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pinktom · 5 months

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What do you think pink about tomarry content creators getting abusive tomione asks suddenly? First obsidian, then I saw one more account getting and now seminar arts. Is it only one person doing all this?

Btw my jaw dropped with your no filter answer where you said that whenever harry comes the chemistry between to marry best tomione 🤣. I would love to hear more of your no filter thoughts

I have no doubt those asks were sent by trolls. I, however, am simply a hater—I see an opportunity to hate, justified or not, I pounce. x]

In ascending order, here are the reasons I think Tomione sucks.

PS: If you know this post is gonna piss you off and press "Keep Reading" anyway - that is entirely on you. Send me anon hate and I'll assume you're a masochist who wants me to spank your pert, round hinie and call you a naughty, naughty girl.

“Book nerd loves book nerd uwu” trope does not fit Tom Riddle, and I find it obnoxious.

Like I touched on when I was first sipping on that haterade, Tom Riddle values usefulness. By this logic, you could easily contrive up a scenario in which he wants to use Hermione’s skills for whatever reason.

However, the route that is usually taken in Tomione is that Tom is … impressed … by her intellect. A woman… who is… smart? He’s intrigued. 😏 He’s never once met a smart woman in his life before. And certainly not one so independent and feisty. She doesn’t swoon over him like the other girls do (eye roll).

I never got the impression anywhere in canon that Tom Riddle cared much about intellectual pursuits beyond those which were immediately useful to his goals, so for the very basis of a relationship to be his interest in her brains – to me, it’s tedious and off-base.

And also icky honestly lkjdflkj. Hermione’s two crushes are on a couple of stinky smelly boys (Krum, Ron), where the hell do you go off acting like she wants some mysterious, twisted dark boy? I’m offended.

Absolutely zero chemistry; once Harry steps in, it’s game over

Because these characters lack any common ground, shared values, or compelling circumstances that tether them together, there is zero chemistry. You can try to fabricate those things with a little bit of crack!cocaine, but then you’re forced to contrive a lot of additional personality traits and circumstances that diverge them from their canon selves. (Which yes, you can do, but it only works if you’re gonna do something really interesting.)

As much as people like to har har about how canon doesn’t matter, here’s the truth: yes, it does. Our communities only exist because we’re referencing shared source material. However much you can bend characters around, everyone knows each character has an essence that just “feels like them” on a deeper human level.

As such, we all know Tom Riddle and Harry Potter are intrinsically connected to each other. In Tomione this presents a conundrum. I could cite dozens of fics, but I’ll stick to two very well-written ones I enjoyed.

In one of them, Tom was a criminal and Harry was a detective on his tail; no matter how many times Tom fingered Hermione, he was always more entangled with Harry, because the stakes and intensity between them were so much grander. Same thing with the other fic but amplified by the Horcrux bond. At their very first encounter, when Tom and Harry laid eyes on each other, they both immediately felt an arresting connection, with distrust and intrigue. Hermione instantly paled in comparison in both stories.

It’s just like the moment Harry steps into the frame, you see how transparent and superficial the “commonalities” between Tom and Hermione ever are. Books and cleverness - oh but Harry, there are more important things! Like being spiritually linked! And sharing unique and intimate traumas in common!

Heterosexual Tom is truly disgusting to read about

Look–it’s a matter of taste. We’re all products of our environments. For me, no amount of feminism or fantasy can overrule everything I’ve seen and experienced in my life. ( ಠ_ಠ )

I don’t enjoy reading about women in relationships with men who are controlling, violent, and selfish. Even the way Voldemort treats Bellatrix in canon always makes me wince, because I see it like this … here’s this girl who grew up proud; who was beautiful, rich, extremely gifted and powerful; and she turns into this horrible sniveling creature. Say it ain't so! I wish she'd killed him when he broke her ass out of Azkaban.

But back on the topic of Tomione specifically — I think there’s another layer to it, which is the greasy self-insertion aspect which makes me uncomfortably aware of how much the author’s ginie is tingling at the idea of Tom Riddle lifting a brow and saying, “Is that so, Miss Granger?” while she scowls and tells him to fuck off !!!

It’s of course not the self-insertion in itself that’s icky. It’s more just that the type of person who wants to self-insert into that particular heterosexual scenario is, uhh, too basic for me and my big powerful fujo brain.

And I guess that's gets me to the very core of why I find Tomione basic, trifling, and underwhelming.

Tom Riddle is allowed no faults whatsoever in Tomione

Oh, sure. He’s controlling. He’s mean. He grabs her wrist and says, “What were you doing talking to Malfoy?” 😠

But so... ? Tom Riddle is a deeply embarrassing, mentally unwell trainwreck of a person. He's so much grosser than that. Yet you do not get that feeling at all in most Tomione fics. His worst character traits are often there but they’re made to seem sexy and flattering at all times.

I’m not saying your run-of-the-mill Tomarry fic doesn’t suffer this fatal flaw too—but when it comes down to it, Tomione doesn’t allow for his unsexy fallibility, period. Because the sexiness of the ship really depends on heteronormative romantic tropes and fantasies, which tend to be quite rigid and narrow.

And I understand and empathize with why this is; just look at Reddit, so many women in heterosexual relationships already must put up with mortifying, embarrassing, and unhygienic things (y’all know which posts I mean 🙁).

That’s just not what I’m here for. I love Tom Riddle because he’s a superficial narcissistic lunatic with no self-awareness and emotionally stunted outlook.

I don’t want to hear how he terrified the orphans if I’m not gonna hear about how he pissed the bed and got his bare ass whipped by a mean, toothless matron for chatting in sermon. I don’t care to see him bossing around those wimps at Hogwarts if there’s not at least one student who looks at “ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE” written in blood and feels tummy-churning secondhand embarrassment.

#tom #server #asks #offensive content #anti tomione #shipping wars

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ascendanceseriesveteran · 9 months

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The Scantily Clad Gargoyle 🌹

Ascendance Series Fanfic

Crack-fic that came to me in a dream.

Finally something I don't entirely hate.

Yet I'm still in a creativity slump.

Beware possible spelling mistakes and slightly mature themes as the title suggests. But mostly tame.

🌹🌹🌹

Imogen POV

It was a dreadfully incessant knock. Even a few seconds was enough for the beat to imprint on my still-sleepy mind.

"Who is it?" My voice was rough. Like I hadn't drank water in weeks. Perhaps the comfort of my bed took me off guard. So much so that my entire body took to resting for the first time in countless months.

"It's Roden."

There was a grumble from beside me, "Of course it's him." Jaron shuffled under the covers with another displeased grunt that I soothed with my hand in his mess of soft curls.

"You can enter."

The Captain stepped in looking more meek than usual, holding paperwork against him with a hand sitting on the hilt of his sword out of habit. Maybe sleep did him some good as well.

Roden spoke before I could ask why he was here, "I haven't been able to find Jaron. Do you know where he's gone? We're supposed to canvas Drylliad today."

That, of course, came with the stark realisation that the King was currently warming my least favourite side of the bed and less than a day after returning home after the war. Very scandalous indeed. I certainly hadn't expected to be outst this early in the morning. Clearly, the same epiphany didn't quite reach Jaron as he raised his head from behind me, confused, apparently assessing his surroundings as if he forgot how he got here. His hair was in comical levels of dissaray and his arms tightened their hold around me.

"Jaron?" Roden said, incredulous.

I saw the moment when everything registered, and the King seemed drunk on contentment when looked at me. "Yes?"

"I won't ask the obvious question, but I will say that you're needed downstairs. And we need to ride out soon."

The King groaned and disappeared behind me again.

"I'll wait for you downstairs."

"Wait," I half-yelled before Roden had the chance to turn around. "We need some help."

"We do?"

I frowned at Jaron, "You're a bit slow this morning."

"I'm just very happy."

"What do you need?" Roden asked.

"Clothes. Jaron ripped his."

And it really didn't help that Jaron chose that moment to start giggling, remembering everything at last, it seemed. Roden's eyebrows were up to his hairline. "Well he sure works quickly, doesn't he."

"Just... get us some clothes. You may leave." I huffed as he chucked and left the room, glaring at Jaron whose eyes shone with mischief. "This is all your fault, you know."

🌹 9 hours earlier

Someone or something was banging on my window. Being three levels off the ground, my first thought wasn't that of an intruder. But then I remembered where I was and how the Avenians were still potentially crawling the land in search of vengence.

I slipped out from beneath the covers and grabbed the dagger Jaron gave me. Worst case scenario I'll just push the person down, if it was a person. I really hoped it wasn't. I didn't want to hurt anyone and as my hands shook, I began regretting investigating rather than leaving, having been afraid that whoever intercepted me first in the hallway would think I was crazy. We were high off the ground after all.

I shoved the curtain aside and cringed, anticipating the worst.

"Imogen?"

It was quiet, and yet I knew exactly how my name sounded from his lips. I immediately opened the windows.

"Are you insane?"

I'll grant him something, the look on his face read pure remorse and innocence, it almost made me cave. But then I remembered who I was speaking to.

"I couldn't sleep and wanted to see you."

I glanced at the drop down with a heart pounding so hard it was difficult to hear him over the wind. I would kill him. Not yet. I would safely get him inside even though my palms were so sweaty he'd probably slip free. But I would make sure he was safe first, then kill him.

"You have legs." I emphasised every syllable and he had the decency to be ashamed.

"I didn't want to incite gossip."

"So you decided to risk your life instead."

"Yes."

Sure, that made perfect sense. I took a deep breath and glared.

"Hurry up and get in."

He reached over to grab the window and froze. "Uh oh."

"Uh oh?"

"Very much uh oh." Jaron eyes were wide and cheeks were becoming vibrant with colour.

"What's wrong?"

"My clothes may have snagged on the building."

"Oh. Oh."

"Yes, oh."

"Stop saying oh."

"I can not. I'm horrendously embarassed. This is probably the worst thing that has ever happened to me."

I laughed at that, "Yes because potentially exposing yourself to Carthya is so much worse that being whipped and tortured."

"Exactly."

Jaron had this unique effect on me. I wanted to put my palm to my face while simultaneously being endeared by his skewed, silly melodramatics.

"And its not Carthya I'd be flashing."

I grinned and leaned in close, savouring how dark his eyes became. "I could turn you away. Then it would be Carthya seeing the crown jewels."

"Please don't call them that, you're sounding a lot like Roden."

"I mean, that's what they technically are, Your Majesty."

He arrogantly tipped his head, "Well everyone is asleep anyway and it's too dark to see."

"And yet you were so worried a second ago."

"I just didn't want to make the few poor souls wandering below start swooning. Thought it might make you jealous." He was egging me on. But two could play at this game.

"OK, well off you go then."

We both knew I didn't truly mean it, but I allowed a seed of doubt to set in his mind, finding a sense of victory in the way he swallowed. "Imogen."

"Yes, my Lord."

"I promise to walk next time."

It was truly astounding how much more self aware he was when under pressure. Usually I'd have had to spell out my displeasure with his recklessness for it to finally reach home. When he'd finally realise that the fact that he was desensitised to danger doesn't suddenly make danger less dangerous.

"Well there won't be a next time, if you were trying to avoid onlookers, walking won't work either." His face dropped, so I kissed his lips and smiled. "So the only viable solution is one of us moving into the others' room."

He finally grinned, "Imogen, how scandalous."

"Only a little more scandalous than you are right now."

"I get a special exemption for being King of this country," but soon a frown clouded his expression, "Are you sure?"

"We have wasted so much time. I don't want to wait. I just want to be with you. Besides, I couldn't sleep either, not without knowing you're safe."

His smile was brighter than then moon. Starlight twinkling in his eyes until the distinct sound of tearing made them widen yet again. He cursed and looked pleadingly at me. I tried not to laugh while I scoured my room for a cloth, finding a square resembling a handkerchief. I waved it at him.

"Imogen if I didn't know better I'd say you want me to be indecent."

I crossed my arms, "Most of what you do and say is already somewhat indecent. If you were so scared of indecency you would have walked like a normal person."

He hauled himself upwards, the shirt peeling off his back like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis. I wished I could pretend it wasn't a sight to behold, glad for the dimness of my room that concealed how hot my cheeks became. Apparently, I was of weaker character than I'd have hoped.

Now that Jaron was perched on the edge with his forearms, shirt long gone, he looked sheepish, "Are you sure you don't have anything bigger? Some of your clothes, perhaps."

"I don't have any yet. You said we'd arrange something tomorrow morning."

He cursed and glanced longingly at the bed.

"I'm not giving you the bedding, Jaron. Just get in, I dont like you just hanging there."

"Ha. Good one. Nice pun."

"That wasn't a pun-" I really face palmed this time. "Jaron Artolius Eckbert, this is not the time. In, now."

"I just don't want to make you uncomfortable."

I huffed and turned around. "I'm not uncomfortable. Just annoyed and stressed. Now get in."

And that wasn't even the most eventful part of the night either. However, I wouldn't have it any other way.

🌹 Present

Roden returned surprisingly quickly and Jaron was quicky sitting up to assess the delivery.

"Are you trying to make me look like a clown?"

Roden played innocent, "Why would I do that?"

Jaron all but growled when he snatched the rouge, flared pants and yellow tunic away. "I'm going to have a word with whoever added this atrocity to my wardrobe."

"Maybe you'll learn your lesson finally." I snapped.

Despite the fact that Jaron was sitting while I was laying down, having stolen much of the bedding to wrap around his torso, he seemed to cower at my words. Good, I wanted him to feel embarassed.

"I already apologised!"

Roden laughed. "I think you will need more than an apology after ripping your clothes for her like some starved beast."

"That's not what happened."

"Sure."

He smacked Roden with the fabric and escorted him out of the room with a glower.

Only after he left did Jaron shimmy back down and gather me back into his arms. I missed his warmth in the short few minutes he had been sitting.

"Roden is expecting you down there soon."

"I will be there when I choose. I am King, after all."

"As you love reminding everyone."

He smiled and captured my lips with his.

#the ascendance series #king jaron #the ascendance trilogy #the captive kingdom #the false prince #the runaway king #the shadow throne #jarogen #jaron #jaron artolius eckbert iii

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yandere-daze · 2 years

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I've got a kinda crack fic idea for the Enstars self-aware AU! What if the player had a bad habit of raging at the rhythm game? Sometimes getting so angry that they throw their phone across the room when they get a Bad, Miss, or mess up their perfect combo?

While the player's phone breaking isn't necessarily an end-of-the-world scenario, it's not ideal for the idols and Anzu to be separated from the player until they get a new phone. They've gotta do something before that happens! Some of the characters would probably try telling the player to calm down and that it's just a game, there's no need to get so upset! Others might try messing with the game's code, either enabling Accuracy or upgrading it far beyond the max level somehow. If it means making that the player is happy, then it's worth it, right? Even if it's cheating a bit.

nsdkfsfsl oof

I tend to be able to stay relatively calm when playing the game but I do definitely get disappointed or frustrated when I just barely don´t full combo a song. Flashbacks to that one time while doing the tour event where it was required to get a certain number of full combos and I was doing super well the entire time only for my fingers to decide to be too lazy to press the button for the spp? Like I saw the icons pass by the screen and for some reason I just didn´t tap it??? It was so strange but all I could think of the entire time was "why did I do that😭"

gn reader

tw yandere

The characters panicking when the player almost breaks their phone out of frustration

But you would certainly frighten the characters if you suddenly just threw your phone into a corner, they´re so scared that you might have accidentally broken your phone! What if that happened and you couldn´t play the game anymore and had to get a new phone?? They specifically chose you to be their darling, what if they can´t find you again if you get a new phone? What if you can´t recover your account and so you will have to start completely over and you won´t have all of the cards everyone worked so hard for? You wouldn´t be able to regain their event cards that you now would have obviously missed until the memorial coins are added and even then it would take a really long time to get enough of them to get an old event 5 star😭

They´re so scared for what´s about to happent that they absolutely would comment on it when you went back to your home screen, practically begging you to stay calm and telling you that you still did a great job in their eyes! There´s always next time, right? So please don´t get too upset!

Omg yes, some of the ones that tend to worry a lot or the ones that have abandonment issues like Nazuna, Mika or Ritsu might try to mess with the game´s system to increase the accuracy to make sure you won´t fail again.You probably won´t notice anyway, right? And if it means you´ll be happy and stay with them longer than anything is fine in their eyes

#yandere enstars x reader #yandere ensemble stars x reader #enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader #yandere enstars #yandere ensemble stars #ensemble stars self aware au #yandere self aware ensemble stars au #yandere self aware au #gn reader #yandere #cw yandere #yandere x reader

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voidify333 · 4 months

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20 Questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @almarnatiaam- thanks!

1. How many works do you have on A03?

2. What's your total A03 word count?

133,211

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Ace Attorney these days.

I've also written for Les Mis and Good Omens; Les Mis makes up most of my works at 20 (though 4 of those aren't really fics, they're fanart pieces I posted to ao3 for sewerexchange).

And there's a couple random fics that aren't any of these: The Temptation Of Immediate Relief is a Pride & Prejudice missing scene fic that I wrote for high school english class and posted a polished version after graduation, and All Alone is a short War & Peace fic expanding the character of Anatole's wife who's entirely just a plot device with no character in canon (elephant in the room: the name I chose for her was retroactively made weird by my later fandom journeys by being cognate to the name of a completely different character, but like, whatever). I still think both of these are pretty good

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Wilson & Sons (Good Omens outsider POV fic about Aziraphale's barber, a family business that he's been going to since the 1700s), at 1861 kudos

You're Better Off Without Him (Good Omens outsider POV about the guy in episode 4 who says that line), at 763 kudos

perfectly statue-still (Ace Attorney 3+1 fic about elevators being a trigger for Miles, angst with a happy ending), at 433 kudos

driving back in style (in my saloon will do quite nicely) (Good Omens fic, silly cute little A/C getting together scenario), at 303 kudos

naughty list (Ace Attorney fic; angst with a happy ending; the premise is that Gregory didn't get to tell Miles that Santa wasn't real so when the von karma household didn't do santa Miles thought he was on the naughty list for a solid 4 years. If you haven't read it, ho ho ho 'tis the season to read it now), at 241 kudos

Yeah, my good omens stuff is never being unseated from the top of my leaderboard unless I end up getting into an even bigger fandom at some point in the future

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, because comments absolutely give me life and I need a constant stream of them, but unfortunately I don't get around to it often enough

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Absolute angstiest out of my published works is probably my very first ao3 fic, not quite nowhere to turn. Valjean sees Javert die and is too late to do anything. The fic is very flawed in that I was 15 and had not learned how to do subtlety, I can't look at it now, but I was a hyperlexic kid with A's in English so I think it's still better than what most people were writing as teens

Second answer is merry christmas., my most recent fic (if you haven't read it yet, HO HO HO TIS THE SEASON), it's Miles' POV for the first bit of Turnabout Goodbyes, it ends on a note of hopelessness that he's doomed to be convicted, but it only debatably counts since anyone who's played the games knows that the turnabout is coming

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my stuff has pretty happy endings, that's just my sensiility as a writer-- even "not quite nowhere to turn" has an afterlife reunion scene-- so I'm not sure what to say here.

There's some fics where the conflict was trivial in the first place (comedy and crack stuff), there's some fics where I feel in hindsight that the ending was a copout and that a rockier path to happiness would have been more interesting if I had mustered the strength to write it (When Tomorrow Comes is the primary example tbh), and there's some where it feels earned (the fics in this category include the ones I like the most)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've thankfully never gotten hate on AO3 that I can recall

9. Do you write smut?

Yes I do, but none of it is up on my ao3 account at this time. I have a ton in my google docs though...

10. Do you write crossovers?

I've written a couple. Both of them, funnily enough, of the format "javert meets one of my other blorbos and they recognise what they have in common"

In "and if you fall" (honestly the point of the title would have landed better if I did the full lyric "and if you fall (as lucifer fell)" but at the time that felt too corny), Crowley happens to be in the right place at the right time to talk Javert down from jumping (context: within GO book canon Crowley was asleep for the 19th century except for getting up in 1832 for a loo break)

In "The Choice Of Death" Miles Edgeworth meets Javert's ghost (AA ghost lore notwithstanding) one liminal night during his year away

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

On a tangent though, bc there's no question directly relevant to share this info, I HAVE gotten fanart for a fic before: this amazing fanart by @maym0rin for chapter 2 of "perfectly statue-still" (she gave me permission to crosspost it on tumblr bc she didn't have tumblr at the time but she later got tumblr when the twitter ship started sinking). There is nothing more flattering as an author than getting fanart, I hope this first time isn't the last time

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, I helped with @almarnatiaam's fic A King's Heart and got a co-writer credit.

And outside of cowriting on the level of be listed as cowriter on ao3, my friend who doesn't have tumblr (it's tsl for all the mtnr server friends reading this) and I have been collaborating and bouncing ideas on each other's fics for... wow, it's been over a year now!

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Honestly it would have to be Valvert because it got to me at a formative time and has shaped the kinds of ships I like for life

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

What do you mean "the" wip????

I have two dead fics and counting (one for les mis, one for good omens), and that's just the ones where I posted the initial content before realising it's too intimidating to finish. There's so many more in my docs; my friends know about some of them

16. What are your writing strengths?

Here are some that I have no problem bragging about, I reread my own fics often and smile at the moments where I did a banger line

Character voice (especially when the characters are my blorbos)

Using fancy vocabulary with precision in the prose to achieve effect (a skill born from trying to copy the vibes of victor hugo)

Witty prose humour (a skill born from trying to copy the vibes of pratchett & gaiman)

Prose from the POV of someone in a fucked up state- someone in a dark place emotionally, or someone whose motivations are fundamentally misguided or outright malicious. This is THE most fun shit to write for me

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Committing to long term character pain and tragic character conflict when it's not pulled/extrapolated directly from canon. I have many times read a fic where the author puts blorbo through the ringer and thought "damn if only I wasn't such a fucking coward and could write stuff like this". I've become less of a coward over the years and now enjoy

Writing anything long without a detailed plan for the entire thing

The need to use words with precision and write perfectly in character is as much a weakness as a strength. I am not a "write a whole first draft then edit" person I am a "dot points for the bits I don't have perfect words for" person and this sometimes causes issues where I assume I'll figure out how to get from A to B later but then it turns out to not make sense to get from A to B

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I have 4 years of Duolingo French and have used this occasionally for my Les Mis works. The way I think of my Les Mis works is that the characters are all speaking French behind the fourth wall but the fourth wall translates for us, so I avoid puns that only work in English except on a couple super cracky occasions.

For Inspector Javert Chooses Death (a fic with the premise "AU where instead of dying Javert fakes his death like Edgeworth and goes to england and unrepresses his homosexuality") I was originally planning to write the whole letter near the end of the fic in french and put the translation in footnote but my beta reader got confused so I scrapped that and had the prose paraphrase most of the letter and only included one French sentence

19. First fandom you wrote for?

First fandom I published fic on ao3 for was Les Mis. First fandom I published fic anywhere online for was Animorphs (when I was 12 I published a weird dark comedy fic to FFN which was a 5+1 or similar format of Visser Three executing people for slighting him by morphing into huge creatures and eating them. Then people on animorphsforum.com told me the fic was bad so I lost all confidence and didn't write fic again for years)

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Right now it's between my two most recent AA solo fics: merry christmas. (already explained; 1-4 fic) and the perfect weapon (Manfred POV throughout his revenge plot, SUPER fun to write all that villain pov, grew from the premise "he had to have known about the nightmare to plan all that")

My best Les Mis fic is but i have seen the same (i know the shame in your defeat); it explores my favourite parallel with a cool alternating scene format and I actually still like the writing and characterisation even all these years later which is a rare honour for one of my high school Les Mis fics

Tagging: @squadron-of-damned @kaleran @samioli @ashkazora @azalawa-scroggs

#ace attorney #les mis #valvert #narumitsu #good omens #fanfic

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inlocusmads · 1 year

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Hii 🥰

I saw this picture for Valentine’s Day and thought maybe it’ll inspire a fic or an edit (no pressure 🥰)

Peonie, thank you so much! Here's a little drabble to go along with the picture!

Pancakes And Warfare

He gives her a stubborn riddle she can never crack. Except she tries and miserably fails.

Pairing: Nora Rose x Trystan Thorne, Crimes of Passion.

>> wc: 1.8k, teen and up, language warning

"They're cut into hearts."

"On account of Valentine's Day." Trystan beamed at her. "This is what you call a -- pankūka. Drakovia borrows a lot of words from the Latvian dialect. We also borrow some of their wonderful recipes! Except this isn't made out of potatoes, no. This has your usual sugar, spice and everything doughey, sweet and remarkable thrown into a pot. But there is a secret ingredient."

Nora found it adorable to see some of his Baltic accent poking through. The kind of ways he employed to describe his cooking faded his pseudo-North American accent and made him roll his "Rs" and stress upon his syllables.

"Novogliterol?"

"Ha ha. Very funny. So funny that I forgot how to even laugh, so funny that--"

"Okay, okay! I'll -- try it out."

It wasn't an odd sight because Trystan could cook and that too, exceptionally well. Nora clearly had her doubts about him, but after exhibiting that he was an extremely skilled home cook, the Detective was willing to accept it. She was just a little apprehensive, because though the occassion was Valentine's Day, it was still.. odd. Strange. What's the catch? she asked herself, as she cut up a slice of the pancake with a knife and forked it, before tasting a bit.

An overwhelming taste of vanilla took over Nora's taste buds, but it made her crave it even more. She took a bigger bite, cutting right into the heart. The vanilla slowly morphed into something cinnamon-y and there was something else.. a tinge of orange and maple, dolloped with the fresh scent of strawberry sorbet. And it only proceeded to get better, for the strawberry left a chocolatey aftertaste in her mouth, laced with even more sugar and spice and she could even taste a little bit of chilli.

Now, yes, it was a cacophony of flavours as individuals,but when they were dancing around together, they produced this harmonious, orchestral aroma that gravitated to an intense blend of sweet, salt and everything. Trystan was right. The secret ingredient was quite possibly everything he could get from his kitchen (and Nora's), but he crafted it so in such a way that it hit her only after she chewed and swallowed it down.

"Is it to your liking?" Trystan asked, ever the polite chef.

"Oh -- my -- freaking --" Nora paused in between to draw in sharp breaths and finish her food. "This is awesome! Freakishly awesome. Freakishly.. freaky. It's strange. It's a pancake. A frickin pancake and you --" she pointed an accusing finger at him, "How is this possible?"

"Well, that's the secret ingredient, isn't it?"

"A secret ingredient or plural?"

"One. Just one."

"This is drugged."

"I would never do that!"

"Trystan--"

"No. There are no drugs. I promise. One hundred percent natural. All the best stuff. Only the best for you, Detective."

"So what am I even tasting?"

"You're going to have to finish the entire thing to come to your deductions." He sent a playful wink her way.

***

Luke had seen his fair share of disturbing scenarios. His cyber espionages led him to uncover all the hidden details; the carpeted scandals that the people in the upper crust had tried their best to get rid of. However, there was nothing comparable to that of walking into the office on a nice Tuesday evening, to find Nora Rose hunched over the table, in front of the evidence board mounted on an easel; with red strings leading from one place to the other.

"Woah-- what's -- up?" he tested the waters. "Working on a case?"

"Take a look at this! No really!" Nora stood up, nearly knocking her chair away. "I have to talk about this right now - this piparmetra popping up every now and then! Piparametra in Latvian is peppermint but what I tasted was not peppermint in any way. But it keeps popping up everywhere - and I've tried recipes, books, even songs! Drakovia has songs about everything but back in their rebellion days, they consumed a heck ton of peppermint and you had dishes with peppermint and cinnamon in them as spices and condiments and whatnot -- THEN I decided to talk to an expert who knows stuff about food, yes, Carl from the diner. He takes a stab at it, says there's absolutely no way you can mix chilli and vanilla and chocolate and make it sound sweet and he gave me this -"

Nora grabbed a huge book from her messenger bag and threw it onto the mahogany desk with a massive whack. The book was filled with post-it notes and packed with annotations.

"-- and I go through all of them! Anything remotely related to Baltic cuisine and culture. But then, I find this --"

She frantically ran through the pages, spotting a footnote right in the middle. "A paper trail leading to a newspaper. And when I went through the said newspaper, well it wasn't even one, because it was a food magazine. Why were magazines masquerading as newspapers? We'll never know, but that bit isn't important. What is important is the magazine in itself. The chief editor manned a catering service program for motorsport races - specifically the Formula One, but apparently the company shut down due to some shady embezzlement - again, not important--"

Luke tried to open his mouth but promptly closed it.

"The most interesting thing I found out was that a former member of the Renault Racing Team pit crew quit to write to food blogs. Emphasis on the "to" because he didn't start a food blog. He just submitted entries to the ones that accepted them. And he was employed directly by this person who owns the catering company. Funny, but we won't get into the details. The point is, it all ties back to Baltic pancakes somehow because -- this happens, yada yada yada, and somehow you have this Renault Guy and Catering Guy work on this recipe and on a mysterious food blog dated March 15th 2016, you have a story about the pancakes being a hit, some funny stories from the pit and so on and so forth -- but they are linked. There are no citations, no sources."

"But --"

"Anyway it is an excruciatingly long story, lots of embezzlements and tax frauds but we're not going to that. And also, there was an unsolved murder of a seven year old child that I also came across and that isn't important right now. The primary source of the recipe is lost, but I tried following fifteen different paper trails - food blogs, recipe books and not one of them explicitly mention what's in the secret ingredient. They dismiss it as a "spice mixture" and go onto gory details about their partner's affair with the zumba teacher. Once again, not important. THE POINT being I am so terribly lost. Do something."

"Do what?"

"According to this article on Drakovian culture, a tourist says they're all very secretive about their traditions and hate teaching it to foreigners, which is -- fine, understandable. Whatever. And then they go into a lot of detail about how to learn them, which is convenient. They go into a lot of stuff about sparring techniques and the five different words for the past tense of beheading alone and so on.. and I got a tiny footnote at the end. I need your help with the--" Nora made typing gestures in the air. "Computers. Yes."

"Ok..ay?"

"But there is a problem."

"And that is?"

"We might have to break into the Drakovian Palace's servers in Drakkos, which means we might likely commit international cyber warfare. Well, it is more of an espionage because data theft isn't exactly illegal by law and you can totally get away with the nastiest of things, but the whole idea is to just -- get things. But if Drakovia considers it to be a "strategic advantage" if we do break into their iron-clad computer systems and break whatever laws they probably have imposed on how they interact with the international community, we might be technically at war with them."

"So.. just a small war, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. Very -- small."

"What's this for again?"

Nora swallowed hard.

"Rose." Luke demanded a response.

"Trystan the other day made me a stack of pancakes and wouldn't tell me what the secret ingredient is, that made it taste so good. So I'm trying to figure it out myself and so far, it isn't going great." she said, her hair falling out in small clumps, eyes red without sleep and a half tucked shirt that could only allude to the fact that she'd slept in the office just trying to figure this out.

"-- what."

***

"The secret ingredient is.. love."

"Oh fuck off." Nora snarled.

"No, it is, Detective! I just added in a bit of a love potion in it." Trystan said, a cheeky smile on his face as he relaxed on his couch. "I'm surprised it has a low-reaction time though."

"I will murder you."

"Another Tuesday then?" he grinned.

"Okay -- okay--" Nora grabbed a mass of her hair, tied it up into a ponytail and rubbed her face in exasperation. It had been two whole days since the fiasco started and she was not having any of it. "You can't just tell me?"

"Nope. That defeats the purpose of it being secret. But yes, it is made with a lot of love and care. And you can never ever know it."

"Why not? Is it just to boost your ego?"

"Yes. But also -- this is the only riddle you can never solve and that gives me two shots of ego for the price of one. Crazy, isn't it? Crazy genius I'd say. Sir Trystan Sebastijan Thorne, Duke of Cleverness." Trystan chuckled, "But I suppose if you'd -- really like to know so bad, I can just tell you. I'm not a masochist, you know. No schadenfreude here. But you'd have to stick around to find out. With me, that is."

"How long?"

"Thirty years. Or eternity. Somewhere between that. Or.. I could tell you right here and right now, but you'd have to address me as Sir Trystan Sebastijan Thorne, Duke of Cleverness forever."

Nora scoffed and walked out the door.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Nora!"

***

"All settled now?" Luke asked, several days later. "Ready to take on a new case? I hear Mafalda's got some major stuff on the NYPD. Bribery and laundering and stuff. It's crazy good, but dangerous."

"Well -- I've got to wait for him."

Luke shrugged. "Who?"

Nora sighed. "Sir Trystan Sebastijan Thorne, Duke of Cleverness."

"What?"

And by a stroke of comedic-timing genius, the Prince walked in, flamboyantly waving his arms about, going all theatrical on a Thursday morning. "Good morning, everyone! I hear there's a murder on the papers today! Who's ready to get out there, hm?"

____

Thank you so much for reading! Happy Valentine's Day! I was in such a rush to get it done in time, because where I'm at, it is Feb 14th! Hope you guys have a great day! <33

Tagging:

Perma: @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @peonierose @writing-not

Crimes only: @cassie-thorne @lilyoffandoms @aallotarenunelma @ofmischiefandmedicine

#nora x trystan #w:inlocusmads #crimes of passion #askboxed!#peonierose

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fireandiceland · 1 year

Text

Fic Writer Questions

Thanks for tagging me @kitaychan 🧡

1.) How many works do you have on AO3

2.) What’s your total AO3 count?

82,884

3.) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

as of now I'm only writing for hetalia, but there's a couple of short drabbles on my abandoned marvel blog and some unposted sherlock stuff 👀

4.) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Say it. (rusame) and the nsfw drabble collection are on the same count rn

2. a visitor. (rusame)

3. How'd I ever get so lost? (pruk)

4. Let's get this over with, shall we? (prukden)

5. Unwinding Mr. Kirkland (mint chocolate - england x 2p america)

5.) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Ohh that's easy, Just once, before it's too late. I really put my everything into this. 💔

6.) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

That would be my 5 times crack fic. It's really cute and I still love the last chapter. 🥰

7.) Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I'm not interested in crossovers at all so I haven't written any.

8.) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, that's most of what I write and it's whatever I find hot. 😅 I cannot write porn if it's not something I think would be sexy cause I know it won't come out good and I take pride and writing good smut. Other than that I don't really have a preference for which kind of gender/sex to write. If I care enough about a character there will eventually be a nsfw scenario featuring them on my mind :)

9.) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I usually do, because it makes me happy when someone takes the time to comment on my fics and I want them to know 💜

10.) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Luckily, no. ✌

11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Again, luckily, no. ✌

12.) Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I'd be lying if I said I never thought about writing a fic in english and a translation in my native language just for fun.

13.) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I will hopefully one day turn a rp between maryeve and me into a fic so I guess that would count?

14.) What’s your all time favorite ship?

It changes a lot but rn I love CanRus, nyo america x england, SuFin x DenNor, and FrUsUk. 💕

15.) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but you don’t think you ever will?

The unposted frying pangle smut from my google docs. I started writing it about two years ago and haven't looked at it in more than a year. By now I'd probably hate it so much I'd have to rewrite the whole thing.. 😶

16.) What are your writing strengths?

I have been told I'm good with (dramatic) character introductions and setting the mood. I always get these super detailed images in my head and then I try to convey those feelings and pictures into words and I'd say I'm doing very well with that. ✨🔥

17.) What are your writing weaknesses?

Plot, planning things ahead, and actually posting the stuff I do finish. 💀

18.) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

I like it when it's just single words that are not plot relevant (like greetings and short exclamations that can be made sense of in the context), but you will never find me writing entire paragraphs in a different language just to make you scroll to the end of a fic multiple times throughout a chapter so you can look for a translation (sorry if I sound like bitch here but I hate having my reading flow interrupted rip)

19.) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Sherlock (BBC) I think there's still one of the fics on my ancient instagram lol

20.) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

This is easier to answer than I thought when I first read through these questions, but it's definitely Unwinding Mr. Kirkland. I spent months editing it until I was happy with it and I love it I love every last sentence I wrote there. 💖

Tagging:

@breitzbachbea @mpregfrance @alifeasvivid (no pressure as always ��)

#tag game #about me #riva.psnl

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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

There With You

Peeta Mellark x Reader

Words: 2532

Summary: A panic attack during the Victor’s tour leaves the reader gasping for breath backstage. Her fiance is able to calm her down, but now she’s afraid that what’s real and what’s pretend will blur together.

Notes: This is another kind of comfort fic based on my own experience, so I hope someone out there can connect with it. I love reading things to help calm myself down, so I hope that my comfort imagines can do that for somebody else. Plus Peeta is one of my comfort characters, so it works out. (Also, the reader has taken Katniss’ place in this scenario. Still love Katniss, but this fit the story)

Warnings: Panic attack, anxiety, the like (This is not a depiction of every kind of panic attack. This is just what I have experienced in the past)

None of this was supposed to happen. There wasn’t supposed to be two of you. There weren't supposed to be riots. The romance wasn’t supposed to be real.

Then why was he the only one keeping you from sprinting off that stage?

Peeta’s fingers were intertwined with yours as he spoke to the crowd, keeping you grounded. You tried to focus on the sound of his voice instead of the hundreds of eyes staring up at you. You looked up at the screens and saw her looking back at you. Her. The first person you’d ever killed and you couldn’t even bring yourself to think of her name.

Your breathing hitched and you could feel the squeezing, twisting grip around your throat. No no no not now. Not in front of the entire crowd. What would President Snow do to you if you broke down in front of an entire district? What would he do to Peeta?

“Thank you.” Peeta finished up his speech and a few people in the crowd reluctantly applauded. His eyes locked on your face, seeing a single tear fall down your cheek and he quickly led you off the stage.

He knew that District 9 would be the hardest for you. He still remembered the knife and the blood and the gore. You had killed her to save him. And now you had to live with that for the rest of your life.

The doors closed behind you and you immediately fell back against them, clutching your chest with your free hand. You ripped open the buttons on your high-necked dress, foolishly thinking that it would make it easier to breathe. The invisible hand had closed around your throat, knees crushing down your chest. When you closed your eyes, Clove was on top of you, choking the life out of you slowly, whispering all of the ways she was going to torment Peeta once you were gone.

“Let’s get her out of here.” Haymitch said, his expression a mix of worry and unease. He knew the image of a weak Victor would mean more problems that you weren’t ready to deal with. He remembered what it was like to be under the eye of the Capitol.

“I can’t… I can’t do this. Peeta, I can’t keep-” You gasped in between shaky breaths. Your vision was blurred at the sides and you were gripping the door to keep from collapsing. “I-I-”

“Shh, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk now.” Peeta said, putting a hand on your cheek. “Can you walk to the train?” You nodded, but couldn’t seem to bring your hands away from the door. Peeta looked back at Haymitch and Effie for a moment before turning back to you. “I’m going to carry you, okay?” You must have nodded because he kissed your cheek before scooping you up in his arms.

Your hands released the door and instead latched onto the lapel of his jacket. Every part of you was shaking and the weight on your chest was only getting heavier.

“P-Peeta.” You cried, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

“I’ve got you. We’re almost there.” He tried to hide the crack in his voice, trying to be the strong one for you, but seeing you like this split his heart in half. Haymitch and Effie huddled around you, trying to block the two of you from any prying eyes or cameras.

You didn’t notice when they finally got you onto the train. In your head, you were still on that stage, staring out at the little brothers of the girl you murdered. You thought for sure you were suffocating. Every breath was becoming harder and more painful than the last and the blackness at the edge of your vision was growing.

Peeta sat down, holding you in his lap and gently stroking his fingers through your hair.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You aren’t in the arena. You’re here with me.” He buried his face in your neck, gently pressing a kiss to the place between your shoulder and your spine. “You’re with me.”

“I’ll never leave that arena.” You whispered, your voice so quiet you weren’t sure if he even heard you.

This was far from the first attack you’d had since winning the games, but it was certainly the worst.

Haymitch and Effie just watched you with sympathetic eyes for a moment before leaving the two of you alone. Peeta held you tight until your breathing started to return to a steady pace. While your vision cleared, your body couldn't stop shaking and you couldn’t seem to pry your hands away from his jacket.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffed, trying to wipe panicked tears away on your sleeve.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have made you go out there with me. I knew what it was going to be like for you and I should have-”

“They wouldn’t have let you go out there alone.” You shook your head. “There’s no hiding from them, Peeta.” You repeated your words like an echo, over and over again. “I’ll never leave that arena.”

“Then I’m right there with you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and stood up, keeping you pressed against his chest. “Come on, we should try and get some sleep before we reach the next District.”

He carried you to your compartment and tucked you under the covers. He crawled up beside you without you having to ask. It had become an unsaid thing between the two of you. You kept the nightmares away as best as you could and when one of you woke up afraid, you weren’t alone.

Peeta had proposed for the cameras the day you left for the Victor’s tour, but it was all for show. The Capitol ate it up. When you really said yes, it was a week prior, just the two of you in the calming quiet in a meadow outside of the fence. It meant more that way.

Of course, Effie had picked out an extravagant ring for you to wear on stage and everything. It was gaudy and heavy and enough jewels to feed three districts for a month. But like the faked proposal, it wasn’t what was real.

You twisted the small bronze band around your finger, examining it in the faint light coming through the train windows. You had been awake for about an hour now, but Peeta’s peaceful sleep kept you from stirring. You rested in the warmth of his embrace and listened carefully to the slow, comforting sound of his heart beat.

You wanted to stay in this moment forever.

“Rise and shine you two.” Effie burst through the door and Peeta instantly went rigid beneath you, jolting up and pushing you behind him. You couldn’t see his face, but his expression frightened Effie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I-”

“No, Effie, it’s okay. Really.” He said apologetically, his expression softening. “We’ll be out for breakfast in a second.”

“Alright. Don’t be long. I know they want to do a feature on engaged life. A little romance might be just what you two need.” She gave you both a small smile before walking out, the door sliding shut behind her. Peeta laid back on his elbows, blowing out a low sigh.

“I didn’t mean to scare her. I just heard the door open and all I could think was that someone was here to take you away.” He pulled you back down to him and gently pressed his lips to yours. Truthfully, he’d been in the middle of a nightmare when he heard Effie enter. He thought that the images in his head were becoming real.

“She’ll be okay.” You concluded, drawing circles on his chest . “Effie is tougher than she seems. And she knows what we’ve been through.” Despite her bright and sometimes obnoxiously optimistic attitude, you knew that Effie wasn’t a mindless pawn from the Capitol. She saw what the games did to you. She saw the children behind the victors.

Breakfast was mostly had in a settled quiet. While neither of you said anything, Haymitch glanced over at you and you nodded to let him know that you were okay. It was that silent understanding that was the foundation of your relationship with your former mentor.

“They’re doing an update interview to see how the Capitol’s darling lovebirds have been enjoying their tour.” Haymitch said gruffly. “Which means lots of blushing and doe-eyes from you two.”

“That won’t be hard.” Peeta noted, looking over at you. He meant it sweetly, but something about it sent a shiver of dread down your spine. You ignored it, giving him a small smile.

“It’s comforting to know we won’t need to convince anybody of the whole hopeless romantic thing.” Haymitch made a face. “You two do a wonderful job of making me nauseous all on your own.” Effie smacked him with her rolled up napkin.

“I think it’s wonderful.” She mused dreamily. “How something like that could bring you together.”

You stiffened, keeping your eyes on your plate, pushing your eggs around mindlessly with your fork. Sometimes you forgot that this was still all a TV show for people to gawk at. You would be the star crossed lovers from District 12 for the rest of your lives. No amount of real emotion you felt for Peeta was going to erase that.

The other three seemed to notice your shift and finished their meal in silence. Haymitch excused himself to the dining car for likely the rest of the day and Effie left to work on the speeches you’d have to read in front of District 8. You hadn’t eaten a bite, opting to sip slowly at your coffee instead.

“Just a few more days and we’ll get to go home.” Peeta said, noticing your empty stare and untouched meal. You just nodded, not really hearing him.

“So tell us, Peeta, when did you know that you wanted to propose?” Caesar grinned into the camera.

“Honestly, I knew the moment we stepped out of the arena that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.” Peeta gave your hand a squeeze and looked at you with complete and utter adoration. Caesar gasped in awe, eating up the fluffy romance that Peeta was perfect at portraying.

Is that all this is? The thought penetrated your mind before you could stop it. A performance? Is everything he says for the sake of the camera?

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever forgive you for not including me in the moment, Peeta.” Caesar pouted. “But it was just so sweet I can’t stay mad at you!” The two laughed and you forced a loving smile. “Really, proposing in front of the bakery just before you left for the tour- why, it’s probably the most romantic thing I have ever seen.”

“I’m glad it came off that way, because I was a nervous wreck!” Peeta exclaimed and they laughed again. You had to admire his acting ability. Maybe that’s what scared you so much.

He’s just performing. Is he performing with you?

“I think we all want to know,” Caesar beamed, turning his attention to you, “what was going through your head, Y/N? When Peeta got down on one knee?”

You pushed any doubt from your head and just focused on everything you knew was real. “Honestly, Caesar, I can’t think of a happier moment in my life. I never knew what I was missing until we found each other.”

“Don’t these two just make you believe in love, Claudius?” He gushed to his costar. “We’ll let the two of you get back to your tour, but I can’t say how excited we are to have you all to ourselves here in the Capitol.”

“We can’t wait.” Peeta grinned. You both smiled broadly, waiting for the little red recording light to turn off. As soon as the cameras were gone, Peeta lifted your hand up to his lips. “That went well.” He muttered against the skin of your palm.

“Yeah. I think they definitely believe that we’re the perfect couple.” You hadn’t meant to say it so bitterly, but as soon as the words left your mouth, Peeta’s expression changed.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes were different, the charisma that was there with Caesar was gone. His worry seemed to stem from something real, but you just couldn’t convince yourself that it was.

“Nothing.” None of this is real. It’s all just the games. What if you’re still in the arena? What if this is all in your head? You broke away from him, trying to hide the panic growing and growing inside you until it was all you could feel. You could hear him saying your name, but it sounded garbled and far away, like he was whispering in the rain.

What seized you now was unlike you’d ever felt before. Not only was it the dark panic that blurred your vision and tightened your throat until you couldn’t breathe- it was a complete disconnect from reality. It was like you were trapped inside one of their screens and you were banging on the glass, trying to get out.

You didn’t realize you had fainted until you woke up in Peeta’s arms. His was sitting up, cradling you in his lap like he had before, only now you were in your room and you had a blanket draped around your shoulders. You jerked away, your mind still terrified that even this wasn’t real.

“Woah, hey it’s okay. I’m right here.”

“This isn’t real. None of this is real.” You whispered in a panic, still trying to push away from him. This was the Capitol. They were in your head. “You aren’t real.” As hard as you shoved against him, his strong arms were locked around you. He pressed a kiss to your temple, holding you closer.

“I’m right here. I’m real. Just breathe. Come on, stay with me.” While his voice was soothing, your vision was still blurred with hot tears.

“We can never escape this. Every second of our lives belongs to them. Nothing is real. It’s all theirs.”

Peeta pulled away, taking your hand in his. He slid the bronze ring off your finger and held it up.

“This is ours. It’s not Snow’s, it’s not the Capitol’s, it’s ours. It’s real and it’s ours.” He put the ring back on and moved your hand to his chest. You could feel his heart beating beneath your fingertips. “I’m real,” He looked at you with a gentle and yet intense love, “and I am completely yours.”

You wiped away your tears and laid a hand on his cheek. “Peeta-”

“And no matter the nightmare, no matter the fear, or when your mind takes you back to the games, just remember I will always be there with you.”

He pulled you back to him and the two of you remained- away from the cameras and away from the Capitol. At least for now, you weren’t victors. You were a boy and a girl who had saved each other.

#peeta mellark #peeta mellark x reader #hunger games #catching fire #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #the hunger games imagine #josh hutcherson

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aetherarf · 3 years

Note

Could you write a fic where the reader and Diluc are having sex and during it Diluc gets flashbacks of what happened to him and he starts having a panic attack so they stop and the reader comforts him? They wash up, cuddle and watch a movie or sleep instead?

Here you go!

[[ WARNING: N. SFW, IMPLIED PAST RAPE ]]

[[ Summary: Getting Diluc to accept sex wasn't common, or easy... It took time, reassurance, and then flat out waiting until he was in the mood. However, even after all that, he still has issues...

Word Count: 1'145 ]]

Up, down, up, down.

You both figured this was the best way to do it, facing each other, sitting in Diluc's lap as he sat on his knees, so you could do the extremely strenuous work of proving that sex was alright to a man who feared it like it was a living nightmare--and this way, worst case-scenario, if he suddenly got upset, he could push you off and you'd land on the soft bed behind you... So it could be stopped easily.

Your thighs burned with the effort of riding him, but the way he held you close, those soft moans, and the kisses he pressed all over your neck, sometimes stealing your lips, forcing you to stall just so he could show you his love--

And, from time to time, he'd grab your hips, pushing them down onto him as he thrust up just the slightest bit, the roughness just enough that you'd throw your head back and moan in pleasure, he would always look at you in horror, terrified of what he had done.

You'd always just soothe him with a soft kiss, and a few soft words, telling him it felt good... Only good.

His hands settled on your hips, thumbs rubbing gently on your stomach, more than a little mesmerized with the softness...

"You're adorable, you know that?" You said, and he looked up at you, mildly surprised that you spoke.

"... Adorable...?" He asked, with a voice that wasn't exactly comforting in this situation.

"Yes..." You looked over his face, seeing discomfort, "Do you not like...?" You asked, confused, but before you got a chance to continue, he shook his head.

"St-stop, stop, Get-get off--" he could barely control his volume, forcing it down to a whisper instead of letting it free as a shout. He was fully inside you, so you tried to not clench around him, slowly pulling off, hearing a choked, nearly pained noise at the slide just to get off of him, and you awkwardly flopped onto the bed, before getting back up.

Before you could even speak to him, he collapsed onto his side, grabbing a pillow in front of him and holding it close to his chest and face, hiding from you...

No, no, that was selfish to think. He wasn't hiding from you, he was hiding from whatever twisted up his mind, from whatever memories that forced themselves into your visage in that moment.

You just sat down near to him, resting your hand, gently, on his shoulder, the instant you touched him he tensed up--

"Diluc," you said, softly. "It's okay. We're okay. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

For a moment, there was no response, but ever so slightly he relented, his muscles relaxing as he breathed deeply, struggling to regain himself.

Slowly, you moved to hug him from behind, nearly spooning him, and you pressed kisses on the back of his neck and shoulders ...

Softly, he sighed.

"... I'm," he half rasped out, "I'm okay."

However, he didn't immediately react or even move, just staying there, clutching the pillow desperately.

"That's good," you praised, "You're getting better, and doing better. I'm proud of you."

He shifted, burying his face deeper into his pillow as a blush graced his features, even though he was hiding this fact from you.

He always was a sucker for being praised.

"Do you want to go to sleep? Or maybe I could read to you?"

Diluc hesitated, pulling away from the pillow, and inhaling a breath hesitantly, "Can," he started, slowly, "Can I go... Clean up?"

You pushed yourself up, reaching for his face to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, only for it to fall back into his face when he himself sat up, looking at you, eyes searching for any response...

"Of course, take as long as you need."

Immediately, he got up, still holding the pillow tight to his chest, and walked to the restroom, you watching him disappear behind the door...

The mood dead, and the stickiness between your legs was less erotic now and just flat out gross, you wiped up most of it, deciding to do some cleanup yourself once he was out.

A few minutes of picking out sleepwear, you grabbed a set for Diluc too, walking to the bathroom, gently knocking on the door, "Hey," you said, hearing the sound of rustling cloth, probably a towel, "I brought clothes. I'm setting them just outside the door."

You set them down, and before you could even get more than a few steps away, the sound of the door opening then half slamming shut happened in all but an instant...

How fussy.

After a few more moments, he finished up, hair somewhat damp as he walked out, using a towel to try and dry the most of it, you walked over, looking at it, then at his face--

"Did you take a shower?" You asked, curiously.

"Just a short, cold one, to... Cool off."

To get rid of his boner, got it.

You wouldn't mock him for that, though, pressing a brief kiss to his lips.

"You go ahead and sleep, I'll be with you soon."

He looked visibly heartbroken, frowning with his mouth slightly agape.

"You're not coming?"

He reached out for you, as though you had just told him you were about to leave and never come back, seconds from begging you to stay...

"I will, I will," you soothed him, "I just want to clean up. I'm... Sticky."

He looked at you with confusion, looked down...

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"... Okay," he wasn't happy per say, but he seemed pacified, "Come to bed soon?"

"My, you're demanding," you teased, seeing him wither just a little at your comment, "Don't worry, I'll come as soon as I can."

He didn't let you go without a kiss, but you made quick work of cleaning up, knowing he would be fighting like hell to stay awake, no matter how exhausted he may be from the entire... event.

When you walked out, changed, and comfortable, you saw him lying in bed, his glasses on as he held a book with one hand, as soon as he noticed you, he sat up, glasses low on his nose until he pushed them up, smiling as he saw you.

"Can you," he said, fumbling awkwardly with the book, "Read some of this to me? I... I've been meaning to."

You walked over to the bed, picking it up and looking at it...

Ah. Something you specifically recommended for him. You just smiled, "Of course."

You moved to sit down, crossing your legs, and he immediately rested his head on your lap, you looking down at him for a moment, when he just looked up at you... silently. Hopefully.

You cracked open the book, and he was asleep within seconds.

#genshin impact #diluc #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #genshin x reader #naughty bark #bark writes #request #anonymous #hurt and comfort #fluff #fluffy bark

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the-lonelybarricade · 3 years

Note

Hiii!! I've been following your work since the beginning and i just wanted to give u a big squeeze of a hug for blessing us with all of your fics 'cause i feel like we don't deserve u for blessing us with all these wonderful feysand content that u are sharing.

I hope all is well with ur life and in ur studies, and if it's not too much to ask, would you consider writing a feysand au where Feyre & Rhys aren't mates, but are happily in love and in a relationship--when all of a sudden, one of them meets their mate (preferably Rhys..?) or something like that 😚. Won't lie to u that im dying to know what events would play out and how Feyre would react if this scenario happened. Really no pressure to write this or anything just wanted to try my luck with this idea :DD. Thank u!

Bestie, ooof. What are you trying to do to me? Can you imagine how heartbreaking that would be for Feysand to be happy and in love, waiting patiently for the mating bond to snap only to find out they were star-crossed lovers all along? Well you don’t have to imagine it, because I already have. And if I’m going to be in torment over Feysand angst, I’m (affectionately) dragging you all down with me.

P.s. thank you for the submission lovely, I hope you enjoy <3

The Chains That Bind Us

Word count: 1,956

⟡⟡⟡

Feyre and Rhysand were happily married. For 300 years, they had basked in what seemed like an infinite stretch of rapture, working alongside and complimenting each other with a grace and chemistry that had always felt predestined. They had always been certain they were mates, but time had flowed on and neither had felt the inkling of that special, magic bond.

They have resigned that perhaps the mating bond will never snap, perhaps that’s simply not what they were to one another, but that was okay. It was enough to be husband and wife, to be High Lord and Lady, to be happy and in love. They didn’t need a mating bond to reaffirm what they felt for one another. Things were already perfect as they were.

Until they weren’t. Until they had journeyed together to Illyria to oversee the announcement of the first all-female battalion. It had been a long term goal of Rhysand and his brothers to finally battle back the long ingrained sexism of Illyrian culture, and the visit was meant to be a celebration. A liberating ceremony, in honor of their mothers and all the females who had been victims of prejudice.

But when the leader of the battalion stepped forward to be acknowledged for her accomplishments, Rhysand had gone rigid at Feyre’s side, his breathing suddenly ragged. His pupils were blown wide, eyes fixed, riveted to the female.

Feyre felt her whole world had imploded in that moment. Especially when that female’s eyes had met her High Lord’s and had frozen just the same, the two bearing matched expressions of awe and disbelief.

She was certain she was going to be sick. Such a thing would be far from befitting of a High Lady, so Feyre had immediately winnowed back to their River House, back into their bathroom where she was instantly emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl.

Rhysand was there not too long after, holding back Feyre’s hair. They said nothing to each other, not until Feyre had recovered enough to turn and face her husband.

She was entirely unprepared for the way her heart shattered to meet his face, to meet those lovely eyes she had loved for centuries. Eyes that had only moments before been staring at another female with so much blind devotion it had torn her open.

“Feyre—” he started.

“I suppose we should have assumed that something like this could happen,” she interrupted, because she couldn’t bear to hear him apologize. Not for something like this, something that was entirely out of either of their control.

“It doesn’t change anything,” he insisted, but there was a strain to his voice that had never been present before. A bite that Feyre was convinced was the result of Rhysand battling against his instincts to return to Illyria, to that female.

“It changes everything, Rhys.”

She was already weeping as she choked the words out, because speaking them made them true. Those few centuries of bliss between them, they were a bubble, a perfectly crafted delusion that had finally popped.

“I love you,” Rhys seethed, as though arguing with himself. “I don’t even know that females name—”

“It doesn’t matter, Rhys. She’s your—”

“Don’t say it,” he begged, his voice a broken rasp. “Please, don’t say it.”

Somehow, that made it impossibly worse. That Rhys had been gifted this incredible, Cauldron-blessed thing, but was scorning it for her sake. Most Fae dreamed of the moment their mating bond would snap, and here was her husband acting as if it was his worst nightmare.

But Feyre knew what it was like for males. She knew he was clawing against every instinct in his mind, screaming at him to go to his mate, to know her name, to claim her. Feyre stifled another sob. Rejected mating bonds could drive a male mad. How could she ever think to do that to him? How could she deny him this piece of himself?

What broke her heart more than anything is that Feyre knew he would. Rhysand would reject his bond, would let that intrinsic part of his soul be torn away, for her sake. If Feyre asked, he would stay. He would stay and be miserable.

“I can’t do this to you, Rhys. I can’t force you to stay with me out of duty. I will not be your jailor.”

“You are my wife,” Rhys choked, reaching for her hand. He drew her palms to his face, allowing her to caress his cheeks. He shut his eyes as he nuzzled into her touch, causing his unshed tears to fall, racing down to collect at her hands. “You are my High Lady. You are the only one I want to be with.”

That wrecked another sob through Feyre’s body, which came out as a harsh exhale as she tried to restrain it. “You’d be a broken male without her, Rhys. The Cauldron—” she sucked in a strangled breath. Some truths were just too difficult to confront— “The Cauldron didn’t intend for us to be together.”

“Damn the Cauldron,” he growled, reaching for her with newfound conviction. “No one and nothing can decide who I love. No one can tell me that you are not who I belong with—who I belong to.”

Feyre allowed him to bundle her in his arms, to press her fiercely against his chest. She knew moments like this were fleeting, where they could hold each other as husband and wife. Already, their love was tarnished. Tainted. Blood spilled onto white snow. How long would it take for this mating bond to seep, to spill into the cracks, to spread until it consumed them? She couldn’t see an outcome where they could stay together unblemished, where they wouldn’t come to resent one another.

“Rhysand, listen to me love,” Feyre said, and found that her voice was steadier than she anticipated. “I care more about you being happy than I care about that happiness being found with me. Do you understand?”

“I would not be happier without you, Feyre.” His voice was ripe with earnesty. When she turned those eyes to meet his, those violet depths were burning, the silver constellations completely eclipsed by molten amethyst. He swallowed thickly. “Do I… want that female? Yes.” Feyre cringed to hear her husband admit it outloud. “But, that is just my instincts. I will be able to manage them with time. This bond is nascent. My love for you? It’s endured for centuries. The cauldron is not faultless; my parents were mates and they were miserable together. I could never imagine someone so perfect to walk beside me as you, Feyre. I do not seek another, no matter what fate has to say for it.”

Feyre allowed the comfort of his words to wash over her. She rested her head against Rhysand’s shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent, letting herself lavish in the rhythm of him, the beat of his heart steady in his chest.

“I will understand if you change your mind,” she whispered. “I do not hold you to your vows. If you become unhappy, if one day you cannot resist the pull you feel towards her… I will not hold it against you. I give you permission to… to leave me.”

Rhys let out a small, rueful laugh before he pressed a tender kiss to her temple. “How could I desert a love that is so selfless? The least I could do in the wake of such a declaration is promise to never see that female again.”

Feyre shook her head emphatically. “Don’t promise me that, Rhys. Just—just promise me that we’ll always be honest with each other. That we’ll always be a team, whether it be as rulers, or as lovers, or… or just as friends.”

“I promise,” he swore. “I vowed on my court and crown that I will love you for eternity. And I still know that to be true, even now. My soul… it might belong to someone else. But my heart, Feyre, it will always belong to you.”

There was something irreparably changed between them. They both knew it, could sense the way it lingered between them. The first crack, and possibly not the last. What they had was fragile now, but they had a gift for being delicate with one another.

The silence hung between them, a wretched, discomfiting presence that had never been there before. Both not quite sure what to say, not quite sure where this put them. She watched Rhysand’s lower lip quiver, understood that it was from the strain of not burdening her with his own turmoil over the situation.

Feyre tutted as she threw her arms around him, recognizing the signs of his crumbling. Rhys bowed his head in shame, burying his face into her chest.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped against her, releasing a sob of his own. “I’m sorry it couldn’t have been you. I wanted it to be you. I’m a failure of a husband, for putting you through this.”

“You are an excellent husband,” Feyre protested, threading her fingers through his hair soothingly. Her voice was still raw. “I don’t blame you for this, Rhys. I love you just the same.”

He lifted his head so their tear-stained faces were level. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, still glistening in silver. “What do we do now?”

They clung to each other so tightly, as if they pressed hard enough they could redirect fate, could mold their souls together and correct the misdeed of the Cauldron.

“I don’t know,” Feyre answered, burying her face in his shoulder as if it would hide her from the truth of the world. “I suppose we have no choice but to keep going. We’ll find our footing again. Together. And if we don’t… well, maybe we can wish on the stars.”

There was a huff of air at her ear. A laugh, she guessed, or something like it, something wry and humorless. Rhys moved underneath her, and Feyre pulled away to watch in confusion as her husband rose to his feet.

He extended his hand towards her. Curious, Feyre accepted, allowing him to pull her to her feet. In a blink, they were on the rooftop, beneath the stars. She hadn’t even realized the sun had set until she was staring up at the impossibly bright cosmos.

“Where better to find our footing than under those very stars?”

She turned to him, and Rhys was staring at her the way he had on starfall, all those centuries ago. Staring at her as if she were the brightest star in the sky, as though he looked to Feyre to cast his wishes.

“Will you dance with me, wife?”

Not convinced she was capable of speech, Feyre nodded. Using the hand he still held, Rhys twirled her into his arms. And though no music played, they found their own rhythm, lost in the cadence of each other, spinning endlessly under the stars.

As they swayed under the endless expanse of sky and starlight, Feyre mused how even the brightest of stars eventually burned out, but that didn’t make them any less worth wishing on. That didn’t mean they weren’t worth fighting for.

⟡⟡⟡

#ask #prompt request #feysand #acotar #feysand fic #acotar fic #pro feyre #pro rhys #angst galore #bittersweet as heck #acotar fanfiction

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jingerhead · 2 years

Note

7, 10, 19, 28, 30, 33, 39

as always it's a lot

Omg it's okay though I love answering your asks hehe :)

7. Your favourite ao3 tag.

It's definitely a cross between "Neil Josten is an idiot" and "Andrew Minyard has feelings" because the first one is absolutely hilarious and the second one gives me feelings

10. Top three favourite fic tropes

Fake Dating

High School AUs

Celebrity AUs

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

“You were bitten by a spider?” Andrew asked, unable to stop himself from frowning after hearing the story.

“Yes,” Neil confirmed.

“How.”

“It’s really stupid,” Neil began, rolling on his side so that he could face Andrew, holding his head up with one hand. “Do you remember - that was a dumb question, uh, my freshman year. Riko was holding a party that one time.”

Andrew did remember. He remembered receiving an invite and turning Riko down, because he didn’t feel like going to a mansion for a day, much less for Riko Moriyama’s birthday. Instead, he’d spent that day with Bee and Aaron, baking the entire day. While it was much more fun than going to the mansion and breaking things for the hell of it, Andrew suddenly wondered if he made the right choice that day.

“It was boring as hell,” Neil mumbled, then shook his head. “Anyway, at one point I went to use the bathroom, but their house is huge. I thought I went into a bathroom but ended up in one of their fifty bedrooms.”

“How does this relate to the spider?”

“I’m getting there. So, I walked in, and there was this bookshelf that was clearly some kind of secret door, because it was cracked open.”

Of course. Andrew raised an eyebrow. “So you went inside.”

“No, I’m not that dumb,” Neil said through a grin. “I turned around to leave and spotted a spider on a dresser. I was taking it outside to rescue it, ‘cause they would’ve just killed it. And it bit me on the way out.”

Oh, Andrew was going to have to reconsider who he was dating. “You took a spider outside to ‘rescue’ it?”

“Yeah,” Neil said, clearly unbothered by what he just said. “It’s okay, I know you don’t like them. I’ll take care of any spiders in your path.”

Andrew reached up to grip the back of Neil’s neck, shifting so that they faced each other. “So, what about this one?”

“Ha,” Neil huffed drily, rolling his eyes. “You told this one to stay. Are you taking that back?”

“No,” Andrew was quick to refute. “Are you changing your answer?”

“Never,” Neil promised.

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

To not push it if you don't feel like doing it. Every time I try to push myself into writing when I'm not quite feeling it, it's always ended with me not enjoying what I make.

Also to write for yourself. Don't write what you think other people would want, write what you want! That's what always makes it enjoyable to me.

30. Describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn't.

There's a lot that I've started and then didn't want to do anymore haha, but the one that I worked the most on was an AFTG volleyball AU, because I fell into Haiykuu!! and AFTG brainrot at the same time but it just didn't feel interesting enough to continue.

33. Give your writing a compliment.

You have good grammar and flow nice :)

39. Wildest AU scenario you have written?

I feel like it has to be Neil as a fanfic writer and Andrew as a professional exy player who discovers it PFF. I wrote a little thing for a collaboration but I also started writing an actual fic that I'll eventually pick up again:

XxDarkHeartxX

The fact that you’re apparently so dedicated to exy to write fanfiction about it is concerning. Ask someone to help you break your addiction, junkie.

Someone. Took time out of their day. To write that. To read five chapters of Neil’s work and then leave a comment talking about how he was an addict?

Neil wouldn’t block someone for writing something like that. In his opinion, anyone could leave a comment about whatever they wanted, and he’d asked for constructive criticism in the first place. But this was just war.

Demiexyual

The fact that you’re so dedicated to being an asshole to read all five chapters and then leave a comment like that is concerning.

Demiexyual

Also why would you bookmark this if you hate it, at least private bookmark it if you’re going to talk shit.

#jinger answers #aftg #aftg wip #andreil #andreil wip #andriel wip #andriel #jinger's works

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lattechans · 3 years

Text

𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐦𝐞

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: minho has a very specific way of dealing with your misbehavior

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: minho x female reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dirty talk, pet names (bunny, dear), degradation, punishment (spanking), bdsm

𝐚/𝐧: thank you so incredibly much for a 100 followers! can't wait to continue and write even more addicting scenarios!! also this fic is totally for everyone who got h*rny after that kingdom special stage by wolf lino so....

₁₈₊

it was unusual for minho to not appear at home for dinner time, especially on his days off, and you suspected he was still mad at you for flirting with the guy you’d met earlier today.

it all happened when you had intended to briefly meet up with your boyfriend minho to give him his wallet he had forgotten at your place. and the guy just worked at his company and you had chatted with him before your boyfriend got to you. of course, you had no real interest in the man, but he wouldn’t have seen it like that. which had been your intention.

you liked it when he got angry.

bowing your head in remorse, you faced away from him as he stood in the door. he had a thing where he didn’t like to be looked at when he was in this kind of mood – not that that had ever stopped you from still doing so, taking a peek and being punished for it later.

you liked being punished.

“i'm sorry,” you said softly. it was a risk, he didn’t like being talked to when he was in this mood either. often minho preferred absolute silence, punishing you for any noise made.

“i'm not interested in your apologies, i’m interested in your behaviour — and how we’re going to make sure you don’t do it again.

"go to the room.”

there was no need for you to ask which room, you knew which room he meant — you had a special room that he used just for punishing you when you had been naughty.

before turning, you placed your now empty dinner plate back in the sink and boldly, you walked past him, watching him out of the corner of your eye as you did so. you were just about pass him when his arm flashed out and his fingers caught your arm, pulling you backwards.

“i saw that! you don’t look at me, do you understand?”

unsure of what minho wanted from you, you opted to not respond. his fingers tightened around your forearm.

“do you understand, bunny?” the words were forced out of his mouth, almost as a growl as he placed his lips very near your ear.

“yes, sir,” you said meekly.

“good,” he stated and gave your ass a smack. “get moving and don’t forget the rules, or you’ll regret it.”

the punishment room was quite small and lowly lit, in other people’s lives it would have probably been used as a walk in closet. there was no bed in it, because that was not what punishment was about — comfort and soft things. there was just one plush chair that had shackles, cuffs and a collar hanging from the arm. a chain hung from the ceiling, and in one corner there was a table with a large chest beside it.

that chest had all of your toys in it, which you had yet to even see all of. you always looked forward to finding out what else was in there, though what you had seen was enough to keep you amused for a very long time.

in the room, you stood staring at the floor, making sure your eyes did not even try to dart up. you couldn’t see him, only his feet as he was circling around you, and you knew his eyes were taking in your frame, his lips curled with amusement.

“do you know why you’re going to be punished, bunny?”

“be-because i deserve it.”

“mm, yes that’s right. now, strip.”

you took off your clothes quickly, placing them in a small basket underneath the table. you managed to get rid of your clothes smoothly, even with the amount of adrenaline pumping through your veins.

"go to the table and bend over."

you did as asked, heart beating in your throat. you could never know what he was planning, and although you knew it would be more than painful, you also knew it was going to be incredibly enjoyable. in fact, more than once in this punishment room, you had come harder than you ever had outside of it.

carefully, you placed yourself on the table, hands flat against the grainy wood surface. you knew better than to move from this position, not wanting to repeat your mistakes that you had previously done that led to you not being allowed to reach your high for a month.

you could feel his hard length press against your ass, hoping that this wouldn't be the only time so. he took your ear between his teeth, and worried at it quite gently, before whispering: "i don't think i need to cuff you today, because you know the rules. but we will use this because your mouth causes all the trouble."

he gagged you, which was fairly typical, unless minho wanted you to use your mouth for sucking him off. and you could not lie – gags were a huge turn on for you.

behind you there was a rustle, minho returning quickly after his momentary disappearance, lightly stroking your awaiting behind. there was a whistle through the air and something cracked against your skin, where his fingers had been just seconds before. unable to help yourself, you cried out, the gag muffling your scream.

minho pulled you up roughly to lean against his chest, squeezing your breasts in his hands hard. "what was that? did you make a noise, dear?"

you shook your head, and his fingers squeezed on you harder, making you wail once more.

"you did! and i was going to let you off lightly today, but now, i'm just going to have to give you the whole thing."

he let go of you, returning to the spot behind you as you bent on the table again. you heard the same sound of something cutting through the air, but you were able to expect the bite of the paddle and didn't cry out when he laid it across your skin.

and so he went on, spanking you with the paddle until you thought your skin would be broken, blood vessels bursting, though you knew he wouldn't go that far – just some bruising. the fire burning across your ass sent tingles through your body, dampness coating your inner thighs.

the entire time minho called you names. he told you what a slut you were, whoring yourself to any man who came your way. you deserved what you were getting and that you were lucky this was all he did to you. it was your fault for making him want you.

and undoubtedly you knew you had power over him in times like these, which was exactly why he was doing this. he didn't like to admit it. and his helplessness to stop his actions was one of the things that always made you enjoy this so much. oh, the spanking did hurt, but it was euphoric pain when you knew that he'd be inside you soon, losing all hope of control.

finally, he stopped and you heard the paddle land on the ground and his zipper be undone.

“spread your legs.”

you obeyed and were prepared when seconds later he was buried deep inside of you. minho was so fast when he wanted to be, and you knew that you'd better be ready for it.

he felt so good inside of your heat, buried in as deep as he could get, his balls against your ass. there was nothing soft about the brutal length inside of you; waiting for him to start thrusting, hard and fast, but he stayed still. instead, he leant across to your ear again.

"who do you belong to, dear?" he whispered, quick fingers removing your gag.

"you."

"for how long?"

"forever."

"and will you stop acting like a little slut?"

"yes."

"liar," he hissed and bit the skin on your shoulder, pulling almost completely out of you before thrusting in. he fucked you hard, but still you were careful not to make a sound. even with minho gasping and moaning in your ear.

a knot of pleasure began to build in you, and his fingers found your clit. after all, it was no fun for him unless you got off as well.

and soon, you came soundlessly and seconds later, you felt him come inside of you, shouting his own release.

once done, he pulled out of you and you heard him zip his pants up. you didn't move, unsure if you even could with your legs shaking as much as they did.

“all right, bunny?” minho whispered in your ear, his breath soft and cool, compared to its harshness earlier. he enjoyed the punishment room as much as you did, but sometimes he became anxious, seemingly scared that he was doing something you might not enjoy. you assured him that if it were to get too much, you'd tell him.

"definitely,” you told him, turning around to finally face him, “more than.”

he grinned and kissed you tenderly, his hands grasping your waist gently to help you stand up.

#leeknow smut #minho smut #skz smut #leeknow scenarios #leeknow imagines #minho scenarios #minho imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #leeknow #skz #stray kids

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kae-karo · 2 years

Note

{Director’s Cut Ask}

OMG PLEASE GIVE ALL THE DEETS ON THE “Ine-fish-ent” FIC 😭🤍🤍🤍

I reread that fic like once a week, I swear haha 🐠

ITS JUST SO GOOD!

AHHH YES HELLO HI THANK U 💜💜 askldjfjklsdf top tier choice this one was SO much fun to write lmao

for context - send me a fic you want director’s commentary on!

knights of favonius...always so ine-fish-ent - luckae

He just stares, while Kaeya flounders, literally, in the grass.

had to start it off with a pun in case the first one in the title wasn't obvious enough. i think this was my first 'crack treated so seriously that it's no longer crack' fic in genshin? there was a little bit of hand waving and subtle lore worked in, but really the idea behind this one was just...i want to make this as much fun as i can

“Why didn’t you say that it hurt?”

i'm such a sucker for kaeya's nonchalance to an absurd degree about his own pain/suffering/heartbreak/exhaustion, especially when diluc is the one to notice it. and then kaeya has to just downplay diluc's reaction as much as possible so he doesn't have to acknowledge the idea that diluc might care about him

“Ah, of course, how could that have slipped my mind. Certainly my first thought upon meeting you should’ve been ‘by the way, do you happen to be a fish?’”

i just want diluc to be a little unhinged about it all, probably to hide the fact that he's a little unsettled by how attractive kaeya is with a tail lmaooooo. besides the obvious tension between them (as per usual) i also wanted to make sure diluc was, at all times, slightly entranced by kaeya's tail. and, ofc, vehemently in denial about that fact, and trying to blame kaeya for his own attraction lmao

A fish out of water indeed.

i had a great time really leaning into kayea's dramatics in this one - often i let his dramatics be a side effect of like...genuine emotions that he doesn't know how to express, but my goal was a more lighthearted vibe for this fic, so i let his dramatics be more for his own entertainment than some convoluted attempt to show his true feelings

Namely, the sink.

this one is epi-inspired specifically, and literally a cornerstone of this fic in the sense that it set me up for just making as many awkward and embarrassing scenarios for kaeya to get stuck in (and more importantly for diluc to find him in). like, kaeya has spent so long crafting this perfect, aloof, unknowable facade, and it's all shattered magnificently in front of diluc's eyes as he watches kaeya get stuck in a godsforsaken sink lmao. i think that's really a part of what endears diluc to kaeya again too? like, just the sheer vulnerability and seeing behind the curtain in a way kaeya would never allow under typical circumstances, and most of it reminds diluc of when they were kids and kaeya wasn't so distant

“I should’ve left you out in that field,”

“Well, you didn’t.”

if you clocked this as the 'i should've left you on that street corner where you were standing' 'butcha didn't!' meme (x) then u were correct and i commend u for ur miscellaneous meme knowledge

“If you don’t intend to help, then at least leave me to suffer in peace.”

this i think is the first point at which i let kaeya like...actually express his emotions? like, he is mortified, he is way out of his depth (pun intended) and entirely at diluc's mercy, which ultimately is a terrifying thing for him - it's easy enough to keep diluc at a distance when their interactions are limited, to pretend he isn't the same as he was as a kid, but when he's seeing diluc's softer side, it's so much harder for him to deny that he's a caring person. and so much harder to cling to the nonchalance he uses as a proverbial life preserver

and, just as critically, kaeya's show of vulnerability gives diluc the chance to let down his walls as well, if only just a bit. just to laugh at kaeya a tiny bit. and the dam begins to overflow here for both of them, all those old emotions brought back to the surface now that they are, for lack of a better way of putting it, almost forced into vulnerability (kaeya especially)

You didn’t have to do this, not for me. Especially not for me.

ahhh kaeya's old nemesis, a degraded sense of self-worth (especially around diluc). the idea that diluc might be a caring person is perfectly reasonable, the idea that he might care about kaeya though? unthinkable. being presented with tangible proof of that only serves to short-circuit kaeya's thoughts even further. also, pool is a great resource for eventual smut :)

“Do you want to turn back?”

while i didn't harp in either direction on kaeya's adjustment to the merfolk body, i didn't want it to be an easy thing for him to decide on. he has to skirt the truth, a little bit - that he does miss aspects of this - while acknowledging that there are things he would have to give up entirely if he stayed in this form. i think i ultimately knew he'd choose to turn back, but he'd miss it anyway, having his tail back

Maybe hopes that he’ll run, because Kaeya is not entirely sure how to handle having Diluc’s attention when disdain is not involved.

my favorite flavor of kaeya is denial. it is an absolutely terrifying prospect to face the idea that diluc might not hate him, even worse to consider diluc actually liking him, and i think a lot of that falls into this place of comfort for him. he knows that if diluc dislikes him, then there's no chance to hurt him again, and he knows exactly what to expect in terms of diluc's distaste. but if diluc doesn't dislike him, that opens up all kinds of avenues for pain for both parties involved, and kaeya fears that deeply

Kaeya inhales slowly when Diluc pulls his hand away, and Kaeya supposes that he does hypocrisy quite well.

i like a self-aware kaeya? to a degree, anyway. he only lets himself find any kind of awareness for his own emotions when he observes that same thing in the other person - with diluc, it's only if he starts to believe there's a chance diluc actually doesn't hate him. and he absolutely knows when he's being a hypocrite lmao. i think this is partly where a fun contrast comes in between kaeya and diluc, too - kaeya knows his emotions, knows he's a hypocrite. diluc...less so, i think. he fights with his feelings til they settle, while kaeya acknowledges them for long enough to bury them (until they crawl back to the surface without his permission)

Diluc is perfectly relentless,

i talked abt this briefly in another director's commentary, but i find diluc to be the kind of character who holds everything back, then - with the right burst of emotions - all of that explodes. there's less caution, more direct action, whereas kaeya is the type to doubt just a little more? specifically with diluc, but he strikes me as more conservative, more uncertain that his affections are returned, and that ends up manifesting more in his actions when the proverbial dam breaks

“You don’t like me.”

this scene actually ended up more challenging for me than i originally anticipated? i really wanted to encompass kaeya's reservations and doubts without making the whole interaction excessively deep and angsty, and give diluc the space to figure out how to express his emotions in a way that kaeya could hear and accept without it feeling sudden or out of character. ultimately, i went for kaeya provoking diluc, and diluc showing his affection via obviously false denial/avoidance and action which typically suits him far better than words

“They certainly don’t teach that kind of thing to ten-year-olds,”

absolutely critical to make this smut as embarrassing as possible. ofc kaeya has no idea how to have sex in this form lmao. again, really tho, it all comes back to giving kaeya a particular brand of vulnerability that he'd otherwise never have around diluc - apparently, giving him a tail is a requirement lmao

“Yes, Luc. Please fuck me, I’m getting impatient.”

for me, kaeya always has a breaking point - it's not necessarily like diluc's, but there's always a point at which he falls from 'obvious, self-hindering doubt' into 'full acceptance that this is happening and he wants it', and the second he's over that line, he's into it. usually it requires like. diluc-with-his-cock-out levels of obviousness, but ultimately it's some action on diluc's part, and likely because kaeya knows him well enough that actions speak far louder than words

“You didn’t even thank the dear alchemist,” he chides, and Diluc’s stare turns hard.

once again, the goal was to make this story as comedic and fun as possible, including accidental interruptions lmao. and kaeya, ever the tease

Kaeya suspects it’ll be the latter, but he’s always had an especially naive brand of hope when it comes to Diluc.

actually this line basically sums up the way i characterize kaeya - he has it set in his head, what he thinks he knows about diluc, and beneath that, what he does know about diluc. and surrounding it all, he hopes anyway, and all those thoughts and tidbits of knowledge run counter to each other in ways that kaeya consistently fails to reconcile - but at the end of it all, i think he ultimately always has this hope that diluc will be how he was, that he'll like kaeya again, or tolerate him a little more at least

“Just stay.”

between the two of them, i think once there's some sort of acceptance on both parts, diluc tends to be the more forward. not so much that he's great at words, but unlike kaeya - who will come up with every excuse under the sun for why whatever admission or activity that just happened was not a true reflection of diluc's emotions - diluc will just. bluntly state it and make them both acknowledge it

“What do you say, Master Diluc. Care to join me?”

very important to know that, now that albedo has crafted an anti-fish potion, he's managed to backwards-engineer a potion to turn kaeya into his merfolk form. diluc has purchased quite a few of both types and blatantly refuses to answer albedo's questions as to why. kaeya finds it endearing and very hot that diluc likes him both as a fish and not - and they do absolutely traverse out to the ocean so kaeya can swim properly. he spends a whole day out there sometimes, diluc sat on the beach after he's grown tired of swimming along with kaeya, and kaeya will go as far and deep as he reasonably can before returning. the best of both worlds, in a sense, though they definitely still keep the pool

send me a fic you want director’s commentary on!

#luckae #genshin #genshin impact #genshin fic #ask game #fic game #ask #go-ask-ash #fic directors commentary

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the-sea-called-history02 · 3 years

Text

I Want to See My Little Boy

(Here He Comes)

(Song isn’t related to the content of the story, it just gives Hyunjin vibes to me. Don’t ask why. It just does.)

Hwang Hyunjin x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff with a good ol’ helping of angst (very sfw in my opinion)

Word Count: 1400

Warnings: fighting, cursing, frequent implications of mental health (depression, anxiety, panic attacks, low key reader has implied abandonment issues)

You know those days where every damn thing that can go wrong does? Why did today have to be one of those days? It wasn’t your fault everyone tried to cut you off in traffic, but your boss still yelled at you for being late. It wasn’t your fault that some clumsy idiot knocked your coffee onto the report you had been working on for weeks, but your coworkers were still furious about it. It wasn’t your fault that the one person who could make it all go away, your boyfriend, Hwang Hyunjin, was on tour with his members halfway around the world and wouldn’t be coming home for another three days, but you couldn’t help but want nothing more than for him to hold you close and tell you it would be okay.

Of course, it wasn’t in any way his fault either. He had been so excited when the tour had been announced, and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile while the memories of him excitedly bouncing around your apartment replayed in your mind.

“I can’t wait to see all of Stay again! It’s been so long and I’m just so ready to get back on stage and I hope they like our new songs as much in concert as they did on the album and I’m so nervous that they won’t like my choreography, and…” he rambled on and on about all the things he was going to say and do in every city they visited, and watching your normally quiet, reserved boyfriend finally get to return to the job he loved so much filled your heart with absolute joy.

“You’re coming with us, right, beautiful?” He had stopped running around and had grabbed you by the waist, the use of his favorite pet name for you sending butterflies straight to your stomach, “I mean, it’ll be a great time and we’ll finally get to travel together like we’ve always wanted to!” You wanted with your whole heart to say yes, but you knew your boss wouldn’t let you take two days off of work, much less the six months that the boys would be gone for.

“Jinnie, I can’t. I wish I could, but I have to stay here or else I’ll risk losing my job.” You peeled your eyes away from his hopeful gaze and looked down at your feet. Both of you were wearing the matching fuzzy socks you had gotten for your one year anniversary last month.

“What do you mean? You have to come! I need you there with me, and, besides, you hate that job. You can just come with us and find a new job when you get back.”

“It’s not that easy, love. Trust me. I’ve been looking for a different job for months and nothing that could even remotely cover my half of the rent is available.” You could tell he was getting frustrated because his beaming smile had fallen from its place on his pretty lips. All he had wanted was to share his favorite thing with you, but your stupid job had gotten in the way again. Just like it had on his birthday and Christmas and New Year’s. He knew he shouldn’t be this mad, but he was sick of it stealing the precious moments that he had spent his whole life dreaming of sharing with the one he loved.

“I’ve told you a million times that I’m happy to pay the full amount for rent, but fine. Stay here with your dead end job. You’d just ruin everything like you always do. I’d rather just spend the tour with the boys, anyway,” he spat, letting go of your waist and walking out of the living room and into your shared bedroom. You wanted to stop him, but you were so shocked at his words that you couldn’t have moved if you tried. He had always been so understanding of the fact that you were just doing the best you could to support him while also supporting yourself. Even if that meant that you had to miss out on a few important things to do so. Your once present smile quickly disappeared as the slightly painful memory concluded and faded off into the depths of your mind.

You had, of course, made up before he left, and you knew he still loved you just as much as you loved him, but for some reason you were still terrified. The three days had passed like a summer storm, and here you were, nervously picking at the skin of your fingers until they bled, at the gate of the plane Hyunjin was on. Throngs of excited fans were cordoned off behind thin ropes as security separated you from them. Stay had always been super supportive of your relationship with Hyunjin, which you were beyond grateful for, but the company still didn’t want to take any chances because without you, there was no Hyunjin. Even so, here you were. Standing between several large men in suits and replaying idiotic “what if’s” in your head. What if he found someone else while he was on tour? What if he decided that you and your awful job were too much of a burden on him? What if he didn’t love you anymore?

You were so wrapped up in your anxiety-fueled thoughts that you hardly noticed when the crowd started screaming, signaling the members’ return. You quickly snapped back into reality and straightened yourself. One by one, the boys walked out with their carry-ons, surrounded by guards who were dressed identically to the ones around you. They looked tired, but, more importantly, they looked happy. Every one of them had this glow about them as they sluggishly trudged down the ramp. A glow that only comes when someone does something they love and that makes them feel whole.

Seven of the boys had met up at the base of the ramp, but none of them were your boy. The boy you loved so deeply, it hurt. It really hurt. Maybe that was why you were so nervous. Loving him hurt, but you knew that losing his light would plunge you into the darkest place imaginable and that wouldn’t just hurt. It would kill you. Or maybe you were just so excited to have your beloved boyfriend back, that it just felt like a panic attack. You honestly couldn’t tell, but still, you focused your eyes on the plane intensely. Just then, a tall, slender man appeared at the top of the gently sloping exit ramp and proceeded gracefully down towards his brothers.

As he reached them, he began quickly looking around the airport lobby that they had been waiting in. You saw him ask Chan something and that Chris didn’t hesitate to point directly at the spot where you were standing, unconsciously fidgeting with your sleeves and tapping your feet. Hyunjin peeked around his leader and when his eyes met yours you could have sworn he had just seen an angel descending from the sky, the way his face lit up. He broke away from the group and started bolting towards you with the purest smile on his face. You started to panic in a different way as he approached you, seeing as he didn’t show signs of slowing down any, and you weren’t a particular fan of being trampled, but as he reached you, he picked you up and swung you around, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips.

“I fucking missed you, beautiful,” he whispered in a voice so soft and gentle you wouldn’t have heard it unless you were the one whose lips were still softly touching his, which, thank God, you were.

“I fucking missed you too, sweet boy,” tears threatening to spill over as you held him tightly in your arms. You realized then and there that there was no way that this man was going to just find someone else and leave you without warning. Too much love radiated from his entire being for that to ever be a possible scenario. You gratefully held him in your arms. Your little boy. Sure, he was bigger than you in pretty much every sense of the word, and there wasn’t a snowball’s chance that you were in charge in the bedroom (most of the time, but that’s a different story), but, when push comes to shove, he is, and always will be, your little boy, and you wouldn’t ever want it any other way.

Hey! So this is the first fic I’ve ever written, and I’m actually kind of proud of it. That said, if anyone has feedback, I would really appreciate it! Okay, love you!

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refinedbuffoonery · 3 years

Text

Looking Through A Window (7)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Sorry for the delay! I either have my shit together in real life or fandom life, but never both at the same time lol. Anyway, I got endless joy from reading all your reactions to last chapter’s clifhanger (sorry not sorry). I didn’t respond to comments because I don’t trust myself not to spoil anything, but just know that I appreciate every single one of your theories. Also, many of you were at least somewhat correct. (Yikes am I becoming predictable?? Gotta fix that.) This chapter ends at a good stopping point, so I’m going to switch gears and write a couple chapters of other fics (which I encourage you to read!!) before coming back to this. But fear not! I have big plans for the future of this fic, and I’ll send you all down the theory rabbit hole soon enough. xoxo

*****

The world narrows until Mac is only aware of two things: his racing heart and the fact that Riley is gone.

The blood is fresh, but there’s no sign of a struggle—no sign of anything, really. The windows are locked and unbroken, the bedroom door is half-closed the way it always is. Not a single thing is out of place…except for Riley.

So, where the hell is she?

His body goes taut as the worst case scenario plays in his mind. Please don’t be gone, Mac silently begs. Please.

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. So when the shower turns on with a loud thunk, Mac flinches. Hard. Without thinking, he scrambles out of bed and lunges for the bathroom door.

As he bursts through the door, Mac’s awareness shifts to three things: Riley is alive, she’s naked, and she’s screaming.

“Mac!” She hisses, glaring over her shoulder. If looks could kill, he’d be very, very dead by now. At least her back is to him. “What the hell?”

Mac barely hears her over the roaring in his ears. He scans her naked body, trying and failing to be professional as he scans for injuries.

His eyes land on the blood smeared between her thighs, then the thin stream rolling down the inside of her knee. As understanding dawns on him, Mac holds out his own blood-covered hand in silent explanation.

Riley winces. “Sorry about the blood.”

Mac still feels a little disconnected from his body when he says, “I was afraid you were dead.”

Embarrassment floods Riley’s face. She begs,“Can we please finish this conversation when I’m not naked and bleeding all over the floor?” Mac’s gaze automatically flicks to the drops of blood between her feet, but he doesn’t move. His limbs are still frozen in place, the way they’ve been since he found her. “Get out!” Riley snaps.

His own embarrassment finally taking hold, Mac stumbles backward, tripping over the door frame on his way out.

While Riley showers, Mac busies himself by stripping the bed and washing the sheets and blankets. Not just because it needs to be done, but because it’s easier to process emotions when his hands are busy. It feels like he just experienced the entire spectrum of human emotion in the span of three minutes, and now all these untethered feelings are floating around in his head. As he works, Mac examines them one by one.

He woke up this morning wanting to cuddle with Riley. Not just wanting to, but comfortable enough to act on that desire.

When his hand landed in the blood, his brain immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. He is deeply afraid of said scenario.

Then panic set in, as he desperately tried to prove himself wrong.

Followed by relief at finding Riley and learning the blood was not from an injury, but from a normal bodily function.

Then embarrassment, because he freaked out and barged in on her over something he could’ve deduced for himself if only he’d just stopped to think. He’s supposed to be smart, so why couldn’t that big brain of his, as Jack would say, figure this out?

The answer to that question, at least, comes easily: Because it’s Riley, and he doesn’t always think with his head when it comes to her.

For example, while he’s mortified at seeing her naked, a part of him wishes she’d been facing the other direction.

Mac starts the washing machine and decides to do the mature thing and hide in the kitchen for the entire foreseeable future. He spies Harley lying on the couch, gazing out a window. “And where were you for all of this?” he asks. “A heads-up would’ve been nice.”

Harley stares at him for a few seconds before resuming her vigil, and Mac hears the message, loud and clear: You’re on your own.

When Riley still hasn’t emerged from the bedroom long after the shower turned off, Mac suspects that she’s hiding too. He doesn’t blame her.

It’s late morning by the time the laundry is finished, and Mac can’t hide any longer. Clutching the still-warm sheets and blankets to his chest, he cautiously ventures into the bedroom. Riley is lying on the bed with her knees tucked up to her chin, and a pang of sympathy echoes in Mac’s chest. Her eyes are closed, but Mac doubts that she’s actually asleep.

Dropping the sheets on the floor, he asks, “Are you alive?”

Riley groans. “No.”

“Could you please go die on the couch then, so I can make the bed?” She groans again and mumbles something incoherent. “Also you’ll feel better if you eat something.”

“No I won’t.” She sounds like a whining toddler, and Mac has to stifle a snort. Still, a bit of the awkwardness dissipates. But only a bit.

“Yes you will. I know you, Miss Hangry.”

“I’m not hangry.”

“Says the one who skipped breakfast.”

“I was hiding from you.”

“So was I,” Mac confesses. Riley cracks a single eye open at that, just in time to see his cheeks heat. “Trust me, I am way more embarrassed than you.”

It takes him a second to notice that she’s blushing too. “Wanna bet?”

Mac starts putting the fitted sheet on the unoccupied side of the mattress. “I didn’t see anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Nothing he hasn’t seen before, anyway, but Mac wisely decides to keep that part to himself. “Victoria’s secret is still a secret,” he adds with a wink.

Riley rolls her eyes. “You did not just say that.”

“Made you laugh, didn’t it?” Mac gives her a shit-eating grin, and despite her best attempt at hiding it, amusement slips through the cracks in Riley’s unimpressed facade.

“Whatever. We don’t have to do anything today, do we?” Mac raises his brow at the question. For all the years he’s known Riley, she’s always been more of a ‘suck it up’ kind of person, not a ‘stay in bed’ person. So her question is surprising, if not mildly concerning.

“Nope.” He pauses. “Are you okay? This isn’t like you.”

Riley rolls onto her back. “Dude, it feels like someone took a cheese grater to my insides.”

Mac winces at the mental image. “Ouch.”

She pauses, as if contemplating her next words before she says them. “I got a new IUD a couple months ago, and this one makes my cramps way worse. I used to be able to ignore them, but this sucks.”

Not knowing how to reply to that, he squeezes Riley’s ankle in a way he hopes is reassuring. Mac flicks his gaze up to meet hers and finds Riley already looking at him. Her gaze is warm and steady, but Mac can see hints of pain clouding her dark eyes. He thinks it isn’t fair that her body turns on her like this.

"I'm getting back in bed the second you're done making it," she warns.

"Go right ahead."

Riley wanders into the kitchen, and, true to her word, reappears right when Mac finishes smoothing down the comforter, with Harley at her heels. To Mac's surprise, Harley jumps on the bed, waits for Riley to get situated, and then tucks herself into Riley's side. A smile blooms on his face. Riley puts an arm around Harley, pulling the dog into her stomach before moving to scratch her head. When Harley licks Riley’s face in return, Mac suddenly gets the feeling he's watching something private.

Satisfied that Riley is in capable hands, Mac leaves without another word.

*****

Beneath the weathered wooden conference table, Harley’s head rests on Mac’s foot as she dozes through the Patriots’ council meeting. When they arrived, no one looked more put off by their presence than Conrad, but, true to his word, Ethan welcomed Mac and Riley with open arms and encouraged their participation. A murmur of dissent snaked through the room, but no one openly questioned Ethan’s decision to include them.

Twenty minutes in, Mac would rather be anywhere but here. The “meeting” so far has been very little business and mostly rehashing some fishing trip a few of the guys went on over the weekend. Mac is holding out hope that it won’t be a complete waste of his time, but said hope dwindles each time someone exaggerates about the size of a fish.

There’s nothing interesting to look at in the room, save for Riley. No art, no plants, no wall of guns. Not even a clock. Just drab gray walls with no windows. And he doesn’t dare study any of the men for longer than a second or two each. Making an enemy is as easy as looking at someone the wrong way, and Mac has no desire to antagonize the other members of the Patriots…at least not yet.

Extricating his foot from beneath Harley’s head, he’s just about to make an excuse about needing to use the restroom when Ethan’s phone rings. After quickly checking it, Ethan excuses himself from the meeting with a curt nod to Conrad. Mac understands the look; he’s given and received it countless times himself, after all. Permission to continue without him. Because despite his tendency to toe the line, Conrad is still Ethan’s trusted lieutenant. The exchange is subtle, practiced, and apparently insignificant to the other men at the table, who are somehow still talking about fish.

When the storytelling finally lulls, Conrad clears his throat. "Let's start with recruitment. Report." No nonsense, right to the point. Maybe he’s tired of the fish conversation too.

As Conrad steers the conversation through the various items on the agenda, Mac realizes two things.

One, the Patriots are far more organized than he originally made them out to be. This is no grassroots startup, and their plans go much deeper than protests and parking lot shootings.

Two, Conrad is careful not to let anyone share too much information, instead asking everyone to give their detailed reports in individual meetings. And it's more than just trying to keep him and Riley in the dark. It's almost as if…almost as if Conrad doesn't want anyone to see the big picture besides himself.

Mac decides to take his theory for a test drive. "I know I'm new here," he says, "but why have everyone meet with you a second time individually instead of sharing their full reports now? Wouldn't that be a better use of time?"

Conrad sneers. "On the contrary, boy, why would I waste everyone's time making them listen to information they don't need to know?"

It takes every ounce of Mac’s self control not to roll his eyes.

Beneath the table, Riley grips his knee, nails digging in through his khakis. Mac wants to tell her that he’s thinking the same thing she is, but he can’t. The best he can settle for is a brief touch on her arm before needing to do something with his hands to distract himself from the way his skin burns under her touch. He elects to drum his fingers on the table, mostly to push Conrad’s buttons even further.

If Conrad’s furrowed brow is any indication, it works.

“Do you mind?” Conrad says with a pointed glare at Mac’s hand.

Feigning ignorance, Mac replies, “Mind about what?”

“The tapping.”

“Oh!” Mac makes a show of sliding his gaze down to his hand before flattening his palm against the table. “My bad.”

Looking none too pleased, Conrad moves on, but to Mac’s surprise, the man sitting beside him leans in to whisper, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He's not the one to piss off." His words are tinged with genuine concern, and under different circumstances, Mac would appreciate the advice.

"He's a man," Mac whispers back, "just like everyone else at this table." Minus Riley, of course.

The man presses on. "The previous occupant of your seat was shot point blank for asking too many questions." Mac's brows raise at that. "You're sitting in a dead man's chair."

Mac pockets that little detail gratefully, but he hesitates before ultimately heeding the man's warning. He fiddles with the button on his sleeve, impatiently waiting for the meeting to end so he can share his theory with Riley.

What Mac doesn't anticipate is Riley beating him to it, pulling him aside before they're even back in the car. "Conrad's compartmentalizing information," she says in a quiet, confident tone.

They’re too exposed to be having this conversation. Mac nervously checks for eavesdroppers, but doesn’t spot any. Deeming it safe for now, he replies, "Yeah I thought so too."

"He's made himself essential. No one else knows how everything works." Riley pauses, eyes catching on something over his shoulder. Barely audibly, she adds, "An asshole and a control freak." He doesn’t need to turn around to know she’s looking at Conrad, not when she has a white-knuckled grip on Harley’s leash.

"So if we eliminate him…"

Riley nods in understanding. He’s controlling everything in an attempt to rise through the rankings and seize power. So if they eliminate Conrad, the whole organization may very well come tumbling down in his wake.

Now they just have to figure out how the hell to accomplish that.

"What if we help him?" Riley suggests, reading Mac’s mind.

"What?"

"We've spent all this time looking for the weakest link, but maybe…maybe we need to attach ourselves to the strongest one." A stray curl falls in Riley's face, and as she brushes it behind her ear, Mac absentmindedly wishes his fingers were brushing it back instead. Riley continues, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we should help him become more powerful than he already is. That way, we can do as much damage as possible when we take him out."

A man they don't know walks by, and Mac nods in greeting. Waiting for the man to move out of earshot, Mac drops to one knee, giving Harley a good scratch. She wags her tail and opens her mouth in a smile, clearly enjoying the attention. When the coast is clear again, Mac says, "You just made this op so much longer, but I think you're right."

Riley snorts. "What, is there somewhere else you need to be?"

Gazing up at the woman before him, the answer is obvious. Not unless you're coming with me.

*****

In the gray hour before dawn crests over the world, Mac wakes to something tickling his nose. He exhales sharply, trying to blow it away, but the tickle persists.

His face is pressed into the nape of Riley's neck, and a deep inhale causes a few strands of her hair to go up his nostrils. Reaching up to brush Riley’s hair out of his face, he hesitates right before his calloused fingers brush her skin, afraid that even the barest touch will shatter the moment. As soon as Riley wakes, he'll have to hide behind his mask of indifference, and Mac isn't ready to do that yet.

For as long as he dares, Mac allows himself to imagine what it would be like to wake up with Riley for real, in his own home. He sees her curled in his bed, sheets pulled up to her chin, hears the soft, steady cadence of her breathing, smells the lingering traces of perfume on her skin.

Riley stirs in his arms, and the vision blurs, moving out of reach. Mac grasps for it, but it evaporates into nothingness as she settles back against him.

He shifts his focus to the very real sensation of Riley’s body tucked into his. Her back to his chest, his leg slotted between hers, her ass pressed against his—

Shit.

Mac jerks backward, trying to put as much space between them as possible before Riley wakes and realizes just what she scooted back against.

Except, in his haste, Mac doesn’t realize there’s a third party present until his foot slams into the small, warm body lying at the foot of the bed. Guilt washes over him at Harley’s ensuing yelp.

Awake, Riley mumbles, “Did you just kick the dog?”

“It was an accident!” Mac insists, sitting up. He turns his attention to Harley. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You can come back if you want.” He pats the bed in a way he hopes is reassuring, but Harley merely eyes him with suspicion before slinking out of the room.

“I can’t believe you kicked the dog,” Riley says, still half-asleep. “She finally slept with us, and you betrayed her.”

“I told you it was an accident!”

“Betrayal.”

Mac rakes a hand through his hair. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope.” Riley sighs, rolling back to her side of the bed, and Mac isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Or maybe a little bit of both. “You better go apologize.”

Mac scoffs. “And let you take over the entire bed while I’m gone? I don’t think so.”

And there it is. The closest they’ve come to acknowledging the evolution of their bed-sharing habits. Particularly the newfound lack of sticking to their respective sides. If he’s being honest with himself, Mac doesn’t know where to go from here. He wants to see it as a sign of things changing between them. Obviously Riley is aware of their precarious positioning, but based on her casual relocation, she doesn’t see this any differently than the dozens of times they’ve slept squished in a small space together in the past. Whether she’s aware of the other thing, she doesn’t let on.

“Your funeral,” Riley says, pulling Mac out of his head.

Right.

The dog.

The dog whose forgiveness he needs to earn via extra breakfast. Maybe extra dinner too.

Sighing, Mac goes after her, cursing his inability to get things right with either of the females in this house.

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

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#beth writes #looking through a window au #macgyver #macriley #angus macgyver #riley davis

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memes-in-a-half-shell · 3 years

Text

Business AU - Working Late, Part 6

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

Just two cuties learning more about eachother ooohhh u___u 💜

Help, I’m getting too involved in this fic fsdfhsjfbsd

They had agreed to meet at Vee’s apartment building at around 6:30-7:00pm, exchanging phone numbers for easier communication. They had yet to know where they’d spend the evening on this Saturday, but knowing New York was full of surprises, it wouldn’t be hard to find something to do.

Vee was franctically moving back and forth from her bedroom to the bathroom, trying so hard to find anything good to wear. ... They should’ve decided on an activity, dammit. Now she didn’t know if it would be wiser to wear a dress, or something more casual? As her hands were shovelling through clothes in her closet, she heard her phone beep to life, signaling a notification. Glancing at the time, it was barely over 6pm. It was a text from Donnie, to which she couldn’t help raising a brow:

Her lips were pursed in a thin line, answering anyway:

She put her phone away. He wasn’t supposed to get here in at least thirty minutes to an hour, so there was no rush.

*BZZZZT*

She jumped when the door buzzer rang. Her frown was formed in an instant, running to her intercom and cracking it to life.

“Yes?”

“I was curious ‘cause I wanted to come up and see where you live!” responded Donnie’s voice through the intercom.

“What are you doing here? It’s only 6pm!”

“I figured it’d be a good excuse to come up to your place.”

“Donatello you are one sneaky bastard,” sighed Vee. “... Alright, come on up.”

As soon as she unlocked the main entrance downstair, that’s when she realized that she was still only in her underwear. She panicked for a couple of seconds, allowing some time for him to enter the building, then running to her room and grabbing any pieces of clothing she could find; a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. Almost falling in her rush, she then rushed to her entrance, opening the door in a hurry. She met face to face with Donnie, the mutant’s hand in a motion to knock, but promptly stopped. His eyes were wide as he noticed her a panting mess.

“... I guess it wasn’t such a good idea afterall,” he chuckled.

“Let’s just say you took me by surprise. I still have yet to decide what I’m gonna wear.”

She moved, gesturing him to come in. As he passed by, she glanced at his look. He was rather casual for the occasion; a pair of blue jeans and a black shirt, not entirely buttoned at the top, giving a slight sight to his plastron.

“Looking at you, now I finally have a better idea of what to wear,” she pointed out. “At least that’s good.”

As she walked to him, she vaguely gestured the surroundings: “Welcome to my oversized closet. One bedroom, one bathroom, the rest is the living space connected to the kitchen. ... This must look like a tiny shithole to you.”

Donnie tsked: “Don’t be so hard on this place, it has its charms! I think it looks nice. ... It suits you in terms of taste.”

“Most of the furniture is second-hand, which is cheaper most of the time,” added Vee, going towards her bedroom. “I wouldn’t say it’s one hundred percent my taste, but at least it fills the space. ... This place is tiny, but good enough for me.”

As she was about to close her door, she did peak back at Donnie, flashing him a smile: “Make yourself at home, I’ll be ready in no time.”

The terrapin took that as an invitation to look around the place. To be frank, he did arrive earlier in order to do such thing. He always thought that a person’s environment could tell so much about them. Overall the place was tidy, with the exception of a few books here and there and some papers and pencils layed on a coffee table. She had a bookshelf completely filled, books about various subjects neatly placed and organized. An electric piano was resting against a wall, various partitions showing on a music stand close by. There were some art and pictures decorating the space - but none were showing people, even relatives if any... He also noticed a faint smell of coffee in the air, judging that she must have brewed some earlier. There was this sense of coziness, something only a small and well-thought apartment could give, and it definitely did suit her well.

Vee’s bedroom door opened, revealing the woman in much proper clothes. Both smiled, Vee playfully adding:

“I figured I’d bring the curse back.”

She had also opted for jeans, her upper body adorning a black tank top and a black blazer over it.

“At least you have more style than me,” added the turtle.

“Nonsense,” Vee scolded in a fake tone, giving a playful slap on his arm as she passed by, going to the kitchen area. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

She got two glasses out of a cupboard, showing them to Donnie: ‘‘Water? ... I don’t have anything else fancy to drink.”

“Water is good,” he smiled, leaning against the kitchen island.

He really didn’t know why, but looking at her go in her own environment was making him happy. It felt much more intimate to see her at ease and relaxed...

“So, what did you have in mind for this evening?” she asked, setting the glasses down and offering one to him.

He took a sip, looking pensive for a moment.

“We can definitely grab a quick bite somewhere, theeennnn...” He looked around quickly, then pointing the piano. “You like music? What genre?”

Vee shrugged: “Pretty much anything, but I do have a preference for classical and jazz. Why?”

“We could definitely drop at a jazz club then! I know some interesting places in Midtown.”

“I’m down for it then, monsieur,” smirked the woman.

***

They had opted first to go to a small local café, indulging themselves to some coffee and simple food. There was no need to be fancy-pantsy, prefering the intimacy and coziness of this small place. To be frank, it was the perfect setting for some casual conversation, finally taking the time to get to know eachother further more.

To quench Donnie’s curiosity, Vee explained why she moved to New York city. She felt like she had been facing a wall for too long back in Montréal. A lot of things had gone wrong in her personal life, her career seemed to go nowhere. All she wanted at some point was to run away. Start from scratch and be on her own... She had visited New York a couple of times before and had been in love with the city ever since. It only felt natural that she’d want to move there - knowing big cities were at least familiar to her, yet she could experience new things out of it. Her family had been furious about her choices, but she chose to stick to it and moved without any help. She found her apartment and her job all by herself. She handled all sorts of paperwork herself regarding her move. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to prove herself that she could make such a huge leap in her life.

As for Donnie, without going into much details, he explained how the Hamato Enterprise came to be. After his father’s death, he and his brothers joined forces and decided to reveal themselves to the world - with the help of some key figures in the city. Their knowledge of New York and its pulse proved to be a tremendous help for developping tactics and plans to advance the city’s security and good life of its people. It was still not perfect - how could it ever truly be anyway? - but the turtles had New York and its denizens at heart, and they would do anything to safeguard it. They had attracted good and bad attention on them over the years, but that never distracted them from their goals to bring out the best out of this city.

Vee could admire the intentions, although she did raise concerns in regards to judging what could be “best” for the city. There were too many variables that would never allow a perfect “cookie-cutter” plan for peace. Donnie was well aware of that and it was something he had personally raised to his brother Leonardo - who was mostly in charge of security matters. Sacrifices had to be made at times for the people’s sake, but at least the four brothers’ different points of view helped painting various scenarios into shades of grey, rather than in a fully black and white picture.

Done with their meal, the duo proceeded towards Midtown. The evening was warm and the streets colorful. Energy and life were coursing through every corners of the city, truly reminding that New York was indeed the city that never sleeps. They found solace in a jazz club inbetween other venues. There was already a good crowd seated there, so they both found their place towards the back of the room, although they still got a nice view on the stage. A band was already playing, setting a smooth ambiance to the scene. After they ordered some drinks to their table, Vee made herself more comfortable as she removed her blazer, revealing her tank top, as well as the tattoo adorning her upper left chest part.

“Oh nice,” started Donnie as he took a better look at it. “I did notice your tattoo by some occasions, but it’s the first I’m seeing it fully!”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s starting to get hot in here.”

“No need to be sorry for anything, I enjoy the sight,” winked the terrapin. “How many tattoos do you have?”

“Let’s see...,” quickly pondered the woman. She quickly gestured or tapped whichever part she was mentionning afterward: “One at each legs - ankle level. Both wrists, on the insides. Inner left forearm. On the ring finger of my right hand. Behind my right shoulder. Do I need to still go on?”

“I’m guessing you want more of them?”

“Oh absolutely,” smiled Vee. “Hopefully I can get both my arms fully covered at some point.”

“I could probably help with that.”

The woman couldn’t help her small frown, slightly curious.

“How so?”

“I know how to tattoo! I did my brothers’ tattoos.”

She hummed in approval, her eyes wide with interest, as well as lightly tapping his nearby forearm by absolute delight.

“Well, well, well. Have I known, I would have asked for that instead of a date!”

“Oh come on, is this evening going so bad right now?” teased Donnie.

“I’m joking,” reassured Vee, her smile soft. “I’m having a really nice time so far.”

Her hand remained on his arm, lightly stroking his scales. Her eyes drifted back to the scene, watching the musicians play. She rarely had the time to watch any live performances nowadays, so this experience was most definitely welcomed this evening.

“I’ll never get tired of music...,” she started dreamily. “It’s been my first real passion and it might forever be so.”

“I suspect you play the piano, since I’ve seen one back at your place,” inquired Donnie.

“I’ve been learning it by myself for so many years now. My main instrument though is the Alto Saxophone and I’ve been singing as well. I do compose in my spare time too.”

“I’m curious about all of that now. When can I hear one of your masterpieces?”

She squinted her eyes in amusement as she glanced back at the turtle.

“In due time, dear. But for now let’s enjoy the music already available to us.”

In answer, Donnie simply moved his arm so his hand could rightfully hold Vee’s, their fingers interlacing - threes and fives. They spent the whole show like this, forever enjoying eachother’s presence. How could this evening be even better than this?

***

“I still can’t believe that last band that played. I’ve never heard a saxophone squeak so much in one performance. It was so bad!” laughed Vee.

“You should’ve gone up on stage and steal the show. That would’ve been fun,” teased Donnie.

“Oh no, no, no!” quickly replied the woman. “This city is not ready yet to hear my talent.”

Her tipsy state did bring more fun into the conversation, Vee holding onto Donnie’s arm as they were heading toward’s her apartment building. She still had all her mind, but her mood was light and happier than usual, definitely on a cloud. As they stopped to the main entrance’s door, Vee couldn’t help tracing a finger over the visible parts of the mutant’s plastron.

“... Wanna come upstair for another glass of water?” she asked.

Donnie showed half of a smile, slightly shaking his head.

“No, I’m good. ... I don’t think it’d be a good idea to go up with you.”

“How so? I’m bad company?”

“No, you’re an excellent one, in fact....”

A shiver passed through Vee as she felt his hand at the small of her back, keeping her close.

“... J’ai beaucoup aimé ce temps passé avec toi (I really liked that time spent with you),” he said, his other hand lovingly cupping her cheek.

Vee couldn’t help her grin, leaning into his touch.

“Not bad. You’re not that much of a lost cause with French after all.”

“Let’s just say you’re inspiring me, all of a sudden.”

A quiet chuckle left Vee: “Monsieur Donatello, vous m’en laissez bouche bée (mister Donatello, you’re leaving me speechless).”

They couldn’t stop reading one another, ever leaning so close...

“... I could leave you even more speechless,” murmured the mutant.

In a joined, yet tender motion, it didn’t take long for their lips to meet, Vee helping herself by standing at the tip of her toes. It simply felt so natural... An overdued resolution that was only bound to happen. It was both brief and taking forever, the feeling sending fireworks through them both. They kept close as the kiss ended, Vee’s blush way apparent as she couldn’t stop smiling.

“Well, that’s one good way to end the night,” she said lovingly.

“I wanted to do that for quite some time now...”

“I won’t say no to a second serving, good sir.”

That amused Donnie, indulging himself to a second sweet kiss. He didn’t want to rush anything, keeping it quite simple for the moment. Oh but how did it make him crave for so much more... After they parted once more, Donnie knew he had to leave. They had taken some good steps together, but right now they needed to halt that race... as good as it felt.

“Goodnight, Vee...” he cooed, feeling enamored.

“Goodnight, Donnie. I’ll dream of you...,” sweetly added Vee.

“Then I shall meet you in mine as well.”

It’d be quite pleasant, indeed.

((Part 7))

#it's-a-moi #business au #the usual sorry for any mistakes #IT'S SMOOCHING TIME

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