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suddencolds · 6 months

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Foreign Home | [1/1]

hello!! I am back after 8 months of not-really-writing with an 8k word fic (which I cut down from 9k words). this is another OC fic w/ Vincent and Yves, who were introduced here!

anyways, this is very character-centric and establishes some things I wanted to establish about them / their world... I hope the little detour into character-development territory is okay.

Summary: Yves has told all of his friends that he's dating Vincent, so it's going to look increasingly suspicious if Vincent never shows up. Good thing Vincent is compellingly good at lying. Anyways, what could go wrong at a housewarming party? (ft. banter, fake dating, cat allergies)

—

Yves spends three weeks turning down invitations.

It’s lucky, he thinks, that he’s been able to stay in contact with so many friends from university—that so many of them have settled here, in New York. It’s less lucky considering his current circumstances:

Out of the people who made it to Margot’s New Year’s party, almost all of them remember Vincent. And—even more inconveniently—many of them seem set on inviting Yves and Vincent places.

Yves thinks up a dozen excuses. No, Vincent can’t join on our coffee outing—he’s got an important, un-reschedulable meeting with a client that Saturday. Sunday? His Sunday’s booked through until 5pm. I know, busy season is the worst to plan around. Or, I think Vincent’s going to be out for a business conference that weekend. The 22nd? I can check with him, but he’s taking a redeye flight the night before—I think he’ll be jet lagged.

The number of excuses he is capable of coming up with is unfortunately finite. Perhaps sorry, I think Vincent has an optometrist’s appointment that afternoon isn’t Yves’s best work, but he has to say something.

Really, it’s just more work to invite Vincent elsewhere—to explain that they’ve played their role as a couple a little too convincingly. That his friends all want to meet Vincent, now.

Back during his days of rowing crew, Yves has given out his fair share of relationship advice to the underclassmen, which has unfortunately—according to Margot—“cultivated an air of mystery about his personal love life.” It was always him and Erika, until it wasn’t. (Ex-matchmaker Yves and his mysterious, highly coveted new boyfriend, Leon says, when Yves complains, which is how Yves decides he will no longer be consulting Leon on the matter.)

“My friends really like you,” Yves says to Vincent, offhandedly, when he runs into him on the way back from lunch.

Vincent blinks at him.

“You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

“They really like you,” Yves says. “They want to meet you. They think we’re an interesting couple, and they keep pestering me for double dates and inviting you out to a whole bunch of events. I’m running out of excuses as to why you can’t come.”

“Oh,” Vincent says, deadpan, but there’s a slight twitch to his lips, as if he’s trying not to laugh.

“I’m dead serious,” Yves says. “I told Nora that you couldn’t make it to dinner because of an eye appointment. Now if I want to keep this up I’ll need to photoshop you with new glasses.”

“I am a little overdue for new glasses,” Vincent says.

“Not the point. Regardless, I need to keep this up until we stage a breakup.”

“A breakup?”

“A fake breakup. To our fake relationship.”

“Is there someone else you’re interested in?”

“No,” Yves says. “But I’m preemptively saving you the stress.”

“The stress of playing your boyfriend?” Vincent says. “Last time, that just entailed going to a well-organized New Year’s party. I wouldn’t consider that exceptionally stressful.”

“That’s just the beginning. Don’t tell me you want to be dragged along to every dinner party and every downtown outing and every birthday I go to in the foreseeable future,” Yves says. “On top of working 60 hours a week, you’ll have to say goodbye to your weekends.”

“So that’s why you’re plotting our breakup.”

“Yes,” Yves says. “I’d need to explain to everyone how I dropped the ball.”

“I’m sure those new glasses must’ve been the dealbreaker.”

Yves laughs. Truthfully, Vincent could wear the most terrible, unflattering glasses in the world and still manage to look like someone whom Yves wouldn’t bat an eye at upon spotting at a photoshoot. The fact that his current glasses actually complement him very well, and the fact that he knows how to dress himself is just salt to the wound. “Yes, that’s the entire reason why I dated you in the first place. The glasses.”

“If you wanted to keep our false relationship up for a couple months,” Vincent says, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Yves—who, until now, has been walking in the opposite direction of the floor on which he works—stops walking. “Pardon?”

“I like your friends,” Vincent says. “And more importantly, I don’t think it proves a point to Erika if you’ve just gotten into a relationship you couldn’t keep. So if you wanted to keep this arrangement for a little longer, I would be fine with it.”

Yves considers this.

He’s asked more than enough of Vincent already. But Vincent is right. He’s sure Erika must have her fair share of doubts about all of this—about Vincent, about their fake relationship, about its longevity. She seemed skeptical, when he’d last seen her, that Yves could’ve moved on so quickly. The worst thing about it is that he can’t blame her for that doubt. The worst thing about it is that he’d spent so much time accounting for his future with Erika that he hadn’t seen her start to slip away, hadn’t noticed the first sign of inadequacy, the first time her gaze lingered on someone else, the first time he ceased to be all that she wanted. He hadn’t steeled himself for a future without her, and now, half the time, it feels like he’s still playing catch-up.

If he wants to commit to this fake relationship, he’ll need more than one outing to show for it.

And, despite all odds, Vincent is offering just that.

“Okay,” Yves says, before he can think about how bad of an idea this is. It is really, really inadvisable. He’s sure if he weighs his options for more than a few seconds, he will come to the conclusion that he should be shutting his mouth. “If you’re sure—and only if you’re actually sure—what are your plans after work next Tuesday evening?”

“Nothing as of now,” Vincent says.

“Great. If you can make it, there’s a potluck. Joel’s hosting. He recently finished moving into a new apartment, so I think it’s something of a housewarming party. He lives a little North, past the stadium, so I think I’ll head there right after work—I can drive you.”

“That works,” Vincent says. “What kind of food does he like?”

“I’m not actually too sure,” Yves says. “I think he’s a fan of spicy food. But honestly, I think he’ll be grateful if you bring anything at all—which you don’t have to, by the way. You’re the esteemed guest, here.”

“I’m sure Joel’s new apartment is technically the esteemed guest,” Vincent says. “But I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” Yves says. “It’s a date. I’ll make it up to you in any way you want, by the way—if there’s ever an instance where you need me to lie for you, I’ll do it.”

“Duly noted,” Vincent says. For what Vincent would ever have to lie about, Yves can’t guess.

More importantly, he has a date for next Tuesday. Something about it is more exciting, even in its dishonesty, than it has any right to be.

—

It’s only a few moments after Yves presses the doorbell that Vincent emerges, holding a couple plates covered meticulously with aluminum foil.

“I haven’t cooked for anyone in awhile,” he says, a little sheepishly. “I hope this doesn’t make a bad impression on your friends.” “Are you kidding? It smells really good,” Yves says, and it does—from the doorway, he can make out the scent of sesame oil, roasted garlic, ginger. “They’ll definitely like it.”

Vincent looks off to the side. “We’ll see.” It takes a moment for Yves to properly parse his expression for what it is.

It never occurred to Yves that Vincent might actually be nervous. At work, it’s rare to see Vincent even remotely out of his element—he always volunteers to take on their more difficult clients, and even on the rare occasion that something falls out of his expertise, he picks things up quickly. Yves has seen him give presentations at conferences without a sweat, articulate as ever.

If Vincent had been nervous, those times—over prestigious conferences, over negotiations with major clients, over other difficult points of contention—it hadn’t shown. Either he wasn’t nervous at all, or he was just good at hiding it. But he’s nervous now, Yves realizes, which means—

Vincent wants to make a good impression on his friends. It won’t be his first time meeting Joel, but it’ll be his first time talking to Cherie, Joel’s fiancé, or Giselle, one of Cherie’s friends from work. Mikhail and Nora will be there too. All in all, it’s a decently sized group, but Vincent has talked to larger groups of people before without so much as a shaky voice.

Something about it—about the seriousness with which Vincent regards this whole arrangement—is strangely endearing.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Yves says, and means it in more ways than one.

—

Joel’s new apartment, as it turns out, is already decently furnished, even though Joel had sent out the invitation with the disclaimer that everything is a mess, please bear with us.

“When you said everything would be a mess,” Yves says, leaving his shoes in a line at the door, “I thought your apartment would actually be something other than spotlessly clean and well arranged.”

“It’s easy to make things look neat if you move all of the clutter into the closets,” Joel says.

“It’s just a few boxes,” Cherie says. “But it was tricky to figure out how to place things. It’s a lot more spacious than the apartment we had in college.”

“No kidding,” Yves says. “It’s a seriously nice place.” Back in their last two years of university, Joel and Cherie had gotten an apartment just a few buildings down from the apartment which Yves picked out with Mikhail—they had similar floor plans. Yves distinctly remembers the space: creaky floorboards, space heaters lined up against the walls to last them the winter; decent natural lighting, and never enough kitchen space.

Back then, he and Mikhail had had separate rooms, so their apartment became a spot in which Erika became a frequent visitor, and then, at one point, stopped visiting at all.

But that’s not the point. The point is, the apartment Joel and Cherie have picked out is much nicer than the one they’d had in college—for one, it’s more spacious, and the entire building has nice facilities and looks newer—and Cherie’s eye for interior design has only helped their cause.

“I’m glad you were able to come!” Cherie says, turning to Vincent. “Yves is always telling me about how busy you are with work.”

“He’s the one putting out all the fires,” Yves says.

Vincent smiles, extending a hand for her to shake. “Cherie, right? It’s nice to meet you. And you’re—” He turns to Joel, with a slight sniffle. “Joel. I think we met last time.”

Cherie squeezes his hand. Joel laughs and says, “I’m surprised you remember my name.”

“He’s good with names,” Yves says. An acquired skill from all the hours of networking, probably.

“That’s a useful skill to have, especially if you’re dating Yves,” Joel says. “I swear he knows everyone.” He goes on to tell a story about how, back in university, Yves almost accidentally got elected as vice president for a business club he’d only shown up to once.

At some point into the conversation, Yves ducks into the kitchen to help with setup. He sets out the dish he’s brought—salmon sliders with mango salsa—and the beef skewers that Vincent made earlier (he’s not sure why Vincent was worried in the first place, because the skewers look very competently made). After that, he busies himself with finding a way to keep everything temporarily covered until they eat.

Something soft and fuzzy winds around his ankles.

He looks down, and the soft and fuzzy thing looks back at him with pointy triangular ears. This is news to Yves.

“You guys have a cat?!” He shouts from the kitchen, vaguely in the direction where Joel and Cherie should still be standing. “Since when?”

“Since a month ago,” Joel shouts back.

“Her name is Gingersnap,” Cherie adds. “Gin for short.”

“Oh,” Yves says, kneeling down to scratch her behind the ears. His hands are a little calloused from all the snow he’s been shoveling lately, but Gingersnap purrs anyways, evidently unbothered. “What the hell, guys, now I’m never going to be able to leave your apartment. Consider me a permanent resident.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Cherie says.

At some point, Gingersnap gets up, mewing, and heads out of the kitchen, and Yves resumes life as an active contributor to the potluck’s success. When he finishes reheating everything up, setting the table, arranging the dishes, and filling up two pitchers with iced water, he wanders back out into the living room. Vincent is there, alone, except he’s not really alone, because…

Oh.

God.

He’s kneeling down, unmoving, speaking to Gingersnap in a soft, low voice, holding out a hand for her.

She approaches him, a little tentatively, and then nuzzles her orange head into the crook of his hand. Vincent smiles—a soft, private smile. “Hi, Gin,” he says.

There’s the low, lawnmower hum of a purr as Gingersnap rolls onto the ground to let Vincent continue petting her. It’s a heartwarming sight—Vincent, from the office, crouched down to pet a cat that’s smaller than his hand. Yves thinks he might cry.

Then Vincent withdraws his hand, reaches up with an arm to swipe at his eyes. Something jolts through his shoulders, a tremor so slight that Yves wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t already been watching—

“—nGkt-!”

Gingersnap mews at him, perplexed but undeterred. “Sorry,” Vincent says to her, quietly, “I’m not trying— to—” It’s all he can get out before he’s veering away again, this time with both hands tightly steepled over his nose for—

“hhIH’—GKKtt-!”

He sniffles softly, though the sniffle is immediately followed by a small, quiet cough. He reaches up with one hand to rub his nose. Yves watches his expression draw uneven, his eyebrows furrowing.

“hhIH…”

Whatever sneeze he’s fighting seems terribly indecisive—but terribly irritating—for the way he rubs his nose again, his eyes squeezing shut in ticklish anticipation.

“HhIH… hh… HH-hhH-hHIHh—”

He cups a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, and not a moment too early—

“—hIHh’iiIKKTSHh-!”His shoulders jolt forwards with the force of it, though it gives him barely a moment’s reprieve before his breath hitches again, sharply, urgently. “IiI’DSZCHuuhh-!”

“Bless you,” Yves says.

Vincent turns to blink at him. His eyes are a little red-rimmed and watering. There’s a thin flush over the bridge of his nose.

“You didn’t tell me you were allergic to cats,” Yves says, rounding the corner to close the distance between them.

“Slightly allergic,” Vincent admits, turning aside with a liquid sniffle. “It’s ndot - hhIHH-! - a big deal.”

“I didn’t know Joel and Cherie had a cat,” Yves says. “I’m sorry. I would’ve told you if they did.”

“It’s fine,” Vincent says, with a laugh. “I like her.”

“You might like her, but your body doesn’t seem to be a fan.”

“It’s a good thing that I have a consciousness, so I can codtinue petting her.” Vincent sniffles again, lifting one hand to rub his nose with his index finger. Yves does not know how to even begin to tell him what an inadvisable idea that is, but either way, he doesn’t have a chance to before Vincent’s eyes graze shut, and he turns to face away from Gingersnap before he jerks forward, catching a muffled - “Hh’GKK-t!” - into a clenched fist.

“Bless you,” Yves says. “You know, you’re really not going to make the situation any better if you keep on—”

“nNGKT-!!”

“—bless you!”

“hh—hHhih’iiKKsHHhUH!” The last sneeze is noticeably harsher than the others—it sounds loud enough to scrape against his throat, which seems to be further evidenced by the small cough that succeeds it.

“I’ll ask Joel if he has any antihistamines,” Yves says.

“It’s fide,” Vincent says.

“If you insist on spending time with Gingersnap, wouldn’t it be better to spend it without having to sneeze?”

“I would still have to sdeeze,” Vincent says, as if he’s already experienced in the matter—briefly, Yves wonders how many cats he inadvisably plays with on a frequent basis. “Just less.”

“That would be an improvement.”

Vincent looks away. “Antihistamines mbake me tired,” he says, after a little hesitation.

“It’s a good time to be tired,” Yves says. “It’s not like you have any pressing work to get done.”

“I want to make a good ibpression on your friends,” Vincent says, wiping at his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. “That’s ndot going to happen if I fall asleep halfway through dinner.”

“If you did, I’m sure no one would fault you for it.”

“I’ll take something after we finish eating,” Vincent says. “If things haved’t improved by then. ”

“Okay,” Yves relents, and—since it doesn’t seem like Vincent is leaving anytime soon—takes a seat next to him on the rug. It’s a compromise he can accept.

—

Nora gets there next, followed by Mikhail and then Giselle. It’s Yves’s first time formally meeting Giselle, who turns out to be very tall and a little intimidating—she’s come straight from work, so she’s dressed accordingly, and she talks with the sort of quiet authority that Yves knows is usually indicative of years of experience. Right before they sit down for dinner, Vincent ducks out into the bathroom—‘I need to look at least marginally presentable,’ he’d said, seeming like he was in a rush—so Yves saves him a seat at the table.

“Yves,” Giselle says, taking another salmon slider. “You made these entirely from scratch? This is delicious.”

“Thanks,” Yves says. “To be honest, it was a bit of a gamble. I wasn’t sure if the sauce was going to pair well with it.”

“Yves is really good at cooking,” Mikhail says. “That’s half the reason why I roomed with him in college.”

“So what’s the other half?” Cherie says.

“The other half is that he lets me eat his food,” Mikhail says.

Yves laughs. “For a second, I thought you’d have something nice to say about my personality.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mikhail says.

“Yves is very good at cooking,” Vincent says, emerging from the hallway. Yves blinks at him. Whatever he’d done in the bathroom has done wonders—he looks remarkably put together. Not a strand of his hair is out of place. His eyes are dry, not red, not teary, not irritated, his collar crisply upright, his voice devoid of congestion. The only telltale sign about his ailment is the slight bit of redness to his nose, but it’s winter—that could easily be chalked up to the cold.

He slips easily into the seat next to Yves, his posture impeccable. Yves does everything in his power not to stare.

“I think he’s responsible for some of the best hot chocolate I’ve had,” Vincent continues. That remark is surprising, too—repurposed from a memory as it is, it seems almost like something that could be genuine.

But Yves remembers how easily Vincent had lied, back on New Year’s—how easily he’d drawn the fictitious threads between them, almost thoughtlessly, as if they had always existed.

I could make better hot chocolate, Yves thinks, before he can stop himself. I could really make the best hot chocolate you’ve ever tasted, if I just had time. It’s an absurd thought, and one that he doesn’t have much grounds for. He had been pressed for time, back then—he hadn’t known when Vincent’s ride was going to be arriving—but even if he’d really, properly tried, even if he’d succeeded in making the best hot chocolate he’s capable of making, there’s no guarantee that Vincent would’ve liked it.

He’s surprised by the pang in his chest, now, the desire to make true something that he knows to be false, to be worthy of the compliments that Vincent’s so easily spoken about.

“That’s definitely an exaggeration,” Yves says. “Technically, Mikhail didn’t even know that I knew how to cook when we signed the lease. The real reason why we roomed together is much more interesting.”

It’s a story he’s told before, though Cherie and Giselle haven’t heard it before. It’s easy to fall into it again: Mikhail and Yves met in their first year, over a group project in an intro to finance class. The two other members of their team had been dead weight, and at the time, Yves had thought—incorrectly—that Mikhail was just as bad as the rest of them.

It’s practically a comedy of errors—a series of miscommunications had led them to each finish the project independently. Yves remembers the all-nighters he’d pulled for that, nervous and over-caffeinated, until the day before the presentation, where he found that Mikhail had not—unlike the other members of their group—spent the last few weeks slacking off.

Beside him, Vincent goes still.

When Yves chances a quick look at him, he sees: a slight, almost imperceptible ripple to his expression, before it smooths out again.

He nearly backtracks—his first thought is that perhaps something he’s said is the source of Vincent’s irritation—but then Vincent turns his face away. There’s the slightest disturbance to the line of his shoulders, and then—

“—gkT-!”

The sneeze is barely audible, stifled as it is into a half-closed palm, though the gesture is subtle, too—easily mistaken as Vincent simply looking away, resting his chin on his hand.

“I can’t believe you guys are still friends after all of that,” Nora says.

“Right,” Yves says. “I was so ready to never talk to him again. But obviously, we still had to give the presentation.”

He talks about how, in a half-asleep effort to salvage the project work, he and Mikhail had found some way to relate their findings to each other, to loosely bind the disparate subjects into a coherent thesis. Mikhail talks, too, about how they’d manipulated their presentation to get their combined work to seem sufficiently on topic.

Mikhail is halfway through his story when Yves sees Vincent jolt forward beside him.

He looks up just in time to catch the tail end of a sneeze—expertly stifled, just like the others—into a clenched fist. This one’s a little more forceful, even in its quietness—it leaves Vincent hunched over for just a moment, his shoulders slightly slumped, before he straightens again, covertly lowering his hand.

There’s a slightly hazy, distant look to his features, as if whatever’s been bothering him hasn’t begun to let up yet.

Yves nudges him with his arm. Vincent doesn’t exactly jump at the contact, but he does freeze, his shoulders stiffening.

“Hey,” Yves says, quietly enough that he doesn’t think anyone else should be able to hear. “You okay?”

Vincent nods.

“You sure you don’t want to take anything?”

Another nod.

“I can’t tell you how little either of us proofread that paper,” Mikhail is saying.

“I reread it three months later,” Yves admits. “And he’s right. We really didn’t proofread it.”

But it was a winning proposal, even though they’d both been too tired to realize it then. And still, Mikhail had still managed to hold a grudge against him for two long months. And then Mikhail had run into last-minute problems with his upcoming lease arrangement, and Yves had happened to find a decently priced two-bedroom apartment with no roommate, and he’d reached out half as a joke.

“You know those friends who say they can never room together?” Mikhail is saying. “Like, they hang out all the time, or they’ve been friends for years, or they trust each other with their lives, or whatever. But the second you put their living habits in close proximity, everything goes to shit? I think we were the opposite.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just because you two never had a good enough relationship to ruin in the first place?” Nora says jokingly.

She has a point. Yves is starting to think that all of the formative relationships in his life have all happened by accident.

—

Vincent and Giselle get along very well, Yves notes, listening to the two of them talk. Halfway through dinner, they get into a heated discussion about the more outward-facing expectations at work, as Joel and Cherie exchange knowing glances. Giselle talks about feeling accountable for the team she manages—for knowing that if they don’t perform, she’ll take the fall for them; for being careful not to disperse the stress from higher ups unevenly, for constantly feeling her way through how much work is reasonable to expect of them. Vincent talks about the stress of apportioning work to others—the knowledge in his own competence and the knowledge gap when it comes to how others will handle things, the desire to take on more work alone to make sure everything is accounted for.

Nora, who’d had an internship at a different firm after each year in college, weighs in too on the management styles she’d been under, to what extent the expectations from leadership affected the dynamic between her coworkers.

It’s interesting, Yves thinks, that they all have their own subset of worries, even when they come across as people who are so certain of themselves.

As the others speak, Vincent stops periodically to rub his nose with the knuckle of his index finger—an action that always seems to keep the irritation at bay, but never seems to mitigate it entirely. For a moment, his expression goes hazy, his eyes watering ever so slightly, but it always lasts only a moment.

When Mikhail cracks a joke that has the entire table laughing, Vincent takes the opportunity to cough quietly into an upheld fist. When Cherie talks about her and Joel’s extremely mathematical efforts to fit everything into the car before moving, Vincent turns aside, raising a napkin to his face with a quiet, well-contained sniffle.

It’s difficult to tell, at first. But his attempts to keep quiet, to succumb to his symptoms as inconspicuously as possible, take their toll on him. Every time he jerks forward with a near-silent stifle, Yves can tell, by Vincent’s expression when he emerges, that it’s just short of relieving. Every sniffle seems to only add on to the mounting congestion, in the long run. It’s a slow, almost imperceptible unraveling.

And yet, when Yves asks about it—when he offers to ask the others for antihistamines, or when he offers to make the drive to a convenience store himself; when he suggests that they go out to get some fresh air—he’s always faced with the same nonanswer, the same dismissive, I’ll be fine. The same persistent, Don’t worry about it.

So Yves doesn’t worry about it, for now—at least, not outwardly.

—

At some point after dinner, they disperse. Yves talks to Joel and Cherie about the apartment, about the pains of moving in, about the other places they’d considered and about why this one had been at the top of the list. Then about the cat— “we had been talking about getting one,” Cherie says. “And then one day Joel was wandering around downtown, and one of the pet shops there was holding an adoption event, and then when I got home there was a cat in the living room.”

“He didn’t call you to come pick out a cat with him?”

“Have you ever heard of ‘ask for forgiveness, not permission?’” Joel says.

“He texted me before he brought her home,” Cherie says, and scrolls through her phone until she finds a text that says: Would you kill me if I brought home a cat. Just asking for a friend. And hypothetically if we extended this thought experiment it would be an orange cat that’s 2 months old.

“That sounds like a text from someone who’s absolutely decided already,” Yves says. “Ask for forgiveness, huh? So how’s the forgiveness going?”

“I let her name her,” Joel says.

“He’s on litter box duty for the next six months,” Cherie says.

On the other side of the room, Mikhail and Vincent are having a conversation—it could be because Vincent is the person in the room that Mikhail has talked to least, to date, but Yves has a feeling that it’s so that Mikhail can gain embarrassing intel on what Yves has been doing for the past few months.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Vincent turn away, his eyebrows drawing together, raising both his hands to his face to catch a sneeze into steepled hands. Then, not a moment later, his shoulders shudder forward with another.

“Totally off topic,” Yves says, to Joel and Cherie. “Do you guys have any antihistamines?”

“I think we have some Benadryl,” Cherie says. “It should be in the bathroom cabinet, behind the mirror.”

He does find it there, eventually—next to a box of band-aids and a small cylindrical container of cotton swabs. Perhaps he’ll hand it to Vincent, discreetly, when he’s done talking to Mikhail. Vincent had said antihistamines made him tired, but now that dinner is over, it shouldn’t be an issue—Yves suspects people will start heading out soon, and he’ll be the one driving, anyways.

When he steps out into the hallway, Mikhail and Vincent are in the middle of a conversation. It’s a conversation Yves has every intention of interrupting, and no intention of eavesdropping on, until he overhears—

“So,” Mikhail says, “When you first started dating Yves, what was it that you saw in him?”

Yves winces. That’s certainly not an easy question to answer—he and Vincent don’t know each other all that well, and any planning they have done on the basis of their fake relationship has been almost entirely centered around logistics—events, important dates, flagship moments in the relationship, trivia-worthy personal details. Not… this.

But Vincent just laughs, seemingly unfazed. “Honestly, if I told you everything I liked about Yves, you’d want to date him too.”

“That’s a tall claim,” Mikhail says. Yves is positively certain that no permutation of words in the universe could make Mikhail want to date him. “You can’t just say that and not give any examples.”

“I guess Yves is a very considerate person,” Vincent says, with a sniffle. “It actually confused me, at first. When I was growing up, after I moved here from Korea, I was brought up in the sort of environment where there was always an expectation for self-sufficiency. It didn’t matter how young I was, I guess—there were certain things I was expected to know, and certain things I was expected to teach myself.”

Something about his expression looks wistful, if not a little sad. But perhaps this is a trick of the light; perhaps his eyes are just watering from earlier. “My parents trusted me with a lot of things, but it was the kind of trust where they weren’t planning on filling in the gaps for me if I fell short.”

“I know what you mean,” Mikhail says. “That must’ve been difficult.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Vincent says. “But I’m not telling you this because it was a burden to me, or anything. Back then, it was all that I had ever known. It was normal to me, then, because it was inevitable.”

“Yves is a very different person than I am,” Vincent says. “At times, when I was growing up, it felt like kindness was always something that had to be calculated.”

He pauses, sniffling again, before he raises his arm to his face with a forceful—

“hIhh’GKT-! Hh… hh-HHih’NGKktshH!”

“Bless you,” Mikhail says reflexively.

“Thadk you,” Vincent says, sniffling. He lowers his arm. “I was always taught that if you lend a hand to someone else, you have to make sure their success is not the thing that robs you of your spot—that sort of thing. But Yves is kind even without thinking about it. He’s kind even when there’s nothing in it for him.”

“So that was what made you develop feelings for him?” Mikhail asks.

“Eventually, yes,” Vincent says. “At first, I thought that we were irreconcilably different.”

“What changed?”

“Yves is an easy person to like, romantically or otherwise,” Vincent says. “It’s a little disarming to be on the receiving end of his type of kindness. And I think that’s ultimately what made me start liking him. He’s just the sort of selfless person you can’t help but admire, if that makes sense. It’s like—when someone does so much for you out of sheer selflessness, at some point, you start wanting to be a part of their happiness too.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yves sees a small orange blur—mostly fluff, on four short white legs, with two pointy ears—bound from the kitchen into the living room.

“I get it,” Mikhail says. “That’s an interesting answer. It makes me hopeful that Yves might’ve stumbled into a relationship that will be very good for him.”

That’s a statement he’ll have to revise, Yves thinks wryly, in a few months, whenever it stops being practical for Vincent to keep up this act.

“Oh,” Vincent says, blinking. “What makes you say that?”

“When he and Erika broke up, he was—” Mikhail pauses, briefly, and Yves is thinking about the many embarrassing—but completely, verifiably true—ways he could finish off that sentence. “—he was pretty upset,” Mikhail says, instead, which Yves decides is suitably merciful.

“Look, what’s between them is between them—I’m not going to claim I know all the ins and outs of their relationship. But given that Yves was living with me for much of the time that he and Erika were dating, I’ve seen them interact more times than I can count.”

“I don’t think Erika is a bad person,” he continues. “She’s very ambitious, which I think was good for Yves back when they first started dating. But I don’t think she recognized those things about him—how much he cares for others, how much he gives people the benefit of the doubt, how much he… well, frankly, how much bullshit he’s willing to endure on his end. I think she took his kindness for granted, a little bit, and she certainly didn’t go out of her way to reciprocate.”

“What I’m saying is, I’m glad he met you,” Mikhail says. Beside him, something small and orange hops onto the couch they’re standing next to. “I can tell that what you said was sincere.”

If even Mikhail thought he was being sincere, perhaps Vincent is a little too good of an actor.

“Obviously, it’s early for me to be saying this, so you can take it with a grain of salt,” Mikhail continues. “But I think you could be kind to him in the way he deserves.”

The sentence feels like a punch to the stomach.

And—well.

I’m glad he met you. I think you could be kind to him in the way he deserves.

Yves has really dug himself into this hole, hasn’t he?

Mikhail thinks that Vincent is good for him—Mikhail, one of Yves’s closest friends, someone who is by no means quick to express his approval over whoever Yves is seeing—which means that when they inevitably stage their breakup, Yves is never going to hear the end of it.

Is it cruel to be taking Vincent to all of these events, to be introducing him to all of his friends, when—after the impending breakup—Vincent might never see any of them again? Is it cruel that Mikhail likes Vincent enough to be hopeful that this is going to last?

Yves doesn’t have time to contemplate it more when three things happen.

One—Gingersnap, who is still perched at the very top of the couch, nudges her face against Vincent’s arm and mews softly at him.

Two—Vincent stops what he’s doing to reach out slowly, cautiously, to scratch gently at the fur under her chin. Gingersnap purrs, leaning her head into his hand.

Three—Vincent withdraws his hand, suddenly, as if he’s been burned, twisting away reflexively. He lifts his hand—the same hand he’s been petting Gingersnap with (probably inadvisably) to his face, to cover a resounding—

“hh—hiHH-hHihh’iIZSChHH-uhh! snf-!”

The sneeze sounds ticklish and barely relieving, as if he’s been holding it in all afternoon.

It’s only a few moments later that Vincent’s jerking forward with another ticklish, wrenching, “hh… hhiHH… NgKT-!—hh’hiiIIIK’TSCHhuhH! snf-! hiIh… hIIIH-IITSCHh’yyue!”

“Oh,” Mikhail says, finally comprehending. “You’re allergic to cats?”

“Just slightly— hIh… hH- Hiih—hhH’nNGkT-!” Vincent sniffles wetly, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “Sorry to - hh-! - cut our codversatiod short - hH… I… hhiHh’IiKSHhuh! Excuse mbe… hH… Hhh-! I’mb going to rund to the bathroom… hh… hhiIh… hh-HIih’iiIK’SHhUHhh!”

Yves ducks out into the kitchen before Vincent has a chance to head his way. He busies himself with removing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water, Somewhere behind him, he hears the bathroom door click shut, hears the slightly muffled sound of a sneeze, then another.

He shuts his eyes.

Vincent had said that it was fine. Should Yves have insisted? It’s Yves’s fault, again, that Vincent is in this situation, but then again, he couldn’t have known—both that Joel and Cherie would have a cat, and that Vincent would like her so much. Either way, Yves can’t help but feel partially responsible.

But would it be strange, now, to offer Vincent something to take for it, to openly acknowledge his affliction? Should he have done something earlier? Or should he wait to acknowledge it after they leave?

Against all doubt, he finds himself outside of the bathroom door.

Yves knocks.

There’s the sound of water running, inside, and then the sound of the faucet being turned to shut. Then there’s a brief pause. Yves is contemplating knocking again when the door opens just a crack.

There, Vincent stands, his eyes a little watery still, his nose just slightly redder than usual, his hair slightly out of place—he’s just washed his face, then.

“Yves,” Vincent says.

“Um,” Yves says, holding out the glass of water and, next to it, the bottle of Benadryl. “Thought you could use these.”

Vincent takes the cup, a little hesitantly, and sets it on the bathroom counter. Then he takes the bottle of allergy medicine, unscrews the cap, and removes two small pink pills.

“Thank you,” he says. Yves thinks he’s about to take a sip when he twists to the side suddenly, his eyes squeezing shut, snapping forward with a loud—

“hIIH’IIKKSHh’hUh!”

The hand he’s holding the cup with trembles a bit with the action, but the water inside doesn’t spill.

“Bless you,” Yves says, taking the cup from him, before—

“hIHH… hh-Hhih’iISCHhh’Uhh!”

“Bless you!”

The only acknowledgment Vincent gives him is to take the cup back from him, sniffling, and down the pills in one quick, decisive sip.

“They’ll take some time to take effect,” Yves says, though he’s sure that Vincent knows that already, for the way he knew to take two, even without reading the label on the bottle. “Are you okay?”

“It’s been awhile since my last edcounter with a cat,” Vincent says, sniffling.

“You forgot how bad it was?”

“It gets better with exposure,” he says. And worse without.

Yves says, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I really didn’t know they’d have a cat.”

“Even if you’d known, I ndever told you I was allergic,” Vincent says. “It’s fine.”

“I should’ve thought to check. Seriously, a housewarming party—”

“I told you, snf, I like cats,” Vincent says, clearing his throat. “So it’s fine.”

Yves looks around—at the bathroom, which looks just as pristine as he’d left it earlier, except that the tissue box on the bathroom counter is a little askew. At the slight tiredness to Vincent’s posture, even as he looks off to the side, tilting his glasses up to his forehead to swipe at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Do you want to get out of here?“ Yves says.

“I cad stay,” Vincent says, as if he really is willing to, despite the side effects. “Do you want to stay longer?”

I want you to be comfortable, Yves wants to say.

Instead, he says, “I think I’ve just about caught up with everyone. Besides, we have work tomorrow, and I think Cherie and Joel do too, so I don’t want to stay too late, you know?”

“Okay,” Vincent says.

“I’m happy you came,” Yves says, stepping past Vincent to put the bottle of Benadryl back into its original spot, where he found it. He snags the glass from the counter on his way out.

“Your friends are a fun crowd,” Vincent says, following him out.

Yves laughs. “I think just between you and me, Mikhail has been dying to interrogate you about this relationship.”

“He did idterrogate me,” Vincent says. “How much of it did you overhear?”

“What?”

“When you were standing out in the hallway.”

Oh. Well, perhaps he hadn’t been as discreet about eavesdropping as he’d thought. Yves says, “Okay, you got me. I heard a good amount.”

“I don’t think Mikhail noticed you there, if you’re worried,” Vincent says. “In any case, it doesd’t matter if you overheard. It was just the same story.”

They step out into the hallway. Giselle has left, already, to be home in time for a cross-timezone call with a team that works somewhere halfway across the world. Yves bids everyone else a goodbye (Cherie and Joel thank him for coming, and Cherie hugs him and Vincent both on the way out; Nora asks Vincent to send her a recipe to his beef skewers, to which Vincent admits sheepishly that he stole from a cookbook, to which Nora says “making it successfully is half the work;” Mikhail says, “If you and Vincent get a place too, I want to be invited to your housewarming party.”)

On the way out, Yves grabs both of their coats off from where they’re hanging in a closet next to the front door, and hands Vincent’s coat to him. There’s never much street parking by the apartment, so the car is parked a couple blocks down, and it’s cold enough to be worth bundling up.

“You’re very good at lying,” Yves says, when he’s sure that the door is shut behind them.

Outside, it’s snowing just a little. Snow falls from the sky in thick white flakes. Vincent pulls his hood over his shoulders, sniffling a little—though whether that’s from the cold or from the allergies, Yves can’t be sure. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“Definitely a compliment. I just mean, you play the part really well.”

“So instead of being a good boyfriend, I’m a good fake boyfriend,” Vincent says, lifting his sleeve to his face to muffle a cough into it. “Somehow, that seems much less impressive.”

“It’s arguably more impressive,” Yves says. “It definitely requires a different subset of skills.”

Vincent is quiet for a moment. When Yves looks over, he sees Vincent raise both hands to his face, steepling them over his nose, his eyes fluttering shut.

“hHh… hHh’iiiIKKSshh’uhh!”

“Bless you,” Yves says.

“Ndot— hh… hHh… done — hH-hhIh’nGKKTsHuuh! hHh-hH’IIZSCHHhhuh!”

“Bless you! Cats, huh?”

Vincent hums. It’s snowed all through dinner—the snow under their feet coats the sidewalk, powdery and untouched. Their shoes sink into it while they walk.

“I didn’t know you used to live in Korea,” Yves says.

“It’s not a secret, snf-!,” Vincent says. “But I ndever found an occasion to bring it up.”

Yves can think of a hundred things to say—how it’s strange only learning this information secondhand; it’s strange to play the part of someone who knows Vincent and knows him intimately, and to know so little about him, at the core of it. Isn’t it like that, with coworkers? The only window he has to Vincent’s life is made up of the things Vincent has chosen to share with him—over small talk in the break room, or conversationally over their outings, or during longer drives.

He knows an assortment of trivia, like Vincent’s favorite color (green) or Vincent’s birthday (March 15th) or the number of siblings Vincent has (one), or when he had his first kiss (during his first year in university) or his least favorite chore (vacuuming) or how he spends his weekends (generally at the library downtown, catching up on work or working on his personal projects). But even that was only for the sake of having something to say if his friends asked him—of having a basic understanding of his supposed partner that Vincent could later corroborate.

“Was it very different there?”

“I moved here when I was pretty young,” Vincent says. “But it was very different.”

When Yves looks over, there’s something complicated to Vincent’s expression that gives him pause. “Back then, I was young enough that everything was new to me. So the cultural shift wasn’t as pronounced for me as it was for the rest of the family. I think that’s why they moved back, eventually.”

“Did that happen recently?”

“They moved back just six years after we came here,” he says. “I was in high school at the time, so I stayed with my aunt to continue my education here.”

“Was it difficult living here on your own?”

“Is this useful to you?”

Yves blinks, taken aback. “Sorry?”

“Is this information useful to you?” Vincent says, looking over at him. His glasses have fogged up a little in the cold. “Do you think your friends are going to ask about it?”

“It’s—not exactly useful in that sense,” Yves says, backtracking. “I just wanted to know. But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

That’s right, he reminds himself—he and Vincent are only doing this for appearances’ sake.

“I got used to it,” Vincent says, finally, which isn’t exactly an answer. “It’s hard to say if—hold on, I— hh-!”

Yves sees him duck off to the side, raising his arm to his face.

“Bless you—!”

“hh-Hhiih’IIZSCHh’uhH!”

The sneeze is muffled slightly into his sleeve. Vincent sniffles, keeping his arm clamped to his face for a moment, in trepidation, before dropping it to his side.

“Apologies, snf-!,” he says, as if he has anything to apologize for. “It’s hard to say if things would’ve been better if I’d gone back with them to Korea. I just know things would’ve been different.”

Yves doesn’t know what to say to that. It feels like something that Vincent has thought about for years, something that Yves couldn’t even begin to comprehend—growing up here, alone. Away from his family, in a country foreign to him, with his family all the way on the other side of the Pacific ocean; staying with a stranger. To say that it had to have been difficult would be a vast understatement.

Had he doubted himself, then? Had it been his idea to stay here, in the States? Had his parents told him it was for the best? Had he argued with them on the subject? Had they listened?

“Do you think you’re happy enough now to justify that decision?” Yves asks.

Vincent is quiet for a bit. Around them, the snow continues to fall, silent and slow, listing upwards on every updrift. “Sometimes,” he says.

—

When they get back to the car, Vincent is quiet. The car is frigid, the window panes cold enough to fog up when Yves puts his hand on them—he puts the heaters on to the highest setting. If anything, being out of the cold seems to make Vincent’s nose run even more—a fact which he carefully obscures, resting his face on the palm of his hand with a few muffled sniffles.

“Thanks again for coming,” Yves says. “I know I—and everyone else—already said that to you like a hundred times. But I mean it.”

“It’s ndo problem, snf,” Vincent says. “I’ll be sure to avoid putting you into contact with cats in the future,” Yves says.

“There’s ndo need for that.”

“While we’re at it, is there anything else you’re allergic to?”

“Not much,” Vincent says. “Unless you pland on getting rid of the entire season of spring.”

“That’s secretly why you chose an office job,” Yves says. “So you could avoid all the pollen by staying inside all day.”

“Busy season was - snf-! - idvented solely for that purpose,” Vincent says.

It’s barely a couple minutes into the drive when Vincent stifles a yawn into his fist.

“Are you tired?” Yves asks. “I mean, you did say that thing about antihistamines making you tired.”

“Wide awake,” Vincent says, before—moments later—hiding another yawn behind a cupped hand.

“Evidently,” Yves says, which earns him a quiet laugh.

“Tell me if you ndeed me,” Vincent says, leaning his head lightly on the passenger seat window. As if this is work, or something. As if Yves could have any conceivable reason to need him during the drive home.

“Not at all,” Yves says. “As a matter of fact, it’d probably be a good thing if you close your eyes. You wouldn’t have to look at all this traffic.” It’s a little past rush hour, but traffic is only just starting to clear up, and driving in the city at any hour has never been a particularly pleasant experience.

Vincent opens his eyes. “Do you wadt me to help navigate?”

“I want you to sleep,” Yves says. “I’m an expert at handling traffic.”

It’s as if all this time, Vincent was merely waiting for permission. Yves isn’t certain if he’s asleep, but he certainly looks to be—when Yves sneaks a glance at him, his eyes are shut, his shoulders slack, and his breathing has evened out. It’s an image Yves wants to thoroughly take in—the slow rise of his chest, his eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks.

Instead, he drives. Instead, he stares hard at the rows and rows of cars before him, at every traffic light, and tries not to think about—

Vincent, at the housewarming party, kneeling down to pet a cat smaller than his hand, despite being well aware of the consequences.

Vincent, calling Yves kind even without thinking about it, talking about him—about his best qualities—with near-artful dishonesty.

Vincent, walking beside him in the snow, talking candidly about growing up here; the unspoken understanding between them about how much he must’ve given up.

That Vincent, the same Vincent from work, asleep in Yves’s passenger seat, while Yves drives him home.

Yves can’t help but think that if he caught feelings for someone like Vincent, Erika would be the least of his problems.

#sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #probably one of the longest oneshots i've posted here #i'm sorry if this is not like #as... snz-driven as usual? it's a little more mellow and i really hope that doesn't make it a boring read #i promise i am in the middle of writing something spicier 😭#my fic #also thank you to everyone who has left comments/come talk to me about fool me twice 🥹 it makes me really happy to know that there are #people out there who like reading these two #yvverse #(<- new tag for them)

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orecana · 9 months

Text

Not so innocent

Jung jaehyun x male reader

Hello everyone. Orecana here! I've written and post another fic for you guys to enjoy. Thank you to whoever read and support my fic so far. Love you guys.

Warning: this fic contains the following that may disturb you

Alpha beta Omega second genders

harsh sexualization

Sexual assault

Murder

Description of blood and gore

Pet names

Belly bulge and cum inflation

Most importantly, my first time writing a smut which will go extremely bad......

If any of the things listed above annoys the hell out of you, you are more than welcome to get the hell out of this fic and do something else.

Y/n is a young omega that has just recently transferred to neo academy, a prestigious school for talented individuals like himself.

Neo academy, is a prestigious school that will send an application letter to the most gifted individuals in the entire world.

He jumps happily as he looks at the academy in front of him, he can't believe it! It's like a dream come true.

He goes into the academy and is extremely happy and surprised on how luxurious everything is.

He goes into a room which he presumes to be the office, so that he could get his schedule and dorm key. However, that will have to wait a bit because the person behind the desk is currently talking to someone.

He waits until they're done and when the person turns around, y/n feels his heart beat faster.

The man is ridiculously handsome with brown hair and that sharp jawline. The alpha seeing y/n admiring him, sends him a wink before going out of the office.

Are you y/n l/n?

Y/n snaps out of his daze and looks at the direction of the woman.

Yes i am

The woman hands over his schedule and dorm key to him. The woman frowns when she sees his key.

Uh there's seems to be a problem with your key, I need to take a quick call.

The woman phones someone. When the called picked up, they engaged in a serious conversation. Y/n doesn't know what they were talking about because the woman used her magic to conceal her conversation, but he knows that it was not going well, seeing that the woman keeps rubbing her forehead with a permanent scowl on her face. She reluctantly stops the call before facing y/n.

It seems that the omega and beta dorms have all been booked, so the only available rooms are in the alpha dorms. I truly apologize for this.

Y/n smiles before holding the woman's hand which has his key.

Don't worry miss, I'll be fine. Besides you read my application form you should know what I can do that other omegas can't.

The woman seems to contemplate before remembering. She smiled at y/n before sighing.

Right... I totally forgot about that. Still try to stay safe, the majority of alphas there Don't really respect omegas.

Y/n only giggles as his once (eye color) eyes turn into purple ones.

Oh. They will turn into new people by the time I'm done with them.

He thanks the woman before leaving, the woman only smiles as she thinks.

"this boy.... Is really incredible."

Y/n looks at his schedule that also works as a map around the school. Biology first then lunch break then we can do extra courses and last but not least battlefield fighting.

He smiles at the last one, eyes turning blood red once again at the mention of fighting. As an omega, he was badly sexualized in the past by so many unruly alphas but today he can change that.

He stops in front of the biology classroom and knocks. *Knock knock*

Come in!

He enters into a full classroom with many students. They all turn towards him as he closes the door. The professor adjusts his glasses before looking at y/n.

Ah! Are you y/n l/n? Please have a seat in one of the empty chairs. You're not late at all, we're just starting.

He smiles at the professor's kindness before bowing and sitting in one of the empty chairs on the left.

Shortly after a few minutes though, he slowly begins to regret sitting there. The alpha near him keeps releasing his toxic pheromones onto him and it's making him lightheaded. Fortunately, a student sitting across from them seems to notice and alert the professor, which immediately groans and clog his nose, an action that most students there do as well.

Mr. Samuel... We would appreciate it that you don't stink the whole room with your pheromones.

That alpha only smile cockily as he slides his hands down y/n's waist. Y/n was shocked at the action. How dare he!

And what do you want me to do professor? I got a real delectable omega sitting next to me right now. How can I keep my hands to myself? Besides those hips and that asshole just looks like he's begging to be fucked.

Many students were shocked that he say stuff like that with no remorse, he discreetly tries to slide his hands into y/n's shirt so he could play with the nipples. Y/n was about to act when a fist made its way into the alpha's face.

The entire class was shocked and Samuel holds his face in pain as blood started to come out, dripping down his broken nose and lips. Y/n looks up at his savior to see the handsome man from before, his left fist was covered in blood.

He goes and holds the other man's knuckle and raises his palm. Everyone was wide eyed when y/n's absorbed the blood from the knuckle into his hand as he moans.

Ahhhhh.... (The relaxed moan) I haven't felt blood in my veins since ages ago.

He says this as he looks at Samuel who cowardly tries to run while injured.

Oh? Where are you going? Didn't you wanted to grope me and feel me? Why are you running away?

Y/n says these lines with the most sinister face everybody could of imagined, even the man from before was awestruck at such a personality.

Samuel ran out of the class.

Typical alphas. Always acting so tough on the outside, but a bloody coward on the inside.

He turns around and look at the professor.

Shall we resume class professor?

He says this with such the sweetest smile ever that everyone wondered on what the hell happened to the person they saw just now?

Eventually, the professor did resume class and all students listened. Even y/n, who was new to the school managed to answer some of the difficult questions, which made a lot of people in the class respect him.

It was lunch break and students were hurrying out of the classroom. Y/n was putting his books back into his bag when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looks behind him to see that man.

Hey, wanna eat lunch with me?

Y/n could not believe his ears as he just stared at the alpha in front of him.

"this handsome god wants to hang out with me?!"

Y/n feels a blush coming on to his face as he mutters a weak "yes", which made the alpha smirks in satisfaction. The alpha leans into his ear as he whispers sultry.

My name's Jung jaehyun, baby~.

And boy did it make y/n squirms in his seat. His face flushed so hard it could be compared to a ripe tomato. Jaehyun smirks even more as he pats the Omega's shoulder.

I'll see you later at the cafeteria baby.

Once y/n hears the door shut behind him, he summons a concealment aura around him before screaming his lungs out.

"did he just got asked out by a hot guy? It feels like a dream come true."

He was smiling so happily as he imagines the alpha dreamy looks. He eventually snaps out of it and heads for the cafeteria.

When he reaches the cafeteria, he is even more awestruck. The whole cafeteria is divided to suit each person's personal taste on places they want to eat and the food there is absolutely divine. There are so many options to choose from though, y/n is at a lost on what he should eat.

Eventually, he decides to eat webfoot octopus with a side of iced milk tea. He has always enjoyed milk tea, to him it's like a special drink that will always make him relax.

Soon a boy is walking towards his table with a tray of his food.

Enjoy your food

He nods and quickly dig in.

Hey baby~

Y/n freezes, there's only one person with that voice.

Y/n: jaehyun? Is it you?

Jaehyun chuckles and sits down in the same table as y/n. They started talking about each other, from likes and dislikes to preferences.

One point during their talk, he could feel someone staring him down. He looks around him carefully, to see a lot of omegas staring him down. There were also alphas staring jaehyun down for being next to him.

He smirks as he looks at jaehyun, signalling him to come closer with his finger. Jaehyun lean in while chuckling.

I'm gonna make these omega and alpha drop their jaws, do you wanna help me?

And what are you gonna do baby?

Y/n pulls jaehyun closer to him before locking their lips together. Jaehyun, not even surprised immediately follow up by pushing his tongue into the other's mouth.

All the omegas and alphas watch them make out as some scream in anger while most are turned on.

They pulled away with saliva connecting their lips. They smirks at each other as y/n eyes turns purple yet again. Jaehyun notices this but doesn't act on it because he doesn't want the omega to be uncomfortable. He does think about others.

I'll see you later baby

The bell rings signaling the end of lunch break as most students grumble on their way to extra lessons. Y/n however don't have an extra class to participate in though. He did see a few request into certain classes but he's just not interested.

He decided to call it a day today by checking into his dorm room early. He goes into the alpha dormitory and scans his key card on the elevator. *Ding*

The elevator opens. He walks towards the dorm rooms counting them down while looking for his number.

500? Ah this must be it!

He uses his key to open the door. It went in!

He opens the door to a welcoming vibe as he drags his bag into the room and sit on the sofa in the living room. He decided to unpack early so he could get it done much faster and don't have to deal with it later.

Y/n takes a quick shower to relieve his stress and apply his favourite powder. This magical beauty product was always capable of making anybody the fairest by just a few pats on the face.

He looks at himself in the mirror, admiring his appearance.

I look so cute

He puts his make up product back in its place before he goes back into school for the last lesson.

Fighting.

When he arrived at the battlefield location, most of the students there has already fought. People noticed that he was here, some catcalled him because of black kimono he's wearing. It had a unique design of many Sakura flowers and burning spirits. The teacher approach him.

Hello y/n. Would you like to fight someone too?

He look around to find an alpha who is mocking everyone he fought.

Hah! You are so weak! Why did you even come to this academy, you bugs? Haha.

Y/n smirks as he found his target for the day.

I wanna fight him teacher!

Oh really? He is a bit strong tho, please be careful.

Y/n chuckles as he steps onto the stage. Once he was on the stage, he levitates off the ground and sits in the air in a meditating position.

(sth like this)

The alpha who he chose, smirks as he steps onto the stage as well.

Well well well, looks like another person have decided to challenge me. I have thought it would be a beta or an alpha, but it's a just an omega slut.

Most of the people in the battlefield feel disgusted as the alpha keeps talking about how useless omega is to society, only viable as a breeding tool for the whole society to use.

Y/n did not react at all, he just levitates there in the same position. The alpha slowly starts to get angry.

Oy, bitch! The hell are you ignoring me for?

Y/n didn't reply

You f***ing useless slut! Answer me!

Y/n didn't reply. The alpha got so angry that he goes in to hit y/n hard with his fist, until it collided with something in front of y/n's body that made a sickening crack to his hand.

Ahhhhhhh! My hand!

Y/n opens his eyes, his eyes were purple and he slowly drops onto the floor, walking slowly towards the alpha who tries to crawl back in fear.

How dare you insult the nature of my kind? Just because your kind is of higher stature, doesn't mean you can make fun of my people. The omegas...

People watch in fascination as y/n drags out a sword from the middle of his chest through his kimono as a glowing purple aura surrounds he stage.

SHALL SHINE ETERNAL!

He slashes with that sword as the alpha stops screaming. He sheaths the sword as the alpha lets out a large painful wail before collapsing.

He goes off the stage before going back to his dorm room not bothering to talk or look at anyone right now.

He unlocks his door and try to go in before someone grabs his arm. He pulls his arm away from the person before turning around with the deadliest glare ever. Jaehyun was scared shitless because of y/n. Once the omega see him tho, he softens a bit before pulling him in his room.

I'm sorry. I'm just mad.

Jaehyun only hugs y/n as he hugs him back.

Through a couple of days in the academy, y/n was a popular student among campus. He was the "his excellency the almighty Narukami ogosho god of thunder."

He has deepened his relationship with jaehyun and even met some of his fellow friends. He found himself getting along with taeyong the most, who was like a parent to him.

Things were going smoothly for y/n until that day

Y/n wakes up to the harsh feeling of nausea and headache. His dick was brushing against his shorts as he sighs at the uncomfortable feeling. He already knows what this means. His heat has just arrived. He groans as he just takes off his shorts and plays with his hole, moaning at the feeling of emptyness.

His mind keeps wandering to jaehyun and his well built body, packed with muscles and a six packs. He subconsciously licks his lips and his fingers goes in and out of his hole more aggressively. He moans out loud as he climaxes.

He breathes in and out, tired but his erection is still hard. He groans.

This is going to be a long day.

Jaehyun wanted to go see y/n, hearing that he was absent today in class because he was sick. In his hand was a box of hot soup. He knocks on the door of y/n dorm room

Y/n I'm coming in!

He lets himself inside the house as he immediately freezes and the box of soup fell onto the floor. Y/n was there, stretching himself with his fingers yet again as he moans lewdly.

Jaehyun wants nothing more than to fuck y/n at this moment, but he controlled himself. Y/n however pulls the alpha towards him as he looks at him with a lustful gaze. He flicks his fingers and they were teleported into y/n's bedroom.

Alpha! You're finally here.... I've been waiting for so long for you to show up. My fingers aren't enough to satisfy my heat at all. I only crave for more and more.

His fingers slithered around jaehyun's uniform as he swiftly dispose of them with his magic, quickly leaving jaehyun in his boxer. The omega mouth waters at the large bulge the alpha is carrying. He pulls it off and was slapped in the face with his cock.

IT'S SO LONG VEINY AND THICK.

Y/n knew that jaehyun was packing, but not to this extent. His purple glitters as he wasted no time and suck off the cock in front of him.

Jaehyun grunts as he feel the hot mouth of the omega sucking him off. It feels so good. He looks down at y/n who was busy savoring his cock like a starved man, filthy slurping sounds were heard all over the room. He sees how the omega took his long and thick veiny cock like a champ.

Y/n felt jaehyun dick throbs inside his mouth and begins working on it faster, determined to make him cum. Jaehyun groans in arousal.

Fuck! Baby, that feels so good. I-i'm gonna-

Jaehyun didn't even get to finish as he finally cums inside y/n's mouth. Floods of potent alpha cum is continuously being released into y/n's awaiting mouth, who slurps and drinks it all up.

Hah..... Hah...... Hah.....

Y/n takes jaehyun's cock out of his mouth while leaning his tongue out to collect any leftover cum. Jaehyun moans as his cock returns into its former condition only even bigger than before.

He quickly uses 3 of his fingers to play with the Omega's hole. Y/n moans out loud at the sudden intrusion of such thick fingers.

I'm gonna get your hole ready for my cock baby. Gonna breed you full of my pups *groans*.

Jaehyun whispers these words so hotly in y/n's ear that he immediately cums. His white semen covering his and jaehyun's body. Soon jaehyun removes his fingers and y/n knows what coming up next.

Jaehyun lines up his cock with y/n's hole, before pushes his cock in with one big thrust. Y/n moans loudly at the intrusion while jaehyun moans as well.

F-fuck baby, you're so tight. You're gripping so hard onto my cock.

J-jaehyun, f-fuck m-e. fill my hole with your pups. Breed me with your know, please alpha. I beg you~.

Jaehyun lost his sense of control and immediately rams into y/n's hole mercilessly as y/n just moans lewdly with his tongue out. They were both loss in the pleasure.

Jaehyun switches their position as he holds y/n against his chest and holds y/n's head. He kisses y/n as he continuously rams into the tight hole.

A-alpha~ look how good your cock is fucking me.

Jaehyun moans when he sees y/n's stomach and it only urges him to fuck him even harder and deeper. Everytime he rams into y/n's hole, it creates a noticable bulge inside the Omega's stomach fueling the two desires to mate.

Your ass feels so good around my cock. I'm gonna cum!

M-me too.

They both kissed as they chase their climax.

They both moaned into each other's mouth as they climax, jaehyun knots into y/n's hole as he pumps gallons of cum into y/n's tight clenching hole. The omega also came.

They both pants, out of breath as they recover from their sex. They miss each other sweetly before pulling away. They look at each other in the eye and smile.

I love you y/n l/n. I have fell for you for a while.

I love you too Jung jaehyun.

They look down at y/n's stomach that has a considerable bulge because of the amount of cum that jaehyun is dumping in him.

Heh how much cum do you have?

It's all for you my love.

Y/n blushes. Even in times like these, jaehyun never fails to make him blush.

After a while, jaehyun's knot shrink down and he pulls out of y/n's hole as the omega whimpers from the lost of being filled. Cum did not fall out of the omega though because y/n uses his magic to keep it all in him.

You really want my baby huh?

Of course, you're my alpha after all.

They lay down on the bed that is now cleaned thanks to y/n's magic. Jaehyun embrace his lover as he leans in close.

I love you my not so innocent omega.

*chuckles* I love you too my hot alpha.

#fanfiction #romance #gay #male idol x male reader #jaehyun x male reader #jung jaehyun #nct x male reader #nct 127 #nct 127 x male reader #kpop male idol x male reader #x male reader

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intimacyequalsdeath · 2 months

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Will you be my Valentine? Sugar Day 5 Billy Loomis

Hi babies! Welcome to day 5! This one is going up a little later then usual since I no longer have fics written in advanced and am writing this one day of, also do keep in mind after this event I will be returning to regular fics and requests!

Notes: Minors DNI (You will be blocked idc), SFW, No specific descriptions of reader or specific pronouns used, if so they/them will be used unless sometimes otherwise specified.

"Billy you promised!" You screeched at him over the phone.

It was about 9pm the night before Valentine's day and Billy had promised you he would take you out. Yet here he was calling to tell you that he and Stu had something to do. You know what they had to do but when it came to that and Billy it was better not to argue.

"I know babe but this is the only night me and Stu have for this. It came up last minute I swear"

'Whatever Billy, go play serial killer with Stu and leave me alone"

You knew it was a low blow but you couldn't help it with how angry you were. You heard Billy's breathing hitch on the other end of the phone as if he wasn't expecting your reply. Before he could answer you, you added insult to injury and hung up the phone.

If Billy wanted to act like this, two could play at that game.

===================Time Skip======================

It was now closer to midnight and you hadn't heard from Billy since you had hung up on him. It wasn't a surprise or at all worrying though as whenever him and Stu went out there was no telling how long they would take.

Tonight also Billy was pissed at you, you were sure of. So there was no telling if you would even see Billy tonight. You were laying in bed replaying the events in your head when you heard a banging sound coming from your window.

You quickly got out of bed, not wanting it to wake anyone in the house up and headed over. You were met with Billy giving you a sour look as you opened the window.

"What are you doing here Billy?"

"You really think I'm going to let you talk to me that way and not come see you?"

"You all done with Stu then I take it?"

Billy rolled his eyes before fixing them on you.

"Look, I'm sorry ok? I couldn't help that we got the perfect opportunity to go through with the current victim tonight. Stu called as I was getting ready to come over and get you and I didn't really have a choice"

You didn't like being mad at Billy, and being in a relationship with him meant you had signed up for EVERYTHING Billy had to offer. Even if that meant the Ghostface side, but this wasn't the first time Ghostface had gotten in the way of your relationship.

"Billy. I understand that, but this isn't the first time you've blown me off entirely to go do stuff with Stu. I understand having to go to last minute things but I want you to at least try harder to make time for both me and you and Stu's...fun and games"

"You knew what you were getting into when we started dating. I made it perfectly clear to you who I was-"

"I know that Billy! I know what I signed up for but I at least thought you would try a little harder to at least give me a portion of your time. You always put Ghostface stuff over me"

You sat back down on the edge of your bed with your arms crossed. Billy sighed as he watched you pout before he sat down next to you.

"Look, I'm- I'm sorry alright? I'll admit I have been putting you out a lot lately, especially with how big Ghostface has been getting. You know I don't mean to treat you like that"

He put his arm gently around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. You put your head over his heart to be able to hear his heartbeat.

"I know Billy, i forgive you. I know you don't mean to but that doesn't make it hurt any less when you have to call off date nights to go do stuff with Stu"

Billy nodded in understanding as you spoke and you felt him sigh again before he spoke.

"Maybe I'll tell Stu we need to slow it down for a bit"

You looked up at him shocked. Was he serious? He would seriously tell Stu to slow down on Ghostface just for you?

"Billy you don't-"

"I know but I want to, Besides we need to slow down anyway. We've been doing too many at once and if we aren't careful we'll fuck around and get caught"

"That guy they found in the library bathroom was a close call"

This made both of you laugh as you thought of the time that you, Billy and Stu had to sprint through the woods to not get caught.

"Hey what about you and I go somewhere?"

"Billy it's midnight" "Yeah but that means it's also officially Valentine's day so why not start early?"

"Where would we even go? Everywhere is closed by now"

"Who says we have to go somewhere in town? Why don't we go to our spot in the woods?"

You grinned ear to ear at Billy. Your spot in the woods was a giant rock by a creek that the two of you had found back in freshman year right after you had start dating. The two of you went there for each special occasion an every time Billy felt like skipping school.

"Oh Billy I'd love too"

Billy grinned before standing and grabbing your hand to tug him along with you. As you both made your way out of the window into the crisp night air you had two realizations.

One was that you loved Billy Loomis and two was that at this point you could barely remember why you were even mad in the first place.

#slasher x reader #slasher fandom #valentines day #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #scream #scream 1996

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onlymingyus · 11 months

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The King's Gambit: Contracts (Teaser 1)

pairing; joshua hong x female reader

genre; smut, angst, fluff, slow burn (there may be changes to this once the full fic is posted to tumblr upon completion)

warnings; mentions of a contract, BDSM contract, mention of punishment (spanking) -- there will be other warnings listed on the final fic upon completion

w/c; 510 and some change for this teaser

The King's Gambit Collab masterlist & taglist

a/n; this is just a small teaser for The King's Gambit: Contracts -- there is no completion date set at this time, so please be patient with me. I am currently sitting at 31k and have plenty of story left to write. this will be a very long story so there may be other teasers posted here on Tumblr but I know I will be posting other teasers and behind the scene things on Patreon. if you would like more there is a longer teaser already available for my peaches (subscribers).

please consider supporting me read how to do that here

Because of his phone call, Joshua was running late. He still looked fine but he had skipped breakfast after a pretty intense workout, and he was running on spite. Barely glancing at his assistant the man furrows his brows at the way Jeonghan is leaning against her desk.

“Jeonghan, I don’t have all fucking day.”

A smirk crosses the lawyer’s face before he offers a wink to the assistant causing her to scoff and roll her eyes going back to her work as Jeonghan follows Joshua into his office closing the door.

“No need to be so damn grumpy, Shua. I was here on time, you are the one who is late.”

Sitting down behind his desk, Joshua meets his friend’s eyes only to glare briefly. He wanted to tell him that he had no fucking idea what he was dealing with at the moment but there was no way he was going to tell him. There was no way he could tell him or Seungcheol about the conversation with his father or the Hyong merger right now. He had to figure his shit out.

“I’m not in the mood, I was hoping you’d be here with some good news. My new contract?”

Extending his hand, Joshua expects to be offered a signed, sealed, and delivered contract but instead, Jeonghan hands him something he had never seen in all of his years of rotating contracts. Turning the pages with obvious frustration, Joshua scoffs loudly before glancing around the contract to look at Jeonghan incredulously.

“She can’t be serious?”

“Oh, that’s fun. That’s what she said too when I first gave her the contract to look over.”

Joshua wasn’t finding the same amusement that his best friend was. He was looking at all of your changes as if they were slaps to his face.

“I won’t accept some of these. She’s just trying to see how far she can push me.”

Sucking on his teeth, Joshua leans to pick up a pen with blue ink leaning over his desk to start making his own changes to yours.

“She marked through cockiness? That isn’t something she thinks I can punish for? God, what a fucking brat. Fine, Y/N…have it your way.”

Jeonghan shakes his head, a sigh on his lips as he watches Joshua mutter to himself. The pen in the man’s hand moves over the papers making small but distinct changes before Joshua pushes it back across the desk to his friend.

Picking up the contract, Jeonghan crosses his leg over his knee reading under his breath before smirking and raising his brow at Joshua.

“You replaced cockiness with bratty behavior?”

Joshua only nods, lifting his hand to run his fingers through his hair clearly flustered by the morning.

“Finish it today. Pull her from whatever she’s doing and see if it fits her high standards. She makes my palm itch.”

Jeonghan laughs, moving to his feet as he folds the contract back up, slipping it into his bag as he speaks.

“Well luckily for you, spanking wasn’t one of the punishments that she crossed out.”

#joshua smut #seventeen smut #svthub #svt smut #joshua angst #seventeen angst #svt angst #the kings gambit contracts #the kings gambit #seventeen x reader #joshua x reader #svt x reader

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randomimaginesideas · 2 months

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Let me rage part 2

Summary; Finally reunited Valtor and (Y/n) can get back to conquer the magic dimension. (Y/N) gets to meet the Trix and shows why she is Valtor’s right hand. Deciding to infiltrate Alfea she meets the Winx, and becomes an important player in this battle.

This work is also published on AO3 under my username Acourtoffanficsandfeelings, if you prefer to read it there.

Continuation of Together again, and second part of let me rage.

A/N; First, I am incredibly sorry for the delay. I was having an intense writer's block for a certain part in this chapter and didn’t really know how to continue.

It seems that to this day Valtor is still a beloved character, and this fic still gets kudos, and comments. And that motivates me to write. So even if it has taken a while I hope I’ve managed to write a chapter you’re all very happy to read, as I did my best to make it as long as possible to make it up to you guys. While writing this chapter I concluded that this part of the series will be 3 chapters instead of the original two, as I felt it would have the story flow more.

Also because I hope this way to fetch out the character of the reader more, to give her some emotions, and struggles, while still remaining an badass amazing villain lover. And to show you some more moments between Valtor and (Y/N).

So I want to thank everybody again for sticking around,and reading this after my long absence, and if you just found the fic and this was already out when you found my fic, I hope you also enjoy everything that I’ve written so far.

Monday morning. Idle chatter could be heard filling the classroom as some of the Alfea students were waiting for their new teacher to make an appearance. A teacher who was ten minutes late. When the wooden doors started to creak, and announced the arrival of somebody the chatter slowly faded out, and silence filled the room. “Sorry class, I know I’m late, but as I’m sure some of you would agree with me, this school can be quite a maze.” The students, including the famous Winx, watched as the new teacher made her way towards the desk, and placed her bag on it before turning around to face her students. “Hello class, I’m Professor Whiteshade, and I am your new teacher specialized in Enchantix.”

While she was introducing herself (Y/N) could feel the eyes of the students observing her. They took in the white floor length dress that she wore, with the black belt across her waist. She could feel their eyes looking at her blond hair that was so pale it almost looked white when the lights hit it in a certain spot. It had been pulled into an intricate bun to keep the hair out of her face. (Y/N) didn't like the look she had currently on, but there have been worse faces she had turned into.

One of the students raised her hand, gaining (Y/N)’s attention who smiled at her. “Yes,-” She glanced down at one of the papers on her desk, pretending not to have seen Bloom before. Valtor had shown her some of the winx in his scrying orb and explained the most important facts she needed to know: like the fact that Bloom was the fairy of the dragon flame. “Bloom, is it?” The red head nodded, before asking her question. “Not to be rude professor, but why are we now suddenly getting this extra class in our curriculum?”

“Not rude at all, and an understandable question at that. I understand you’re not looking forward to more homework, so I will try to keep it at a minimum. As you all are well aware there is a new threat trying to conquer the magic dimension.” (Y/N) voice got serious as she looked across the room, seeing multiple defeated faces of the fairies who’s home had been affected by Valtor. A good person would have felt bad when she looked at those faces, but (Y/N) knew that sometimes things had to be destroyed for a new world to rise again. A world in which she and Valtor ruled the magic dimension.

“Headmistress Feragonda has asked me to come to Alfea, and teach and guide you students as you learn more about Enchantix in these troubling times. From the information I’ve gotten, two of you have already received your Enchantix.” (Y/N)’s eyes found those of Aisha and Stella, whom she gave a reassuring smile. “You should be proud of yourselves for earning your Enchantix, despite how grave the situation was in which you’ve gotten them.” (Y/N) focused on the class again. Aisha’s and Stella’s expression grew dark as (Y/N) could see the memories of those moments come back to the girls.

“Enchantix isn’t easily gained, it requires great sacrifice. I know of fairies who’ve nearly died in their efforts to earn their Enchantix. And sometimes you need to sacrifice your own happiness and choose to do what’s right because not everything that makes you happy is right.”

~~~

“Are you sure this is the only way?” (Y/n) asked as she looked at the beaten and locked up form of professor Whiteshade, who was currently lying unconscious on the floor. “You know that there is nobody I trust more with this than you.” (Y/N) felt Valtor place his hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her. The two of them were standing in front of Whiteshade’s cell, which was located one floor above Griffins, where Valtor had told her his plan regarding Alfea. “We need to have an inside source, and find the hall of enchantment. They will notice if I or the Trix slip by but they won’t notice you.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, knowing he was right, but not really agreeing with the plan.

“I’ve only just returned to you, and you wish to have me leave again.” She muttered, feeling rejected. Valtor quickly turned her around, guiding her by her shoulders. One of his hands grabbed her chin gently between two fingers, and tilted her head up. “That is a cruel thing to say, for you know that is not my intention. I’ve missed you with all my heart, and I dislike this plan as much as you do, but there is nobody I trust more with this than you. And the sooner this is over with, the sooner you can return to me.” Valtor said as he looked into her eyes, and pressed a brief kiss on (Y/N)’s lips.

A sigh left her lips afterwards as she enjoyed the closeness between them for a moment, knowing that she would have to part from it again so soon, and then she relented. “Alright, I’ll do it.” Valtor smiled at her as he slowly released her from his hold. (Y/N) turned to look at the real professor Whiteshade again, as she whispered a spell, closing her eyes. As soon as the spell had crossed her lips the shadows around them in the room seemed to twist and turn as they started to glide across her body. Through the glimpses of shadow Valtor could see her clothing change from the black dress she wore to a red sundress. Her (Y/H/C) turned into the lightest of blondes. And when the shadows moved away, and (Y/N) opened her eyes, even her eye color had changed.

She looked almost identical to the professor Whiteshade in the cell, only the trained eye would spot the differences. A mole that wasn’t there where it usually was, a scar that wasn’t there, perhaps a bit more weight on the arms or legs. (Y/N) had always been able to manipulate the shadows, to make things seem different from what actually, but only small things like books, trinkets or furniture. But during her years with Valtor he had taught her to think bigger, to practice her spells, and now she was almost able to place the spell on almost anything. For everything in the shadows is not what it seems.

~~~

It had been two weeks since (Y/N) had arrived at Alfea and she was annoyed. She knew she was doing important work for Valtor, passing along information from the room of enhancement to Valtor, but those types of things took time. It turned out that Alfea had finally invested in a librarian who took her work seriously. Although it wasn’t difficult for (Y/N) to charm Barbatea, and learn all about the library. But it also meant that Barbatea knew every nook and cranny, and would know it if things disappeared. So (Y/N) was forced to make copies of some of the lesser important spells, and tried to find substitutes for the more important books and scrolls. (Y/N) was particularly proud of the erotic romance novel she had managed to look like an ancient spell book. Now she just hoped that nobody would open the book.

After spending seventeen years as a statue, her powers were still on the weaker side. Each week she felt her power grow, and Valtor had helped her by sharing his power. But from the moment she had woken up she had used her magic continuously. Pretending to be Griffin when anybody would try to contact her to keep up the appearance that Cloud Tower was still standing. Or that one time they had intercepted a call from Feragonda to King Radius to ask how things were regarding the fountain, and King Radius had replied that; everything was quiet but they would keep an eye out for anything strange and notify her when they did. And now, (Y/N) had to continue to keep up the appearance as professor Whiteshade, and keep the illusions of the books going even if she wasn’t anywhere near them.

And on top of all that she had to actually teach the students something about Enchantix. The first couple of days (Y/N) had mostly placed the focus on introductions in the class, and to Enchanctix, telling what she knew of Enchantix, but she was running out of information. So one day she had made a parkour course for her Enchantix students, before letting them race the others. To make the students see how much stronger they would become if they earned Enchantix, and why it came with such a heavy price.

But the thing that kept (Y/N) going was the fact that she knew Valtor was growing stronger every time she sent him something through the shadows. And Valtor also seemed to know when to say something to her, even when he couldn’t speak with her.

~~~

It was dark in the library, most of the Alfea students were in bed, as were most of its teachers. Barbatea had just wished (Y/N) goodnight, after (Y/N) had promised the librarian she would lock up behind her, but just wanted to research one more thing before her class tomorrow. (Y/N) had turned off the lights, preferring the light from the moon shining through the windows. (Y/N) always waited half an hour after everybody had left to make sure that Barbatea wouldn’t just reappear.

When the half hour had passed (Y/N) slowly rose from the chair she had been vacating, and she closed the book she had been reading. From her bag, which was filled with her students' homework to keep up appearances, she grabbed a gardening book that she had taken from the greenhouse earlier today. After placing it on the table right next to the one she had been reading previously, she placed her hands on top of the books, one on each. (Y/N) closed her eyes, and tried to focus. “Mirror image.” She whispered as she felt her magic move beneath her hands. The headache that had been slowly growing bigger these past week, grew stronger with the new spell she casted.

When (Y/N) opened her eyes she let out a sigh of frustration. It almost looked like the spell had only taken half effect. The title of the spellbook had been transferred to the gardening book, but the flowery cover could still be seen underneath.

(Y/N) lifted her head to look at the ceiling as she took another deep breath, trying to soothe the headache, and focus on the shadows she was already controlling. Her image of professor Whiteshade, and covers of around fifteen books she was trying to keep up, while focusing on creating a new one. If she focused, she could feel the shadow connecting the books together, although weak as it was, it was there. (Y/N) tried to imagine Valtor standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders, placing a kiss on her lips as she had her head tilted backwards. And his words he had whispered to her long ago that fateful day; that she was strong, that she was capable of anything, as long as she remained by his side.

“I miss you.” (Y/N) confessed to the quiet library, with only the moonlight and the shadows as her company. It had been two weeks of no contact with either Valtor or the Trix. And after only a week with Valtor,before she had gone to Alfea, after being stuck in stone for seventeen years felt like a short time to be together again. But (Y/N) also knew that they would have all the time in the world together once Valtor and her conquer the magic dimension.

Thinking with their end goal in mind (Y/N) returned her attention back to her task at hand. “Mirror image.” She said again, and this time when she opened her eyes, she had two identical books. Or at least when you didn’t look too closely. Perhaps a tear wasn’t in the place it always was, and maybe the letter R was a different font but didn’t look out of place at first glance.

(Y/N) stood up and placed the duplicate copy back in the place it belonged, before grabbing the original and walking to a shadowed corner of the library, a place where the moonlight didn’t reach. (Y/N) squatted down and waved her hand, the shadows twisting underneath into a calm whirlpool of shadows. She imagined Cloud Tower, more specially Valtor’s desk, next to the scrying orb as she pushed the book into the shadows, and dropped it.

(Y/N) stood back up again, and went to turn around when she heard a small thunk, and something hitting her ankle. The shadows had gone quiet again, no longer moving as their mistress had no longer any use of them. But that wasn’t what caught (Y/N)’s attention, for she had expected them to be quiet. No, on the ground near her ankle she saw a small circle with something sticking out of it.

After picking it up, (Y/N) made her way towards the window. In the moonlight she saw she was holding onto a ring with a small note attached to it. Before (Y/N) studied the ring she opened up the note. It was a small letter, one that would sometimes have been tied to the foot of a bird. The only message on it was; As promised. Two days.

(Y/N) turned her attention towards the ring. It was a ring that was on the wider side. The first thing that caught her attention was how blue it was. When she looked closer she recognized the blue to be some type of coral, from andros more specifically. The whole inside of the ring was made of polished blue coral, the sides inlaid with gold to give it a more delicate effect. A smile came on (Y/N)’s face as she brought the ring to her chest and held it there for a moment.

Seventeen years ago Valtor had promised her all the jewelry her heart desired when they were rulers of the magic dimension. (Y/N) had mentioned how her sister had gotten a ring from Andros, which had used coral instead of diamonds, and how she had always wanted a ring like that. And how some corals from Andros were worth more than some of the most expensive diamonds. So that was why her sister only had one small part of her ring infused with the coral. In response Valtor had promised she would have the most beautiful ring of Andros one day, even prettier than her sisters.

(Y/N) remembered how Aisha hadn’t been in class today as there was another attack on Andros. Seemed like Valtor had remembered his promise. With a smile (Y/N) placed the ring around her, or rather professor Whiteshade’s, finger. She tore up the paper and threw it in the trash, making sure nobody would be able to read it, and even then it couldn’t be traced back to her. With renewed strength (Y/N) made her way out of the library, and towards her bedroom.

~~~

That had been two days ago. It was now Saturday, and everybody, teachers and students, were free to do as they pleased today. But (Y/N) had been on edge the whole day, just waiting for something to happen. She kept herself busy by making sure all her shadows were still where she needed them to be, and keeping her head ache to a minimum. But she did all that from the solitude of her bedroom. (Y/N) was in the habit of keeping her curtains almost closed, not a fan of the burning daylight.

Her attention was pulled when the small streak of light that came from the crack in between the curtains turned dark. Opening her curtains she could see storm clouds gathering above Alfea as it started to rain. If (Y/N) hadn’t suspected something was amiss, the fact that the magic barrier was going up was a definite sign.

Relief and excitement coursed through (Y/N)’s body. Relief that her stay in Alfea would finally be over, and excitement to know the future that will be waiting for them. (Y/N) stepped out of her room and ran into professor Palladium and professor Wizgiz who had also been residing in their chambers. The tree of them ran up towards one of the rooftops, knowing that Faragonda had gone there to activate the barrier. “Miss Faragonda!” Professor Palladium called out to her, gaining her attention.

“Brace yourself. The lighting is bewitched, and clearly the work of Valtor.” Faragonda warned them as she turned to look back in the sky. Up in the storm clouds the mark of Valtor had appeared, whenever the lighting struck it grew brighter. Faragonda turned her attention back to the professors at her side. “Keep your eyes open, be prepared,-” “Look, he’s using the witches from Cloud Tower.” Professor Wizgiz said, pointing towards the storm cloud. Professor Wizgiz was right. From the storm clouds, they’re hands outstretched came the lighting that had previously been in the clouds. The lighting struck the magical barrier, and with Valtor controlling them the magic of the witches was a lot stronger than they’d normally had, making the barrier fall apart.

Faragonda turned back around to face her colleagues. “Alright, get the girls. They’ll need our help, and we’ll need theirs.” Faragonda said with confidence before she was hit with lighting from behind. Luckily with everything going on it just seemed like professor Whiteshade stepped away from the blast to protect herself, and certainly not because she didn’t feel the need to catch the headmistress. (Y/N) had to give credit where credit was due, and Faragonda quickly got back up again. “Alright, you two,-” Faragonda looked in the direction of the professor's Palladium and Wizgiz. “Gather all the fairies and prepare for battle.” The two professors ran off as the barrier fully broke, and tiny glittering pieces fell down the sky.

Then Faragonda looked professor Whiteshade in the eyes. “Go to the library and don’t let any of the information get into the wrong hands.” (Y/N) turned to walk towards the library when she heard Faragonda call out her lover’s name, which made her stop in her tracks. Faragonda was way too focused on Valtor who came down from the sky to notice that she had stopped.

Valtor landed with two feet on the ground, arms folded together in front of his chest. “We meet again, Faragonda, it has been a while.” Valtor smiled as he tilted his head slightly sideways, almost as if he pitied the woman standing in front of him. “You’ve grown old.” He added chuckling. For the briefest of moments (Y/N) saw his eyes go over Faragonda’s shoulder in her direction, before returning towards the furious headmistress.

“You’ve bewitched the girls from Cloud Tower.” She accused before throwing a spell at him in her anger. Valtor managed to easily catch the spell with his hand, before throwing it back in Faragonda’s direction, which managed to hit her in the chest. Faragonda flew backwards towards the edge of the roof, hitting the brick wall. She landed close to (Y/N), who was now calmly inspecting the spectacle. Now that Faragonda could see that professor Whiteshade had remained standing, (Y/N) could see the clogs in her head turning. “I’ve always been known to be rather persuasive.” Valtor said, walking closer towards them as (Y/N) slowly started to make his way towards him. “No, no!” Faragonda muttered, almost shocked, as realization slowly started to dawn on her. “Or should I say, we are very persuasive.”

“I suppose we are.” (Y/N) chuckled, as she let herself drop the image of professor Whiteshade for a moment. With each blink of Faragonda’s eyes a different person was standing next to Valtor. One moment in her place stood the professor, then Griffin, and then King Radius , and with the next blink shadows circled around the woman standing next to Valtor, revealing the woman lying behind the shadows, beneath all the false faces she created. A smile on her lips that Faragonda knew all too well from many years ago, then the professor was back in place but the smile still remained. “Well, as fun as this little reunion is, I was under strict orders to make sure the information in the library would not fall under the wrong hands.” (Y/N) told Valtor, who matched the smile on her face.

“Well then, you better get going. Faragonda and I have a lot of catching up to do anyway.”

#imagine #imagine valtor #valtor x reader #winx club valtor #valtor imagine #winx valtor #winx baltor #baltor #winx club #canon divergence

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cyberrose2001 · 1 year

Text

TFP Optimus x human!fem!reader

“Hi Rose! First of all, I love your writing and I hope you are doing well! My request is NSFW (since I read that you take this sort of request), and I got an idea: TFP Optimus Prime x Female Reader in a f#ck or die situation. I hope it’s something you’re comfortable doing!” - Anon

Hi Anon! I'm doing well thank you! And thanks for requesting! I am comfortable with fuck or die fics/sex pollen, as long as it is not straight up non-consensual. Both parties have to have some sort of feelings for each other.

This is pretty long oops hehe, but I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Smut, dub-con, slight mention of bodily harm, slight angst, voyeurism.

Word count: 2566

The situation was… dire, to say the least. You thought that it would just be a recon mission with Bumblebee, nothing too serious, however things have turned ass over head now that Soundwave has shown up. You squirm and kick at his servos in a pathetic attempt to get him to release you, but it only made the Decepticon spy squeeze you tighter, “Let me the fuck go!”

Soundwave displayed no emotion whatsoever, typical. He turned around to face the Autobot that was advancing towards him, dodging the blasts aimed at the scout. Bumblebee then watched in horror as Soundwave turned back around and activated a ground bridge and entered through it, with you still in his grasp.

Oh shit, Bumblebee stared as the bridge disappeared, this is not good…

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SOUNDWAVE TOOK HER?” Ratchet shouted at Bumblebee, who was is a panic trying to explain what had happened to you to the rest of the team, “What would HE want to do with a HUMAN?”

Bumblebee holds his servos up in defence, he beeps, I don’t know! I turned around for one second and then I see him grab her! I tried to get her back but he just up and left.

“Well now we have no idea where she is, for primus sake,” Ratchet scoffs, “She could be anywhere on this planet, it will be impossible to track her down.”

Optimus stands next to Ratchet, listening to Bumblebee, his optical ridges are furrowed as he hides the boiling rage inside of him. You were his human companion; you were his responsibility and now he regrets ever letting you convince him to accompany Bumblebee on his patrol. He just couldn’t say no to your pleading eyes, he just couldn’t say no to the human he had developed further feelings for.

“Optimus,” Arcee crosses her arms, “What’s the plan? Wait it out or go in with guns blazing?”

Optimus looks at her, the anger in his eyes not going unnoticed by the rest of the team. He needs to do something.

“Ratchet, activate the ground bridge,” Optimus looks to the medic, “I will go alone and face them. Be on stand-by for when I request backup.”

“What?” Ratchet says, but when he notices Optimus’s stern glare, he sighs in defeat and activates the ground bridge to the location where you were kidnapped, “Are you sure, Optimus?”

He watches as Optimus pings Megatron on the main computer in the base, “Megatron, meet me at these coordinates. You bring the human back or you will face dire consequences.”

And with that, Optimus ran towards the ground bridge and transforms into his alt mode. He is praying to primus for your safety. The rest of team prime watch as their leader disappears into the ground bridge, unsure of what is to come.

“Optimus is going to lose his shit when he finds out about this.” You growl. Currently you were chained to a large metal gurney on the Nemesis, one built for a Cybertronian. The chains wrap around your wrists binding them together. The leader of the Decepticons himself was directly in front of you, watching you as you struggle at the chains. Soundwave stood next to him.

“Indeed, human.” Megatron laughs at your pitifulness, “That is why we have brought you here.”

“Soundwave has brought to my attention that Optimus seems to have a,” Megatron continues and leans down towards you, making you flinch, “Preference towards you.”

You side eye him (BOMBASTIC SIDE EYE), unsure of what to think of his statement, “Uh, that’s because he is my guardian? He is supposed to protect me.”

Megatron scoffs, “You misunderstand his intentions, human. I may be his enemy now, but I have known him since he was a young Orion Pax. I know what his true nature is towards you.”

“What do you mean?” You questioned; he can’t possibly be suggesting that Optimus has feelings for you. But you linger at the possibility, as you seem to have some feelings for the Prime as well. His protectiveness towards you, the way he looks at you with such care and admiration, and the quiet conversations you would have together while he held you. You had never seen him display that kind of care for anyone else on the team, and now you’re realising why that might be. Your face flushes at the thought.

Megatron was just about to give you an answer, but he was interrupted by a ping from his com.

“Megatron, meet me at these coordinates. You bring the human back or you will face dire consequences.”

“Ah, I knew he couldn’t resist.” Megatron turns to you and stares you down with intimidating red optics, “You will stay here until my return, do not try to escape, or you will become Knockout’s next patient.”

You slowly nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. You were hesitant to make any sort of movement. He stands up tall again and turns to Soundwave.

“Triangulate the coordinates.”

Optimus jumps out of the portal and transforms back into his robot mode, his vigilant optics scanning the area for any sign of Decepticons. Ahead of him he sees a ground bridge open and sees Megatron walking out towards him. Optimus clenches his servos, seeing that you were nowhere to be found.

“Optimus!” Megatron sneers, “What a wonderful surprise.”

“Where is she.” Optimus demands, a growl in his voice. He activates his face shield.

“If you wish to see your precious pet again,” Megatron looms closer to Optimus, “You must do what I ask.”

Optimus quirks an optical ridge, unsure of Megatron’s intentions. However, he remains on guard in-case of a fight, “And what are you proposing, Megatron?”

“I have intel that you care very deeply for this human, Optimus,” Megatron says, “More than just a simple guardianship.”

Optimus is standing there in shock, optics wide. How does Megatron know this information? He has not shared anything about his feelings towards the human with anyone, not even his own team.

“What are your intentions?” Optimus asks.

Megatron laughs deeply and draws his canon at Optimus, “You come with me and do what I tell you, or you will perish.”

Optimus groans in pain as someone from behind shocks him with vaults of electricity, falling to the ground and goes into stasis. Knockout spins the long taser in his servos.

Megatron looks down at Optimus, then back up to Knockout, “Take him through the ground bridge.”

“My pleasure, Megatron.”

Optimus groans as he comes to, the events of the last hour are foggy in his processor. Once his optics stop spinning, he gets a baring of where he is. He is in a room somewhere on the Nemesis, with only one doorway. He looks around some more, but his audial receptors pick up a small whimper.

There you were, chained up and sitting on the same berth as him. His optics widen and he attempts to grab you but realises that he is too chained up.

“Optimus!” You cry out to him. The sight of you in pain and helpless bring a pang of guilt to his spark. Bruises had covered your wrists from the many attempts to snap your chains.

“(Y/n), are you alright?” Optimus gently asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You try your best to stay strong for him, but he knows you’re far from ok. You flinch as you hear a door slam, looking towards the noise you see Megatron, Soundwave and Knockout walk in.

“I see you have realised your predicament, Optimus.” Megatron says, “But allow Knockout to explain what is about to happen.”

Knockout walks up to you and Optimus, sneering at both of you, “Soundwave and I are curious to know, how much force does it take to split a human into two?”

Optimus is frozen. They’re going to hurt you and make him watch the whole thing.

“Soundwave has observed you become attached to this… putrid human,” Knockout spat at the word human, as if it left a disgusting taste on his glossa, “And we decided that you both will be a perfect candidate for an experiment.”

You and Optimus both look at each other, concern is plastered all over your face.

“You have two choices, Optimus.” Megatron takes over, “Either interface with the human or we will kill you both.”

Optimus optics are blown wide open at his words. He genuinely cannot believe that Megatron was going to force him to perform such an act on you. He looks to you with guilt in his optics.

You stare up at him in disbelief, there was no way that you were comfortable doing this, at least not at this time nor place. But you couldn’t let him be killed by the hands of the Megatron. Your body sinks in on itself and you begin to sob.

Optimus looks away from you and squeezes his optics shut, his spark cannot bare to witness your cries. He too feels the same way, the thought of you dying is unfathomable to him.

“I cannot perform such acts of indecency on (Y/n),” Optimus lowers his head, pulling at the chains on his arms, “I do not wish to harm- “

“I’ll do it.”

Optimus’s helm snaps towards you, optics softening at your state, “(Y/n), please.”

“Optimus I don’t want to see you die,” You look up at his optics, tears spilling over your cheeks, “If I have to do this just so you can live another day, then I will.”

The three Decepticons in the room seem satisfied with your answer.

“Wise choice, human.” Megatron locks the door, trapping all of you inside. There is no getting away from this now.

Knockout rolls his optics, “Alright enough with the sappiness. Now hurry up and get to it, I won’t have all day to clean human goo of the berth when we’re done.”

Soundwave engages his tentacles and drags the both of you closer together by the chains on your wrists so you’re both flush against each other.

“Open up big guy,” Knockout shoves Optimus forward so he is now hovering over top of you, He grunts as he lands on his forearms, which are now on either side of your head. You would be a flustered mess if this was a different scenario, but the guilty look in Optimus’s optics brings you pain.

Optimus reluctantly opens his interface panel, revealing a very large erect spike. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but gawk, bio lights pulsing with energon on the sides. He can feel you staring and his face flushes a small tinge of blue.

“Your turn fleshy,” Knockout nods to Soundwave, allowing him to use one of his tentacles to rip the clothes of your body. You squirm as you feel the fabric being thrown off, now fully vulnerable. Soundwaves tentacles move to your thighs and pushes them up against your chest, “My, would you look at that Optimus? She is presenting to you, all ready for you to fuck her. How pathetic.”

Optimus is angered at the tone of language Knockout is speaking to you in, but he cannot deny that the sight of your body sends a wave of energon to his spike. Optimus looks into your eyes, but then looks away as he sees how embarrassed you are.

“I’m so sorry,” Optimus lines himself up to your pussy, breath hitching as he can already feel how hot you are, “Please forgive me.”

You scream out in agony as Optimus slowly pushes himself into you. Inch by inch you can feel yourself stretching over his tip. Optimus whispers soft reassurances into you ear as well as apologies whilst you adjust to the sheer size of his spike. He struggles to push himself to the hilt, however Megatron grabs hold of his hips and pushes him further into you. Optimus groans in pleasure, now fully engulfed in your heat.

“I would suggest that you move faster,” Megatron then places his canon at point blank to Optimus’s helm. Optimus winces, then complies as he drags his spike out of you, then thrusts back in your pussy. You whine and moan at the full feeling of his spike thrusting into you, face scrunched in pleasure. With tears in your eyes, you try to peer into his optics, but he refuses to look at you, his spark filled with shame.

“Optimus…” You moan, beginning to become undone. “Optimus, haAAH! Please… look at me.”

He reluctantly looks back at you, your forehead slick with sweat and bits of your hair sticking to it. You looked so raw and so beautiful, but he cannot hide his shame from you.

“Optimus,” He watched as you threw you head back, “I want you to... I want you to know that...”

You gasp as he presses a kiss to your lips, his thrusts getting sloppy, and his hips are quivering. You cry and whimper into the kiss as he pushes himself to the hilt deep inside you.

“Yes, Optimus. Ruin her, tell you how you feel won’t you?” Megatron smugly says. Knockout and Soundwave are also watching the whole thing play out in front of them, one is absolutely disgusted by the amount of human fluids dripping out of her and one is intently taking notes on your body’s reaction and the noises you make to being spiked.

Optimus pulls away from the kiss and bends down to the side of your head and whispers into your ear, attempting to keep his moans at bay, “Shhhh, it’s… it’s alright. I already know.”

The three Decepticons watch as Optimus’s overload takes over his systems, his helm buried next to your neck and hips flush against your own. They watch as you scream out as he pumps you full of his transfluids, he whispers soft nothings and comforting words for you as he lets you ride out your orgasm. When he is finished, his forearms are shaking from keeping himself from collapsing onto you, heavily venting.

“The human is surprisingly resilient,” Megatron hums, he looks to his two henchmen. “Keep them in here, further experimentation is required.”

Knockout groans out of disgust, “Of course, Lord Megatron. But next time do get someone else to clean up this mess, human body fluids are utterly repulsive.”

Megatron leans into Optimus’s audial receptors, a wicked grin on his dermas, “Please make yourself comfortable, you both will be here for a while.”

Optimus watches Megatron exit the room and hangs his head in defeat, he looks towards you. You were an absolute mess, but you give him a reassuring smile, thankful that you’re both not dead.

He heavily vents, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss on your cheek. You wrap your arms around his helm the best that you can with the chains still tight around your wrists.

“Optimus, I hope you know that I don’t hate you…” You stare into his optics, the blue hue completely covering your body in the now darkness, “Please don’t ever feel that way, I love you so much.”

Optimus’s spark is warmed at your confession, he closes his tear-filled optics and gently rests his helm against your head, “I love you too, but I failed in keeping you safe… from this moment on I will not rest until Megatron is dead. He will pay for what he has done.”

#transformers #transformers prime #transformers prime x human reader #tfp optimus x human reader #tfp optimus x reader #tfp #valveplug

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fancyfade · 7 months

Note

i've seen you say (at least i think it was you) that they should retcon Damian's origins in order to get Talia to stop being seen as a terrible awful person. I agree but I'm also curious if you had any ideas on how you'd like it to be done? I personally think Damian being a trained assassin is important to his character and getting rid of that would be kind of boring.. so would you want to nix that completely or would you just want Talia to not be involved/not know about it etc?

I am one of I assume a few people who talk about retconning Damian's origins.

I first gave the idea serious contemplation after this post (link). It pretty much perfectly outlines how you can get current Damian and pre-Morrison Talia in the same verse. Damian wasn't even initially raised by his mom in Morrison's comics, he says he met her on his 8th birthday and it was like being introduced to a movie star, and he explains that she wasn't there for him often and running an organized crime empire didn't leave time for raising a child.

Which like. this was all in Morrison's 'talia as supervillain' thing, but it could easily be retooled in the way the OP outline.

ANYWAY rather than repeating the OP I linked word-for-word, I shall shamelessly plug my fanfic that works on this same concept.

The way my mother didn't raise me (link).

Talia al Ghul, who believes she left the world of her father and the League of Shadows behind, discovers that her father has been raising her son she believed died in infancy as an assassin. Damian al Ghul, who has never met his parents before, is baffled when he finds his mother is nothing like he expected her to be. The premise of this fic is partially trying to unify Damian's existence with pre Morrison Talia, which is somewhat difficult but I don't think impossible, and that means partially trying to give Talia a place in 2000 era comics after her Lexcorp run is over (and they start writing her terribly ;_;) The general idea is: after Talia's Lexcorp mission is done, she finds out about Damian's existence and makes it her goal to subtly extract him from the League.

#talia al ghul #damian wayne #dc comics #my fanfic #anon #ask

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riallasheng · 26 days

Text

Answering an Ask

In an unusual way, because my darn tumblr be broken and didn't show the ask in my inbox! Fortunatly, @edutainer2022 PMed me to make sure I got it! ^^

===============

Hi! Just in case the asks act out, some ask game points for you:

🍒 What’s your favorite character dynamic to write? (Can be romantic or platonic, specific or general!)

🥭 Rank from most enjoyable/fun to write to least: Fluff, Smut, Angst, Crack.

🍏 Is there something you overuse, whether it’s a certain phrase, trope, or piece of punctuation?

🍐 Is there anything in canon that you absolutely hate and love to fix in fics? A wrong choice made, a fuck-up in characterization, a misunderstanding never cleared up, a conversation never shown onscreen, etc…

=============

🍒 What’s your favorite character dynamic to write? (Can be romantic or platonic, specific or general!)

Platonic and/or familial! While I can and will write romance, there's always a heavy focus on the friendship of the characters, more than the romantic ^^

----------

🥭 Rank from most enjoyable/fun to write to least: Fluff, Smut, Angst, Crack.

Well, I don't actually write Smut at all (closest I'll come is Lime, and usually I'll only write Orange. I've never actually written even a Lemon, let alone anything more hard core than that), and the closest I get to Crack is 'here is a silly thing that canonically could happen' rather than true crack.

Sooooo....

Drama (angst, fluff, serious, comedy, and bunch of other stuff rather than a heavy focus in just one type.) FAR and away my favorite.

Angst & Whump (as old fanwoman is old and I go by the definition that ANGST is mental/emotional 'harm' that may have a physical element or trigger, but is all about the emotions and mind. Meanwhile Whump is physical 'harm' that may have an emotional/mental element or trigger, but is all about the physical). I generally prefer it to be an ELEMENT of a story, and I strongly prefer hurt/comfort, but I do have some instances fics / ficbits that are (mostly) solid angst and I'm more likely to have Angst scenes / elements in my works than Fluff

Fluff: tends to be only sparingly and mixed in admist other things, and even my 'pure' fluff pieces like A Cure for Boredom were cahracter and fan-lore explorations alongside the fluff. Mostly because pure fluff BORES ME ^^;;

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

🍏 Is there something you overuse, whether it’s a certain phrase, trope, or piece of punctuation?

Ellipses, probably XD I actually try to alter my writing style to a degree depending on who the viewpoint character is, but I am ANYTHING but brief (even though I know brief / less is more is the 'in' thing now). So I tend to have lots of details and asides and descriptions and trend much more towards being VERY wordy

-----------

Oh yeah, many things XD There's always at least ONE 'fix it' in every fic I write. Sometimes small, sometimes BIG... I try to give my reasoning for any / all changes, I do my best to respect that other people may have totally different takes than me. But yeah, there's always fix-its in my fics for things that bug me or that I flat out hate

Heck, in an example that I'm currently writing (well, re-writing as back in the Naughts this darn thing was COMPLETE and now I'm re-writing it from memory XD ). In As the Wyrm Turns and my fanfic Universe in general....

I moved Marineville. I've always HATED that it's canon location for a REALLY LONG LIST OF REASONS THAT ARE VERY VALID DARN IT, so I moved it to Maine (Isle Au Haut specifically). On top of solving most of my list o' issues, it also meant that I could have the Aquaphibians living in or near 'Atlantis' ^^

#ask game #(technically)#edutainer2022

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arsenalgbt · 2 months

Note

i’m not sure how you feel about toxic arteta hcs or whatever but…

you know how arteta is doing his little rescue thing with players? taking almost-failed worship kid martin and making him captain? bring in chelsea-rejects jorgi and kai and turning them into integral midfield players? that’s all well and good on the pitch, but off the pitch? what if he revels in the knowledge that he’s taken these players and “resurrected” them? what if he gets off on the fact that he’s taken their tattered careers in his hands and seen them back to near perfection. what if they worship him and devote themselves to him because of that?

and what happens when one of those rescue players (ramsdale) finds themselves being rejected by the one who saved them and try to do anything and give themselves entirely to gain mikel’s favour again?

maybe bot 100% dark arteta but most certainly grey in the power he wields over the players he’s “rescued” because he’s established himself as some powerful and kind figure to them that they should be grateful to. because not everybody would look at them in their lowest moments and try to uplift them, but arteta did so they should thank him for that, right?

anyways that’s enough, no point cluttering your inbox <33

oh I am SOOOOOOOOOOO unqualified for this kinda arteta discourse ngl! nudging @purefractals and @longeyelashedtragedy cuz they deffo will find your toxic!arteta HCs interesting.

I also find this interesting, so allow me to add my minuscule take about his blatant favouritism LMAO. granit is the prime example, but that one is deffo "pure"; his first project. he succeeded. no hate on Eddie but when he kept being a starter without cooking anything???? naur.

the one with Aaron tho fucking chefs kiss anon. I will never forget his motherfucking "perhaps we (Arsenal football club) can be the kinda club that sub gk during a match" bs (not the exact sentence he spouted, but close I think lol). cuz wtf was that bruv. have you done what you cheekily said to the media???????? the answer is no.

listen I might be confusing HCs as in like fics-wise or HCs as in serious real life take lol............................... I have answered another anon before that eventho I ship xhakarteta, I really don't have the drive in me to write more about them. in my writing/shipping brain, they are perfect - I don't want my writing/my take tainting what I think of them ya feel me!

the Aaron situation. im still in denial ngl, but I do see the difference Raya does to the team's performance. kudos to him for staying chill af irl tbf.

sorry to disappoint but plsss both my Tumblr inbox and ao3 inbox are currently depressing right now so send me nude---I mean send me anything!

#je suis #intriguing thought provoking

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bbyquokka · 2 years

Text

betrayal

pairing: bang chan x fem reader

genre: angst, smut – MDNI

synopsis: chan betrayed your trust. he tries his best to show you how sorry he is, but did it worked? or was it too much for you to bear.

warnings: cheating, heartbreak, elevated feelings, smut, unprotected sex, make-up sex, heated moment, explicit language, nipple play, clit play, pussy eating, rutting, face-riding, possessiveness, jealousy, creampie, some masturbation [ m ], pet names [ pup, my love, baby ], biting, mentions of insecurities, anxiety and imperfections – if i missed any, lmk!!

words: 5k

tag: @bellamuerte1987

a/n: i cried whilst writing this – especially the ending! why am i like this, lmaoo. anyways, i hope y'all enjoy this mess. i am currently battling a cold rn so if it seems jumbled up, that's because it is, lmaoo.🤧

Feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated as they help get my fics/blog out there. please let me know what you think, ty for the support and love as of lately! i hope y'all enjoy!

♡ m.list

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

Silence. The background noise of your TV became a distant sound. Dizziness and nausea slowly creeping its way to the back of your throat. Your ears ringing. You're staring at your phone screen, eyes watering from either not blinking for 5 minutes or because of what you were seeing.

Your heart shattering into a million pieces, palms sweaty. Heartbreak, anger, disgust was all you could feel. Emotions and adrenaline coursing through your veins. You couldn't believe your eyes.

Minho 😈 [22:30]: im sry, (Y/N) you have to see this…

Minho 😈 [22:31] picture attached

I'm so so sry…

Chan, your lover of only 3 months, was photographed kissing someone else. As soon as you saw it, your mouth ran dry. You wanted to scream, punch the cushions, smash things up around your apartment in fits of rage – but you couldn't.

You felt numb. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the screen. Occasionally zooming in with your index and pointer finger for the millionth time to make sure it is who Minho said it is.

You thought it was a joke, a big practical joke on you when Minho explained it was Chan. You and Minho don't get on at the best of times, you're both headstrong people with strong opinions, so naturally you both clash, however, Minho isn't that type of person to make something as serious as this up.

You swallowed a lump in your throat. You clenched your jaw, your throat becoming dry in an instant. No matter how many times you swallowed, your throat stayed dry. Soon enough, you ran out of saliva.

You took deep breaths, closing your eyes and counting to ten, slowly. You blinked back hot tears, swallowing down your nausea. You walked to the kitchen, your bare feet slapping softly against the wooden floor.

Grabbing a glass, you filled it up with cold water. You placed your phone screen side down at the breakfast bar, parking yourself on the high stool as you sipped your water and waiting, staring into the void.

You didn't have to wait long. Soon enough, a cheerful Chan came in through the door, unaware that his life was about to be turned upside down. Humming, he kicked his shoes off before walking inside, looking around for you. You stared at him, placing your glass down on the breakfast bar. Chan grinned when he saw you, walking to you with a bounce in his step.

"Hey baby!" Chan said cheerfully, unaware of what's to come. He smelt of sweat and alcohol, with a hint of cheap perfume. It enraged you even more.

Chan leaned in to kiss your lips but you instantly turned your head, denying his kiss as his lips connected with your cheek. Chan pulled away slowly, feeling your hostile mood. His brows furrowed, smile turning into a frown.

"Babe? You okay?" His voice laced with concern. You simply shrugged, picking up your glass and sipping your water.

"I don't know Chan. You tell me." You replied, voice monotone. Chan blinked, trying to read your emotions or body language, but to no avail.

"I don't understand." You scoffed, short puffs of hot air escaping your nostrils. You put your glass down and looked at Chan for the first time since he got home.

Chan swallowed. Your somewhat calm demeanor scaring him. His mind working overtime to figure out what he has – or hasn't – done. You took deep breaths, chest rising before you grabbed your phone. You opened it, the picture staring at you once again. Refusing to let your hot tears fall, you pressed your lips in a thin line, eyes blinking rapidly.

You flipped your phone, showing Chan the screen you had been staring at for an hour and a half. His eyes widened in horror.

"Where-"

"Minho. Minho sent it me." You replied coldly, cutting Chan off mid sentence. Chan sighed deeply, running his fingers through his hair.

"That bastard" He mumbled under his breath. You raised a brow, your anger resurfacing – this time, you allowed it to take control of your body. You exploded.

"Seriously Chan?!" Chan's head shot up as you slammed your phone down on the breakfast bar. "I show you a picture of you sucking the face off some other women and your first instinct is to call your best friend a bastard?!"

"I-No!" Chan exclaimed. You stood up, standing in front of him. Your body hot with rage, words spewing from your mouth.

"Then what Chan?! Why? Why did you do it?"

"It was-" Chan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck "It was a dare. Changbin dared me to, so I did." You laughed in disbelief, your eyes narrowing into thin slits as you glared at Chan.

"A dare? Seriously, a fucking dare?! Y'know what it's like, Chan. To sit here day in day out, constantly thinking whether you will be home or not? Do you know how anxious I feel, knowing that you're out there, getting shitfaced?!"

"I-Im sorry, babe! it means nothing!"

"It doesn't matter whether it meant something or not, Chan!! You still kissed someone else!" Your vision blurry with tears. You hastily wiped your eyes with the back of your hand as Chan pressed his lips together in a thin line. Before he could stop himself, the words spewed from his mouth without a second thought.

"Oh come on, (Y/N) it's not like I fucked her there and then. It's not a big deal, just some stupid dare." Chan's eyes widened once he registered what he said. You stood in front of him in disbelief, shocked and speechless at what he just said.

"fuck, fuck, babe, I didn't mean it. I-"

"You're right. You didn't fuck her, well done. But why has it taken for Minho to tell me this?! Huh? Would you have told me yourself, or would you have just pretended nothing had happened and lied to me?"

You shoved Chan's chest, pushing him close to the wall with each word you spoke. This time, you allowed your tears to fall. You allowed all the pent up feelings you were suppressing to explode.

"I would have, I'm sorry!" Chan's own eyes filled with tears as he allowed you to shove him against the wall.

"Sorry for doing it or sorry you got caught?" You questioned.

"Oh, come on! Of course I'm sorry for doing it. It meant nothing to me! You're the only person I have eyes for, pup!" Your lip turned at the corner in disgust.

"It doesn't matter whether it meant something or not. You. Still. Did. It!" Tears cascading down your cheeks. Your breath labored as your throat was getting sore from shouting. A headache slowly creeping its way in.

"I know, I know whatever I say won't make a change, but believe me when I say I love you and I always will!" Chan pleaded. You laughed, kicking your head back at his words.

"Love? No you don't Chan because if you did, you wouldn't have done it! You didn't think of me at all when you kissed her. Nothing in your mind told you not to do this, to tell changbin no and that you're not going to do the dare! You still went along with it and if Minho wasn't there, you would have gotten away with it as well!"

Chan looked at the ground, feeling defeated. No matter what he said, nothing could make you change your mind about this.

"I have been, so fucking faithful to you Chan. I have put my trust into you and for what? for you to stomp on it." Your voice was shaky as you spoke, your heart breaking all over again.

Chan looked up at you, his own heart breaking at the sight of you. Eye and cheeks puffy, a red tint across your cheeks from anger, a cold sweat lay across your forehead. Your beautiful eyes glossy with tears. He loves you so much and he has royally fucked up.

"You know how I feel about stuff like this Chan." You whispered. Chan's heart dropped to his stomach, panic settling on his facial features.

"N-No! Please.." You looked at the ground, sobs shaking your figure. You wiped your eyes and cheeks. Chan placed a hand on your shoulder gently, only for you to slap it away. Chan pressed his lips together, tears falling down his face.

"Pup, please don't.. I love you so much. Please. Just let me prove to you how sorry I am!" Chan begged. Short splutters of air escaped your lips, your ability to calm down failing.

"I-I love you t-too, Chan. But you betrayed me. You h-hurt me.."

"I know, I know pup. Just please, give me another chance." Chan whispered, wrapping his arms around you. This time, you allowed it. You allowed yourself to drown in this familiar warmth – a warmth you call home. You allowed Chan to pull you close to his chest, his gentle hands wiping away your tears as his own continued to fall.

"Don't cry, my love. I hate seeing you like this."

"YOU did this!" You shot back, words bitter. Chan simply nodded, cupping your cheeks in both his hands so you were forced to look at him.

"I'm sorry, pup. Please, give me another chance, or at least, let me prove to you how much you mean to me." His voice barely a whisper.

You weakly shook your head, failing to get out of his grip. You avoided eye contact because you know just with one look into those beautiful eyes, and you're putty in his hands.

"Look at me." You whimpered, refusing "Pup, look at me."

You looked. Just as expected, you melted. Despite his puffy cheeks and bloodshot eyes, despite the fact a faint bruise was forming on his neck, you couldn't help yourself but be drawn into him.

Chan leaned in slowly, his lips ghosting over your own. You held onto his wrists as his hands held your face, softly.

"Let me show you how much I love you, pup." His voice low. The smell of alcohol and cheap perfume hitting your nostrils, making your stomach churn. You whimpered weakly, stray tears falling down your cheeks.

"N-No." you replied weakly. Your body betrayed you as your skin felt hot beneath Chan's fingertips.

"No?" Chan questioned. "You don't want this?"

You swallowed, closing your eyes slowly. You didn't want him, but now, you do. The constant smell of the cheap perfume made you jealous. How dare she touch what belongs to you! How dare she make a mark on his delicate skin! How dare she!

A wave of new emotions washed over you. Jealousy and possessiveness. Two dangerous emotions to feel at the same time. You know you shouldn't, he did you wrong on so many levels, but you couldn't help it. You wanted to erase the stench, erase the marks and make new ones. He's yours and yours only!

Love is blind.

"I-I do.. I want you Chan." You whispered. Chan pressed his lips against yours, kissing you desperately. You responded back, mimicking his movements. The taste of alcohol and cherry lip balm made you feel nauseous all over again. Your emotions heightened. You're not thinking straight and for the first time, you didn't want to think or feel.

"C-Channie." You softly moaned. During the kiss, you made your way to the bedroom, lips staying attached to one another. Clothing stripped and discarded in random piles. Chan placed you on your back gently, caressing your curves by planting soft and delicate kisses.

Your thighs, hips, stomach, breasts – anywhere where Chan could reach, he kissed. soft compliments in the form of mumbles left his lips, hoping it would prove to you and somewhat make you feel better

But it didn't. It just hurts you even more. His statements of you being so beautiful and perfect to him stung more and more. You bit your lip, tears threatening to spill over as you watched Chan tenderly kissing your stomach and hip dips.

You let out a sob, your tears falling and landing on the sheets below you. Chan looked up, instantly bringing his face close to yours. He kissed away your tears softly, stroking your hair

"Don't cry, my love." His own voice breaking at the sight of you. He's hurt you in the worst way possible – now he has to live with the guilt.

"It'll all be okay in the end, I promise you." You nodded slowly, snuffling. "Let me help you forget."

His lips pecking yours in the most subtle but softest way possible. You whimpered as he slowly made his way down, kissing your neck and the valley between your breasts. He kissed your left breast softly, sucking your delicate skin. You hummed at the feeling, fresh bruises developing.

The tip of his tongue circling around your nipple making you whimper. He pressed his tongue flat against your sensitive bud, licking and flicking. You moaned softly, eyes closing at the feeling. You pressed your thighs together, squeezing them.

With his free hand, Chan cupped your right breast, massaging it softly in his big hands. His fingers occasionally brushing against your nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

"Fuck, You're so beautiful, (Y/N)" Chan mummered against your nipple. You swallowed softly, humming as a response before closing your eyes.

Pulling away from your breast, Chan shuffled further down, opening your legs gently to reveal your wet core. Chan licked his lips slowly, his gaze fixated on your cunt. He swallowed, watching it clench and throb.

"Fuckkk" He groaned. Using two of his fingers, he parted your lips giving himself a better view of your entrance. His head dipped low. His tongue darting out and making contact with your clit. Your body jolted at the sudden contact, soft groans leaving your lips. His tongue skillfully draws small circles around your clit before giving it short and quick flicks with the tip of his tongue.

You opened your legs wider as Chan slowly licked your entrance, tongue darting in and out, collecting your essence on his tongue. He hummed at the taste, licking a long wet strip from entrance to clit and back down again.

You tangled your fingers into his hair, soft moans leaving your lips as you closed your eyes. Chan gripped your thighs gently, squeezing your soft flesh as he licked inside, out and around your cunt. You felt your pussy pulsating, pleasure running through your veins as you allowed yourself to get lost in it.

You tugged Chan's hair softly, moaning his name. Your hips bucked and rutted against his face. His nose bumping and rubbing against your clit, sending shivers to run down your spine. Chans tongue continued to do work inside your entrance, collecting every spillage and every drop of your essence.

You pressed Chan's face against your pussy, grinding and rutting against it desperately, using it for your own sake. Chan hummed, allowing you to do as you please.

"Good, so good." You whimpered, soft pants leaving your lips. Your essence coating Chan's lips and chin, his own hips rutting against the bedsheets, desperate for some sort of friction. Saliva and slick coated your cunt making it glisten in the faint light

Chan slowly loses himself in your scent and taste, slowly feeling feral. His hips rutting against the sheets desperately. Your toes curled as you tugged Chan's hair roughly at his scalp, a grunt leaving his lips.

The knot in the pit of your stomach slowly forming. Your hips moving at a pace, desperately chasing your high. The warmth and wetness of Chan's tongue and saliva mixed in with your slick, his owns hums mixing in with your desperate moans

"C-Chan.." A simple hum vibrated against your cunt sending shivers down your spine. You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping Chan's hair even tighter as your toes curled.

Your body shook as your orgasm hit you. Soft whimpers leaving your lips as Chan collects every drop of essence onto his tongue. Your pussy convulsing against Chan's face, his nose rubbing your sensitive clit as your rutting slowed down. Chan gave your clit a flick, making you jolt at the sensitivity.

Chan pulled away, kneeling up and between your legs. His cheeks flush as slick coated his chin and lips. You whimpered softly at the sight, body feeling hot and sweaty as your heart was racing against your ribcage

"You taste so good, pup. Did it feel good riding on my face?" Chan smirked as you nodded slowly

"It felt so good channie." Chan hummed softly, stroking his hard cock, the pad of his thumb occasionally pressing against his leaking tip as he would rub slow circles on it. You watched Chan get himself off, his head kicked back as he'd groan and moan your name softly.

Your eyes traveled along his sweat coated body. His abs tensing at the pleasure his own hand was providing. His eyes closed shut as his mouth hung open slightly. His biceps visible contacting, his veins protruding along his hand and arms.

The sight was enough to make you cum again

Until your eyes landed on that stupid bruise that lay proudly on his neck. you clenched your jaw as you stared at it. Everything you felt previous, came flooding back.You wanted to claw at the bitch who dared lay her fingers on your man – on your property. You didn't even know her, yet you hated her

Chan opened his eyes slowly. He looked at you, tilting his head to the side

"You okay, pup?" Your face softened. You smiled softly at Chan, pushing your anger to the side not wanting to ruin the moment

"Everything is good, Channie. You just looked so handsome and delicious." You mewled. Chan laughed softly, leaning over you as he placed his hands firmly beside your head.

"Is that so?" you hummed and nodded.

"Absolutely, Channie. You always look so handsome"

"Stop. It should be me who should be complimenting you." Chan hummed, kissing your lips softly. You hummed into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck gently to keep him close.

Chan reached between your bodies, grabbing the base of his cock. He tapped it a few times against your cunt, a whimper leaving your lips

"Are you okay with this, pup?"

"Of course I am, chan. Make love to me, please." Chan smiled against your lips, slowly inserting his cock into your entrance. You groaned at the feeling of being stretched out, a slight burn running all over your body.

Chan pushed himself inside until he was half way, waiting for you to get used to his size. You whimpered softly, holding onto Chan's shoulders.

"Big, you're so big Chan. I feel so full already." You whined. Chan shivered at your words, his ego inflating slightly

"Don't. I won't be able to hold back if you carry on, pup."

"But it's true. You feel so good inside me, Channie." You mewled, hand coming to his cheek and stroking it softly.

"P-Please, don't." Chan whimpered, leaning into your hand as he kissed the palm of it.

"Don't what? Tell you how full I feel? How stretched out I am because of your thick cock." Chan hung his head low, teeth biting his lower lip as he struggled between wanting to destroy your insides to wanting to delicately take care of you.

You leaned up, lips ghosting the shell of his ear as you licked it slowly before whispering

"Why don't you fuck me like you mean it, Sir."

Chan grunted, his hands gripping your hips harshly. Your head fell back onto the sheets as you smirked. Chan's eyes full of lust and need.

"You fucking tease." Chan growled, pulling his hips back before snapping them against your own, his cock hitting deep inside you. Your body jolted, a loud moan escaping your lips as you smirked.

"What can I say Chan. I like it when you go feral. It's delicious." Chan's response was to pull his hips back once more and pause, his tip remaining inside of you

"Oh really? I always knew you had such a filthy mouth and it never surprises me when you talk dirty." He pushed his length inside you so he was now balls deep

Fast and powerful thrusts shook your body. His cock rubbing your velvety walls as his tip hit deep inside you. The bed shook and hit against the wall from how powerful Chan's hips were snapping against your own

The sounds of your cunt squelching mixed in with your moans and Chan's desperate grunts. Chan knelt up, taking your legs in his hands for leverage. His hips constantly slapping against your own, balls hitting your ass.

He repositioned himself to hit your sweet spot and once he did, he smirked feeling proud of himself once your loud and sweet moan hit his ears, sending shivers down his spine and his cock to twitch inside you.

You withered and clinged onto the bed sheets until your knuckles turned white. Beads of sweat ran down your temples as incoherent words and moans left your lips. Chan's gaze fell down on the area in which connected the both of you, his cock coating in your slick each time he pulled out and pushed in.

"Fuckkk" Sweat coated Chan's body, his thrusts becoming greedy and desperate. He pushed his sweaty hair back with a free hand before looking down at you. He smirked, placing his hand on your lower stomach, feeling his cock bulging against his hand.

"I'm so deep inside you, pup. Holy fuck." You hummed, nodding your head as your ability to speak was no more.

You felt good – so good that you forgot. Forgot why you were angry, why you were hurting. You allowed yourself to be taken in by Chan, soaking in all of his warmth and pleasure he provided. Chan is your safe place, your home and for one second, you just wanted to pretend everything was okay

Even though it will never be the same again.

Chan's hips faltered, your cunt clenching around Chan's cock. His movements becoming sloppy, his abs and thighs tensing and burning.

"Chan, I'm-"

"Me too, pup." You whimper, reaching up to grab Chan. You pulled him down so he was leant over you. His hot skin radiating onto you from how close you both are, pants mixing together. You both closed your eyes, lips meeting together in a sloppy and lazy kiss.

You groaned, gripping onto Chan's shoulders tightly as your orgasm hit. Your nails digging into his skin as you pulled away from his lips. Your eyes came into contact with the mark, your feral instincts taking over.

As your cunt was pulsating and throbbing around Chan, you took the opportunity to sink your teeth into his neck, over the mark. A loud groan rang down your ears as you bit and sucked the skin, desperate to override the previous mark.

You whimpered against his skin, becoming more and more desperate to erase any marks on his body. Chan groaned at the pain, his eyes squeezing shut.

"B-baby, it hurts." Your eyes widened, pulling away slowly. You swallowed, teeth marks and a newly formed bruise that was deep purple formed on his skin

"Sorry.." You whispered, head falling back onto the pillows. Chan shook his head indicating it was okay, his hips still thrusting deep inside you

After a couple more thrusts, Chan groaned as his hips stopped. His cock twitched deep inside you, filling you up with his seed. You hummed at the feeling, your cunt clenching around him as it encouraged him to milk himself inside you. Chan thrusted shallowly to ride out his high and once he was calm, he pulled his now flaccid cock out of you and collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight.

"I love you so much, pup." Chan said as his eyes slowly closed. His head rested against your chest so he could hear your erratic heartbeat. You stroked his sweaty hair slowly, tears spilling down your cheeks as you stared into the void.

"I love you too."

The next morning, Chan awoke to a cold and empty bed. He stretched, groaning at the feeling as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the harsh morning light, reaching over to your side – only for his hand to come into contact with the cold sheets

His head spun to the side, eyes widening in horror. He sprung out of bed, throwing the sheets off him. Nausea and anxiety hitting him like a truck, not wanting his biggest fear to come true. He opened the wardrobe, the drawers, checked the cabinets and bathroom.

Gone. Everything you owned was gone. Chan took shaky deep breaths as he exited from the bathroom. A shaky hand running through his hair as he paced the bedroom.

"Fuck fuck fuck. This cannot be happening! I'm such an idiot. What have I done?!"

He sat on the bed, head in hands as tears fell down his cheeks, reality hitting him hard. He looked up to find a letter addressed to him leaning against a photo frame that held a dorky selfie of you both.

Chan grabbed the letter, opening it with shaky hands. Broken sobs and tears landed on the paper, the ink bleeding as he read it. Realization hitting him over and over again as he read the letter, more than once

You were gone and Chan only has himself to blame.

"Chan,

My sweet, darling chan. I love you, more than you will ever know which is why I have to do this.

You have taught me many things in the space of three months. I have never loved myself. I've always been hard on myself, forever comparing myself to other people and wondering why I am not like them. I hated my imperfections and my insecurities got the better of me at times. I was so use to faking it and hiding behind a mask, that it became second nature to me

Finding someone to love me for who I am, was hard. I've had many broken and failed relationships and before I met you, I essentially gave up. I accepted that this is who I forever will be

Broken.

Until you came along. When I saw you in the bar, looking so gorgeous, I went home that night and thanked God. When you approached me, I was so nervous and sweating because I didn't want you to see the real me because, like many others, it'd scare you away.

But you were quick to catch on. You knew I was being fake and even though you were smart, you never pressed me about it which I am thankful for. You allowed me to slowly come out off my shell, at my own pace. Yes, I was scared to show you the true me, but the more time I spent with you, the more I realise that, you love me for me

You didn't care about my imperfections, you adored them! You soothed me of my worries and insecurities. You taught me how to love myself again, how to accept and love my imperfections because nobody is perfect!

Because you loved my imperfections, I slowly started to love them too. You saw them as perfect and a part of who I am, so why shouldn't I? It did take some time, however, my mind was in a constant battle with itself over what is right and what is wrong.

But seeing you, so loved up for someone as broke as me, made me feel whole again. Made me feel like a person. You made me feel like I have meaning on this shitty planet. You taught me many things Chan, but the one thing I will forever be grateful of, is the fact that you taught me how to love myself again.

However, waking up next to you this morning and knowing what happened, sent my mind into overdrive. My insecurities came flooding back.

Stupid questions of 'How long did the kiss last?' 'Was it just a peck or a full blown make out session?' And then I saw the mark last night. She marked you Chan. She marked what belonged to me. I went feral with rage. I HAD to override the mark, reclaim what is mine! In that moment, I didn't recognise who I was and it scared me. I was so consumed with blaming her that it never occurred to me that you're just as much to blame for this as she is.

For all I know, she probably doesn't even know about me. You probably thought it was a bit of harmless fun so you went along with it, not expecting this outcome. This is the consequences for your actions Chan.

it's not fair on us, to have this hanging over our heads so, I decided to take a break. I need to get my head in the right place again. I'm staying at my mother's for a while, in case you were wondering.

One look at you and it all comes flooding back to me. It's not fair on either of us. I don't want to constantly hold this against you whilst we try and heal.

I can forgive you Chan, but I cannot forget, not at this moment of time anyways. Please don't hold this against you, my love. it's not your fault. They say things happen for a reason, so maybe this is a good thing for us. Maybe we will come back better and stronger as one.

Please take this time apart to heal. I want the best for you Channie because I will forever love you, no matter what happens. I want to see you thrive and become a better person, to learn from this.

I love you more than you will ever know, my love. You are my heart and soul. You have left tiny footprints on my heart. I simply cannot remove you from my life – I refuse to!!

– forever yours, pup. x"

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autisticandroids · 5 months

Note

15, 21, 23?

15. something you learned this year

i don't know if i can say i learned a new skill as such. but one thing is like... i really enjoyed making three card stud. and it really opened my eyes to like, how much of what i like about the practice of fanfiction is the meticulous remixing/reinterpretation of canon. there's a way in which the AMV is a more... analytical art form than the fanfic, because you are literally forced by the constraints of the medium to keep to the text. all you have are song lyrics and the kuleshov effect to convince your audience to take the new meaning you intend to convey from stuff already in the show. and i brought that ethos to three card stud even though i did add stuff. in a lot of ways three card stud was just me listing off things from canon i think a lot about and saying eh? eh? like. hoping the context would make it clear *why* this stuff makes me crazy. and i think that was a lot of the motivation behind the fic i'm currently working on, which is about dean and cas getting caught by the police. that fic at this point is mostly lists of things that have happened in spn episodes, placed in a new context by baffled feds and cops. which is the fun part. so like basically i learned that this is really fun, listing off canon facts in a new context

21. most memorable comment/review

so the most memorable traditional comment as such i got was probably this one, on i fold in half so easily (ifihse tends to generate the best comments because it's extremely dark without the ways in which it is dark being obviously flagged. so people are more shocked and more forced to think). "Cas: no officer i am very happy please dont tell dean im emotionally complex" is so funny and true that's literally what happens in that fic.

another top contender is this one, on getting serious, which generates good comments for the same reason ifihse does, though it's a lot less intense.

but in terms of my favorite *response to my work,* it was the breastfeeding anon saga (in chronological order here) which was a response to my fic smorgasbord.

and then i wrote a fic based on those anons, and then i got these very funny tags on my fic post:

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t

when i tell you about the 120k deanvictor fic which is literally 90k of victor henriksen hunting down a serial killer dean winchester while becoming a little (sexually) obsessed with him and then 30k of victor knowing about the supernatural and moonlighting as a hunter while he and dean suck each others dicks so much.

and also it's about victor's relationship with his two ex wives and his former stepdaughter who he is still emotionally a parent to even though they have no legal relationship and the coworker he had an emotional affair with who he doesn't speak to anymore and how he feels trapped in his life and his job and dean represents this escape for him this total freedom. just living in his car on the road and not having to worry about what your boss thinks or needing to quit smoking. while for dean victor represents this stability and adulthood dean can never achieve. and dean leaves three spare pairs of underwear in victor's divorcé bachelor pad as a kind of little... fantasy. of what life could be like.

anyway the most compelling scene from that, IN MY MIND, is a scene where victor STILL thinks dean is a serial killer. and now he has him in custody. and against his will he's... charmed. by dean. because dean is charming and pathetic, shaking and sweating from mild alcohol withdrawal but still cracking jokes and being friendly and observant and extremely young-feeling, for 28. and earnest in a way he didn't expect. and they're forced to work together against a demon siege, a spin on jus in bello where victor still doesn't find out about the supernatural he's just protecting himself and a prisoner from a threat. and he has the uncomfortable realization that he's attracted to dean winchester (serial killer) (guy he is trying to take down) (has killed so so many people). and he's like well. we can table that for later. and then dean escapes.

so i've been trying to figure out a way to scoop out just that scene and turn it into its own fic because that's actually manageable for me.

the dean and cas pursued by the cops idea also comes a bit from frustration that i can't write this, though the feds in that one are ocs bc it's later.

from here

#spn #asks #sketcheun

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presidenthades · 8 months

Text

I am doing very minor revisions of Daemon’s Handbook (mostly formatting and continuity errors), and I wanted to do some behind-the-scenes commentary before too much time passes and I forget my original thoughts. Here’s Chapter 11!

(Note that these commentaries aren’t canon to the verse until/unless the author writes them into the series. I might change my mind on a few points later, but these are the thoughts I had while writing.)

In my early outline, the big scandal in the last chapter was supposed to be Luce and Aemond getting caught in flagrante by somebody aligned to Otto (the servants’ passages scene in Chapter 9 didn’t happen in this version). I was writing it as a parallel to the Episode 4 brothel scene, so I was going to have it take place in the city somewhere, and there was going to be a lot of drama with Luce and Aemond being forcibly separated while Daemon searches for Luce. But the pacing was off and the necessary sequence of events was too contrived, so we got the version that currently exists in the fic.

I kept wondering if it was plausible Clement Celtigar to be stupid enough to unwittingly act as Otto’s lackey. I decided the answer is yes. I try not to character bash, but the Celtigars make it too easy. 😭 Seriously, read about them on the ASOIAF wiki (and look at Edwell and Bartimos’s pages).

I imagine that Otto pretended to be more familiar with Rhaenyra’s side of the family than he actually is, and he dropped some hints (without outright saying it, because like Daemon thinks in this chapter, young men want to believe they come up with their own ideas) that Luce favors Clement, and that she enjoys visiting the library late at night. Then Otto had the note forged in Aemond’s handwriting and left it for Luce. I’m sure this scheme was a lot smoother and sneakier than my bullet points can convey.

I picked the library as the setting so I could play with the trope in a lot of Aemond/OC fanfics (which I really enjoy! But I also enjoy flipping tropes) where Aemond and his love interest rendezvous in the library.

ASOIAF has names for hours of the day (eg hour of ghosts), but GRRM hasn’t revealed all the names. So I extrapolated names for all 24 hours of the day. “Hour of the cat” in the forged note is 11PM.

I spent a while debating how badly Luce injures Clement. I considered making it a lot more grievous (with a knife involved, as a redux of Driftmark), but that would have drastically darkened the story’s tone and changed the fallout from the event. So Clement gets away with a bit of testicular torsion, which Dr Google tells me *can* be serious if not quickly given medical treatment.

Bartimos comes close to calling Luce a whore. If he said it, Daemon would probably have given him the Episode 8 Vaemond treatment. Again, that would’ve been a very dark tonal shift, so Barty stays quiet.

Clement wants 8 sons and 2 daughters because a crab (his house sigil) has ten legs total, two of them being pincers. But Luce doesn’t care about the symbolism, and she ain’t having that many kids.

Normally Luce would have sneaked off alone to meet Aemond in the library. But she brings Rhaena because the argument with Daemon is still fresh, and she’s smarting from his (reasonably accurate) accusation that she doesn’t think enough with her upper brain. So in a strange way, Daemon’s diatribe benefited Luce because if she’d gone alone, there wouldn’t be any witnesses to defend her.

Daemon’s snooping around the girls’ letters is also proving to be surprisingly helpful several years later! If he hasn’t read Aemond’s letters to Luce, Daemon wouldn’t notice the handwriting discrepancy.

Daemon spends the entire fic paranoid about Hightower schemes, and he’s FINALLY right! He finally gets validation! 😂 But he also has zero evidence, literally just gut feelings and vibes.

Baela has been having a great time with Cregan Stark (who canonically has a thing for bisexual tomboys). The Northerners are staying around longer than most wedding guests because the distance is so far, so Baela has plenty of time to keep seducing him. By the time Cregan leaves, I imagine he’s going to make an offer to Baela, but she’s going to put him off for a while longer; she’ll *probably* accept him eventually, but she’s not sure Moondancer will like the cold.

After Daemon confronts Aemond, Aemond goes to the Tower of the Hand to confront Otto. I’m not sure what exactly they say to each other, but afterwards, Aemond tears his room apart looking for the present he planned to give Luce three years ago. I don’t know where he eventually finds it, but it’s probably a laughably obvious spot he totally overlooks at first.

Jace has already been setting up a gossip/whisper network in the Red Keep, so she’s able to hear first thing the next morning about the library incident.

I like Paddy Considine’s take that Viserys *does* have the “blood of the dragon,” he just forces himself to control his temper because he’s trying to be a good king. Also, when he’s a walking corpse in Episode 8, he has the wherewithal to draw his dagger and threaten to cut out Vaemond’s tongue. Viserys would 100% call for Clement to be gelded and gossipers to be silenced. So, for once, Viserys strongly approves of Daemon’s violent streak. 😇

I spent a while debating Clement’s punishment. He kissed Luce when she didn’t want it, which, for most girls, would unfortunately be swept under the rug since he’s the heir to a notable house. But things are different with the royal family. Luce doesn’t want an unnecessarily cruel punishment; she was friendly with Clement until recently, and in Chapter 7, she’s restraining Aemond from violence against Ulf. Even though she’s quick to defend herself by any means necessary, she’s by no means a sadist. She was also deeply affected when Aemond lost his eye (which she partially blames herself for), which leads to her resisting punishments that involve maiming.

Jace also advocates for less violence, but not because she’s a softie. She prefers the diplomatic route, which is harder if you’re trigger-happy to forcibly amputate your vassals. But she knows a monarch has to make hard decisions sometimes, and she’s willing to do what it takes. For example, if Clement had done worse than kiss Luce, Jace *would* want him to be gelded, and she’d have no qualms about it.

Helaena did not have a vision or prophecy about Aemond and the book. She just saw him panicking in his room and figured out what he was up to, because she’s his sister and she knows him. 😂 And because she knows him (and Luce) so well, she can deduce they’re probably going to patch things up, so she packs his bags for him.

No God’s Eye duel in this verse, but I couldn’t resist slipping in a reference about Luce jumping into Vhagar’s saddle 😭

ASOIAF book readers can probably deduce what Joff’s candle is. And that’s all I’m gonna say about it until we get Joff’s POV. 👀

Joff kisses Daeron’s cheek purely to distract Daemon from asking more questions about the candle. Daeron is now very confused. I like to imagine he runs off to Jace and Aegon’s room screaming “Aegon, Joff kissed me, what do I do????” But Jace and Aegon are newlyweds so Aegon isn’t going to appreciate Daeron’s interruption 😂😂😂

That’s it for the Handbook commentaries! Fingers crossed that I have an update this weekend about my next fic in this AU-verse. 🤞

#my writing #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #meta #hotd fic #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon’s handbook

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arielstruggles · 7 months

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EVER SINCE MY BABY WENT AWAY IT'S BEEN THE BLACKEST DAY

CHAPTER 2

Pairing: Javier P x reader

Summary: After spending quite an enjoyable night, things go sideways. Who knows what is gonna happen next :)

Word count: 2.5 k

Warnings: smut (+18), finger fucking, semi public sex, age gap (no mention of it tho), slight dirty talk, slight edging, third person pov idk what else to add honestly.

A/N: I don't know if anyone reads this tbh but if you are thank you so much for bearing with me. I'm pretty new to this whole fic writing thing so i don't consider my works as good but i'm trying to get better. This took a while to write and it is shorter than i wanted to write but at least i manage to finish it. Anyway hope you enjoy! here is the link of chapter one if anyone is interested.

She wakes up after a couple of hours later. Thinking about the current situation of their relationship. The emptiness of bed greets her, the bed is empty except for her. shame, guilt and anger cripples. But before moving to any conclusion, she decides to check the other rooms out, just in case he was in the kitchen or the living room. Deep down, she knows. She knows that he is just the same, left her and didn’t even say anything. Well, it was just a one night stand i guess, she thinks but can’t help with the suffocating pain. She checks the kitchen, the living room even the bathroom. He’s gone.

Even though it was years ago, they had a passionate relationship. Yet it was not the best relationship out there. It was flawed from the beginning. She checks out her phone, just in case he left any messages. None. How pathetic i am she mutters. How could i be so naive to return to this country after all these years and expected him to be better? Well, why did he come back when he heard that i’m here? It is still dark outside. Tears form at the corner of her eyes but she brushes them away, he does not even worth a single drop of tear. Her thoughts are exact opposite of the prior. Up until that night, she was seeing everything through the lens of love.

Her biggest mistake was that she sugarcoated their memories and assumed Javier was the best boyfriend out there. Yes, she made mistakes as well and the break up was mutual but the reason why they broken up was how much of an asshole Javier was. They had great memories together but problems were overpowering. She missed him so much that created a fucking different persona in her head. When it is in the past, even the most anguishing pain seems as if it was impeccable. She always remembered the times they were laughing, kissing, tangled in bedsheets. But their two years of on and off relationship was more than that. The tears, shoutings…Javier was a caring and loving partner when he wanted to be one. But he was not the best in long term relationships, he was committed yes but it took a while to reach a point for them to build that. Now he was gone, again. The pain is unbearable.

She feels like someone is ripping her heart apart. She laughs for a second, it feels weird, after ten years, he broke my heart in our first encounter, she thinks. She gets back to her bed and lays down; it is around 5 in the morning. She thought that they’d be spending the weekend together or maybe even get back together. But he does not even wait till the morning. He leaves the second she falls asleep. Tears roll down on her cheeks, she can’t help it and she drifts off.

He is in his hotel room, thinking about what has happened. He missed her so much but they had different expectations from their lives and he was not ready to go through all that shit that they once had. He tries to justify what he just done, left her once again. When they first met, he never wanted to be in a serious relationship and he made that clear. It was not his fault. Was it? He was happy with his relationship with women. He had informants which most of them were hookers that helped him to get information about cartel and give him a good half an hour. He was so used to have one-night stands that he instantly rejected her love. She had the biggest crush on him, it was impossible to resist his charm. They knew their expectations were different, they were different but they somehow worked things out, till they can’t.

She wakes up after her semi successful sleep attempt. A part of her wants to cry her eyes out but she decides to not to do that. He does not even worth it, she thinks. Lazily heads to the bathroom and washes her face and brushes her teeth then walks to her kitchen and starts the coffee machine to make her morning coffee. “You taste like heaven” his voices echoes, she almost drops the mug in her hand. The way he kisses her. “damn it” she mutters, “get it together girl, he left you again.” She pours the coffee on her mug and sits on the kitchen stool, slowly sipping her coffee. She feels the ghost of his hands roaming around her body. “I’m sick. I must be.”

Days pass, she does not hear a word from Javier after that night. Sadness leaves its place to a boiling anger. She wants to see him again, but not because she misses her or wants him to fuck her, no. She wants to yell, scream at him. A strong slap across his face would soothe her furry. Though she is in denial, her madness comes from love, it is her love buried inside all that anger. She tried her hardest to not to blame him for their break up ten years ago but with the reoccurring incident -well technically they never talked about their future so he didn’t leave him but still- she starts blaming him. If he was considerate enough, he would call her, if he really missed her, he would find a way. But on the other hand, maybe he wanted her to live a better life, he maybe thought she’d be better without him. She shakes her head, if he was so thoughtful of a man, he would wait till morning to talk, he wouldn’t run out the moment she falls asleep. Her thoughts doesn’t give him a single second of peace. She finds a way to justify him but then finds something else to blame him, it is like a never ending cycle

He is not sure what to do at that point. He wants to talk to her to tell her that it was a good night that they had, in memory of their past. But that was it, he is not sure if they can have a relationship after ten years. He is not sure that if he wants to be in a serious relationship, again. It is tiring, to have someone that you have to care for. To think your actions carefully to not to hurt the person. To have someone that cares and loves you. Even though the idea seems thrilling at first, it is not good when you think on a deeper level. He decides to pop in at her apartment and have a conversation about their situation because he will have to leave soon. He just came to see her when he heard that she was back in Colombia which he regrets now. He gets ready to leave his hotel room and strolls around the streets before finding the courage to knock on her door. It is pretty late but he knows that she does not sleep around this time. After contemplating for a solid ten minutes, he knocks the door.

She reads a book, finally getting over what happened four days ago. Not thinking about him, how their tongue danced against each other’s, how he grabbed her by the waist and yanked to the wall, how toxicating his smell was. Nope she does not think about it at all. She hears a knock and opens the door and he is standing right across her. “You must be joking!” she scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Sweetheart, please I came to talk.” “Do not sweetheart to me, you are nobody! You hear me?! We have nothing to talk. It is done, it was done ten years ago but I was foolish enough to believe that we could work things out!” she does not yell but her words are sharp as a blade. Anger mixed with sadness pours from her tongue like poison. “Be calm for a second for god’s sake! I don’t want to end this bad!” he replies sternly. “I don’t want to end this bad” is all she can hear. He came here to end, he does not want to make things work, she thinks. She wants to cry, sob even. They stand on the doorway for a while, she does not invite him in. Then, instead of letting sadness taking control of her, she pushes him from the doorway. “Get the fuck away from my house. You are not welcomed here. And just because you feel guilty due to your mistakes, I won’t forgive you! you fucked up this relationship.” Surprised with her sudden push, he feels anger boiling insides his veins. “My mistakes? Are you serious? Look it is obvious that you are not ready to have an adult conversation. I should have guessed it that you would put all the blame on me. Once your thick head realizes that we both fucked up, we can have a proper talk.” She wants to push his buttons, make him furious. All those feelings accumulated in her makes her bold. “You don’t even know how to talk. You are scared shitless of feeling some emotions that the moment you feel something you run away. that’s why you could never manage to have a proper relationship. You just fool yourself into saying that you need a quick fuck with whores, but in reality, you are just a scared kid trapped into a 43 years old man’s body.” She knows, she stepped a boundary. She knows she hit a nerve, it was her intention from the beginning but when she catches the fury in his eyes, she takes a step back, her hand is on the door handle waiting for the close the door if he tries to do something. But in all honesty, she wants him to do something. “don’t try to play that card again, I never wanted to have a relationship. Remember the nights you came to me crying, begging for my love.” They don’t hold anything back. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, I didn’t force you to anything! You fucking needed me. You needed my love. You hear. All that façade, it is nothing but a lie Javi. You are so vulnerable to even confess it. The idea of someone leaving you is eating you alive.”

He grabs her by the neck and yanks her to the door. It does not hurt, on the contrary is turns her on. She slightly grins. “This was all you wanted, from the beginning. Isn’t is, you filthy whore?” “You need me to fuck that hole of yours, hm?” his tone makes her dizzy. “Yes.” He slightly tightens his grip which makes her squirm. She squeezes her legs shut to help herself a little. Javier catches her sneaky action. A chuckle escapes from his pretty lips. “You’re such a thirsty girl. You want me so bad; you need me. Is it true?” she nods, she is more than eager. At that moment she decides to throw her pride out of the window. He kisses him deeply. It is wet, filthy, noisy. She breaks the kiss. “Javi, please let’s get inside. We are literally in the building hall. Somebody can see us; I live in here!” she hisses. He grins, it’s almost a devilish one. “No, sweetheart. Where is the fun in that? We will do one round in here and maybe you can be a good girl; we can move the fun into your bed, or we can continue in this hallway of yours.” He fakes a pout, while words dripping from his lips like honey. His grip on her neck loosens, he slides down his hand in her panties while licking her neck. She tries to contain her moans by biting her lips, grips him by his broad shoulders tightly to not to fall. She feels his finger playing with her clit. She wants so scream his name. He pumps his fingers inside of her hole. She moans loudly. “can’t hold it, sorry.” She murmurs. He chuckles staring her eyes. Her cheeks are slightly flushed. “Don’t be baby girl. It is music to my ears. But your neighbors might not like it as much as I do.” If somebody would see them in that situation, it would be embarrassing to say the least. She always tried her best to look like a good, respectful neighbor. But getting finger fucked by her ex in the hallway is not exactly a respectful thing. His fingers inside her giving the best of pleasures while she watches his face closely. He looks so pretty, flawless even.

They get lost in each other’s eyes until she grabs him from his hair and pulls him to herself and kisses. While she kisses him, he adds a third finger. She moans with the feeling, it is not uncomfortable, just unexpected. “Javi, I’m close.” “Hold on baby for a while. You can do it, I know it baby girl.” He fastens his fingers while cooing her the sweetest words. “No, honey, I can’t please.” “You are such a pretty girl; you are doing so good my love. Hold it a little longer, I know you can do it.” She wants to come; she needs to come but his praises are better than anything in this world that she does anything in her power to hold it a little longer. “Look at you, such a perfect whore for me. aren’t you my pretty whore? So wet and welcoming for me.” she moans again, at this point she knows for sure that somebody heard them. His fingers hit the perfect spot. He is lost in the moment. Her warm, wet cunt is all he asks for. “Javi, please.” tears run down on her cheeks. “shh, don’t cry baby. You know we have a long way to go.” He murmurs. “tell me, who do you belong to my love?” he asks. “what the fuck Javi? I’m not a damn object. I don’t belong to anyone.” “hmm, is that so?” he answers and saves his fingers out of her. She whines. “what happened? Any changes in your thoughts?” He chuckles. She rolls her eyes “you’re so stupid.” She chuckles as well. “You. I belong to you.” “mhmm thought so.” He doesn’t lose a second and sticks his fingers inside of her again, pumping them in and out. His thumb toys with her clit. She kisses his neck, bites here and there which sends a shiver down on his spine. His cock is getting harder with each sound she makes. “I want to cum, please.” She whines. This time he lets her. “Okay baby. You’ve been such a good girl, took my fingers really well. You can cum.” She comes on his fingers. He cleans her cum by licking his fingers. They hear someone from the upper floors opens their door “Is anyone in there?” the neighbor calls out. They can barely hold their giggles. The neighbor gets back inside their home and close the door shut. She whispers “Can’t believe you fucked me in the hallway.” “don’t worry baby, we’ll continue this inside.” He kisses her and she wraps her arms around his neck. He drags her inside and closes the door shut by his feet.

#javier pena x reader #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #javier pena smut #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #narcos #smut #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #fanfic

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theserpentsadvocate · 3 months

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So I’ve been doing a lot of research (or, more accurately, I’ve been doing cursory research fairly often) for the seventy-million Veronica Mars fanfics I’m currently writing, and I’ve run into a… difficulty. The fic that actually prompted this post wasn’t even related to the Thumper thing even peripherally, like it doesn’t even happen in it, but what can you do.

Here’s the thing: under California law, assault is the attempt to hurt or cause harm to someone by an individual with the capacity to actually cause that harm (e.g. throwing a rock at someone and missing, trying to punch someone who dodges). Actually harming someone is battery (e.g. you knock someone out and hide their drug money inside their motorcycle).

Now we, the audience, know that whatever someone might feel morally*, Weevil isn’t legally guilty of murder – he committed battery, and that’s probably all Lamb can prove, because he has witnesses to that part. But he has witnesses. He should have Weevil over a barrel on the battery charge at least.

But here’s the sticking point (or one of them): Veronica says, canonically, that Weevil ‘pled down to assault’ (and he seems to agree with her). So… why did he end up doing time for a lesser charge?

Answer One: The writers messed up.

Okay, so this is a very unsatisfying answer, and I’m rolling my eyes at myself about it. But still: it’s very common for the general public to gloss ‘assault and battery’ as one thing, or to use ‘assault’ to refer to battery charges, doubly so since, in a non-legal sense, the word ‘assault’ does include (legal) battery. Probably whoever wrote that line assumed that they knew what ‘assault’ was and just didn’t double-check.

(And they also didn’t bother to brush up on the difference between a felony and a misdemeanour and whether you can be on parole for a misdemeanour (answer: no), but I’ll get to that.)

But that doesn’t help square everything up with canon (unless you’re the kind of person who can say stuff like ‘that line doesn’t make sense so I’m ignoring it’, which I… am not, generally speaking), so more productively –

Answer Two: Veronica messed up

Veronica’s attitude toward Weevil isn’t always great in season three, trending towards dismissive on several occasions, and she is, technically, a member of the general public, so maybe she just said assault and meant battery, and he did go to prison for battery and not assault. This would track with him still being on parole – well, at all, but notably about halfway through season three, when Veronica wants to meet with the PCHers – and mentioning his parole officer multiple times. (Simple assault is a misdemeanour and has a maximum sentence of six months; parole, unless there is a glaring hole in my Googling, is only for felonies. Nothing he does to Thumper, as far as I can tell, would qualify as felony assault – he doesn’t use caustic chemicals or a deadly weapon, and he definitely doesn’t throw anything at a moving vehicle.)

Misdemeanour battery, on the other hand, appears to have a maximum sentence of a year, and a battery charge would leave the possibility of a felony open: aggravated battery, or battery causing serious bodily harm, is a ‘wobbler’, which means it can be filed as a misdemeanour or a felony, depending on the circumstances, and ‘serious bodily harm’ includes loss of consciousness. (This would also mean he very well could be a convicted felon, which of course has implications for the rest of his life beyond just having a record. I don’t actually want this for him, obviously, but if you want the felony for fic reasons, or to explain the repeated parole references, that versatility is there.)

The only problem is, Veronica is not a very likely person to make this particular mistake. Her dad spent most of her life in law enforcement and she’s very well-acquainted with most law enforcement (and much legal) procedure, she regularly interacts with the sheriff’s department, and she commits enough illegal and dubiously legal acts herself that it’s in her best interest to be familiar with these kinds of distinctions. (Although she’s still very much protected by being a middle-class white woman – she can do things like tasing obnoxious frat bros in The Rapes of Graff without worrying overmuch that she’ll be arrested on misdemeanour battery charges, even though it would absolutely qualify.) Also, she clearly made the effort to look into how his case played out, since she’s the one who brings all this up, and she appears to have tracked him down at the car wash deliberately, so it would be kind of bizarre if she then got the offence wrong. This one is convenient, but in the end it’s a hard sell and I don’t think I buy it.

Answer Three: Weevil didn’t plead down from murder to assault, he pled down from battery to assault.

Lamb’s case for murder probably isn’t all that great. It makes for terrific oomph when you are deliberately arresting someone two minutes before he’s supposed to graduate, like an absolute monster, but what does he have, really? Two kids who saw Weevil knock Thumper out with… a cloth? Or something? and take a bag of… something. (And leave.)

So this proves battery, it strongly implies robbery, and given Thumper showing up under the ruins of Shark Stadium it certainly suggests murder, but that’s not going to stand up in court. Assuming the autopsy can conclusively determine which ones are from the stadium collapse and which aren’t (admittedly a big if), Thumper’s likely to have injuries from the beating the Fitzpatricks gave him that Weevil is (per the prosecution’s own witnesses) not responsible for and which were incurred after his attack on Thumper. The kids also saw him leave Thumper’s unconscious body and walk away with the bag of money, so – dead to rights on battery, but iffy on murder. The other PCHers can testify that he had motive to kill Thumper, but they might well not be willing to, for a whole host of reasons. Weevil is absolutely smart enough to establish himself an alibi for the entirety of the time after his attack on Thumper, and that would make Lamb’s case very difficult, as does that fact that Weevil literally didn’t kill Thumper, and so there’s very little forensic evidence to be found that would be damaging to him.

(Honestly, even if the charge was murder, and he pled down to assault or to battery, the fact that they offered him that also suggests the case was flimsy. Rich, white, even-more-innocent-of-the-actual-murder Logan only got offered manslaughter in the plea deal for Felix’s murder.)

So if this is it? That is a ton of reasonable doubt. And that’s before Cliff gets up there and points out that Eduardo Orozco was a known gang member and drug dealer and had all kinds of opportunities to make the kind of enemies who might have chained him up in that stadium (which is not only true but also… basically what did actually happen). In fact, typing this all up, I’m kind of pissed Weevil did any time at all.

Add to that the fact that both eyewitnesses are kids, who are notoriously unreliable on the stand… Yeah, I can easily see the DA deciding a murder charge won’t stick. But they have him on battery! …Wiiiith most of the proof being those notoriously unreliable child witnesses. So maybe they drop the murder charges, get him on battery, and then offer him a deal. On their side, they don’t have to worry about those kids holding up in court; on his side, well, if they threatened to file the aggravated battery charge as a felony, he’s looking at the difference between a year at most in prison and a possible four-year term with all the attendant miseries of being a convicted felon for the rest of his life. And he definitely can’t afford a better lawyer than whoever’s available from the public defender’s office. So it’s reasonable to decide that going to court is too much of a gamble, and just take the deal. This also explains how he’s out so quickly, since it cannot be more than three months since he was arrested when season three starts – but if he pled right away and got a light sentence (since it’s his first adult conviction), that might make sense.

The main problem with this one, even though I really like it, is that, well, there are the repeated references to him being on parole. Weevil himself could just be glossing probation as parole, I suppose – ‘don’t tell my parole officer’ makes a better joke than ‘don’t tell my probation officer’ – but Veronica also says he’s on parole in President Evil, which is an unlikely mistake for her to make if he’s not on parole, for all the reasons outlined in Answer Two, especially in what is literally a presentation for her criminology class. (Of course, in that same presentation she refers to him ‘assaulting’ Thumper, so who knows.) Most damning is the entire B-plot of Wichita Linebacker, which makes it clear he is indeed on parole, since if he doesn’t get another job he’ll go back to prison.

(And I suppose ‘pled down to assault’ is kind of a weird way for Veronica to phrase it in this case – but not utterly bizarre, and she’d be unlikely to spell it all out like that, since she doesn’t know she’s on TV and that line is supposed to be letting the audience know why he’s not in prison.)

Answer Four: Veronica was just guessing

I’ve always read the scene in Wichita Linebacker as her finding him on purpose, especially since she doesn’t actually stick around to get her car washed, which is why I also tend to assume that she’s either recently looked up his case or been following it from the beginning and would know what the charge is. (She doesn’t appear to be surprised to see him, either.) I also just… like to think that she’d care enough to follow up on him.

But it’s also possible that she really is just at the carwash for carwash-related reasons, and she’s just… guessing about the reasons he’s out already. In this case, she might have said assault, and he acknowledges this as correct even though the actual charge was battery, because he figures it’s close enough, and she’s got the general idea, anyway.

This covers more bases than anything else, although it still doesn’t explain why she implies he’s on parole for an assault charge during the criminology presentation, at which point she would definitely have done the background to know it was battery and not assault, but mostly I don’t love it for character reasons.

Anyway. If anyone wants to hit their heads repeatedly into this particular wall with me, I would love to hear your thoughts.

*and I’m inclined, personally, to say that the moral responsibility for Thumper’s death is pretty much on the Fitzpatricks, and it’s not like he didn’t know who he was getting into business with

#veronica mars #eli navarro #weevil navarro #non-tolkien meta #my own work

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