#yet another time the internet has disappointed me

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere Batfam x reader who cant feel pain

HEhehehe i just remembered a disease and I just had to write about a reader with it x yandere batfam.

Have you guys heard of CIPA? Its "Congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis" which is basically a genetic condition when a patient cant feel pain to any noxious stimulus and can also not sweat, and yall are probably like "but SNoWWW, that doesnt like a diSEase. More like a superpower!!!" um no. You need to be able to feel pain or else you wont know what part of your body has been injured and get help before its too late. You could have thumbtack plunged in your foot and u wouldnt know unless it got infected and u probably saw ur foot changing color.

And now yall are like "but SNoWw, the anhidrosis part, where u cant sweat, sounds nice! who would to look like a sweaty pig in this age????" NO! Sweating is a necessary physiologic phenomenon because it lets your body cool down as it releases heat. If you dont sweat, you'd overheat and DIE!

Okay now that we've covered the basic info, lets get into it:

So, Batfam finds out about reader when she's just running into danger with little to no care for self preservation, and they dismiss it as you being just another dumb teen wanting to be hero and "change the world". Time passes by and Bruce is impressed by your passion and decides to take you under his wing.

It isnt until months later that Bruce discovers something odd about your behaviour. You were standing in the kitchen with the rest of the batkids, laughing and having a good time when he saw Dick had pulled out a hot pan of cookies from the oven and placed it on the aisle. The pan slipped, and without thinking, you had grabbed the hot pan with your bare hands very calmly and placed it back on the aisle, without so much as a hiss of pain or even a sweat.

And now that he thinks about it, Bruce has never seen you sweat. Not during training, not during summer, not even when after you ran laps around the mansion.

With a quick search on the Internet, he finds out about the disease and of course its Dick who he confides in first about his suspicions. Soon, the rest of the batfam has heard the rumours and now they're all watching you keenly to see if its true.

But Jason is the one who tests out the theory quickly by spilling some hot tea on your hand when you were busy talking to Tim about the importance of sleep. The room goes dead silent as they watch your hand turn red, yet you fail to react. It took you a few seconds to realise that they're all looking at you, and when you follow their gaze, it takes you a few seconds to react.

Or fake a reaction.

You shriek, pulling your reddening hand as you run to the sink and run it under cold water, your mind trying to come up with an excuse. But you know its too late when Bruce's hand comes to clasp your shoulder, pulling you away from the sink as his eyes examine your injured hand and... you.

"Bruce I-"

"I know, Y/n." He gives you assuring nod, carefully bandaging your hand as you sat in his office. "You have CIPA, hm?"

You looked down. Why bother lying? He's Batman, he'll find out anyways.

Bruce lifted your head and smiled gently at you. "Its okay. I'm not disappointed in you. I just... you could've told me." You shook your head. "If I did, you would've treated me differently... like a freak."

He sighed. "You are different, but I would've never treated you like a freak. You're not a freak. If anything, between us, I'm more of a freak than you." He was talking about being a hero, but you giggled at the thought of him referring to being a rich dude who cosplays in spandex.

Bruce cupped your cheek and smiled. "I promise, no one will treat you like a freak. But we will have to take some precautions for your safety."

-

He lied. You've never felt more like a freak than you do now.

Every single day would start off with Dick waking you up and sticking a thermometer in your mouth because he needs to make sure that you're not overheating, even though Bruce has set a thermostat in your room that he controls and he's programmed it to turn your room temperature change by the hour.

Then Dick would start checking you all over for any bruises or injuries, even a scratch, that you may have caused yourself in your sleep. Originally, Damian was the one who had a whole checklist as he examined your body, but that all ended the moment you smacked him when he asked you to lift your shirt. Dick would just have you go and check yourself in the bathroom and trust you when you said you're all good. Also, you're much nicer to Dick than you are to the rest of the brothers (its his puppy dog eyes and that sweet voice that compels you to do as he asks. He's just too nice.)

Dick would then lead you to down for breakfast with the family, where Alfred already has your glucometer out because of course, they must check your blood sugar level every day, lest they find out you're diabetic or something. Only then would you be served your meal, which is a highly nutritous, perfeclty seasoned, balanced dish because they want to make sure you dont have any vitamin deficiencies (because how would they know???? you dont feel pain). But you cant eat just yet. No no, whichever brother is closer, most often Jason, will first taste your food to make sure its not too hot to consume (because you dont realise you've burned the roof of your mouth that one time when Tim ate a slice of pizza that was fresh out of the oven and huppahhuffpuhh the morsel out). Jason would then give you the go to eat and you finally do. You make sure to finish the whole plate (because otherwise Bruce will make note of it and then interrogate you "medically" why you didnt feel like eating all of it?)

After breakfast, while the rest of the batkids get to go to school and work, you dont (because Bruce thinks that your immune system could be weak and he cant risk you catching any diseases from the outside.) No, you get a special trip to the infirmary where Bruce and Alfred do a more thorough medical check up, taking your vitals, JOTTING IT DOWN, while Alfred hooks you up to an IV drip of vitamins. And even though they go to such extents to ensure that you're healthy, they still take you to a skilled doctor once a week for regular check ups. Bruce wanted to keep the doctor in the house to do daily check ups, but you talked him out of it that you dont want to feel like a lab rat who has her blood taken every day. Once a week is fine, Bruce.

Once the medical check up is done, Bruce would then take you with him, either to Wayne enterprises where you sit in his office as he imparts you "business education that no school can teach you." which you believe because... well he has managed to triple the Wayne wealth even after his parents death. If he's working from home, then he'll let you accompany him in his home office where you can either read a book he chose for you (because Bruce prefers to homseschool you himself) or do a puzzle/case he created specifically for you. If he's working in the batcave, then he'll let you tag along but you can only work here by brainstorming or doing some computer research, but in no way are you allowed to ever go on field and fight. No, not since your last incident.

Just 2 months ago, you were patrolling with Jason (because Bruce refused to let you go alone now. He just wont risk it) and you encountered some bad guys who were a little more well equipped than you two had expected. A fight broke out, and in the process you got hurt badly. Of course, you didnt realise it because you didnt feel any of the punches or the bone fracturing. Jason could only look at you in dread as you smashed your head against the villain's head until the guy passed out, all while your nose bled, you were covered in bruises from top to bottom, AND you had a bone sticking out of your arm.

"Jay? I think I'm hurt?" You asked as blood coated your teeth.

After that, Bruce forbid you from going out on the field altogether because you just dont know when to stop. If it werent for bones sticking out or blood dripping down your face, you wouldnt know that you've been injured.

Anyways, at lunch, almost everyone has returned from work/school and you get yet another balanced meal (temperature tested by another brother). You're now scheduled for some exercises, usually conducted by Damian (under Dick's supervision because otherwise, you'd just be smacking that devil's spawn.) You guys use the gym in the basement, where Damian makes you run on the treadmill for some time, during which he does not take his eyes off you once because he needs to know when he should stop you, especially since you dont sweat or are even huff. If he didnt keep time, you could probably run for a long time and not realise that your legs or lungs are begging you to stop and take a break. As you hop off the machine, he's immediately taking your temperature. He does it after every exercise he makes you do.

After that is done, you spend time with Tim who likes to have you try on little gadgets that should "help you feel pain", but so far, he hasnt had any luck (but he doesn seem to be doing good in disguising trackers in your daily wear things). Oh and Damian loves to join in because he gets to sneak up on you and prick you with needles to help Tim see if your sensory pathways work. They dont, but you dont need your pain receptors to detect Damian coming up behind you as you smack him when he tries to prick you.

Then dinner is served, and then you're ushered straight to bed where Dick, or more often- Bruce has you do a self check like the one Dick does in the morning, but Bruce also makes sure to check your eyes to see if you "accidentally scratched your cornea" or whatever, tucks you in, tells you that he's so proud of you for how youre handling this and that you can come to him anytime, for anything. He kisses your forehead, wishes you goodnight, and leaves.

Half an hour later, Jason sneaks into your room with the goodies- junk food and video games. You two have the strongest bond because Jason is the one who treats you the most normal, and Jason does it partly to piss off Bruce but partly because he cares about your mental health. He knows it cant be good for you to be cooped up in the mansion under supervision like a bird in a gilded cage.

So sometimes, he sneaks you out of the mansion and takes you out on late night rides on his bike. You can even watch him fight villains, but you're sat far away and can never interferre.

Unfortunately for you two, this sneaking out will have to end because Bruce had recently decided to set up some cameras in your room because he wanted to make sure you slept well without any abnormal breathing patterns. Bruce hopes he doesnt have to use restraints on you, because he's not blind. He knows you're uncomfortable with this intricate routine and knowing your impulsive self, you'd probably break your own bones to get out of these restraints. And then he'll be forced to use sedatives and he really doesnt wanna rely on drugs... he likes your company when you're not droopy.

And as Bruce had anticipated, you broke down. You finally tried to leave, and he could see the color draining your face as you realised that there is no leaving.

"Why isnt the door opening?" You asked Bruce, as his four sons slowly surrounded you.

"You dont have to run away, Y/n-" He tried to calm you down but you flinched away, eyes wide as you looked at him like he was going to harm you.

"Bruce, why isnt the fucking door opening?" Your voice trembled, shooting him teary glare before focusing your eyes back on the boys who were closing in on you.

"You're meant to stay here, inside, where its safe." He answered, heart aching at the alarmed stance you took, your fight-or-flight was going to kick in. He took another step towards you, hands raised in surrender. "We can keep you safe-" thats all it took for you to bolt as the boys began chasing you. Realistically, you knew you couldnt escape them but something about their intensely concerned calls for your name had you jumping out of the window.

Glass shattered and sharp shards embedded themselves in your skin and feet, but you didnt react to them. No, your brain wasnt screaming in pain, it was screaming for you to get out!

Adrenaline pumped you to run into the dark woods surrounding the mansion, but you were soon knocked to the ground by Dick, who cushioned your fall by placing you on top of him as his hands wrapped around your form like a cage. "Y/n, calm down and listen-"

You began thrashing in his arms, screaming in agony. "Let ME GO! YOU'RE HURTING ME-!" Dick's arms loosened instinctively and you took that as a chance to elbow him in the throat and run, thanking some deity for letting Dick forget that you cant feel pain.

But your relief is short lived as Damian catches you and pushes you to the ground harshly. "Damian! Be careful! She could break a bone-"

"Bones can heal, Drake." Damian barked back, pulling you up before he pushed you against tree. "Let me go, you maniac-" Damian's hand clamped around your throat, making you shut up. "You're the one who's a maniac. Look at you! You've fucking hurt yourself because if your astounding stupidity!"

You whimpered, clawing at his hand wrapped around your throat. "Dami- p-please let go- you're hurting me!" You cried out, but your eyes went wide as he squeezed your throat and bared his teeth at you. "Not falling for it, dumbass." So... fooling Damian wasnt as easy a feat as it was fooling Dick.

You stopped the act and looked at him dead serious. "Let me go, Damian, or-"

"Or what?"

Or what? Or what? Did he think you were out of options? Out of escape plans?

You dont know why, but that triggered something inside you.

Damian and Tim could only watch as you suddenly slammed the back of your head against the tree. "Y/n-" He gasped in horror as you leaned your head forward before slamming it back against the hard rough surface. This time, Damian's hand that was wrapped around your neck felt your blood around his fingers.

"Its my life and I get to decide how I should live it." You sneered before raising your head again to bash it, but Damian's hand quickly slipped from your neck to the back of your head, cushioning it when you smacked it back, the skin on the back of his hand breaking as it made contact with the bark.

You pushed him away and tried to make a run for it, but Tim grabbed your wrist. You tried to pull away, but he had a death grip on it. "Y/n, stop! You need to listen-"

"Oh is that so? I think I need this." You used your other hand to punch yourself in the face (because Tim would've dodged it if you punched him), making your nose bleed. But you didnt feel any pain, and now you were acting like a super soldier zombie that has no concept of self preservation who is going through fucked up lengths to prove her point.

Your eyes caught the sight of a glass shard poking out of your thigh. "Wanna see something cool?" You pulled out the shard, not paying mind to the blood oozing out. "Y/n, stop-" Tim begged, and you saw Damian froze in the back as you raised the shard.

They didnt know what your next target was- slashing your wrists, slitting your throat, or stabbing your stomach, but fortunately, they didnt have to find out as Jason came up behind you and injected you with a tranquilliser.

Sadly, you never felt the prick or sensed the hero sneaking up behind you.

thoughts? also, what other diseases would u guys like me to write for. i just adore these cool medical abnormalities lol

#yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere batboys #yandere bruce wayne #yandere jason todd x reader #yandere jason todd #yandere dick grayson #yandere damian wayne #yandere damian x reader #yandere tim drake #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere family

[redr0sewrites]

Can you write Vox x reader where like the reader just says like really unhinged things and just like vile things whenever they rage and stuff like the internet could be slow or smth and the reader is just like “IM GOING TO RIP OFF MY SKIN” idk man I’m kinda just self projecting rn like you can right anything with it tbh idk sorry for rambling anyway you don’t have to do this if you don’t wanna

THIS IS SO MEEEEE I LOVE THIS IDEA SM!!! sorry it took me a hot minute to reply to this i have over 70 hazbin hotel requests in my inbox 😭

🥀Cw: fluff, crack, silly vox

when he first met you, vox was charmed by your seemingly sweet nature- that is, until you were pissed

your unholy screech of how you were going to rip off your skin if he cut the wifi again was both endearing and confusing in his eyes

vox would just short circuit for a second, just blinking at you while he tries to process what you just said

once it clicks, he just starts giggling. vox very rarely genuinely laughs, most of his laughs are professional or part of the persona he adopts as the leader of vox enterprises, but when he's so shocked by what you just said, he can't control the booming laughter thay fills the room

he's wheezing and gasping, each barking laugh only pissing you off more

"what's so funny? if you keep laughing i am going to fucking break ur fingers like carrot sticks!" you snap, and vox only giggles harder

after a few seconds, you can't help but notice how adorable his laughter is, and soon you don't mind it as much

once you two are officially together, you notice how stressed vox often is, yet how he seems to visibly relax around you

the batshit crazy things you say, which normally disgusts other people, only seem to amuse him

its actually a wonderful dynamic because you bring some spontaneity and slight insanity into vox's otherwise irritating and depressing lifestyle, and vox balances out the crazy things you say and calms you down every time

you often find yourself searching for new phrases to baffle him with, and for new ways to make him laugh

after vox has a stressful day, he enjoys just listening to you ramble about the most insane things and adores hearing whatever fucked up saying you've adopted recently

vox notices himself beginning to copy your speech patterns. he only begins to realize when he slips in an exceptionally odd metaphor into a work meeting and everyone stares at him, yet his heart skips a beat at the thought

there's something so charming to him about the fact that he's adopting your mannerisms, and you truly make him laugh when no one else can

whenever another one of the vees pisses him off, he always comes to you for advice on incredibly deranged comebacks, and you never disappoint!

he's won multiple arguments by just repeating one of your fucked up sayings and the other vees being too lowkey shocked to disagree

vox LOVES IT when you diss people he hates, hearing you ramble some fucked up insults about alastor made him fall in love with you all over again

"that worm on a string fucked up karen cut bob looking ass- if i see him around here again im going to eat a fucking brick" *cue vox looking at you with the biggest heart eyes*

overall, you are both menaces, but you're menaces in love ♥️

vox lay with his head in your lap, the blue light of his screen illuminating the dim room as you rambled mindlessly about your day.

"and THEN, this fucking asshole tried to flirt with me! ME!! as if he doesn't know were dating! ugh, it makes me feel like i have an entire beehive living beneath my skin. i swear if he even looks at me again im going to lick wet cement i can NOT deal. how can you even work with him? he's such a fucking CREEP voxy, i'm going to cut off those ugly ass wings and shove them so far down his throat- hey, are you even listening?"

you look down to see vox half asleep, his eyelids drooping as his light dimmed. "keep talking.." he murmurs, looking up at you with a lazy smile on his face. "you're my favorite person t' listen to.."

i love the idea of vox with a partner who challenges his very idea of power. he clearly wraps himself in a sort of persona, surrounding himself with powerful people and acting like he's so serious and important. i love the idea of him falling in love with someone who can break down his walls in seconds, someone who can dismantle his entire bravado act and who allows him to truly be himself. this is such a wonderful prompt and i am eating this up. nonnie ur awesome!!!!

#vox x reader #vox x you #vox x oc #vox x y/n #vox fluff #vox headcanons #vox headcanon #vox imagine #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x oc #hazbin hotel vox x you #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x oc #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #vox my beloved #the vees

[ao3commentoftheday]

On a whim and because I was momentarily taken by a new fandom I had made a requests accepted fic where I took in requests. From a few requests I wrote I got two requests from the same person and wrote them but they were so annoying because all the response I got was "I want this to be longer"

That was something that added to me eventually not being as into the fandom anymore and so I haven't written the other requests for a long while.

It's part many things and is also because the fandom is very very new so the characters' personalities aren't that known yet so I'm not quite sure how to characterize them in my writing. So I feel a bit guilty about not writing the other requests and regret completing the request of the disrespectful person first, I didn't know they'd be like that until they commented that reaction to what I wrote.

Sorry for the ramble but TLDR how does a writer handle feelings of guilt from not completing requests quickly? Like I think it's been months now.

... and it's been even more months since you dropped this ask in my inbox, sorry!

To start with, I'm just going to flag for folks that you should not post "I'm taking requests" works on AO3. It's against the Terms of Service, so if it gets reported, the PAC team will ask you to remove it. You don't say here where you posted yours, but I just wanted to give everyone a heads up on that count.

I'm really sorry that your experience with writing for requests went kind of sour on you. That's never a fun time. I can see how it would sour you on the practice, especially in conjunction with the fandom being new and the characters still not very fleshed out.

When it comes to disappointing people, you kind of have to pick your battles. Human beings these days encounter thousands of people in any given week, thanks to the internet, and we can't hold ourselves to the same standards of caring for a person we've interacted with one via a screen and the people we've built up relationships with.

That isn't to say it's alright to be a dick to people. Wil Wheaton has been very clear about that. It's just that carrying guilt over something you haven't done for a stranger is very different from carrying guilt over something you haven't done for your partner or your best friend.

In my experience, the best way to move forward is just to reply to the message that gave you the request and say, "I'm sorry, I don't think I can work on this right now. Please feel free to share it with another author." You can add in that you hope they find someone. You can change the "right now" to "after all". You can make the message as long or as short as you want, but just include those 2 ideas:

I'm not going to fulfill this request

if you're still wanting to read this thing, ask someone else to write it (or write it yourself)

The guilt is because you know that someone wanted a story and they haven't received it. What you don't know is whether they still want that story, whether they specifically want it from you and only you, and to what degree they were invested in the idea versus just throwing something out there on a whim.

If you do still want to write the stories, remember that fandom is a hobby not a job. Fic requests aren't assignments. You don't have any due dates. Inspiration comes and goes as it pleases, and sometimes we bite off more than we can chew.

Be kind to yourself, anon. Write the stories that interest you. Give away the ones that don't. Allow yourself the time you need to finish what you want to do. 💗

#asks and answers

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: It's Rebecca Black day

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As expected, your mother is waiting anxiously for your return. It’s not often you’re at the mercy of her disapproval but she has some choice words for both you and Roxie.

Why didn’t you call? You forgot to, everything was so chaotic. Why would you make me worry like that? You know how I am, it isn’t fair to not answer your phone. I was about to call the police. You’ve heard the same aimed at your sister dozens of times but it’s much different to be at the end of it. 

Once she’s done and you feel thoroughly guilty, you retreat to your room. That’s all you wanted. For the last day, all you wanted was to hide away. Yet, now that you’re safely behind familiar walls, you still feel unsettled. 

That’s enough excitement for a lifetime. How does Roxie think that is fun? It’s terrifying. 

You take out your laptop, your most prized possession, and sink back into your virtual cave. It’s safe there. The things you see on the internet are distant and often times fake. Fanfiction and streams and discussion boards. It’s all so menial and unimportant. It’s not finding a job and dragging your butt to work five days a week or disappointing your mother. 

Mm, well, you should check the job boards again. Something’s going to come up eventually. That’s what everyone says and those people have jobs. Even Roxie works, even if it is at a night club. It’s work and she brings home some impressive tips. When your mom asked her to get you a gig, she just laughed. 

You interviewed at Taco Bell a few weeks ago but you haven’t got a call. That’s probably not going to work out. Move on, try again and again and again. 

The computer doesn’t keep your focus as usual. Maybe it’s that you’re overtired or that your mom was so upset or everything that happened last night, but you just can’t rein it in. You close your laptop and lay flat on your bed. You close your eyes, exhaustion hot on your eyelids, but you can’t sleep. You’re no good at napping. What are you good at? 

You sigh and kick your feet. What are you going to do? You can’t spend another summer like this. You’re not like everyone else. You didn’t get into your school and you didn’t get some lofty job from your uncle’s company. As much as you can blame it on other’s luck, you have to acknowledge you’re own shortcoming. You procrastinate, you get nervous, and sometimes, you just avoid things altogether. 

You get up and grab your purse. The strap catches on your sweater and knocks it onto the floor. You search for your phone and pull it out. You bend to retrieve your cardigan and toss it with your purse back onto the dress. You look down as something flutters onto the carpet. 

You didn’t forget about the little note. It’s the weight that been on your shoulders. You take your phone and the paper and sit on the side of the bed. You can rip it up, crumple it and toss it in the bin, pretend nothing ever happened. You should. Just forget about the worst night of your life. 

You can’t. It’s not about your sister’s drunken display or your embarrassment. It’s about a job.  

You hang your head as your nose tingles. Your mom works her butt off and she’s so giving. You want to return the favour. Even if it’s small. Even if it’s just you paying for some of the groceries or a bill or giving her a few bucks. If you don’t try this time, you won’t be able to forget. You’ll always know that you are the reason you came up short. 

You unlock your phone and key in the number. You drop it and let the paper fall too as you stand. You pace around in circles until you’re dizzy. You hate making phone calls. The sound of your own voice is grating. Ugh.  

No, you have to do it. You can do this. It’s one phone call. What if that’s the job? What if you’re answering a phone? Get over yourself. Grow up! 

You pick up your phone and hit call. Your chest locks up. You can’t breathe. Oh god. If you can’t breathe you can’t speak. You hang up and squeak. Frig. No, don’t give up. 

You try again. This time, you force out an exhale and shakily hold the phone to your ear. There’s an answer after two rings. 

“Barnes,” a voice declares from the other end. 

“Erm, oh, Bucky? It’s... me,” you stutter out, giving your name as you realise he won’t recognise your voice. 

“Ah, hi, doll, give me a moment, one sec,” he says and you hear a scuffing on the other end and a muffled ‘excuse me’. His movement rustles and he clears his throat directly into the speaker, “there we are, doll, all yours. How are you?” 

“Uh, alright, I’m fine, er, oh... you?” You close your eyes, Just melt into a puddle and absorb into the carpet.  

“Doing great now, hearing from you,” he purrs, “I’m very happy you called.” 

“Mhm, well...” you put your hand to your neck. Your skin is burning. “I... was calling about the job. In the note.” 

“Of course, doll, so you’re interested?” 

Desperate, but you won’t tell him that. “Yes, please, I mean--” you cringe. You’re not ordering ice cream, “would... what would be... would there be an interview?” 

“Sure, doll,” he says. His tone is light and airy. Is he making fun of you or are you just self-conscious? Both, probably. “How about you come by the casino tomorrow at noon? Does that work for you?” 

“Yeah, uh, whenever,” you agree, “I can get a ride.” 

“Sounds like a plan. Can’t wait,” he coos. 

“Right, uh, okay, yeah, I’ll see you,” you babble dumbly. 

“Mm, yeah, see ya then, doll,” he intones. 

“Yep, er, bye.” 

“Bye--” 

You hang up in a half-panic. You did it. You made the call and you got an interview. You think. The conversation wasn’t what you expected but you think it went well.  

You blow out through your lips and grip your phone tight. Your heart hammers again. You march to the door and stop just before you can grip the knob. You’re excited but scared to tell your mom. 

You swing the door open and clammer through. You hear her in the kitchen doing dishes. It’s Roxie turn so of course your sister is sitting on the couch nursing another coffee. 

“Mom,” you slow and tap your phone against your leg as you stop by the counter, “I... I got an interview.” 

“An interview?” Her surprise is genuine, both in her expression and her voice as she looks at you. Her face blooms in a smile. “That’s wonderful. When?” 

“Tomorrow,” you utter. 

“Tomorrow?” She echoes. 

“At noon.” 

“Noon, okay, I can come home from work and drive you, but you’ll have to get a cab home. I should have enough for the fare.” 

“Ah, yeah, okay,” you clutch your phone in front of you and sway, “thanks.” 

“No problem,” she chimes, “where is it?” 

“What?” 

“The interview.” 

“Oh, at the casino.” 

“The casino?” She turns back to the sink and stares into the water as she scrubs, “hm, interesting. What will you be doing?” 

“Hm, I... don’t know yet. Maybe a cleaner.” 

“Oh, that’s not bad at all,” she says, “think I have a shirt you can wear. Maybe I could hem a pair of my pants for you tonight.” 

“Mom, you don’t have to--” 

“You should look nice,” she undercuts, “it’s not a big deal. Besides, it would be really good if you got a job.” 

You nod. You can hear the thinness in her voice. She tries to hide it but you know it’s not easy around here. You saw the red notice in the mail box and heard her on the phone with the landlord. The bough is close to breaking. 

“Thanks, I’ll... I’ll do my best.” 

“I know you will,” she trills. 

You smile and go back to your room. You shut the door and shudder. Great, now you’ve hurdled over the phone call, you can dread what comes next. Not just venturing out into the general public but going to an interview. It’s one thing after another. It feels like a lot after so long of nothing. 

🃏

Your mom lets you out in Lot 4. It’s far from the main entrance but she’s in a hurry to get back to work. You won’t keep her. You can walk a bit. 

The sun has you sweating along with the polyester trousers. The belt is pinned and the legs have been hastily hemmed. The blouse doesn’t breathe either but you managed to iron the wrinkle out of the sleeve. 

You come to the front doors and steel yourself. Your mascara sticks as you feel the perspiration around your eyes. Oof. You did your best to follow the tutorial with your sister's borrowed makeup but you skipped the eye liner; it only ever turns out smudgy. 

You enter and the air conditioning cools the heat in your cheeks and chest. The woman behind the counter greets you with a smile and a ‘how are you’ before asking if you’re checking in. You’re almost speechless at the sight of her. She’s so pretty and she can do the contour the way those girls on Youtube do. You wouldn’t be good for that job; not gorgeous like her. 

“Um, yeah, actually, I’m here for an interview,” you say. 

“An interview?” She tilts her head, “I didn’t see anything...” she clicks around with the slim mouse on the desk, “who were you interviewing with?” 

“Bucky, uh, Mr. Barnes,” you say. “Well, I spoke with him. Maybe I’m supposed to talk to someone else?” 

She says your name and glances from the screen to you. You nod, “yeah?” 

“Right, okay, I see,” she keeps her shining smile, “Mr. Barnes has a car waiting for you.” 

“A car?” Your brows pop up. “Alright.” 

“If you just want to head back out, it should be waiting there. You’ll see Merv, he has white hair.” 

“Okay, thanks,” you reply then gulp as you turn around. 

You turn slowly and go back to the doors. What is going on? He said to meet him here but he isn’t here? He would be a busy man. You just hope you don’t blow it. 

You pull the doors open and come down the shallow steps. A man with white hair stands by a dark car. One more mountain to climb. 

“Uh, hello, are you... Merv?” 

“That’s me, miss,” he stands straight, “you must be the lady.” 

“I... guess.” 

“Come on then,” he turns and opens the door, “Mr. Barnes doesn’t like to wait.” 

“Okay, sorry,” you step off the curb and climb into the car.  

The door shuts and you buckle up. At least the interior is cool. You snap the belt into place as Merv gets in the front. He rests a hand on the wheel and points with the other. 

“You want this up or down?” He points to the barrier between the front and back. 

“Oh, I don’t... whatever you like,” you shrug. 

He chuckles, “miss, you’re a lot sweeter than the other ones.” 

Other ones? Of course there would be other candidates. You wonder if this is a test. If maybe Merv is going to tell Bucky that you’re too quiet. 

“Do you like Springsteen?” He asks as he slowly pulls out. 

“Don’t mind him,” you answer. Honestly, you don’t really know any of his music.  

Merv flips on the stereo, “I like you even more.” 

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #casino au #mcu #marvel #all in #series #captain america #winter soldier

[a-hermit-pining]

Sukuna as a House Husband

Genre: Fluff Pairing: House husband Sukuna x Reader AN: Might be OOC but humor me people. Coming up Geto as househusband 🥰

First few months of Sukuna's career as a househusband are nothing less than accidents that involved smoke alarms and questionable fire extinguisher techniques. The transition from malevolent kitchen to a less lethal one takes quite a minute.

From handing you Lunchables to becoming pinterest core this man takes quite a journey.

Everyday chores that start with ill concealed annoyance and were in the past pointedly pushed on to you are taken over the minute he notices the residues of shared lunch from another in your lunchbox.

How dare you accept someone else's food? The entire evening, Sukuna glared at the takeout pizza with enough intensity to melt the cheese. You swear the pepperoni visibly cowered under his icy gaze.

And the revelation that some random Joe- Shmoe, a pathetic nameless mortal, had lent you his lunch is enough incentive for this man get in action.

This old man has lived his share of luxury as the king of curses. So, the minute he decides to flex his culinary skills your lunches take an immediate promotion.

The obsolete cooking technique no one can replicate...? You bet he's pulling that.

Puts Uraume on the speed dial as the trials of kitchen begin for him. This time, though much to both their disappointment limited to animal meat.

Does not take long before both become grocery shopping buddies for life. Sukuna scowling at unfamiliar vegetables while Uraume patiently explains the difference between shallots and scallions to his Lord.

Weekends take a turn for the… interesting as you become their resident TikTok handler, phone propped precariously on the counter while they attempt to recreate the latest viral trends. Fruit Roll ice cream remains mind blowingly top tier in your household. Getting a reaction even from Uraume.

Sukuna preens under the praise at office potlucks, basking in the envious stares directed at your lunchbox. Every "wow" and "that looks amazing" fuels his ego.

But the real win? Insanely proud when he sees you take pictures of the lunches he makes and even more so when you show him the stories you post on the internet (save his old soul).

Deep into his retirement phase of immortality, Sukuna discovers the joy of aesthetic. This man takes one look at dark academia, gothic Victorian mood boards and not your living room looks like a lair worthy of a final boss villain (which, to be fair, it kind of already was)..

Super into thrifting or picking a random haunted piece of furniture to add character to your living space as he insists, despite your very real concerns about the wailing coming from the armchair at 3 am.

Still a baddie tho. Will get into fights with loud neighbors or bachelor pad finance bros when their trash isn't sorted properly. And it, unfortunately is your responsibility to drag this man back home.

Cleaning is where he draws the line. You will not spot Sukuna with a duster. Ever. So, hiring a cleaning service seemed like a brilliant solution. Except, Sukuna couldn't resist micromanaging their every move. The poor cleaning staff — a battle-hardened group of professionals — withered under his endless critiques on porcelain dusting techniques. Needless to say, generous tips were the only reason they continued to show up.

The King of Curses, a being who once feasted in halls of obsidian and dined on delicacies fit for gods. Yet, the peace and ownership of your little townhouse is sweeter than any other possession of past. His dirty little heart is endeared to his home with you.

#jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x reader #fluff #househusband au #ryomen sukuna

[multifandomsw]

Apologies 7

Harry Styles x Reader

summary: After an encounter with your old best friend, she gave you her number to catch up. When you decide to send her a message, someone else replies. Was it destiny?

warnings: angst, fluff

author’s note: It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’m so happy to be back! I wrote this within a few hours. It was quite hard to write, but I hope you’ll enjoy this! I feel like you’ll either like it or hate it…especially the end

Part 7

Harry took yet another look at his phone and sighed when he saw that half an hour had already passed.

Lucy was late again.

Normally Harry wouldn’t truly care about that fact. He’d just pull out his phone and look at some instagram stories.

This time though, he needed to talk to Lucy. Desperately needed to talk to Lucy.

Because of you.

God, he couldn’t take you off of his mind. He hadn’t been able to take you off of his mind ever since he got to know you, but now it was worse.

The thought of you was the only thing that consumed his mind.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face in front of him. And every time he saw it, he was reminded that you were truly the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on. And he was sure that no matter how many more new people he would see during his life, it would stay this way.

After feeling your warm touch on his skin yesterday, Harry wasn’t sure if he could continue living without it. He craved feeling you this close to him again.

“Harry.”, someone interrupted and when he looked up and saw Lucy, Harry felt relieved. Because as much as he loved thinking about you, he was going insane.

“Hi.”, he breathed out and took her in. She still wore the same outfit she had worn yesterday, her make-up was smudged and her hair was a mess. Nevertheless, Lucy wore a smile on her face.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Oskar wouldn’t let me go.”, she giggled and sat down on the seat opposite from Harry.

Harry only raised his eyebrows. “Oskar, huh?”

Lucy blushed. “He’s actually really nice. He even made some breakfast.”, Lucy giggled and took a sip from the coffee Harry had ordered. “Ew, it’s cold.”

Harry only rolled his eyes. “Because you’re late.”, he sighed. “Have you checked on her? Is she fine?”, he needed to know.

Lucy simply sighed. “She is. She only has a headache.”, she began, but hesitated before continuing. “What?”, Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

“She doesn’t remember anything from yesterday. She thinks it was a dream.”, Lucy admitted.

Honestly, Harry didn’t know if he should feel relieved or disappointed. He was glad that you didn’t find out yet, glad that he could just be himself for a little while longer. But after yesterday, he realized that texting you was not enough for him. He wanted to see your radiant smile every day, he wanted to hear your voice every day, wanted to fall asleep with you in his arms every day.

“Oh.”, he whispered defeatedly.

“Harry-“, Lucy started, but Harry interrupted her quickly. “You said she went to the club to forget about her troubles, right? What’s troubling her? She barely tells me stuff like that anymore and I- I feel like she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, but then yesterday she told me she liked me and I-“, his voice cracked. “I just don’t know what to think anymore.”, he continued in a whisper.

“She hated the attention she’s getting, Harry. You know that the interaction you had with her in Munich is all over the internet. It went even that far that a fan of yours approached her when we were in a café. And-“, Lucy began, but stopped talking, debating whether she should even tell Harry about that.

“And what, Lucy?”, he desperately wanted to know.

“I don’t know if you know everything about what happened with her old best friend at your concert.”, she began and Harry shook her head. “No, not everything.”

“Well- her old best friend approached her with her boyfriend and told her that no one would ever like her and that you only talked to her because you pitied her-“

Harry’s heart quite literally stopped. “What the fuck? She doesn’t believe that, does she?”

“She kind of does.”, Lucy sighed. “But Harry, she told me that she liked you. It’s obvious how much.”

“She likes H.”, he reminded Lucy and seeing the sad look in his eyes hurt Lucy too.

“But that’s you, that’s the real you. Don’t you see? You like each other. It’s time to tell her the truth, Harry. Better now than too late.”, Lucy argued, but stopped when she saw one tear rolling down Harry’s cheek.

It felt like someone was stabbing a knife into Harry’s heart, slowly and painfully. Guilt washed over his whole body because he realized that he was the reason for your troubles. His concert was the reason for all your troubles. He was so focused on blaming himself, that he forgot to acknowledge the fact that you said that you liked him. You liked him.

Harry desperately tried wiping his tears away, but they just wouldn’t stop flowing out of his eyes. “I’m sorry.”, he managed to get out and Lucy knew it was not directed to her.

“H.”, Lucy tried to console him and he was almost disgusted when she said it. After you had called him H yesterday, he decided that he didn’t want anyone else calling him H ever again. It only sounded right when you had said it. “Harry.”, Lucy tried again and that’s when Harry stopped trying to wipe the tears away.

They were falling freely now.

“What’s wrong, Harry?”, she sincerely wanted to know.

Harry gulped hard. “It’s my fault. Everything’s my fault. It all happened during my concert. She’s struggling because of me.”, his voice cracked at the end.

“No, no. You’re not going to blame yourself now.”, Lucy instructed. “It was not your fault and you know it. You know what she told me? That she’s a thousand times happier ever since she got to know you. You gave her hope. You managed to make her believe that she might actually be good enough.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “She said that?”

“Yes! Harry, she truly likes you. I know I shouldn’t get involved, but you should tell her who you are eventually. She’s happy and Harry, you are happy too. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve never liked someone as much as you like her. She’s the only person you talk about lately.”

Of course Lucy was right. She always was. And somehow, Lucy had managed to give Harry a bit of hope back. “Do you think you could convince her to go to one of my Wembley shows? It would mean the world to me.”

-

His eyes were piercing green. They reminded you of a forest in summer, of springtime grass. His eyes reminded you of life.

They were so breathtakingly beautiful that you didn't look away from them even when he said your name so softly.

But as much as you loved his eyes, your eyes trailed down to his soft and full rosy lips. Only one thought consumed your whole mind: what would it be like to just lean in and kiss him?

You imagined the soft feeling of his lips moving against yours. You thought of how they would taste, like sweet honey, like a summer night, like him.

You whispered his name back just as softly and dragged your eyes back to his. You noticed that his pupils were dilated and wondered for a second if yours were too.

He placed his hand against your cheek, slowly caressing it with his thumb as he stepped closer to you.

He was so close now that you could feel his breath softly tickle your skin and you knew if you looked down, his lips would only be centimeters away from yours.

"Can I kiss you?", he asked, leaning closer but never closing the gap. Not before you would give him permission, you figured.

You parted your lips, letting out a shaky breath."Yes.", you managed to answer and he wasted no time as he leaned closer to you-

Before he pulled back and let out an evil chuckle.

”Green eyes can't be trusted.", he smirked and let go of you.

-

Lucy practically stormed into your room and woke you up in the process. “You won’t believe what happened.”, she let out excitedly and you simply groaned.

You groaned because she had woken you up and because you had dreamed about him again.

Again, because you had dreamt about H yesterday, too.

“Leave me alone.”, you grumbled and closed your eyes again, but Lucy didn’t care. “I won tickets for one of Harry’s Wembley shows.”, she let out excitedly and it took a moment for you to process this information.

“What?”, you sat up and looked at her in disbelief. “And they’re VIP tickets, too!”

“That’s- that’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“You’ll come with me.”, she decided and your eyes widened. “No, no.”, you whispered. “Lucy, you know what happened during my last concert.”

She quietly said your name. “We have VIP tickets, which means there are no fans nearby. No one can disturb you.”

“But they can still take pictures of me and start speculations.”, you argued, crossing your arms.

“And? It’s fucking Harry Styles, who cares if the world thinks you’re dating. They’re just jealous.”

“Lucy.”, you started, sighing. “You know I-“

“Please.”, she practically begged you. “I don’t want to go alone, I won’t go alone. And I have no one else to go with.”

The tickets would go to waste if you didn’t go with Lucy. And as much as you hated the idea of going, you decided that you should slowly overcome your doubts and fear. “Okay?”, you answered unsure.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”, you whispered and hid your face in the T-shirt you were wearing. Lucy had told you that it was hers and that she had helped you change when you came home from the club. You believed her of course, but the shirt didn’t smell like Lucy at all. It smelled like a forest in spring after it had just rained, like fresh flowers and grass.

It smelled like home.

-

You and H had never stopped texting each other, but you had stopped talking to him about some things.

Not intentionally, no, but you slowly started to believe that H was getting tired of you too.

Which was anything but true. When you told H about it, he was determined to show you how much he truly cared for you.

H: Listen to “All I Want” by Kodaline.

You: Oh?

H: It reminds me of you

You: Stop it you know I’m blushing

H: I just want to show you how much I care about you

You: I might care about you too

H: Oh, you might?

You: Well, you could still be old

H: I hate you

You: You know you love me

H: Yeah I do

H: Do you know what you’ll wear to the concert tomorrow?

You: Just something simple. Probably a cute top and some oversized pants

H: I really want you to go, but are you 100% sure that you’ll be okay?

You: I think I’ll be

H: You think?

You: No, I know. He’s one of my favorite singers and I’m really excited about the concert now that I’m thinking about it

You: Who cares if people think we’re dating? I mean who wouldn’t want to date Harry Styles?

H: I’m glad

H: You’d make a great couple

You: Oh shut up

-

"Uhm-, Harry began, but looked down at his hands to think about his next words very carefully. It was Jeff after all and Jeff hated spontaneous decisions. He was likely going to tell Harry how he would regret it and how impulsive he had been, but deep down, Harry knew he wouldn't regret it, would never regret it.

"How have you been?", Harry changed the question quickly and Jeff only raised his eyebrows.

"We saw each other yesterday."

Harry bit his lip in order not to let out a laugh. It was stupid to be afraid to tell him, but Harry cared about Jeff's opinions.

"Just say whatever you want to say, it can't be that bad.", Jeff nudged Harry's arm and now

Harry truly let out a laugh.

"It might be that bad.", Harry chuckled. "Okay, but you can't say that it was an impulsive decision before hearing me out."

Jeff scrunched his face in confusion. "Did you get nipple piercings?"

"What?"

"Please tell me you didn't get a genital piercing.”Jeff looked Harry deep into his eyes, concern written all over his face.

Harry could only let ihr a hysterical laugh. "You're absolutely crazy, of course I didn't get a genital piercing!"

Jeff let out a breath of relief. "You scared me for a second, boy"

Harry could only roll his eyes in response. "Okay. I got a new tattoo."

"You always get new tattoos, it's nothing new."

"Okay, but this one might be.", Harry let out and just shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just going to show you.", he said while taking his shirt off.

Jeff's eyes searched for the tattoo for a second, but his eyes widened when he saw the new tattoo on his collar bone.

"Please tell me this is a joke."

"Nope."

"Are you out of your mind?", he asked as he stared at the Cherry tattoo on his chest. Spelled out.

"See, I knew you were gonna react like this."

"She doesn't even know who you are!", Jeff argued. "This will last forever Harry. You're not even-“, Jeff interrupted himself before he took a deep breath.

“I’ve never felt that way about someone before.”, Harry admitted with a small smile on his face and when Jeff looked in his eyes he saw not an ounce of doubt.

Jeff sighed. “When will you tell her?”

Harry’s smile instantly dropped. “Soon.”

“This won’t end well if you fail to tell her the truth Harry.”

“I know.”, he whispered back. “I want to tell her, I just don’t know how.”

“She’ll be here today, right?”, Jeff questioned. “Yes.”

“Then tell her today.”

“No, no, I couldn’t.”, Harry stammered.

Jeff only gave him a stern look. “You should do it, and you know it. Now go change into your outfit.”

-

To say you were late was an understatement. Lucy’s car had broken down in the middle of the road. You had even suggested to just go back home, but Lucy had insisted on taking a taxi to the concert after you had waited over an hour for someone to take Lucy’s car away.

When you entered the VIP tent, Harry Styles was already singing Sign of the Times and you realized that you had missed almost all of the songs.

Still, when you saw him on the stage, you were once again absolutely mesmerized. He looked gorgeous. From the rosy cheeks, to his full lips and sparkling eyes. You could see his dimples when he smiled at a fan and almost lost it.

Hearing Sign of the Times live for the very first time was probably one of the most beautiful things you had ever experienced. Sometimes you forgot how good Harry Styles could truly sing.

“I’m sorry that we arrived so late.”, Lucy apologized and pulled you out of your trance. “Nonsense. We’re here now.”, you looked around the tent, not seeing anyone familiar until your eyes landed on Anne and Gemma not far away from you. Anne was waving at Harry and Gemma was swaying from side to side.

They were standing so closely to you, you could just take a few steps towards them and talk to them.

Which you, of course, wouldn’t do. But you could.

-

“She’s not coming, is she?”, Harry whispered to himself after Sign of the Times ended. He had long given the hope up and it hurt him to look into the direction of the VIP tent and not see you standing there, beaming up at him.

Still, he couldn’t help himself and spared the VIP tent one last glance and caught-

Your eyes.

He just stared at you for a few seconds. At your toothy smile, at your adorable hairstyle, at your rosy cheeks. He had only seen you a few days ago, but still: his heart quite literally stilled in his chest.

He didn’t think you would show up.

Harry let out a chuckle and ducked his head for a second, trying not to get too distracted. “Hi.”, he mouthed and blew you a small kiss.

He knew he shouldn’t talk to you. Not after all the hate you got after the last concert. Still, it pained him not being able to talk to you.

Seeing the blush form on your cheeks, though, was more than enough to satisfy him.

“I think we all feel a little unloved sometimes.”, Harry began addressing the crowd. “Some more than others. I’m sure that every single one of you has thought about not being good enough at least once in your lives. Including me. You probably have felt unloved, unwanted and left out on more than one occasion.”, Harry began and the crowd roared.

“I know this girl.”, Harry began and one girl in the crowd made an ‘uhhh’ sound.

Harry chuckled, those beautiful dimples of his showing. He spared you a glance and saw that you were listening intensely. “And this girl thinks all of these things every single day. Over and over again.”

“And you know what? She’s none of these things. She is loved, she is wanted, she is more than fucking good enough. She’s everything.”, Harry had to fight every urge not to look at you right now, because he was sure he would beging to cry instantly.

“She doesn’t know that yet. I hope she’ll know this and realize this one day. She doesn’t even know that I’m talking about her right now. But I want her to know that I’ll always wait for her. Until the end of the time. This song I wrote reminds me quite a lot of her. This is Little Freak.”, Harry ended his speech and began singing.

You never saw my birthmark.

Harry knew, with every fiber in his being, that all of his following songs would be about you. Every single song he had begun writing since he had known you was about you.

-

“This song wasn’t on the set list! It’s one of my favorites.”, you told Lucy who was grinning at you. “It sure is. Do you know how many-“, Lucy stopped talking suddenly and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before you turned around and saw someone approaching you-

Anne and Gemma were approaching you.

“What?”, you whispered to yourself when Gemma hugged Lucy. “I’m glad you could make it!”, Gemma grinned and stepped back so that Anne could give Lucy a hug.

How did she know them? Did they confuse Lucy with someone else? “I heard your car broke down.”, Anne said worriedly and now you were sure that they weren’t confusing her for someone else.

“Yes, but we just took the taxi.”, Lucy answered and introduced Anne and Gemma to you. Anne went to hug you quickly and grinned at you. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You have?”, you questioned. “Uh- yes, Lucy told us quite a bit.”

“How do you-“, you began, your mind still not comprehending that you were talking to Anne and Gemma. “How do you know each other?”

Lucy bit her lip. “Anne is my mom’s best friend.”, Lucy explained. You couldn’t believe it. Why had she never told you about that? Surely, she couldn’t have just forgotten. “Oh. You never told me about that.”

Lucy just shrugged her shoulders. “I must have forgotten to.”, she answered and turned back to Anne. Why would she forget something like that? Hadn’t she said that she was a Harry Styles fan?

“Do you like London, dear?”, Anne questioned. “Oh, yes, uhm- it’s very beautiful here.”, you stammered and Anne smiled warmly at you. “Have you seen much of the city already?

“Well- parts of it. But I still have much to see, I suppose.”

Anne nodded. “Oh yes, I’m sure Harry will show you around sometime.”, Anne began and you saw as horror washed over Gemma’s face.

Harry? Why would Harry Styles show you around? Surely, they haven’t seen the rumors on the internet? They wouldn’t say anything about it, because Harry Styles would tell them that they weren’t real-

So why did they bring up Harry?

“Harry?”, you questioned and watched Anne’s eyes widen with fear, too. “Lucy. Lucy will show you around.”

Your mouth parted as you moved your eyes to the stage, where Harry had just finished his song and was looking at you. You looked from him to Gemma and back.

Surely Harry wasn’t-

No, no, that didn’t make any sense-

H lived in London. H was working in the music industry. H had his own concerts. H traveled a lot with his band. H didn’t tell you his real name or name of his band. H was a singer. H was a songeriter. H knew Taylor Swift. H was single because his schedule was too tight for love.

H is short for Harry.

Harry fucking Styles.

You felt the tears rush to your eyes as you stared at Harry Styles. He stared back at you as if waiting for you to say something. You bit your lip as you shook your head frequently, looking at him with utter disappointment. He had failed to tell you the truth.

No, no this could not be real, but as you turned around and ran away, you heard Harry Styles calling out after you, which made it all real.

“Cherry, wait.”

taglist: @st-ev-ie @hsstylesrings @bubblespower101 @ravisinghs-wife @mopeymousey @shishcabobsworld @stylesfever @valntynebaby @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @harryspirate @xxlunathewitchxx @hannah9921 @fingermonkey101 @amateurduck @babyiamperfectforyou @ravisinghs-wife @creativelyeva @fanficismydrug @manrocket-mo @crimeshowjunkie @lomlolivia @pagesfalling @harryssky1 @buckybarnessimpp @melancholy-help @annesauriol @tea-and-toast463 @sheslikeacurse @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @white-wolf-buckaroo @itsgigikay @cherrystyle @be-with-me-so-happily

#harry styles angst #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction

[sonnetsoncanvas]

Mess it up : pt 4

Summary: Years ago he had let you go for your own good. But this time, he isn’t sure he can

Part of the Mess it up series

Pairing: brother’s best friend rock star Bucky x fem reader (Steve’s sister) (dual pov)

Warnings: MINORS DNI, SMUT AHEAD, masturbation (M & F), fingering, vibrator, overstimulation, bondage, choking kink, possessive bucky.

Inspired by: Mess it up by Gracie Abrams

Notes: This is the first time a fic has made its way from my laptop to the internet. So please be kind and do leave your feedback. Happy reading!

We could make it better, breaking every habit.

Bucky POV

“You like that, don’t ya baby?” Bucky grunted in your ear; his voice unrecognisable to his own. You moaned loudly, the melody of that beautiful sound echoing through his apartment.

“Bucky…baby…please, pleaaaase…..oh my god.” You blabbered. Bucky was sure you had lost control of your mind. He had never seen you this vulnerable, this submissive. You had trusted him enough to take down all your defence and give yourself to him, a fact that warmed his soul even in through his lust filled haze.

He shifted his focus on your swollen clit, wet and slippery after being thoroughly abused for hours by his mouth and the little pink vibrator he had bought for the very purpose of turning you into the mess you are right now. He kept his fingers curled inside you to reach that one spot that made you squeal and kept on moving it achingly slow, just enough to keep you within the reach of your release, but not quite much to give it to you.

He was, after all, punishing you.

“Where’s that smart mouth now, huh, doll?” he mocked, his eyes sweeping over your stunningly ruined form, his mind not believing it was him who had done this to you.

“bucky please…. Sorry..aaah…..please I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You chanted it like a mantra to placate your man, to convince him to give you what you so desperately need. You arched your back, tugging on your tied hands, beckoning him to kiss you.

“I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet, pretty baby. I think you need to be reminded who owns this perfect pussy, no? I’m the only one who could make a mess out of you. the only one who can see you this way. But here you are, going around, giving people the impression that they can be in my place, giving you everything you want.” He bent down to lick the sweat off your neck, sucking another bruise to the already marked area, still angered by the way boys were ogling your ass at the afterparty today. He knew that you were fair game to them, considering that your relationship with him was a well-guarded secret. Still his heart burned with envy when they hit on you openly, in a way he never can.

And you, the minx you were, flirted back with them, knowing how this would mess with him. He had almost stalked to the boy, shoving him into his place (which was away from you, obviously). Thank God for Steve, who had glared on the boy enough to melt him to the ground. You, however, had simply smirked at Bucky, daring him to claim you.

And here he was, claiming every inch of you. kissing, sucking, marking it.

You mewled prettily, wriggling your hips to get some friction, making bucky chuckle. He gave in then, increasing the pressure on the vibrator, finger fucking you faster until you gave out a prolonged moan, your pussy fluttering and squirting, soaking him. And God above, he knew that this must be what heaven would be like.

“My sweet, sweet girl, did so good for me.” He murmured reverently as he untied your wrists and kissed the red marks. “My best girl, my girl, my doll.”

“FUUUUUUCCCK” Bucky growled, leaning all his weight on his metal arm, his flesh one jerking his dick roughly. A couple of more strokes and he came violently, his release smeared all over his  hand and the bathroom floor, before flowing down the drain.

He sighed, disappointed and dissatisfied. Jerking himself off, as surprisingly common as that was for him, was never enough. He was always left feeling empty inside, no matter how much he tried.

It was to rid himself of this emptiness he had been with other women, trying them on as clothes to see if they could fit the void of your absence. It was wrong of him to do that, he knew it. But all of those hook ups were just that, transactional sexual encounters where they traded orgasms and went home.

He could not classify them as relationships, even if the media or his friends seemed to refer them that way. Where was the emotional connect, the understanding, the long conversations, the longing. Bucky never felt an iota of what he felt with you with anyone else, a fact that had frustrated him initially. Now, it was just a fact he had accepted resignedly, that he would never fall in love with anyone the way he fell for you.

He was toxic bastard. Unfair to all those women who tried their best to live with his brooding ass. He had apologised to them much later, telling them how sorry he was for his emotional unavailability. Some forgave him, some still hated him.

Ultimately, he circled back to this, taking care of himself while thinking of you. this was what he’d done for all the time he was apart from you, nevertheless who was in his bed or if he was alone. He simply reminisced of the times you were together or imagining what he’d do to you if you were there with him. And great heavens, there were so many filthy, debauched things he would do to you, if only he could.

Your reappearance in his life had spurred him on in a bizarre way. It was like he was a teenager again, constantly horny. But it wasn’t even horniness that was driving bucky crazy. It was a strange longing for intimacy, to be intimate with you. to touch, taste and smell you.

Two days ago, he had almost gotten that. Bucky hadn’t meant to cross any of the unspoken boundaries set by you, but the moment he sensed you in peril his primal intuition to protect you had taken over, pulling you towards him.

that singular moment brought him more peace than anything had in the past five years. Everything just felt…right.

It felt wrong, how right this situation felt. His heart had grown so used to the cold, that warmth the seeped through you felt foreign, alien. And he’d jerked back, ending what was the best thing to happen to him in oh so long.

Trust bucky to mess it up.

He cleaned himself up and dressed, pulling on a pair of grey sweatpants that used to make your beautiful eyes wide. He smiled at the memory, walking out in the living room where he sensed you. it was natural to him, his heart finding where you are before your eyes could even locate you. you were sitting next to Steve, having an intense conversation from the sound of it. As he entered the kitchen, Steve hollered “Hey Buck! Y/n accidentally made some extra French toasts. They’re by the stove”

His heart stumbled a bit. He immediately refused to believe that you made a calculation mistake. You who had been cooking since you could reach the countertop, you who hated wastage of any kind and was so cautious of every spoonful. You did not ‘accidentally’ cook something.

Maybe you had noticed his feeble attempts at cooking. Maybe you still remembered he loved your French toasts. Maybe he should shut up and just eat.

He grabbed a plate and sat on the couch opposite to you guys, paying close attention to the topic of conversation. Turns out it was Steve convincing you to live with him.

“Steve I am not going to live with you and your girlfriend if I get the job. I am literally twenty four!” exasperation was evident in your voice, which bucky picked on. Your brother however, did not.

“Fine. At least get a place nearby. How about in our building? I’m very sure the apartment downstairs is empty ever since that emo guy moved out….”

You only chuckled at your brother’s naivete. He had to be doing this on purpose, no one is that dumb. “There is no way in hell I’m going to be able to afford living in this neighbourhood on an associate’s salary! Not all of us get a million dollars at our first gig!” you were trying very hard to retain your composure, but your body was betraying your annoyance.

Bucky had never butted between the two of you before. But this time he felt it was his responsibility to knock some sense into his foolhardy best friend.

“Steve, man, she’s a person in her own right. She has proved over and over again how capable she is of living on her own. I don’t think its right to be dictating your terms like that. If she needs help figuring stuff out, I’m sure she knows she can come to us anytime.”

The minute he said that, bucky’s entire body tensed with feeling of your eyes on him. You had looked in his general direction since he sat down, but now you were looking directly at him. His face warmed with awareness.

Steve was apparently pacified , his arguments reduced to a disgruntled grumble as he collected the plates and ambled towards the kitchen. And bucky was now alone with you in the room.

You turned your head and looked into his eyes “thank you for taking my side. I didn’t need you to, but I guess he needed to hear that from someone that wasn’t me.”

It was like the speech function of his brain stopped working. Say something damnit

“it was nothing. He’s missed you that’s all.”

“And I’ve missed him, but this is bordering on overbearing.”

“Steve had always been overbearing when it came to you, don’t you remember what happened when that emo boy hit on you?”

And that’s how the first real conversation between the two of you in the past five years began, ranting about Steve’s occasional misdemeanours. Which in turn started a conversation about your interviews (which he was elated to hear went great), which in turn started a conversation about his last tour and next album’s preparations.

 Before he knew it you were both laying the past four years bare in front of each other. And bucky felt like he could finally breathe again.      

You bath talked for what felt like an hour but was in reality three, only to be separated when sam dropped by to drag him to gym. He’d bid goodbye to you with a smile, and what made him giddy was that you smiled back too.

That day bucky did an extra hour workout, just because it felt like his heart was pumping extra blood in his veins in jubilation. He also wanted to replay every bit of the conversation in his head before it faded away.

Afterwards, as he ambled to his car with aching feet and burning lungs, all he could think was, “I can spend the rest of my life like this.”

Reader’s POV

As Bucky got up and left for gym, glaring at Sam as if he had snatched his favourite toy from him, he’d taken a moment to smile down at you

And it paralysed you. completely halted time. And turned it back to five years ago, when you had seen it for the first time.

Out of sheer courtesy you’d smiled back at him, you told yourself. That your smile had got nothing to do with fact that you genuinely enjoyed talking to him.

That you never wanted to stop talking to him.

you walked to the washroom to do your night time routine with a strange sense of relief, the sort you hadn’t felt for years.

“good.” You told your reflection in the mirror with toothbrush in your mouth, “now we can be amicable acquaintances rather than awkward exes. Makes things easier for me.”

“I mean now I have nothing holding me back from accepting the New York offer, right?” you debated with no one with particular as you disrobed for shower.

But as soon as the first spray of hot water hit you face, all your inhibitions melted to something primal. You closed your eyes and the highlights of the conversation played out in your head in slow motion.

His unfiltered smiles. His compassionate eyes. His long silken locks. His veined, tattooed arms. His long, ringed fingers

Damn his long, ringed fingers.

They had been your undoing long back, just like they were now.

Your own fingers travelled down your body to the one place that was aching for that blue eyed adonis.

It had frustrated you for so long that your brain will only ever conjure up Bucky’s image whenever you tried to masturbate. No matter how hard you tried, it was always him. His fingers, his tongue, his cock. You tried listening to erotic audios, reading the filthiest eroticas, watching porn, but no avail. You blamed it on the fact that your body had only known his touch. You never allowed yourself to become physically involved with anyone after him, and there was no one before him. It was and has always been just him.

But now your brain did not need any extra aid to make you imagine his fingers pressing on your clit and his other hand, preferably the metal one, caressing your breast, gently tugging and teasing your already hard nipples.

Soon his fingers would slowly probe your entrance, just circling it with his index until you begged him to enter your pussy. He had always been a jerk like that, making you beg, scream and squirm before giving you your sweet release.

With two fingers fucking your fluttering pussy, and his palm pressing on your sensitive clit, he would climb up and take you heavy breasts in his mouth, sucking them viciously, leaving his metal arm free to choke you just enough to make you delirious.

His rings would drag against your walls, his palms maintaining that insistent pressure on your clit, while he continued to whisper the obscenest things to you, the cool metal of his arm contrasting your overheated skin.

It wasn’t long before you clenched around your fingers as a shuddering orgasm washed over you. your eyes water and you sank down to the floor, panting, while warm water still poured down on you, washing away the evidence of your arousal.

Arousal that was the result of a mere conversation with this devastating man.

You were utterly and truly Fucked.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky headcanon #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #steve and bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barns #bucky fluff #fanfic #avengers fandom #bucky barnes smut #bucky #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan character

[hopelessrromantix]

content: no prep, live stream, lingerie, degradation, riding crop, no beta

“Welcome to the stream everyone, great to see you all,” Billy gave his chat a wave, reading over the messages.

RRSays: He said he’s doing something new today, right?

MasterofPuppets: Yup

Whxre4U: Can’t wait to see what you have planned!

He laughed at some of the comments, mostly about a ‘surprise’ he mentioned in his last stream. His fans were rather eager, the number of views slowly ticking up. Nothing had even happened yet and he was getting tips, most people talking about how excited they were.

“You fuckers are gonna love this one,” He smirked, gesturing slightly just out of the screen.

You stepped into frame, your head cut off by the camera. You weren’t one for showing your face, so you had a mask. Billy on the other hand loved the popularity. Besides, if anyone recognized him, it said more about them than it did him.

“This is my boyfriend, we’ll just call him Daddy.” The sly smirk covering his face told enough of a story. He always got a kick out of teasing his audience, watching the messages of jealousy and excitement pour in.

Anonymous: Oh shit, figures he’s hot

JQW456: Not really sure if id rather fuck him or be him

Anonymous: sad he has a bf, but at least we get a show!

Billy chuckled, looking up to you and letting you step in.

“I’m takin’ over things for today, I’ll gladly fill any requests you all have.” You brought your hand up to his hair, carting a few of your fingers through it. The chat went wild, messages flying past too fast for you to see. Most of the paid chats were asking you to fuck him, as if it wasn’t in your plans.

Naturally, you were supportive of Billy. After all, the entire internet wants your boyfriend and you’re the only person that gets him. Plus it earned plenty of money.

You’d been friends prior to him streaming. Eventually he asked for someone to help him with tech and monitoring the stream, and eventually, you started dating.

Actually being in front of the camera was a whole new ball game, but you were all for the idea. People watching and begging you to fuck your boyfriend sounded pretty good, honestly.

Billy placed a kiss on your cheek, given that the mask was obstructing your lips. He was disappointed when you started wearing it, but he understood.

He loved dressing up for his streams. He usually wore some kind of makeup and one of the many… unique outfits he’d acquired during his time streaming. For now, it was lingerie. The all black looked good on him. A bralette covered his chest, though it was nearly see through. His underwear was lace, barely concealing his hard, twitching cock. Lastly were thigh highs, clinging to his skin in a rather tempting way.

He sat on your bed, the camera set up at the end. He smirked into it as you moved closer, clad in only your boxers.

You gripped his chest, rolling a hard, pink nipple between two fingers. Billy groaned, already melting under your chest. He leaned back into you, back arching into your touch. You reached another hand down, palming his dick slowly. There was already a sticky spot forming on the lace and it only grew as he thrust up into your hand.

A ping sounded from a screen next to you, one of the bigger screens you had set up so Billy could see his paid requests.

HellRaiserG: Would love to see you spank him, crop maybe?

You smirked, though it likely wasn’t visible.

“I can work with a crop,” You assured me. You stepped away from Billy, relishing the whine he let out when you did so. You returned a second later, gripping a long black crop. “Hands and knees, baby.”

He nodded, moving to his hands and knees, facing the camera. He lowers himself to his elbows, ass up in the air and facing you. He wiggled back and forth slightly, smirking back at you.

The smirk was almost immediately wiped from his face when you smacked him across the ass, crop forming a bright red line across.

“Fuck!” He cursed, eyes screwed shut. Though the camera didn’t catch it, you saw how rapidly his lace underwear was moving.

You struck his again, landing a clean hit on his left cheek. You leaned down, watching his lingerie covered cock.

“You all should see him twitching,” You commented with a laugh, watching as the comments continued rolling in. Most were anonymous, with only some of his regulars constantly commenting.

Anonymous: Fuck, that’s hot

Anonymous: Of course he’s a dumb little masochist lol

Anonymous: I’d love to see him choked, imagine the face he’d make

You gave Billy several move strikes, painting his ass a beautiful red color. You were met with curses and moans. Each time he moved back into you, as if silently begging for another hit.

After a little while you put the crop down, looking over to the new paid messages.

HighSurferBoy: No lube or prep, bet the masochist would love it. Try and hold him up so we can see!!

You smiled at the comment.

“Looks like someone doesn’t want me to prep you,” you informed. “You’d probably enjoy it, getting stretched out by my cock.”

He moaned and nodded, ass still up. You were fortunately armed with the knowledge that Billy had most certainly fingered himself before this, he almost always did. But that didn’t mean no prep wouldn’t sting. Still, you knew he’d love it.

You didn’t bother taking off his panties, just lining yourself up and pushing in without warning. He was just opening his mouth to say something, but any hope of that was ruined the second he felt your tip on the rim of his hole.

“I thiiiiiiiin-- hnng, fuck!” The words died on his tongue, thoughts interrupted by the wonderful burn of your cock invading him. “Oh shiiitttt Daddy fuckin’ -- god, I’m gonna lose on your dick! Gonna fuck me stupid.”

You grabbed his hips, fully thrusting in, earning yourself a moan and an incoherent sentence.

“Not even a minute in and you’re a whining little bitch.”

You started fucking him almost immediately, barely giving any adjustment. His arms had completely given up their support, he was now laying down on the mattress, head pressed against it. He could see the chat rolling by but couldn’t even think about reading anything.

BxllysWhore: Pls lift him up!! Wanna see that lingerie. Plus some degrading, put that slut in his place!!!

Billy hadn’t even processed the notification’s sound, too caught up in grounding himself through your vicious thrusts.

Suddenly, he felt himself lifted, back pressed against your chest. His panties rubbed his cock in the most delicious way, creating enough friction to make him moan.

“You wanna be a good little cum dump? You better thank me for even fucking you.” His eyes rolled back as you hit a particularly good spot, head falling onto your shoulders. The idea that there was a camera on him was fading out, replaced by the feeling of your hips hitting his ass.

“If you wanna cum, you better make me cum in your tight ass first, got it?”

He nodded rapidly, his sentences of agreement were complete gibberish, though you knew what he was saying.

The chat spurred you on, fucking into to him just like he wanted you to.

“Fuck, Daddy please! Please let me cum, I’ll be your good little cum dump. You can cum in me as much as you want, please just let me cum!!” He begged you, his head too clouded to pay attention to the chat in front of him.

“What do you all think?” You asked, looking over his shoulders to read the chat. It seemed fairly divided, but eventually most people agreed to let him cum.

“Looks like you got lucky, bitch.” You brought his panties down slightly, just letting the tip of his dick poke over the line of lace. “You can cum, but don’t think you’re done.”

“Thankyouthankyouuuu.” He chanted, moaning louder when two of your fingers pinched his nipple. “Fuck that’s good, gonna be your little slut, okay? You can use me like a fucking hole, just cum up my ass, Daddy.”

His begging brought you closer than you’d like to admit, but you staved off your orgasm. Billy’s, however, came barreling at him like a freight train. His cock twitched violently, sending ropes of cum all over his stomach and panties.

“Fuuuckkkk,” He muttered under his breath, likely too quiet for the stream. “Thank you Daddy,”

He remembered to thank you just in time, knowing you’d likely be upset if he didn’t. Your thrusts had stopped, though he was still very aware of your large cock in his ass.

“Fucking whore,” You scoffed, ignoring his grateful pleas. “Don’t think you’re done yet.”

#letters to stranger things #x reader #dom male reader #top male reader #male reader #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove x male reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x top male reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x male reader smut #billy hargrove x dom male reader #stranger things smut #male reader smut #sub character

[ok-boke]

ok-boke's Recommendation Masterlist pt. 3

Okay, so, this is my third masterlist. And each masterlist has about 50 stories, so 100+ stories in total. All I'm saying is I might have a problem, but these authors deserve recognition for their amazing works of art. They deserve to be spread out to more people, even if there's only a small amount people that see this. These authors deserve the world ♥︎

Marvel

Miles Morales

Heart With Thorns by @jrrantss

It all started with a simple stare. just a stare. nothing noticeable nor alluring in the least. Yet it still caught your attention. The moment you confronted the pair of eyes that burned holes into your back, you knew your life would never be the same again.

❝ white lies ❞ by @berriweb

LINK UP by @qkopi

you loved your boyfriend miles, you really do. he was everything you could ask for; he was handsome, gentle, and very caring towards you like a good boyfriend should be… but there’s also times where he would cancel dates out of nowhere and that would leave you to be disappointed and go home bored. miles then tried to make it up to you by planning to hangout at his place this today, but things go sideways when his twin brother decides to take things into his own hands..

Bereavement by @famwhy

Miles is missing, and all you can think about is getting him back. Upon finally finding him, however, you're taken aback by the copy that stands beside him—the same copy that was staring at you with wide, shaking eyes full of... disbelief?

Peter Parker

Part Of Your World by @waitimcomingtoo

Peter meets a girl who dreams of being where the people are

hoax by @waitimcomingtoo

when Peter strikes out with you but discovers you’re a fan of his alter ego, he gets you tangled in his web of lies

Miguel O'Hara

Across the Street by @quaintii

It's been a couple weeks since a new family moved in, across the street. You go pay them a visit with an offer.

The game of cat and spider by @lucywrites02

You are a criminal and he's a hero. You don't know each other's names, never seen the person behind the mask. You aren't enemies- you are supposed to be but that didn't work out quite well. You liked each other a bit too much,  but your relationship was strictly…. Professional? What happens if you meet as normal people, with no masks and responsibilities in your way? What did the universe plan for you? And most importantly…. Will it last?

Daddy Issues by @drefear

Halo by @missdictatorme

You are an AI designed by Miguel. He gave you a unique voice, one he knew he would like listening to. He didn't really gave much thought to how you looked like when he made you a hologram form, he just choose a random picture of a woman from the internet. What happens when you ask for permission to design your own look?

my fate by @neteyamsluvts

while meeting miguel, he manages to take you away from your home and your father. yet after a while, you find yourself wanting to stay. until miguel reveals a awful truth

Web of Secrets by @liliacamethyst

Bittersweet Devotion by @diejager

IGOR by @papuhater

Bucky Barnes

i never thought you’d happen to me by @nickfowlerrr

Wade Wilson

Here’s To Us by @baka-bakeneko

Wade's street neighbor needs to use Wade's hot water.

Marc Spector + Steven Grant + Jake Lockley

Already over. by @m00nsbaby

With You by @ivystoryweaver

Eddie Brock/Venom

RUSH HOUR by @ghostheartfelt

you meet eddie during morning rush hour, vv understanding man who admires your connection with your customers and dedication towards your job. eddie's hungry for chocolate (n you), you pique interest in the host and his symbiote.

Miles Morales, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown, Peter Parker (Spider-Noir)

THIS IS A LIFE by @mo0nfairy

in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.

Avatar

Jake Sully

A Child of the Stars by @berry-blue03

you are Jake Sully's six year old daughter, who goes with him to Pandora. Takes place during the first Avatar movie

ꜰᴀʟꜱᴇ ɢᴏᴅ by @teyamsatan

Being one of two human kids left behind after the war, Jake has never seen you as anymore than a little stray cat, always hanging around his village and his kids. All will change one day when the two of you are stranded together, and he gets to discover there's more to you than he ever thought - enough to risk everything he's built for himself in the last 24 years of his life.

Prrnen by @cryinginthemoonpool

You and Jake were simply having a fling, with two different ideas: he was bored and you were in love...Unaware of the consequences, you end up pregnant...And with Jake running away from fatherhood, you have to deal with it on your own, for now...

Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyo'itan

Do you hate me? by @byunpum

You are the eldest Sully daughter, you are adopted. All your life you have grown up watching tsu'tey, and your feelings for him have grown. Everything changes when one day you go hunting with your crush.

Miles Quaritch

Sweet like cherry by @pandoraslxna

Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.

Damsel, let me de-stress you… by @quaritchsluts

Y/N te Suli Neytiri’ite is captured and imprisoned by Colonel Miles Quaritch and his squad, alongside her childhood friend - Spider - when attempting to aid her younger siblings whom were cornered by the recom team when exploring the woods. As Jake Sully’s eldest child, she knows it won’t be long until her father bites back at the recombinants, as does Miles. Because, how dare he take his precious daughter? His firstborn? So, with the odds against him — as well as the clock — and not to mention the displeased dad on his tail, Miles knows he must do whatever it takes to get all the information out of her that he can. Whatever it takes.

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan

Ghost girl by @byunpum

After their village was destroyed by humans, Y/N must seek refuge in the forest. Her being rescued by a peculiar family, she discovering that her gift had led her to them.

i remember her hands. and the way the mountains looked. by @vampsywrites

In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Jealousy by @eyweveng

You have a secret relationship with Neteyam but find out terrible news from your bestfriend.

~To You He Feels Like Home~ by @ghoul-bonez

You were born to the forest, wild by nature, wild by nurture, and surely wild in spirit. Your animal family had always warned you about strangers, the odd people who looked like you, but when one approaches you, you can’t help but be curious. When your curiosity wears off and you deem him weird enough you’re convinced you’ll never see him again, but Eywa has other plans.

Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan

twin flames by @strangerdangerwrites

Eywa has bonded the Son of the Forest and Daughter of Ember over the pain and grief towards the Sky People.

Ao’nung

Fated Mates by @anemonelovesfiction

-stars- by @adhdduckie

When Y/N, and the sullys first reach the reef, a boy catches her eye, and she does her best to catch his attention. She doesn't believe he likes her back, and she thinks it's ridiculous that she's so whipped for this boy. He seems to have no interest in her.

Ronal & Tonowari

Connection by @blue-sadie

Traveling with the sullys to the Metkayina village and tonowari and ronal falling in love with you at first sight and feeling a connection to you.

Neteyam & Lo'ak

Do It If You Dare by @aonungswifeyy

Picture her being quaritch’s daughter, who tries to kill lo’ak but she gets captured by neteyam and by the end of it all, quaritch finds out she now belongs to both lo’ak and neteyam

Reunion by @yourstrulybluelover

The Sullys have been away for years. They have just returned to the Forrest, not only bringing with them joy and hope but also uprooting masked feelings.

"The Love Shack" by @vivid-ink

You’d heard the whispered speculations and stifled giggles during the daytimes. You’d seen the furtive glances that the other women cast at Neteyam and Lo’ak through coquettish eyes, cheeks stained a blushing mauve as they exchanged coy smiles with the two brothers. And during the nights? Hell, you’d heard the moans and wanton cries for yourself… You were definitely curious, but did you have it in you to go through with their proposition?…

Actors

Jamie Flatters

ALL THINGS CONNECTED by @yawneneteyam

growing up on set together, y/n and jamie share their love for one another through the only way they know.. filmmaking

Scream

Ethan Landry

Perverted by @demontonic

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 by @n-slayaaaaa

Seeing the Core Four years after an explosive argument ended your friendship brought about plenty of unwelcome emotions—can you let the past go or has your plan for healing old wounds gone too far?

obsessed by @messylustt

getting a call from ghostface is never good. especially when you find out who lives under the mask—the dorky boy who you drunkenly kissed one night.

That boy is a monster. by @3vergr3en

Word on the block, there’s a ghost-masked killer on the loose again, but this time it roams around in the busy streets of New York during the weekend of Halloween. Being freshly new to the famous city, you find yourself a group of friends who you later find out survived last year’s Woodsboro attack. Now being marked as one of the targets, you and the rest try and figure out who the masked killer is this time. Then, a curly brown-haired boy catches your attention. You feel a sense of attraction towards his dorky charm, and he also shares the mutual feeling. But, rule 1 in the horror movie playbook, never, trust the love interest.

a father’s malice by @shadesslut

After the Ghostface attacks, Y/N tried her best to move on from Ethan with raising their son, but things get harder after Ethan gets out of jail.

Billy & Stu

Of Friends and Horror by @grimoireofhayley

You have been best friends with Billy Loomis since you both were in diapers, however, when high school hit, Billy's mom had filed for divorce and had left his father. His dad was miserable even in marriage, hence his continuous affairs with Maureen Prescott. Though, after the divorce and his mother leaving, Billy has been different since; He started dating Sidney Prescott, the late Mrs. Prescott's daughter. He never showed an interest in her until now… But why?

Last of Us

Joel Miller

Against All Odds by @and-claudia

Look For the Light by @cowgurrrl

When you left Boston with Joel Miller and a little girl named Ellie, you never thought it would land you in Jackson, Wyoming with a tiny family.

Reflection of the Moon by @chloeangelic

An affair with Joel in post-outbreak Jackson results in a pregnancy that neither of you are prepared for.

sun bleached flies by @breakfastatjoels

stumbling upon the settlement of jackson whilst 4 months pregnant had almost felt too good to be true. for the past seven years, you had been able to raise your daughter, mia, surrounded by a safe and supportive community. however, your small slice of paradise came tumbling down the day joel miller arrived. despite only crossing paths for a fleeting encounter all those years ago, you would never forget the face of your daughter's father.

Strawberries and Cigarettes by @delulubabygurl

you're falling in love with the person your dad hates the most

Miraculous Ladybug

Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir

New Bug in Town by @lilian-writes-sins

With Marinette AKA Ladybug gone, Chat Noir has to hold down the fort and protect the city of Paris from Hawkmoth, while waiting for Master Fu to choose the next Ladybug miraculous holder. The city is in disarray for months, with no sign of Ladybug returning, people are starting to lose hope. Until one day, when some passersby see a red and black figure jumping on the rooftops.

#avatar #atwow #avatar 2 #spiderman atsv #atsv #itsv #spider man #spiderman #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #venom #scream 6 #scream #venom imagine #last of us #miguel o'hara #miles morales #peter parker #eddie munson #hobie brown #spider noir #jake sully #tsu'tey #miles quaritch #neteyam #loak #ronal #tonowari #jamie flatters #miraculous ladybug

[yukidragon]

Hey Yuki, I was thinking about this the other day and it would be hilarious for Jack to stumble upon Rick Astley’s ‘Never to Give You Up’ and start singing along to it before his Sunshine looks back at him with a quiet terror because of the Internet. (Bonus points if he starts to troll them with the song and also, ‘Together Forever’ sound like a happy ending for Jack and his Sunshine)

Pffffff, that it's very fitting, especially since "Never Gonna Give You Up" and "Together Forever" are part of Jack's official spotify playlist. Sadly, it was released in 1987 and 1988 respectively so he died before he could listen to them during his lifetime. Alas. I'm sure [Redacted] would've loved listening to them.

So that gives me the image of Jack doing chores around the apartment, listening to an oldies station on the radio that specializes in 80's era music, and "Never Gonna Give You Up" comes on. He hums along, swaying to the beat, maybe singing along to the lyrics a little, since it's such a catchy song, and it really speaks to him.

Alice in the living room vaguely hears the Rick Roll song through her headphones and checks what tab on her computer is playing it, doing work of her own on her laptop. It's then that she takes her headphones off and realizes Jack is listening to the song unironically. He looks so cheerful about it too.

There's a moment where Alice just has to stare at him bobbing to the beat in the kitchen, the gears in her mind locked up for a moment between flashbacks of the internet pranks and accepting, yeah, Jack would like that kind of song, wouldn't he? He's from the 80's after all.

...This isn't going to be a regular thing, right?

At the same time it makes Alice wonder how Jack would react to being rick rolled and... she just can't resist. She starts snickering and loads up some webpages in preparation and brings her laptop into the kitchen.

Jack, naturally, is delighted Alice wants to join him. Oh? The song? It's catchy isn't it? Yeah, he likes it a lot! He could listen to it all day. It's almost disappointing for him when it comes to an end.

Alice feigns innocence and says that she wanted to show him something she found on her laptop.

Jack, ever eager to engage in his sunshine's interests, turns off the radio and looks at the webpage - something harmless like a link to a recipe. Oh, Alice wants him to check this out? Sure he'll-

Suddenly the song starts and Jack jumps a little as the music begins and the video plays. Then there's excitement! Oh, it's the song! Alice found it for him. The music video is pretty cool too. He watches it with unironic enjoyment, happy as can be.

Alice takes pleasure in his happiness, but that doesn't deter her from her mischief. When the song is over Jack wonders why the link brought him to the video instead of a recipe. He's still not used to computers or the internet and has needed her help to catch up with that technology. He's quick to learn, but there's still a lot that he doesn't know.

Alice shrugs noncommittally and suggests he try the link again. It leads to the song, of course. Jack chuckles a bit, but pauses the video this time. He can listen to it later. He wants to help his sunshine now.

Strange. Why does the link not work? Jack wonders. He clicked it like he was supposed to. He asks Alice if he did anything wrong, and she says nope. Maybe he should try another link, she suggests, then directs him to another tab where a link supposedly leads to pictures of kitties.

Again comes the Rick Roll and Jack is even more confused. Again clicking the link results in the same thing. He's wondering if there's something weird going on with the internet.

The next few links do the same thing and Jack is absolutely perplexed. He even checked the link addresses and they all go to different places, yet always he comes back to the video! What's going on?

Of course, Jack is a clever man and very perceptive, especially when it comes to his sunshine. It didn't escape his notice that Alice was snickering and fighting to keep a straight face the entire time, highly amused about something, especially when that video starts to play. Finally he gives her a suspicious look and asks if she has any idea what's going on, his tone making it clear that he knows something is fishy here.

Alice, between giggles, suggests he tries another link. Jack looks at her with a smirk, guessing now that he's being pranked. He says that somehow he has a feeling he knows that this link that claims it leads to an article about llama racing is going to be a lot more musical than advertised.

Jack is just outright looking at Alice as he clicks the link, starting up the song while staring at her, and she can't hold it together, cracking up. He's amused and chuckles along, thinking the humor comes entirely with the prank.

When Alice eventually gets her giggles under control, she does explain the full context of the Rick Roll and what turned the song into a meme. She just gave him a demonstration of it, as all internet newbies fall for it when they first go online.

"Even you, sunspot?"

Alice lets out an overly dramatic sigh coupled with an exaggerated eyeroll. "Wayyyy too many times as a kid. My online friends at the time thought it was funny."

Jack, of course, is a good sport about being pranked by his sunshine. The two of them have a nice chat about it, laugh over it, and Alice even shows him some popular remixes to the song, though he likes the original the best.

By this point, Alice has helped Jack get his own Spotify-equivalent (Stripeify?) account so he can play his favorite 's songs whenever he likes and doesn't have to wait for them to appear in rotation on the radio. It's full of 80's songs mostly, naturally, but there are a couple he found from listening to her playlist that now always remind him of her.

Jack gets also a little more savvy about the internet and meme culture from this. He decides to get a little payback of his own, though not with link misdirects. Instead he suddenly starts humming and singing the song when Alice least expects it. It becomes a bit of an in joke between them.

Jack still loves the song unironically, and sometimes he sings it not to tease Alice, but more as a stealthy promise to her. It's so fitting for their relationship after all. She's so shy about things going further than friendship between them for the longest time, but he'll never give her up, never let her down, and so forth.

In a way, Jack can say all the things that he's thinking of well before things change between them, sneakily masquerading it behind a song that becomes something special between them.

Of course, the song leads Jack into listening to the other songs by Rick Astley. "Together Forever" is another favorite of his for obvious reasons. He and his sunshine will be together forever, never to part... and he'll move heaven and earth to make sure of that.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings #Ask

[fcble]

GREAT THINGS, PART I

"Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known." — Jeremiah, 33:3.

In which Haksu becomes an idol in an unorthodox way. FEATURING: Kang Haksu, Lee Taein, Fable ensemble SETTING: November 2017 WORD COUNT: 10.3k WARNINGS / NOTES: Stalking, blackmail, extremely heavy-handed religious themes. Welcome to the piece that kicked my ass for over a year 🎉🎉. As in I started it a year ago and then wrote 9k words in the past two weeks. I have versions of this piece in three different perspectives. This is technically a rewrite of something I wrote earlier but now a few times longer 🎉🎉.

You’re going to do great things. You know this because it’s all anyone’s ever told you. You hear it from your father and your mother and your father’s father—until he dies—and your father’s mother—until she dies too—and your mother’s father and your mother’s mother.

You wonder when the great things will start. Time flips by, like the thin pages of the Bible that has resided on your bedside table since you were five. You’re a kid, a teenager, a young adult. You enter and exit middle school and high school. You begin to attend a mediocre university in Seoul, because it’s the only one in the city that accepted you. You brush that off, because you’re going to be great.

You think if you’re really, truly, going to be great, you might have to do it yourself.

The man’s name is Lee Taein. You meet him for the first time in a dream. You memorize the lines and planes of his face, because something about him is familiar. You conclude he must be rich or famous or both. 

In the dream, he doesn’t tell you his name. You find it yourself, on the Internet, holding the image of his face in your head as you comb through the other dream fragments: a stage, a song, a single voice. You’ve never thought about being a singer. You wonder why. 

You know how to sing. You’ve spent over a decade in choirs. You could be a singer.

That, you decide, is greater than whatever you’re doing now, which isn’t much of anything, and certainly nothing someone great would be doing.

You do your research. A lot of research. You spend your nights in bed, the darkness of your bedroom illuminated only by your laptop screen. In the mornings, you spend twice as long covering up the shadows under your eyes. 

It’s a worthwhile exchange. You learn Lee Taein is forty-nine years old. Last year, he parted ways with SM Entertainment to found his own entertainment company. You dig deeper.

He married his current wife four years ago. Her name is Jung Eunyoung. She’s forty-three, and yet has risen no higher than a secretary for a minor law firm. You learn all this from her very public Instagram profile.

His biggest vice is gambling—some of it barely legal, most of it not. You find a news article from 1999 detailing an illegal gambling ring bust. His name is mentioned once.

His new company is called Zenith Entertainment. You’re briefly disappointed to see that the last time they held auditions was February.

There are partially censored Tweets and forum threads speculating the identities of the company’s trainees. You look at the grainy pictures and read the names: Jaeseop, Kiyoung, Eunsu. 

You keep meticulous notes: index cards and the Notes app and a notebook you bought solely to organize your thoughts. Your grades slip. You haven’t attended class in three weeks.

You spend your days at a coffee shop across the street from Zenith Entertainment. You sit in a corner with a view of the building. You order the two cheapest items on the menu: a cookie and a small black coffee. You open your laptop and your notebook and pretend to work, covering the pages of your notebook with another sheet of paper whenever someone walks by.

Mostly, you watch.

You keep track of the people entering and exiting the building. Many of them work in the copywriting agency, based on their business casual outfits. You’ve stepped into the building once, only to be overwhelmed by the bright lights and the quiet hum of computers and the feeling of wrongness at being in a professional setting.

Taein dresses almost the same. If you didn’t know what he looked like, you’d miss him. The difference is in his stride and his posture: back straight, head forward, quick and even steps. You like him even more for that. He arrives in the late morning and leaves after the sun sets. You note the times: 9:43 AM, 10:02 AM, 9:56 AM, 7:19 PM, 7:48 PM, 8:10 PM.

You learn the intricacies of his schedule. There are days when he never arrives at all. You watch and wait as the hours tick by. Eight o'clock, nine o'clock, ten, eleven. No Lee Taein in sight. You wonder what he does when he doesn't work.

There are times when he'll step outside in the middle of the day, the movement catching your eye. You watch him stand on the sidewalk across the street and smoke a cigarette while he speaks on the phone. Twenty minutes later, he'll head back inside.

Sometimes you watch him leave accompanied by a younger man, somewhere around your age, who walks nearly, but not quite, behind him. You assume that must be his personal assistant or secretary or something along those lines.

Some of the people who visit the building must be trainees. You identify them from their age—young—and their dress—casual—and the times they arrive—all throughout the day. Occasionally, they stop by the coffee shop first, becoming more and more familiar to you.

There’s the tall foreigner who pronounces Americano with a distinctly Western accent. He arrives early in the morning, ordering his coffee shortly after you. He crosses the street in casual clothes and leaves in the late afternoon with the copywriter crowd, having changed into a more formal suit jacket and dress pants. You miss his departure for days until you realize he’s dressed differently.

There are the two high schoolers: one in a lurid yellow school uniform and another in a more sensible navy blue one. Sometimes their friend arrives earlier than them and sits a few tables down from you. He doesn’t wear a uniform. He sits for a half hour or so with his earbuds in while his iced coffee melts in front of him, until the high schoolers arrive. They talk loudly and boisterously, as if no one is listening.

You listen. You learn their names—Eunsu, Byeonghwi, Mingeun—and their orders—cold brew with an extra shot of espresso, iced caffè mocha, iced caffè latte. You hear them complain about teachers and Taein and trainee life.

You wonder if they could be your way in.

At night, when your roommate asks where you spend all your time, you tell him you got a job. He asks where. You fidget and your palms sweat and your heartbeat quickens. You stare past him and lie.

That weekend, you travel a few kilometers farther than usual and confess your sins.

Absolved, you think you’re ready for what comes next. 

You have to talk to Taein. You can’t be great if all you do is wait and watch. 

You peruse your notes, all of that information collected from your research and your observations, and then you devise your plan. You ask for His guidance and affirmation every day until you receive it. It comes in the form of one of your professors agreeing to overlook the sudden string of zeros in your homework assignments and tests. You were a decent enough student until a little over a month ago. If your previous work can be so easily overworked and dismissed, then maybe it’s time for your true calling. You’ve waited for this moment your entire life.

Less than a week later, you walk into the building like you belong there, not too early, not too late. You wear a winter jacket, which you shed as soon as you step inside, over a stiffly starched collared shirt and your best Sunday pants. You step into the elevator, alone, and decide to start at the top. You press the button for the fifth floor. It refuses to light up. You press it again and again to no avail. You stand in the still elevator and try the fourth floor.

Your ascent begins. You planned it all out: it's just after nine in the morning, after all the copywriters start their work and much too early for the students to be around. You're a last-minute callback from the audition, though that was months ago. It explains why Taein won't recognize you. You spoke to someone over the phone, someone named—what was her name? You can't remember. She said you should visit, so you're here—and oh, the appointment isn't in his calendar? She must have forgotten. You'll smile winningly and apologetically and Taein will be so charmed he'll agree to take you on on the spot.

You haven’t thought farther than that.

You step out of the elevator and into a dimly lit hall. The very air seems stale. There seems to be no one else around, so you proceed slowly down the hall. The fluorescent lights cast everything in a sickly yellow shade. You’re presented with two doors. The one on the left has a small glass window. You angle yourself away from it, on the off chance that someone sees you and knows you don’t belong. The one on the right is windowless, a blank slate of dark brown wood.

You debate internally for a few moments. The longer you stay there, the longer you risk meeting someone other than Taein. You try the plain door. The knob turns easily in your hand.

“Jaeseop?” A voice asks from inside. You aren’t Jaeseop, but you’ve seen that name before.

You steel yourself, silently ask for His guidance, and turn the knob all the way.

“If you’re asking about managing the social media accounts again, the answer is no,” the voice continues. It belongs to a middle-aged man, in a plain dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a ballpoint pen in the breast pocket. He looks away from his computer screen, and you find yourself face-to-face with Lee Taein.

“You must be lost. The copywriting agency is on the first two floors,” Taein says.

“I’m supposed to be here,” you say. You bow, politely, to him, then add on, “My name is Kang Haksu. I received a call a few days ago—”

Taein cuts you off, which is maybe for the better, because now that you were about to say it, your story is paper-thin and a bit silly. “You didn’t receive anything. There were no calls. You’re no one.”

Nothing is going to plan, so you do your best to improvise. “I know you’re developing an idol group. I need to be part of it.”

Taein stares at you like he can’t believe those words came out of your mouth. You believe them. You need this. Who will you be if you don’t do this?

“This is not a charity.” His voice is bone dry. “We can’t get everything we want in life. It’s better to learn that lesson early. Tell whoever sold you your information on my business and I that I don’t take charity cases.”

“I’m not a sasaeng.” His words sting. It’s a veiled accusation, but an accusation nonetheless.

“I never said you were. People like you are a dime a dozen, thinking you can waltz into the entertainment industry with no experience and no connections and immediately become a superstar. It takes much more hard work, skill, and luck than someone like you can imagine. Try your luck somewhere else.”

His words strip you to the core. Were you too naive, thinking you’d be different? You shrink back from the ferocity of it all, cowed more than you’d like to admit. You don’t take his words to heart. You can’t go anywhere else. You’re supposed to be here, under Taein’s direction. 

You don’t know how or when, but you’ll be back. You’ll find another way. You don’t have anything to say to his words, the humiliation still burning across your face, so you turn tail and flee.

You escape out into the cold, winter morning, no closer to your destiny than you were an hour ago. If anything, you’re objectively farther away. Taein knows you now, knows your name and your face and your deepest desire. You don’t let that stop you. You vow to yourself to never let him get the best of you like that again. You’ll be seeing him a lot in the future, you know, because you’ll be in his group. 

By the time you enter the cafè across the street again, you’re bouncing back. You’ve always been resilient. You’re shielded, after all, by the grace of God. The cashier starts to ring up your usual black coffee and cookie order, but you wave it away and spend a little more on a latte instead. As you sip your drink and stare broodingly at the building across the street, your second plan begins to form. If it’s a sasaeng Taein wants, then it’s a sasaeng he’ll get. 

On your way home, you stop at a convenience store and buy a new notebook. You sit on your dorm room bed and think about the days you spent watching the building, the days when Taein was nowhere to be found. He’s a bit of a workaholic, but clearly not enough to spend seven days a week at his workplaces. You, on the other hand, are unemployed enough to spend seven days a week looking into what he does. You copy the dates and times out of your old notebook and try to find a pattern.

He arrives late on Mondays, but you chalk that up to a normal dislike of Mondays. The rest of the weekdays are sporadic. There was a week where Taein missed three days of work in a row. You wonder if it's something else, if it's easily explainable. Maybe he caught a cold. It is winter, after all. You dismiss the thought. He's up to something. You know he is.

The day he misses the most often is Tuesday, from the few weeks you've watched him. In fact, he's never been at work on a Tuesday. You wonder why you never noticed that before.

It's Thursday, which means you have a few days to continue your research. You do a quick search for how much a private investigator costs, and are shocked by the results. It's fine. You can be a private investigator yourself. How hard can it be?

You plug Taein's name into one of those less-than-reputable websites that promise addresses and phone numbers. You're prompted to create an account and pay a small fee. You click through it all without hesitating. A few thousand won now means very little in the great, grand scheme of your idol destiny.

Multiple people with the same name as Taein pop up. You aren't worried, because your Taein is a public figure. That, and you know his age and his wife’s name.

Eventually, one of them fits the bill perfectly. You take a quick break to straighten your posture and ease the stiffness from your spine. You've been sitting here, engrossed in your new plan, for the better part of an hour. 

Your best guess so far is an address in Hongje-dong. You've been lucky in your observation so far. That must mean you're on the right track. You're getting closer and closer with each passing day. Tomorrow you'll close the distance between you and your destiny.

In the morning, you wake up extra early to get to Hongje-dong before Taein leaves. You doubt he takes the subway anywhere, so you rent a bike and make your way to his address. You only lose your balance twice in your first block. It’s early enough in the morning that there’s no one around to see you.

You arrive at the address much faster than you expected. The sun is only barely beginning to creep over the horizon. Then you pause, because Taein lives in a condominium. Every house on the block looks the same. The only differences are the cars parked out front of each one and the numbers on the houses. You stick out here, a young man on a bicycle with nowhere to go. You take one last look at Taein’s home and the car outside—a white Mazda—then wheel yourself around and pedal out.

You repeat the license plate to yourself in your head until you arrive at a convenience store. It’s the only place around that’s open. You buy a bag of chips and take a seat outside, keeping an eye out for Taein. You add the plate number to your notes and try to figure out exactly what kind of car he drives. You have time to spare. You expect him to head to the Zenith Entertainment building today, and he tends to arrive around nine or ten. After you consider traffic, it shouldn’t take him more than half an hour. 

You’re almost certain he drives a 2015 Mazda 3. You head back inside and buy a coffee. Then you take a few moments to think through your plan. Like if Taein drives, then where in the city does he park? Naver Map told you this convenience store was along the quickest route to Sinmunno 2-ga. What if he has a faster route? 

You’re still worrying when Taein’s car speeds by, much faster than the speed limit allows. You jump up from your seat, nearly spilling your coffee. You can’t hold it and ride your bike at the same time, so you hurry to dispose of it and pack up your notes again. You pray Taein is heading to Zenith Entertainment. It’s a little early, but maybe there’s a good reason for that. You set off in the same direction as him, though he’s disappeared from sight.

You make your way to Zenith Entertainment anyway, and by chance, see a white Mazda disappearing into a parking garage down the road from the company building. It’s too far for the garage to be connected to the building, so you lock your bike across the street and wait for him to leave. You lock and unlock the bike lock three times, fiddling with the combination. You strap the helmet to your backpack and lean against the seat and pretend to look at your phone, all the while eyeing the entrance.

Taein never leaves. You look both ways, then cross the street into the depths of the garage. It’s risky, because Taein could see you and recognize you, but you can’t take the chance that he’s gone somewhere else or is doing something else. Your imagination runs wild, thinking of all the illicit activities he might participate in. There are a number of other cars in the lot. The copywriters, you assume.

Then, in a small walkway that must lead to another entrance, you see him, standing with another man. You duck behind a car, and creep closer to the two of them. Taein must be smoking, because the smell of cigarette smoke permeates your hiding spot. 

“You wanted to do more than catch up,” Taein is saying when you can finally hear them.

“I didn’t.” The other man sounds amused.

“We could have met anywhere else. You insisted on this attempt at discretion.”

“It’s about your case,” the other man says. “They want to open it again.”

“I thought you took care of that, Cheolhwan.” Taein sounds guarded. “How much do they want?”

You don’t know what this is about, but you silently take your phone and start to record. 

“Twice what you gave me. This is above my pay grade.”

They’re quiet after that. You peek carefully through the cars to see if they’ve left. They’re still standing there, the ember at the end of Taein’s cigarette the brightest light. You duck down again without getting a better look at Cheolhwan. You wonder if he’s a loan shark or something. Breaking off and starting a company can’t be cheap.

“Alright. The police never liked me much anyway,” Taein says suddenly. You poke your head back up to watch him drop his cigarette butt to the ground and grind it under his shoe.

Cheolhwan snorts. “I can’t imagine why. Planning on begging Jinguk again?”

“I don’t beg. Jinguk-ssi and I are proper business partners.”

That gets a laugh out of Cheolhwan, the short, rough, sound echoing around the garage. 

You stop your video recording, unsure of whatever that was. You doubt it'll be of use in your quest to be an idol, but you decide to hold onto it for now. You hear footsteps begin to recede in the distance, and you wait in your hiding place until they disappear completely. 

All in all, you feel vindicated. There's something suspicious going on with Taein. You're certain you can get to the bottom of it. It's something to do with money. You can find out who Cheolhwan is. Their relationship is uncertain to you. They spoke casually to each other, but there was a degree of aloofness to the entire conversation that you don't know what to make of. Whatever it is, it was more than a simple meeting between friends.

When you’re certain they’re gone, you stand up, stretching out the crick in your neck. You assume Taein will spend the rest of the day at work, and that’s not somewhere you can watch him too closely. You return to your usual haunt across the street instead and make an attempt to catch up on your forgotten coursework. 

It’s a good attempt, but you lose all steam when the high school trainees arrive. You stare daggers at their backs, because they’re in the exact position you want to be in. You watch them order their drinks and slowly sip them, idling the afternoon by. You don't understand why they don't take their positions more seriously. There are so many other people—yourself included—who are dying to be where they are.

But you aren’t them, so you have to settle for envy.

Eventually, they leave, and you watch through the window as they enter the Zenith Entertainment building, still laughing and talking companionably. You aren't jealous. You could build your own close group of friends. You just haven't. But if you really wanted to, you could.

The sun begins to set, and you know you've outstayed your welcome. You haven't bought anything since your single coffee hours ago. The waitstaff give you sidelong looks every now and then, but they don't ask you to leave, so you pretend you don't see them.

You finally see Taein make his long-awaited exit a little earlier than usual. He's walking fast. This time, you’re prepared. As his Mazda 3 emerges from the parking garage, you’re right behind him on your bike. You think he should be heading home, but that's not set in stone, so you decide to follow him. Your intuition pays off when you see him turn not back to Hongje-dong, but somewhere else. At a traffic light, you pause to try and figure out where you are. You've only lived in Seoul for a year and a half, the length of your short-lived university career. The city blocks are still unfamiliar to you. The light turns green, and Taein speeds off. You rush to catch up with him.

You wonder where he could be going, driving so quickly he nearly bowls over a pedestrian. Leave it to him to be so careless. Your opinion of him is souring faster and faster.

He comes to a stop outside of a small, decrepit bar you’ve never heard of before, still driving too quickly as he pulls into the parking lot. You stop, across the street again, trying to figure out where you are. It doesn’t like the type of scene that caters to university students or tired corporate employees. Your mind goes to the worst places. It could be a front for all the worst types of activities—drugs and gambling and prostitution. You record the name in flickering neon lights anyway.

You’re about to leave and try to return during the day when you spot Taein leaving. He’s in the company of a young woman, and so you almost don’t recognize him. She’s wearing a long coat, but the front is open, giving you glimpses of an outfit that isn’t close to being warm enough for the weather. She clings to Taein’s arm like a lifeline, stumbling over the cracks in the sidewalk in her heels. They look like a couple. Your stomach turns. He has a wife.

With shaking hands, you raise your phone and snap another few pictures. You don’t want to see him anymore, so you don’t bother to try and follow them. You almost regret your decision to weasel your way into his life. Instead, you get back onto your bike and head home.

Saturday arrives. You don't spend your weekends at Zenith Entertainment, because you have better things to do. Or had. This morning, you wake up early again to bike back to Taein's home. You spent some time last night wondering just how far you’ll go to reach your destiny. Between that shady conversation you overheard yesterday and the young woman he met up with, you’re almost afraid of what you’ll see him do next. Sometimes you have to do difficult things before you can do great things.

More than that you’re curious about what Taein does on the weekends. Before this, your impression of him was that of a career-driven man with few feelings or even an existence outside of his job. You don’t understand why you have to work for this man, but it isn’t your place to question it.

You cycle around the blocks a few times, and it slowly comes to light in your head.

Taein is clearly the breadwinner between him and his lawfully wedded wife, so you doubt he spends his weekends shopping or cooking or cleaning. You also doubt he’s devout. As hard as you try, you can't even begin to picture him in church. You're almost certain he doesn't have kids. If he does, it's a very closely guarded secret, because it wasn't mentioned once in anything you read about him online. You wonder if maybe he had kids with his previous wife and lost custody of them. Knowing what you know about him now, you don’t find that hard to believe.

The white Mazda 3 sits outside of his condo. A light is on inside the house. You aren’t looking forward to spending a day waiting for Taein to do something. You wonder if you should have forked over the money—your parents’ money—for a private investigator. Then it would be someone else keeping watch on Taein’s house, someone more suited for the job than one young man shivering on a bike.

You think it's weird for you to sit right outside his house, so you take to patrolling the two possible entrances to the street instead. You pedal slowly, heading up and down the street. At the moment, there's nothing you fear more than having him leave without you noticing. You pause to scrutinize the map on your phone to ensure there are no other exits or back roads or possible ways out of his home other than the main street.

Then, eventually, you see his car roll by. You rush after it. He's driving slower than normal. That's when you notice it isn't him in the driver's seat, but his wife. She's the only one in the car. It makes sense, then, that the car is following the posted speed limits. You wonder what Taein is possibly doing alone at home now.

You ride back to his house, just in time to see him step outside and lock the door behind him. You stare, shocked, and have just enough sense to hide behind the condo across the street. His wife left less than five minutes ago. Where are they going, separate and alone?

Taein heads off on foot. You wait until you see him leave. The bike is a bit cumbersome. How could you have predicted that his wife would take the car somewhere and he’d leave on foot? You walk alongside your bike and try to pretend you aren't following him. You ride halfway around the block in boredom before you have to turn around so you don't lose him. You wish he could walk faster.

You check your phone. What's within walking distance of his condominium? The convenience store you sat outside of. A station? He could get anywhere from there.

The streets are too empty for you to follow closer. If he were to turn around, he'd spot you immediately. It stresses you out. You aren't a professional. You really should have hired a private investigator.

To your dismay, he turns into the subway station. You abandon your rental bike right outside, tapping through the app to return it as you continue to follow Taein. There are a few more people here, which makes it easier for you to follow him, and easier for him to lose you.

He's waiting for Line 3 towards Ogeum, the only line that runs through this station. You check the overlapping lines on the map, standing behind him so he doesn't see you. There are too many options for possible transfers: Jongno 3-ga, Euljiro 3-ga, Chumgmuro, Yaksu, Oksu, and on and on and on. You hope he doesn't travel too far. You hope he doesn't get off somewhere and order a taxi. You fill the time by once again trying to imagine what he does for fun on the weekends. For some reason, you can't picture him doing anything. He's the type of person to spend the weekend at the office. You chart the path to Zenith Entertainment from your current location. It’s two stops on the line and then a short walk. It wouldn't surprise you if he stopped there. You don't particularly want to go to Zenith Entertainment again. You're supposed to find something about him that will leave him no choice but to accept you. The woman he met yesterday was a good start. You wonder if he's heading out to see her again. 

As you're lost in your thoughts, the train arrives. You make sure you're in the same car as Taein, though it increases the chances of him noticing you. You'll have to play it off as a coincidence. You rehearse the lines in your head. You'll pretend you don't recognize him. As if you could forget what he looks like. He might not recognize you, you realize. You met him once, for a few minutes. The train picks up speed.

You pass through the first few stops with no incidents. So Taein isn’t going to work. Your interest is piqued.

You're on the train with him for almost forty-five minutes. You watch station after station pass by, the smooth tone of the recorded announcer reciting stop after stop. Taein makes no move to exit at a single one. He stares down at his phone, which lets you stare at him. He doesn't do anything interesting. All he does is scroll through his phone, tap his screen a few times, then stare. He looks like your average salaryman.

He finally gets off in Yangjae. You’re in Gangnam now. You let him leave first. When the doors are about to close, you follow after him. He isn't heading out, but through the station. You follow him to a transfer to the Shinbundang Line. You only know this because you’re spending so much time staring at the map on your phone, it’s starting to become engrained on the backs of your eyelids.

He rides the new subway line for one stop. You both exit at Gangnam Station. You follow him up back into the daylight. It's much more crowded here, locals and tourists alike. 

Taein walks faster. That probably has something to do with the crowds. You hurry after him, thankful you're no longer burdened with your bike.

He heads down a series of twists and turns, alleyways and backroads forming a route Naver Map would never recommend to you. You’re glad it’s the middle of the day. You’d hate to do this at night.

In front of you, Taein heads into a storefront you wouldn’t be caught dead in. This one doesn’t have a name on top of it. You take a picture anyway, then cross-reference your location with the map. There’s still no name. You debate whether or not you should follow him in. From the outside, it’s not the type of place you belong. But Taein could be doing any matter of incriminating activities in there, and that’s what you need to see.

You let your internal debate rage for a few seconds more. Then you cross the street and push the door open.

The room is dimly lit. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and when they do, you realize a few of the patrons are looking at you. You’re the youngest person in the room. You slide up to the bar and order a drink. God knows you need it.

You take a small sip and grimace immediately. It's obvious people don't come here to drink. You cast a casual glance around the room, looking for Taein. It isn't too crowded. He should be easy to spot---and vice versa, he could easily spot you. You don't see him. Most of the patrons are more engaged with the TV screens in the corner of the room and across the top of the bar. You expect to see sports or the news or something along those lines. You look up to see horses.

It clicks in your head. Horse racing. These people are day drinking and gambling. You belong anywhere else in the world but here. And where is Taein, in this entire mess?

You flag the bartender down.

"Did you see a man come in?" you ask. "Middle-aged, around my height, with an oversized watch? His name’s Lee Taein." You do a bit of your own gambling, placing a bet on Taein being a regular here.

The bartender regards you curiously. "You’re looking for Taein-ssi?”

"He’s my boss," you say. "He told me to meet him here. I was promoted recently. He wanted to celebrate."

The words fall easily from your tongue. It's more of a lie than the truth, but it could be the truth soon enough.

"Congratulations. He invited you here and didn't tell you the password?" The bartender shakes his head. He points into an ever darker recess of the room. "Down the hall. To the left of the bathroom. 8179."

You thank him and leave your drink alone. The left of the bathroom is a door with a keypad above the handle. You type in the passcode, and the lock clicks.

Taein is on the other side of the door. Your destiny is on the other side of the door. You take a deep breath and crack the door open.

You don't know what you expected. It certainly wasn't the opposite of what you experienced upstairs. For a secret room, it's well-lit and almost cozy. There aren’t many people in the room, just a few small groups of four or five people sitting around green, square tables, playing cards. Now, you spot Taein immediately, sitting behind a decently-sized pile of poker chips, the largest pile on his table. One of the people he's playing with the young woman you saw him with last night. She seems your age, maybe a few years older or younger.

You close the door silently behind you. Your skin crawls. You want to get out of here as soon as possible.

There's another bar down here, against the back of the wall. The drinks on the tables look significantly better than they do upstairs. You think about getting another one, just to make it look like you belong here and you fit in.

No one seems to notice your entrance, too engaged in their games. Your luck holds as you slide around to take a few pictures of Taein, holding your phone just in front of you, at waist level. Your fingers shake, but blurry photos are better than no photos. No one else has their phones out, not even resting on the poker tables. It feels illegal for you to do this. In fact, everything about this feels illegal. You make sure to get Taein's full face in the images, and from multiple angles. Then you slip your phone back into your pocket.

That's when you're interrupted.

"You're new here." A hand lands on your shoulder. A few people—not Taein—look up at that, before just as quickly returning to their games. You turn slowly around to see a man twice your size, a bouncer inside the club.

"I was looking for the bathroom," you say, aiming for young, fresh-faced innocence.

"How old are you, kid?"

"Nineteen," you lie. You’re twenty-one. You hate how easily that one comes out. You could have told the truth.

"Good try," the man says, keeping his firm grip on your shoulder as he guides you back to the exit. You take a glance back at Taein. Throughout the entire ordeal, he hasn't looked up once, much too concerned with the cards in his hands. Although it doesn’t look like it, you hope he loses. 

You aren't in the mood to wait in the real bar until Taein emerges, so you leave.

"Leaving already?" the bartender upstairs asks.

You ignore him. It doesn't matter. You're never coming here again.

You head home to see how blurry your pictures are. You think you might already have enough material to force him to give you a position. He's made it scarily easy for you. You didn't even need a private investigator.

You spend the rest of the week following him around anyway. You've grown used to it: the bike rental and Taein's neighborhood and Zenith Entertainment and a variety of bars and hotels across the entire city you know you’ll never step foot in again, and once, another day spent in Gangnam at a shiny skyscraper. Taein arrived at seven in the morning, earlier than he does at Zenith Entertainment, and didn't emerge until nearly eight at night. That was weird, but you had no way of getting into the building, short of breaking in. You had considered pizza delivery, kid of an employee, new employee, and a few other disguises before giving up. After the bouncer encounter, you’re staying clear of security. And that building made its security obvious, what with all the men in navy blue uniforms and earpieces, standing outside every entrance. What were the chances of Taein doing anything illegal or immoral there? Low, you figured, judging by the number of luxury cars dropping passengers off outside.

In your spare time, you try to find anything about Cheolhwan. With only a first name and a tenuous connection to Lee Taein, it’s difficult. You find two Cheolhwans in Taein’s Korea University graduation class. That was decades ago. You doubt either of those are the same man. 

Regardless, you go through with your new plan. Armed with your newly obtained material, you’re ready for your second attempt. You know Taein's schedule now. That means when he arrives at Zenith Entertainment for the day, on a bright, sunny, perfect Wednesday morning, you're standing outside his office.

"You again," Taein says, calm and impassive. "This type of perseverance is seen as obsessive behavior. The answer is no again."

You haven’t even asked your question. You watch him unlock the door to his office.

"Please leave."

You stop him from closing the door with your foot. "I have something you might want to see."

"I don't think so," Taein says. He seems to be in a bad mood. He must have had a bad night last night.

"If you don't want to see it, I think your wife, Jung Eunyoung-ssi, might have an interest in it instead," you say.

That gets his attention. "I don’t see what you’re getting at. I don’t mix business with pleasure."

"Please don't play dumb, Taein-ssi," you say, adapting to each of his evasive attempts. You didn't plan this out. You remember how poorly that went last time. Taein is unpredictable to you. You don't know him nearly well enough to begin to predict any of his responses. "I know you're seeing another woman."

Taein stares at you. "I suppose you should come inside." He sounds extremely reluctant. At the same time, you know this isn't a conversation the two of you should be having in a corridor. You tamp down the sudden flare of excitement in your chest. 

His office looks the same as you remember it. You take a seat in the plastic folding chair with the uneven legs.

"Are you a private investigator? A detective? You’ll find everything in order."

He’s defensive already. You’ve barely said anything. The investigator comment is a bit flattering. You like it.

“Everything except your marriage,” you note.

Taein shrugs. "Divorce is messy. I don't have time for that right now."

You think it's terrible that he divorced his first wife, and seems to be considering divorcing his second wife. You shove the thought aside and bring out your phone, placing it on the table between the two of you. 

“What’s her name?” you ask. “You seem to spend a lot of time with her.”

It's definitely not the strongest statement, but your proof is what's more important. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words.

"Did Eunyoung hire you?" Taein asks suddenly, ignoring your comment. He's looking at you, instead of the pictures of himself.

"No," you say. "No one hired me."

The two of you look through the album together: Taein and the young woman, arm in arm over and over and over again, in bars and restaurants and hotel lobbies and out on the street in broad daylight.

Then, Taein swipes one photo too far and you’re both presented with a photo of Taein in profile, staring intently at the two playing cards he’s holding. He picks up your phone. "How did you get this?"

He isn’t denying it any longer. You figure it's hard to deny something when the hard, concrete proof is right in front of you.

"I was there," you say.

Taein thinks about it for a second, then nods. "I didn't recognize you then. You were the one Soogeun-ssi removed."

You don't like his choice of words, but you nod anyway. You didn't think he'd noticed you. You thought you were so clever, getting away with everything. You don’t have anything else to say. Your photos speak for you.

"Who paid you?" he asks again, deathly calm. This is uncharted territory. “How much more would I have to pay you?”

“No one paid me anything. I don’t want your money. All I want is to be an idol.”

He shakes his head. “There are easier ways to do that.”

“This is the way I’m doing it. This is the way I want to do it.” This is the way you have to do it.

Taein’s expression is inscrutable. You’ve played your hand. It’s up to him to respond. You wait with bated breath, until he finally says, “I’ll give you a trial period. If you can keep up with everyone else for a month, we can reconsider your position then. If you can’t, then we part ways amicably. No one, least of all Eunyoung, needs to know what you’ve done.”

“I don’t get anything,” you say.

“You get a chance,” Taein snaps. “It’s more than you deserve. Time will tell if this bet pays off.”

You don’t appreciate being compared to a game of roulette. “I might talk to Eunyoung-ssi any time in the future.”

“You might. It won’t make a difference.” He’s oddly calm. It unnerves you.

“Why not?” You have to ask.

“Cheating isn’t illegal. Nor is playing cards in a private setting. Stalking, on the other hand, is.” You can’t do great things from a jail cell, so that keeps you from continuing to argue. 

Taein continues to speak. “For the time being, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to ruin my marriage. The negative press would be disastrous at this time, and divorce proceedings are lengthy. As long as you want to work for me, our fates are tied.”

That’s a sentiment you can support. You nod slowly. Something like a smile takes its place on Taein's face. “You can come by on Monday. The other trainees know it's too late for me to accept anyone new. Tell them you've been confirmed to debut.”

On your first day, you take the elevator up to the third floor. It opens to a floor much different from the fourth. The left side is the same: a door with a glass window, expanding all the way down as far as you can see. The right side leads into an open office, with cubicles arranged in small groups of fours and fives. There are even a few people sitting amongst the desks. That isn't your place, so you ignore them and push open the door to the left. 

There's one person in the room, a teenage boy sitting down on the floor and stretching. He looks up at you when you enter with sharp, calculating eyes. You recognize him for your days in the cafè—Mingeun. He doesn’t seem to recognize you. He rises to his feet, moving with a grace unfit for his age, like he’s so perfectly comfortable in his body despite being in his awkward teenage years. You were nothing like him when you were his age a few years ago.

“I’m Haksu,” you say. “I’m new here.” You smile at him, something you think is befitting of an idol, but he doesn’t return it. If anything, his neutral expression grows frosty.

“Mingeun,” he says stiffly. “Taein-nim promised there wouldn’t be any more new people. Where are you from? JYP? YG?”

He sounds whiny and childish. You’re unimpressed.

“Gunsan,” you try, though you know that’s not what he means.

Mingeun scowls. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

You’re about to respond, to tell him you’re not from anywhere in the way he means, when the door flies open. You recognize both of the two new arrivals—one is the tall foreigner you’ve seen in the cafè, and the other is the young man you’ve seen following Taein—his assistant, presumably.

“Mingeun!” Taein’s assistant scolds. “Stop harassing the new guy.”

“I wasn’t harassing him,” Mingeun shoots back. “We’re going to be good friends. Right, Haksu-ssi?”

The look he gives you clearly says to play along. You don’t know if you’re going to be good friends, but you nod along anyway. Their conversation continues like you aren’t even there.

“We were just getting to what company he trained at,” Mingeun says. “Then we were going to talk about why Taein-nim thought he should join us.”

Taein’s assistant winces. “You won’t like either of those answers.”

“Another SM reject? I can handle it. I’m over it.”

Taein’s assistant ignores Mingeun and turns to you instead. He holds his hand out, Western-style, and says, “I’m Jaeseop. I’m so sorry about Mingeun. We''—he gestures to himself and the cafè foreigner—”were supposed to be the first ones to meet you. Sam—Taein-nim—held us up. Oh, and that’s Andrew.”

Your first impression of him is that he’s frazzled and all over the place. You imagine being Taein’s assistant is a difficult job. Behind him, Mingeun folds his arms, clearly upset about being excluded from the conversation. 

You grasp his hand. “Haksu.”

“I know,” Jaeseop says, suddenly looking like he’d rather be anywhere but in front of you. “Taein-nim told me about you.”

You wonder how much Taein told him. You don’t think he’d tell his assistant everything. It’s supposed to be a secret between the two of you.

“How many—” You hesitate in the middle of your sentence. Of you? Of us? How long until you're one of them? “—other trainees are there?”

“Seven,” Jaeseop says. “With you, there's eight.”

“If you're expecting monthly evaluations and competing against fifty other trainees, we're past that,” Mingeun cuts in.

“We’re the debut team. We’re all that's left,” Andrew adds.

The three of them seem so in-sync with one another, like parts of a perfect, well-oiled machine. You're the loose cog, the piece of scrap metal carelessly tossed inside, with all the potential of breaking the machine into pieces. And how does Taein's assistant fit into all of this? He seems close to Andrew and Mingeun, closer than an assistant to the CEO should be.

“When will I meet everyone else?” you ask, just to change the subject.

Jaeseop, with all the mental fortitude of an overworked assistant, takes a deep breath and begins to rattle off a list of names and short descriptions and times, most of which fly right over your head. “Intak will be here around lunchtime, after his classes end. Byeonghwi and Eunsu come by after school in the mid-afternoon. Kiyoung-hyung keeps saying he'll quit his job, but he hasn't, so he won't be here until the evening.”

Andrew picks up on your obvious cluelessness, and simplifies it down to, “Intak will be here soon. He'll be extremely bad at small talk. Don't mention it to him.”

You don't know where that came from, but you nod along anyway. These are going to be your group members. You need to get along with them. 

“Don't talk about League either,” Mingeun adds suddenly. You didn't realize he was still part of the conversation. “Unless you're also an SKT fan upset about their loss. He's really into that. You don't seem like a gamer.”

“I play a bit,” you say diplomatically, because you do. You were a teenage boy at one point, and there was no way for you to survive those years without playing League of Legends at least once.

“We all have sensitive topics, “ Jaeseop says as way of explanation. “Things we don't want to talk about and therefore try to avoid unless there's no other way around it. Mingeun, yours are?”

With a sigh, Mingeun dutifully says, “SM Entertainment. All you need to know is that I used to be a trainee there. And my mom. You don't need to know anything about her.”

Jaeseop keeps saying “we.” If you hadn’t seen him so many times with Taein, you’d take him for another trainee. You want to ask what his role really is, but you know you can't, because it'll betray you. It's harder than you expected to act like you know nothing about them. You'll have to be careful to not slip up. 

He turns his full attention to you, and asks, “Got anything?”

This is the last thing you expected from your first day as an idol. Your first item comes quickly. “How I joined Zenith Entertainment.”

You know you'll have to tell them eventually, but for now, you want to get along with everyone. Mingeun looks like he wants to ask you anyway, consequences be damned.

Andrew dismisses him before he can speak. “Byeonghwi asked for the same.”

“He asked us not to ask him why,” Jaeseop corrects. “He got in through the audition.”

Mingeun attacks like a shark smelling blood in the water. “Why’d you do it?”

You could tell them that, you suppose, but something holds you back. You want to be certain you can achieve your destiny before you start shouting it to the world. “I don't want to discuss that either,” you say instead. It's the only way out of it you can see, so you take it.

“Can we talk, hyung?” Mingeun asks, turning to Jaeseop. “Privately?”

You know you'd be the subject of their conversation. You can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing. You like the attention, but in this context, it seems bad. You want to get along with Mingeun, but it's clear he has little intention of getting along with you.

“No.” Jaeseop's response is firm, and you like him a little more for that. “You can tell me in front of Haksu-ssi.”

Mingeun falls silent, clearly unwilling to say whatever he wanted to say a few minutes ago.

“Great. Anything else?”

You do have a few other ideas in mind, but you've already chosen two major ones and you're afraid to rock the boat, so you shake your head.

On the wall behind him, you notice, for the first time, a schedule created out of a bunch of individual pieces of paper taped together. You skim over it. It’s overwhelming. There are classes on three out of the seven days, scheduled back to back to back: dance lessons and vocal lessons and rap lessons and media training and a short section on how to walk and more dance lessons. It's overwhelming. You're thankful to see that Sundays are, blessedly, left empty.

Jaeseop follows your gaze. “It’s a lot to take in at first,” he says sympathetically. “You’ll get used to it.”

You will, because you have no other choice. Your options are to adjust, or to give up and forfeit your spot and your destiny. The latter isn’t even in the realm of possibility. You’ll adjust and you’ll succeed, because you have to.

Then it's noon, and Intak arrives. You remind yourself: no comments on his social skills and nothing about League of Legends. He shows up with nothing but a laptop bag slung over one shoulder and a can of Red Bull. He looks over you with a disinterested gaze, asks, “Another one?”, chugs his Red Bull, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he and Andrew disappear out of the practice room to wherever else they go. 

Mingeun leaves shortly after the two of them. You know he's going to the cafè to wait for the two high schoolers, but you don't say that out loud. You watch him leave, and then you're left alone with Jaeseop, the two of you sitting on the floor. 

“If I ask about how or why you became a trainee, can you give me an answer?” Jaeseop asks.

“No,” you answer, because you can't.

“Do you have any relation to the Danyoung Group?” is his next question.

“No,” you say again, unsure what a chaebol who built and now owns three-quarters of the buildings in Seoul has to do with you. “I’m from Gunsan.”

He stares at you like he doesn't believe you. You meet his gaze until he looks away. 

He sighs. “I’ll take you on a tour. You haven’t seen everything yet, have you?”

The question appears much more rhetorical than literal, so you follow him out of the room. 

“The floor used to be all office space,” Jaeseop says, walking backwards as if he’s a professional tour guide. “This half hasn’t been converted yet.” He gestures to the messy sprawl of cubicles. To your surprise, that’s where Andrew and Intak are, two chairs in the same cubicle, though it looks like Intak is the only one working. 

Jaeseop avoids them and makes a beeline for the other side of the space. It’s emptier than you had thought at first glance. He introduces you to a middle-aged man, sitting at a desk, surrounded with a tidy assortment of trinkets and knick-knacks and framed photographs. It’s the polar opposite of Taein’s office.

“This is Sanghyun-nim,” he says. “He’s Taein-nim’s right-hand man. He does all the unpleasant tasks Taein-nim doesn’t want to do.”

That doesn’t seem conducive to your image of Taein. You’ve seen him do a few unpleasant tasks. You suppose those weren’t necessary for his job.

“The menial ones,” Sanghyun corrects. “You’re the new recruit. Kang Haksu-ssi.”

“That’s me,” you say, surprised by the way he recognizes you. You wonder how much Taein told everyone else, what kind of story he fed them. You doubt it was the truth. You hope you can trust him. If you can’t, it’s a little too late for that.

He seems like he could have an entire conversation with you, but Jaeseop whisks you away. “Hyekyung,” he says, of a young woman around your age, with a phone tucked on her shoulder, taking notes with her other hand. She waves in your general direction.

“Social media and marketing,” Jaeseop explains. “I wouldn’t get on her bad side. She’s really the one in charge of this entire area.”

He stops in his tracks and points across the room. You tiptoe to see what he’s trying to point out to you. A woman who looks like she should be a floor below them with the copywriters sits alone at a desk, a wide berth between her and anyone else.

 “Gyeongwon,” Jaeseop says, voice dropped to a whisper. “She doesn’t work here, but she works with Taein-nim. I wouldn’t upset her either.”

He moves on, taking quick strides across the floor to the side opposite the elevator. “The stairwell is here. Goes from the first floor up to the rooftop.”

You think he’s going to take you up the stairs—to the rooftop, maybe—but he stops. “The fourth floor is only Taein-nim’s office for now. I assume you’ve been there. The fifth floor is empty. The elevator doesn’t go up there. If you do ever go up to the rooftop, the door is always stuck.”

You try to follow along, completely overwhelmed with the amount of new names and faces and information you’re expected to now know.

Jaeseop checks the time on his phone. “Mingeun should be back by now.”

You don't have much praise for Jaeseop's tour. This time, when you open the practice room door, Mingeun is pacing. The conversation stops abruptly as you enter. Eunsu and Byeonghwi, you remember, though you can’t remember who’s who. 

Jaeseop comes to your accidental rescue. “Eunsu.” He points out the boy in the mustard-yellow uniform. “And Byeonghwi.”

Byeonghwi gives you a smile and a wave, and you’re immediately struck by how he seems genuinely happy to meet you, as if he was destined to be an idol, forever pretending and playing along with people slipping in and out of his life. Like you, you have to remind yourself. It’s a sharp contrast from the way everyone else has behaved around you. High school students are supposed to be annoying and immature, not better than you at your own fate. You try not to let it get to you.

Not long after their arrival, Intak and Andrew make their re-entrance. Andrew is in a different outfit, the type of corporate wear you’ve seen him leave in. You see your opportunity, so you take it. 

“You changed,” you observe.

“Work,” he says. “I teach English at a hagwon.”

You wonder if he’s qualified to do that, and then if the parents of the students he teaches know that their teacher is focused on being an idol and not on teaching. You should have guessed. What else could he do? 

You watch him leave. Almost as soon as the door shuts softly behind him, Intak pulls Intak to the side and speaks softly. You strain your ears to overhear, though you're drawn into Eunsu and Mingeun and Byeonghwi’s inane conversation. 

"I can't work with him," Intak is saying.

"I know," comes Jaeseop's reply. "You have to try."

"I am trying," Intak hisses. "He's the one who doesn't want to try. He thinks he can do it all by himself. He refuses to show me anything he's working on. He’s impossible."

"I know," Jaeseop says again. He says something else, but you don’t hear it, because Byeonghwi is asking you how and why you joined the company, and you have to tell him that’s not something you’re ready to talk about yet.

You watch the sun start to set out of the windows overlooking the street. They're open, but they face the wrong way and let no air in. You want to go home. Jaeseop steps out to pick up dinner. No one makes a move to leave, so you don't either.

When the sun is fully down, you meet Kiyoung. He arrives looking a bit too much like a copywriter as well. You would have mistaken him for one, had the reception to his entrance not been perfectly warm and friendly.

You learn a few more facts in rapid-fire fashion. He's the oldest of the team. He works for an environmental non-profit organization, and is refusing to quit until he finishes his current project. Before he was a Zenith Entertainment trainee, he was a trainee at another small company that went under before he could debut. He met Jaeseop when they were both in middle school and their schools double-booked the same trip location.

You exchange a few more pleasantries, and then the mood of the room shifts more towards homework than anything else, because everyone—with the exceptions of Kiyoung and Intak—are still in school. It surprises you to learn that Jaeseop is a student.

“This is my last semester,” he explains when you ask. “I don’t go to class much anymore. I’ll graduate just fine.”

You’re beginning to feel like the odd one out, so you continue your hopeless quest to catch up on all your work. You probably aren’t going to graduate. You probably aren’t even going to finish this semester.

Andrew returns later in the night, and that, for some reason, signals the end of the day. Eunsu is pressed to the glass, announcing his imminent arrival before he even steps foot in the building. Andrew’s single action upon returning to the third floor is to pick up Byeonghwi, who seems only too enthusiastic to leave. After that, it’s a free-for-all bordering on a bloodbath. You wait, because you’re new, and it’d be rude of you to be one of the first to leave.

Then it’s you and Jaeseop and Mingeun, nearly a mirror image of the morning. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Jaeseop says to you, and then in almost the same breath, “Make sure you go home, Mingeun.”

Mingeun scowls.

You nod, though you’re almost dead on your feet. You think being a private investigator might be a little easier. You aren’t sure how, but you’ll survive it. You have to. It’s the only way you can do great things.

#╰ to be written in ink is to be immortal — [ writing. ] #╰ to be written in ink is to be immortal — [ haksu. ] #ficnetfairy #fictional idol community #idolverse #idol oc #kpop oc #fake kpop group #kpop fanfic

[maymeowmoo]

New episode of Smg4?!?!?!? Well I'm inna writing mood soooooo.... Imma review/analysis and share my thoughts on the new episode >:) ["SMG4:SMG3's BOMB CAFE"] If you're bored feel free to read this overly detailed analysis of a 12:01 minute video! (Actually ~10:30ish)

Analyzing time! ^w^/

Smg3 being so happy abt his lil cafe is very cute. I did not expect Smg4 to be so goddam sassy in this episode but I like that they didn't get rid of their rivalry completely since u know, after so many years it would be odd for it to just disappear even if they have recently been bonding so much u<u

Still I couldn't help but feel a bit odd? Like idk if Four just desperately wanted Three to ask him for help w the coffee or what but DANG was he super into making Smg3's life harder. At 4:49 Smg4 basically goes screw it lets make Three more miserable and invites everyone. Like let bro learn overtime we don't need a Kirby Lunch Rush but with Smg3! Also Four's expressions? Dude is being SILLY on purpose u_u He continues his nuisance charade with 6:22 ("How can you not even have the unicorn frappucino?"). Like dang bro how abt u calm ur sass down and stop provoking Three even more? He does get a clear indication of Smg3's annoyance (8:51-8:52 Smg3 says "Shut up." to Four also stopping him from making another sassy remark) yet still continues. At 9:14 (Smg4:"So you admit you can't run a shop yet?") Four gives his snarky comment and all I can think of is how he intentionally made it harder for Three to run the dang shop. [Note: Tbh even someone who owned a shop would have a hard time with Smg4's Crew lets be fr.] Just like I said at the beginning of this paragraph I am starting to really believe Four wanted to be involved with Three somehow and the only way he knew how is by forcing conflict.

Characterization wise what surprised me is how even after two instances of Three yelling for the others to stop fighting they still continue on. Idk I just feel like they would've listened tbh. They were very... hyperactive I guess? The characters do act kinda like they should but it still felt odd to me for some reason. Eggdog as always has the best characterization tho, man do I like that silly egg thing. Anywho this wasn't the only thing that felt odd continuity wise. I would've thought Smg3 learnt to make proper coffee before he started up a cafe? Especially since he literally lived in a STARBUCKS??? Like I just think he would've idk tried making coffee before opening a cafe even if he didn't make any during his time in the Internet Graveyard. I did make up two explanations for this tho! One is that the dead memes (Specifically the funny lil knuckles) made the coffee during his time in the Internet Graveyard and the other is that he was just too anxiety/adrenaline ridden to make proper coffee. At the end of the day these things aren't huge issues for me but as I said before it did make me feel odd.

Smg4 getting called out for his sass was necessary for me to like this video so imma glad it happened and he doesn't just get away with his behavior. At 9:23 the realization of his silly shenanigans finally catch up to him and that means..... THE SMG34 PART OF THE EPISODE STARTS YEEHAW! Even though Smg4's and 3's confrontation felt just the tiny bit forced to me (probably Four's fault) it was so nice to see them being softer. I also really like how Three doesn't agree to Four's proposal without making some convoluted reasoning as to why this isn't just two pals helping each other out and is actually TOTALLY just a transactional thing. It feels really in character! Oh yeah since I need to put this somewhere at 9:47 Four is like "I want to help" and like... you made it harder and now you want to help? Better now then never tbh ^w^/

Jokes -> The joke at 2:27-2:34 made me chuckle ._. and that makes me somewhat disappointed in myself (You want it? Issa urs my friend is so real). 3:00 is also a joke I liked, it felt very relatable (I struggle with basic human stuff like buttons on a coffee machine also u_u aww man). 3:28-3:32 Decent joke! 4:12 having a Gmod Three bang the coffee machine was good but the sudden Pomni/Smg4 reaction wasn't for me :v (It is good for Au art tho, I've seen the Smg4 as Pomni art hehe ;P ). 5:55-6:05 Nice joke ^v^/ (Smg3 writing '1 jar of poison for Mario' was the cherry on top tbh). 6:29-6:35 just like the joke at three minutes the whole 'operating a coffee machine being like dark magic' is still funny to me. 7:35-7:38 7:45-7:46 the music that plays when the rainbow (acid) coffee is shown is cool. 8:34-8:49 The whole Tari going coo coo joke is honestly pretty unfunny ._. I did not like it :v. 10:44-10:45 'Cleaned up everything!' is such a funny pop up to put here. Joke APPROVED!

Joke wise I think this episode is actually quite solid. The one joke I really didn't like kinda puts it down but ignoring that issa cool ig :D (6,8/10)

Closing statement -> Dude Four on roller skates working at a cafe for Three? THIS IS JUST A FANFIC AT THIS POINT... and I am all for it ;D

[Note: I have no idea why I wrote this but I felt like it sooooo... YEAH! >:3 If you have any thoughts abt this ep I'd love to hear em ;o]

#smg4 #supermarioglitchy4 #smg4 smg3s bomb cafe #analysis #anons_C.A.R

[ughmyreality]

Thoughts on S3 E2

(SPOILERS ahead)

There might be positives, there will be negatives, so please be forewarned that I am not going to solely praise the show. Also, it needs not be mentioned, I am but a single negative person on the internet talking about a fictional story. We are all not going to agree. With that said, let’s move on.

Episode 2-

They really did their thing saying diamonds aren’t the only things that sparkle and then cutting to Eloise. 

How fake can a person get? Actively listening to your crush plan the downfall of your alter ego. Penelope girl.

This scene just further proves that Colin and Penelope were never that great of friends. Why would Colin ask to see how she acts out in public if they were already friends? He should already know that. I also don’t see why he’s acting as though he doesn’t already know how “awkward” she is, anybody can see it. Then again when is he ever home to see it?

“Not me. Them.” Penelope, dearest, I beg of you find a man who actually wants you. He yet again practically threw it in her face that he doesn’t want her. How much rejection can she take?

On another note, I love how they’re doing Penelope’s hair. At least she’s leveling up in one way or another.

I love the fact that lady Danbury is gossiping as usual.

Portia’s disappointment at the lack of an heir is enjoyable. Hopefully they’ll continue with this storyline.

I thought that Benedict was going to be the cliche “lady’s man” but it appears that Colin has his way with women as well. Not as if we could have possibly known this sooner because what have we learned of him up until this point.

I actually agree with what Colin is saying about societal expectations. With new people, you get the chance to rediscover yourself. Even just the jump from, let's say, high school to college, I think you may change because you’re free to reinvent yourself. However, if I’m thinking correctly, this is not his first adventure. Correct? So, what about this trip in particular made him so “different”.

Why did Penelope think she was so sly saying “before we are noticed”? For an area so enthralled with gossip, no one else is noticing that Colin and Penelope are spending more time together and walking side by side. We haven’t seen them in a public area holding even a fraction of a true friendly conversation but now that they are no one bats an eye.

Colin is finally interacting with his siblings but ditches them the moment someone else arrives.

How tone deaf can Colin get? Penelope all but proclaimed her love for him to the rooftops but his first idea is to have her “pretend” to flirt with him. Even worse, I don’t think he’s doing this with malice, but at the same time it’s sending me into a rage. 

Since when does Penelope Featherington say “nothing at all”? Yeah right.

Ugh, this clip! Your eyes are the most remarkable shade of blue… girl, she’s a writer. I’m sure they could have come up with something better for her to say than some chatgpt poetry line. The second hand embarrassment, and as usual Colin wasn’t for her advances.

Colin should have known better than to bring Penelope to the house. I know he claims that Eloise was out but it is their house after all. He apparently had no clue what time they’d be back and was just hoping for the best.

Give me strength! Why does Penelope keep on digging further into Colins business? She never likes what she finds. Her reading Colin’s writing is not only a breach of privacy to the man she claims to want but also only serves as yet another way to humiliate herself. How much longer can this go on? The man honestly doesn’t want her but she still subjects herself to such torment.

I literally started laughing out loud when Colin found her reading! Oh my gosh! The strife!

Another nitpick, I feel like there was way too much blood on Colin’s hand for that small piece of glass. Then that loose tie Penelope put around it probably wouldn’t stop the bleeding. But I’m sure no one else cares about that, so I won’t go any further. 

 Colin knows that Penelope and Eloise don’t want to see each other and that should really be enough. Him trying to act oblivious and say he doesn’t know what happened is irrelevant to the situation. Penelope didn’t want to stay in the house, Eloise doesn’t want her there so why is Colin trying to instigate.

He was quick to shut down Eloise at the mere thought of Penelope seeking him as a husband. At times I feel like Colin doesn’t like her at all much less as a romantic interest. When you’re friends with someone there are obviously certain things you like about them, maybe even things you would seek in a partner. However, Colin seems repulsed at the thought of Penelope. Even when he’s trying to “help her” he doesn’t seem that excited. He acts like they are but acquaintances. On another note, I feel like his voice is so monotone, but that's neither here nor there I suppose.

I feel like Penelope has had more positive chemistry with Lord Remington in this one scene than I have seen with her and Colin this entire time.

Why does Colin automatically assume Eloise told everyone about him “helping” Penelope. They weren’t exactly making it hard to see that they had been talking more than usual. I don’t know why he is blindly taking Penelope’s side. He has no idea what's going on and you’d think he’d hold some sort of solidarity with his sister. I feel absolutely no sympathy for Penelope, girl go ahead and cry. She should have ditched Colin, she knew this was a bad idea from the start. 

Although I like Eloise, Cressida lowkey told her what she needed to hear. Yet again a Bridgerton jumping to conclusions. Both Eloise and Penelope are hypocritical for commenting on Cressida’s tendency to gossip when it appears that’s all they do. 

…never before have I felt this close to being on the brink of insanity. PENELOPE! I wish she’d understand that you cannot simply do the same thing over and over. How many more ways can one profess their unrequited love before they move on? You know what her claiming she doesn’t want to die before being kissed gives me the vibes of? Exes that say if you leave me, I’ll die or I’ll harm myself. That is absolutely so manipulative. Time and time again Colin has shown no interest in her that she has had to resort to the possibility of hypothetical death. I’m surprised this hasn’t been more cause of contention. This kiss means absolutely nothing. If anything it is discrediting any sort of “cute friends to lovers” storyline that could have been. This is nothing more than a guilt trip.

#anti penelope featherington #anti polin #thoughts

[hollywoodxwhore]

Mine | Chapter Fifteen

Colson x Original Female Character

Synopsis: Presley may look sinful on the outside, but deep down, she's innocent, guarded, and terrified of intimacy. Colson, on the other hand, is living up to his womanizer reputation as a way to cope with heartbreak. When his new guitarist invites his twin sister to join them on tour, Colson discovers that he's actually capable of feeling. Will Presley and Colson be able to push past all of the barriers trying to prevent them from happening?

Content/Warnings: very brief mentions of smut, swearing, the sappiest fluffiest shit you've ever read

Tag List: @triplexdoublex @jaxbreaker @mgklove99xx @jinx-on-mars-19xx @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @missamericanaxx @anonymousme86 @whiteleoqueen @feroniakutenpuu

And with that, Mine has come to an end. I cannot thank you all enough for reading this and showing me so much love and positive feedback. I loved every second of writing this fic and I'm not ready to be done with it. That being said...

OURS COMING SOON! You all asked for more smut and more Presley and Colson cuteness, so @triplexdoublex had the idea of writing a second series that follows Presley and Colson in their new life together living in LA. You can expect smut and fluff, minor angst (unless I decide I need some. Ya girl loves writing angst). Serious shoutout to Roxy for the title idea and the idea to write a second series! I can't wait to see what y'all think of it. Thanks again for all the love you've shown Mine. Enjoy this last chapter!

Colson

It’s the last night of the tour and I couldn’t be happier.

Our biggest tour yet. A new guitarist who we all love. And the best part for me – the girl waiting backstage for me to finish performing so she can jump into my arms. 

It’s become our little routine since we’ve been ‘out of hiding’ from our friends. The world doesn’t know yet, and we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. But every time I come offstage, Pres is there, and she jumps into my arms, wrapping her long limbs around me, and I swear, nothing makes me happier than kissing her and holding her in front of our friends, showing everyone how happy I am. 

Cash came around quickly. He and I are closer than ever, and all of the tension has melted away. These past couple of weeks have been a great time, and I’m a little disappointed that the tour is ending. But now, Presley and I can figure out our lives, and that makes me really excited. 

After our encore, we leave the screaming crowd behind and head backstage. My eyes search for her immediately, almost frantically, and there she stands, intent on taking my breath away. 

She wears her hair in twin buns, soft tendrils of her black hair framing her face, and she wears leather pants (my favorite) with boots and a crop top. Her face lights up when she sees me and I open my arms. She grins wider and runs to me, throwing herself into my arms. I grin widely as I snuggle her, supporting her weight with my arms tucked beneath her butt. 

“You did so good!” she gushes, and her breath smells like bubblegum. I shiver a little, fighting the way my dick already wants to harden in my pants. 

“I love you,” I mumble into her neck, pressing  a kiss to her skin.

“I love you, too,” she says, resting her head against mine. “I’m so proud of you, baby.” I smile, heart bursting. 

“Yo, Kells, Presley,” Sam calls. “Can I take some pictures?”

“Hell yeah,” I say. Pres pulls back from the hug a little and I raise a brow questioningly. She nods, smiling, and presses her cheek to mine as we face Sam. We smile and then he takes one of us kissing. I let her down onto the floor and she hugs my waist for another picture. We fit so perfectly together. Suddenly, I want the world to know. I want to post those pictures on the internet for everyone to see, so everyone knows I’m spoken for. 

Arm around Presley’s shoulder, we head back to my dressing room where I strip out of my sweaty clothes and go into the adjoining bathroom for a quick shower. I’m sweaty as hell, and we’re going out tonight. Presley sits on the couch with her phone while I shower. 

I’m singing in the shower, so fucking happy with my life. Once I’m done, I towel off and then head over to my girlfriend. She lifts her eyes from her phone and drags them from my head to my feet. Jade eyes darken and her pretty lips quirk into a little smirk. It sends a shiver through me and I give the base of my cock a squeeze, gulping. Not now. Everyone’s eager to go out. Maybe I can sneak her into the bathroom again.

Presley giggles with satisfaction and sits back, looking at her phone again. Flustered, I quickly get dressed in a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt, sliding into my Vans. “You ready?” I ask, and she nods, getting to her feet. I offer my hand and she takes it, but when she starts to leave the room, I tug her back into my chest. My arm goes around her waist and I rock her slightly, looking down at her. She softens immediately and smiles up at me.

“Hey, pretty girl,” I murmur. 

“Hey,” she says, cheeks pink with pleasure. I smile and lean down to kiss her softly, slowly. She sighs and presses on her toes to get closer, her hands going to the back of my neck. “Mm, do we have to go out?” she asks against my lips.

I chuckle. To be honest, I don’t really want to go out. Pres, Cash, Olivia, and I leave tomorrow to head back to Michigan. We’re going to help Presley get packed and Cash is going to be able to grab a few more things to bring back with him to LA. I want a good fuck and a good night’s sleep before that happens, but it’s the last night of the tour, and it’s tradition. I sigh and she nods, resolved. 

“I promise we’ll have so much time just the two of us,” I say, twisting my fingers gently around the strands of hair framing her face. Fuck, I want to grab one of those buns while I’m behind her– “With the tour ending, it’s all us, baby.” I interrupt my own dirty thought process, knowing how easy it would be to hole up in the hotel with my girl. 

“Alright, let’s go,” she mutters, and I bite my cheek to stop a grin. She’s cute when she pouts. 

We leave the dressing room and go out to one of the waiting cars, climbing into the back. As we settle in and the driver takes off, my phone vibrates and I pull it from my pocket. It’s Sam. Thought you might want these bro! See ya later! I scroll up slightly and my chest warms. They’re the pictures of me and Pres backstage.

“Hey,” I say, tapping her thigh. “Look.”

She leans into me, looking over my shoulder, and smiles. “Aw, those are so cute!” she gushes. “Send them to me!”

“Can I post one of them?” I blurt. 

Presley looks surprised, lips parting a little as she looks up at me. “You…you’re ready for that?” I nod, studying her expression. “Are you…not?”

Presley considers, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth. Then, slowly, she nods, meeting my eyes again. “I think so,” she says. “I mean, I don’t want to hide us.”

I grin and lean in for a kiss. “Me neither,” I agree. “I want the world to know you’re mine.”

Pres grins and nuzzles into my shoulder, giving my thigh a squeeze. “I love you, ya big sap,” she tells me, and maybe I am a sap, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s worth it for Presley. 

As we head to the bar, I take my time creating an Instagram post. My caption is all about the tour and how thankful I am for how it went. I don’t include anything about Presley in the caption, but I figure the pictures of us kissing and me holding her are enough for people to get the idea. “Can I tag you?” I ask, and she nods. I add the tags, scroll through the photo set once more, and take a deep breath.

“You sure about this?” I ask her.

“Positive,” she says. “If you are.”

With that, I hover my thumb over the post button and then tap. 

XX

By the time our flight lands in Detroit the following evening, all four of us are running on fumes. 

It’s late and the airport isn’t very busy, so it’s easy enough to grab our luggage and find our way to where Presley and Cash’s parents are waiting for us. I’m a little nervous about meeting them for the first time, especially with how exhausted I am, but I’m excited, too. Presley is my future, and I want to know her parents. 

We walk outside into the frigid, early December air and immediately, Cash starts laughing. He drops his bags and jogs over to a waiting car where a tall woman with short, black hair hops out of the car with open arms. Presley runs over, too, and an even taller man circles the car with a grin identical to Presley’s. 

“There’s my girl,” he says and catches Presley as she throws herself into his arms. He kisses her cheek and I can’t help but smile. I follow her as Cash introduces Olivia to his mom, waiting a bit anxiously. Presley lets go of her dad and turns to me, putting a hand on my back. 

“Dad, this is Colson,” she says, looking up at me lovingly. “Colson, this is my dad, David.”

“Colson,” her dad says, reaching out a hand. I take it and shake it firmly. “It’s so great to finally meet you.” He pulls me in for a hug and I’m surprised but relieved. “Thank you for being so great to my kids.”

“My pleasure,” I tell him. He pulls back and gestures for his wife to join us. 

“Colson, this is my mom, Scarlett. Mom, Colson.”

Presley’s mom is just as gorgeous as her kids and she smiles brightly when she sees me. “Wow, you’re even cuter in person,” she says, stepping forward to hug me.

“Mom!” Presley hisses, embarrassed, but I just snicker. 

“Oh, Pres,” her mom tuts, reaching out to fix a loose piece of her daughter’s hair. “I’m old, not blind.”

“What do you expect?” David says. “We send our kids on tour with a band and they come back with beautiful partners.”

“Exactly,” Scarlett says, wrapping an arm around Cash. 

“Can we go now?” Presley asks around a yawn. “I’m about to fall asleep standing up.”

“You got it,” David says, going back around to the driver’s seat. We all pile into the SUV, Presley and I taking the far back. My legs are squished and I’m so tired my eyes burn but I don’t even care. I’m so happy right now I could burst. 

Presley looks over at me once her dad starts driving, and her smiles is so affectionate and loving that it turns my heart to mush in my chest. I wrap an arm around her and tug her close, pressing my lips to her forehead. “I love you,” I murmur, loud enough so only she can hear over the other conversations happening in the car.

“I love you, too,” she replies quietly, resting her head on my shoulder. 

Before I know it, we’re pulling into an apartment complex. Presley straightens, which tells me that this is her apartment complex. We’re at her home. David parks in front of a building and he and Scarlett both hop out to help us get our things. 

“We’ve got it,” I assure them, but Scarlett shakes her head.

“I insist,” she says. “I know you kids are exhausted.”

I can’t argue there.

We say our goodbyes to Cash and Olivia, and then Presley leads the way up to her second story apartment, unlocking the door. She flicks on a light and immediately, I love it here. It’s so Presley. 

“Alright,” Scarlett says, wrapping an arm around Presley. “We’ll see you tomorrow for dinner, right?”

“Right,” Presley says, hugging her mom. “Thank you so much for the ride, you guys.”

“Of course,” David says, giving her a squeeze. 

“Yes, thank you so much,” I add, and Scarlett hugs me tightly.

“Thanks for taking care of our girl,” she says, and my heart warms. 

“Always,” I tell her. We share a little moment, her expression one of admiration, and then we bid her parents goodbye. 

Presley locks the door behind them and sighs heavily, slumping. “Holy shit,” she mutters. “I need to go to bed, like, five hours ago.”

I chuckle and nod. “Come on. Show me your bedroom,” I insist. 

She flicks off the light and uses her phone flashlight to illuminate the way. She flicks on her bedroom light which is somehow wired to be from a lamp rather than the overhead fixture. “Wow,” I say as I look around. No wonder she never wanted to leave the house.

Her bed looks like the comfiest bed I’ve ever seen in my life, full of well broken-in pillows and soft blankets. The decorations are tasteful and comforting, and it smells sweet, just like Presley. I come up behind her and wrap my arms over her shoulders, squeezing her. “I like your room,” I tell her.

“Me too,” Presley agrees. “I love my room. I love my bed.”

“Yeah, that looks like an amazing bed.”

Pres turns in my arms and wraps her arms around my neck. “Let’s get ready for bed,” she says, giving me a kiss. I nod and let her go. 

Ten minutes later, after brushing our teeth and taking off most of our clothes, Presley’s fan is on and we’re snuggling up under her blankets. It’s a little cold in here; Presley had the heat turned down to save on energy, but the bed is warm and so is Presley. I snuggle up to her, pulling her back to my chest, and sigh, closing my stinging eyes. 

“Thanks for letting me come home with you,” I murmur, kissing her shoulder.

Presley hums. “Thanks for coming with me,” she says sleepily. “I love you,” she adds after a moment.

“I love you,” I agree, smiling. Minutes later, we’re asleep in her bed, and it excites me knowing her nights here are limited. Soon, we’ll be falling asleep together in our bed. 

Presley

Leaving home is going to be bittersweet. There’s no doubt about that.

As Colson and I drive into the city to my shop, I can’t help but take my fill of my surroundings. I’m going to miss all the pine trees, the heavy snow. I’ll miss my quiet apartment complex with its pool and its noisy air conditioner. I’ll miss being so close to my parents. But honestly, that’s about it. 

I’m not sad about leaving the tattoo shop. I loved it here and it served its purpose, but I’m ready to move on. I used my job as a way to hide from life, and I’m not interested in hiding anymore. I want to embrace my life, to enjoy my twenties with the man I love in a city I love. 

Colson’s hand rests on my jean-clad thigh as we drive into the city. He stares out the window the entire time. “It reminds me a lot of home here,” he says. “Cleveland.”

“Yeah?” I ask. “How so?”

Colson shrugs. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Just does. It’s nice.”

“Do you miss it?” I ask, glancing over at him.

Colson nods. “I do,” he says. “I mean, I’m happy to be out of there, don’t get me wrong. But I do miss simpler times.”

“That makes sense,” I reply.

“Are you going to miss it here?” he asks.

“Not really,” I admit. “I’ll miss my parents. But otherwise, I’m not really sad to be leaving this behind.”

Colson looks over at me and smiles, and I steal a glance at his gorgeous face, cheeks pink from the cold. “Good,” he says. He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. 

I pull into the tattoo shop and park in my usual spot in the back lot. No one knows I’m coming today, but it’s a Sunday, so I know several artists will be here, as well as the other piercer. I lead the way inside, Colson’s hand in mine, and Emmy behind the front desk spots me first.

She gasps. “Presley!” she says, hurrying around from behind the desk to hug me. “Oh my god! You’re back!”

“Hey, Emmy,” I say, smiling as I hug her. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Wait, Pres is here?” Derek appears from his room and opens his arms for a big bear hug. 

“Hey,” I tell him. “It’s so good to see you guys.”

“You too,” Derek says. He raises a brow. “Um, Presley?” he asks.

“Yes?” I ask, pulling away to study his face curiously.

“Did you bring Machine Gun Kelly into our tattoo shop?” he asks, his eyes on Colson.

I grin widely and go over to my boyfriend, wrapping my arm around his waist. “I sure did,” I say. “Emmy, Derek, meet Colson. My boyfriend.”

Emmy’s eyes widen. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“Shit, we heard the rumors but I didn’t know it was true!” Derek says. “That’s awesome, Pres! Welcome to the shop, man.” He reaches out a hand and Colson shakes it.

“Thanks, man,” he says. “It’s dope as fuck here.”

“We like it,” Emmy says. 

“Is that Presley?” Blaze calls. I can hear the sound of his tattoo gun buzzing.

“Sure is!” I call. “Come say hi when you have a break!”

“She brought Machine Gun Kelly with her!” Derek calls, and I stifle a laugh.

“No she didn’t!” Blaze calls.

“Come see for yourself!” 

Blaze’s machine turns off and he appears around the corner, peeling off his gloves. He freezes mid step when he sees Colson, and Emmy, Derek, and I burst into laughter. “Hey, B,” I greet.

Blaze looks shocked as he hugs me. “Holy shit,” he says, reaching out to shake Colson’s hand. “Welcome, dude. It’s so cool to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Colson says, smiling. I know he’s wary about meeting new people. Not everyone has a very positive opinion of my boyfriend, even if their opinions are unfounded. But I know Blaze is a fan. He played Tickets almost every single day in the shop when he found out Cash was going on tour with them. 

Gracen appears from the back and her eyes are wide. “I heard Machine Gun Kelly was here,” she says. “Oh, and you too, Presley.”

“Bitch,” I say with a grin, and my other piercer smiles widely as she hugs me. “It’s good to see you.”

“You back for good?” she asks. “Because no offense, but I’m making good ass money.”

“Keep on making it,” I say. “I’m moving to LA.”

“What?” Emmy and Blaze say in unison.

“Shit, Pres, that’s awesome,” Derek says with a grin. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Can I come visit?” Emmy asks. 

“Of course. Is anyone else here?” I ask.

“Sadie,” Emmy says. Sadie is who I brought with me to the show. She’s another tattoo artist here. “She’s finishing up right now. Should be out soon.”

“Taking care of our girl?” Gracen asks Colson, a stern look on her face.

Colson chuckles and nods, looking over at me. “Doing my best,” he says.

I smile and wrap my arm around his waist again. “To be honest, I’ve never been happier,” I say. My friends all look delighted for me, and a part of me is a little sad to be leaving them. Colson drops a kiss to the top of my head and I know I’ve made the right choice to move in with him. 

“Well, I just came to get some of my stuff and say hi and bye to you all,” I say. 

“Damn,” Derek says, shaking his head. “How life has changed.”

“It certainly has,” I agree. 

We all chat for a while longer, and after goodbye hugs all around, Colson and I leave the shop. We spend the rest of the day packing up my apartment with the help of Cash, Olivia, and my parents, and with all of us working together, we get everything packed. Most of it is going to my parents’ house, but some of it is coming to LA with us. 

We eat dinner at my parents’ house, watch movies together, stay up late talking, and finally, Colson and I retire to my old bedroom. The bed is far too small for us, but we don’t mind snuggling so we can both fit. We had very sneaky and hopefully very quiet sex, and now we’re lying naked in bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. I’ve never been so happy in my entire life.

“Are you ready to leave tomorrow?” Colson asks me, his fingertips stroking lightly up and down my arm. 

I nod. “Yeah. I am,” I say. “It’s bittersweet, like I said, but I’m ready to start a new life with you.”

Colson smiles against my hairline. “Can’t wait,” he says. “My house is so lonely with just me living there. It’ll be nice to have you with me.”

I smile and press a kiss to his chest. “I can’t believe this is real.”

“Me neither,” Colson agrees. “I never thought anything like this would happen. Thought I’d be alone forever.”

“Me too.” I trace one of the tattoos on his chest. “You sure you’re ready for a lifetime of this?”

Colson smiles and kisses my lips. “Yeah, Pres. I’m positive.” 

In less than 24 hours, we’re standing in the doorway of Colson’s house, now my house, too. The sprawling staircase that leads up to our bedroom is welcoming. A gigantic sectional in the living room promises endless days of reading and snuggling. The pool in the backyard tempts us to go for a late night swim. And even though I haven’t even officially moved in yet, this feels like home.

Colson wraps his arms around my waist and rests his chin on my head. “I love you, Presley,” he says. “Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

“I love you, too,” I say happily, covering his hands with my own. “Man. I can’t believe this is even real life.”

“Look around, baby,” Colson says, rocking me in his arms, reminding me that I’m home. “This is all ours.”

#machine gun kelly #mgk #colson baker #machine gun kelly fanfic #mgk fanfic #colson baker fanfic #machine gun kelly x ofc #mgk x ofc #colson baker x ofc

[kyluxtrashpit]

So I really want to get another cat. Thing is, there’s several reasons why it’d be a good idea (boy has a playmate, I think my ideal number of cats is 2, and give a kitty in need of a home a nice one) but also a lot of reasons I know it’s not a good idea *right now*

First reason is I’m not sure I’m fully ready for it. There’s still a part of my brain that hopes that this new new cat (I’m gonna need another system when I do get one lmao) would act more like old cat and I’ve had enough pets to know that’s a red flag that means you’re not ready yet. It just leads to disappointment when your new pet doesn’t behave like the old one when they were never going to, every animal is a unique individual and no two will give the same experience even when they are similar. And I know this. But the heart still wants

Also two cats, especially when one is brand new to the living situation and is still adjusting, is more work than one and for several reasons my energy lately has been pretty low. So. Am I up for that right now? I’m not sure. I’m sure I could rise the occasion if it’s needed, but like. Would it be a good idea to put myself into that situation at the moment? I’m not sure it would be. Even if I do miss having two cats a lot

There’s also the matter of living situation. Last year I was hoping to move, as I’m getting to the point in my life where it is time to Purchase a living space instead of rent. Which is terrifying tbh lmao, but it is a thing none the less. Plus I just really want a bit more space at this point, and certain conveniences (oh how I long for my own laundry devices) that I don’t currently have. But with old cat, that just didn’t end up being in the cards cause my babies are always my priority above all else (the financial hit also didn’t help - I’m only just recovering from it now). I was simply not going to move while she was old and fragile and dying of cancer

However, my province also sucks! And it recently decided it’s gonna suck even more! Not as much as most of the US, at least not yet, but. It’s not promising. And the long term prospects are also Not Great (both in terms of social things and economically as well like, things are probably going to get worse long before they get better, if they ever do get better). And my city isn’t *the worst* but it’s more expensive than ideal. So it’s like. Do I want to buy a place here? I don’t know. But do I want to move out of this province? I also don’t know

Cause moving adds a lot of factors, even if I stay in the same province but look at a cheaper city. And leaving the province, okay, which to go to? This one’s nice but expensive and has weather I don’t like, and that ones cheap but also there’s a decent risk things will get worse there politically. And then there’s a risk the whole country will get fucked politically next year but I am doing my utmost to not worry about it until it is actually an immediate problem

And then there’s factors like, all the people I know are here (even if I’m bad at seeing them a lot). Familiar grocery stores and restaurants, other amenities, hell, my internet company is not fully national last I checked - will I have to switch providers? Work isn’t an issue as I work from home and we have people in multiple provinces, but like. Literally everything else is. I’ve lived here my entire life. I don’t know what it would be like to move that far. I’ve never done it

(And there’s also like. A sort of political responsibility. I read a lot after the shitty thing was announced and like. Some people are leaving. Some are staying because fuck you, bigots will not drive me from me home, I will fight back. Some are staying because they can’t afford to leave. And some are staying because if everyone who can leave does leave, then who’s left to at least try to fight this shit for those at risk who can’t get out? Especially as while I’m not in the demographic currently at risk, I’m in an adjacent one so it’s like. No, I’m not at risk yet but it’s possible I will be some day, but I also do feel some level of responsibility to try to help those who are currently at risk because I’m not)

And my dad is planning to leave (though unclear how firm that plan is right now and unclear exactly where) and is like ‘well come with me’ and I’m gonna be honest I. Don’t really want to like. I’m in my 30s. There is a part of me that feels like it’s time to get a bit more space from my family. My mom moved already for other reasons, so I don’t physically see her often, but technology is a thing so. Quite frankly my parents are both really bad at having friends so being literally the only person one of them knows in an entire city is kind of a nightmare scenario for me lmao. I need my space. I get annoyed when I get texted too often, I am NOT going to be your sole social contact. And I know that’s what would happen if we both moved to the same place with no one else. And even without all that, we have differences of opinions in “ideal place to live” so. I know they’re (dad goes by they/them) going to try to pressure me but if I’m sure of anything, it’s that I don’t want that

And, to circle this all back, there is also my kitty boy: he does NOT travel well. At all. He has panic attacks in the car that leave him panting and screaming within about 1 minute of being in there. We are trying to work on it, given transport is important for vet visits, but progress is slow. I was thinking he might have to get the old gaba just for me to be able to move within the city. He’s an anxious little guy. It’s gonna be tough for him, both the general realities of moving and the driving to the new place part. And I originally wasn’t really thinking of moving anywhere out of a 20 min or so radius of where I currently live partly for that reason

So to move to another province (and please remember Canada is Huge, like, this would be several hours or even multiple days of driving), I don’t know if I can even do that in a way that’s safe for him. Drugs are an option, but depending on where, it could be an unfeasibly long drive to do that with. And god, planes, I can only imagine how much worse he would be on a plane (even though I’d NEVER let him ride in the cargo, I’d buy an extra seat if I had to). He could have a stress-induced heart attack and die and if this is in transit, I’d be powerless to save him and I’d have to live the rest of my life knowing I killed him

And so with all of that, I’m like. I really can’t get another cat until I know wtf I’m doing and implement that because it would be awful for the new kitty if I got them and then immediately moved somewhere, either close or far. I can’t do that, it would be cruel. So like. Idk, I just don’t know what to do

I’m also aware that like. There are two problems in this ramble and the one I opened with is not really the larger one lmao but like. Genuinely I do not know what to do and that’s scary so I’m just kinda frozen here thinking how nice it would be to have a second floof gallivanting around the apartment but also knowing I can’t really have that right now (unless the cat distribution system decides to give me no choice in the matter lmao but I’m not expecting that to happen)

#this is a long ramble but I am just #I really don’t know what to do #and I’m trying my best to just. idk ignore it for now and hope something will happen #that will make the decision obvious #but right now I just don’t know #so. ramble time lmao #cause even though it’s a low key anxiety by my standards #it’s just kinda sitting in the back of my head at all times and I just feel stuck tbh #and I really really do want to get another cat #but I can’t make that decision until everything else is sorted and I’m mentally ready so #I cannot have another fluffy baby yet :( #I’ve had this drafted for a while but I’ve been thinking about it off and on for like. months honestly #text #misc #shut up nerd

[godlesslittlecreatures]

Creature’s Petyr x Catelyn Masterlist, Part I

I've read it all...so you don't have to. 

I was delighted to get back on this app and find that there was demand for something like this. Even in the time since I started compiling this list, I've seen a few other lists going around, which makes my previously-closeted-PxC-shipper heart fucking sing. Y'all, I am not exaggerating when I say I very well may have read every single fic ever written for this pairing. That's both a fool's errand and impossibly easy considering the sheer lack of content, as I'm sure you know yourself if you're reading this post. 

I have stirred the dust at the very edges of the internet in my desperate, months-long search for quality content for this pairing. And believe me you, I'm no stranger to the disappointment of seeing something tagged "Petyr Baelish/Catelyn Tully Stark" (I encounter this issue more on AO3 than anywhere else, really), only for it either be an ancillary detail of the story, straight up nonconsensual, or an attempt by a butthurt ficwriter to punish two characters that so many people in the fandom seem to, at best, grievously misunderstand. Mistagging has caused me many an hour of eventual disappointment and cost me many a precious hour of my life that I will never get back.

But, even after wading chin-deep in all the shit this fandom has to offer, I have found gold. I'm here to prove it exists, if you only know where to look.

But Creature, what makes a fic good? How do you ascribe worth to something so subjective?

I've been told I'm a harsh critic, but this is less about literary merit than it is assessing quality as it pertains to the ship. Of course, many of these DO have some kind of literary merit, or, at least, are enjoyable to read. I grade a fic based on the following rubric, let's call it the Four Commandments of Petelyn Fic :

any acts of a sexual nature MUST - and I cannot stress this enough - be consensual. Do what you do, write what you write - I'm not here to police anyone's work. But don't put a pairing in the ship tag if anything that would earn it that slash between the characters' names is happening against either party's will. I simply will not read it. 

Petyr and Catelyn must have AT LEAST 2 face-to-face, one-on-one conversations. If you're going to use that damn slash, it doesn't have to be the principal element of the story, but it better feature in the foreground of the story, at least. It cannot just be a background detail that's mentioned once, off-handedly, at the end of a 63 chapter fic (true story, y'all). Better yet, it should have significant bearing on the plot, not unlike the way the relationship between the two does in canon - but that's a tall order, apparently. 

I alluded to this earlier. As an extensions of the first tenet - I do not want to feel the heat of the writer's hatred for the two characters through the story. So, SO often will people throw this pairing into some kind of canon divergent something or another and thrust them into each other's arms as a punishment for their Crimes in canon. Cat is Big Mean to Jon, so she gets the boot from Ned and ends up with Caricature of Petyr Who Lacks Any And All Nuance That Made The Character Interesting In The First Place to pay for Her Sins. I'm reading a fic because I like the characters, and I like the idea of them together (or, in many a case, him pining after her), not to stand beside someone on their moral high ground as they punish the two with each other. Again, not here to police anyone's work, so if you hate them both and want to take them to task by forcing them into some kind of relationship, be my guest! But don't expect to find your fic listed here. 

I have my own personal preferences (submissive Petyr, as I am not attracted to dominant men and genuinely don't think he would fill the dominant role in this relationship; I'll always prefer to read something requited, but that's even rarer a find; I'm not entirely crazy about AUs but can make exceptions, etc.) but I am trying to keep this as objective as possible. This list includes a pretty wide range of stuff, all of which I've enjoyed enough to reread at least once.

This may all seem like it goes without saying, but you'd be surprised. 

My credentials? A degree in TV and Film. I've read the books, and have studied the first three seasons of Thrones so closely that if I close my eyes I can watch full scenes in my head. I've been writing fic, fiction, television, and short films for 12 years, and reading and watching for nearly twice as long. And, most importantly, I'm a feral goblin who is batshit insane over these two. 

This list features fic from every corner of the internet - AO3, Tumblr, Live Journal. I unfortunately have been very hard-pressed to find anything that suits my fancy on FF.net, but if anybody has any recommendations (in line with the above), I intend for this list to be a living document.

And no, before anyone asks, I do NOT ship Petyr and Sansa. Respectfully, please keep that far the fuck away from me.

So, without further ado, here's a list of a very picky Petyr x Catelyn girlie's favorite fics.

An EXCELLENT starter kit. This is a three-part series that's currently updating. There are other things going on outside of them, but the relationship is essential to the story, thanks to the Cat POV chapters. This was the gateway drug for me way back when I still felt shame for shipping these two, and I love it still to this day. I love this series so much that, when I received the update notification for a particular Catelyn chapter in the middle of my college graduation, I dropped everything to read it. It moves fast, the political landscape is explored thoroughly, the divergence from canon is both plausible and interesting, and if you're not into smut, it's pretty fade-to-black.

Another one I read just after I'd taken the plunge down the rabbit hole. This is a notable exception to my general aversion to AUs - it works here, the real-world transpositions are not only believable, but clever! It features some pretty complex and subversive relationships between the characters; the PxC is certainly a critical, foreground element, but not always in the most immediately obvious way. Definitely had me Giggling and Kicking My Feet throughout. Refreshing is certainly a word. Obligatory smut advisory on this one, though.

Yes, I know, but hear me out. If you want to sample the best of the PxC wares the internet has to offer, you're gonna have to get down and dirty with Google's 'translate website' feature. This one is WORTH IT. I still tear up every time I read this. I have a particular soft spot for it because it reminds me of a short film I wrote/directed in college about my own experience with rejection and first love.

I believe this one is locked (meaning it requires an AO3 account to access), but making an account is both free and worth it. Yes, I know Winds is never coming out, but in my own delulu canon, this is it, this is the book. End series. Roll credits. 

Short as hell, you get the idea, but still fade-to-black if smut isn't your thing. It's hard to find good, dirty fic for this pairing. I do not currently have the mental bandwidth to be the change I wish to see in the world, but I will gladly support anyone with more patience than I.

Another locked one...oh no, I guess you'll just have to make an account.

Locked, again, but you know the drill. I believe it's by the same writer as the above. Always haunted by things that invoke Ewan McGregor's line in Moulin Rouge! - "thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love."

Not PWP but smut with themes, a favorite subgenre of mine.

Wholesome fluff to temper the fires of the above.

I think this may have been the very first one I ever read. Short and sweet, I revisit it pretty often.

Unfortunately, Tumblr only lets me add ten links at a time, so this is Part I of a multi-part series. I'll keep this post pinned at the top of my blog and add a link to succeeding parts in the comments.

I intend for this to be a living document - if you have any recommendations, my inbox is always open. Happy reading, my fellow PxC shippers :)

#petyr x catelyn #petyr baelish #catelyn tully #petelyn #asoiaf #game of thrones #aidan gillen #fanfiction #creature's petelyn fic club