyes to stare at the now-wet blanket in your hands. “I didn’t mean it.”

Obi-Wan began to cross the room with long strides. “Yes, you did,” he corrected softly, speaking as he walked. “You do feel pain.”

He had reached your bed and stared down at your prone form. Maker, he was tall.

For once, you allowed yourself to appreciate his body— tall, broad shouldered, with a narrow waist that suggested he could easily best any being in hand-to-hand combat. His strawberry blonde hair had been cut recently, reduced from shoulder length to the style he had sported shortly after becoming a Master and taking on Anakin as his unruly apprentice. His neatly trimmed beard, though, made him look every bit the distinguished Master Jedi.

Your eyes dragged over him lazily before meeting his. Their cerulean orbs usually emanated serenity, like a calm day on the ocean world of Mon Calamari. But you saw only riptides of pain — and was that fear?

“I just saw the medical report,” he said steadily, holding your gaze. “I’m so very sorry.”

You nodded absently, distracted. Something was wrong here.

And that’s when it hit you.Two things were missing, actually.

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’re wearing your armor, Obi-Wan,” you stated slowly. “You don’t usually wear it when you’re in the Temple. And,” you added accusingly, “you’re shielding your Force aura from me!”

Obi-Wan took a step back, obviously surprised at the turn in the conversation. Without preamble, he joined you on the mattress rather unceremoniously. He sighed.

“I’ve just been remanded new orders. I’m to deploy almost immediately.” His voice was hard and brittle, a far cry from its usual dulcet tones.

“Oh,” was all you could manage. “Grevious again?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. A lock of hair drifted onto his forehead, forming an arching shadow on his smooth skin.

“No, some trigger-happy Separatist general thought they could institute a few system wide blockades and get away with it.”

“Which system?”

The General’s laugh was like molasses that hadn’t been extracted in time — deep and smooth, but weary and bitter. “No place you’ve heard of, I can assure you of that.”

Sensing an opportunity to draw him out of his reverie, you pouted playfully, sticking out your lower lip and widening your eyes. You reach out to tug at the trailing sleeve of your robe but there’s nothing there but the cold greaves of his armor. Your hand meets his instead, trailing the outside of his palm in a delicate touch that nevertheless caught his attention.

Obi-Wan looked down at your touching hands, then turned his gaze on yours. The heat in your cheeks onset rapidly, but you ignored the discomfort — A Jedi knows not pain — and pursued your mission.

“Try me,” you said as impishly as you could manage when it felt like you were being x-rayed by his eyes. “I was given the Academic Award of our Padawan class, after all. Master Koon said I had makings of a real archivist.”

That made Obi-Wan laugh, a soft sound that echoed in the sparse chambers. “What you leave out, dear one, is that he finished his sentence with the words if you didn’t have such a mouth on you.”

A wry smile settled on your lips. “Hm, that is true,” you conceded. You tried to pull yourself up again to face him properly, but faltered, crashing back down onto the mattress with a soft swish of sheets.

Immediately his brow furrowed in concern. “Here, permit me,” he instructed in a low voice, and fierfek if that commanding tone didn’t make your cheeks drift into an even brighter shade of red.

Obi-Wan clasped your hand firmly and used his weight to counterbalance your own, placing his other hand in the small of your back to guide your ascent.

You gave him watery smile as you settled down beside him. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he responded mildly, still holding onto your hand.

“So,” you said, “uh, a blockade? Will you be bringing Jedi Skywalker?”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Obi-Wan announced suddenly.

“Oh?” you questioned, tilting your head in confusion. Obi-Wan was silent for a long moment.

Trust your feelings, your Master had always instructed you as an apprentice. You think too much.

You reached out in the Force, extending your senses. Your aura brushed up against Obi-Wan’s, which, you realized, was startlingly similar to your own just minutes earlier. Surface skimming revealed that he was tense, resigned, confused, but with a lingering respect to his duty and something else, just below the surface, that you couldn’t quite place.

Amplifying your presence, you sent him waves of calm and reassurance, urging him to let you in.

“You know you can talk to me, Obi.”

He nodded, the wayward locks of hair bobbing with his movement. “I know, Y/N. It’s just —“ he paused, searching for the right word — “so bloody complicated.”

“Isn’t everything, these days?” you whispered back.

The silence dragged on. You withdrew your presence and occupied yourself by going through a mental checklist of what hurt and what didn’t. Judging by the color of the sky, the Two-Onebee would be arriving shortly to deliver your evening medicine and file another medical report.

Finally, he spoke, the words coming haltingly. “I’m not afraid of death, Y/N.” Obi-Wan looked down at your intertwined hands as though they possessed the secrets of the galaxy — or at the very least, the magic bullet that would end the Clone Wars.

“What I’m afraid of,” he finally continued, “is what I will miss out on if I die.”

Well, then. “What to say to a disillusioned General” wasn’t a course that you ever saw offered at the Temple, but he was your oldest friend, and you had to try.

“You’ve lived a brave life, Obi-Wan. You’ve stayed true to the Code and conducted yourself with honor.” You squeezed his hand. “I have no doubt that if you fall in these wars, it will be in the pursuit of peace and justice, and that you will be welcomed into the Force.”

Obi-Wan shook his head again, and you sensed a spike of anxiety in his Force aura. “No, it’s not that. I’m not afraid of dying,” he repeated. “I’m afraid of leaving behind a life I could have lived. I’m afraid of —“ he took a deep breath and met your eyes. “I’m afraid of not coming home to you.”

Your jaw dropped of its own accord, but he kept speaking. “I’m —“ he stumbled over the words — “I’m afraid of never seeing you again. I’m afraid that I’ll come home, for good, and you won’t be here anymore. And I’m afraid of my fear. Fear is the path to the dark side. We are supposed to be above attachment, I know, but I can’t just very well ignore the fact that I love you.”

“Perfect love casts out fear.” The words came to your mind unbidden, like the lyrics of a childhood lullaby. “You said it yourself, Obi-Wan. Love is not attachment. Love does not cause fear.”

This time, he was the one who squeezed your hand, eyes searching yours wildly, daring to hope. “Is it —? Are you —?”

You reached up and cupped a hand to his face, running your thumb over his cheek soothingly. “What’s this?” you teased lightly. “The Negotiator with nothing to say?”

“Honest to entropy, sweetling, I —“

You cut him off with a kiss, chastely pressing your lips to his. Come here, your Force aura beckoned to his, come see how much I love you.

He readily agreed in body and spirit, drawing him near to you even as his presence merged with yours. You sighed into him, bringing one hand to curl into his hair as the other disentangled from his fingers and the other slid around his neck

Obi-Wan gave as good as he got. Your earlier hurt at his shielded Force presence dissipated as he opened himself and permitted his aura mingled with yours, the combined strength of both your presences almost overwhelming in a chorus of home safe here always yours. He, too, lifted on hand to settle in your hair, running his fingers through your tresses as he mouth gingerly explored yours. His palm settled on your waist, and you could feel its heat through your thin robes.

A few moments later the two of you separated, both a little dumbfounded at what had just transpired.

“Was that okay?” he murmured.

“Always the gentleman,” you jibed, but without any true heat. You settled your head on his shoulder and let him sense your peace and contentment in the Force. He was strong and steady beneath you, just as he always had been, you thought.

Obi-Wan smiled and dropped a kiss to your hair. “I need to make my way to the hangar,” he said, regret tinging his voice. “I can’t keep Anakin waiting.”

“We can’t have that; Jedi Skywalker may take matters into his own hands,” you joked. “Remember when we were on Nar Shaddaa?”

He laughed again, and warmth suffused into your chest. “I like to forget about Nar Shaddaa. Unless you’re referring to when you thought that Captain Rex was one the enemy commandos and almost launched a grenade at him before I stopped you?” Obi-Wan retorted, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, in that case, I like to forget about Nar Shadda too.” You laughed as he stood up slowly, taking care to not exacerbate your aches and pains.

You looked up at him from the edge of the bed, smiling fondly. “Don’t get killed out there, Kenobi.”

“Don’t let the medics boss you around. I don’t like the look of that Two-OneBee. Maybe it’s Separatist infiltration droid.”

You rolled your eyes. “I think you’re spending too much time with Jedi Skywalker and his Padawan. You’ve become so dramatic, Obi.”

Obi-Wan gently took your face in his hands. “My dear, where do think they learned it?”

“Maybe you should teach me all you know,” you said breathlessly.

“Maybe I should,” he responded evenly, but his eyes darkened to indigo and you knew he had caught your meaning.

“Is that a promise?”

Obi-Wan bent down and kissed your lips one last time. “Ask when I get home,” he ordered against your mouth.

He straightened and began making his way to the door. “Obi-Wan! Wait!” you cried.

Obi-Wan turned. “Yes?”

“I love you.”

He grinned, and his hair glinted in the last vestiges of sun reflecting off of the Coruscanti skyscrapers.

“I know, dear one. I love you too.”

Fin.

#obi-wan fic #obi-wan x reader #cg's og's #cristina writes #sw fic #obi wan fic #obi wan x reader #tcw fic #obi-wan x you #obi wan x you

[nekoannie-chan]

Trick

Pairing: Surprise! Is tricky.

Word count: 1064 words.

Summary: You, Brock, Wanda and Pietro joined the Avengers after what happened to HYDRA, are you really part of the good guys?

Warnings: Death of character, betrayal, nightmare.

A/N: This is my entry to the @tansypoisoning​‘s Spooky Challenge with the prompts list 1 #4, list 2 #4 and list 3 #6.

Reader is a mutant and also enhanced by HYDRA’s experiments.

The nightmare is in italics.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou​ @navybrat817​ @angrythingstarlight​ @shield-agent78​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @charmed-asylum​ @pandaxnienke​ @real-fbi​ @smokeandnailz​ @adriannajackson​ 

You took your bracelet and put it on your arm, and then you looked at your reflection for the last time in the mirror before leaving your room and going to the kitchen. 

"Good morning, are you ready for our training today?" You said to Wanda. 

You two were best friends since you were at HYDRA. When HYDRA's uprising began, Brock immediately went to the facility for you, Wanda and Pietro to take you somewhere and were safe, in the end, the four of you joining the Avengers.

"Of course I do, but first eat the pancakes I cooked," Wanda replied. 

"Pancakes? I'm surprised Pietro didn't eat them.” 

"He's on a mission with the others, they will be back soon.” 

Brock entered the kitchen at that moment and came up to you.

 “Let me see what you have.” 

“A knife!”

He raised an eyebrow when he saw that you and Wanda started laughing after what you answered, he shook his head. 

"Pancakes, do you want?” Wanda offered. 

Halfway through the training, the rest of the team made it to base, you and Wanda looked each other. 

"It's time," you said, she nodded and you held your hands.

 Steve opened his eyes, didn't even remember when he had fallen asleep or if he was tired after the mission. Did he come to see you? If he didn't, you'd probably be mad at him. 

A scream caused him to leave the room with his shield, something had happened, perhaps some intruder had entered the base – that sounded ridiculous and almost impossible – or Pietro had eaten all the food or left everyone without breakfast again. He heard murmurs in one of the offices, something telling him things were wrong, he hastened the step to get there when Natasha stopped him. 

"No, Steve, you better not come in, we're going to find the responsible...” 

Steve pushed her away, he didn't even notice who was at the door, just pushed them, never in his life had imagined a scene like that, and your body lay on the floor... you were dead. 

How had it happened? Nothing made sense, he had to find the person responsible, and somehow he had to figure out what had happened.

 Desperation…the desperation in Steve was growing and you felt it increase every minute, you were enjoying what was going on. You smiled when you realized the feeling Steve was having, you were achieving your goal, every time you sensed despair, anger, any kind of negative feeling, you felt stronger, it was like a source of energy for you, the more feelings of that kind they had, the longer you would get them to be having nightmares, so you could take them to the facility and complete the plan. 

You bit your lips, maybe you had to make the nightmare worse, anything that kept them inside it, when they woke up everything would be different, the mission would be successful and you would obtain the recognition that you desired.

 Steve had lost the track of time, took his mobile phone, wanted to see the last photos that were taken together, when he opened the gallery he discovered some very strange photos, maybe he took them before falling asleep... maybe they were clues about what happened and so they could find the culprit. He went to Tony's office to check the evidence. 

As soon as Steve told him what happened, Tony started analysing his mobile phone, a few hours later he called everyone into the boardroom.  

"Cap, there's nothing on your mobile phone, there are only the last pictures you and Y/N took," Tony said.

“B-but… I don’t understand…” 

“We have checked the security footage three times and found nothing. There are also no signs of forced entries. No fingerprints.” 

“-My phone! I took pictures, I know I took-!” 

“We found nothing on your phone, in the SD card, or the Cloud. There’s nothing.” 

“That’s impossible!” 

“We searched as much as we could. I’m sorry, but… are you sure-” 

“I know what I saw! I know it! Look again!” 

“You aren’t imagining things. It couldn’t have been your mind. It couldn’t, it couldn’t, it couldn’t”

"It's not true, I know what I saw...” 

“You must accept the fact that Y/N is dead!” Tony speculated. 

"There's another situation," Nat interrupted, the fight was starting to get worse and it would probably end badly. 

“What?” 

 "Someone kidnapped the twins, maybe it was the same person who murdered Y/N," Natasha continued. 

"Perhaps Y/N wanted to stop them from being taken away or tried to kidnap her too”.

"Hey, come and watch this," Tony asked. He had found some files with recordings from the night before, the problem now was that such recordings, Steve was who committed the crime.

 Brock finally entered the gym, knew he had to give you time and space so that they could execute the plan, however, he believed that enough time was enough, if something went wrong he had to inform himself, although he had an alternative plan, he had to admit that he was surprised, he never thought it would be so easy. 

"Did you manage to subdue everyone?”  

"It was easy, I never told them all my powers," you replied as he put his arm around your waist and kissed your neck. “They thought you were in love with Rogers.”

"With my powers, it's a very simple thing.” 

"Are they unconscious?” Pietro questioned coming in. 

"Not exactly, they're in a deep sleep, they won't wake up until I want to, while they're living a nightmare, Wanda’s courtesy.” 

“Sinthea will be very happy," Wanda said.

"Deceiving the Avengers has never been easier," you said as you watched Pietro and Brock start getting others into the van to take them to the place where he would continue experiments. “We should make sure they can't escape if they wake up for some reason.” 

"They thought they were done with HYDRA," Pietro said as he began to tie them up. 

"No one suspected ‘the poor victims of the experiments of the most tyrannical organization in history’, though I must admit that Brock's story was very moving.” 

"I've had a question for a long time, why Brock wasn't jealous when you were with Steve?” Wanda questioned as you got into the vehicle. 

"Because the plan was designed by Brock and me," you replied, and Brock started the vehicle.

#TansySpookyChallenge2020 #steve rogers x reader

[noodlecupcakeswritings]

Ownership - Chapter 15 (A Kylo RenxOC AU)

Cora Ardmore and Kylo Ren work for rival companies, but they don’t know that until after they spend the night together. Once their identities are revealed to each other it’s a question of who will cave first?

This fic is pure porn, pure kinky porn.

Please leave comments, kudos and reblogs if you like it. If you would like to be tagged let me know.

Warnings: Language, Armitage Hux is still a warning, Implied smut, Degrading language 

Chapter 15

Cora Ardmore

Kylo had set up a meeting between Armitage Hux and I. He was due to arrive around two, and I had my questions already prepared. The buzzer went off and Kylo answered the door. As I heard them talking in the hallway, I pressed the record button on my phone not wanting to miss a single word. Even as I waited in the living room on the couch. Hearing their footsteps approach, I got to my feet, ready to greet Armitage. I’d done a quick Google search on him already. The two of them entered the living room, Armitage dressed in a more casual suit. His red hair wasn’t gelled back like in the pictures I’d seen of him.

Offering my hand, he took it giving a firm handshake. Meeting his sea green gaze, I offered a kind smile. “Thank you for agreeing to meeting with me Armitage, I really appreciate it,” I greeted. “How could I say no to a woman of your talents?” He responded flirtatiously. Kylo cleared his throat as if reminding Armitage he was still in the room. Obviously Kylo didn’t completely trust Armitage due to the look he gave him. Armitage ignored it and made himself comfortable on the couch. There was a sense of arrogance around him, one that I felt would quickly get annoying.

“I’ll be in my office if you need me,” Kylo directed that at me. Nodding, I smiled as if to say I could handle it. I’d dealt with plenty of men like Armitage as a journalist, and I could deal with them plenty more times. Kylo left us to it. Whilst this wasn’t my home, I always like to be as welcoming and accommodating as I could to any interviewee. “Can I get you anything before we start? Some water or coffee?” I asked. “Tea, black. Please.” Making my way to the kitchen, I made a start on the tea. I remembered once that Rose had told me the way people took their tea, reflected their personalities. And black tea was bitter.

Once I’d added milk and sugar to my cup, I headed back to the living room. Taking my seat on the couch, I took a sip of my tea and was ready to start. “So you’re the head of the missiles and fire control?” I asked. “Correct.” “And when did you join the company?” “Around 2005.” “You’ve worked there for fourteen years? That’s quite the commitment.” Armitage smiled softly and sipped his tea, “I’m quite ambitious.”

“Did you always work in your department or were you a part of a different one to begin with?” I questioned. “I started as an intern at the recommendation of my father. After a year, I was determined to be more than someone who delivers coffee and sorts the mail. And manufacturing doesn’t interest me. I worked in accounting, HR, investing before I finally got through to the main sectors,” he explained. This could seemingly work in our favour. Armitage had worked in plenty of departments meaning if need be, he could pull some strings and get any information we desired. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I continued the interview. “And you took over from your father in 2015 after…” I trailed off, not really wanting to bring it up, but I had to get the facts. “After he fell down the stairs and broke his neck. Yes,” he finished the sentence for me oh so casually.

“I’m sorry, that must have been a hard time for you.” “Not at all.” Judging by Armitage’s tone, it was clear they hadn’t gotten along. And it wasn’t my place to invade on that subject. Armitage and I went back and forth for the next hour. He answered most of the questions I had honestly and thankfully his answers weren’t one worded. At base level this was a casual interview, as if I were writing a biopic piece on Armitage. Mainly so if it fell into the wrong hands it wouldn’t look too suspicious.

I reached for my phone and stopped It recording. I’d review the audio later. Armitage’s gaze fell to my neck, a soft smirk at the corner of his lips. “So how long has Ren been eyeing you up for this position?” He asked. “I’m sorry?” I responded. “It’s quite clear this is more than a professional relationship.” That’s when I remembered the hickeys on my neck that Kylo had left only hours before Armitage was due to arrive. Quickly, I covered them with my hair once more.

“Is he paying you for this?” Armitage asked. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize my relationship with Kylo was up for discussion.” “Ah, so he doesn’t pay you in cash. He pays you in other ways. I must say I’m quite disappointed I would have thought a woman like you would have known better around a man like that. And if he’s not paying you and makes you a slut, not a whore.” I scoffed, completely taken aback by this sudden change of tone. I wasn’t sure quite what I had done to deserve this from him. But I sure was pissed off.

“I am neither of those things, thank you. And it is certainly not your place to comment on mine and Kylo’s relationship.” I said firmly, still trying to keep a professional tone. “You have my number If you ever get bored of him. Or when his lack of personality starts to get on your nerves.” “Lack of personality is better than being an insufferable asshole. And your arrogance is astounding. I think it’s time you left Armitage.” Armitage agreed, getting to his feet and straightening his jacket. I wanted to wipe that cocky little smirk off his face as he walked to the door.

As I held the door open, I didn’t thank him for his time. I waited until he was outside of the house before slamming the door in his face. In the future, I would not be dealing with him if he continued to be such an arrogant prick. Kylo stood in the doorway of the living room. “Did you get everything you needed?” He asked. “You could have pre warned me.” “I figured it best you find out for yourself first-hand.”

“He commented on our relationship and called me a slut.” Kylo seemed unimpressed, but not surprised by this revelation. “I’ll have a word with him when I see him next. Are you alright?” “Fine, just pissed off. Don’t think I’ve ever had an interviewee that was so rude.” “Well, don’t let it put a damper on the rest of our weekend. Or do I need to make you forget about your encounter with him?” He added the last bit suggestively.

“You know I’m not gonna say no, but tomorrow I want to interview you.” “Sure.” Kylo approached and put his hands on my shoulders. His touch was warm and comforting. He pressed his lips to mine in a firm and possessive kiss. A kiss that would make me forget about my encounter with Armitage Hux. “Where do you want me to fuck you, Kitten?” He asked. “I don’t know is there anywhere that you haven’t fucked me in your house yet?” He chuckled, his lips against my neck, “I’m sure we can find somewhere.”

Taglist: @sweetfictionalworld​​​, @sweetsec-93​​​, @cltex84​​​, @jana-banana-fana​​​, @dark-night-sky-99​​​, @little-laamb​​​, @jynzandtonic​​​, @blackredrose27​​​​, @neeharlow​​​​

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[talatomaz]

i’m home | maggie sawyer x sawyer!reader x lena luthor

a/n: i’ve been rewatching supergirl and i love maggie and lena so much (this is super long so sorry in advance)

this is based during s2/s3 so lena is 23, maggie is in her late 20s and reader is 20/21 so when maggie was kicked out of her house at 14, r was 5/6

warnings: mentions of torture, abuse, scars

word count: 4.7k

masterlist | request list | request rules

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

A home is where you feel comfortable.

A home is where you’re able to share your deepest thoughts and feelings.

A home is where you’re supposed to feel safe.

A home was something you never had.

You thrashed in your captors’ hold. Their hands were firmly gripped on your arms, holding you in place as they dragged you back to that room. You shuddered at the thought of it. It was barely a room. More like a dungeon filled to the brim of weapons used to torture the inhabitant.

Your hands were bound behind your back. Now had it been rope or even cable ties, you would have been able to free yourself. But because of your nature, they had placed metal cuffs around your wrists, preventing you from escaping.

When you reached the room, they placed you on the metal table and bound your legs to the table and then removed the cuffs from your wrists and repeated the movement. Now chained to the table, they pressed a button at the side of the table which you knew would help prevent you from escaping.

The two men then moved to either side of the door and turned to face the woman who entered.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite experiment.”

You gave her a cold look and remained silent.

“Quiet today? Don’t worry. Soon we’ll have you screaming.” She chuckled.

She then turned swiftly to the door where another man stood, “We’ve got a problem in cell B.”

She inaudibly whispered something to the man who nodded and left before turning back to face you.

“I’ve got something to take of but don’t worry, I’ll be back.” She then told the two men to stand guard and keep an eye on you.

When she left, you rested your head against the cold metal and then jumped at the sound of shouts.

This was it. It was time.

You looked over at the men who had their backs to you and then closed your eyes and concentrated. Immediately, a key appeared in the lock of your cuffs. You twisted your hand so you could turn the key and free your wrist. Then you did the same to the other as the men in front of you were none-the-wiser. Once freeing your arms, you pressed the button and suddenly felt the rush of your energy coursing through your body.

The power barrier was broken.

You quickly removed the cuffs around your ankles and jumped off the table. At the sound, the two men turned and, after their moment of shock at seeing you liberated, they ran towards you. As much fun as it would have been to fight them, you didn’t have time so you teleported away to another part of the warehouse building you were in.

You found the room you were looking for and teleported in and held the man sitting at the desk in a chokehold before he lost consciousness and slumped against his chair. You began typing on the computer and with a few clicks, you heard numerous buzzes and couldn’t help but smile.

Everyone was free.

When you were about to leave, something in the corner caught your eye and upon realising what it was, you pocketed it and teleported outside the building. What you saw brought another smile to your face. Everyone was running out of the building, using their abilities to overpower the guards. You roamed the crowd and then locked eyes with her.

You ran to an isolated area and waited for her to follow. Low and behold, out from the shadows she came, alongside two of her goons.

“Now, now, back down Miss Sawyer. You know you’re no match for us.”

“On the contrary, it appears you are no match for me.” You brought the small device, that you took earlier, into view and channeled your powers through it.

Grinning at the woman’s face dropping, you spoke, “Goodbye, Lillian Luthor.” You pressed the button and teleported away.

***

Opening your eyes, you were stunned at your surroundings.

You were stood next to a modernised coffee house called CCJitters. You entered and the noise of numerous conversations filled your ears. You chose a high table and sat down, sneakily listening to the two people sat at the table beside you.

“Cisco, I don’t wanna hear it. You and your meta-human names are driving me crazy.” A brunette said, shaking her head.

“But Cait, it’s a good one. Please.” A long-haired man replied.

“No, Cisco. Tell Barry or HR. I don’t wanna know.” She said, stifling a laugh at the man’s sad face.

“Excuse me,” you interrupted the duo.

“Hi.” The brunette smiled so you did the same.

“I was just wondering, where exactly am I? I just got off the train and I actually have no idea where I am.”

“Oh, you’re in Central City.” The woman replied.

“Yep, home to the Flash.” The man named Cisco added.

At the mention of the metahuman, your eyes widened as you forced to keep the shock from showing your face.

Shit. Forget being in the wrong town. You were on the wrong Earth.

“Thank you. Bye.” You got out of your seat and ran out of the coffee shop and into an alley.

How on Earth did you get here?

You’d heard of the Flash because he had appeared in National City a year ago and you’d overheard Lillian’s curiosity about the man from a different earth.

It was one of the reasons why she initially kidnapped you.

You had been studying Everett’s many-worlds theory at National City University, trying to create a device allowing you to explore different universes. Lillian wanted to adapt your device so she could travel in time and prevent aliens from arriving on Earth.

You took out the device and sighed, you needed a big power surge in order to get back to your earth. Meaning you were stuck here for the time being. Great.

You began to wander around the city when you encountered a news stand. Picking up a science magazine, you flicked through it and then paused when an announcement caught your attention.

“Attend the grand re-opening of the infamous Star Labs.” You murmured to yourself as you skimmed through the article and learned about the particle accelerator explosion that caused normal humans to gain powers and become meta-humans.

This place would definitely contain enough power for you to get home. Closing the magazine, you placed it back on the stand and set off towards Star Labs.

You quickly joined a crowd of people and entered the building. You looked around, taking in your surroundings. It was a large infrastructure, renovated to look like a museum of sorts. You continued walking with the group before noticing a blocked off section. You headed towards there and then teleported inside. You found yourself in a lab that was filled with computers and numerous amounts of high tech equipment.

But what caught your eye was the black box situated at the centre of the table.

Opening it, you gasped at its contents. Inside was a sleek black mask that, whilst simple, had a certain panache to it. You removed it from the box and placed it on yourself. Looking in the reflection of the metal table, you smiled.

It did well to hide your identity.

“What are you doing in here?”

You stilled, turning around to find yourself face to face with a, fashionably dressed, woman. She pressed her finger to her ear and spoke, “It’s Iris, we may have a problem here, Flash.”

In the blink of an eye, the latter appeared, staring at you.

“Who are you?” The man spoke.

Without responding, you teleported away and ended up in an open space area. Around you were more computers and what looked to be, an area where the Flash trained.

You heard the footsteps behind you and saw the woman named Iris, the Flash and the duo from the coffee shop.

“Hey, that’s my mask.” Cisco shouted. “It looks good.” He then added making you smirk.

You took out the device you had created and felt your powers surge through it.

“I really am sorry but I have to get back to my Earth.” Pressing the device, you disappeared.

“What on Earth? Who the hell was she?” Iris exclaimed.

“Yeah, and where’d she go?” Caitlin added.

“I may be able to find out.” Running up to a computer, Cisco began typing.

“I had a tracker implanted in that mask. Okay, so it looks like our mystery woman is from...Earth 38. Home to Supergirl.”

“Where is she now, Cisco?” Barry asked.

“The tracker was only designed to be able to locate the wearer on this earth. I’m lucky I was even able to track her to Earth 38, Barry.”

“Get me Supergirl, Cisco.”

Bringing up a screen, Cisco was able to connect to the DEO where Supergirl stood.

“Kara, you’ve got a problem.”

***

Arriving back in National City, you felt a wave of relief. You were back.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”

You turned and headed towards the sound of screams. Running into an alley, you stopped when you saw a black-haired woman backing away from a large man.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” You shouted at the assailant who turned and sneered at you.

“Oh yeah? Or what? You’re gonna stop me in that stupid mask?” He laughed.

You smirked and teleported behind him. “Behind you.”

When he turned, you kicked him and punched him so he was knocked out cold.

You looked behind you at the smartly dressed woman. “You’re welcome. Stay safe.” You winked before disappearing.

***

After saving the woman, you removed the mask and found your storage locker that you had before you were taken by Cadmus.

Opening it, you sighed. Everything was still there.

When you were at NCU, you had a lot successful projects, many of which were sold to the University and the money you got paid, you put into an offshore account which only you had access to.

Removing the laptop from the locker, you logged on and checked your account, happy to see that it was untouched. You then began searching for apartments to rent and upon finding one, you went to the landlord and paid 3 months rent in cash so she would give you the furbished apartment. You then locked the door and settled in for the night.

***

It went on like this for a while. You spent almost all day in your apartment, continuing your research. Then spent your nights helping people.

It wasn’t long before people began to whisper about the Aetheryte.

The woman with powers of teleportation.

And you also caught wind that Supergirl and her secret government agency were searching for you.

All it took was one alien.

One alien that allowed you to be caught.

One alien that changed your life forever.

You hadn’t even been out looking for trouble.

You were just walking through the streets, enjoying your Big Belly Burger fries when you heard the crash. Everyone’s attention immediately went to the large purple alien towering over the fiery car explosion.

You quickly donned your mask and ran toward the alien. You began helping people get away and clear the area so no one else was in the danger of getting hurt. You started to battle with the alien, using your powers to prevent yourself getting hurt. You had successfully knocked the alien out when you stilled at the sound of voices behind you.

“Stand down, Aetheryte!”

With hands up, you slowly turned and found yourself facing a trio of women. Supergirl, a short-haired woman who Lillian mentioned was Supergirl’s sister, also known as DEO Agent Danvers.

And finally...Maggie?

Your eyes narrowed and you felt the tears rush to your eyes, threatening to spill. No, how could it be? Last you heard, she was in Gotham. That was what your parents had said. Well, it’s not like anything that came out of their mouths was reliable.

You opened your mouth to say something but couldn’t form any words. You didn’t take notice as the two Danvers sisters walked closer to you, ready to restrain you if need be.

You were just focused on your sister.

You knew she didn’t recognise you.

How could she?

You were practically still a toddler when she left. It had been almost 15 years since you last saw her.

In person that was.

You had a photo in your wallet at all times which you later had framed in your apartment. It depicted you as a baby playing in Maggie’s lap who was around 12.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye when she had left. Your dad just ushered her into a car and drove her to your Aunt’s. You used to cry for her and slept in her bed every night until your parents...made you stop.

Blinking away your tears, you stared at the grown-up woman in front of you. Then, behind her, you saw the alien you fought come to and focus on Maggie.

Your eyes widened and you shouted, “Maggie, look out!”

Without hesitation, you teleported next to her and pushed her away resulting you in getting knocked to the ground by the alien. He was quickly restrained with power dampening cuffs and you groaned, your head laying against the gravelled floor.

Opening your eyes, you winced and saw Maggie kneeling above you. You felt her hands move to your face and gently hold onto your mask.

Removing the mask, she gasped and stumbled back. “Y/N?” She whispered.

“I’m sorry.” You said before teleporting away.

Maggie heard Alex and Kara running up to her.

“Maggie, what happened? Who was that?”

She could hear the concern in her fiancé’s voice but she was a state of shock.

How could you be here?

How were you the meta that she was chasing after?

“I-Her eyes. I didn’t recognise her at first. But her eyes. I know her eyes. How? I didn’t-”

“Maggie, you’re not making any sense.” Kara said gently.

“Aetheryte. Her real name is y/n. She’s my baby sister.”

***

You appeared in your living room and staggered towards your couch. You fell onto the couch and teleported a pack of frozen peas from the freezer into your hand, and with a wince, you placed it against your head. The cold began to soothe the pain when you were disturbed by a knock at the door.

You pushed yourself off the couch and made your way to the door. You opened it and were shocked at the person standing in your doorway.

It was the woman you had saved when you came back from Central City.

“What are you doing he-”

“Oh my god, what happened?”

The raven-haired woman ushered you inside to your couch where she knelt between your legs.

Lifting up your chin with her hand, she began assessing your wounds, “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I-Why-How are you here?”

“I have connections. Oh, I’m Lena Luthor, by the way.” She added as an afterthought.

“I know.” You laughed.

Everyone knew who the good Luthor was. She was the only Luthor any of National City’s residents liked.

“I’m y/n.”

“Nice to meet you but how do you know who I am?”

“First of all, you’re a Luthor. Second, you came up with my name. Nice touch, by the way, it’s very clever. The aether of crystals contain teleportational qualities.” You smirked.

“Thanks. So how did you get your powers?”

“Uh, well, it may come as a bit of shock. But, it was your Mum actually. She kidnapped me a couple of years ago. She wanted me to be a weapon for Cadmus and tried to adapt my research for her own purpose.”

“What?! God, I don’t even know what to say. I am so sorry. She is such an awful human being.”

“On that we can agree.”

You looked over Lena’s shoulder and saw the photo of you and Maggie smiling.

Abruptly standing up, you spoke, “I’m sorry, I have to do something.”

You teleported away, unwittingly leaving Lena hurt.

You appeared at the DEO and guns were immediately trained at you before they were lowered at Maggie’s command.

“Hi, sis.”

Maggie walked up to you and engulfed you in a hug, leaving you momentarily stunned before you hugged her back.

“Oh God, I’ve missed you so much.”

Maggie murmured and when she pulled away, you could see the tears in her eyes.

“Don’t cry because I’m gonna cry and my mascara’s gonna run and then I’m gonna look like a fool.”

Maggie laughed and hit you lightly, “I see you haven’t changed.”

“Why fix something that isn’t broke?” You winked and she laughed again.

You smiled softly, “I’ve missed you, Maggie.”

***

After unexpectedly arriving at the DEO, you went into a room with Maggie, Alex, Kara and Jonn where you could speak in private.

“How are you here? Where have you been?” Maggie asked, placing her hands on yours.

“Everywhere really.” You sighed,

“It was bad when you were kicked out, Mags. It was awkward. I hated Papi. And Mami too. Especially when they began trying to erase you from our lives. I cried for you every day. I slept in your bed. I even hated you. Before I found out the real reason for your absence, I thought you’d left me-”

“I’d never have left you. You know that, y/n.” Maggie said, cupping your cheek.

“I know that now. But, I was a kid. I mean, so were you. I’m just sorry all that happened to you. I was 16 when I found out what actually happened. I was arguing with Papi, and it just came out. After that, god, I never knew I could hate someone that much. That’s when I knew that I could never ever tell them my secret.”

“What secret?” Alex asked.

“That I was exactly like my sister.” You shrugged.

“I just bided my time until I graduated and then I came to NCU and studied. Hard. I was successful. And then life got in the way. Again.”

“What do you mean? How’d you get your powers, y/n?” Kara asked, now dressed in normal clothes.

You let out a breath, dreading their reaction. “I was kidnapped a few years ago and experimented on.”

“By who?” Maggie asked hardly.

Jonn answered for you when you remained silent, “Cadmus”.

Everyone fell silent as they stared at you in shock.

“Did they hurt you?” Maggie whispered, scared to hear the answer.

“Depends on who you mean by ‘they’.” You replied, failing to meet Maggie’s eyes because even 15 years later, she could still see right through you. After a few moments of silence, you gave Maggie’s hand a quick squeeze.

“I think I should go. I just need some time.” Before leaving, you pulled the photo out of your pocket.

“I managed to save one, Magpie.” You said, watching as Maggie softened at the mention of your nickname for her.

***

Once leaving the DEO, you figured you had some amends to make, considering the way you had left Lena so you found yourself outside her office at L-Corp.

Knocking at the door, you entered at the soft “come in”. When you came into view, Lena instantly shot up out of her chair, shocked to see you and you both moved to sit on her white couch.

“I just came here to apologise. I realised that the way I left probably hurt you. I had to go see someone.”

“Maggie, right?” You barely contained the look on your face.

“I saw the picture of you two at your apartment. And she’s a friend of mine. So you’re her sister, huh?”

“Yeah. I only came here to let you know that I don’t blame you for what happened to me. You’re not responsible for your mother’s actions, Lena.”

“Thank you. And thank you for telling me what happened. I hope everything went well with you and Maggie.” She said, resting her warm hand on your knee.

You were about to say something witty when you started to tear up, “God, everything’s such a mess. I never thought I’d escape Cadmus. But I did. And then I thought I’d never see Maggie again. And now she’s back in my life. And my mind is all over the place. I need to be okay for her. She’s been through too much. I can’t add all my baggage onto hers.”

Lena brought her arms around you, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just overwhelming you and that’s okay. You have to accept your pain, y/n. If you hide it, it’ll just get worse, and before long, you’ll end up exploding, which isn’t something you want.”

“God, I’m sorry. I came here to reassure you and look at me,” you said, embarrassingly wiping your tears.

“You’re allowed to feel, y/n. Besides, if you want to make me feel better, let me take you out to dinner tonight. It’ll make me feel very reassured.” She winked, making you laugh through your tears.

“Okay, Lena. Let’s do it.”

Little did you know, that would be the start of something that would change your life for the better.

***

For the next seven months, you got to know Maggie better, catching up on the lost years. You all regularly met up and you participated in the Danvers’ game night. You even began training at the DEO but made sure your scars were covered up with makeup. That was something you weren’t ready to explain yet.

You also grew closer to Lena and it wasn’t long before Lena asked you to be her girlfriend. You guys decided to take it slow because of your collective baggage but that idea didn’t exactly take, considering you had asked Lena to move in with you after 4 months together which she immediately accepted.

Things were going well. That was until Lillian came back on the scene.

You were currently at the DEO, having just saved a family from a house fire, when you heard the incessant beeping on the screen.

“Supergirl, Aetheryte, there’s major radioactive material at...oh god, it’s L-Corp.”

Without hesitation, you immediately teleported to L-Corp and searched for your girlfriend. Upon finding her in her office, you pulled her in a tight hug. “Are you okay?”

“Better now that you’re here. What’s going on?” She asked as you both hurried to the lobby.

“Something about radioactive material. Kara’s on her way.” As if on cue, Kara appeared at the entrance, Maggie, Alex and a large group of DEO agents beside her.

You were all on edge, waiting for the threat to present itself. Then you stilled when you heard the familiar voice.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite experiment.”

Your mind flashed back to the day you had escaped, it was the exact words she had uttered every time she saw you.

“Mother.” Lena spat out.

“Now, Lena. Enough with the attitude. How about you explain why you’re in cohorts with our very enemies? Forget it, no explanation needed. Just make your way over to me if you want to live.”

The former stayed put beside you causing Lillian to shake her head, “I expected better from you.”

Next thing you knew, there was a large explosion causing all of you to be flung back. You quickly brought Lena and Maggie back to their feet as Kara helped Alex.

“Quick on your feet, I see, y/n. Well, you better work fast if you wanna save the rest of the city. Statues don’t stand forever, you know. You too, Supergirl.” Then there was another explosion, but this time, it came from outside.

As everyone ran out to see, you remained in place, thinking about Lillian’s words.

“Y/N?” Maggie asked, concerned.

“I know what she’s going to do. The radioactivity Alex detected. That could easily have been because of a bomb...Wait. Shit. She’s going to blow up Supergirl’s statue.” You teleported to the statue despite your family’s shouts.

“That explosion could seriously injure her, Alex.” Maggie exclaimed.

“Forget the explosion. If that bomb goes off and she’s exposed to that level of radiation, she could die.” Lena said horrified.

You were able to locate the bomb in the statue and looked at the wires. This was just a puzzle. And all puzzles had solutions. Looking at the different colours of the wires, you began to disconnect them. Once doing so, you removed the radioactive material and rendered it useless. Then you gasped when you heard the soft click. It was a dead-man’s switch. Fuck.

Frantically, you looked around before seeing the body of water and rapidly teleported a large volume of it in a massive barrel and quickly submerged the bomb in the water.

You ran as fast as you could when you were thrown forward from the blast of the explosion. You fell harshly on the ground and felt yourself lose consciousness.

***

You groaned and stirred, then opened your eyes and groaned again at the bright lights.

Wait, where were you?

Your eyes shot open as you sat up and stared at the small group in front of you.

“Woah, y/n, you’re okay. You’re at the DEO.” Lena said quickly, trying to calm you down before you had a panic attack like you usually did when you woke up with a start.

“What the hell happened?” You said, wincing at the pain in your head.

“Well, you’re a complete and total idiot. You left us and went to find the bomb yourself. You successfully disarmed it but the secondary explosion caused you to knock your head, making you black out.” Maggie scolded.

“You’ll be okay. You just may have a concussion.” Alex explained, failing to hide her smirk at her fiancé’s outburst.

“Are you okay, y/n?” Kara asked.

“I’m not dead, so I’m fine.”

“I like how your standard is ‘not dead’. That’s good. Let’s keep it that way. ‘Not dead’ makes for a great bare minimum.” Jonn joked, making the rest of you laugh before they all fell silent again.

“What? What else happened?”

“Nothing. But...we saw your scars, y/n.” Kara said gently.

“Did my mother cause those?” Lena asked. She had only ever seen a few but you refused to answer any of her questions because it was a sore subject.

“Some. Not all. Cadmus used a lot of equipment. Cattle prods, knives. Things like that. It was how they tried to break us. Not me though. I guess I just had a higher tolerance for pain.” You shrugged, pushing the painful memories back down.

“What about the others?” Maggie asked.

Letting out a deep breath, you spoke, “Our parents weren’t good people, Mags. When you were gone, all the attention was on me. I had to be perfect. Any slip up would be punished.”

You continued speaking, “Did Papi ever tell you that story about how he used to get beat up by those group of kids when he was younger?” You waited until Maggie nodded in response.

“Let’s just say he took those skills on board. He called it teaching. I call it bullshit.”

The room fell silent once more and you looked up at Lena and Maggie who were on the verge of tears. Almost simultaneously, they both began apologising; Lena said she should have worked harder to stop her mother and Maggie said she should never have left you.

Cupping Lena’s cheek, you brought her in for a gentle kiss and felt her tears against your cheek. “You are not responsible for your mother’s actions. You are your own person. An exceptional person, might I add.”

Using your other hand, you brought Maggie’s head down so you could place a soft kiss on her forehead and then held her hand.

“I was a child and so were you, it’s not your fault. I don’t want you two blaming yourselves. I love you both so much.”

You opened your arms and they both wrapped their arms around your waist on either side of you, hugging you close.

“I’ll be okay. I’m home.”

#supergirl #lena luthor #maggie sawyer #alex danvers #kara danvers #sam arias #reign #james olsen #winn schott #jonn jonzz #supergirl x reader #lena luthor x reader #maggie sawyer x reader #alex danvers x reader #kara danvers x reader #sam arias x reader #reign x reader #supercorp #sanvers #the flash #the flash x reader #caitlin snow x reader #iris west x reader #cisco ramon x reader #barry allen x reader #c: lena luthor #c: maggie sawyer #c: sawyer!reader #c: i’m home #s: mine

[the-scribe-and-her-scribbles]

the countdown - hetalia x soulmate! reader - reincarnation au

Also posted on my Quotev Account

xxxxx

Time stands still for nations. It's such an important part of life, how much time there is, but for someone who never ages, it can mean nothing. The clock on their wrist just reminded them of that. A soulmate timer that will reach nothing, its only purpose is for its wearer to watch as time ticks by without them. Time sped by the country, their soulmate clock counted down until it finally reached zero, and they find who's waiting for them at the end.

They will never forget the day they found you. The pull in their gut that made them run down that busy street. The moment that their eyes locked with yours as the clocks on the inside of your wrists hummed in completion. When they reached you, they couldn't help themselves. They pulled the sleeve on your wrist up and looked at your timer. They started at is until their vision went blurry and they looked up at you.

"Why are you crying," You said to them. Your hand reached up to cup their cheek and they turned their face to the side and kissed the palm of your hand.

"They're happy tears. I've waited a long time for you." They assured you. They pulled you closer to them, wrapped their arms around you tight and pressed their lips to your forehead. At the time, you couldn't understand what they meant by that. Eventually, you would learn just how long your soulmate was forced to wait.

For the first time, the nation knew what it meant to feel time ticking by. You were human. Humans have a certain amount of time on earth. They grow old. They die. You were no different. Your obvious mortality made them hyper-aware of the passage of that and every minute they had available was spent with you. They told about who they were and what they represented. You honestly didn't believe them at first. However, a visit to a world meeting and a talk with their boss, a world leader, was enough to convince you that you weren't being punked.

"Well, you weren't exaggerating when you said you waited a long time," They laughed at you and their fingers entwined with yours. "No, I wasn't."

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

xxxxx

The thing about time is that no one ever knows how much they have. Someone might have years, decades even, before their time on earth might be up. You were unlucky. You only had days.

It was an accident that took you away from him. It was no one’s fault, you were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Please no, (y/n)!”

"It's alright, my love." You tried to make it better, tries to tell them that you'd be okay, that you'd live…

But you felt a coldness settle into your bones and you knew that it was the end, so you did the only thing you could do. You tried to make your last words to him make up for all the time the two of you lost.

“I’m sorry...”

"Don't say that to me! You're going to be just fine!" Their voice was breaking as they held you in their arms. The sound pulled the tears from your eyes.

"I'm sorry that I can't stay with you for a little while longer. I'm sorry that we couldn't do all we wanted to but I want you to know that.." You coughed and sputtered before pushing on. "You need to know that you've made me so happy. So, so, so happy. I wouldn't take a second of our time together back. Not for anything."

"Don't you dare," they say to you. Their tears drip down their face as they gripped you tighter, as if that would be enough to keep your soul from leaving your body. "Don't you dare leave me!" They were on the verge of hysterics.

“You’ll be okay. You need to stay here. You have things to do, your people need you.”  

“But I need you! I can’t do this without you!”

"Don't worry, darling..." Your speech was slowing now. Your eyelids started to close and your vision was becoming more and more blurry. "We will meet again. I will see you in a better world. Just you wait."

Your eyes finally close. They feel a hum on the inside of their wrist. It's their soulmate timer. You are gone and they can’t hold back their wailing any longer.

xxxxx

At your funeral, they stare down at their wrist. The ache in their chest pounds as they watch the seconds tick down.

499,320:38:25 …

499,320:38:24 …

499,320:38:23 …

xxxxx

Much changed. Once again, they felt stagnant as the clock on their wrist ticked down. They felt stuck. Buried in thick mud or quicksand. Every minute of every day, they felt the aching impatience. Waiting for you this long was painful.  Without you, the world seemed to fly by them.

They will never forget the day they found you again. The familiar pull in their gut that makes them race through the building. Their heart picks up. Their breathing quickens and they search through the crowd for you. Come on! Come on! Where are you!

“HEY!” someone yells from behind them. Their chest tightens. They whip around to see who it was and their timer hits zero again. It's you. You look the same as when he last saw you. You're just as stunning. Your eyes have the same captivating colour.

“God!” They say to you, a smile spread across their face as they take all of you in.

“Do you have any idea how long I waited for you?

A/N- This oneshot is supposed to be generic so that any country could be imagined as your soulmate. As of right now, this is a stand-alone fic but if I get inspiration and people enjoy it, I might add specific chapters for all the countries.

If you wanted to know how long your country had to wait to meet you again, they had to wait 57 years and 38 minutes! That commitment!

Please leave a like, comment and don’t be afraid to reblog this 

#hetalia x soulmate!reader #hetalia soulmate au #hetalia x reader #hetalia x human!reader #aph soulmate au #aph x reader #aph fanfiction #hetalia renaissance #hetalia rebirth #reincarnation #reincarnation au #hetalia x reincarnated!reader #the countdown

[atozfic]

I posted 1,078 times in 2021

875 posts created (81%)

203 posts reblogged (19%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.2 posts.

I added 1,370 tags in 2021

#🎐: message board - 594 posts

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Longest Tag: 139 characters

#if i don’t wanna read it based on the description/warnings then i shouldn't have to scroll past the whole thing just to find mf peace again

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

overdrive.

⎘ fic type: oneshot.

⎘ pairing: gn!reader x kim hongjoong.

⎘ genre: strangers to lovers, fake dating au (kinda?), artist!hongjoong, aged up!ateez (irl age + 5 years), angst, fluff, smut.

⎘ warnings: heavy themes of mental health, depictions of depression, trauma and anxiety, brief mentions of cheating, death, bullying, drugs and alcohol, way too many attempts at humour. nsfw: dom!hongjoong, sub!reader, nipple play, hair pulling, dirty talk, finger-sucking, spit used as lube, use of the word “doll”, unprotected sex, penetrative sex. 

⎘ description: a lonely artist finds himself in need of some human contact, so he joins a dating app but with a very specific request: he doesn’t want a relationship, he wants the experience of one. when someone contacts him, interested and willing to aid him in his search for artistic inspiration, the rules quickly become simple: no real names, no personal details, no feelings. so what the hell is kim hongjoong supposed to do when he catches himself daydreaming about their future together?- or, can you fall in love with a stranger?

⎘ word count: 17.8k (it’s worth it, i swear)

⎘ author's note: this fic is my baby. i love it with my whole heart. it’s been in the making long before i even opened this account. all it took was listening to overdrive by conan gray once and this entire monster of a fic started to unravel in my brain. any feedback is appreciated, same goes for any like or simple reblog! if there’s any spelling mistakes, look the other way: this is 17.8k, i’ve re-read it ten times, i’m sorry!

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this is all fiction. none of the events in this story truly happened, nor do they reflect an accurate portrayal of how the members would behave or feel in these situations.

© atozfic, 2021.

“I don't know what you're on about, dude. It looks pretty good to me.”

Praise and positive reviews were not what Hongjoong wanted to hear. In fact, all he wanted to do in that moment was kick his own foot through the tainted canvas, until no sign remained of the painting he'd finished in the early hours of the morning; to drench the palette in whatever alcohol he could find laying around the messy studio and light it up into flames.

“I've seen your child make a finger painting better than this. Don't lie to me, Park Seonghwa!” Hongjoong groaned, slouching back in a huff as he melted further into the old leathered sofa. His head tilted back and his eyes snapped shut whilst he inhaled deeply, the offensive smell of fresh paint entering his system.

“I can't help it!” The other male exclaimed and Hongjoong could perfectly picture how he threw his hands up into the air in self-defence, eyes wide and a smile threatening to make itself known. “Being your friend comes way before being your agent, I can't help but be biased!”

Hongjoong’s eyes snapped open. “I literally pay you to not be biased!”

“Yeah, well, I think we've already established that you make mistakes.” With a sheepish smile, the older male gestured towards the canvas and Hongjoong couldn't even find it within himself to try and disagree.

He really had gambled on the fact that this one piece would turn out the way he wanted it to. The truth was, he'd known deep down the work wouldn't turn out well. Through the months of working at it, he kept his optimism up and repeated how if he just added a few more shades, a few more details, the painting would magically morph itself into exactly what he wanted from it. And now he was less than five months away from his submission deadline and missing one painting from his collection. The one which he'd promised himself would be the real kicker, the centre piece, the main character of the exhibition.

“This is hopeless, Hwa!” Sulking came easier than inspiration to the petite artist as of late, a fact which depressed him a little more than he'd ever let another person know. “I don't get what I'm missing here. The concept is so basic yet, every time I go to press brush to canvas, it's like I'm faced with a foreign language and telling myself that if I just stare a little longer, the letters will figure themselves out and I'll miraculously become fluent.”

“Because you're not feeling it, Hongjoong.”

“Feeling what?”

“The concept.” When the taller male was met with nothing but a blank expression, he gestured around with his hand and continued. “Moving on. I mean, you've been single for, what now? Sixteen months? And in that whole time, you've not even entertained the idea of meeting someone new, or even just going on a date.”

“Forgive me for not rushing to throw myself back into a relationship after my last one.” Hongjoong always hated when he failed to control his darker feelings, hating to expose how weak he actually was to things like anger, sadness, depression.

It's why he turned to art in the first place, during his teenage years, which were plagued with awful and painful experiences. Rather than facing them head-on, Hongjoong melted his emotions into colours, presented them on a plain background and worked his way into a scholarship. And, so, that's how it had always been for him. He never had to talk his feelings out, he just painted and others took what they could understand from it.

The leather squeaked under the new pressure of Seonghwa sitting next to him. Hongjoong's eyes shot to the male's lap, where he could see his friend nervously fidgeting with the ring on his left hand. Whatever Seonghwa was about to say next, he had a feeling he wasn't going to like it.

“Look, I get it. I know how hurt you were after things ended between you and...” She'd become the Voldemort of his life, everyone else around him refusing to utter her name out loud and all treating him like the fragile child who'd survived her attack and came out alive with nothing but a scar. Only, his scar was less lightning shaped and more like a cracked heart. “But don't you think it's time you try move on? You're letting... her effect you more than she deserves to. She wasn't the one for you but someone, somewhere, is. You're not going to meet them in here, you need to be outside, experiencing life, waiting for the moment you both cross paths.”

Hongjoong had always envied Seonghwa and his hopeful attitude towards love.

Of course he didn't understand, even if he claimed to. Seonghwa had never even experienced a break up, never mind heartbreak. He met the love of his life at the age of fifteen and married her at the age of twenty five, welcoming their first child together not even a year after.

“Chae wanted me to ask you if maybe you'd consider meeting a girl from her faculty.” Ah, there it was. The whole reason Seonghwa had even brought up his love life in the first place. “She's really sweet! And she's new to the city. And Chae figured, since you know all the best places here out of all of us, you'd be a great tour guide.”

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621 notes • Posted 2021-05-01 21:39:01 GMT

#4

a touch of frost.

⎘ fic type: oneshot, part of the disney reimagined series.

⎘ pairing: fem!reader x park seonghwa.

⎘ genre: lovers to strangers to lovers, frozen au, royalty au, soulmate au,   jackfrost!seonghwa, prince!seonghwa, immortal!seonghwa, witch!reader, angst, fluff, smut.

⎘ warnings: misogyny, a messy magic system but just go with it, blood, death, mentions of war and famine, stupid references to frozen. nsfw: dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, possessive sex, jealous sex, description of male genitalia, bulging, marking, praising, nipple play, clit play, a singular example of name calling, breeding kink (it’s seonghwa, wtf were y’all expecting?), thigh fucking(?), seonghwa has a thing for thighs, temperature play but with a fun and new twist, implied daddy kink, basically a bunch of shit that’s getting me sent to hell.

⎘ description: when the lonely prince had his heart broken, a winter so cold overcame the kingdom of arendelle. decades later, the cold remains, the townsfolk wondering when they’ll see the sun again and the lonely prince longing to feel a touch of warmth.

⎘ word count: 23.8k

⎘ author’s note: she’s finally here and it only took a couple of mental breakdowns. there is a moment in the fic where the reader briefly mentions the way male genitalia looks and she speaks not so nicely (i swear it’s nothing horrible) but this is just where i want to quickly remind everyone there is no correct or best way for any of our genitalia (or bodies in general) to look. we all come in different shapes and sizes and that’s more than okay! also, if anyone can guess who the wolf is, i will give you a mf kiss or something, idk.

⎘ taglist: @yunhobabygurl​​​​, @eonghwa​​​​, @iusrene​​​​, @nari-nim​​​​, @couchpotatoaniki​​

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this is all fiction. none of the events in this story truly happened, nor do they reflect an accurate portrayal of how the members would behave or feel in these situations.

© atozfic, 2021.

no one knows why the cold arrived.

it simply did, on a day destined to be warm and lively, and the very peak of the summer season. anxious children had fallen asleep dreaming of frolicking in the water down by the beach, just like adults had dreamt of basking in the summer heat. when the kingdom awoke, however, a collective cry of hysteria would ring out as everyone opened their curtains to find the ground covered in a layer of snow.

they were all so quick to call it a miracle, a once in a lifetime opportunity, a gift from mother nature. they traded in their swimming costumes and sandals for fur coats and woolly gloves, running out the door to play in the snow instead of the sand, building snowmen instead of sandcastles.

by the end of the bizarre day, each head fell to rest on it’s pillow and drifted off into a land of dreams, thinking of how the next day they would feel the refreshing feeling of waves crashing into them.

they would awaken to snow once more.

the kingdom’s people were never one to dwell on things, however, and decided to continue making the best out of this unexpected splash of white that had painted their land seemingly overnight. children of all ages flooded the neighbourhoods, joining together in a harmless fight made up of snow balls and obnoxious laughter. adults crowded together to gossip about the weather and the recent scandals in the land: who’d been caught cheating on who, what couple was having trouble conceiving, the upcoming coronation.

when king park had announced he was officially stepping back from leading the land of arendelle, the people weeped. decades were spent under the gentle ruling of his fist, decades in which the small kingdom had seen itself flourish into something truly magnificent, a nation envied by all those in it’s surroundings. everyone understood, though, that it was his time to say goodbye. the passing of the years aging him and the passing of his wife breaking him beyond repair.

while the people still mourned the end of his reign, they could all feel a tug of excited nausea at the thought of their next ruler, the eldest of king park’s two sons.

on the third day of snow, folks slowly began to grow tired of it. they’d already made it through the harsh winter, which had eased it’s way into a gentle spring and left them craving the skin-licking heat of the summer.

by the time a week had passed and the chill in the air was beginning to strengthen it’s roots, clamping down and draining the kingdom of it’s nutrients, the people began to demand answers from their royals.

they would receive nothing but silence, the castle doors shutting completely and all forms of communicating with them being cut off.

a whole year passed, in which the kingdom had all prayed for the warmth to return, at least come the next summer. it did not and this alone seemed to confirm people’s greatest fear: the cold was here to stay. it was as if summer had died- in fact, that’s exactly what some people claimed.

answers as to why this had happened would vary from person to person.

the scientists claimed it was inevitable. nothing more than a necessary and unavoidable phase of the earth’s life, who had a pattern of dealing with ice ages in the past. the one thing these scientists could never explain was why the cold only affected arendelle.

the religious claimed it was a punishment sent by the gods. angered one too many times, ignored even more, they’d extracted vengeance on killing the crops and forcing the people into a period of starvation. the religious could never explain what arendelle had done wrong, however, given it’s fairly short history and lack of war crimes.

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645 notes • Posted 2021-06-01 18:56:22 GMT

#3

blushing red.

⎘ fic type: oneshot, first one of the rainbow riots series.

⎘ pairing: fem!reader x choi san, fem!reader x brother!wooyoung.

⎘ genre: frenemies to lovers, college au, barista!san, wonderland!san for no reason other than i miss him, angst, fluff, smut.

⎘ warnings: possessiveness, pining, shit attempts at humour, too much cursing, san is a whipped idiot, reader is kinda a bitch, jongho is a fuckboy, wooyoung’s just trying to be a chef, okay?, mentions of alcohol induced vomiting, food, toxic traits and commitment issues. nsfw: dom!san, switch!reader, clit play, nipple play, thigh riding, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), one (1) spank, riding, protected sex, penetrative sex, kinda fluffy sex??, very brief aftercare, idk if there’s anything else.

⎘ description: how did choi san go from wanting to protect you like a big brother to wanting to ruin you with his own two hands? (i suck at descriptions, fuck off.)

⎘ word count: 11k

⎘ author's note: if this flops, honestly don’t think i’d care because i had so much fun writing this. it was mostly self-indulgent. it’s not the best but i’m happy to finally be posting it, since it’s the first part of a larger series of oneshots involving the ateez members. feedback would be appreciated but also, i really don’t care if you don’t like this. i love it and my opinion is golden, so./j

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this is all fiction. none of the events in this story truly happened, nor do they reflect an accurate portrayal of how the members would behave or feel in these situations.

© atozfic, 2021.

He was seeing red.

And it wasn’t because of the countless red dresses that were scattered throughout the room, nor the messily done ties strangled around sweaty necks; the red cups filled with bitter liquids, nor the crimson flushed cheeks of guests. 

It was a red themed evening, to which San could only think of how horribly cliché it was, and how perfectly suiting to the girl the party was being thrown in honour of, the human embodiment of what it meant to be red; to be passionate and courageous; angry and powerful. The very same girl he was watching swallow the tongue of some rosy cheeked, red haired punk.

As the drink in his hand parted his lips, a wave of intoxication slipping down his throat, San couldn’t help but think about how the boy was clearly all bark and no bite. He knew him- well, of him, at the very least,- this so called Choi Jongho. A notorious flirt; a ladies man; the kind of boy who you punch for even looking your little sister’s way. San was too prideful, he’d been told this by exes and friends alike, and it’s that very same pride that had him laughing aloud at the way the Jongho kid couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands; at how his eyes were wide open; at how he was using far too much tongue for it to be comfortable.

Maybe, San wondered, it was the perfect excuse to storm over there, tear Jongho and his wagging tongue away. After all, he couldn’t just stand back and watch you be choked to death by the kid’s kissing inabilities!

He opts for tearing the lid off of another beer instead of the head off of Jongho.

There’s a chance it was already past one too many drinks for him that night but San had never been good at controlling himself, of denying himself something he wanted. So he welcomed in the drink and finally looked elsewhere in the room.

The decorations told him this wasn’t the surprise party it was meant to be, because he knew your older brother well enough. Hell, there’s a high chance he knew more about the eldest Jung sibling than he did about himself. Wooyoung barely knew how to tie his own shoe laces, never mind the perfect ribbon, and he was more into getting baked than learning how to bake a cake. If San tried hard enough, he could perfectly picture you in the kitchen, an apron loosely tied around one of your usually effortlessly pretty outfits- one of those tightfitting sweaters you loved so much tucked into a loose fitting skirt, or a pretty little summer dress, or a stupidly oversized graphic tee you bought from the men’s department covering a pair of laughably short shorts; all enough to drive the blood straight out of San’s brain and down to his other head-, your hair a complete mess with the slightest bit of flour dusting your flushed cheeks as you squint to read at your phone, too stubborn to wear your glasses and too lazy to put in your contact lenses.

Yes, you’d definitely played a hand in setting up your own surprise birthday party and it suddenly had San wishing he was enjoying himself more. But, you see, enjoyment is a hard thing to feel when the girl you only recently accepted your complicated feelings for was swapping pints of saliva with some other guy across the room. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to speak to you once the whole night, not even a moment to wish you a happy birthday.

It wasn’t like San should have cared that much. You hadn’t even invited him, his reason for being there the very same one he had any time he came round your house: Wooyoung. The boy had more-or-less told him he was attending, whether he liked it or not, because “I’ll be damned if I’m stuck chaperoning this party by myself.”

San often thought Wooyoung forgot there was only really one year between you two. But, you were his little sister and it only seemed right he thought of you as the smiling idiot who would run over to him in tears every time you tripped over your untied laces and scraped your knee. The dimpled boy couldn’t stop himself from wondering when he’d stopped thinking of you that way.

Where he once had thoughts of protecting you from the corruption men and their intentions brought along, he now fantasized about being the man to corrupt you. If only Wooyoung were really capable of reading his mind the way he claimed he could, San’s medical bills would be sky-high.

“I don’t remember seeing you on the guest list, Choi.” The words were a little slurred, like their owner wasn’t quite aware of the fact they were speaking, but it was enough to make San jump where he stood, head turning away from staring off at some deflating balloon.

There you were, a sight for sore eyes. The lipstick you’d once been wearing had been diminished to no more than a tint of playful redness on your lips, the rest of it likely now painted across Jongho's tongue. Your hair was tied back in a neat bun and, though it was displaying your pretty little neck and your doe eyes, San thinks of how much prettier it was when it was an unkept mess, like all those mornings after sleeping over in Wooyoung’s room and coming down for breakfast just to find you and your bedhead angrily trying to scoop up the last few bits of your cereal.

“Guest list?” he scoffed, his frustrations coming out in the form of disinterest. “Do you think you’re the fucking queen of England or something?”

“Trust me, you’d be long ago thrown in a bottomless pit by now if I were the queen of anything.” Your reply was weak and that’s enough to satisfy him, because he knew you were irked. San knew you believed he was one of the most annoying things to grace earth and he revelled in it. Any boy with a set of lips and some smooth words could make you swoon, but no other could get you hot and bothered like Choi San. “Where’s your boyfriend? Ditched you to go socialize with someone besides you for once?”

“Wooyoung’s cleaning up your friend’s vomit from off of your parents’ carpet.” The horrified look that crossed your face was enough to coax a chuckle out of San. 

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730 notes • Posted 2021-04-11 22:05:42 GMT

#2

masterlist.

⎙ › 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗉𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗏𝗂𝖽𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌 ᵎ

guide

( a ) ⭟ angst.

( f ) ⭟ fluff.

( s ) ⭟ suggestive.

( x ) ⭟ smut.

( 🌈 ) ⭟ rainbow riots series.

( 🎬 ) ⭟ disney reimagined series.

︴ ። 𓂅 ┈ all fics + angst fics + fluff fics + smut fics

ateez + all ateez fics.

⌕ headcanons

ateez & pussy eating ( x )

ateez & money heist ( a ), ( f ), ( s )

ateez & blowjobs ( x )

ateez & pirate roles. ( a ), ( f )

⌕ reactions

meeting pirate!ateez. ( a ), ( f )

treating pirate!ateez's injuries. ( a ), ( f )

joining pirate!ateez’s crew.  ( a ), ( f )

first time with pirate!ateez. ( x )

meeting badboy!ateez. ( a ), ( f ), ( s )

⌕ series

rainbow riots. ( a ), ( f ), ( x ), ( 🌈 )

disney reimagined. ( a ), ( f ), ( x ), ( 🎬 )

See the full post

737 notes • Posted 2021-03-26 18:33:50 GMT

#1

ateez & pussy eating.

⎘ fic format: headcanon.

⎘ pairing: fem!reader x ateez.

⎘ genre: established relationship, smut.

⎘ word count: 3.6k

⎘ warnings: oral (f & m receiving), fingering, face riding, edging, praising, light dolification, voyeurism, public sex, possessiveness, jealousy, manhandling, nipple play, degradation, clit play, size kink, edging, dumbification, cum eating, dacryphilia, overstimulation, light kitten play, unprotected sex, begging, masturbation, daddy kink, restraints, orgasm denial, name calling, anal play, choking, biting, marking, hair pulling, wall sex.

⎘ author's note: so my brain woke up this morning and chose violence because, despite hwa’s cute vlive yesterday, all i’ve been able to think about is how ateez would eat pussy. so, now you have to suffer with me too. i’m an atheist but,,, god, i’m so sorry for this.

this is all fiction. i am in no way claiming to know the members personally, nor do i know how they would behave truly in these situations.

masterlist.

navigation.

© atozfic, 2021.

park seonghwa.

let’s just dive in to this, head first.

which is ironically exactly how seonghwa prefers things to be.

we all know this mf has an oral fixation, no criticism accepted. 

i mean, have y’all seen that video of him eating ice cream? 

yeah, enough said.

like, i’m not kidding when i say he will basically make out with your pussy.

definitely moans at the taste of you.

seonghwa honestly just wants to eat you out no matter what mood.

he’s bored?

oh, time to go interrupt your studying to burry himself between your thighs.

he’s angry?

be prepared to be edged for hours by nothing but his tongue

maybe a finger or two too.

he’s soft?

yeah, good luck getting out of bed without enduring his soft kisses and love filled praises as he easily coaxes an orgasm out of you.

you get the point.

honestly, when your relationship first gets to the sexual stage, you’re probably overwhelmed as fuck by how often this man just wants to stuff you full of his tongue. 

he’s so shameless about it too, just straight up asking you while you’re mid-bite of your slice of pizza

See the full post

1721 notes • Posted 2021-03-27 21:50:29 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #my 2022 resolution is to reblog more #especially other writers

[hecohansen31]

Angel

Jim Mason+Influencer! Reader:

(A/N): Hello lovelies!

I am very happy to have you back in this last episode of this miniseries, which I really hope you’ll like, alongside, again, if you have more ideas and want to send asks about this verses... I AM READY FOR IT, BRING IT ON BITCHES!

Also... I have said that this fic might be a bit self-indulgent and it is because, although I am not an influencer of any kind, I am very active on my social medias (mostly instagram, if you want to follow me or anything, and we are mutuals, just DM me) and this July I ended up hitting a very bad kind of exhaustion from that platform.

I honestly ended up feeling extremely shitty, alongside discovering many fake people who were around me, and for this reason I am happy that I managed to get here on tumblr (although there are some fake people on here, but like I don’t have to interact with them).

So, although the cyberbullying part of the story is only fictional, the exhaustion that took over reader, ended up being a reality for me, a bit ago, and although I am all better (better than before), I just wanted to remind you to take healthy pauses from social medias.

Also please don’t shame people who work on them, alongside use them as an outlet for anxiet and stress (like me).

I really hope you won’t judge me too badly, after this...

Also I’ll just remind you to show some love, if you like this, with hearts, reblogs (possibly saying something) and if you have anything to say about these, my DMs and asks are always open!

Much love!

SUMMARY: Jim Mason takes care of his social media exhausted girlfriend.

WORDS: 1,7 K

WARNINGS: Mention of Cyberbulling And Exhaustion from Social Medias (I WASN’T CYBERBULLIED, although I had my fair share of assholish comment, NOT HERE, but the cyberbullying was only fictional, whereas exhaustion is something I experienced back in July)

Jim knew of his girlfriend’s social media fame.

Although he wasn’t informed about the entire thing and how it worked, being more focused on staying in the moment and living it, he was proud of what she achieved with her photos and captions, even going as far as helping her shot a few.

He still remembered the way she smiled gently meanwhile he tried to take photos of her, meanwhile she pointed out each cheap tip she knew, starting with “shoot from a lower angle than my height, so that I might appear taller” and “make sure to take the right light”.

She might have seemed shallow to others, but whenever Jim cried his heart out in her arm, she only had the sweetest words for him, calming him down enough that they fell asleep calmly, next to each other in her simple pull-out.

She cuddled closer to him, whenever she understood he needed it and made sure to always be there, next to him, her entire attention focused on him.

He had never checked her profile, mostly because she had pleaded with him not to give it a look.

“It’s silly” she had mumbled, meanwhile she had tried to get his phone off his hands “… and embarrassing!”.

And Jim had respected her wishes, offering just his help with photos or ideas, but whenever they were together, the entire social media thought was off the rack between them, preferring a direct conversation, although sometimes she got in overload and at that time social medias were her outlet.

But sometimes they were also her damnation.

Jim had noticed the difference in his girlfriend’s mood, since the start of the week: quieter and definitely less happy, a mumble being her way to speak, if she spoke up, clearly not energetic in the slightest and definitely not focused.

His knowledge of drugs and their effects had made him think that she might have been under those, but slowly the unfocused glaze had moved from rage to sadness: one day she was moping on the beach and another she almost got into a rage-filled fight with whatever was not working.

Jimmy had tried his best to understand her, but she didn’t want to talk about it with him so he tried to stay close to her, but the bad week moved to two bad weeks and there Jim had thought about searching through her social, mostly due to the fact that she focused on them more, even neglecting herself and him a bit.

“I just need to write the last paragraph” she had mumbled, meanwhile she had refused to stop writing to sleep a bit or “I will eat after I edited this photo, I mean… I don’t need food”.

It all got Jim worried, more and more.

And then he had decided that he had only one chance to discover what was going on.

He had opened Instagram, her major social network, and then had moved to her profile, the public one (she had a private one, full of photos that made Jim’s heart jump: candid of them together, not professionally taken but… Jim loved them all the same) and had gone through it.

He had first seen that she hadn’t any stories going on, which was unusual since she did her best to try to at least show a bit of her everyday life each day.

“So, my followers don’t feel left out” she had mumbled and although Jim had thought it was a strange voyeuristic idea, he had just hugged her and called her “angel”.

“Angel” was also part of her username on Instagram, due mostly to her followers, which had started calling her “angel”, because of the intrinsic sweetness of her posts and the personality she showed on the social network.

The stories thing had been already strange, but also her follower count had diminished, nothing too bad, but he had heard his angel protest about that.

“I just can’t believe that these people unfollow me just because I don’t follow them back and you know what is worst… I have talked to them… I felt like… we were friends”.

But he had soon discovered the true reason behind his girlfriend’s sadness: the comments honestly made him angry.

The most recent ones were ruthless: “you are fat”, “kill yourself” “you are annoying”…

And they went on, although some were sweeter, clearly (Y/N)’s true fans.

He had honestly hoped it was a troll, nothing but a joke.

But those comments had been serious, since he hadn’t been able to recognize the familiar path of a troll, instead they were real people, under fake accounts or their real accounts sharing that hate.

He honestly hadn’t been able to stop himself from feeling furious now that he understood what was going on, and meanwhile he had signaled each negative comment, he had seen the stories light up, the first one of the day.

A photo with a writing on it: “guys I just wanted to let you know that I will be taking a pause, due to all the hate I have been getting, I don’t know when I will get back”.

Although the text has been intelligently written and concealed her emotion, he had clearly known she was crying meanwhile writing it.

He knew how much work she put into the social media, although it never was her job, she had started, long before meeting him, using it as a relief method from her own problem, so to be let down this way….

… it obviously hurt her.

After he had signaled enough accounts he had just tried to let the rage burn down, meanwhile he had created a plan to make his angel feel better: his first idea had been to go out, knowing that an expensive dinner and a few dances might get her distracted, but this would just push just the argument further.

So, he had just organized a home-made dinner (which meant him ordering take-out), bribing her to attend it with the promise of a lot of cuddles and a make-out session and most importantly to watch for the umpteenth times her favorite movie.

She clearly felt a bit better, when she finally walked in his house, being swept off her feet by an ecstatic Jim, who gently kissed her forehead, before he had put her down, leading her to the little kitchen of his apartment, the one his father had gotten him once he had gone out of rehab.

It was nice, although pretty small, but Jim loved it all more, and since he had met his angel it had all been better.

They had made so many memories, alongside she had helped perfecting it all.

“Ma’am, please sit down” he helped her to the dinner table, taking her jean jacket and her bag, coming back with an open bottle of wine, which he poured in their inadequate glasses, and with the first course, (Y/N)’s favorite course.

“Oh, you went all out” her smile didn’t reach her eyes, but she was indeed grateful, holding out her hand to grab his, which was kept tangled with his for the entire dinner

She talked about her day, chirping happily meanwhile she avoided carefully the social media argument and Jim didn’t pressure her, just watching her eat, in peaceful silence and only when they moved to wash the dishes he grumbled lowly:

-… sweetie, I checked your page on Instagram- he felt her grow stiff next to him -… I know that it embarrasses you, but I thought that you had been so gloomy these past weeks and I thought that your social media might have been bothering you, extremely… so I had to do something…-.

-Oh Jimmy! – she was avoiding his eyes, clearly ashamed -… I am so sorry you had to see all that… it…-.

-You are getting hate thrown your way for nothing, (Y/N)- he wanted to make sure she knew it wasn’t her fault In the slightest -…I can’t honestly fathom people doing this to you, whereas you have been nothing but an angel with them-.

-I am not sure… I mean…- a sad smile was on her face -… I am pretty sure that many people will call me a bitch with no problem…-.

-… well I am gonna fight them all, babe- he brought her closer and smacked a sound kiss on her head -… you don’t deserve this hate, believe me, I spent two hours trying to ban each asshole-.

-That is incredibly sweet, Jimmy Boy- she giggled, but a few tears shone on his eyes -… but I don’t think that it will stop the hate from spreading; that’s why I decided to take a holiday-.

Jim saw that an honest smile shone on her face and moved the rag onto its hook to hug her better, bearhugging her and gently caressing her back, gently, and shushing her cries.

-Angel of mine, I am so so sorry I was not able to know more about this- he mumbled, feeling a low protest -… I honestly thought it wasn’t that bad-.

-I didn’t even talk about it with you- she justified softly, getting a bit of distance between them to be able to watch him in the eyes -… I wanted to handle on my own, because, at first, I thought it wasn’t anything worrying, and then… I just felt like social media were a thing I needed to solve alone, my thing-.

He knew this came from all the prejudices linked with her passion for social medias: he had heard about some of her friends annoying her saying not only she was asocial, but also self-absorbed.

She hadn’t been very open about her life on them with him, also because of this, thinking that he would be making fun of her, exactly like her “friends”.

-I know that you take pride into your profile, but… you can lean onto me, I am here for you- he promised her looking at her in the eyes with extreme seriousness, before hugging her close, keeping his lips on her forehead, a comforting gesture -… I am still extremely proud of you for recognizing that you were having troubles and deciding to distance yourself from that… you are one smart angel-.

She giggled at the nickname, before freeing herself from his hug, although she still felt extremely bad, a smile shone on her face.

-Now you better get in your comfortable pajama, because this smart angel wants to watch for the umpteenth time (Y/F/F), with a lot of cuddles- and she turned around, getting a slight slap on her ass from Jim.

-… don’t forget the make-out session! -.

---

Hello lovelies!

Thank you for coming this far, in my self-indulgent mumbling and thank you for sticking me all through this series, I really hope you enjoyed it, and in case some of you want to read the previous chapters, you might find them here! (Duncan) (Michael)

@so-langdon @1-800-bitchcraft @emmyrosee @blakewaterxx @rocketgirl2410 @ladynuwanda @w0nder-marie @bitchchatter @eternalnostalgia @chirpdesu @dreamxcollide @head-full-of-thougts @lonely-cloud @im-the-music-whore @orendamill @ayeayecaptaingally @loveofmonstersandroses @kleineshaschen @dramapenguinthe3rd @drama-penguins @vampirefairyestelle @ @hplotrfan @a-exmrie @meandmystrangehabits @lovelylangdonx  @britishmoonchild @michael-langdon-appreciation (I keep tagging you and please let me know if it is fine, but I know that you liked the previous chapter!) @mega-combusken @frenchbread4ever  @confettucini @what-the-hecku @langdonsplaytoy @saviorinsilk @cherrysoda-com@loveableasshole @sona-blues  @xoxocrystal17 @bish-ima-clown  @idespac  @annielovebug22 @literary-monster @g4ost  @rubyeru @breakingsupernaturlbad101 @dyns33 @hadeslittlewhore @ lsutgurxb @kelncurls @lathraios @rosegoldrichie @ohlookheather @ softyash @honeylavender-bombshell @ swinginfestivalhoagieflap @lotsofhunny @ ashleyallen-queen-carter @ uniquepandaeagleparty @ elviradamien23

#jim mason #jim mason x reader #jim mason hc #the tribes of palos verdes #tribes of palos verdes #tribes #tribes of PV #palos verdes #cody fern #jim mason reader #jim mason moodboard #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #ahs #ahs apocalypse #jim mason fanfic #jim mason fan fic #jim mason one shot

[darkestangel1326]

Prologue - This was real life. Right?

Hey lovelies. So I know it is likely no one is going to read this but me but I just had to write this anyway. For me. Posting for the same reason! Fic under the “Keep reading” cut, but here’s how I got here: 

This all started when I wondered what would happen if MC was a scientist. Or a science grad student. But then I thought, what would be enough to compel a scientist or science grad student to stop their sciencing realistically for any amount of time? Because as my previous PI says, every scientist becomes a mad scientist at least in one point in their careers for their research - this is especially true for grad students. 

Then, I just never understood the whole returning a phone excuse Unknown gave MC to lure her into Rika’s apartment. Like MC, with her own phone, is gonna return a phone she doesn’t even have, just because Unknown was persistent? He even says he’s a student in the States who will eventually return home so what was with the urgency to go to find the owner? If he really wanted to return the phone, he could’ve mailed it since he has the address right? We know he does because he sends MC there. It just always bothered me.

Finally, I wanted to slightly self-insert to make the MC (Emme C.) a bit more human so that it even if you couldn’t change her choices, it would still be entertaining. I heavily relied on second person, to help give it the mystic messenger vibe though I’m not sure it works.

This prologue is some character building for Emme C. (Actual name: Emme Cee), brief OC appearances and, for my sanity, this is all taking place in the US. TBH I’m not even sure how deep I want to go with this story. I just know I needed to write it. 

 So without further ado!

“My biggest fear and why? Hmmm,” you mulled it over and took another sip of your beer, after your lab mates glared at you for an answer. 

Or former labmates - you were leaving for grad school in a few weeks so this was kind of your farewell social. Even with your general distaste of beer, even you had to admit this one was really good. 

You closed your eyes and sheepishly rubbed your neck. “This is gonna sound weird but a time loop,” you answered hesitantly.  “It just makes me uneasy to be stuck in never-ending cycle, replaying the same scenario over and over again with no end in sight.”

“True but we are in academic research!” Marie answered, a teasing lilt to her voice that transformed into a chuckle. 

“Yeah you might have to deal with it during your Masters program, especially the thesis stage.” Whitney continued, joining in with a laugh.

“Don’t remind me,” you giggled as you took another sip - a longer sip - of your beer. “But that’s not exactly what I mean either” you persisted, a bit more seriously. 

I’m afraid of replaying the same day, the same events, the same interactions over and over again, not knowing why or how to stop it,” you finished more seriously. You took another sip of the fizzy drink and felt your equilibrium teeter a bit. 

“You mean like that movie Groundhog Day?” Aurora quietly inserted.

“I haven’t seen that movie but if it’s like what I said, then yes, that’s it,” you answered, your fizzy drink now gone. 

“Sorry wait. Why are you afraid of time loops? I think I missed that part. Wouldn’t replaying the same day and seeing how your choices change events be a good thing?” Sally asked. Technically, she was completely right - repeatability was one of the sacred ideals of science after all. Plus, If you really thought about it, you hadn’t actually said why you’re afraid of time loops, just that you are.

“I’m afraid of never moving forward - of never progressing, no matter how hard I try or work. A time loop means, yes, I’ll know what my choices would entail, but not how to escape or what the triggering event for my release could be. I could replay the time period of the same few weeks but for years without knowing how to escape and move on. And, I guess, since it took me so long to even start my Master’s and I felt like I might never be able to, this fear was just born,” you admitted, pouring more beer for yourself. 

I mean an actual time loop where every single thing happens the exact same way, down to the underlying rhythm of conversation. And where you can’t escape until you figure out the common problem then fix it. How would you escape it? And what if you mess up, in different ways, forever? Who would want that?!

—————————————————————————

You awoke with a sigh, realizing you had that dream again. Or was it a flashback since this happened a few weeks ago? You shrugged your shoulders and got to work sorting boxes. You were set to start on-campus work in a few weeks so you were just trying to do the bare minimum research wise. Plus, you wanted to really focus on decorating your new apartment and get acquainted with the town since you’d be living there for the next few years. 

After a few hours of scrambling and organizing, you sat on the floor (you were still in the process of buying furniture), and looked at your emails. 

One in particular caught your attention, so much so that you took off your glasses and rubbed your eyes, almost laughing at such a cartoony response. The subject line of this email was what confused you. It read “missing research paper - need citation”. It was an unfamiliar email, moreover, it was sent to your previous college email, which was linked to your past research publications.

Curious, you bit the inside of your cheek and read the email. 

“Dear Emme, 

Hope this email finds you well. I am a student from XXX University and have been working on a research project concerning XXX. Your research was one of the most recent and prominent examples as to why this area needs further study, however, I have not been able to access the paper I saved as a bookmark in my web browser. After extensive searching, I have been unable to find the original paper or even one of the articles that referenced it - almost as if the article has completely disappeared from existence! Is there a reason the research article is gone? If not, could you provide me with an idea of where it is and the proper citation for my research article?”

what. whAT. WHAT!?

Your research couldn’t be gone! This didn’t make any sense! Yes it was a few years old, but it couldn’t be gone from the web! There are research papers from the 1960s that are archived and accessible online for goodness sake!

You had to calm down. Take deep breaths. You continued trying to breathe as you pulled out your research flash drive. You looked for the paper on your there and found it, sighing in relief. It grounded you, reminding you that your work did exist. Just as you were set to attach the file and corresponding citation to the email, your internet stopped. 

Scratch that, your entire laptop stopped. 

You groaned. Yes, this was an older, refurbished model, but it’s been working fine. The screen distorted for a second, as if the extra pixel boxes emphasized the frozen nature of your screen. Before you even had time to process it, your laptop unfroze and you breathed a sigh of relief. 

Thank heavens. You had just moved and weren’t sure you could realistically afford a new laptop anytime soon. As you look over your screen, however, your relief shifts to panic. 

omg. oMG. OMG!

It’s gone. Your research files. The ones on your laptop and on your flash drive. The email is gone. Before you can refresh the page you get logged out. You can’t even log into your old email account - Error 404 Not Found. 

Your heart races. Then, it aches. You worked so hard on those projects. They were part of your scientific fabric and now both were just gone. Your years of work, gone in seconds. 

You felt like crying. But you decide not to, at least not until you’re in the shower where the tears can blend in with the cascading liquid as you sing emo music. 

For now, you decide a quick walk and some fresh air are what you need, so you grab your keys and head for the mailbox. You’ve only lived in this apartment for a week but you check the mail constantly in an effort to get in the habit rather than because you expect something. 

But today, you did get something. A small parcel with no return address. Curious, you take that and the grocery flyers to your apartment and open the package there. 

A phone? It’s from the same company as yours, just a slightly older model.

You blink at it, almost telepathically asking it what it’s doing in your mailbox. You decide to turn it in to the mail service and are about to put it back in its envelope when you notice a note. 

“Charge me” 

“What the hell is going on today?” You mutter as you pull out your charger and plug it into the phone.

You sit on the floor with this new phone in hand and sigh. “Why am I even taking orders from a mysterious note for anyway?”

Just then the screen lights up. There’s no passcode so opening the phone was super easy. The phone’s screen and minimal app selection almost made you think it was new, but the lack of setting it up told you that wasn’t the case. Who would buy this phone and not use it? And why did they send it to you? 

There is one app that calls to you, mostly because you’ve never seen it before. And because it was unlike the rest of the default apps on the screen.

RFA? What’s that?

Just then, the screen turns dark and green characters zoom up through the screen. You sucked with all tech but even you knew this reaction was abnormal. You swore you didn’t press the app but seeing the phone continue reacting, you become less confident. 

“Hello?” 

You stare at the screen. ‘Unknown’ was messaging you. 

You respond. Stupidly. Naively. And without thinking about the consequences. 

Because this was real life. Right?

What’s the worse that could happen?

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

I’m debating taking this next part a few routes...we’ll see what I decide...

If you, by any chance made it all the way down here, can you drop a reblog or something with your thoughts? Was Emme Cee likable? Did the flow make sense? Do you like where this is going? Let me know! 

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme fic prologue #DA writes #This was Real Life. Right?

[poeticblissme]

Journal Entry

Summary: Your feelings for Steve have left you winded, so you decide to write in your journal

Warnings: Swearing, mild depression, Slight heated kiss

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1746

A/N: REBLOG from my old account, old fic but one I really enjoyed writing

“Steve. Fucking. Rogers. that man is all types of perfect and he knows it. He also has to know that no matter what he did, no matter where he went, I would always follow, Because……Damn, now I sound like a stalker. Ugh why does he do this to me? Why am I tortured so? I know that I know why, but for the sake of my dignity, and our friendship I just…..I can’t.”

You closed your journal, sighing in defeat as you shoved the leather book back into your pillow case. You slid your hands up your legs, eyeing the floor that your feet would have touched if you had just grown a coupe more inches.

This was getting utterly ridiculous. You were the cause of your own misery. Had it been anyone else, you would have laughed it off and moved on. What made him special? It couldn’t have been those blue eyes from heaven, a lot of people have blue eyes. Of course his eyes do have a sparkle about them.

Or maybe it was his smile. The way his lips curved up just enough to create the most innocent, yet seductive smirk that could blow the panties right off every woman he looked at. You scoff at yourself, men smile at you all the time. That can’t be it.

Or maybe it was the way he never gave up. His constant determination to do the right thing. Maybe it was because he kept to his word. He never let anyone take away his beliefs. He never allowed anyone make him falter from his agenda. He never made it about him, but for the rest of the world.

Oh hell. Who were you kidding? It was him. Everything about him made him different. His looks, his heart, his soul. He was everything you wanted, and everything you love.  He was the reason you were here. He was the reason you smiled brightly. He was the one you wanted, he was the one you needed……and you couldn’t have him.

It wasn’t fair. You had fallen in love with the one man who could not afford to be brought down by love and it’s many responsibilities. He was the leader of the avengers for god sake. He goes on missions that put him and his team in danger. He can’t be worried about what his girlfriend is doing and if he is alright. It could jeopardize everything.

Besides that, there is no way he would feel the feelings for you that you feel for him. You were different. You did the computer work, you were the part time counselor. You did not fight, and you had no powers, what could he possibly see in you?

You mentally cursed yourself. You were being over-dramatic, this was Steve. You guys were best friends. If you can get though being shot in the chest after Hydra tried to take over the base, you can survive the figurative bullet you felt you took to the heart.

You were pulled from your self induced misery when there was a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” You asked calling out to the door.

“It’s Steve, Y/N, can I talk to you?” Steve replied from the other side of the door. There was a slight pause before you could hear his voice again adding to his previous statement. “It’s important.” He actually sounded nervous now that you were fully aware of his presence behind the door.

“Yeah, give me one sec.” You called with enthusiasm, though your face told a different story. Speak of the devil and he shall come, you thought to yourself.  This was that karma thing Natasha always talked about, what you did to deserve such cruel and unusual punishments you would have to figure out later.

You stood up, straightening your bright red tank top. You made sure each part of the bottom of your shirt was tucked in all the way around the dark blue jeans you wore over your black high heel leather boots. You flung your hand through your hair once, forcing a smile on your face as you called for Steve to enter.

Steve entered, his face looking abnormally pale.

“Jesus Steve.” You spoke, your faked smile turning into a real face of worry. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I’m just-” He shook his head and looked you in the eye. “You look nice. The bright red lipstick is a nice touch.”

“Thank you.” You spoke smiling brightly at him. God, it’s thing like this that make you feel like you do. if only he knew.

“Oh uh, right. Why I am here is that I had something to tell you.” He spoke taking another breath. He rubbed the back of his head and looked down in shame. “I just-”

You looked at him in concern not sure what was going on. You watched as he put his hand down, and looked you in the eyes. He was contemplating something, that much was clear. She could read it all over him. He looked sad, confused, and…curious.

He closed his eyes, inhaling a large amount of air in his lungs. As his eyes fluttered open he exhaled, looking into your eyes once more. Then, without warning Steve blinks, and forces his body forward toward you.

His hands gentle and soft, reached out and grabbed your shoulders. In one swift yet tender moment you are pulled into him, your lips flowing to each other and finally meting, sending your thoughts into a frenzy.

It took you milliseconds to understand what was happening. It took even less to realize how grateful you were to be able to taste him. How lovely it felt to have your mouths explore each other was beyond your description capabilities. Bottom line, you felt on top of the world, and the deeper the kiss got the more you began to crave.

He pulled away, not letting go of your shoulders as he bent his head down slightly to breath. He calmed and held his head up to meet your Y/E/C eyes. Both both of your breaths were still ragged and heavy, but Steve regained enough composure to be able to speak in his usual proper tone.

“I came to do that.” He spoke. Now much more confident than he was before. “I discovered you had feelings for me, and I realized that it would certainly be rude of me to not tell you the feelings are very much reciprocated.” He explained,that breathtaking smirk playing on his lips.

“I-….How did you-…. Who told you?” You asked softly, still trying to work your head around the last couple of minutes.

“You did.” He answered, letting go of your shoulders. You looked at him confused as he backed away from you, taking his feet to walk around you heading over to your bed.

You turned around and gasped. He pulled out the leather Journal from your pillow case, turning back around to hold the book out in front of him for you to see. You watched him sit down on your bed becoming much shorter, and looking down to his lap as he held the journal in his palm, and opened the book.

You were frozen, dead silent, watching him flip through the pages as if he were looking for something. He paused using his finger to scroll through the page, a smile now on his face.

Steve and I had lunch again today. As per usual we talked about everything and anything. I’m grateful I get to do that, I’m grateful I get to hear his voice, see his face glow as he learns something new, or is having fun. I’m just grateful for him.

Steve looked up and back down quickly confirming that you were still paying attention as you watched him read parts of the pages out loud.

Steve and I walked through the gardens today. It was beautiful, the sun glistened on Steve’s face highlighting his most defining features. I wish I could tell him how perfect he was, how special he was. I Wish he knew. It’s actually starting to hurt.

He paused, and flipped through once more landing on a page you recognized immediately, considering you wrote it not to long ago.

“Steve. Fucking. Rogers. that man is all types of perfect and he knows it. He also has to know that no matter what he did, no matter where he went, I would always follow, Because……Damn, now I sound like a stalker. Ugh why does he do this to me? Why am I tortured so? I know that I know why, but for the sake of my dignity, and our friendship I just…..I can’t.”

Steve closed the book, smirking once again as he placed the book on the night stand on his left side. He got off the bed and now stood tall and proud in front of you.

“Truth be told I have read every entry.” He began. “I went to return one of the books you borrowed when I noticed the journal on the floor, I’m guessing it fell out of the pillow case or something.-”

You watched him intently, listening to every word but still frozen solid from shock and slight embarrassment.  

“I picked it up opened it and found one of your entries. I read the entry and felt awful afterward for reading your personal property, but I can’t lie, I was so happy that I found it and read it because it confirmed you were in love with me just as much as I am in love with you.”

You felt tears brimming your eyelids, you ability to fight them failing.

“I wanted to tell you for so long, but I was frightened each time, and I never thought you would have those feelings for me. Once I saw you did I-, I had to tell you. So I waited, I waited for the right time and I felt that this..this was the time I had to tell you. I’m sorry it took so long.” He finished a small smile on his face as his eyes searched yours.

“The time doesn’t matter to me.” You spoke wiping the tears from your face. “The thing that matters to me is you.”

He chuckled, reaching out to kiss your forehead and pull you into a comforting embrace. Maybe karma was actually on your side today.

#steve x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #steve rogers fluff #Captain america

[nekoannie-chan]

Misunderstandings

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 1380 words.

Summary: Simple actions led you to think that Steve doesn’t feel the same to you when reality is different.

Warnings: None.

A/N: Flashbacks are in italics.

This is my entry to the @p8tn0lish ‘s Sweet 200 Challenge with the song prompt #10:

“So I moved to California, but it’s just a state of mind, it turns out everywhere you go, you take yourself, that’s not a lie. Wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine-it’s killing me slowly-”. Lana Del Rey, Fuck it I love you.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog. 

A year that has passed since you went to California, you accepted the mission because you wanted to get away from him, it was painful, he probably didn't even know that he had hurt you because you never managed to confess your feelings, but he believed that by going somewhere else you could forget it, but it seemed that life liked to remind you of its existence

You had returned to New York, your mission had already ended in California, you knew what awaited you, although this time you thought you could bear to see him again.

“What are you doing here? You asked in unison.

You knew Agent 13, you never had missions together because she always ended up arguing and fighting; mainly because she didn’t stop scrubbing her background to annoy you, although she pretended to hide it from others,

“S.H.I.E.L.D. left me in charge of Captain Rogers, “you answered him.

“Me too.

"It must be a mistake," you said in surprise.

"It's not a mistake, Agent," a voice pointed behind him.

"Director, are you planning that we work together?"

"Not exactly," Fury replied.

The two looked at each other confused.

You had a long time living in that building, however, you didn’t like to see Sharon there, and in a way, you felt that it disturbed your way of life.

 Steve had changed your life in many ways, the things you had lived together were too many to be forgotten so easily.

 Someone knocked on your door, you hoped it wasn't Sharon.

"Steve, what's up?"

You smiled like a fool as soon as you saw him.

"Do you have sugar?" He asked, showing you a cup.

“Sure, give me a moment.

"Well, the truth is that I had problems with the coffee maker, these appliances from your time are very complicated to use," he confessed.

“Do you want me to explain how to use it?”

“Please”.

You went to his apartment, as soon as you entered you saw that there was great chaos in the kitchen.

"You had several problems." 

 Every time you remembered the event you could not help but laugh, it had not been the only incident of this type that Steve had had with the electronics, you shared many as well as time together, of course, that bothered Sharon, since he used to ignore her

On your birthday, Steve threw a surprise party after you had told him you had always wished he had one. That day was the best of your life although there were not many guests more than you and him, you had a lot of fun.

He had decorated the dining room with balloons and streamers, he had thought of everything. You danced to songs of his time, although he kept apologizing because he thought he was doing it wrong. It was the best birthday of your life.

Every weekend you used to stay at your house watching movies and series, Steve insisted on catching up.

You were watching Titanic, that movie that always made you cry, he hugged you to console you, he was so close to you that without much thought you kissed him.

As soon as you separated, he stood up from the sofa.

"I-I have to go," he stammered.

He walked as fast as he could to the exit.

"Steve ...”

From that day on he started acting distant.

"I probably misread the signs," you thought.

Every time you tried to talk to him at work something would come up or he would find a way to avoid it, just as when you knocked on his door, you didn't get any kind of response.

 Steve invited you to a café near the Stark Tower, it seemed that all the employees knew him.

"Hi Beth, could you get us two slices of apple pie and two coffees, please?" He asked.

Beth didn't seem very happy with your presence there, you even seemed to notice her annoyance in the way she attended to them.

“Do you know her?” You asked Steve.

"Every time I came, she's the one who takes care of me, she's a nice girl," Steve replied.

 You began to believe that you had made a mistake; you felt that you had ruined everything, you didn’t know how to fix it, several times you tried to apologize, but it was as if he didn’t want to know anything about you.

You were going to do the shopping when you passed by the park near the building where you lived, there you saw Steve, you were going to approach when you realized that Beth was also with him, suddenly she kissed him.

Now you understood Steve's behavior, he was dating someone, you didn't know it, but he explained everything, he didn't feel anything for you.

“Agent Y/L/N, are you sure he wants to accept the mission?” Fury asked a little convinced.

"Of course, I have not the slightest doubt."

"Any special reason?"

"No, I just think it will be a good adventure," you lied.

You had decided to accept that mission to forget Steve if he was happy it was fine, but you also had to seek your happiness.

If you kept looking at it and having it close it would be very complicated, the best thing was to start somewhere else, so your wounds could heal.

You didn't tell anyone, you just left.

After that incident in the park, Steve had thought about everything that had happened, decided he would stop visiting the cafeteria after what Beth had done.

Steve was in love with you, but frightened by what had happened and didn’t know how to react, now he needed to fix things.

It was the door of your apartment and he rang the bell, there was no answer he supposed he had come out, he tried several times during the weekend, the result was always the same.

He looked for you at work, but neither did he find you, it was as if you had disappeared

"And Y/N?" He asked Maria.

"On a mission," he replied.

“When will he be back?”

"I don't know, you just told me he went on a mission."

“Where?”

"You didn't give me any more details, I'm sorry, Cap.”

All he had found was a note in your office when he managed to get in.

 So I moved to California, but it's just a state of mind

It turns out everywhere you go, you take yourself, that's not a lie

Wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine

It's killing me slowly

 He didn’t understand what it meant, he searched the Internet, but all he had found was that it belonged to a song, he had no idea how to find you.

You were already carrying your report, the mission had been a success, you entered the Triskelion, you walked through the corridors to reach your office, as soon as Steve saw you pass, he left immediately, he wanted to make sure it was you.

"Y/N" he called you.

“Captain Rogers”

“How have you been? Where have you been? ”He questioned.

He needed answers, he needed to fix things, he hadn't stopped loving you, and he wanted to know if you still had feelings for him.

"On a mission, what about his girlfriend captain?"

"Which girlfriend?" He asked confused.

"Beth, the waitress in the cafeteria near the Stark Tower."

"She is not my girlfriend," he clarified.

"I saw them kissing."

"I like you Y/N," he confessed.

"Captain, the director is looking for you," announced one of the recruits.

"I couldn't tell you ...”

"I looked for you so many times after what happened and you seemed to be avoiding me," you interrupted.

“I do not…”

"Rogers, the director is calling you," Rumlow said.

After that interruption you closed the door of your office, you needed to process everything that had happened in the last minutes.

Steve was upset by the interruption, he would try to talk to you after work, this time he would fix everything and he didn’t care what the consequences might be.

All-day you were thinking about what happened, you started to unpack your bags, you turned on the radio while you arranged things.

 So I moved to California, but it's just a state of mind

It turns out everywhere you go, you take yourself, that's not a lie

Wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine

It's killing me slowly

 What should you do you couldn't forget it, in the end, if it was your turn, maybe you could give him a chance as long as he took the first step.

The doorbell of your apartment rang, you couldn't help but smile, now if all the doubts would be dispelled.

#p8tchallenge #Steve Rogers #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rodgers imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve x reader #steve x you #steve x y/n #avengers fanfiction #avengers fic #avengers one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel one shot #marvel fic #captain america #capitán américa fanfic #captain america one shot #captain america fic #captain america fanfiction #songfic

[sp4c3-0ddity]

tagged by @hailkuvira and @amillionsmiles. thanks!! <3

tagging uhhhh who have i somewhat interacted with that writes and hasn’t been tagged already uh @magical-merlance, @cosmicdusttrails, @tiredgaykeith, @rueitae, @elby9001, @ anyone else that wrote fic this year and wants to take a stab at it??

STATS:

Fics posted:  they’re all...VLD

Tumblr exclusives:  my fic tag for your viewing pleasure. but here’s a list of everything (i think) that i didn’t also post on ao3 (with the exception of a few that will be posted probably within the next week):

Misnomer, a crack fic

a euphoric plance kiss that i just wrote on a text post i reblogged

a Cupid AU plance ficlet i also wrote based on a text post

ficlet about Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid after Lotor escapes them

Pidge getting Love Advice from Lance, also an addition to someone else’s text post

How I think Hunk learned Pidge is a girl, with a teeny tiny bit of plance because it’s a section of a plance fic i meant to finish that i’ve since lost this is why you save/back up your work often

Outtakes from ‘Howl at the Moon’

A The Wizard of Oz AU (honestly bless the anon that prompted this)

A shallura hurt/comfort prompt fill

Whatever the hell this is, all i know is that it’s gen but still involves kissing and is kinda a crack fic

FF.Net:  N/A

Archive of Our Own:  i’ll just go with oldest first like i did in the last section

Give a Little (5859 words), fake dating, my first posted plance fic

Ship to Wreck (3544 words), gen (despite the title hehe), sailor/age of (western) exploration-type Pidge-centric AU

Spectrum (9562 words), gen, a Wheel of Time/fantasy AU

Winging It (2187 words), gen, fun canon-verse fic where they race paper airplanes

A Slip of the Thumb (18697 words), plance, wrong number/text modern AU

Break a Leg and Other Cliches (29293 words), plance, modern ballroom dance competition AU

Incompatible Schedules (1025 words), plance, canon-verse fluff

All’s Fair in Love and Gaming (653 words), plance, canon-verse fluff

Be Gentle (4881 words), plance, canon-verse body swap AU

If Wishes Were Fishes (1167 words), plance, canon-verse vaguely bittersweet beach fic

Lightning Round (3003 words), plance, canon-verse battle couple in training fic

Build on Shaky Ground (3337 words), gen/plance (platonic), kinda angsty Garrison era

Unknowable (562 words), plance, canon-verse philosophical fluff

Wisdom of Hindsight (1344 words), plance, canon-verse angst

Caught (2727 words), plance, canon-verse lovebug AU

In Time (724 words), pallura, canon-verse hurt/comfort

The Art of Seduction (2075 words), plance, canon-verse fluff

Falling’s Not the Problem (26179 words), plance, future canon angst with a happy ending sorta thing

Smuggle Your Heart (21931 words), plance, Star Wars-ish AU

Pocket of Space (6203 words), kallura, a Vorkosigan Saga-ish AU that’s kinda...languishing at the moment

Howl at the Moon (10271 words), plance, future canon undercover fake marriage thing

Failure to Launch (1740 words), gen, Sam & Coran hurt/comfort and feels in general

Specter (18325 words), plance, future canon AU, and, um, major character death fic

What Not to Do in Chemistry Lab (2458 words), gen, modern/college AU with my chemist Hunk headcanons

Search and Rescue (1684 words), gen, pre-canon baby Holts fluff

Shopping for Disaster (6108 words), gen, canon-verse Allura & Pidge bonding-gone-wrong fic

Ink on a Page (8807 words*), gen, Pidge-centric Inkheart AU

In the Making (8184 words), plance, canon-verse/future canon ~over the years~ kinda thing

Strangeness and Charm (73407 words*), plance, a collection of prompts cross-posted from tumblr so they’re really a bunch of individual fics but i’ll count them as one for now

*word count not entirely accurate because subsequent chapters are complete but not posted

Total number:  39 (counting S&C as one fic) Total word count:  288,132 part of me wishes i was making this up

Ship/Character breakdown: Ship breakdown:  plance, undoubtedly, wins; gen stuff takes second place. then there’s the odd shallura/kallura/pallura stuff (i like all Allura ships so) Character breakdown:  hmm. Pidge and Lance dominate, obviously. Pidge also tends to dominate by gen stuff, with Allura possibly coming in second. Poor Shiro and Keith (though i still love them) kinda......lose

Characters that had the main focus: Pidge in much of my plance and gen stuff, Lance in much of my plance stuff, Allura in a decent amount of my gen stuff as well as in that languishing kallura fic

Specifics:

Best/worst title? Best title:  None really jump out at me, but I think‘Build on Shaky Ground’. Also before i suffer some serious post-posting (hehe) embarrassment, I’ve titled this brand-spanking new fic ‘The Start of Something New?’ (the question mark is compulsory) and i’m way too proud of myself for that reference to HSM at the moment. Honorable mention to ‘Search and Rescue’ for sounding more serious than the fic’s plot actually is

Worst title:  I’m actually displeased with most, but only ‘Smuggle Your Heart’ makes me cringe every time I see it

Best/worst first line? Best:  not sure but as i look now the first line from this fic gave me a good laugh:

Lance thought that after two years in space fighting furry purple aliens while flying a sentient robot lion that merged with four other sentient robot lions to form one large robot man nothing could possible surprise him.

Worst:  if i actually took the time to look through all my fics, i’d probably find so many awful first lines, but i’m too lazy so this one is a weak first line from my one and only shallura fic:

Shiro had never seen Matt and Pidge happier.

Best/worst last line? Best:  uh to be honest i think they’re all kinda bad but here are a couple funny ones (from this and this) that don’t require much work on my part sorry i’m lazy:

Lance watched him go for a tic, shrugged, and went off in search of someone else to bother, preferably someone he would not mind kissing.

“It was strange enough that I actually don’t want to forget, so listen closely, because I won’t tell it twice.”

Worst:  point at any one of my fics. i’m never happy with the Last Line. but here from Shopping for Disaster (it makes sense in context):

He still wrote the ticket.

General questions:

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

I wrote...way more

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

definitely VLD in general, because i was still...hesitant to get into it?? i didn’t watch it till spring of this year 2017 a few months after season 2 came out, i think What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

There’s this one (named ‘Siren Song’) that has yet to be posted into my collection on ao3 and it’s a concept i very much want to expand into a fully fledged long fic. and, to be honest, i thought it would get more notes than it did

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

By tumblr notes, this one ('A Sticky Situation’ on ao3) takes the cake with 168 notes

By kudos/bookmarks/comments on ao3, that would be A Slip of the Thumb with 225 kudos and 31 bookmarks

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

Me, constantly:  I write gen fic too guys (in all seriousness, my Inkheart AU is going to be great)

Story that could have been better?

Can i say all of them?? No?? Okay, taking recent fic into account (because i do think i’ve improved overall even in the last few months), i wish i’d spent more time and put more effort into ‘Shopping for Disaster’, especially with making the action scenes more plausible, making the Druid scarier (because i want to get better at writing horror, believe it or not), etc. Pro tip though:  don’t write while you have a headache

And actually now that i think of it, I would scrap all of ‘Wisdom of Hindsight’ because it’s awful and uses a trope i really hate

Sexiest story?

sex?? in my fanfic??

but anyway!! hmm...’The Art of Seduction’ probably had the most graphic (except also not really) makeout scene. ‘Propriety’ (part of the collection) was almost definitely the most suggestive. ‘Howl at the Moon’ had the double whammy of a fakeout makeout and a fake marriage along with the kiss at the very end of the fic. so i dunno, i guess it’s in the eye of the beholder??

as far as vibe is concerned though, i actually think ‘Smuggle Your Heart’ is kinda...sexy?? *shrugs* Saddest story?

‘Specter’ without a doubt. *cue evil laughter* Most fun?

‘Smuggle Your Heart’ was actually wildly fun to write. i was really into action scenes at the time

Story with single sweetest moment?

not sure, but in my humble opinion it would the majority of ‘Burnout’ (also from the collection), particularly this sizeable bit:

Pidge would never admit it to anyone - except to Lance himself, maybe - but she liked it when he clung to her like this, or when she latched herself onto him. There was just something soothing about having another human body pressed against hers, a balm for the mind and a relaxant for the muscles.

Some of the tension trickled out of her as she leaned back into Lance, and his arms tightened around her, sensing her need.

“Guess what?” Lance said, voice soft and close to her ear.

“…did Coran get his hand stuck in something weird again?”

Lance rubbed his nose - scratching, probably - against the side of her head, then chuckled, the vibration reverberating from his chest into her back. “No,” he said. “Try again.”

“Hunk figured out a way to imitate peanut butter?”

“All right, you get one more guess before I tell you.”

Pidge rolled her eyes but said, “Did you finally find out how to swim in the upside down pool?”

“Oh, ha ha, very funny, Pidge,” Lance grumbled.

For some reason, that made her giggle, if only because the image of Lance’s last pitiful attempt to swim laps in the Castle’s pool cheered her.

“So…what?” Pidge said, turning her head slightly so that Lance could see her frown. Of course he would dangle a mystery in front of her without giving her a chance to solve it…

“I love you,” he said, pressing a doting kiss to her forehead.

Pidge’s face flushed, pleased and embarrassed all at the same time, her worries dissolving as easily as sugar in hot tea. “So?” she said, trying to show him how unaffected she was. “I love you too, so it’s not that special.”

“But you are, Pidge,” Lance said. He buried his face in her hair. “You’re special, and smart, and confident, and we wouldn’t be able to function without you. And anytime you’re faced with a challenge, it bows down to you, its queen - wait, no, it’s empress.”

Pidge laughed and rubbed her face. “Oh my God, Lance,” she said. “That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“But it’s true,” Lance insisted. “And I know for a fact you love being praised.”

“Well…”

Lance let go of her and moved away, and Pidge missed him instantly…at least until he knelt on the floor next to her, putting him at below eye level in relation to her. He cupped her face, gently, and made sure she met his eyes. “You’re amazing, Pidge, and when you crack this code, we’ll all sing your praises.”

Pidge rested her forehead against his, reaching behind him to bury her hands in his hair. “But especially you, right?”

He smirked. “I’ll be the loudest one.”

Lance then kissed her, so softly it wasn’t much more than a warm brush of lips, and he pulled back before her eyes even closed. “Also,” he added, with a slow, sly smile, “it wouldn’t hurt to take a break, right?”

Hardest story to write?

This borderline crack fic that had a shippy premise but the prompter challenged me to write gen for it. i succeeded (i think), but was it worth it?? probably

Easiest/most fun story to write?

They’re all fun to a certain degree, but this The Wizard of Oz AU was great fun once I hit my stride. also honorable mention to ‘Smuggle Your Heart’, of which i wrote about 17k words in one day in a hyperfocusing haze (i didn’t sleep till 3 AM that day and i would’ve skipped dinner if my parents hadn’t reminded me).

(i haven’t had a day so productive yet inefficient since)

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

I actually....disliked Lance until i started shipping plance, and then my love for him only grew the more i wrote him lol. even season 1 Lance can be fun to write now, if only because he’s so ridiculous

Most overdue story?

hmm, perhaps something like ‘Failure to Launch’ because there’s a lot to explore in the adultier adults important to Team Voltron, particularly what Sam - the dad - might feel about his pretty young children getting sucked into a fight like this. but *shrugs*

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

not really?? i...kinda played it safe?? perhaps ‘Ink on a Page’ is my riskiest venture to date because it’s a long fic and i have a poor track record with long fic that i start posting before finishing. hopefully i’m learning discipline and like actually finishing things

also i think ‘Specter’ was pretty risky, as would be writing anything i really have very little experience in feeling, plus people tend to feel very strongly about major character deaths and i was unsure how people (particularly people i interact with) would receive it. and i guess i learned that it’s okay to take risks?? i was pleased with the way the fic turned out (even if it broke my heart to write it), and it was sorta begging me to be written (you know that itch you get when a story wants out??). and ultimately i’m writing for myself...but it’s still nice when other people like your writing too

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

Finish ‘Ink on a Page’

Finish and post my definitely unconventional The Holiday AU that’s currently languishing as a Word doc of about 20k words

Write something amazing for the plance zine

Expand/write my sailor AU (of which ‘Siren Song’ is the prelude)

Write a slow burn plance fic (to be fair, The Holiday AU and the sailor AU are looking to be slow burn, of sorts)

Maybe...not write so much by the seat of my pants, be less impulsive and more thoughtful, outline more but remain flexible, be more efficient so i don’t burnout, push myself to write even when i’m not feeling ‘inspired’

Not compare myself to other writers (sad but true)

write for a different fandom/pairing?? who even knows at this point

#this got really long whoops #qna #thank you for the tags though!! #this was so much fun #but God i'm still only just understanding how disorganized i am #and the fact that i forget so much of what i write is kinda sad #so answers may not be entirely accurate #reem writes fic #plance #because let's face it that's mostly what i write