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astraystayyh · 3 months

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please fall before i fall

jeongin x reader. best friends to lovers. they think it's unrequited love so a bit of angst. but they're just idiots. happy ending :))

summary : 3 times you saved jeongin's ass and the 1 time he saved yours (and ended up confessing along the way). holidays themed.

winter falls masterlist.

a.n. : i am very happy to finally post my first fic for the winter falls collab with my author xi hehehehhe i hope you'll enjoy this one <333 it's very light and fluffy she's the cute one!! oh and my song rec is i bet on losing dogs by mitski

One.

Jeongin’s thumb hovers over your contact name, his rosy lip pulled tightly between his teeth. He hesitates for a few seconds before finally dialing your number.

“What do you want?” you start which makes an incredulous snort escape his lips, a gust of powdery air materializing before his mouth from the cold.

“How much do I have to pay you for you to come over?”

“Ten thousand dollars. Cash,” you precise as he mouths along to what you say, already guessing what your next words would be.

He's come to know you at an abhorrent speed these past few months; since you sat right next to him in your biology class, head buried in an oversized navy hoodie. Your perfume knocked into him like a gentle breeze— Sicilian lemon and white bouquet notes, nostalgic summer amid an unforgiven autumn. Memories of sticky fingers from molten ice cream and feet soles meeting the warm sand wafted in the air, alluring him to the kindness of a long-gone summer, you.

That is why he talked to you at first, because you smelled nice, incredibly so. He tells you it's because he liked the pair of shoes you were wearing.

“What if I brought you your favorite coffee?”

“Are you outside my dorm?” you squeal and he imagines you must be scrambling to get up, opening the curtains. He knows he's right as your figure materializes behind the window. “Hi,” you wave, a small giggle escaping your lips. He can't help the fond smile that draws upon his lips.

He thinks he likes you a little.

“Hey, please help me wrap my family’s gifts,” he pouts, waving the coffee in the air. Your order that he memorized by heart, not even meaning to, it was just natural for him to order you coffee every day, to remember your preferences as if they were his own.

“Why are you here if we're going to your dorm anyways?” you laugh, leaning against the window.

“Because I know I need to bribe you,” he sighs, angling his head to the side. “Are you not going to hang up and come downstairs? The coffee will grow cold.”

“I’m coming!”

An hour later, four gifts are resting beside Jeongin's figure, perfectly wrapped thanks to your skilled hands. He's lying on the warmed tiles, and you're right beside him, so close your knee brushes against his thigh now and then.

He is keeping count, well, more so his heart, constricting in his lungs each time you touch.

He's so aware of you, so much he's sure you’ve crawled into his skin, morphing him into nothing but a shell of you.

Perhaps he likes you a lot.

“You're an insane man. Who leaves gift wrapping to the last minute?”

“You're best friends with said insane man.”

“Remind me how did that happen again?” you ask, propping your head on your elbow, and turning to the side to look at him. Jeongin has to pretend that the sight of you hovering over him doesn't affect him. That his eyes aren't drawn to your lips, heart dissolving at your feet, hoping to brush against your own.

Please fall before I fall, he nearly pleads.

“Why are you so close,” he feigns disgust, pushing your face away with his pointer finger.

“What? Does that fluster you?” you question, amused, bringing your face even closer to his. He scrambles away before a blush sprouts on his face, one he wouldn't be able to justify to your scrutinizing gaze.

“As if. You're ugly,” his eyes squint, lips thinning into that particular smile he knows annoys you. He moves to the side swiftly, anticipating the shoe you throw at him.

“You're literally— remind me to never help you again, asshole.”

“I'm kidding. Thank you for today, seriously. I didn't know wrapping gifts could be this hard.” He falls back to the floor dramatically, banging his head against the tiles in the process.

“Well deserved,” you whisper.

“I heard that.”

“Good,” you giggle, before gently massaging the spot where he has bumped his head. He purses his lips against one another, afraid of what words might escape the confines of his throat, vocal cords moving to the gentle rhythm of your touch.

“Will you keep on being this clumsy, Innie? mm?” you muse, tone quieter.

The nickname makes his insides churn, it is always so tender when it falls from your lips. No one has ever called him this softly before. No one has ever called his heart before you.

He shouldn't be this clumsy with it. It is a fragile organ, akin to glass, easily breakable, so translucent— it'd be easy for anyone to peer inside and find you in it.

“Yeah, I probably will.”

He'll stop liking you next year. He hopes. He'll try.

Two.

Next year has come, familiar frigid winds pulling you to Jeongin’s heart, perhaps even more so than before, cementing your being into the nooks and crannies of his soul, perfectly so, as if it was destined for you alone to fill the emptiness inside him.

Seasons have changed and yet summer remains, its essence stored safely within the notes of your perfume, it tickles his nose as you're seated on the countertop, legs swinging lazily while he scouts through his fridge.

“Remind me why we're doing this again?”

“Because I made a bet with Yoon.”

“Your sixteen years old brother?”

“Yes.”

“You are in college.”

“I know.”

“Why are you taking it to heart?”

“Because I have my pride,” he says solemnly, hand on his heart and you roll your eyes.

“You literally begged at my feet fifteen minutes ago to help you.”

A year later, Jeongin stood beneath your window once again, phone brought up to his ear, hand hidden behind his back. You pick up on the first ring.

“Look out the window,” he quickly says before you can even speak.

“Hello, Y/n, how are you, Y/n, are you surviving with the cold—” you say sarcastically as you pull the curtains, the words dissolving in your tongue as he brings a single flower before him— you recognize its pink petals easily, Camellia, the rose of winter.

“I did not have time for coffee, but I plucked this off the sidewalk,” he offers, an amused grin on his face. “Help me bake cookies, pretty please, I'll be forever indebted to you. Forever and ever and ever and ever—”

“This is such a poor rendition of Romeo and Juliet, I'm afraid Shakespeare is suffering in his grave right now.”

“Do you think he knows of every theater play that was done to his story?” Jeongin muses.

“That's a good question actually. I hope he didn't see mine,” you shudder before your face pales.

“You did not tell me you ever did that!”

“I'll bake your cookies and you'll never bring this up again.”

“Deal. My Juliet,” he smirks and you throw a middle finger aggressively to his face before hanging up. He shouldn't find it as endearing as he does.

“Because, my dear Y/n, this is my holiday reputation at stake. I kind of raised the bar last year with my gift wrapping.”

“You did?” you raise an eyebrow promptly at his words and he sighs, taking out the butter before leaning against the fridge.

“We did. Which is exactly why I need your help again. Imagine how embarrassing it would be if Yoon wins,” he shudders and a giggle finally escapes your lips.

The kitchen warms up at the sight of your smile.

“It's cute when you need me once in a while,” you say nonchalantly, hopping off the counter and moving to wash your hands. Jeongin freezes in his place.

“I always need you though,” he confesses quickly, swallowing the words, hoping that this way you wouldn't be able to taste the sincerity coating them, sticky honey dripping from his tongue whenever it speaks of you.

“Good thing you'll always have me then,” you beam, your words hanging into the air, oxygen suddenly harder to inhale.

“Gross,” he fakes a shiver, as his heart drops in his chest, breaks, and twists at the weight your words carry.

He'll always have you, but not in the way he wants to, your eyes would never soften at the mere mention of his name, and you won't think that a season blooms into every room he is in. He has you, but just a fragment of you, not how you have him, as a whole, heart, body, and soul.

He's already fallen, a terrible, terrible fall.

“Will you help me or just stare off into the distance?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. He smiles bashfully, rolling his sleeves and sidling by your side to mix in the eggs, one by one, per your instructions.

It smells nice in the kitchen, the caramelized fragrance of browned butter, sweetened by the sugar dissolving into the warm liquid. Tentative sunlight streams through the window, and it falls perfectly on Jeongin's face, highlighting his sharp features.

Not that jeongin needs any additional light, he reminds you of spring, a flower blooming on his face each time he smiles, his dimples two youthful fountains the roots strive from, brightening his face even more.

He tentatively glances at you as he adds the chocolate chips to the mix, only to find you staring forward. He misses the fond look on your face by a few seconds, the tinting of your features with soft hues of pink, of spring, of him. He always misses it, always misses you.

Three.

"I can't believe you have 37 pairs of shoes but not one nice shirt.”

“It's 36, please count correctly,” Jeongin retaliates and you snort, flopping around in bed till you land on your stomach, chin propped up by your hand. Jeongin is still rummaging through his closet, head almost disappearing into the dark void of his wardrobe.

“What do you need this for anyway?” you question, as you scroll through your phone mindlessly. Jeongin’s eerie silence causes you to look up.

“Um. I have a date tonight.”

“Oh.”

His words hang over the room like a heavy cloak soaked with rain, the oxygen sucked out of your lungs and ensnared within that singular gasp.

Jeongin swiftly turns around, before kneeling beside the bed, eyes brimming with a hopeless search— you are too focused on steadying your breathing to notice.

“Should I go?”

“I mean… Why are you asking me?”

“If you don't want me to, I won't,” he speaks in an overflowing sincerity, as though he'd willingly surrender the reins of his life for you to guide, should you only dare to ask.

A breath, a pause, and he adds, “In case you'll be lonely tonight.” Your hope deflates in an instant, akin to a birthday balloon tossed into the careless hands of children.

Pity, that's what he feels for someone who hasn't had a date in a year while he went on ones regularly. Although they never transcended beyond that first meeting, always a first date, never a second. He says none of the people he meets are his type.

“I have a date too.” It was the truth, Suhoo had told you to meet him at the ice rink. You said you'd think about it. You knew deep down that your answer would be no, solely because he isn't Jeongin.

Perhaps it is too late for him to fall for you.

“Really?”

“Yeah, with Suhoo, you know, the guy in our Economics class.”

“He's nice.”

“Mm.”

Could you lose something you never had in the first place?

“You should wear Seungmin’s white shirt.”

“Yeah. That's what I thought too.”

“And bring them flowers. The rose of winter, maybe.”

You had preserved the plucked flower he gave you in a vase. The pink of the petals liquefying and bleeding into the blush on Jeongin’s cheeks once he noticed.

“That one's just for you.”

Four.

You're alone on the ice rink, the frigid winds assail your form, fingers numb from winter's cruel grasp. Suhoo didn't come after all, perhaps he was offended by you calling him at the last minute to confirm your date.

The chill of disappointment is more biting than the frost— you want to melt off the ice, you want your spring. You want your Jeongin.

But he isn't yours, perhaps he will never be. He is too sought after, too captivated by the fleeting chase of someone new to spare a glance at you.

But in this instant, you need him. You need him to hold your hands in his larger, warmer ones and get you off the ice rink. You need the sight of his familiar dimples and blooming smile.

So, you call him. He picks up on the first ring.

“Are you that bored on your date?” He playfully taunts, and his voice becomes a gentle breeze that stirs the emotions you struggle to contain. Tears cascade down your cheeks in an achingly familiar path.

“I-Innie,” you hiccup, and you’re instantly met with the sound of scraping chairs against the floor, the hastening cadence of footsteps hurrying out into the street.

“Did he do something to you?” He speaks so coldly, a tone so foreign to the warmth of your Jeongin. He shouldn't be tainted with winter too.

“He didn't come. Can you p-please pick me up?”

“I will. I'm coming in a bit, okay?”

He finds you rather quickly on the ice rink, a sore thumb unmoving between the gliding bodies. He skates over to you, almost falling twice in the process.

“You're so clumsy,” you snort as he stands before you, sobs racking through your body once more at the sight of him.

You weren't mad at Suhoo. You were heartbroken over Jeongin.

“I'll beat him up for you. I'll tell Changbin to help me too,” he smiles, hands fidgeting as they land upon your cheeks, trying their best to wipe away your tears.

“Please don't cry. I hate seeing you cry, Y/n, I really can't bear it." The tears only fall harder at his words, as if he's stringing them forth with each touch of his.

“Did he do something to you?” an unknown voice startles you and you turn to your right to find a girl looking at you then at Jeongin, a frown etched on her eyebrows.

“No, I'm her friend I didn't-”

“I wasn't talking to you,” the girl cuts him off and you laugh despite you, as Jeongin’s jaw hangs open, before closing once more.

“It's not him, thank you so much though,” you smile gratefully and she nods, eyes wary as she glares at Jeongin one last time, before skating away.

“I can't believe that just happened,” He exhales, a breath tinged with bewilderment, before he delicately encircles a hand around your back. Gently, he guides your head to rest against the comforting refuge of his chest.

“What are you doing?” you mumble against his navy hoodie, the one he borrowed from you. You can still smell your perfume on him.

“I'm comforting you.”

“You don't like hugs.”

“It's different when it comes to you.”

You close your eyes, allowing the tide of his warmth to envelop you like a cascade of spring petals.

“Where is your date?”

“I didn't go.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I love you. I'm tired of looking for you in other people,” he quickly says and you peel yourself away from him, feeling as if his clothes were suddenly made of fire.

“What?” you whisper, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I love you,” he repeats, each word drawn out, much slower this time, his hands cradling your face, tenderly, as though holding the sun between his delicate fingers. “I'm tired of pretending you're not my summer.”

“Don't say things you don't mean,” your voice wavers.

“I mean it. I've always loved you. You complete me in ways I didn't know were possible, and I know you only see me as a friend but-”

Your lips press against his, a culmination of aching desires that have lingered for two years. Distant laughter echoes in the background, ice cream melting onto your fingers, a soft breeze ruffling your hair, flowers blooming under the soft caress of the sun— two seasons melting sweetly into the kiss.

“You're literally so blind,” you giggle against his lips, and his smile widens, your noses brushing against one another. “I love you too, idiot.”

“You love me?”

“You're my favorite season.”

“Don't steal my lines.”

“Hey—” he kisses you this time, the winter is long forgotten.

Was it ever a fall if you caught him in the end?

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whorekneecentral · 6 months

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Sticky Fingers

Sebastian Vettel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dad!seb, seb referring to himself as daddy, cheesy flirting, oral (m!receiving), the use of daddy in a sexual context, penetrative sex (p in v), breeding kink, hint to pregnancy kink if you squint, creampie, a touch of cum play, finger sucking, mommy kink but in a joking way.

Word Count: 2,112

Author's Note: would it really be me if I didn't start it off with my favourite dilf on the planet?? happy holidays to everyone who celebrates in whatever way you do and to those of you who don't, I hope you have a wonderful winter season!!

merry smutmas series

Your husband spends his first Christmas at home since his retirement and he went a little.. a lot over board.

It had been a long year; Sebastian had been driving you mad as much as it was nice to have him home. A full year of retirement and Seb was making sure this holiday season was the best one yet.

Last year, after he retired, you had practically already gotten everything together for the holidays. Sebastian helped decorate and do activities with your daughter but this year, he was hands on from day one. He insisted you guys get a real tree as well as decorate the whole house from top to bottom. You couldn't count how many times he had you running to the store to pick up something for him and his newest holiday project.

Your daughter was upstairs in her bed, fast asleep with her messy blonde curls all scattered over the pillow when you checked on her. Sebastian had put her to bed while you had gone to take a shower.

Usually, you'd find him in bed by now or in the living room, finally working on the insanely long list of tv shows Charles had recommended to him over the years.

Tonight was different, the house was quiet and you couldn't seem to spot your husband anywhere as you made your way through the house.

A light peeked out from around the corner, the door to the basement slightly ajar and you pulled it open, slowly making your way downstairs.

You can see Sebastian from behind, the man freezes when he hears the creaking of the stairs. "It's just me," you announced, the man visibly relaxed, turning to smile at you.

"What are you doing down here?" You asked, finally making it down the stairs. "So secretive, are you jerking off?" You jokingly asked, Sebastian rolled his eyes.

"Don't need to do that when I have you," he raises his eyebrows and it was your turn to roll your eyes.

"Whatever Seb," you laughed, "seriously, what are you doing down here?"

"Trying to wrap this," Sebastian steps to the side, revealing the massive box that was behind him. On the front was a photo of the doll house your daughter wanted.. the ridiculously expensive dollhouse that is. It's not that you two didn't get your daughter what she wanted but she had to earn it. Just because her father is who he is and the fact that he has money, doesn't mean she should get whatever she wants.

You raise her as a normal kid, not some spoiled brat who gets whatever they want.

You huffed, arms folded over your chest as you looked at your husband. "Sebastian, you didn't."

He glances between you and the dollhouse. "What?"

"Do you know how expensive that is?"

"Yeah duh, I bought it babe." He says as if he was stating the obvious, which he was.

He takes a step towards you, grabbing your arms to unfold them, "listen, I know you don't want me to just buy her whatever she wants but it's Christmas and she did really well on her first term report card, remember ?" Sebastian smiles at you, trying to justify his purchase.

You sigh, nodding. You always gave in, both he and his daughter knew as much.

You reach up, holding his face. "You're the best daddy a girl could ask for."

From the moment the words left your mouth, you could see the gears turning in his head. Sebastian's hands grab your ass, squeezing it when he leans in to give you a kiss. "I know I am," he whispers against your lips and you know he did not mean it in the same way you had said it.

Laughing, you lean back in your husband's arms. "Only you can make that dirty."

The man swings you in the direction of your couch, dropping you down on it before getting on top of you. "I'll show you dirty," he says, kissing you once again.

Your legs wrapped around your husband, holding him against you. Seb's lips are all over you, hands slipping between the two of you, pulling on the hem of his t-shirt until he stops to take it off.

"Don't look at me like that," he teases, pushing your shirt up to kiss down your stomach. "Like what?" You breathe, head tipped back into the cushions.

"Like you want to fuck me."

"I'd give you another baby right now, Sebastian."

The man freezes, looking up at you. There's a wicked smile on his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. Sebastian moves to between your legs, settling there for a minute as he presses kisses along your bare skin, following the trail from your hip, down your thighs to between them.

Your hand tangles in his blonde curls, giving it a tug and pulling him off of you before he can get to what he really wants. The man's brows furrow, looking at you. "Sweetheart," he huffs, fingers dragging along the bare skin of your thighs.

You give him a shove back with your foot, sitting up. Sebastian watches as you move him to sit and you move from the couch to the floor. Seb reaches for the pillow, dropping in front of you so you'd have some sort of cushioning; he knows even though this was your idea, you'd blame him for sore knees tomorrow.

"You're sure?" He asks, watching as your manicured nails tugs on the strings on his sweats. "Absolutely," you say, your eyes fixed on him as your hands rub up his thighs.

Seb watches as you lick your hand, his head tips back and a soft moan slips out when you wrap your hand around him, moving it up and down slowly.

His eyes don't move from you, watching your every move. His lips parted slightly, as if he was going to say something but he can't bring himself to. You lean forward, a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, the other resting on his thigh. Sebastian groans, teeth sinking into his bottom lip when you wrap your lips around him.

"God-" he breathed, his arm hung over the armrest and his head tipped back into the couch.

His eyes flutter shut when you hollow your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down. You glance up at your husband; eyes shut, his hand reaching down to tangle in your hair - pulling it into a makeshift ponytail.

You move yourself up a bit, lips still around the tip and your hand quickly replaces where your mouth was. Sebastian finally opens his eyes, looking down at you again just as your tongue swirls around the tip.

His hips involuntarily buck upwards, forcing you down on him a little bit more. "Oh fuc- baby, do that- yeah." He's out of breath when he whispers the words.

That was a reaction only you could get out of him.

It was killing him but he forces himself to pull you up off of him, your hand wraps around his cock, moving it slowly. "What?" You asked, your tongue running across your bottom lip - the sight alone makes his cock twitch in your hand; you smile at the reaction.

"I was gonna cum."

"So? I'm not complaining." You tell him, leaning forward to rest your cheek on his thigh. Sebastian reaches down, his knuckles brushing over your cheek - red and flushed.

You looked so beautiful like this.

Sebastian smiles, "I know but.. what if I wanted to try for one more?"

"One more?" You asked, brows furrowed as you looked up at the man. It takes you a moment, your husband's glance was suggestive, as if you were meant to remember something - "Oh!" You giggled, sitting up straight now. "I mean.. yeah."

"So.." he grabs your arm, carefully pulling you up. "C'mere."

Climbing onto your husband's lap, you straddle him and your hand rests on his shoulder to balance yourself. Seb reaches between the two of you, his wrist brushing against your bare cunt when he goes to line himself up with you.

The slightest touch causes you to lean into him; watching him react to you sucking him off was enough to get you worked up.

"All for me?" He looks at you, kissing along your throat.

You hum, teasing him. "Not like I can say it's for your teammate anymore."

Sebastian smiles, his free hand on your hip as you sink down onto him. Your lips parted, his name slipped from between them. As much as he loved to hear you, he didn't want to wake up the sleeping child upstairs - he kissed you, muffling the sweet sounds coming from you.

You liked to be in control up to a certain point, Seb's hands rested on your hips as you bounced on his lap, setting the pace.

After a moment, Seb's hands begin to wander; this man could never settle, not even during sex. His hands move from your hips to the curve of your spine to the back of your neck, holding a firm grip there. You couldn't exactly move, not that you wanted too, but Sebastian forces you down, gently as always, to kiss you. You bite his bottom lip, giving it a gentle pull when he feels you clench around his cock.

"You're - fuck." he moans, making you giggle.

Your hand rests on his jaw, fingers tapping his stubble covered cheek. "I'm what, daddy?"

"You're evil," he mumbles, his hand on your lower back before he flips the two of you. You end up under him, legs wrapped around his hips.

A hand moves to behind his shoulder, your perfectly red nails dig into his pale skin, the marks you left matched the colour of your nails; very festive, you thought to yourself.

Seb's face is buried into the crook of your neck, kissing down to that one spot he knows drives you crazy. "Seb-" you cut yourself off with a moan when you feel his fingers on your clit.

"What was that?" He taunts, watching as your eyes close, back arched, his chest pressed to yours. His lips travel down to your chest, kissing over your tits and as far as he could go. Your nails dig into him once more, Seb feels you clench around him.

"Seb- I'm gonna, fuck-" you mumble and he hums in response, kissing along your jaw.

"Go on, I'm right here baby. C'mon, be good for me." He whispers, he grabs your hand, pulling it to rest on your lower stomach. "Can you feel that, hm? You'd look so pretty with a baby in you - fuck, drove me crazy last time."

You mumble something he doesn't quite catch but from the look on your face, you were going along with everything.

"Please Seb," your lips are on his, begging him for any and everything."

"Please what, sweetheart?" His eyes find yours, "what do you want? You want me to cum in you?"

"Let me make you a daddy again, Seb."

The man groans, your legs tightening around him. "Fuck, okay," he breathes, cheat heaving when you clench around him once more, the tighten knot in your lower stomach comes undone. You find yourself calling his name; the sound and sight of you was something Sebastian never wanted to forget. He finds himself following shortly after you, dropping down on top of you.

Seb moves off of you, pulling out in the process. A soft whimper slipping past your lips at the loss of fullness. He tsks, smiling to himself. His finger drags along your pussy, he watches how you react to his touch, pushing his finger into you to fuck what's slipping back into you.

Before you realize, his hands moved from between your legs to your lips. "Open," he tells you and you do, the man putting his finger between your lips, letting you suck it clean.

He smiles, watching in approval before you let his finger go with a pop. "Good girl," he whispers, holding your jaw when he kisses you.

Seb shifts the two of you, letting you cuddle into his side. His hand rubs along your side, your leg stretched out over his lap.

"You okay?"

"Perfect," you smile, your hand on his chest.

"Well, when we do get up-" he starts but you cut him off, already knowing where he's going. "I'll help you wrap it." You tell him, making him laugh.

"You're the best mommy a girl could ask for," he says and you make a face, laughing. "Doesn't work that way babe."

"Ew, no - I didn't mean like that, you freak."

"Oh shut up," you shook your head, reaching up to kiss your husband.

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#sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel smut #sebastian vettel fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smut #merry smutmas xoxo

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bone-and-butterflies · 9 months

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How to hide plot twists from both your readers and your characters in a way that is not frustrating or annoying.

So I was watching a book review for a book that I liked but both loved and hated some of the plot twists. Of course this got me thinking about plot twists and why they work for both readers and the characters that are falling for these plot twists.

Readers

The key is to control the information that your readers have. Your readers aren't going to consider an option unless (1) that twist is really common for your genre and that reader has read that genre a lot and will therefore be expecting it or (2) you have very obviously given them the specific information nessesary to unintentionally figure out the twist before the characters.

Why does this information stand out, you may be wondering. It is because there is nothing else going on to distract away from a piece of information that can seem meaningless with the right context.

Most of the time, if you're not writing a very specific plot line with a very specific genre, your reader isn't going to immediately know where the plot is going so they may not be looking out for the information relevant to a later plot twist, so as long as you justify an informational choice that explains a later plot twist in a way that covers a variety of basis, they're probably not going to pick up on the one piece you left out, aka what is going to make this twist fun.

This piece of information should be something small and unassuming. It can be magical, but if you're writing fantasy that magic has to be hidden really really well. I find that a plot twist works the best when the piece of information that is missing is something you wouldn't really think about, like the reason a prince was able to infiltrate a prison and hide his identity was because he had his cousin standing in for him and we don't know that this cousin existed and knew the limits of that world's magic (this is actually a plot twist that fooled me btw despite how obvious at sounds now).

A good plot twist that fools the reader relies on twisting the information that the reader has and therefore twisting how they think the story will go.

Midway sidenote: not every plot twist needs to exist to fool both the reader and the character, sometimes it is really fun to watch a character fail because of something inherent to that character.

Characters

Remember how I said sometimes it's really fun to watch a character fail. That only works sometimes.

It is more annoying to figure out a plot twist that is really obvious and then have the character miss it because the author said so.

So how does a writer pull this off?

Be intentional. Have an idea in mind of when you want the reader to figure it out and ask your beta readers when they figured out your plot twists to control that as much as you can.

Your character does not know which genre they're in, so you have to both get inside the character's head and take the reader along with you so they understand why this character is making these poor choices and missing the most obvious villain in the room.

Why would a character miss a plot twist?

They are distracted or delusional. Characters have goals and they may ignore their better judgments to achieve these goals based on their personality. Put more emphasis on your character's motives to hide information that may make plot twists more obvious. Also, your characters may use information about their world to explain their motives and this information may also be vital to understanding a later plot twist

The average person does not go around thinking everybody around them is out to get them especially if those people seem incapable of that through the pov character's ego or the other character's demeanor. If your character has known somebody for a really long time or knows a piece of information that is vital to the worldview they're probably not going to immediately discard it. Fun fact: in the real world, when people have their views disputed, even with very good evidence, it can make them more likely to hold on to that old belief.

Expectation of harm. Different characters have different experiences with shape how bad they think things can get. For example, if a character has never experienced something, they may not know what can lead to that thing. (FYI older characters are more likely to know more things so be careful with this one.)

The Twist

For a twist to work, it must make sense with both real world and in world knowledge as well as common sense, so keep this in mind as you plan.

Conclusion

This isn't comprehensive because good plot twists require a lot of information to make them work and that's makes them very specific. While I would love to explain why different plot twists work, part of them working is them fooling you and hindsight bias is kind of a thing.

Keep writing. If a plot twist just isn't working either scrap it or let it sit until you have the information to build reasons why it should work.

#writing #novel #writing advice #writing tips #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing resources

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bookyeom · 3 months

Text

pairing: s.coups x reader word count: 4.8k warnings: a couple of swears i think, kissing, people being bad friends and treating reader badly :(, a tiny bit of poor self-esteem on reader's end but not much, seungcheol gets a lil mad at one point but it's nothing crazy

Author's Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it's not necessary.

pov by ariana grande

i wanna love me the way that you love me for all of my pretty, and all of my ugly too i'd love to see me from your point of view cause nobody ever loved me like you do

You feel like you’ve been subject to an intervention.

You’d come over to pick up a sweater you’d left at Jeonghan’s, and now you’re sitting on his couch while both him and Soonyoung stare at you, arms crossed. You have the distinct feeling that you’re being judged.

“You’re here early,” Jeonghan finally says, and you immediately don’t like the tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” you say, slowly. “Junseok couldn’t make it last minute, so I just came straight here.” You don’t miss the look that passes between Jeonghan and Soonyoung, and you inwardly groan in preparation when you realize what’s about to come.

”Wow, he canceled?” Soonyoung says, sarcastic as ever.

“We’re so surprised,” Jeonghan follows, and you roll your eyes.

“Things happen,” you try, but your friends don’t even flinch.

“Yeah, they always seem to happen with him in particular, especially when you guys have plans. Poor guy.”

“Come on. Stop.”

Jeonghan smacks you on the arm, and you yelp. “He’s such a dick, Y/N. Break up with him.”

“We’re not dating! I’ve told you a million times that we’re just friends.”

“Does the fact that you’re just friends justify how he treats you?” Soonyoung asks, and that hits you, hard. Your shoulders slump, and Soonyoung sits next to you on the couch.

“He’s just forgetful,” you murmur, but even as you say the words, you don’t really believe them yourself.

“Hoshi is the most scatterbrained person I’ve ever met,” Jeonghan points out, “and even he remembers plans.”

The man in question appears offended for a brief moment, before quickly brightening up at the end of Jeonghan’s statement. “Yeah,” he nods solemnly in agreement. “I sometimes forget my sentences half way through. If I can remember making plans with my friends, so can he.”

You remain silent. You know they’re right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“You know who else never cancels on you, at least not without a solid explanation?”

You know where this is going, but you’re definitely going to pretend that you don’t. “Joshua? Seokmin? Love those guys. Truly the most loyal companions and —“

“Seungcheol not only sticks to plans, he also makes them with you first,” Jeonghan continues on, interrupting you, not even batting an eye as he ignores your pouting.

“And he’d probably rather poke his own eye out than cancel on you,” Hoshi supplies.

“He’s my friend,” you protest weakly. “Do you mean you guys wouldn’t gauge an eye out on my behalf?”

“No,” the two men opposite you answer at the same time, and you sink back into your seat with a huff.

“DK would,” you mumble.

“Yeah, but — bless his stupid ass — he’d do that for any of us,” Hoshi points out. “Seungcheol, on the other hand, thought it was funny to lock me out of the bathroom when I was hungover and needed to throw up last Saturday morning.”

“Okay, but Cheol told me that you spilled a bottle of vodka all over his new laptop while you were drunk and tried to cover it up,” you counter. Hoshi opens his mouth to retort, but Jeonghan cuts him off.

“Last week, he canceled lunch with Mingyu and I just because he didn’t want to get out of bed.”

“He had an exam the night before!” you protest, quickly jumping to Seungcheol’s defense in his absence. “For a really hard class, too! He was telling me about it when he came over to study.” The two men stare back at you pointedly, and you feel your cheeks flush. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jeonghan simply smiles, and it unsettles you. “Just that I’ve known Seungcheol for three years and I’ve never, not even once, seen him willingly study with someone else. He always talks about needing to focus alone.”

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, and try valiantly to hide it with your turtleneck sweater. “Maybe you guys are just annoying.”

“Or maybe he’s in love with you,” Soonyoung pipes up, a wide grin on his face, and you let out a whine.

“Stop,” you plead as the two of them high-five.

“You and Seungcheol are so annoying. If we’re talking about good ‘friends’,” Jeonghan puts quotation marks in the air around the word as he says it, “he should be at the top of your list. That man cares about you so much it’s kind of sickening.”

”Are you saying you don't care about me?”

You’re trying to change the subject, and Jeonghan knows it. He glares at you. “We care about you enough to try and knock some sense into you, don’t we?”

“I’m leaving,” you announce, pushing yourself off the sofa, sweater in hand.

“Hey,” Jeonghan calls out as you pass through the threshold. “Can you take this, too?” He appears a second later as you’re tying your shoes, holding out a pair of socks. You raise an eyebrow in question. “They’re Cheol’s,” he explains. “I can almost guarantee you’re going to see him before I do.”

“How do you know that, Jeonghan?”

“When are you guys hanging out next?”

You squint at your friend for a moment, before you begrudgingly take the socks from his hand. “Tomorrow morning,” you murmur. You pointedly ignore Jeonghan’s laughter as you all but slam the door behind you.

“How was yesterday?”

“Hm?” You hum through a mouthful of food, glancing back up at Seungcheol.

You’re sitting across from him at your favourite cafe. It had been silent since your food arrived and you’d both shut up to shovel food into your mouths, so you’re surprised when he speaks up. You also have no idea what he’s referring to.

“You hung out with Junseok last night, right?” Seungcheol asks, and you wince.

“Oh,” you manage. “No, we didn’t end up getting together.”

Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate, clicking his tongue as he brings his coffee mug up to his lips. “Asshole.”

“Cheol.”

“What? He’s an asshole.” He sets his coffee down again, elbows on the table as he runs a hand through his hair and asks, “Did he cancel, or did you?”

You look back down at your food. “He did.”

Seungcheol simply nods, crossing his arms as he leans against the back of the booth. You’re reminded again of just how big his arms have gotten lately, and you try to shake the thoughts before your gaze lingers just a bit too long. “Of course he did.”

“He’s trying,” you mumble miserably, knowing it sounds lame, even to yourself. “He’s getting better at following through.”

The man in front of you raises his eyebrows. “Is he?”

“You’re being a dick.”

“I’m just telling the truth.” Seungcheol shrugs. “Why do you even like him?”

“I don’t like him like that anymore,” you mutter. “I haven't for a while. It was a dumb crush, Cheol, you know that. We’re friends now.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Okay, well, I’m your friend too. And as your friend, I’m telling you – he’s an asshole.”

This time, you don’t offer a rebuttal. You fall silent, pushing the eggs around on your plate. You can feel Seungcheol watching you, and you can practically hear his defenses lowering the longer you stay quiet. Usually, you can keep up with his banter and sass, but you know he can tell that you’re actually upset now. You’re tired of arguing. Deep down, you know he’s right, and you don’t have it in you to meet his gaze.

“Somebody who cares about you wouldn’t do stuff like that, friend or otherwise,” he finally speaks again, his voice softer now. “I know it sucks… but sometimes, it really is that simple.”

“Yeah,” is all you say.

“Hey.”

You make yourself look at him again, offering him as much of a smile as you can.

He smiles back, soft. “People care about you, okay?”

You nod. The longer he looks at you, the more you start to feel that electric current, that low buzzing that seems to take over your entire body whenever Seungcheol is close. Jeonghan’s words linger in the back of your mind as he finally looks away, breaking the tension between the two of you.

That man cares about you so much it’s kind of sickening.

You hate how downright… silly you feel.

”He promised he’d make it this time,” you sniffle, and Seokmin squeezes you tighter into his side. “He even booked the tickets. Why would you book the tickets and then cancel on the day of?”

“Once a liar, always a liar,” Jeonghan calls out from his kitchen.

“Once an asshole, always an asshole,” Seungcheol agrees. He’s leaning against the doorframe that separates the kitchen from the living room, and you don’t know why it hurts a little that he hasn’t tried to comfort you at all since you walked in. His comment only serves to upset you more, and you glare at him.

“Are you happy?”

Seungcheol blinks in surprise, turning back to you from where he was watching Jeonghan in the kitchen. “What?”

”Are you happy that you’re right? Do you feel good about it, Cheol?” You can feel Seokmin pat your shoulder comfortingly, but it doesn’t help — you’re annoyed now.

”What are you even talking about, Y/N?”

“You’re right — he’s an asshole. You’re right. You love being right, don’t you?”

The silence is almost palpable. Jeonghan has stopped moving in the kitchen, Seokmin is frozen next to you, and you can cut the tension in the room with a knife. Seokmin slowly moves to stand up, heading into the kitchen with Jeonghan, leaving the two of you alone.

“It’s not about being right,” Seungcheol finally says, and you avoid his gaze when he joins you on the couch. “All I care about is the fact that he should treat you better.”

Seungcheol’s tone leaves no room for argument, and you can feel your shoulders sag. You know that he’s right — and you hate it.

“I know,” you admit, and all of your misplaced anger drains from you in seconds. “I know he should,” you repeat, feeling your remaining defenses start to crumble. “So why won’t he?”

You say the last words so quietly that you’re surprised anyone hears you, but you know that at least Seungcheol has when his shoulders fall. You hear him inhale a breath, but you speak again before he gets a chance to say anything.

“I just don’t understand why I’m not worth the effort.” You can hear your voice crack, followed by silence, and then — you break. The tears are falling before you can stop them. You feel the couch shift as Seungcheol turns. Whatever hesitation he’d had about comforting you before seems to ease up as his hand finds your knee and gives it a gentle squeeze. You’re grateful, but you still can’t look at him.

“What about the people who do treat you well?” His tone is softer now, but you can tell he’s still upset by the tone of his voice. You don’t have a chance to answer before he speaks again. “I could tell you a million times how great I think you are, I could make a thousand plans to hang out, I could go on and on about how much I like being around you… but nothing will change until you figure out a way to believe me. I—“ He clears his throat. “We— care about you so much. All of us. We should be the people that matter.”

“But what did I do wrong? With him?”

Seungcheol’s hand on your thigh is gone in a flash. He stands up, and you miss his warmth immediately. “I don’t know what else to say,” he says, voice low. He’s angry, you can tell, but he would never admit to it.

You want to apologize, desperate to bring him back to you, but you’re frozen.

“I’m going to head out.” He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t look back at you. Jeonghan and Seokmin appear from the kitchen, but no one says anything except for a ‘drive safe’, and then he’s gone.

It’s silent for a moment, and then you say, “I fucked up.”

To your surprise, Jeonghan doesn’t scold or tease you. He doesn’t even agree. Seokmin disappears back into the kitchen to tend to the food Jeonghan was cooking, but Jeonghan himself joins you on the couch with a sigh.

“Listen,” Jeonghan starts. “You and I are similar — we always tend to focus on the people that don’t care. We want to be loved, so when someone doesn’t put in as much effort as us, we feel like we have to figure out why. We want to know what we did wrong, even though we didn’t do anything wrong at all. We forget that there are tons of people that love us a lot already. I love you, for example.” Jeonghan pinches your thigh affectionately, before he juts his thumb in the direction of your front door. ”Or what about that guy? The one who just left my apartment, pissed, because you let someone make you question your worth? He cares about you without thinking twice. For him, it’s effortless. You’re worth it, and you’ve never had to prove that to us. You just are, and always have been.”

You’re officially crying now. You know you’ve really upset Seungcheol, and you know your friends are all right. You know it, you know they love you and you love them, but why don’t you believe that you deserve it?

“I should go home,” you say softly, but your hand squeezes Jeonghan’s in acknowledgement, in a quiet thanks.

“I won’t say anything else except for this,” Jeonghan says gently. “I know you think Cheol is worth it, too. Being with someone doesn’t always have to feel like effort.” He shrugs. “Sometimes, it’s effortless.”

You spend the next week thinking, and thinking, and thinking, until the ball drops and you finally just do it. You block Junseok on every social media, you delete his number, and you’re proud of yourself for it. You don’t message your friends back very much throughout the week. Seungcheol in particular has been radio silent, but you suppose you deserve that. You don’t reach out first, instead taking the time to process everything that’s happened, to process everything you’re feeling — and not just about Junseok.

You know that Seungcheol has always meant a little bit more to you than anyone else. Now, you’re wondering why you’ve never done anything about it — and you’re also wondering just how long you’ve been blind to the fact that Seungcheol most likely, almost definitely, likes you back.

Y/N [5:36pm]: early Galentines dinner at my place this Sunday at 7?

You receive an almost immediate thumbs up from Seokmin and Soonyoung.

Hannie [5:43pm]: yaaaaas

Wonu [5:44pm]: might be a bit late but I’ll be there

Kwanie [5:52pm]: NOOOOO I’m busy :(

Kwanie [5:52pm]: galentines?? WITHOUT ME????? UNBELIEVABLE

You smile at that, texting Seungkwan a private apology in a separate chat. Your heart jumps in your chest when you receive another notification, and you’re filled with relief so quick and intense that it feels like you’ve been doused in water.

Cheollie [5:58pm]: I’ll be there. Cheollie [5:58pm]: need help setting up?

You hug Seungcheol the second he walks through your door. He reciprocates, and you feel relieved and anxious and warm and fuzzy all at once.

Now, a half hour has passed, and neither of you have mentioned what happened the week before. He tells you about his week at work, and you hate the small talk but you know it’s all just the road back into the familiar ease of your friendship — so you participate. It’s only when you’ve finished getting ready for dinner, Valentine’s Day decorations and lights all strung up and ready to go, that he speaks up again. You’re preparing tea for the two of you when he catches you entirely off guard.

“Will Junseok be joining us tonight?”

You can feel your shoulders tense up. You can tell that it pains him to say it, but you also know he’s the brave one for even bringing it up. You take a deep breath.

“He’s not coming tonight, or any other night, actually.”

Seungcheol seems surprised as he hands you a mug from the cupboard before grabbing one for himself. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s okay. I’m fine, really.”

Seungcheol’s eyes follow you as you move across the kitchen to the kettle, pausing before speaking again. “I can tell.”

You turn back to him as you click the kettle on to boil, an eyebrow raised in his direction. “Was that sarcastic?”

The man smiles as he shakes his head. “No, I mean it. You seem happier than...” He trails off, but you both know what he’s thinking: than when I saw you last.

“I am,” you reply honestly, and it’s silent again for a moment before you both start to speak at the same time.

“Listen, I–”

“Hey, Cheol–”

You can feel warmth start to spread through you when he begins to laugh at your clumsiness — it had only been a week, but you’d missed that. You’d missed him.

“You first,” you offer, and he nods.

“I’m sorry that I was frustrated when I left the other day,” he says, and you tilt your head in surprise at his apology. He shrugs before continuing, “I shouldn’t have left like that… but in my defense, I didn’t know you’d disappear for a week.” He’s joking, and you smile a bit at that.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Cheol.” He joins you at the counter and you begin to pour hot water into both mugs, eyes focused on the task at hand, but you can feel him next to you. It suddenly all feels so intimate, the way you’re making tea for him the way he likes it without him saying a word, the way he watches you move around in your kitchen as if he does it every day.

You turn to hand him his tea and when your eyes meet his, you feel a flush begin to creep up your neck to find him already looking back.

“I mean it,” you say softly, and he hums in response, eyebrows raising as he takes a sip and waits for you to continue. “I really am sorry for not being around the last couple of weeks.” You hop up onto the counter, legs dangling off of it as you wait for your tea to cool.

Seungcheol sets his mug down on the counter and sends you a soft smile, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. “It’s okay. I get it.”

You nod, looking down, and pick at a thread on your jeans. “Thanks,” you say quietly, but he knows you’re not finished speaking. His eyes don’t leave your face, and his fingers still grip onto the handle of his mug as he waits, ever patient, for you to gather your thoughts. “I’m still sorry, though. I was just so overwhelmed and didn’t want to deal with it, so I let everything build up to a breaking point.”

“I promise it’s okay,” Seungcheol repeats. He’s being genuine — you can hear it in his voice. Your eyes meet his again, and you almost wish they hadn’t because you have more to say, and you might lose all of the courage left in you if he keeps looking at you like that.

“Just… Just let me explain,” you request quietly, and he nods again. “I… I guess I just needed a bit of time to myself. To figure out what’s important to me.” You pause, choosing your next words carefully. “To figure out who is important to me.”

You can feel your cheeks flush as you finish. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you this whole time, and you think your heart is in your throat now as he continues to gaze at you.

“Yeah?”

Does he understand what you’re implying? Your eyes move to land on the dark strand of hair that’s fallen into his eyes. You suddenly feel a desperate need to reach out, to brush his hair back, to touch it. To touch him. Would he let you? Does he want that, too?

“Yeah,” you finally repeat, your quiet voice matching his as you meet his gaze again.

He moves then, slowly, almost as if he’s worried he’ll scare you off, shifting closer and reaching across your legs to set his mug in the sink. Your breath catches in your throat as he straightens back up in front of you, his now-empty hand falling to the counter beside your thigh. He’s standing right in front of you, caging you in between his arms, and you can’t look away.

“And what’s the verdict?” Comes his question, dark eyes searching yours.

“That I should start to focus more on the people that show me they care. Because those are the ones that I care about the most, too.”

The tension in the air is palpable.

Then his fingers gently, tentatively, brush against yours where they rest on the counter. He doesn’t do anything more, testing the waters, and it takes everything in you not to shiver. His gaze falls to your mouth, and you hold your breath — then he looks down and away from you, his eyes squeezing shut, and the moment is lost.

“Cheol?” You say carefully, desperate to get him to look at you again. He hums in response, but he doesn’t look up. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but you feel like if you don’t say what you want to say right now, you never will. “Thank you.”

That seems to get his attention as he lifts his head to meet your gaze once more. You can tell he’s surprised as he murmurs, “For what?”

“For being here.” You’re not sure if that’s what you meant to say, or how you meant to say it, because it sounds far too simple for how you feel about the man in front of you. And then he smiles.

“Of course,” comes his reply. You watch as his smile grows and he says, “I was told there would be free beer.”

You blink at him for a moment, processing — and then you let out a single, surprised laugh. You feel some sense of relief wash over you as the tension between you breaks a little, as everything around you seems to soften. You feel a little bit like you’re glowing from the inside out, warm and fuzzy like the pink heart-shaped lights strung up around your apartment, and you wonder if he feels it, too. You’re starting to think that maybe he does.

“Cheol,” you say, and you offhandedly wonder why you’re saying his name so much. He grows serious again, but the lighter air between the pair of you gives you just enough confidence to continue. “I don’t just mean today,” you elaborate, your voice soft. You feel vulnerable now, even more than before, your eyes falling to your lap. “You’re always there when I need you, and even sometimes when I think that I don’t.” Seungcheol laughs quietly at that. “It means a lot to me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “You mean a lot to me.”

When you look up, you find him gazing back, and you abruptly realize that he’s moved even closer. The fingers that were playing with yours move up to your waist, and your entire body reacts to the warmth of his palm.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs, a quiet question that threatens to overwhelm you. He’s making sure that you want this just as much as he does. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“More than okay,” you affirm. His mouth lifts at the sides, dimples just peeking through. Again, you think that there’s something more that you wanted to say, but your breath is caught in your throat and he’s just so… beautiful.

“I…” He trails off, and you watch as his eyebrows furrow. You’re desperate to be even closer as you wait, closing the final space between you to press your forehead to his. “It was so hard not talking to you this week,” is what finally he says, and though he hasn’t said much, you think you understand.

I missed you. That’s what he’s trying to say.

You desperately want to communicate to him that you won’t leave him like that again, that you don’t plan on going anywhere, that the last seven days away from him sucked just as much for you. In a bold move, you ease your legs apart, leaving room for him to stand between them. Your calf moves to hook behind his knee, tapping against him in a silent request for him to come even closer. You hope he understands — that you want him close like this, that you missed him more than you think he realizes.

He seems to understand you just fine.

He easily fills the space you made for him, his chest nearly flush against yours now. He gives your waist a gentle squeeze, and you inhale a shaky breath as he brushes his nose against yours. Your hands have found his shoulders, grasping onto the material of his sweater, and his eyes fall shut.

The same, pesky strand of hair is falling into his eyes again, and you’re pretty certain that given your current position, you’re allowed to do something about it now. So you do, lifting a hand to gently brush it back and over his forehead, gaze following the movement. His eyes open at the touch, and a whisper of your name brings you back to him.

The moment you lock eyes again, he’s leaning forward to capture your mouth with his.

Your hand falls from his forehead to his bicep as you gasp into the kiss, as you try and process. When you do, when you realize what’s finally happening, you can’t get enough. You’re pulling him in so close that you feel a bit feral, your fingers pressing into his arms, his back, one hand finding its way to the hair at the nape of his neck. You can tell he’s not faring much better than you as he chases your lips relentlessly, as he pulls you into him so close that you can’t feel anything but him.

When you finally need to breathe, your hands find his face. You pull back, eyes taking him in as he lets out a breath, like he can’t believe what’s just happened, either. He looks at you, and you look back, and you have no idea what to say or do — until suddenly, you’re beaming. You can’t help it as you pull him back in for one long, slow kiss, grin wide against his mouth, your hand moving again to the back of his neck. He’s smiling, too — your favourite smile of his, the one that’s completely, entirely genuine — and when he pulls away only to bury his face in your neck this time, you can feel the smile against your skin.

“Fuck, I’m in love with you.”

It’s quiet, whispered against your skin, but you hear it. Your fingers pause their trail up and down his back. You move his face back up to look at him, your eyes searching his, desperate to know if you heard him right. “Cheol?”

He kisses you again, once, twice, so slow and soft that it makes your head spin. “I love you,” he says, breathless against your lips. He waits for you as you let it sink in, his hands firm on your waist, eyes boring into yours so you know that he means it.

You believe him.

“I love you too,” you whisper, foreheads moving to rest against each other once more. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be. It’s okay.”

He pulls you into his chest, and you can feel just how fast his heart is beating. You’re certain that yours isn’t doing much better.

“I do have a question though,” he says after a few moments pass, and you hum, urging him to go on. “You said you were going to spend more time with the people that care about you, right?”

You move back to look at him and tilt your head in question. “Yes?”

“I’m guessing that includes Jeonghan and Hoshi and the boys,” Seungcheol muses, and you nod, your eyebrows raising. Then he pouts, and you sputter out a laugh.

“What’s that face for? They’re your friends, too!”

Seungcheol huffs. “Yes, but if you meant that you’re going to kiss them like that, too, then –”

You clap a hand over his mouth. “Ew!”

The man in front of you has a shit-eating grin on his face now, and you remove your hand. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“Trust me,” you shudder, “you’re the only one I’ve ever thought about kissing.”

“You’ve thought about it, huh?”

You look up at him, smacking his chest. “Shut up!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve thought about it too.” When he moves to kiss you again, you stop him with a hand on his chest. “Speaking of our friends,” you tease, “they’re literally going to be here any second. You have permission to kiss me as much as you want to later, okay?”

A/N: here it is! The first of our Thirteen Valentines. I have to be honest, I got a little carried away with this one... I'll put out a full disclaimer that not all of the fics will be this long! Seungcheol has a solid grip on me and I couldn't do anything about it, you guys.

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :)

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @savventeen @eoieopda

#seungcheol fluff #seungcheol angst #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you #scoups x reader #scoups x you #scoups fluff #scoups angst #scoups imagine #seungcheol imagine #seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen angst #my writing #thirteenvalentines #cscfic #I’m so nervous to post this lol

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mostlysignssomeportents · 18 days

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Humans are not perfectly vigilant

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in BOSTON with Randall "XKCD" Munroe (Apr 11), then PROVIDENCE (Apr 12), and beyond!

Here's a fun AI story: a security researcher noticed that large companies' AI-authored source-code repeatedly referenced a nonexistent library (an AI "hallucination"), so he created a (defanged) malicious library with that name and uploaded it, and thousands of developers automatically downloaded and incorporated it as they compiled the code:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/03/28/ai_bots_hallucinate_software_packages/

These "hallucinations" are a stubbornly persistent feature of large language models, because these models only give the illusion of understanding; in reality, they are just sophisticated forms of autocomplete, drawing on huge databases to make shrewd (but reliably fallible) guesses about which word comes next:

https://dl.acm.org/doi/10.1145/3442188.3445922

Guessing the next word without understanding the meaning of the resulting sentence makes unsupervised LLMs unsuitable for high-stakes tasks. The whole AI bubble is based on convincing investors that one or more of the following is true:

There are low-stakes, high-value tasks that will recoup the massive costs of AI training and operation;

There are high-stakes, high-value tasks that can be made cheaper by adding an AI to a human operator;

Adding more training data to an AI will make it stop hallucinating, so that it can take over high-stakes, high-value tasks without a "human in the loop."

These are dubious propositions. There's a universe of low-stakes, low-value tasks – political disinformation, spam, fraud, academic cheating, nonconsensual porn, dialog for video-game NPCs – but none of them seem likely to generate enough revenue for AI companies to justify the billions spent on models, nor the trillions in valuation attributed to AI companies:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

The proposition that increasing training data will decrease hallucinations is hotly contested among AI practitioners. I confess that I don't know enough about AI to evaluate opposing sides' claims, but even if you stipulate that adding lots of human-generated training data will make the software a better guesser, there's a serious problem. All those low-value, low-stakes applications are flooding the internet with botshit. After all, the one thing AI is unarguably very good at is producing bullshit at scale. As the web becomes an anaerobic lagoon for botshit, the quantum of human-generated "content" in any internet core sample is dwindling to homeopathic levels:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/14/inhuman-centipede/#enshittibottification

This means that adding another order of magnitude more training data to AI won't just add massive computational expense – the data will be many orders of magnitude more expensive to acquire, even without factoring in the additional liability arising from new legal theories about scraping:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

That leaves us with "humans in the loop" – the idea that an AI's business model is selling software to businesses that will pair it with human operators who will closely scrutinize the code's guesses. There's a version of this that sounds plausible – the one in which the human operator is in charge, and the AI acts as an eternally vigilant "sanity check" on the human's activities.

For example, my car has a system that notices when I activate my blinker while there's another car in my blind-spot. I'm pretty consistent about checking my blind spot, but I'm also a fallible human and there've been a couple times where the alert saved me from making a potentially dangerous maneuver. As disciplined as I am, I'm also sometimes forgetful about turning off lights, or waking up in time for work, or remembering someone's phone number (or birthday). I like having an automated system that does the robotically perfect trick of never forgetting something important.

There's a name for this in automation circles: a "centaur." I'm the human head, and I've fused with a powerful robot body that supports me, doing things that humans are innately bad at.

That's the good kind of automation, and we all benefit from it. But it only takes a small twist to turn this good automation into a nightmare. I'm speaking here of the reverse-centaur: automation in which the computer is in charge, bossing a human around so it can get its job done. Think of Amazon warehouse workers, who wear haptic bracelets and are continuously observed by AI cameras as autonomous shelves shuttle in front of them and demand that they pick and pack items at a pace that destroys their bodies and drives them mad:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

Automation centaurs are great: they relieve humans of drudgework and let them focus on the creative and satisfying parts of their jobs. That's how AI-assisted coding is pitched: rather than looking up tricky syntax and other tedious programming tasks, an AI "co-pilot" is billed as freeing up its human "pilot" to focus on the creative puzzle-solving that makes coding so satisfying.

But an hallucinating AI is a terrible co-pilot. It's just good enough to get the job done much of the time, but it also sneakily inserts booby-traps that are statistically guaranteed to look as plausible as the good code (that's what a next-word-guessing program does: guesses the statistically most likely word).

This turns AI-"assisted" coders into reverse centaurs. The AI can churn out code at superhuman speed, and you, the human in the loop, must maintain perfect vigilance and attention as you review that code, spotting the cleverly disguised hooks for malicious code that the AI can't be prevented from inserting into its code. As "Lena" writes, "code review [is] difficult relative to writing new code":

https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773779967521780169

Why is that? "Passively reading someone else's code just doesn't engage my brain in the same way. It's harder to do properly":

https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773780355708764665

There's a name for this phenomenon: "automation blindness." Humans are just not equipped for eternal vigilance. We get good at spotting patterns that occur frequently – so good that we miss the anomalies. That's why TSA agents are so good at spotting harmless shampoo bottles on X-rays, even as they miss nearly every gun and bomb that a red team smuggles through their checkpoints:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/23/automation-blindness/#humans-in-the-loop

"Lena"'s thread points out that this is as true for AI-assisted driving as it is for AI-assisted coding: "self-driving cars replace the experience of driving with the experience of being a driving instructor":

https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773841546753831283

In other words, they turn you into a reverse-centaur. Whereas my blind-spot double-checking robot allows me to make maneuvers at human speed and points out the things I've missed, a "supervised" self-driving car makes maneuvers at a computer's frantic pace, and demands that its human supervisor tirelessly and perfectly assesses each of those maneuvers. No wonder Cruise's murderous "self-driving" taxis replaced each low-waged driver with 1.5 high-waged technical robot supervisors:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

AI radiology programs are said to be able to spot cancerous masses that human radiologists miss. A centaur-based AI-assisted radiology program would keep the same number of radiologists in the field, but they would get less done: every time they assessed an X-ray, the AI would give them a second opinion. If the human and the AI disagreed, the human would go back and re-assess the X-ray. We'd get better radiology, at a higher price (the price of the AI software, plus the additional hours the radiologist would work).

But back to making the AI bubble pay off: for AI to pay off, the human in the loop has to reduce the costs of the business buying an AI. No one who invests in an AI company believes that their returns will come from business customers to agree to increase their costs. The AI can't do your job, but the AI salesman can convince your boss to fire you and replace you with an AI anyway – that pitch is the most successful form of AI disinformation in the world.

An AI that "hallucinates" bad advice to fliers can't replace human customer service reps, but airlines are firing reps and replacing them with chatbots:

https://www.bbc.com/travel/article/20240222-air-canada-chatbot-misinformation-what-travellers-should-know

An AI that "hallucinates" bad legal advice to New Yorkers can't replace city services, but Mayor Adams still tells New Yorkers to get their legal advice from his chatbots:

https://arstechnica.com/ai/2024/03/nycs-government-chatbot-is-lying-about-city-laws-and-regulations/

The only reason bosses want to buy robots is to fire humans and lower their costs. That's why "AI art" is such a pisser. There are plenty of harmless ways to automate art production with software – everything from a "healing brush" in Photoshop to deepfake tools that let a video-editor alter the eye-lines of all the extras in a scene to shift the focus. A graphic novelist who models a room in The Sims and then moves the camera around to get traceable geometry for different angles is a centaur – they are genuinely offloading some finicky drudgework onto a robot that is perfectly attentive and vigilant.

But the pitch from "AI art" companies is "fire your graphic artists and replace them with botshit." They're pitching a world where the robots get to do all the creative stuff (badly) and humans have to work at robotic pace, with robotic vigilance, in order to catch the mistakes that the robots make at superhuman speed.

Reverse centaurism is brutal. That's not news: Charlie Chaplin documented the problems of reverse centaurs nearly 100 years ago:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Modern_Times_(film)

As ever, the problem with a gadget isn't what it does: it's who it does it for and who it does it to. There are plenty of benefits from being a centaur – lots of ways that automation can help workers. But the only path to AI profitability lies in reverse centaurs, automation that turns the human in the loop into the crumple-zone for a robot:

https://estsjournal.org/index.php/ests/article/view/260

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/01/human-in-the-loop/#monkey-in-the-middle

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

Jorge Royan (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Munich_-_Two_boys_playing_in_a_park_-_7328.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

Noah Wulf (modified) https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Thunderbirds_at_Attention_Next_to_Thunderbird_1_-_Aviation_Nation_2019.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #ai #supervised ai #humans in the loop #coding assistance #ai art #fully automated luxury communism #labor

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fyodere · 27 days

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gakuen!fyodor smut

my cold fingers running through your hair.

﹙ 💬 ﹚── parings: fyodor dostoevsky x fem!reader ♡

₍^. .^₎⟆ ── content warnings / tags : nsfw content (mdni), high school!au, fyodor is mean, nasty absolutely filthy smut, misogyny kink, corruption kink, academic rivals, petnames, degradation, fyodor is a sadic, hairpulling, blowjobs (m receiving), underage (you and fedya are like 17), catholic guilt, wet dream, dirty thoughts ♡

﹙ 🔪 ﹚── synopsis : Fyodor never liked you, not with your presumption and your ability to always get the questions right in the classroom. He not only didn't like you, but he hated you, even though he despises you as woman, you constantly occupy his thoughts. However, somehow, you haunt him. Fyodor wakes up with a start, he realizes that you were present in his dreams. A dream he would pray to forget.

﹙ 🩸 ﹚── author's note : GAKUEN!FEDYA SMUT BABYYYY oh lord you guys don’t know how much i’m excited for this. I even made an ai bot of this concept on janitor ai. this was on my drafts since last year so excuse my grammar 😩 i hope you enjoy it !!

୧ ‧₊˚ 🔪 💬 🐈‍⬛ ⋅

Still breathless, Fyodor tried to look around to rationalize the situation. He could see straight now and his eyes were getting used to the darkness of his room.

03:27AM

Oh.

Dostoevsky sighed. It was late, he needed at least one good night of sleep for his upcoming test and cello practice. Now his body is feeling uncomfortably awkward. This was unusual, Fyodor always keep everything in check. Maybe if he tried to close his eyes, and if he lay really still, he could trick his body into falling asleep again. It was a good plan. Obvious, but still good plan. Fyodor smirked for himself as he close his eyes again, of course he always have a plan.

But then, the sudden feeling on his throat came back. His heartbeat is racing again. What is it? No, It couldn’t be…

Fyodor opened his eyes with a slight feeling of rage. He remembered.

Oh, he remembered.

And for the first time, he wished for his brilliant brain stop working. Fyodor knew how his memory was sharp, but now it feels like a big waste of time.

Fyodor had a dream. A dream that he would pray to God just to forget. Could he call it a nightmare?

It wasn’t a nightmare for sure, but it was still cursed. Maybe uncomfortable and embarrassing.

Embarrassing. Ah, how Fyodor was glad that anyone couldn’t look at his poor face at this moment. He hates when he doesn’t have full control of the situation, keeping his feelings under control was a form of not getting lost, he is used to it.

Fyodor doesn’t dream regularly. He was a really sleepy or not sleep at all type of person. When his body finally gives in to fatigue, the dreams become blurry because of his mind’s tiredness. But Fyodor doesn’t mind at all, Dostoevsky couldn’t see the mystical side of dreaming. For him, this was only a way for his mind process everything that he saw through the day.

That’s why his friends appear regularly when he dream about something. Sometimes his family when his subconscious is trying to process his past — even though Fyodor is neutral about most of his dreams, he would consider these the bad ones. Or at least the ones that he would like to forget.

But it wasn’t that type of bad dream either.

When Nikolai or Sigma appear on his dreams things get a lot lighter. It always ended up being a relief. Sometimes he chuckles for himself in the most unfortunate moments remembering those. Fyodor let a nasal laugh come out when this thoughts come on his mind.

No. This wasn’t the answer yet. His dream hadn’t been any of those things, but he is getting close.

He dreamt of you.

You.

This wasn’t surprising for him though. Fyodor knows — Oh God, how bad he knows — how he keeps you on his mind. Fyodor could justify himself telling that you’re his rival and it’s normal having plans about the next provocative thing he is going to say when you guys met again, or spend time thinking about how he is going to destroy you in the upcoming test.

Fyodor could pretend that he was fooling himself with those false conclusions, but he knows the truth, he always knows. It’s the greatest Dostoevsky after all, the special child that was gifted, or even better, blessed with his brain.

But it wasn’t the case, and Fyodor knows that too. He always knows. Another sigh came out of his mouth, Fyodor closed his eyes and take another deep breath. When did he allowed himself feeling this emotions? This wasn’t right. But he can’t keep torturing himself, maybe just for tonight he will allow all those thoughts come — Just for releasing them in the next day, of course.

Fyodor still could feel the warmth. It was cleaning day and you were his duo, this mean that you’re going to be together for a while. It may sound exhausting, you guys were rivals and have a psychological war while cleaning was kind of messed up. You guys were in a silent truce. No one had to flag this, you both could read the situation — And each other’s thoughts, even though you’re not going to admit that —, you payed too much attention on him just like he recorded every reaction of you. From your facial expressions from your small and smooth body movements. Every detail.

Well, it’s not like you could run away. You also committed your sins when spent too much time looking at Fyodor bitting his thumb while he was concentrating, you hated how playful yet majestic his actions are. Everything about him just fitted so perfectly that you couldn’t help but feel some anger— Or just full yourself to believe that you’re not feeling other type of intense feeling beside rage.

You were sweeping the classroom’s floor while Fyodor cleaned the windows. The sun was setting and the sky was turning into a beautiful orange color slowly turning darker as the clouds complemented it. Suddenly, everything felt warm. Fyodor was looking at you by the window reflection, he also could see how much he was staring and this made he feel ashamed. You could feel Fyodor’s piercing gaze even though he wasn’t even looking directly. You couldn’t help but give a small smirk.

“Looks like someone can’t focus on his little task…” You said playfully, your eyes were still looking at the floor while you sweeps. You wanted to give that unbothered impression. “Am I distracting you?” You finally looked up, he was still looking at the window. You could hear his sigh — It almost sound like a laugh.

How presumptuous. Fyodor thought. And you know that he thought that. It make you chuckle, this unexpected harmony was slowly tying you two together.

“Oh.” Dostoevsky finally turned to you. His silently confidence makes you want to shut his mouth before he even dare to speak a word. “Oh, darling, I almost forgot that you are here.” Now was Fyodor’s time to be presumptuous, and he knows how this will get into your nerves. “Trying to get an excuse to talk to me, ah? How cute.”

You let a tsk come out. Fyodor felt victorious keeping you silent. Now you’re looking at the floor again, sweeping the classroom. Even though your eyes were focused the task, your ears still work perfectly. And you heard Fyodor’s slow footsteps getting closer. You know he is behind of you now, but you try to play clueless.

“Hmmm…” Fyodor is getting closer to you, he is speaking next to your ear. Your body gets tense. “What is it now? Little mouse got scared?” His voice almost sound like a whisper, a very teasing one. His breath is touching your neck and ear. Where did his russian accent became so provocative? Now his hands are slowly moving to your waist.

Fyodor likes how you look small next to him. You look so vulnerable, so easy to tease. He can’t let you scape now. Now his hands travel till they reach out your upper body. Dostoevsky couldn’t help, he squeezes your uniform letting it wrinkled. Your breath got heavy as he keeps touching you, unfortunately, you catch yourself biting your lip to not let a moan slide. Fyodor’s touch feel so great, he loves how his big and skilled hands can hug perfectly your curves and play with them.

“Wait…” You finally open say something after opening and closing your mouth for a while, your voice is a little shaky and a few sighs come when you talk. “Not here, what if somebody—“

“Hm?” Fyodor cut you off abruptly. He doesn’t like when you complain, he likes to have full control of the situation. “I’m not doing anything, darling. Am I?” Now his hands squeeze you more roughly, as if he wants to get a better reaction from you. The russian young man has a smug look on his face. You look so fragile and easy to mess with. He enjoys the sense of control, Fyodor is taking the lead now, and you feel like a loser for enjoying it so much — It’s like screaming that you lost.

Dostoevsky's eyes widened slightly, and his fingers tightened around your waist, making you feel uncomfortable. He didn't seem to notice your pain, though. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against your neck. His mouth was cold and dry, but you could still feel his tongue licking your exposed sensitive skin. When he finally pulled away, he smiled, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. He let go of you and sat back in his chair, his hands resting on his thighs. He seemed to have forgotten about your existence entirely. You felt like nothing more than a toy he played with when he got bored.

Dostoevsky is silent for a moment, contemplating whether to continue or not. He looks at you with a half-smile, a hint of cruelty in his eyes. He knows how to play with words and actions, and he takes advantage of every opportunity to make sure that you´re miserable and uncomfortable around him. He is not someone who shows affection or warmth, and he is definitely not someone who is good at expressing feelings. He is a cold, calculating man who sees everything in terms of power and control. His tone is still harsh, but there's a hint of softness in his voice when he says. "You're not doing anything?"

You decided to act like a greedy whore and got into your knees.

Fyodor pulls down his pants and underwear, revealing his cock, which is already hard. He strokes it slowly, watching you closely. He seems to enjoy the way you react to his actions. He keeps on talking, his voice is still harsh, but there's a certain amount of tenderness in his tone. He doesn't want you to feel bad, just frustrated and unhappy. He is a sadistic bastard, but he has a soft side too. And it shows in the way he treats you. "Now, tell me, what do you want? Do you want me to fuck you? Or would you prefer me to beat you? Which one do you like better?"

"Hit me. I challenge you." You giggle in a act of courage. "I know you can’t—" Fyodor chuckles darkly, a sign of his humor. He's not laughing at you, he's just teasing you. He slaps you across the face, hard enough to make you cry, but not enough to draw blood. He leans in close, whispering in your ear. "Tell me, how do you like being treated like a piece of meat? A toy to be played with? A slave to obey? Because that's what you are, isn't it? You're nothing but a whore, a filthy, worthless piece of shit."

Fyodor was merciless. He didn’t care about the brimming tears in the corner of your eyes, didn’t care about your shaking legs or your small chokes.

Slobbering sound filled the small stall, and you sat on the floor obediently like a little puppy as he used your mouth to his liking. Your uniform was wholly unbuttoned, bundled up at your elbows with your nipples peeking from your bra.

It was always his favorite look on you, clothed in the school’s garb. The uniform that should represent your focus on studies and discipline is wearing for you choke on him. Fyodor has to admit how pleasing it is, it arouses him to the point of madness.

“Good little mouse, now, open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” He commanded once more in a commanding but still seductive tone. He was loving this, the power is was feeling. His smirk grew as he continued, he was loving every second of this.

His eyes were dark and sinister now, they were almost completely in a reddish purple tone. His pupils are comically big due the excitement. He seemed so in control now. He loved it.

Fyodor smirked once more as you do as asked. You seemed to be getting really into this now.

Your tongue pressed wide and flat. Fyodor shuddered at the feeling, at your tongue rubbing over his slit, precum oozing out. You did it again and Fyodor let a moan slide out, you was pressing the tip of your tongue into his slit now, coaxing out more of his essence. Dostoevsky loved the feeling, he loved how pathetic you look like this.

It was so intense, the sight of your lips curled around his cock, how piercing his arouse gaze was. You hummed before sinking down, swallowing as much of Fyodor’s length as he could. Dostoevsky was panting, the feeling so intense that it was almost overwhelming. You began to suck harshly, cheeks hallowed out and you was bobbing your head now as well, head going up and down as you sucked Fyodor’s cock. The russian didn’t want to say it loud, but he wasn’t going to last.

"Good little mouse, I knew you could do it." He said in a soft and seductive tone, his eyes closed in pleasure. His hands moved to your head now, he loved the feeling of her hair in his hand. He seemed a little proud, even. He felt like he had helped you, in a way. "Good girl..." He whispered as he gently stroke your hair.

You keep sucking him harshly, enjoying how he felt warm inside of you. You couldn’t help but let a few tears coming out. The intelligent girl with a sharp tongue was gone, now you’re just a little whore to Fyodor play with — and you both sightly love this.

“Do you like to be dominated by a man like me, little mouse? Are you such a submissive little girl?” He asked with a smirk. He seemed to be amused by the whole situation, by all the control that he holds now. You can almost feel that he was about to release.

You felt your panties dampening as he say that, he grabbed a fistful of your hair keeping your head in your place as he changed the pace to a quicker one, accelerating the beats of your heart. He was pulsing inside your mouth. He was so close, so close, so close…

Fyodor just couldn’t resist. The wet and warm feeling of your mouth along with your pity puppy face was driving him crazy. You are being so obedient to him. He need to fill your mouth a little more, just a little more…

“Jesus.” Fyodor said to himself, alone in his room. The dream was wild, he feels pretty ashamed by how sinful and dirty his mind can be when he is asleep, at least you will never know that. Right now he just want to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but this weird feeling don’t leave. His hair still feel sticky and his forehead sweaty. His skin felt so tight like a growing claustrophobic feeling.

Oh, wait.

Dostoevsky looked down to his pants with a disgusted face. How shameful of him. Now that he has knowledge of the weird feeling on his body it’s easier to ignore.

Ah, for sure he isn’t going to go anything about that besides ignore. Fyodor genuinely believe that masturbation is a stupid thing, he is not going to waste his time — and risk his inner pride doing such a thing.

Dostoevsky closed his eyes taking a few deep breaths, he just needed to clean his mind. Maybe counting one to one hundred could help, Fyodor just need to take you away from his thoughts.

He just didn’t expected how addictive this fantasies are.

hii heres part two <3

#bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bsd smut #fyodor x reader #fyodor smut #bsd gakuen

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spacelazarwolf · 8 months

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I apologize you’ve explained this before but why do you think male/female socialization is bullshit? From the way I think about it isn’t it just the fact that certain gender roles are pushed onto afab and amab people by authority figures and thus society in general to dress a certain way, show or not show emotions, forced to cover up, etc? Isn’t this a thing that happens or is there another term for it

I agree that male socialization to justify describing amab people as inherently bad is wrong though. But otherwise isn’t this an actual thing?

i've sort of touched on it in other posts, but i'll use this opportunity to try and collect all my thoughts and expand on some things i've been thinking about lately. i can't promise it'll be all-encompassing, but i'll do my best.

i think when it comes to conversations about "socialization", we're having the wrong conversation. we shouldn't be asking "how did being 'raised male/female' make this person act?", we should be asking "how was this person affected by the gender roles they were taught growing up, and how did it intersect with other parts of their identity?"

to try to illustrate this better than just a wall of text, i'm going to give some examples of "traditional" gender roles that come up a lot in discussions about socialization, and how different people might be affected by them.

"female" gender roles

must be softspoken/speak when spoken to

under white supremacy, black women are painted as aggressive (which is seen as a bad thing) while white women are painted as docile (which is seen as a good thing). how would this gender role affect a black woman differently than a white woman?

jewish women who are raised in jewish culture are generally seen as much more outspoken than the culturally white norm. how would the expectation to be "softspoken" affect them?

how would this affect trans men who are raised with this expectation, but when they transition and are put in the societal role of "man" are expected to be more outspoken? or trans women who have this gender role used against them when they try to speak up?

must focus on being a mother

to society, giving birth is one of the pillars of womanhood. how would this affect a trans man who has given birth or wants to? how would this affect a trans woman who can't?

how would this affect a black woman who deals with racist rhetoric surrounding black people having multiple children? how would it affect a black mother who is afraid of bringing black children into a world that is not safe for them?

how would this affect women who don't want children? how would it affect women who do want children, but still want to maintain their life as an individual person and not just a mother?

must be nurturing and learn how to handle others' emotions

how would this affect women of color who are frequently burdened with managing white people's emotions in conversations about race?

how would this affect all trans people, both those who were raised with this expectation and those who have this expectation put on them later in life, whose safety can be compromised by perceived "outburtsts"?

"male" gender roles

must not express emotions

how would this affect men who are racial and ethnic minorities who are trying to talk about the oppression they face and the grief that comes along with it? especially those for whom showing intense emotions is perceived as aggression?

how would this affect trans men who transitioned later in life who now have to deal with people's negative reactions to them showing the same emotions they've shown their whole life?

how would this affect trans women who were raised with this expectation, and now have difficulty expressing their emotions even though the societal role they're in now "allows" for that?

must be a breadwinner and protector, regardless of personal cost

how would this affect trans men who have different safety needs than most cis men who are now expected to put that safety on the line? (remember malte c.)

how would this affect working class men who are not paid fairly, expected to work more for less, with less benefits and protections, and then don't get to connect with their families and friends the way they might want to?

how would this affect darker skinned men of color who are already at higher risk of police violence who want to protect their loved ones from harm but know if they try the consequences could be deadly?

must not show any femininity

how would this affect jewish and east asian men who are seen as inherently more feminine because of their ethnicity/race?

how would this affect queer men whose expression is more feminine?

how would this affect trans women who are still forced into the societal role of "man"?

how would this affect trans men, who are inherently seen as feminine because of their agab, or if they don't want to present entirely normatively masculine?

particularly when it comes to trans people, depending on when we transition, our agab can have very little affect on any sort of social conditioning we receive. for me, i came out and started medically transitioning when i was 28, almost 29. my life up until that point had been profoundly affected by misogyny and sexism. growing up in a conservative town, i'd been told by the culture that i lived in that my place in the world was to have babies with a nice man, and maybe do some music on the side. i experienced medical sexism that left me disabled, educational sexism that forced me to drop out, and those things are a huge part of why i am who i am today. so it does frustrate me when people say that because i'm a man today i couldn't possibly have experienced or been affected by those things, because those experiences supposedly belong to "women" and by trying to claim them i'm somehow defaulting on my claim to my identity as a man.

i can't change what i experienced or the way it affected me. but just because i experienced one thing doesn't mean that everyone who shares my identity has to have the exact same experience, or that everyone who is the "opposite" identity of me has to have experienced the opposite. the trans boy i know who came out at age 6 is going to have a very different experience. his teachers see him as a boy, he is growing up in a more progressive and accepting community, his parents are fierce advocates for him in social and medical settings, and he is going to have a really amazing life. the kind of life all trans people should be able to have.

my life experiences will be more similar to a trans girl who came out at age 6 and experienced growing up placed in the "girl" role than they will be to the trans boy who came out at age 6 and experienced growing up placed in the "boy" role. and that, to me, is what makes trans experiences so fascinating. the trans girl might not know what it's like to get messaging about having babies being your only role in life because you have a uterus, but those messages about having babies are still going to affect her because having babies is seen as the most womanly thing you can do, and people will use the fact she can't have babies to "prove" she's not a woman. women with uteruses who are infertile often experience similar reactions, people stripping them of their womanhood because they can't carry a child. the trans boy might not know what it's like to have high school teachers speak down to you and put you in the front row so they can look down your shirt in the middle of class, but he'll still know what it's like to have people try to prevent you from transitioning because of your physical capability to have children, and what it's like to live in a world that hates you and wants to punish you for trying to "rise above your station."

every human being experiences some sort of social conditioning, because that's how humans grow and develop. we look to the world around us to try to learn how to interact with others, what society expects from us, etc. there's really no valid argument for the idea that no one experiences any sort of conditioning when they're young, because that's just not how human brains work. it's just that it's not as simple as "male vs female socialization." there are dozens of ways that intersecting experiences like race, ethnicity, ability, neurodivergence, queerness, etc. can affect the way society sees and treats you, the way society expects you to behave, and the way society enforces that behavior. it's not black and white. nothing is.

the only person who can determine how your upbringing may have affected who you are today is you. other people might be able to make observations, but you're the only one who can connect the dots. if there are things you learned growing up that you find were not healthy behaviors or were ineffectual coping mechanisms, you can unlearn them. we are always growing and changing. i've said before, socialization is something that happens to you, not something you are. no one is trapped in their 14 year old self forever.

#ask avishai #socialization

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elliespeach · 9 months

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tear you apart | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ"if your friends won't watch over you, i will." ´ˎ˗

pairing ellie wiliams x fem reader synopsis ellie owns her own vinyl store and the day you wander in changes both of your lives forever. she quickly becomes infatuated with you, desperate for your love that she believes is meant to be. when things in your life begin to spiral, ellie is there to catch you, but you'd never suspect she was the reason you fell in the first place. heavily heavily based on the book/tv show "you" on netflix wordcount 4k warnings gosh where do i start, stalking both cyber and in person, ellie is obsessive, manipulative, a gaslighter, a pervert lowkey, possessive and easily jealous, she breaks into readers apartment and goes thru your stuff, shes also so delusional like top tier delulu, shes based off joe goldberg so i mean put the pieces together. this is all from her perspective, most if not all of the inner monologue is ellie's thoughts about you, the italics is verbatim what she is thinking in that very moment if that makes sense. like joe, all of her actions are justified in her mind, and she doesn't see anything wrong with them. reader has a dysfunctional family. pls lmk if i am missing something! authors note hi hello hi, i have been so excited to post this!! just wanted to clarify this rn, i am bringing in a LOT of elements from the book and show, especially in this part, if it seems very similar thats why. i don't plan on following the plot line for season one, but i needed a good base to jump off of, dont hate me. n yes, readers best friend is shauna from yellowjackets i couldn't help myself. i needed a girl group, sue me. cat is apart of this girl group, not ellie's ex along w dina, also not ellie's ex in this au lol

fuckin’ trash, ellie thought to herself, looking over the torn up vinyl in her hands. the guy who returned it obviously had no fucking clue how to take care of something. especially something so needing of love. she placed the vinyl down on the counter beside the register before stepping into the back of the store, grabbing her tools of restoration. as she rummaged through a drawer, the familiar bell rang from the front door indicating a new customer, but she ignored it and continued searching for the sandpaper she always left laying around somewhere. the last drawer she opened was the winner, taking her supplies, she emerged from the small room into the front of the store, the beads in the doorway swaying as she walked through them.

thats when her eyes found you, examining the vinyl left on the counter. you hadn’t noticed her yet, too engrossed in the mishandled vinyl. she watched you for a moment as you looked it over, tracing the scratches that lined it. to ellie, you looked to be the definition of a nice girl. sporting a flowy sundress that laid just below your ass. nice girl who likes attention, she thought to herself, looking you up and down from afar.

she played it cool, keeping her eyes on the sandpaper and cloth in her hands as she made her way back to the counter. you finally took notice of her when she stood in front of you. “oh, hi,” you smiled brightly, to which ellie looked up. “whoever handled this vinyl should be in jail.” a sense of humor, ellie smiled at you, letting a breathy laugh fall from her lips. and an appreciation for vinyls, rare.

“a life sentence, for sure.” she spoke, and you laughed. a laugh that was genuine, not forced by politeness.

“can you point me to where i could find a david bowie album, ellie?” you asked sweetly, and she had to remember she wore a name tag. flirting with me and you like david bowie? ellie’s grateful its a tuesday afternoon, the store is dead. giving her more time to talk with you. you, who seemed to never stop smiling at her.

“against the wall,” she pointed. “third box from the left.” she lets you wander over yourself, taking the time to admire the way you carry yourself. you had a pair of red, heart shaped sunglasses resting on your head. ellie could tell you liked to pay attention to details, it was evident in the way you matched your sunglasses to your dress, and she wondered just how many pairs you owned. both short dresses and uniquely designed sunglasses together. her head tilted at the thought, switching her over chewed gum to the other side of her mouth.

you rifled through the box as ellie’s gaze pierced your back, although you were seemingly unaware. david bowie, she thought again. not another stuck up gen z who only listens to who is in the top one hundred, no. no, you were special. ellie put her focus onto the vinyl in front of her, slowly dampening it with the cloth before grinding the sandpaper over the scratches. but she kept you in her peripheral vision and she couldn’t help but notice you were struggling to find a specific one, or at least it looked like it.

“need help?” she asked you, keeping her voice neutral.

your body turned to face her, meeting her eyes and a faux pout on your lips.“i think the only one i want isn’t here, or i’m seriously blind.”

ellie chuckled, coming out from behind the counter, “my money’s on blind, just organized this box a few days ago.”

you huffed lightly, standing to the side while she approached you and the box. “i can’t find the rise and fall of ziggy stardust, it’s one of my favorites.”

of course it is. ellie barely looked in the box before she saw the album, pulling it out and holding it out for you. “i’ll book your eye appointment,” she said with a light grin.

“ugh, my hero,” you gushed, taking the album from her hands gently. i’ll always be your hero, but something tells ellie that you didn’t really need her help to begin with.

“c’mon, i’ll ring you up,” ellie led you back to the register and you placed the vinyl down on the counter lightly.

“promise i won’t do what that guy did,” you joked, reaching into your bag for your wallet.

ellie almost wishes you would. you’d come in a few days later, apologizing for being so clumsy but asking if she could fix it for you. of course, she would say yes. how could she say no to someone like you? “you couldn’t if you tried, pretty sure he did it on purpose.”

“what makes you say that?”

“just a hunch,” ellie shrugs, scanning the barcode on the vinyl.

“maybe his dogs got it, or worse, his kids.” you kept eye contact as you spoke, which shocked ellie. a lot of people would break away, divert conversation, maybe even stay silent all together. but not you.

“if that guy had kids, i’d feel bad for them,” to a lot of people, this comment would rub them the wrong way, and ellie internally cursed herself for saying it. you’re a sweetheart in her eyes, someone who wouldn’t think things like that, but again, you laughed. the transaction was almost over and she was grasping at straws, so she kept going. “guys like him blame everything on everyone else, i wouldn’t be surprised if his kids actually hated him but,”

your head tilted, waiting for more. to ellie, it looked like you were hanging onto every word she said. and she relished in it. “–thats only if someone wanted to have kids with him, which i highly doubt.”

“from what i’m hearing it doesn’t sound like anyone would want to,” you’re trusting my judgment. ellie’s lips curled up with your words, and she bagged the vinyl in a plastic bag. you handed her a credit card, which was decorated with flowers along with your name. and you want me to know your name. you could’ve used cash, the vinyl was less than twenty dollars. but no, ellie knew better and she knew you better. your eyes found the scratched up vinyl yet again, “but you can fix it?”

ellie swiped the card against her own wishes. she’d give you the whole store if you asked with that pretty smile. “it’ll be back in the box within the hour, why? you like pink floyd?”

“yeah, for the most part. i haven’t listened to that album yet,”

“i can put it on hold for you.” ellie rushes out, and she feels like she came on too strong. you could easily listen to it on spotify but she reminds herself that you’re in her store for a reason. you probably own a vinyl player, an older model you got off of facebook marketplace because the newer ones don’t match your personality. maybe a pioneer or a yamaha, and now shes thinking about how you probably dance around your room listening to music. your response breaks her from her imagination.

“that’d be great, thanks ellie,” but she can see it so perfectly in her mind, you’d wear a big t-shirt and a dainty pair of underwear. twirling and spinning about, the t-shirt riding up as you did and as you stood in front of her in that short dress her mind seemed to unravel and she had to clear her throat.

“anytime–” she tacked your name at the end of her words with a smile, handing back your card which you very quickly put in your wallet. her eyes glanced down for a split second, admiring how the dress pushed your tits together before bringing them back up to your face.

“aren’t you going to tell me to have a good day?” you teased much to ellie’s enjoyment, reaching out for the bag she was holding for you.

“have a good day,” your fingers grazed hers, and ellie knew it had to be on purpose. a flirt, and a good one at that.

“you too, ellie. i’ll be back for that album.”

you left the store as quickly as you came, taking your sweet vanilla scent with you. ellie thought about your interaction all day, it consumed her walk home and when she entered her small apartment she fell to her couch and opened her laptop.

plugging your name into any and all social medias was easy, who could forget a name like yours? all your accounts were public, and very quickly ellie could tell just what kind of person you were. the sweet girl who loved vinyls who had an addiction to posting online. your twitter was filled with random, obscure thoughts and always with a hashtag at the end of them. from time to time you’d tweet about where you were, and ellie tsk’d out loud to herself. anyone could find you within seconds, you need to be more careful. you seemed to tweet about everything in your life and ellie refreshed the page, wishing to see a post about the cute girl in the vinyl shop who helped you find your favorite album.

yet, there was nothing. and for a moment it hurt her, but the more she thought about it, it was better you didn’t post about her. that means it was real for you, hope remains.

facebook provided the basics of your family, although the account was inactive. but your parents who divorced a few years back seemed to only post about your younger siblings, leaving her to wonder if they didn’t approve of your lifestyle in the city. she stalked their pages like it was her job and at this point it felt like it was. she discovered that your two younger siblings went off to college out west and your parents even sold their home to be closer to them while still living separate lives. ellie felt pity for you, how could they just leave you behind?

your instagram feed was an aesthetic one, pictures posted solely to appease your followers. a pretty sunset here, a mirror selfie there, a quick post about the food from the restaurant just down the road from ellie’s shop. there were also posts about your own art, colorful and detailed, just like yourself. a painting you did was the last thing you posted, but this one wasn’t like your other ones, it was black and white and had a lonely floating balloon in the center and the borders were lined with overlapping words. ellie could make out only a few of them, ‘melancholy’, ‘nobody’, and ‘distress’.

there were lots of group pictures of you with friends. ellie could see you looked more authentic than them, who all seemed to resemble something out of a factory for young adults. you were a pearl in a sea of clams.

out of curiosity, ellie brought herself to your friend’s pages as well. she needed to see the types of people you spent time with, seeing if they were someone she would approve of for you. one friend made an appearance more than others and she assumed that was your so-called best friend, a spunky city girl named shauna. her own instagram was like an influencer’s guide to posting online, and she seemed like someone ellie would avoid at all costs. shauna’s posts of you always had you in the background, or if you were directly in the frame it was a candid where shauna looked better. she's making herself look better at your own expense, can't you see that?

your other friend’s social media were bland and unhelpful. ellie brought herself back to the task at hand. she typed your name into google and watched the loading screen. your name brought up a string of links all connecting back to your art pieces you’ve submitted to local papers and art galleries. an artist in new york city, aren’t you ambitious. maybe your parents didn’t like the instability of being an artist. but yet, you still pursue your passion. its admirable.

what also popped up was a white pages link, with a few clicks, and a small charge to her credit card she found exactly what she was looking for. there wasn’t much she could do with your phone number, texting you would be creepy. there was no way for her to explain how she got it, so the next best thing was your address. which, lucky for ellie, was only six blocks from her own.

if she could find it this easily, she needed to make sure that no one else did. which is how she found herself standing across the street from your apartment, peering into the windows that had no blinds, no curtains, no protection from the outside world. you were on full display for all of new york. first thing were doing together is buying you blinds. you were lounging around on your coach, scrolling through your phone and periodically shifting in your spot to get more comfortable.

it was dark now, and again, luckily for ellie, someone standing on the sidewalk of new york wasn’t a weird thing to do and no one paid her any mind. for days she would stand in the same spot, studying your movements throughout your apartment. sometimes you would go to bed on the early side, but most nights you were fully awake, sipping something out of a purple mug which she could only assume was coffee, and drawing lines on a canvas.

everytime you would take a break and scroll through your phone, ellie would refresh every social media, waiting for a post. your fingers danced on the keyboard and after a few refreshes on ellie’s end, your twitter had a new post.

@yndoesartstuff: if anyone has tips on how not to procrastinate finishing a wip, please enlighten me

if you just put down your phone, i’m sure you could get it done.

one night she watched as you dipped your wet brush into the purple mug instead of the designated paint water cup. they didn’t even look similar, but ellie laughed to herself while you groaned, tossing your head back before getting up to dump the liquid out of the mug. this would also be the first night ellie gawked at you while your hands dipped below your shorts, she quickly looked around. no one else seemed to notice that you were pleasing yourself with your own gentle hands and her eyes found you again, sprawled out on your couch.

your back arched, obviously hitting your sweet spot and ellie swallowed hard. blinds. were getting you blinds.

some days, ellie was too busy with the store to watch over you and she hated herself for it. too tired to walk the six blocks and instead just looking over your social media again, looking through your friends posts to see if you’ve been up to anything. you had never come back for the album, which ellie had finished nearly two weeks ago now. but tonight, as she locked up the store she knew she was going straight to the sidewalk adjacent from your apartment.

when she arrived at her usual spot she saw you through the windows and you looked too well put together for a night to yourself. you were dolled up and ellie liked to imagine it was for her, you’d leave your apartment and head to the store for the album you said you’d come back for weeks ago. but her hope was squashed when a cab pulled up outside your apartment and a woman who looked way too old started to walk up the steps to the building and entered the main door. ellie had been here enough to know the general look of your building's inhabitants, and this woman wasn’t one of them. maybe someone's mom, maybe she's visiting a friend. she can’t be here for you. no way.

but through the windows, with no blinds, she saw you open your door for this woman and welcome her into your home. your mom. it has to be. ellie’s eyebrows narrowed when you pulled this woman into a hug, then pulled back and let your lips kiss hers. okay, so not your mom. who the fuck is this?

ellie, whose eyes were going from her phone to the big windows of your apartment, began to search through your online presence and found no traces of her. this mysterious woman who, now, you seemed to be having a highschool make out session with on your couch, was all over you, touching you, kissing you, and worst of all, pleasing you. that sweet smile that had previously been for ellie, was now for this woman and it made ellie’s stomach turn. but she didn’t leave, instead watched while the two of you began to peel each other's clothes off.

were getting you blinds and were getting rid of this woman.

the next day while she opened up her store, she couldn’t help but think about you and this woman. she was frustrated, of course. but she couldn’t blame you, obviously this woman was prying on your weaknesses for her own pleasure. taking advantage of you. it sickened her, and she had to know more. she had been through every following list she could think of and still, this woman was a mystery. and as she refreshed your twitter (a new hobby of hers), a new post popped up.

@yndoesartstuff: lunch date with @shaunamavisxx never felt so right – at hoppers tavern

seeing that, ellie locked up shop way too early. it was fairly easy to make her way into your apartment, all she had to do was play the part. “sorry, my girlfriend hasn’t given me a key to this door yet,” she said with a friendly smile to your neighbor, who out of the kindness of his heart let her into the building. she waited until he was in his own apartment before picking your lock.

it smelled like you once she stepped inside, and she let the aroma fill her nose as she walked around. it was messy, canvases piled up everywhere along with dirty paint brushes. clothes lined your floor from the bedroom all the way to the kitchen and she had to force herself not to clean it up for you. she examined your paintings up close, admiring how the strokes on the canvas looked. she noticed you draw a small bird in every corner, the bird is plump, uncolored and holding a small twig. it was your signature, and it matched you so well. but, what she really was after was your laptop, she found it sitting on your unmade bed.

no password? she was shocked, and made a mental note to tell you that you needed to secure your devices. it’s almost as if you wanted her to search through it to get to know you better, and ellie did just that. it was linked to your phone and as she went through your messages they all seemed to be relatively normal. for someone like you, at least.

loads of messages from a group chat labeled city gals, and she knew it wasn’t you who had named it being as you were funnier than that, and less basic. scrolling up, all the conversation in the chat was merely nothing of note, no mention of this woman to your friends which ellie found odd. maybe just a hookup? but even then, wouldn’t you tell your friends?

ellie could gauge your friends' personalities through the texts they would send, shauna was most definitely the unnamed leader of this group, probably also the one who named the chat. her texts were mostly about planning activities, meanwhile the others just tacked on with fake enthusiastic responses. even yourself.

leaving the group chat, she continued to scroll down your messages and found an unsaved phone number which seemed to be the winner. you don’t have her number saved, this is good. a lot of your texts to her went unanswered, left on seen and only responded once you’d ask for her to come over. that usually generated a reply within minutes from this woman, who ellie still didn’t know the name of. it angered her even further, realizing she was just toying you along. only using you for your body when you were so much more than that.

ellie jotted down the unsaved number into her notes app, saving it for later when she could find out just exactly who this woman was. it was clear from the texts that she wanted nothing to do with you, and you still kept texting her like a sad puppy. it was pathetic, really, but ellie didn’t judge. she knew that your attention seeking habits were brought on by your dysfunctional family, she just wished it was her on the receiving end.

she found herself in your emails and saw you had an abundant amount of unread ones. it was a lot of spam and a waste of time, so she moved on. she decided it was best to go into your search history, restaurants, art galleries that allowed online submissions, sometimes even silly questions that ellie would most definitely answer for you if you asked.

“how do magicians do their cutting in half tricks?” you would ask her from the couch while ellie made you both dinner.

she’d call out from the stove, “there’s a fake table, the girl puts her legs through that. the legs you see on the other end are fake, baby.” and you would giggle sweetly as you always did, thanking her for being a know-it-all.

but as she continued to scroll further and further down your search history, she saw that the day you two had met, you googled “vinyl stores near me” and ellie’s was the first to pop up. she thanked every star in the universe for such a coincidence, but the more she thought about it, it couldn’t have been a coincidence because to her, it was always meant to be.

suddenly your laptop dinged and a new message appeared at the top from city gals. it was shauna and she was proposing a night out and it didn’t take long at all for the rest of the chat to respond.

shauna: drinks at our favorite spot tonight?

dina: totally what time

shauna: like 8 ish?

cat: sounds good to me

shauna: im with our heavy drinker, she says yes too!! see u guys then

dina: hangin w out us :( rude

cat: yeah wtf

shauna: oh hush its no biggie, we’ll see you guys tonight

ellie sat back as the texts rolled in, heavy drinker? ellie didn’t like the sound of it, and your friends seemed to think it was funny. bet they don’t even watch over you when you’re plastered, leaving you alone where anyone could hurt you. a few clicks on your instagram and she found a group mirror picture in a dirty bar bathroom, and the location clear as day at the top of the post. she confirmed it with a few other pictures and a deep dive of your twitter. gotta stop putting your location everywhere.

ellie knew your lunch date with shauna would be ending soon and you’d return home to start getting ready for the evening. she shut your laptop down, placing it exactly where it was on the bed before and started towards the door to leave. as she was on her way out, a bright red thong caught her eye. it was so carelessly thrown between the couch and the table next to it and she stuffed them into her pocket before locking the door behind her on the way out. she knew you’d never notice, your apartment already looked like a tornado had been through it seven times over.

she played with the string of fabric in her pocket as she walked down the sidewalk back to her place, contemplating the night to come. if your friends won't watch over you, i will.

read part two here :)

#ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams au #modern!ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader

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queers-gambit · 1 year

Text

When Pride Married Prejudice -- completed series masterlist

requesting rules and masterlist

completed series summary: she is the (only) trueborn daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Lord Laenor Velaryon. after her younger brother, Lucerys, slices out the eye of their uncle, Aemond Targaryen, her hand is offered as payment to keep the peace. though unexpected, she finds herself in a loving marriage, until devastating news forces her to make an impossible choice.

pairing: Aemond Taargaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

total series word count: 97,184

universal warnings: book and show spoilers, cursing, smut, angst.

note: alternate endings because i'm restless and can't choose. also the idea of a Velaryon!reader isn't my own, so, let's play nice and show a shred of respect for different author's varying ideas, perspectives, and details - thank yew ✨

in chronological order:

When Pride Married Prejudice

When Pride Married Prejudice [ part two ]

It Feels Like (the Very) First Time

It Feels Like (the Very) First Time [ part two ]

Petitions

Distraction

The Inky Green Council

Bearer of Bad News

alternate ending one: Kin Slayer • [ part two ]

alternate ending two: Sweetest Devotion • [ part two ]

guide to final alternate endings: Kin Slayer -- is for those in the slutty angst club 'cause i'm comin' for your feelings. reader is Team Black. Sweetest Devotion -- is for those who crave closure and comfort. reader is Team Green.

in order of publication: Distraction Bearer of Bad News Petitions The Inky Green Council When Pride Married Prejudice WPMP [ part two ] It Feels Like (the Very) First Time It Feels Like (the Very) First Time [ part two ] alternate endings: Kin Slayer • [ part two ] // Sweetest Devotion • [ part two ]

WPMP Universe drabbles:

all with be marked if they are or are not considered part of the series timeline. please pay attention to those notes.

organized in order of submission brought to you by my beautiful readers who sent requests:

• ( requested ) -- ANGST and small fluff i wonder who aemond would choose if he was given the choice of saving his wife or the baby during childbirth... would he choose the same as his father?

• ( requested ) -- ANGST and FLUFF i LOVE how you worded Aemond choosing sweet girl over the baby because in all truth, i imagine him justifying his choice as "what use would i be to a child without the tender care of a mother and an empty shell of a father?" because he knows IF he had chosen otherwise, he would be following in Viserys' footsteps and he wants to be better. so i 100% agree he would choose them over the child and ofc he's read of the aftermath of losing a child for the mother, so he's there to coax sweet girl but at the same time i feel like he'd mourn with her because that was a life they created together.

• ( requested ) -- ANGST how would he react if ever in a very unlucky world, he would lose both his child and wife at childbirth (not like viserys where he was given a choice) but bec it just didnt end well esp when pregnancies doesnt really guarantee a safe delivery all the time.

• ( requested ) -- ANGST and FLUFF 3 Times He Didn't, 1 Time He Did can you please write something where the reader (the same reader in your series) is spending memorable time with her grand sire and he asks her “will I be remembered as a good king”. 🥺

Wattpad link

to all my beloved readers -

thank you for coming on this journey with me. what a ride it's been writing this. now that the series is complete, i admit i'm a bit sad. i just wanted to take the time to thank you all for bearing with me through this, and share my gratitude and love for you all. happy reading!

all my love, 🖤🍒 Cherry

#aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond hotd #aemond targaryen x oc #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #complete series #complete story #requests open #author is sleep deprived

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darling-i-read-it · 1 year

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Please Don't Kill Me Mr. Ghostface!

Ethan Landry x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: SCREAM 6 SPOILERS

Very susceptible reader, Ethan’s reaction to Richies death, heavy insinuations to smut, faking the reader and Quinn's death, the slight cringe from scream movies dialogue <3, they literally have sex in the stab shrine room (when will it be my turn), (that is all skipped over), me being unsure of which ghostface was at which part of the movie. I have only seen Scream 6 once and was just going off what I remembered from it! So if things are wrong (timing, Ghostfaces, etc) then I’m sorry!

Author’s Note: This one requires some suspension of belief lol. I don’t know HOW to justify the reader doing all these things except Ethan was cute and this is fiction <3 I hope you enjoy love!! Also I wasn’t 100% sure on if Ethan’s name was Landry or Bailey. I went with Landry (which I’m sure is fake but what we all know him as! So when I refer to the house under that name, I was torn lol)

Requested by anon, ooh ok so can i request ethan x reader where reader is in on the ghostface thing (but she’s not killing people she just knows about it) and like helps them with stuff (maybe with like faking quinn’s death and stuff like that idk) but also it’s somehow fluffy relationship stuff in there too lol (sorry it’s kinda all over the place😬)

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You were laying on the back on Ethan’s bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. His room was as familiar to you as your own was. You had practically grown up at the Landry’s home, going to school together for your entire lives and staying close to Ethan throughout it all. Once you had hit your senior year in high school, it seemed only fate the two of you would start to date.

You put down your phone with a gentle huff. Ethan was sitting in front of his computer, doing homework. You turned your head to face him, trying to telepathically ask for attention. As if he could read your mind, he spoke.

“Give me five more minutes.”

“I told you taking chemistry for your lab credit was dumb,” you said gently, wanting to sneak in an ‘I told you so’ but also not wanting to agitate him. He was brilliant but he couldn’t always grasp the concepts he had too. You suspected some sort of undiagnosed learning disorder but you were far from a doctor. You were just his best friend.

“I don’t remember you being there when I picked classes,” he said quietly. You rolled your eyes.

“I was there in spirit.” You grabbed your phone again, flipping onto your stomach. You opened it back up, looking past the screensaver of you and Ethan over the summer before, when you had been on vacation with his family. You reopened Instagram to continue your doom scroll. The first story you opened was that of a friend from school.

You usually skipped through them, not even registering what they said, but paused at the large bolded letters over a black screen.

Rip Richie <3

You didn’t deserve to be caught up in that.

You squinted, trying to place a Richie that you knew. The first that came to your mind was Ethan’s older brother but just as quickly as the thought came it left. It couldn’t have been him. He was with his girlfriend in Modesto or something. Plus, how would this rando in high school know before you and Ethan? You kept flicking through your friend's stories, confused. Someone had posted a blurry picture of some sort of a crime scene. It was clearly reposted over and over so the picture itself was almost lost. You squinted and then opened your google app.

“Okay I’m done,” Ethan said, shutting his laptop with triumph. “I’m gonna ace that test tomorrow.” He looked over your face and could read you with ease. Something was wrong - or at the very least, confusing. “What?”

You googled Richies name. A flood of reports came up. Your lips parted in surprise as you looked up at Ethan.

“What?” he repeated. Before you could explain, his phone rang. You both looked towards where it was resting on the bed beside you. You picked it up. A picture of his dads face was on the screen.

“Oh God,” you whispered, unable to contain it.

“What?!” He grabbed his phone and answered it quickly. You sat up, tossing your phone aside and getting off the bed. You knew right now that he was going to be grieving more than you. You had to be there for him. “Hello? Dad?” You stood beside him and watched as his face fell according to the muffled voice coming from the receiver. His eyes were laced with confusion and then a flash of pain. “What do you mean Richie-” He was cut off.

There were a few more words and then his eyes went dead with emotion. You weren’t sure what to do so you stood beside him. He hung up the phone after a moment and then looked up at you.

“Richie?” He nodded. His mouth was ajar, stunned. He threw his arms around you and you embraced each other as he stood up. “What happened?” you questioned. He was silent. You didn’t think you were going to get an answer until he spoke, quietly.

“He was murdered.”

“It’s actually kind of easy to rig the roommate system,” you muttered, sitting at a chair in front of your computer. The room behind you was filled with the remaining Landry’s.

You turned around to the curious eyes.

“So he’s in?” Wayne questioned. You nodded.

“He is going to be Chads Meeks-Martin’s roommate,” you explained. He slapped you on the back in approval. You had always been on good terms with Wayne. He was the kind of dad who would ask if you had a boyfriend and then wink at his son after the question. He had been slightly overjoyed when Ethan told him you were dating. This came only after, he caught you and Ethan making out in his bedroom. It was mortifying but he was pretty okay about it.

“Thanks kid.”

Wayne was not on board with telling you about the trio of Ghostfaces he had planned but Ethan insisted. You had been there when he found out about Richie and you had been there through all of his hardships.

“And you’re okay with coming around my place when we have to…you know…” Quinn made a gesture of slitting her own throat. “I mean, I need someone to drag my body out of there while my dad brings a new one.”

You tried to ignore your moral dilemma to this. Ethan had promised you wouldn’t be implicated in any of this. But sometimes when Wayne looked at you during this you knew that you would go down with them if he went down. You were in on this now. You couldn’t exactly back out.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Quinn smiled brightly. She was slightly too excited about this. Part of you still didn’t think it was actually going to happen. You couldn’t imagine Ethan actually killing anyone, even when his eyes lit up while talking about it.

“For Richie,” Ethan promised, placing a hand on your back. You nodded, getting up and out of your seat. You gestured to the computer.

“I didn’t think this is what I would be doing with my computer science classes,” you admitted. Ethan smiled gently at you, ever soft, even when planning people’s literal murders.

“For some reason I feel like she’s gonna have no problem faking our deaths but is gonna have a major problem not getting to hang out with Ethan everyday,” Quinn teased. You rolled your eyes. You wouldn’t be able to see him when he’s hanging out with his new group of friends. At least, you would have to act like you didn’t know him as closely as you actually did. You were meant to be Quinn’s friend in all of this.

Wayne was grabbing papers off the table, presumably planning. He actively tried to burn everything after memorizing it. You thought it was dumb of him to write anything else.

“You gonna be okay?” Ethan questioned, jokingly. You rolled your eyes.

“You shouldn’t be worried about me E. I’m not the clingy one in this relationship.”

Sam and Tara shouldn’t have been as nice as they were. You recognized the hate in Sam's eyes, the paranoia that was justified. She was out, attempting to get Tara from a party she went to. You sat in the apartment with Quinn. She was working through some homework. You were still amazed she did all that during this planning.

You walked around her room, making sure that all of the blood that needed to come out, would come out. You liked to double check. You blamed the nerves.

“Is he supposed to be here soon?” Quinn questioned. You glanced back at her.

“You know we aren’t supposed to talk that much over the phone.” You were standing on top of her bed. Everything was in place for when your Ghostface arrived. You hopped down. She turned away from her computer.

“I know you’re not supposed to. I also know he can’t help himself.” You rolled your eyes.

“Soon. Within the hour,” you admitted. She left her computer open, to show that she was ambushed. You and Quinn were supposed to die tonight at the hands of Ghostface. After Sam and Tara left, he would sneak in and find you both, unsuspecting and oh so helpless. By the time the sisters returned home, you would both be dead, or close to it.

You glanced down at your phone which was still open to your texts with Ethan.

Can’t wait to stick something in you tonight ;)

You rolled your eyes, flushed, and turned off your phone.

Quinn helped you to make sure everything would look as realistic as possible. She explained, again, that they would blame Sam for all of this. Once she was dead and Richie’s death had been paid for, the two of you would be able to return to society as though Ghostface had held you captive.

You were too far in to back out now.

You heard the front door open. Quinn shut her blinds so that no one would see Ethan maskless. It had been a couple of weeks since the two of you had been alone (or alone with Quinn). He walked in through the front door, which Sam had left unlocked in her rush, and quickly made his way to Quinn’s room.

You met him halfway, throwing your arms around him. His laughter was muffled by the voice changer. You took his mask off of him, eager to get your lips on his. You couldn’t believe you were really doing this. You couldn’t believe your boyfriend was going to fake kill you.

He kissed you before you could get to it.

“Alright alright love birds,” Quinn grumbled. “Get in the closet Ethan, the girls are gonna be back soon.”

“Will you give us one sec?” Ethan questioned. Quinn looked like she wanted to argue but knew that an argument would just continue this further than she wanted to. You stood outside of her door, leaving it ajar. He looked around carefully to make sure no windows were in view. You were alone.

You took the mask from him. You felt it in your fingers. You hadn’t seen him in the outfit yet. You had seen Quinn and you had seen his dad but you hadn’t ever seen him in the full get up.

“You’re so scary,” you whispered, a buzz in your voice. “I would be terrified.”

“Are you scared?” He put the mask up to his face. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” You scrunched your nose, shaking your head.

“What’s that part in the first Stab?” You thought for a minute, pressing yourself up against him. He looked at you with adoration in his eyes. He had missed you desperately. You had grown up together and spending a long time apart was proving to be more difficult than he thought it would be. “Please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface. I wanna be in the sequel!”

He chuckled lowly and clutched your face, leaning over to kiss you. You let him, relishing in his lips. Who knew when he would slip away again to see you. You would be sentenced to hiding until all of this was over. He placed his other hand on your side, holding you in his grasp.

“Alright you two! Andele, andele!” Quinn opened up the door. He let you go. You grabbed the mask with both of your hands, rubbing it with your thumb. It was scary. It wouldn’t be hard to act the part.

“You ready to die?” he asked but his voice was so gentle it was almost comical. It was like he was checking in on you.

“Yes sir.”

You put the mask over his face and then he was no longer your boyfriend. He was Ghostface. You slipped into Quinn’s room and prepared for your end.

“Maybe I should’ve joined in on the killing,” you muttered, looking up at the ceiling. You were stuck in the Ghostface shrine that Richie had created. It was fun for a while, considering there was so much to look at, but there were only so many times the Stab movies were interesting to watch. Quinn came and went but mostly went. You weren’t sure where Wayne was keeping her otherwise.

The burner phone in your pocket buzzed. You quickly reached for it.

“Hello?”

“Lemme up.”

You knew that voice. You also knew he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near here until much later. This room wasn’t even supposed to be found yet. He hung up the phone. You walked to the elevator and pushed the button to lower it. It took a few minutes but you heard it come back after a while.

Ethan practically threw the gate open.

“What are you doing here?”

He threw his arms around you.

“Those people are really fucking annoying.” You scoffed. You were grateful for the company but not at the behest of his cover. “I missed you.”

“Does your dad know you’re here?”

“I’m supposed to be in a study group.”

“Skipping study group to see me? Tsk, tsk Ethan.”

“Shush.”

He dipped his head to kiss you. You put your hands on his cheeks. You melted into him. You tried to imagine what Quinn would’ve said if she was here. Probably some crude joke that all three of you knew to be true in the end.

You pulled away from him and kissed his jaw as you did so.

“Bet you’ve never made out in the Stab shrine before,” he questioned jokingly. You scoffed.

“Alright Ethan,” you scoffed. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t wanna talk about feelings,” he whined. “I have to be back soon.”

“You came all the way up here to have sex in front of all these dead peoples possessions?” He paused. He knew how that sounded. He also knew he had faked your death. He wasn’t super sure how to handle this one.

“Yes?”

You narrowed your eyes.

“I’m not gonna see you before the whole big thing. You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?”

“Pillowtalk,” he breathed. You pretended to think.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You sat up against the wall of the backrooms. You dragged him away from the prying eyes of all the killer memorabilia.

“Are you scared?” you questioned. He had his head resting in your lap. He had to leave soon, you both knew it.

“No,” he said quietly. “My dad will be there. He wouldn’t let us die when he’s with us.” You were brushing your fingers through his curls. You looked down at his big doe eyes, a faint smile on your face.

“I’m scared.”

“Don’t be.”

“You can’t stop me,” you promised. He rolled his eyes. He hummed pleasantly from your touch. “You’ll be safe, yeah?”

“I’m going to kill someone.”

“I know. I know.” You tried not to think of it. You couldn’t imagine his eyes going black, killing people without remorse. Even when he was rushing at you with the knife, you knew he was just Ethan. “I still want you to be safe.”

“I’ll be safe.”

“You have to go.” He groaned. You pushed him gently so he would get off of you. You would be stuck here. Maybe you would have another Stab marathon. You were beginning to like even the shitty ones. Stab 3 started to become an odd comfort. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah E. I promise.”

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagines #scream imagines #scream 6 spoilers #ghostface x reader #ghostface x fem!reader #ethan landry x fem!reader #scream spoilers #black balloons tag

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thinkingaboutjaedyn · 4 months

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five things about you [k.ohara x reader]

prompt: five things kelley does while you're pregnant that makes you fall more inlove with her.

author notes: i think this is finally the end of my writers block. i have so many requests in my inbox, and i swear i'll get to them eventually (sooner than later i hope). hope y'all enjoy this kelley fluff!

I. how she talks to your belly when she thinks you're sleeping

ever since you started to show a bit with a small belly bump kelley has been talking to it. the moment you drift off to sleep she places her hands gently on your belly and places a few soft kisses on the skin there. smiling as she quietly says whatever comes to mind.

"your momma ate lots of fruit today, i hope you liked them" she says. laughing when she remembers how you refused to eat anything but fruit the whole day. claiming that anything else would be too nasty, too bitter. you needed something sweet and only that. "she walked around a lot today too. couldn't sit down until i picked her up and put her on the couch. did that bother you? huh, baby?" kelley smiles, placing another kiss on your belly.

what kelley doesn't realize is that you are wide awake, just too tired from the day to open your eyes. ever since you gotten pregnant you have became a light sleeper (one of the worst things pregnancy have gifted you in your opinion). it takes everything in you to not smile and tangle your fingers in the brunette's hair. however instead of doing that, you just let kelley continue saying nonsense to your swollen belly. internally reminding yourself to tease her about this when you two's baby is born, but for now you let her indulge.

II. how she lifts up your belly every time you complain about the weight

kelley has been very in tune with any pains you had since you started to show symptoms of pregnancy. finding a way to help with every one or aleast a way to support you though it. when your feet started to swell, she would massage them or carry you wherever you wanted to go even if you complained about how you would be too heavy. same with when your back started to hurt, she massages it with such care that you swear she must have took some classes. weird cravings? don't worry she already is on her way to the store to buy them.

your all time favorite though is definitely when your wife takes it upon herself to relieve you of some of that belly bump weight.

"is this good enough for you, babes?" kelley says against your ear as her hands up under your belly. smiling as she lifts up your bump. placing a kiss on your cheek when you groan out in satisfaction. "very good. thank you, baby" you say. turning your head to give a kiss in appreciation. the brunette hums into the kiss, savoring the domesticity of the moment.

III. how she excited she gets when you two go baby shopping

the best part of your pregnancy is the shopping part. going into different shops as you look at various adorable baby clothes, toys, and strollers makes all the pain worth it. the mental gymnastics you jump though to justify some of your purchases are sorta insane, but it's not like kelley is complaining. far from it. if she could spend half of her day in the shops, looking at baby clothes, she would.

you two's hands are interlocking as y'all walk into a small boutique. d.c is littered with similar shops like these and you enjoy that fact very much. the shop is nicely decorated with baby blue, white, and a light yellow being the main colors. you let go of kelley's hand to go over to the clothes section and you assume kelley walks over to the toys section as you hear a baby rattle that your wife is most likely playing with right now.

"pink or purple..?" you mumble to yourself as your hands rest on some baby dresses. the little ruffles on the dresses making you wish the baby was here faster than your due date. your indecision doesn't last long as you feel the presence of someone besides you. before you can even turn to see who it is, their voice already tells you who it is.

"do you think our little girl is going to like dinosaurs or whales?" kelley says with a t-rex plushie in one arm and a humpback whale plushie in the other. both are absolutely adorable, but you find kelley the most adorable out of the three. "does it really matter? she can just like both, so get both" you say as you go back to back to looking at the dresses.

"but babeee, it does matter!" kelley half shouts, half whispers. "little kids usually fixate on just one thing and i don't wanna get her the one she wouldn't fixate on" she pouts at your lack of attention to the obviously very big problem at the moment. you giggle, turning towards her fully to look at the plushies again. "i don't think that's actually true but okay baby, whatever you say" you grab onto the whale plushie and pull it out of kelley's grasp. holding it up to eye level to really get a look at it.

"hm.. this one," you hand the plushie back to your wife. she smiles at you before frowning again, "but what if you're wrong?"

"why would i be wrong? i'm the one giving birth to the little rascal."

"for one, she's not a rascal and for two, you can still be wrong babe!"

"okay okay, just get both" you say. kelley just nods before walking off, probably back to the toys aisle.

now back to those dresses..

IV. how she always carries you at every opportunity like you weigh nothing

it didn't matter if you were in pain or not, kelley was always quick to pick you up bridal style. you always whine that "you're too heavy" but your wife doesn't really care.

it's another day where your back is killing you and your feet feel like they are water balloons just waiting to pop. you try to ignore the pain by laying down on the couch and drowning yourself in stupid rom-coms until kelley makes it back home.

that method only works for so long so when you hear the sound of the front door opening, you sit up and call out for kelley, "babe!"

"hm? what is it, baby?" she says as she walks into the living room. dropping her bag down near the end of the couch. she realizes what is the problem as she notices how you are still on the couch just like how you were two hours ago when you were on the phone with her. "baby hurting you?" kelley chuckles as you nod, coming around the couch to stand next to where you are sitting up at. taking a single finger to lightly tap on your stomach, "bad baby."

"don't be mean to my princess," you joke, giving kelley a light slap on her hand. she grabs onto your hand and gives it a kiss before placing a kiss on your baby bump. "sorry, little one. just wish you didn't cause your momma so much pain," she says as she lays her head against the bump.

you smile hearing her words. letting out a light yawn that makes kelley look up from your belly to you.

"tired?"

"mhm. been tired the entire day, but i didn't feel like walking up the stairs to bed.." you mumble. the obvious sleepiness in your voice makes kelley frown. she stands up before picking up without any warning. you yelp in surprise, slapping your wife gently on the shoulder. laughter flows from your lips as kelley starts to walk out of the living room. you don't start whining about how you weight too much until she reaches the stairs. "i'm way too big to be carried up a flight of stairs," you whine out. trying to get out of kelley's grasp, but she holds onto you tight enough that you can't wiggle out of her arms.

"never too heavy for me. if that ever happens i guess i just need to hit the gym more," the brunette laughs out. empathizing her point as she easily walks up the stairs with you in her arms. not faltering once.

she takes you right into you two's bedroom and lays you down on the bed. placing a kiss on your forehead before going over to the closet to grab one of her oversized shirts. throwing it to you as she walks back over to the bed. "too sleep in. want you to be all comfy," kelley lays down on the bed beside you. "thanks baby" you say as you change into the shirt, being too lazy to change out of your pajama shorts.

it takes only ten minutes for you to slip off to sleep after your head hits the pillow. of course you wake back up five minutes later, turning over to cuddle into kelley's side before drifting back off. she places soft kisses all your face as you drift off, admiring how peaceful you look.

V. how she proudly shows you off

kelley considers herself to be a pretty private person when it comes to relationships. you two's relationship wasn't even confirmed until you posted a photo of your engagement two years ago. however, she was happy to show off your pregnancy. posting a photo dump of you being adorable doing pregnant wifey things every couple months. she just finds you to be even more beautiful after getting pregnant. that baby glow was doing wonders for you.

it was the day of the baby shower alex and your sister helped to plan. kristie was also the one to help you pick out an aesthetic for the venue, but that was pretty much it.

you have cried about five times since the party started. once because seeing your family come out made you emotional, another two times because all of kelley's friends were sweethearts especially alex who is by your side for a majority of the event, one more time after seeing harper (sam bought along some of her aussie friends and katrina wouldn't miss the opportunity to come to a baby shower) running around with charlie which made you think of the baby that is ready to pop in your belly, and one last time because the vanilla cake was really good.

after eating, it was time to reveal the gender of the baby to you two's family and friends. kelley's arm is resting over your shoulder as you hold a white balloon in your hands.

"ready, baby?" she whispers to you. smiling once you nod.

"alright!" kelley says loudly to the mini crowd infront of you two. "one, two, three!" they count down. on three kelley pokes the balloon and it pops out pink confetti. lynn is the first to gasp out in celebration and pretty soon everyone follows after.

while everyone else is celebrating the reveal, kelley is pulling you into a hug. your arms go to wrap around her neck. tears threatening to fall from your eyes despite having already known the gender of the baby before the whole event. "i don't even know why i'm about to cry. we both already knew it was a babygirl," you say into kelley's shoulder. she pulls back a bit to look at her. wiping the tears that did manage to escape from your eyes. "it's okay. it's not just about the reveal, but having everyone here with us makes it so special. i almost cried but you know.. i would rather not being teased forever" she reassures you.

you two take a few more moments to talk before celebrating with the rest of your friends and family.

later on in the evening, long after the kiddos attending the party were put to sleep, all of the adults sit at the tables. kelley and you are back standing at the front of the venue where all the gifts are. a glass of wine sits nicely in your wife's hands with her other hand resting on your belly.

"okay firstly i would like to thank everyone for coming out, we loved seeing you all. secondly i want to thank the beautiful woman standing next to me right now.." the brunette smiles as you roll your eyes in mock annoyance. "i want to thank my beautiful wife, y/n, for being the perfect woman for me. who happily supports me with every venture i done and is always there for me. you're going to be a great mother once this little one pops. love you, baby" she says before pulling you into a short kiss.

you almost use your hand to shelter you two but decide against it. the damage is already done and you can already hear sam starting her teasing. emily of course has to jump in on it too.

looks like kelley isn't going to go tease-free today after all.

#kelley ohara x reader #kelley o'hara #uswnt x reader #uswnt #woso fanfics #woso x reader

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almacambiondaughterofsaleos · 5 months

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Octavia Is Sidelined So Much In Favor Of Stolitz

Despite being used as an example of how Stolas is really a good person and father, I do notice overtime her importance in the series has dwindled. Seriously, despite how the narrative wants us to think she is the treasured jewel of his life the execution would have you say that her father is more distracted by his boy toy due to how Vivziepoop has overemphasized the Stolitz ship.

Take for example is "Seeing Stars" where he neglects his daughter and breaks his promise to see the event he promised years ago, because he's so wrapped up in his divorce and even goes to insult her mother in front of her (even though he's said in the past he's tried to shield his daughter from the ugly parts of his and Stella's relationship). However, now that he's divorcing he doesn't hesitate to be as ugly with Stella as possible which shows how really good of a father he is. Also when she goes missing despite saying that Blitzo's dick isn't enough to quell Stolas's anger when it's his daughter is involved... well it actually goes like that, because both Blitzo and Stolas can't help but flirt and be flustered around each other this whole episode. Instead of focusing on his daughter, he again is on Blitzo's dick and even worse his daughter has to forgive him for neglecting her.

Most egregious one of the them is at the end of "Western Energy" where we have the emphasis on how this affects Stolas and Blitzo's relationships especially those texts talking about their fall about Ozzie's. However, we never get focus on how Octavia felt after her father fucking almost bit the dust, because in the next episode that Stolas is in he's okay and again you would think he would be injured a bit more to show how serious Striker is. But nope due to Vivziepoop remembering he's a powerful demon, he recovers in a day and we don't see Octavia at least be escorted to the hospital to see him because again Octavia is only there when she's a tool to make him look better and not her own character.

And now we get to the music video of "Just Look My Way" where Octavia's mentions in it are scrubbed in favor of Blitzo which again shows how the narrative is favoring his boy toy over his own fucking daughter who is supposed to be the center of his world and not this person he's given up so much for. Seriously, it's why if Octavia appears again I will not take the narrative seriously because we know that despite all claims that her father will get distracted from being a parent and ogle over Blitzo because he's a selfish pos and yet Octavia will be the one who has to learn to tolerate his bs because he's got the author's favoritism.

I really at the first thought that Stolas relationship with his daughter was sweet, but then I realize like so many else it really lost it's potential once you realize that Octavia is just a prop to artificially make it seem like Stolas is a good father when in actuality he's selfishly putting her needs above hers in a situation he caused. And it's a result of the fact that the writers are just using her as a writing tool and not a full character. She isn't needed until it affects Stolas and even then the Stolitz ship zaps everything around it so that any attention that Octavia is taken away. In a way, Octavia's fears were justified her father would run off and leave her because the writers are.

#helluva boss #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop #anti-vivziepop #octavia #anti-stolas #anti-stolitz #stolitz #stolas #pro-octavia #octavia goetia #stolas goetia #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical

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mangoshorthand · 1 year

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Love your fics so much good lord 🫶🏻 especially your latest smut one. Which made me remember how S3 had some kinda unnecessary sex jokes.. like when Klaus told Five about Lila and Diego doing it one the stairs and Five said yeah I get it everybody was banging everybody last night 😭 kinda had to imagine Five and his wife drinking and spending the night together as well and getting the love he deserves. Not sure if its a smut request you’re interested in but i loved the wedding episode.

Awh- thanks. You're a sweetie! ❤️ I stuck a little twist on this one- I hope that's ok! I have a quirk as an author in that I don't like to explicitly contradict canon plus I would like Five to be physically 18+ canonically when I write about him. We have fluff and mild, romantic smut. Schmaltzier than I'd usually produce, but we all need a little schmaltz now and again.

If Tonight Was Our Last | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 2.4k words, Rated M

All in all, Diego and Lila’s wedding had been like them: informal, loud and chaotic. The ceremony part was executed in the courthouse as quick as humanly possible in order to get to the important part: dancing and partying in the punk nightclub they’d hired for the evening.

Five hovered awkwardly by the bar. He was wearing what, on reflection, was an entirely inappropriate tuxedo and was becoming uncomfortably sweaty. He watched the crowd dancing to The Sex Pistols, Lila jumping and headbanging with a crazed look in her eye and Diego drinking shot after shot with Luther. He himself ordered a martini and was stirring it with his olive awkwardly, wondering when he could justify leaving.

There was a joy in being part of this family that Five didn’t always appreciate: it presented him countless opportunities to exercise his brain with a conundrum. He knew that spending over forty years in the apocalypse was preferable to both, but whether Lila and Diego's wedding was worse than Luther and Sloane’s, he couldn’t yet decide.

But when his eyes found you, screaming along with Johnny Rotten about how the queen of England wasn’t a human being, he knew that this sweaty, musty club was the only place in the world he’d choose to be right now. You caught his eye, face lighting up and worked your way across the dancefloor towards him. On the way, you stole a tequila slammer off the tray beside Luther and presented it to Five.

Before you pulled him onto the dancefloor with you, he knocked back the shot and chased it with his remaining half martini. Perhaps it was the booze or maybe your hyperactive vibes were infectious, because Five let loose and spent the rest of the night dancing along with The Clash. He got bashed and buffeted by the crowd and his siblings. Since then, Five had drunk heavily. Even if he had a slow start, he more than caught up with the rest of you.

He kissed you several times throughout the evening, when his adrenaline was high and the music pumped with it through his veins. The kisses were hard, boisterous and joy-filled. Once, he lifted you off your feet with the force of it, earning him a small shove from Diego for ‘lowering the tone of the evening’.

Viktor, the only one of you who stayed sober enough to be responsible, had shepherded first Lila and Diego to their hotel room, and then everyone else back to the Academy. He left you and Five still drinking in one of the lesser-used sitting rooms that was occupied by Reginald in years gone by.

A large order of fries and the journey home had sobered you up, but Five’s hand swayed as he tried to pour a glass of his father’s cognac, spilling it all over the side table.

“Ah shit. That was Hennesy,” he murmured, regretfully, wiping it up with a bar towel. He’d already discarded his jacket and now his hand fumbled at his bow tie, removing it and tucking into his pants pocket.

“You shouldn’t have any more,” you said, from the armchair. Your voice was slightly hoarse from having to shout to be heard all night, “you’ve been drinking like it’s your last night on earth.”

Five returned to the handsome chaise lounge with the little drink he’d managed to successfully pour, laughing softly.

“No I haven’t. That was the last wedding I went to.”

“Luther and Sloane’s?” you asked, tentatively.

Five nodded.

He didn’t like to talk about it often. The period following his return to 2019 was a chaotic tumble through timelines and apocalypses. You knew Luther and Sloane got married under the impression that they would all die the next day, but you hadn’t ever asked Five for details. Tonight, however, he seemed open to it.

“When you got twenty-four to forty-eight hours left to live,” he said, laughing reminiscently, “there’s no point in holding back.

I sorta remember making this…punch out of vodka, gin, coconut rum and god knows what else. I drank the whole bowl," he laughed, "Well, wouldn’t you? ” he asked, catching your disapproving eye.

You rocked your head from side to side, weighing it up.

“Probably,” you admitted, “I just don’t like to think about it. As it turned out, you all survived anyway. But that would have been no good if you died from alcohol poisoning.”

He took your hand in the gap between the two pieces of furniture.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t, but right then it seemed like a good option.”

You caught his eyes, deep tonight, and saw that he wasn’t as drunk as you thought. His lips twitched into a sad smile as he continued.

“I guess I had nothing else to do. They were all pairing off: Luther and Sloane, Lila and Diego, Klaus and alternate Ben-” he caught your expression and amended himself, “-I don’t mean boning, necessarily…” and then he looked nauseated, “oh god, I really hope not, anyway.”

“You’re a weird family,” you said, matter-of-factly.

“That we are.” he agreed, “At least four of them were going at it, anyway, and there I was trapped in the body of an extra from Bugsy Malone: hormonal, horny as hell and living the last few hours of my life. What is a self-respecting guy supposed to do?”

“Drink and jerk off?”

“Drink and jerk off, correct. You know me so well.”

You smiled, leaned over and poured yourself a small cognac.

“Sounds lonely for your last night on earth.”

He shrugged, reciprocating your raised glass to him before you took a sip. The honey-smelling warmth of the cognac went down nice and easy, even after the tequila and fries.

Five looked into his drink.

“What would you do?” he said, almost too quietly to hear, “on your last night on earth, I mean.”

You don’t hesitate, “I’d spend it with you.”

He smiled down into his glass. It’s one of his arrogant smiles masking the real emotion beneath.

“Of course you would.”

You could always tell when he was hiding emotion by the spots of delicate color he developed high in his cheeks.

“And what about you?” you asked, gently.

He considered, the smile still playing around his lips.

“I’d probably drink and jerk off.”

You laughed and stretched out in the chair, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of being there with him. After a quiet minute, his voice sounded again.

smut below cut

“I’d make love to you.”

You turned your head to look at him, still starting into his drink. It’s not a term you’d ever heard him use before. In day-to-day conversation, he referred to sex as ‘boning’, ‘banging’ or occasionally used a trite metaphor like ‘making the beast with two backs.’ Even in the throes of passion, you’d only ever heard him say that he wanted to ‘fuck’ you.

He looked at you, eyes speaking a depth of feeling you hoped you would never be able to fully share. The look in his eyes brought home the weight of what he was saying: Five knew what it was to face the end of everything. He was saying this with that experience behind him.

“If tonight was our last, I’d want you to know what you mean to me…except words can be blunt instruments, so I’d want to show you…”

He trailed off.

You put down your drink and, drawn like a magnet to his bared vulnerability, joined him on the couch. Eyes not leaving this, you raised your hand to cup his face. As he closed his eyes, you kissed him on the corner of his mouth, hoping that the touch of your lips against him conveyed what you were feeling.

With his eyes still closed, he leaned into your touch almost wearily, rubbing his cheek against your hand and letting out a long breath through his nose.

“Show me now,” you whispered, “as if tonight was our last night.”

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, and he fixed you with his unwavering gaze. Though the room was dimly lit, what little light there was reflected in his eyes. Without another word, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to yours in a soft, tender kiss. His warm lips brushed yours, feather-light. You responded to him eagerly, meeting his affection with your own and wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

He deepened the kiss, hands beginning to roam. He caressed you, palms exploring the contours of your body; the landscape of hills and valleys. Though he’d done this countless times before, his touch felt somehow new: sending trembling, fluttering energy across your body. His breath was sweet, tasting of the cognac: you felt and savored the warmth of his mouth on yours

As the kiss reached its peak, you felt a rush of emotion you hadn’t expected: though he was gentle, cherishing and loving, you could nevertheless feel a flavor of desperation behind this kiss. It was as if this really was it; as if tonight really was the last night. He was right: words weren’t enough, and this was the most important thing you and he would ever say to each other.

His fingers became more urgent, slipping beneath your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin beneath. You raised your arms and he lifted it carefully over your head, unable to resist leaning in and peppering your newly exposed skin with kisses before he fully removed it.

Meanwhile, one of your hands popped open the buttons of his shirt while the other traced the lines of his chest and pectorals. When his stomach was revealed, you pulled the fabric apart and snaked both hands in, reveling in his warmth and the soft smattering of hair disappearing into his pants.

Your hands moved in unison, undressing each other with sensual eagerness: not too fast, not too slow, only keen to feel each new inch of flesh as it was exposed. As he reached around to unhook your bra, you worked on freeing him from his pants. You could already feel the arousal beneath.

Before you could remove the fabric around him, he leaned in and captured your newly bared nipple, gently licking and sucking on it. You couldn’t help but moan, even despite the necessity of keeping your voice low. His hand came to rub and softly press your other breast, feeling your shape in the palm of his hand.

At last, you pulled him from his pants, stroking his shaft gently and feeling him grow even harder at your touch. His breath stuttered around your breast.

At last, you sat beside each other naked. His kisses felt like moths’ wings across your breasts, your collarbone, your neck. He leaned towards you, urging you gently backwards until your back hit the velvet of the chaise. You pulled him to you and kissed him again, caressing his lips with your own. When he pulled back, you were surprised to see tears pricking the corner of his eyes.

When he spoke, looking at you with those earnest, sad eyes, it was in a whisper. You had the sense that he didn’t trust his voice any louder.

“If tonight were our last night, I’d want to kiss you like that.”

You stroked his face again and he briefly closed his eyes, one of the tears forming into a drop and running slowly down his cheek. When he opened them, he shifted his kneeling position and you spread your thighs to accommodate him.

“What else would you do?” you asked, your own voice not much more than a whisper.

He lowered himself so that your bodies were pressed together, skin on skin and warmth on warmth.

“I’d want you like this,” he said, “I’d want to be inside you.”

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him gently to you and entwining your body with his. He entered you slowly and you let out identical exhales. It was a feeling like coming home after a long day. Five gave a pleasurable wince as the clenching of your walls had its effect on him: perfect intensity.

As he moved in you, as you moved together, every caress was a whispered affirmation of love; every twinge of pleasure a promise kept. Each of his slow, sensual thrusts was a pledge of undying devotion. The slow build of your orgasm was a life of love and loyalty spent together.

He buried his head in your neck, simultaneously breathing you in and hiding his tears. Your arms wrapped themselves over his back, your hand finding the back of his head and holding him safely to you as, inside you, the twin heats of love and of pleasure bloomed.

“I’ve got you, baby.” you whispered, inhaling the clean smell of his hair.

With your arms and legs wrapped around him this way, you met his hips with your own, giving him the same promises he gave to you. You kissed his temple, wrapping yourself around him more snugly. Wrapped in the warmth of your shared love, your bodies writhed together. From his stuttering breath and increasing tension, you could tell he was nearing his peak. You could feel his heart beating against your chest like that of a small animal.

He gave an ecstatic cry and exploded inside you, body shuddering in the current of his release. As he came, he kissed and licked at your neck, unrefined and uncontrolled but desperate to taste some part of you. Finally, he collapsed onto the couch, his full weight upon you, trying to catch his breath in short gasps.

“If tonight was our last night,” he mumbled, after a few moments to compose himself, “I’d want to savor it. I'd hope not to come after two minutes like that.”

You smiled into his hair.

“Lucky tonight isn’t our last night,” you said.

Responding to the pang of shame in his voice, however, you continued more seriously.

“If tonight was our last night, I’d die happy after that. No, really,” you said, responding to his disbelieving snort, “that was…”

You didn’t need to finish. The awe and love in your tone was enough of a balm.

You could lie here forever with his warm weight on top of you, your bodies still connected with him still inside you. You could be happy here, with his breath in your ear and your hand in his hair. If tonight was your last night, you would have lived a whole lifetime in it.

Request Masterlist >> HERE

NOTE: I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy five #umbrella academy number five #umbrella academy five x reader #umbrella academy five x you #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #number 5 imagine #number 5 x reader #number five x you #five hargreeves x f reader

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mouschiwrites · 6 months

Note

HEY POOKS! I'm back with a cool idea😋

Basically hcs where the ninja have to train the reader(who is younger then them) because Wu told them too. At first neither of them want to train together and make the training sessions difficult for each other but over time the ninja see themselves in the reader which was apart of wu's plan. So overtime they develop a sibling bond and everyone rubs in their faces on how similar they are even when they used to hate each other.

SILLY REQUEST BUT HOPEFULLY THAT MADE SENSE! ANYWAYS BYE POOKIE REMEMBER TO TAKE RESTS AND DRINK WATER🤍💛🤍👻👻

YIPPEE you’re back with another banger!!!

Me when you call me pookie,, teehee

Ninjago - Unintentionally Becoming the Ninjas’ Little Sibling

Zane

Zane doesn’t always hate kids, but he certainly didn’t like you at first

He saw you as disorganized and disruptive

Your fighting style was no better

He begrudgingly took it upon himself to help shape you up, not just as a fighter, but as a person

Your attitude towards him was not helping his exasperation at all

But he’s perseverant

Eventually you start to come around to his lessons, finding that being organized is pretty convenient at times

You secretly started to organize your room

You absolutely did NOT want him to know that though

One time he walked in on you sorting your comics by franchise, and you legitimately flipped your table

“Y/n! Why did you do that? Look at the mess you’ve made.”

“I-I don’t care about messes!! No… I… I like my room like this…”

He insisted on helping you clean up, at which point he noticed that the comics, which had somehow maintained their separate groups after falling to the floor, were sorted

He doesn’t point it out, but he feels some pride in you

He helps you reorganize the comics wordlessly

Sitting there, just sorting through comics in silence, the tension between you two melted

Once Zane realized that his teachings were getting through to you, he stops being so harsh

He offers to help you organize things, and he’s thrilled if you return the favor

From there he’ll start teaching you to cook and do chores too

That’s when the others start to notice

They call you the Rumba because you’re a little housekeeping helper

Zane finds the name especially comedic because a Rumba is also a robot

Though their teasing makes you all huffy, you wouldn’t go back to your old ways just to stop it

You like the time you spend with Zane too much

Besides doing chores, you guys also like to watch documentaries together

You’re both one of those “did you know (weirdly specific fact)” people

You like to quiz each other on your niche hobbies and interests

You’re both definitely one of those weirdly knowledgeable people that seem to have a fun fact for every scenario

You’ll build off of each others’ fun facts as well

“Did you guys know that monarch butterflies are actually incredibly poisonous?”

“That’s correct. That’s why the viceroy butterfly has evolved to look similar; predators will assume they’re monarchs, and thus elect not to eat them.”

This becomes more annoying for the others as time goes on

Kai

He was determined to “tame” you from the very beginning

When Wu tasked him with training you, he convinced himself that you were a real piece of work

This led to a less than ideal attitude towards you, regardless of whether you were actually a problem child or not

He assumes this air of authority, using his age and experience as excuses to boss you around

That’s where your problem with him arises

And when you start to show how much you hate him, he only feels more justified in his treatment

It’s only when he starts to notice your hot-headedness that he reflects on his treatment of you

He sees himself in you, which makes him question if that’s how he would want to be treated

No, he decides, this is not how he would want to be treated were he in your position

So he approaches you one day when you’re all alone, watching the sunset

“Here to boss me around some more?”

“No, I want to apologize. I shouldn’t be treating you like this. It’s just not helpful, to you or me. I’m going to try to be better.”

His genuineness strikes you

You accept the apology warily

Frankly you’re worried about how he plans to change his treatment of you

You’re pleasantly surprised to find that he’s actually a pretty cool guy once he drops the dictator act

He shows you fun fighting moves, even lets you win every now and again when you spar

And he invites you to do more leisurely activities too

It’s a welcome change from the endless stream of chores he used to give you

He still gives you work to do though (mostly things he doesn’t want to do himself)

Your lingering hot-headedness shines through when this happens

“Why do I have to do it? It’s not fair!”

“Because I said so. Now shoo.”

The others start to tease that you’re just like him

Kai doesn’t mind this at all

If anything, he’s proud to have a mini version of himself

He loves doing stuff with you; your determination makes you a great buddy to be all competitive with

You guys LOVE to compete; video games, chores, training, anything

Cole

You get on Cole’s bad side by being stubborn

Cole’s a pretty chill guy who likes to go with the flow, so if you make him put his foot down, he’s not going to like you

So, when you demonstrate the classic huffiness of a child, he gets pretty impatient

He won’t push hard when it comes to enforcing his authority

He’ll just leave

This makes you feel like he doesn’t care about you, which only exacerbates your bad attitude

It becomes a vicious cycle of hate on both ends

It’s only when you realize that you are being a little bratty that you decide to try and tone it down

This takes him by surprise

“…99, and 100! Okay, all done with warm-ups. What next?”

“Wh— no complaining? Huh. Um, okay, let’s practice your high kicks.”

“You’re the boss.”

He starts to actually enjoy training with you once you’re not arguing all the time

This shows you that he really does care about your progress

The negative cycle therefore becomes a positive one

Cole loves to praise you when you’ve done a good job

He’s very proud of you

When you get used to going with what he says, you’re adopting some of his laid-back attitude

That’s where the others perceive similarities

But they don’t end there

Cole likes to invite you to hang out with him after training, and through your hang out sessions you start to pick up on some of his mannerisms

Like eating the cream out of the Oreo before you eat the cookie

Or leaving the TV on while you take a nap

The teasing gets amped up when the others notice these mirrored habits

Neither of you really care, though

You just like that you have a good relationship now :)

Jay

Jay thought you were a total brat

All it took was one bad experience; he’s volatile like that

He sees you in a bad light once and your reputation is ruined

A bad comment, telling him no once, a dirty look, anything small like that

He’s super cold to you when training, dishing out orders like Gordon Ramsay and glaring at you just as intensely

You feel like you can never satisfy him

As the work he gives you piles up daily, you can’t help but shoot a glare back

Your relationship is fixed in the same way it was ruined: with a single moment

You were watching TV, appreciating a rare break

Your favorite character was on screen, and you couldn’t help but smile and sigh

“Man, I wish you were my friend. Then everything would be okay. You’re just so cool.”

“Isn’t he?!”

You whirled around with wild eyes

Jay was diving to sit down next to you, his eyes sparkling at the screen

He was overjoyed to find out that you liked the show; it was super niche, and none of the other ninjas had even heard of it

You listened as he gushed about the show, a little disturbed by his complete flip of attitude

Eventually you couldn’t help joining his fangirling

You spent literal hours talking

Kai dropped in at one point to make a comment about you two being secret siblings, which you both shrugged off

After that day you were pretty much inseparable

You both proved to be total chatterboxes in each others’ presence

The others find this amusing in the sense that Jay has finally found an equal, but annoying in the sense that you guys literally never stop talking

The only time you shut your mouths is when you’re watching your shows

Even when training, you keep feedback flowing between you

“Nice kick! Try lower next time, though.”

“Thanks! Oof, that hurt…”

Nya

When you start to get frustrated/demotivated with your training, Nya does the same

She finds you “impossible to work with”

So she’ll dump you with someone else, making you feel like garbage to be tossed around

Wu has to remind her that she was the same when she started her ninja training

She’s in denial at first, but when she sees you hunched over in anger, she remembers being in that exact position

With newfound empathy she goes over to you

“Hey… you know, I wasn’t much better when I started my training.”

“I doubt it. I’m just the worst. I’ll never be a ninja.”

She was shocked to find your attitude so similar to her old attitude

From there she had a better idea of how to help you

You were surprised to find her so understanding

You came around to her as you realized she really did know how you were feeling

You put your trust in her, becoming a little more laid-back and letting her guide you

In other words, you adopted her “go with the flow” mindset

Wu was the first to point out your similarities

You both just looked at each other and smiled

You knew you were similar; that’s why you got along

Nya decides to teach you things beyond ninja training, like mechanics

You become quite skilled under her guidance

The others notice that she’s essentially created a smaller version of herself

She protests that you’re your own person, but she can’t deny that you are basically just mini-Nya

Lloyd

Lloyd gets annoyed if you don’t make progress quickly

His training was very fast and intense, so if you can’t keep up, he gets impatient

He’ll just keep pushing harder and harder

He doesn’t realize that not everyone has a prophecy to live up to, and thus probably isn’t motivated in the same way

He can’t find a way to appeal to your motivation, which leaves you feeling like training is just a waste of time

Lloyd finds this attitude incredibly disrespectful

You guys make so many passive aggressive remarks

“Are you already tired?”

“Well, you did kinda just make me, the kid, do 100 push ups.”

It’s when you finally snap that he realizes he’s been doing it wrong

You explode during training one day, storming off while grumbling furiously

Lloyd just stands there, stunned

At that point he finally recognizes that you’re not just a little version of himself, and he needs to get to know you to understand how to help you

So he appeals to you first, remembering the things he used to like as a kid

He gets you into Starfarer, and you guys bond over your love of it

He learns bits and pieces about you when you hang out, and eventually devises a plan to get you back on track

You take to training much better the second time around, making impressive progress

You aren’t cocky about it though; you’ve picked up Lloyd’s humble attitude

The others reminisce about when Lloyd was in your position and they were the trainers

“They’re kinda like you, Lloyd.”

“You think? I guess they are. I remember when you’d train me like this, Kai.”

He takes pride in knowing he’s facilitated your growth

He’s almost as proud to say he’s created another Starfarer fan

You guys still love to gush over the comics together :)

Sorry this was kind of a long read ^^” but thanks for reading! And thank you lovely anon for your request!!

(divider by saradika)

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #ninjago headcanons #zane julien #ninjago zane #kai smith #kai ninjago #nya smith #nya ninjago #cole brookstone #cole ninjago #jay walker #jay ninjago #lloyd garmadon #lloyd ninjago

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am-i-interrupting · 21 days

Note

Okay I don’t know if you are accepting requests or suggestions but can I ask for a one shot or something of like what happens between Vox and reader from the one author, two host series when alastor returns. Like what would happen and I feel like Vox would be FOMING at the mouth from anger because he knows how much pain it caused reader and all doesn’t even tell them where he was

Went Away | OATSH

Vox had long since regretted saving Valentino’s pathetic little soul. He could have and should have found someone else to be the head of the porn industry. Unfortunately, with the deal they’d made, Vox couldn’t harm the man unless he broke the confines of their contract. Valentino toed the line, most certainly, but he hadn’t yet broken it.

Velvette was complaining about one of her models being scared shitless by Valentino and having some of her work torn up but no harm had actually come to any of them. That was always the thing, always the line he just barely stayed in.

He couldn’t hurt anyone without justifiable cause. That is what was in his contract. He could scare, he could manipulate, he could yell, but he couldn’t hurt.

Vox walked into Valentino’s office.

“Fucking finally!” the man yelled. “Kitty, another drink! Can you believe what that piece of shit did?! The ungrateful whore!”

Vox side stepped the glass that had been thrown his way. “Which whore are we talking about this time?”

“Fucking Angel Dust, who the hell else would I be talking about?”

Vox leaned away from Valentino as the man breached his space. Many answers to that question raced into his mind. Too many sex workers, too many models, too many people on the street, himself, once you. Only once had Valentino called you a whore. Never again.

“That fucking slut walked out on me. Me. I made him! Without me he’s just a bag of meat with some mildly entertaining holes.”

Vox had gotten out his phone while Valentino went on his rampage. He felt himself relax just a bit, a small smile coming to his lips as he saw a message from you.

Sorry about leaving early this morning. Star called. Stuff came up. Fixing some roofing. Hate this time of year.

His soft smile though changed from soft to hopeful.

“Angel Dust quit?” he asked.

He was hoping for a yes. You’d be so ecstatic if he finally was able to quit. That was another reason for him to hate the fact that he saved Valentino; the fact that Valentino had a contract neither of you knew about beforehand and under Angel’s contract, he could do whatever he wanted and it would be seen as justifiable.

“No, he didn’t fucking quit. It’s worse.” Valentino grabbed Vox’s phone from his hand and threw it against the wall. “He moved!”

Vox hadn’t even been able to text you back.

“He thinks he can just walk in here, work, and then go home somewhere else? Can you fucking believe that? He thinks he can just run off and shack up with Lucifer’s bimbo daughter.”

“Angel is living with Lucifer’s daughter now?”

You’d be happy to know about that at least.

“Yeah, that bitch. Chalky or Chandler or something manish like that,” he said as he opened up his closet. “She’s got this hotel and— which of these makes me look sexier?”

Anyone else. He would have let the man go in a rampage, break their contract, and discard him if it was anyone but her. Had it been anyone else other than Lucifer’s daughter, Vox would have let him.

“What are you doing, Val?” he asked, venom entering his voice before his eye began to spiral. “You’re not going over there.”

“That slippery twink is going to remember who owns him. I’m going to fuck everyone in that rancid hotel, I swear to god,” Valentino continued, ignoring him.

Vox scowled to himself before he grabbed Valentino’s wings and pulled him close, his face brightening so the man could actually see him.

“Val!” He laughed before he smoothed his wings back into their coat-like shape. “Think about it. My brand is perfection. What do you think chasing whores around town would do for my image?” He grabbed the gun from Valentino’s hand.

“Uh, fuck it up?”

Vox played a game show ringing as he said, “Right! Do you want people thinking I can’t control my employees and that you can’t control yours?”

“No.”

“Exactly! And, hey—“ Vox knew you would hate what he said next— “you still have him under contract. He’s not going anywhere. So, you should. . .?”

“Do nothing?”

“Great idea!” Vox pulled Valentino down into to put his arm around his shoulders as more game show sound effects played. “Now that’s why I pay you the big bucks.”

“But I really wanted to shoot someone,” Valentino said as he pulled out his cigarette. “You never let me have any fun anymore.”

Vox lit the cigarette with the tip of his claw. “Well, let me pull out my wife’s hit list. Let you have a go at some of them, hmm?”

“Aw,” Valentino said with a chuckle, “you know me too well.”

Of course Vox did. He had to. The man was practically a child most days. He constantly questioned how he could have been so stupid as to have let him live. Regardless, it was a choice he now had to live his second life with.

He twisted his wedding ring with his thumb as he summoned a new phone.

Don’t worry about it. Turf wars are always a hassle. I get it and know by now you’re always busy this time of year. We all are. When you get a sec, can you send me some people on your list? Valentino’s being a piss baby again, as Vel so eloquently put it.

“You know, Angel isn’t the only one spending time at this ratty hotel with the devil’s princesa,” Valentino said after taking a draw of his cigarette.

When is he not?

“Oh, who else is there?” Vox asked as he opened the document you’d sent him. “Someone who owes you money?”

Valentino laughed once again. “Someone who owes us much more than money. The Radio Demon is there.”

Vox collapsed on himself as he tensed. His claws dug through the metal of the desk, breaking his phone as he did so. His entire body sparked with electricity.

“What did you just say?” he asked, his voice coming out distorted as he turned to Valentino, his eye spiraling as red pixels began spilling from his mouth.

“You heard me.”

Oh, he was going to kill Valentino, contract be damned.

“Alastor, my wife’s father—“ he glitched— “is back and he is with Lucifer’s daughter instead of his own—“ he glitched again— “and that wasn’t the first fucking thing you told me?!” he pulled Valentino down to his height as sparks flew off his body and his voice raised to a yell.

“Hey, Alastor missing is your problem,” Valentino said as he walked to the computer desk and pressed a button.

A distorted feed came up on the screen. Vox immediately teleported to the desk, leaning as close as he could to make out every detail of the scene.

He could make out the blonde hair of Lucifer’s daughter, the white fur of Angel Dust, and the extra distorted figure that Vox knew from previous videotapes to be Alastor.

He snarled, a full growl come from his mouth. His claws dug all the way through the desk. His breathing started to quicken.

Vaguely, in his subconscious mind, he registered an anger at a different thing. Alastor was torturing someone and he hadn’t told you? He hadn’t invited you? He always had before.

He didn’t even register Valentino’s words. He didn’t find any amusement in the squeaks that came from the man like he normally would. All he could focus on was Alastor walking away from the hotel.

“Vox? Vox!” Valentino called out, finally breaking him from his trance.

“That fucker is back!”

“Yeah, I thought he was gone for good tooAfter seven years!”

“You still pissed he almost beat you that time?” Valentino grabbed the corner of Vox’s screen. Vox pushed him off, still sparking. “Ow!”

“Fuck off!”

Vox’s breath started coming out harshly as he began to spiral.

How was he going to tell you? How dare Alastor? Oh, sure, Vox was the problem. He was trying to steal you from Alastor when it was Alastor who left you for seven years without a word, not even telling you goodbye or where he was going or when he came back.

He hadn’t been there. Did he not know what pain he caused you? The worry, the tears, the depression. You had been a mess those first couple months. Did he not think you would be effected by his sudden disappearance? Was he really, truly that stupid?

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re really this peeved?” Valentino said.

Vox ignored him as he walked out of the room to his own office.

Valentino pouted as he watched the door close. Then he went to pick up Vox’s phone to look at that list only to see the screen cracked and back scratched.

“Fuuuck!” he said as he threw his head back. He picked up his gun that had been left behind as well and shot a hole through the wall.

Vox pulled up your vitals on his screen. You knew he had them. He monitored them as well as your location through the ring on your finger and you had access to his own through the same.

There was a stark difference in how often the two of you looked at them though. Yours got pulled up multiple times a day while his only got pulled up a few times every couple months.

That was alright though. You knew he could be possessive but more than that, you knew how often he worried.

He quickly found and quickly sent a dispatch of construction workers that way before he went there himself.

You didn’t even flinch when he knelt behind you and draped himself over his back. After so many decades, it’d become second nature to know when the other was around. What did concern you was how tightly he held you.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, voice ever so slightly distorted with some filter. “Alone.”

You turned, unafraid of falling off the roof in his grasp. You held his screen between your hands. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t even have time to blink before you were in the tower with him.

“You said that Hustler came to see you the other day, right?”

“Husk, but yes,” you said. “Is everything okay? Is he alright?”

“Did you ask him why?” Vox asked.

“I— Yes, it was that advertisement. I didn’t have time to look it over. I just gave it to your assistant,” you told him. “He didn’t give me porn or something, did he? That doesn’t sound like him but he said he lost a game, had to be the one to bring it to me.”

“So you didn’t watch the commercial? Neither did I. How about we watch it together, hm?”

“Okay,” you said, the word coming out slowly, hesitantly.

You didn’t sit as he didn’t either. The television just came on.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” a woman you vaguely recognized said.

She had white hair done in Hollywood waves that contrasted her grey skin. She wore dress that was somewhat reminiscent of a 50s dress and a large hat with floral elements. Across thAngel Dust in a pink and white suit, wearing pink gloves that he used to blow a kiss to the camera. In front of him was Niffty in a classic flapper dress. Then Husk drinking beside her.

None of that is what caught your attention however. What did was the distorted person beside Husk, back turned to the camera but you recognized him.

Immediately your eyes widened as your nose and eyes began to sting. You bit your lip to contain a scream as your breath began to quicken.

You had mourned him.

You mourned him! You’d done it once in life and now once in death and for what?! Why did you have to mourn him when he was right there?! He was there!

You took off your shoe and threw it at the television. Then did the same with the other. The screen broke, cracked. The TV fell to the floor.

“That bastard!” you yelled. “Fucking shit ass!”

You screamed so loud that is caused Vox to wince but still he wrapped his arms around you. You collapsed against him and banged on his chest. Not enough to hurt him but enough to get out your frustration. He just pulled you closer.

Vark stood in the doorway, looking at Vox. His tail was drooped and he was hunched down. Vox slowly lowered you both to the ground and gestured for Vark to come.

He did. He butted his head against your back. He kept his head against your skin as he moved between the two of you. On instinct, you put your hand between Vark’s eyes and Vox put his right at the base of his spines. Vark moved and licked your face. You didn’t smile like you normally would.

“What do you want me to do?” Vox asked.

You stayed silent for a moment, hand moving back and forth on Vox’s simultaneously rough and smooth skin. Then, “Make him wish he’d stayed gone.”

You stood and went to your wardrobe. Vox followed as you threw a more official outfit on the bed. Then you went to the bathroom and fixed your makeup or rather, tried to. Your hands shook to much for you to do it properly.

Vox picked up your phone and sent a message to Velvette.

Get your ass here now. -V

He didn’t know how to apply makeup but after years of living with two people who did, he at least learned how to take it off.

When Velvette arrived, it was no secret. “What the hell happened here? What the fuck’s going on?”

“The Radio Demon’s back,” Vox said.

“Oh, well, shit,” she said. “Alright then, move aside, Voxy. I’m gonna give our gal some revenge makeup and you go make a script for you stupid show.”

“Top of the hour,” Vox said as he spun in his chair to face the camera, “and we’re discussing a certain hazbin who has been spotted cavorting around town after a seven year absence. Did anybody miss him? Did anybody notice? More on tonight’s program!”

The headline read, “Dud Dad Back From Getting Milk”

Across the screen, “So the radio guy’s back. I don’t think you noticed. I didn’t at first- I was too busy being present in my wife’s life but fuck it, news is slow today, I guess. I just want to go home to see my beautiful wife and tell her about where I’ve been even though she knows where I am because I tell her about my plans before fucking off.”

“Fucking hell!” Husk yelled, catching the attention of everyone in the hotel.

“Aw, after so many years I can still startle you? How cute,” you said as you leaned your head on your hand with a smirk that immediately made him uneasy.

You were wearing a black cropped turtle neck with a pair of slightly baggy jeans, an oversized jacket that clearly was not yours with its light and dark blue stripes and pinkish-red interior. Your legs were crossed and revealed your heeled black boots. Your hair was down in loose, natural curls but your makeup was anything but with a dark smokey eye and dark nude lipstick.

“Oh, he fucked up,” Husk said as he grabbed a bottle and moved out from behind the bar.

“Um, okay,” the princess said. “Hi, I’m Charlie and you are?”

“Not here for you,” you said as you moved to take Husk’s place behind the bar.

“And who are you here for?” Charlie asked.

The television flickering on gave you no reason to answer her. Instead you mixed a cocktail as all eyes turned to the TV screen.

“So, the Radio Demon is back in town,” Vox said on the screen. “Why’s he hanging around? What does that mean for your family? Well, handily I’ve got good news. The guy’s a loser, an absent and I don’t mean to sound arrogant but he’s a really shitty parent. That one’s real apparent.

“He used to go on and on about how I’d be the one gone yet he’s the one who said so long. I’m right here, never fear. I plan on staying even when raining. I’m not afraid of things changing. So if you can’t update, maybe relocate. Go on a va-cay and stay the fuck away.

“He clung onto radio, we pivoted to video. Now his medium has gotten bloody rare. We’ve been better since he split. Where’s he been? Who gives a shit!”

The radio crackled to life. “Salutations, good to be back on the air.”

You took a long sip of your cocktail as you heard his voice for the first time in seven years. The glass nearly cracked in your hands.

“Yes, I know it’s been a while since someone with style has treated Hell to a broadcast. Sinners, rejoice!”

“What a dated voice.”

“Instead of a clout-chasin' mediocre video podcast.”

“Come on!”

“Is Vox insecure? Pursuing allure. Going for small blows towards the pros, is it really working?”

“It’s better than your chirping!”

“Every day, he's got a new insult while still thinking everything wrong is his fault.”

“You’re looking at the one who stayed! He’s the one who went away!”

“Is Vox as strong as he purports or is it based on his support? He'd be powerless without that pretty ring.”

“Oh, tell us a new thing!”

“Fine, let’s try something new. I know things you haven’t been through. Nothing you say has any sway. I’ve always been here, never on va-cay. I’m still in charge. Always been here on the charts. So if you’ve got something to say, go ahead then go away. I haven��t got all day.”

“You were gone far too long. She mourned and now she’s scorned. Wished you’d never been born. So why don’t you follow through with this amazing news and tell us what you’ve been through. Better hurry or just scurry ‘cause this picture’s getting blurry. Buffering from our furry. Go ahead and have your say or go away like seven years ago that day.”

The radio clicked off.

Vox stayed panting for a moment, hands gripping the desk tightly. Then his breathing slowed and he sat back down. He restacked his papers.

“Guess he didn’t have much to say so he’s gone and went away. Nothing new. It’s old news. He’s gone once again so soon.”

The television flickered off.

Husk sunk into the couch. Niffty looked over to you with her wide eye. Angel looked down at your ring and then back at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Charlie still stood where she’d been when she came to greet you but she now rung her fingers together.

“Well, I suppose not all broadcasts are a success,” Alastor’s voice said as he came downstairs. “Regardless,” he clapped his hands together then he saw you. “My dear! There you are.”

You simply glared at him as you took a sip of your cocktail.

“Where is that darling smile of yours? You know you’re—“

“Where did you go?”

“Oh, what does that matter? I’m back now, aren’t I?” he said.

“You’re such a,” your voice trailed off as you looked down at your drink. “I cried for you.”

You thought back to late nights as a child where your father held you, whispering about his childhood in the vaguest of ways, making promises to never do you the same way.

“You promised I’d never have to do that,” you said. “You promised me the only reason I’d ever cry for you would be when you died. You’re not dead.”

“You know that my intention would never be to—“

“That doesn’t matter, Alastor!” you said.

His ears actually flicked back. You’d never done that before. You had never called him by his name.

A small part of you as happy with getting a hurt reaction from him.

You threw the glass at him. He didn’t side step it. It hit his newly tailored coat, glass breaking and liquid staining it. He didn’t even flinch.

“Fuck you, Alastor! Fuck you,” you said as you walked out of the hotel, slamming the door.

“I appear to have done something wrong,” Alastor said as he brushed the glass off his clothing, holding back a wince as his hand moved some caught in his skin.

“You think?” Husk said.

Alastor stared at where you had been before he spun around and went back upstairs.

“I’ve never seen her that angry before,” Niffty said softly.

“Yeah, me neither.”

#vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #one author two show hosts

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