#(accidentally posted this before it was done... hope all the links work!!) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ambrozjas · 11 months ago

Text

the gang on valentine’s day ꨄ︎

the outsiders x reader

✧˖*°࿐ notes ᰔᩚ

eeee !! i love valentine’s day!! this took me all day and was written w/ much love (and rewritten because i accidentally posted it on my alt), so i hope you guys enjoy it 💕

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

lmk if i missed anything !! i think it’s pretty okay so far

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ DARRY is such a softie on valentines omg

❥ i cant stop imagining you waking up to darry making you breakfast that he got up extra early for you just to make so you two could eat alone

❥ because darry’s so busy with his job, you’ll probably have to wait til after valentine’s day for more gifts?

❥ don’t get me wrong, he’ll make you breakfast, wake you up with soft kisses to your head and a soft “g’morning baby” but that’s all you’ll really get on valentine’s day

❥ he might not be all lovey dovey in front of the boys, but when you both slip into the kitchen he’ll mutter small ‘i love you’s while hugging you from behind

❥ if somebody walks in, he WILL get embarrassed and bark at them to get out while a blush dusts his cheeks

❥ you guys’ll probably head out for a cruise in his car or go to the drive-in while ponyboy and soda stay with the others

“hey.” a distant voice called out for you, a few whispers of your name and a couple of ‘hey’s before you finally broke through that thick barrier of sleep.

you peeked one eye open at darry, watching a soft smile appear on his face at your state.

“you awake?” he asked, turning his head so that he could level his face with yours. you lay on your side as you tilted your head up to meet darry’s eyes.

you made a small ‘mhm’ sound as you blinked the remaining sleep out of your eyes and took ahold of darry’s hand, calloused and rough. the warmth of it made you shiver though.

the warmth didn’t last long though, as darry’s face split into a grin and got up, jogging out of the bedroom. you heard a few clanks of the ceramic plates you had stacked in your guys’ kitchen, before you heard your boyfriend’s retreating footsteps.

your lips curled into a soft smile as you saw him walk back into the room with a small plate, the aroma of bacon and pancakes practically dancing across the room and making its way towards you. you propped yourself on one elbow as darry placed the small white plate on the nightstand next to you and once he had leaned down, you had pulled him by the collar to meet his lips in a chaste kiss.

“i’ll see you when i get off work, darlin’. maybe we can do somethin’ tomorrow.” he mumbled against your lips. you felt his lips curve upwards again as he placed another kiss against yours, smiling when you two shared another.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

❥ SODAPOP, this cheesy mofo

❥ meets you once you get off school or work, crumpled flowers in his hand that he may or may not have stolen from his neighbor’s garden, with a boyish grin on his face like he’s soo pleased with himself

❥ will definitely take you out after he’s done with work

❥ maybe’d he’d do smth the day before??? idk

❥ you guys’d probably go watch a drag race or the drive-in, maybe go to the dingo afterwards

❥ would tease and make steve feel single, even if he had a valentine

❥ writes you cheesy lil love notes in chicken scratch and sticks them on your stuff

soda beamed as he saw your car pull up to the dx and watched you get out of the car, throwing his rag on the counter and jogging to open the door.

“hey steve! you can lock up, right buddy?” he asked, tilting his head up to project his voice further.

when steve had come out of the back room, he rolled his eyes at the sight of you and soda. you had your arm linked around his, head leaning on his chest as you both looked at steve with pleading eyes.

“yeah, whatever.” steve grumbled, cleaning his oily hands with the rag that sodapop threw.

“thanks!” soda said, voice fading as he was already heading out the door with you by his side.

“that lovesick fool’s lucky ‘m such a good friend.” steve growled under his breath, annoyed as he watched you give soda a few kisses before hopping into the car outside.

“where we goin’, soda?” you asked, a wide grin still evident on your face as you looked at him.

“where d’ya wanna go?” he asked, a charming smile glued on his lips as he looked at you. gosh, you were pretty.

you shrugged. “wherever the night takes us.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

❥ PONYBOY is so CUTEEE !!

❥ whatever you do, dont imagine the rosy blush that falls on his cheeks when you catch him gazing at you

❥ and ESPECIALLY dont imagine you and pony meeting up after ponys been slipping cute awkward love letters into your locke so you see him with a sheepish smile when you give him an all knowing look

❥ AND DEFINITELY dont imagine ponyboy curtis sitting with you in class, thighs touching and ankles almost locking with each other because you guys are sitting do close, giggling and bright smiles

❥ okay i’ll stop now

❥ BUT JUST??? DO YOU SEE THE VISION??

❥ he’s the type who writes these poetic ass letters with his rushed half-cursive half-print handwriting and then gets all bashful when you bring it up

you heard something fall on your desk. you looked up from your test paper, pencil held between your teeth as your eyes fell on the small yellow folded sticky note.

you looked at the teacher who was at her desk, checking her nails and unbothered, and grabbed the note, unfolded it to unveil a myriad of hearts surrounding a message in neat handwriting.

“i believe in you.” the words read, you smiled to yourself and threw a small glance at ponyboy behind you, who was averting your eyes shyly.

you mouthed a silent, ‘thanks pony’ and turned back to your paper, tapping the pencil on the desk softly as you thought up another answer, circling a letter.

you bit your lip as your eyes crinkled and a smile took over your face, thinking back to ponyboy’s note.

yeah, you thought, thanks pony.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

❥ oh, JOHNNY

❥ he is so WHIPPED

❥ hes just a lil dude, shuffling his feet awkwardly as he holds out some orchids which he also probably stole from his neighbors

❥ n when you give him a kiss on the cheek it’s literally like he short circuits 😭😭

❥ probably has some chocolates that dallas stole him at the store

❥ hes so cute omg 😭

you looked out of the diner window, swiping a fry into the ketchup on your plate and bringing to your mouth in the process.

the sun blinded you a bit as you looked off into the horizon, into the multitude of cars in the parking lot and houses across the way. but to johnny, you looked absolutely ethereal.

the way the sun gave your face a golden hue made you look like a deity come into earth, he had half a mind to start worshipping you right now in the middle of the diner booth.

“y’wanna get outta here?” you asked, turning your head to face johnny. “we could go to th’a lot ‘n watch the sunset?”

blinking, johnny had snapped out of it. he stammered as his mind tried its hardest to concoct a response.

but seeing you smile as you saw him in this state, he sighed and started over.

“yeah,” johnny said, “let’s go.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

❥ DALLAS is very stubborn, but is also very passionate when he loves somebody

❥ his way of love is like beating somebody’s ass for talking about you and letting you clean his wounds afterwards

❥ he rarely says he loves you, but thinks it’s easier to show it with his actions than his words

❥ probably shows up at your doorstep, no warning, and spontaneously takes you out for a date

❥ it dont matter if you have homework, work, angry parents

❥ this man WILL take you out

“thought y’said you didn’t care about valentine’s.”

“i don’t.” dally said, breath evident as he sighs when he looks upon you. his hands stuffed in his pockets as he shuffled his feet.

“look c’mon, just come with me, will ya?” he asks, waving his hand around as he talked.

the corner of your lips turned upwards as you chuckled at dallas’ state. here he was, standing in front of your door on a cold night in tulsa, when just hours before he was brushing you off and saying valentine’s day was cheesy. if anybody had seen him now, they’d never believe you.

“sure, dallas. let’s go.” you took his hand and stepped out, clutching your sweater as your face hit the cold breeze. you never understood how dallas could wear leather jackets in this weather. maybe he was just too cool for everything, maybe that’s how he blended in with the weather.

he let go of your hand, which made you pout a bit, before he instead wrapped his arm around your shoulders and had a grip on the collar of your sweater.

“you’ll stretch it out, dal.”

“oh, you’ll live.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

❥ STEVE is so cute 😭😭

❥ he tries his hardest guys i swear

❥ he’s a little dumb when it comes to this stuff

❥ steve probably steals one of pony’s valentines grams or whatever, scribbles his name out, and gives it to you

❥ you guys might go see soda or go to a drag race or maybe a car show

❥ maybe he’ll even teach you bout some car stuff, whether you understand it or not 😭

“baby, look! y’see that firebird right ov’there?” he asked, pointing and ushering your body to turn towards the car. steve was practically a kid in a toy store when it came to cars. he knew them like the back of his hand.

“mhm, it’s nice, stevie.” you said, humoring your boyfriend. your feet were practically aching at this point by how long you guys were walking for.

“‘n you see that one over there, too?” glory, how much i’d kill for a car like’at.” you loved steve, but sometimes it frustrated you how oblivious he was to certain things.

as he ranted about, you leaned your head on his shoulder, clutching his arm. you tried to listen to him, really, you tried. but all you could focus on was your throbbing feet, your heels burning with every step you took as you were sure you had blisters already.

how was steve able to be walking for this long?

you tugged on the bottom of his denim vest a little bit, making him shut up and turn his head towards you. “huh?” he asked.

“my feet are gettin’ tired, hun.” you whined with pleading eyes. he stopped for a little bit, contemplating on what to do, before letting go of you. you gave him a puzzled look before he crouched down in front of you, looking over his shoulder. “hop on.” was all steve said.

you laughed a bit, not thinking he was serious.

“you said your feet was hurtin’, didn’t ya?” he asked.

“fine, fine.” you gave him one last chuckle before hopping onto his back and wrapping your arms around his neck, burrowing your head into the crook of his neck.

steve was wrapped around your finger, and you both knew that, as you pressed a soft kiss onto his cheek as a thanks.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

❥ dunno why but all i can imagine for TWO-BIT is a drive-in date

❥ you two, sharing a coke, as you both watch a movie as you’re sat in his car

❥ two’s one of those cheesy mofos who while watching the sunset or a nice movie, he’d say it’s beautiful while looking at you

❥ he’s literally my babygirl what are you on about

❥ my underrated king 🙏🙏

“hey!” he shouted for you as he found you, scanning the entire drive-in for him.

he held out a small deformed heart shaped chocolate box, probably from being accidentally sat on, with a cheesy grin on his face.

“awh, you didn’t have to.” you beamed, gently handling the box as he handed it to you.

“swiped it just for ya.” two-bit said, rocking on the balls of his feet as he awaited a kiss, pursing his lips in the process.

you giggled and placed a quick kiss on his dramatic lips, watching how he chased yours after you pulled away.

“settle down, lover boy. let’s actually watch the movie first.” you said, causing your boyfriend to frown exaggeratedly.

“c’mon baby, let’s go get a coke.” you pulled him by the collar of his leather jacket, material rough under your fingertips as you dragged him along.

and boy, did you never hear the end of it. the whole time you were in line, all you heard from two was, “please darlin’?”, “one more?”, “just on the cheek?”. a string of pleas fell from his lips so many times you had lost count.

once you two had gotten your coke and snacks for the movie, you returned to two’s car as he followed you around, dragging his feet like a sad puppy dog.

“i’ll tell you what, you sit through,” you looked up in thought as you tried to find a good estimate, “twenty minutes, and then maybe you’ll get kisses.”

“twenty minutes? that’s like.. a whole year from now!” two-bit exclaimed.

after seeing your face though, he shut up. he really wanted those kisses, even if that meant sitting through a movie while he was all antsy. so all he did, was cross his arms and pout.

it wasn’t long before he got his wish, though.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ yo so who wanna be my valentine?? 💘

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

#the outsiders x reader #the outsiders #fanfiction #x reader #darry curtis x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #johnny case x reader #dallas winston x reader #steve randle x reader #two-bit mathews x reader #valentines day #ambrozjas #kiss kiss

419 notes · View notes

luna-the-moth · 5 months ago

Text

Anon: Hello! Any chance of more on Idia x reader who does audio porn? I enjoy this posts a lot and your writing is amazing! 😳🫣

Tumblr ate this ask, but luckily I saved it in my google docs beforehand <3 Regardless, we perservere <3 thank you for the kind words Nonnie, I hope you enjoy!

Here’s a link to the prev audio porn creator! Reader x idia blurb if you haven't checked it out!

18+, gn! reader who does audio porn/asmr

I’d definitely say he’s fond of the roleplay audios the most! He appreciates the effort that’s put into acting out specific characters, and even more so if a person’s able to capture the character’s complexity and nuance!

Is also picky about sound effects, so he’s a good soundboard! (Mind, sending him entire audios may not be the most productive way of checking the realism and quality of your sound bites…Sending him individual audio clips of specific acts/sounds will be more efficient!)

Would definitely enjoy your mukbang-esque videos where you record yourself eating a meal and chatting, though! Would never admit it because he doesn’t want to expose himself as a loser who listens to his partner eat when they aren’t sharing a meal but…he is <3

He’ll protest that your soothing bf/gf/partner asmrs aren’t special to him once you’re in a relationship (he has the real deal right next to him, after all!), but if you’re away for a long time and can’t call/text, he does secretly listen to one of your softer, intimate works.

Also he may or may not have done a scan to see if anyone else on campus listens to you— keeping an eye on possible competitors is necessary!! Who knows what those freaks would do if they recognized you! QWQ

That being said, he helps a lot with your digital anonymity (letting you know if you accidentally reveal information in your audio or that there’s background noise that can be used to doxx you) and will modify your voice upon request! You’ll be as safe as can be while still being able to pursue your passions <3

Idia will also make sure to listen to your ramblefaps (audios where the speaker is masturbating) before you guys have sex for the first time…he has to be prepared!! Otherwise his poor heart wouldn’t be able to take it , , , poor thing gets sooo flustered though, especially if he can hear you using a toy. (He totally doesn’t wish it was him inside you when you use a dildo.)

On that note! I think he’d be really smug if you had an audio where you’re being pleasured by him + you cut out his audio post-editing , , , he doesn’t want his voice out there but you posting a session where he’s the one giving you an orgasm , ,, ORZ he gets soooo worked up about it once he overcomes the initial stage of embarrassment.

#idia shroud x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst smut #idia shroud #twisted wonderland #twst #moth.flutters #musings.by.lamplight #nsfvv

146 notes · View notes

uhohdad · 1 year ago

Text

EXPERIMENTAL - Konig Fic Part 2

Summary: Konig helps Researcher!Reader with a new technology they’ve been developing.

Part one: X

AO3 Link: X

Warnings: Flirting, Sexual Content, NSFW, Reader x Konig, talk of standard war stuff, Reader is a bit of a pervert. Non-con Voyeurism. Reader has anxious thoughts/low-self esteem-ish? No use of y/n, abduction, bondage, blood and injury.

Word Count: 7.2k

Reader gender/sex is incomprehensible cause I do it for the girls, the gays, and the theys

NSFW under the cut

It probably didn’t mean anything, right?

How common is your name, really? He probably was just thinking about his girlfriend or wife at home who just happens to share the same name as you, the same wife he didn’t happen to mention during your introductions - even if it would have been a really good icebreaker.

Yeah, that’s it.

It couldn’t have been about you.

Could it?

Your thoughts are spiraling now, not giving yourself the room to dissect one detail before your brain throws another at you. You still haven’t moved, wide eyes watching warm light reflect on his skin as he basks in post-orgasm bliss.

He’s still for a while, and you’re wondering if the finish had tired him out enough to lull him into a nap.

After a few minutes of watching the rise and fall of his chest, you decide the show was over and closed out of the software. There was some part of you, some part you’d hoped wouldn’t ever come to light, that decided to keep his feed connected.

You’ve crossed so many lines already. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?

You feel like you’ve ruined whatever chance you’ve had with him, violating his privacy like this. This was a man that wasn’t even comfortable showing his face, how did you think he was going to feel knowing a stranger has not only seen him fully naked but watched him jerk his cock to completion?

He doesn’t have to know. No one has to know. It’ll be our little secret and we’ll just pretend it never happened.

Yeah, you acted real casual today when you hadn’t done a horrible, awful, perverted thing. I’m sure you’ll act real casual the next time you have to look him in the eyes.

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

You rest your head on your keyboard not-so-gently, accidentally booting up an ancient mail software that was sure to kick your laptop’s fans into overdrive. An audible groan leaves your mouth.

Who knew non-consensual voyeurism would leave such a horrific feeling of guilt in the pit of your stomach?

That and the arousal that sits right underneath. Your underwear now had a wet stain from watching the show, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together as you had.

There was no way you were going to be able to focus on work now. You had been planning on staying late, but there’s no way you can analyze today’s data. Review his feed. Replay your conversations. Hear his breathing…

No, you just can’t do it right now. It’s too much.

You do a quick round of the lab, performing a sloppy iteration of your closing procedures, pack up your things, and head out for the day.

Before you do, you decide you might as well round out the horrific deed by doing one last terrible thing.

You pair your personal cell phone to the software and send yourself the erotic recording of Konig.

You’ll start fresh tomorrow, you decide.

————————————————————-

You most certainly did not start fresh tomorrow.

The next few days are a vicious cycle.

Go to work. Review Konig’s simulation footage. Fantasize. Feel guilty. Review raw data. Think about Konig touching himself. Feel aroused. Feel guilty. Rewrite codes. Go home. Watch erotic recording. Feel aroused. Get off.

Feel guilty.

You can’t help it. You’re out of control, an addict desperate to get their fix, ashamed of their actions but lacking the willpower to quit.

How are you supposed to stop thinking about him when all day at work you’re watching him fight his way through the shoot house, strong hands gripping his gun, and hearing to that laugh?

How can you go home and ignore the recording of him finishing while moaning your name?

You must have replayed it a thousand times. He moaned it like he was begging you, pleading with you. Such a powerful man choking on your name. Even after a full week had passed, it still had the power to excite you in ways you haven’t felt in ages.

Your next meeting with Konig was scheduled for today and if you had to judge solely by the feeling in your gut, you would’ve guessed you had eaten rocks for breakfast. Your brain tells you to flee and fast but your body is promised to these four walls. Your leg bounces as you pick at the fingers that beg for something to do besides type code.

You wanted to call it off. Tell Konig you weren’t feeling well and you’d try again next week. Or maybe hit the bricks entirely. Just walk out of the building and never look back. Forget about everything.

You’re reconsidering your career choices as a steady knock on the lab’s swinging door rips you from your thoughts.

Your wince before you look up, quickly plastering what you hope is a convincing smile on your face.

He catches your eyes through the glass and you notice them crinkle, unable to place an emotion to it. You’d been dreading this moment all week. Even going so far as to avoid looking at his live feed after the incident, just in case you weren’t able to feign the natural responses of hearing his recounts for the ‘first’ time. That in addition to the intrapersonal understanding that you couldn’t handle carrying anymore guilt-rocks in your stomach.

Looking him in the eyes was as hard as you imagined it to be. He pushes open the door and steps in, standing hesitantly near the entrance like he did last week. You notice he has a notepad in one hand, and it looks so comically small compared to his size. Like a giant holding a sticky note. In the other he holds your earpiece in an open palm, as if hesitant to wrap his fingers around it.

It doesn’t help that the first word that left his mouth as he entered the lab was your name. Flashbacks to his sweaty body, shuddering in pleasure as he came all over his rippling muscles grab your attention.

He had followed it up with something, but you had been too distracted to catch it. You close your eyes, touching your hand to your forehead.

You were not doing a very good job hiding your fluster.

“I’m so sorry- what’d you say?” You give a small laugh, partly to ease the tension in your chest and partly at the situation itself. It’s not funny, you know that. It’s terrible. So terribly ridiculous that you can’t help but laugh at yourself for getting yourself into this mess. Your hand follows through the rest of your hair in an effort to soothe yourself before falling back down at your side.

“Good to see you.” He repeats, tilting his head, taking just a few careful steps closer to you. His eyes dart to the side briefly before returning to you, “Is everything okay?”

You give another weak laugh, “Yeah, sorry. Just still in the zone.” You gesture vaguely at scattered papers and devices on the table. You don’t give him a chance to pry further, “How was it?”

He takes a moment to eye you carefully, and you are sure he’s about to call your bluff before he responds, “Remarkable.”

You swallow, breaking eye contact with him again. It’s always been hard for you to accept a compliment. You're hoping he doesn’t notice the warmth creeping up your cheeks, but you know you have absolutely no right to such a request after what you’ve done.

He clears his throat before he continues, “I promised you I would have feedback. It wasn’t easy.” He holds his notepad up briefly as he steps up to the table to carefully set it down along with your earpiece. You can see from across the table he’s got a few scribbled sentences spaced out on the notepad. You take note of his sloppy handwriting from across the table, before realizing he didn’t write in English.

He looks down at his notes and you’re thankful you have something to stare at that’s not Konig’s eyes or intimidating frame. You’re trying hard not to think about the body filling out his gear. You’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him naked that it’s almost strange to see him with his uniform on.

You can tell he takes a deep breath before continuing and you wonder briefly if he’s nervous about sharing his feedback, worried he will hurt your feelings. “You mentioned before that it scans objects?” The end of his sentence lifts, almost like he’s asking you a question, “I think it would be good to make sure that the user is always made aware of landmines. I’m positive it will save lives.”

“Yes, absolutely. That’s a great idea.” You nod as you jot his ideas down on your laptop, a reminder to update your code.

You’re happy to be talking shop. Even happier to be talking about defensive designs instead of offensive ones.

The way he rubs his bicep with his opposing hand triggers a realization. You finally look at his eyes, his still staring down at his notes, and watch him for a moment.

The idea didn’t come from thin air.

You wonder what he saw, what traumatic memories are being replayed behind the downcast eyes to inspire such an idea.

You feel an ache in your chest for him, the desire to alienate his discomfort but unequipped to do so. Instead you look at him, your eyes swollen with sympathy and the corner of your mouth pinched in a frown.

He takes a moment before looking back up at you. He notices your warped expression but misinterprets it, “Am I overstepping?”

Your voice is low and you press a hand to your heart, “No, Konig, not at all. This is very helpful.” You’re not sure what else to say to him. What do you say to a man haunted by the violence he’s witnessed?

The only thing you can do is make sure it doesn’t happen again.

You’re not working for the government anymore, you decided. You’re going to work for Konig. To tailor your device with the purpose to save and protect him.

So you stick to the topic at hand. “Any other ideas?” You ask, voice still soft with empathy as you glance down at the notes written in German.

“Uh,” He clears his throat again and touches the back of his neck over his hood, the fabric pulling a bit on the front, “Sometimes when we’re in the heat of things, I can’t always get to my remote.” He gestured to the band on his wrist. “Do you think it would be possible to have voice command?”

Your brain’s mulling over the possibility. You’re surprised you haven’t thought of it yet. You could eliminate the remote entirely, you’re sure your supervisor will be elated with the big savings on material costs. The earpiece already has a microphone for the comm, it wouldn’t be hard for you to configure it to an additional feature.

“Absolutely, voice control. That’s clever.” Your brain is already running with alternatives to the wrist remote as you type his ideas, “Do you go on a lot of missions that require stealth?” It’s easier to make eye contact with him when you’re discussing work. He nods, and you continue, “In addition to voice command, I could also add hand controls, able to identify and respond to the signal you give it - totally silent.” You tap your fingers on the table twice, “The only draw I can think of is having to memorize control signals.”

He thinks it over for a moment and shifts in his spot, “That’s even better.”

“I think it’ll be best to have both.” Your keyboard clicks under your fingers as you enter the ideas coming to you faster than you can get them down.

This is great. I’m not even thinking about-

Stop it.

“These are great, Konig, really. Anything else?”

Your encouragement makes him look away. You follow his stare as it darts to the side and then down to his notes. He places one hand on the table next to the notepad as he leans his weight onto it.

You briefly picture yourself between him and the table, his arm pinning you in as he towers over you, hunched to watch you like you’re his prey, chests so close they’re almost touching.

You quickly push the thought to the side, moving your attention back to your laptop. The only way to survive this meeting is to repress.

Repress your memories of what he looks like with his cock in his hand, arching his hips into the thrusts. Repress the sound of his moans and your name echoing clearly in your brain. Repress the guilt from the breach of privacy to the highest degree.

Please, just until we get through this.

You close your eyes and take a breath to collect yourself while he’s not looking.

He’s got other things written on the notepad, you’re sure. Unless the two ideas he’d already pitched managed to take up the whole page. “No.”

Your brows furrow, the question leaving your mouth without thought, “You’re sure?”

He pauses. You can tell he’s sitting on a thought, but you don’t know what.

“It’s okay. Like I said, it’s just a prototype. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

He straightens his posture before he speaks, “No. That was all I could think of.” He swallows, “If you feel I didn’t make good on my promise, I can fix it.”

“No, no!” You say with urgency, a hand shaking in his direction, “Those ideas you gave me were perfect. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t holding back on me.” A weak laugh escapes you. “I can’t stress how helpful this has been. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

Konig looks at you, those intimidating eyes staring at you from across the table. You wish you could see his face, hoping it would give some insight on what was going through his head. Even if you could you don’t think you’d be able to maintain eye contact.

He knows.

No, he doesn’t, shut up.

“I’ll keep thinking.” He says definitively, like he’s trying to right a wrong.

“You’ve only had it for a week,” you reassure, “Besides, you’ve given me plenty to work with.” You force a smile at him, not even caring how it’s coming off because you’re just hoping not to choke on the tension suffocating the room. You wonder if he feels it too, or if it’s all in your head.

He nods, and you look to your laptop in a futile attempt to thwart the dread suddenly pooling in your stomach. You’re reminded of what you’ve done when he crosses his arms, and your eyes are drawn to the same bicep on the arm that he used to pleasure himself. You’re picturing how it looks under his uniform, comparing it to your filthy reference. Your heart quickens and you can’t help but take in his build, even from across the long lab table. You feel extra small sitting on your stool while he stands, arms still crossed, staring.

The air between you two is definitely weird. Him getting off to probably-not-you and you watching but him not knowing that you know will certainly fill the room with a tension unlike any other.

These drawn-out silences are smothering you, not knowing what goes on being his hood.

He looks disappointed in you.

He knows.

“How can I help you in the meantime?”

You can’t help but breathe a small sigh of relief. You were planning on taking him back out to shoot house, running a few more simulations, and having him give feedback on a few more overlays.

You scrap that plan, looking forward to expanding on his ideas while your synapses are still firing.

“Well, here’s my thoughts so far. Landmine identification, the coding for that will be easy. The device already has the scanning capability for obscured objects. All I have to do is enable the specific object for full-time recognition. The hard part will be testing. I’ll have to meet with weapons development to develop prop landmines for simulation.”

You glance at the notes on your laptop, “Voice control - easy. Mic’s already installed and all I would have to do is add speech-to-text recognition, repurpose the wrist control coding, and then…testing.” Your hand finds the side of your face as you think it over, “Well, I may need to sample voice lines from you and a couple of your friends…” You loosely gesture with the same hand as you continue, “But there may be workarounds to that. Put a pin in that.” You’re on a roll now, “Now the hand controls - that might be more complicated. I’m thinking I’ll have to start fresh with the hardware.” You look up, “Then again… it already has the scanning capacity. I could probably just teach the current model with software alone. But the coding will take some time to figure out.”

Your eyes find him again. He’s staring and as per usual you can’t decipher it.

“Y’know,” you continue with a smile, “You could help me come up with hand signals?”

He nods.

He doesn’t give you much to work with, does he?

“I’ll need references of your hands. To teach the AI, is that okay?”

He looks down in a way that makes you feel so, so ashamed. If he is hesitant about recordings of just his gloved hands, how would he feel if he found out about what you did? About the video living on your phone?

After a moment he looks back up at you, “I’ll do it.” His voice is stern as usual, always treating everything with importance, with determination.

You give him another shaky smile, “Might be awhile. Wanna sit?”

He pulls up a stool to his end of the table and you instruct him to put his earpiece on as you return to your software on the laptop, trying not to trigger the memory of the last time you watched his feed. You pretend to resync your devices, glad he can’t see your screen. A wave of shame washes over you.

You’re both collaborating for some time, you offering a prompt and him stiffly coming up with a corresponding hand command. You supervise his feed, having him tilt his hands so the AI has references from multiple angles.

The rest of the meeting is professional and you manage to steady your obsessive thoughts as best you can. It’s hard to observe his hands and not think about the video, about what you watched those same hands do.

About how those hands would feel mapping all of the curves of your body.

How they would feel gripping onto your hips as you rode him.

How they would feel sneaking up your thighs, teasing you.

Somehow, you make it.

Once you decide you’ve covered enough references, Konig heads out, and you hope to continue staving off your thoughts by wasting no time on incorporating his ideas into your design. You’re hoping to have a least one rough draft done before next week’s meeting, so you plan on hunkering down and forfeit your Friday night to work overtime.

—————————————————————-

It’s late in the evening, you can tell by how your eyes are burning, strained from staring at your bright screen. You don’t bother to check the actual time. It would just bum you out. Spending your Friday night working. Not that you would have been doing anything partially exciting if you hadn’t. You probably would have just spent your evening analyzing footage anyway, just of a more perverted genre.

When you finally call it quits, the base is barren. Everyone’s gone home or retired to their quarters by now. It’s quiet after the base door shuts behind you, automatic locks clicking into place.

You’re feeling better after today’s meeting with Konig. Somewhere in the previous week you’d convinced yourself that he knew, that at any moment he was going to report you, and at any moment security would bust in the lab to escort you out.

Seeing him again, even though you couldn’t always figure out what he was thinking, reassured you that he hadn’t somehow telepathically figured out your terrible deed. You don’t think he would have bothered to keep helping you, or even be able to look at you without disgust if he did know.

The meeting also re-sparked your feelings of arousal and excitement. The knot in your lower abdomen made its presence known again. So much more desirable than the spiraling guilt. You’ve come to lean into the highs, enjoying it while you can, knowing soon you’ll be feeling nauseous at the thought of yourself.

You don’t know how much longer you can take the rollercoaster. This week has been exhausting. You can’t believe you’ve allowed this man to root himself into your life, seeping into every facet.

Career, personal, sexual, and - well, you’re still in denial about the romantic feelings - but it’s incredibly impressive how this man was capable of fucking your entire life up for the small price of a couple of hours and a few exchanged words.

When you finally get to the privacy of your home, you let out an audible groan. Loud enough to carry but quiet enough to not disturb the neighbors. You just needed to let something out, it was getting frustrating.

You didn’t want to think anymore, you didn’t want to think!

“Long day at work?”

You freeze, and the sound of heavy footsteps fill your ears. Two armed soldiers with fully equipped gear stride from the depth of your home, meeting you at the entrance.

The sight of them alone is enough to intimidate you. You instinctively back against the locked door, your trunk obscuring a hand moving towards the doorknob.

“Tsk, tsk. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”The taller of the two soldiers wears a black balaclava with a skull stitched in, his unimpressed stare drilling into you. You hear a click, and your wide eyes lock on to the gun in his hands, pointing right at your core.

You slowly release the doorknob, raising your shaking hands so they could see your palms.

“That’s good babe,” The other soldier speaks, but you’re too busy staring down the barrel of the gun to worry about it.

“I have to admit I’m a little upset with you,” Skull-face, as you appropriately nicknamed him, speaks as his eyes bore into you, “You kept us waiting a long time.”

He’s got some sort of thick accent laced into his grave voice, they both do, actually, but you’re too busy trying not to piss your pants to be able to place the region of origin.

A lump forms in your throat and you don’t think you‘ve taken a breath since you heard the unfamiliar voice in your home.

It’s violating. Them being here. Where you go after a long day of work to relax. Where you eat, sleep, shower, and just be.

How dare they defile and taint your safe place, where you hide away and pretend the exhausting world around you doesn’t exist?

You’re stuck, unsure of your next move and paralyzed with fear.

“We think you have something we want.”

You’re not sure what they mean, but you nod in compliance anyway. Not much you can say no to against two heavily armed men. You finally break your gaze away from the gun and take turns making frightful eye contact with them. You speak after a failed attempt of swallowing your fear, voice soft and broken, “Take it.”

They exchange a knowing glance with each other, the man with his face exposed bears an irritatingly smug grin.

Skull-face approaches you threateningly, sending fear down your spine and making your skin crawl as you push yourself further into the door. He leaves no room for pleas as he flips his gun around, the stock coming down on your forehead with enough force to knock you out cold.

————————————————————-

Your splitting headache was the first thing you registered when you came to. You can’t seem to concentrate, the fog in your brain so extreme your thoughts are incoherent. You let out a meek whimper as you attempt to open your eyes, the lights in the room stunning you and intensifying the throbbing pain in your skull. You wince, closing your eyes again to block it out.

A few moments pass - and the next thing you notice is the dryness in your mouth, unable to manage a swallow from the dehydration.

Water.

The only intelligible thought you’ve had after registering your discomfort, the instinctual desire stronger than the dizzy haze clouding your brain.

You lift your head, trying to move but your weakened muscles fail you.

Your muscles are weak, yes, but what’s really keeping you in place are the restraints.

You wince again, eyes scrunched to block out the brutal light as you tug to confirm you’re secured. Your wrists were bound behind you, your shoulders overextending around the back of the chair you were planted on. Your ankles bound to either leg of the chair. There’s another restraint wrapping under your arms and around the back of the chair, keeping your upper half upright. There’s a rashy burn underneath the coarse ropes that dug into your skin as your unconscious body leaned into it.

You let out another whimper from the back of your coarse throat. While you weren’t alert, every instinct within you notified you of the danger you were in.

Gotta move.

You try to squint one eye, but it still doesn’t save you from the flash intensity of your headache. Your eyes are stinging on top of it and you realize you’re partially blinded, vision blurred and doubled, stained red with your own blood.

You grit your teach, determined to figure out where you are. You try to concentrate your vision but to no avail.

Even so, you can tell you’re not at home, and you’re not on base.

Once you make your discovery, one that expended what little willpower you had, your eyes clench back shut, desperate to alleviate the migraine.

A secondary location, you thought to yourself through the pain, I’m fucked.

You can’t hear anything, the ringing in your ears deafening you.

You let out one more defeated whine before resting your chin on your chest, pinching your eyes closed.

You have no idea how long you drift in and out of consciousness for. During the brief moments you come to, you’re so disoriented you can’t make sense of your thoughts, and that coupled with the debilitating pain in your head is unnerving enough to make you cry tears of pure confusion.

It’s your neck snapping back to follow the hair yanking on your scalp that jolts you awake, and try to open your eyes to find the threat but they’re still not working as they should. Underneath the debilitating ringing, you can hear the sound of muffled male voices, unable to make out what they’re saying.

You gave up.

You were wounded & trapped, and in nature that meant a death sentence. You were in no shape to properly defend yourself. Couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

You were as done as the toast made from your own designs.

After wincing, your eyes screwed shut, you go limp and give in to the man physically controlling you like a sadistic puppeteer.

The muffled voices are louder, you still can’t make out their words but you can tell they’re having some sort of argument. They’re yelling at each other, and your scalp becomes collateral as the one tightens his grip on your hair to match his escalated volume

He’s right in your ear now and it’s not helping with the headache.

Just hurry it up, You manage through the haze, just hurry it up and put me out of my misery.

He throws your head forward to the position it was in before, slumped over as much as the ropes would allow with your chin pointed to the ground. The force rattles your skull in a way that makes you see a searing white behind your eyelids. What little water you had left in you was escaping through your swollen eyes lids and down tear-stained cheeks.

Just kill me, please.

——————————————————-

When you come to again, you’re no longer sitting. You’re flat on your back. Your neck secured so your head is in line with your spine. Your headache takes the front stage but the pain has noticeably subsided. You try to open your eyes again, but the lights above you are still excruciating.

You let out a low moan and shut your eyes again.

Your ears still ring, but a good portion of your hearing has returned to you. You hear your name, followed by, “are you awake?”

You grunt in response, unable to form sentences.

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

You wince, trying to shake your head but unable. Instead, you grunt again before parting your lips. You tried to say, “Lights,” but your voice is so hoarse it comes out broken and cracked.

“What is it?”

You try and clear your throat, putting all your power into your strained voice, “Lights.”

They understand, and while you still can’t hear the flick of the switch, you can tell from behind your eyelids they’ve been shut off.

You try to mutter a “Thank you,” but give up a quarter of the way through.

You slowly open your eyes, still burning but blood wiped away from them. Your vision is still blurry, but no longer doubled.

“Do you remember what happened?”

You try to shake your head, but can’t. So you force a weak, “No.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“Do you know what today’s date is?”

You just grunt, closing your eyes again. You didn’t know the answer but you were too fed up with the questions to respond.

“Can you see?”

You grunt again.

“Okay, how ‘bout this? Can you wiggle your fingers for me?”

You try to lift your arm in the direction of the voice but your action is cut short, your arm jerked still by a restraint on your wrist. You open and close your fingers slowly at the maximum range the restraint will allow.

“How ‘bout your toes?”

Your toes move slightly, your calves aching at even such a mild movement.

“Good, thank you. How’s the hearing?”

Kill me or leave me alone, you think.

You eventually freeze the owner of voice out, finally leaving you alone to rest.

The next few days are a miserable, confusing blur. Somewhere along the way you’re informed you’re in medical, being treated for your extreme concussion. No skull fracture, thankfully, but they suspect the bruising is severe if it was enough to knock you unconscious.

The concussion had scrambled you good, and you were not nearly as sharp as you usually are.

It took you a whole five days, not that you could keep track of the passing time, before you realized that you were not at medical on your base.

You were in medical, restrained to a hospital bed-

in enemy care.

————————————————————

There was nothing you could do. Restrained to your bed, sedated with painkillers when they thought you were becoming too active.

“To help you rest.” They told you, but you couldn't trust a word that came out of their mouths.

Medics are supposed to be neutral, bound to an ethical code to heal the injured, enemy or not. That didn’t stop some medics from harboring grudges after years of patching up their own soldier’s brutal wounds of war.

The next time the medicine wears off for a long amount of time, with no medics in sight, you conveniently get visitors, the soldiers that had visited you in your home.

The events had been beaten out of you, but the traumatic event had seeped somewhere deeper into your psyche, and you knew deep down you were in trouble at the mere sight of them.

Skull-face especially, you don’t know how or why, but your intuition tells you he’s responsible for this. “Ready to answer some questions? Or do you need me to put you back to sleep?”

You can tell by the sharp edge in his voice he doesn’t mean the painkillers.

“Maybe I’d be able to answer your questions if you hadn’t given me brain damage.” Your patience is running thin, and an ember ignites a flame inside you, “Who knows what information you knocked out of me.” You stare directly into his eyes, brows furrowed, the tone of your voice inviting trouble in.

He already took everything away from you. At this point you don’t care if he puts you under. You’re begging him too. Every time you wake up you just want to go back to sleep. You don’t want to deal with it, any of it.

Skull-face makes a move to advance but the maskless soldier stops him by putting an arm out, laying it firmly across his to hold him back.

You don’t flinch, eyes now staring down the soldier with a stubbled jaw and a mohawk that ended in a widow's peak. It’s a haircut you find highly unusual for a soldier.

Your face doesn’t crack, but you squint at the pair, “What do you even want to know? I don’t even work on the field, I have no information.”

Skull-face looks down at you, “Oh, we know.” That stupid accent and that stupid mask. If you weren’t restrained you think you would have launched at him, risking it all to get a few good scratches in with your fingernails. He reaches into his pocket and your eyes widen and your brows retract at what he pulls out.

Not a weapon, no.

It’s your design, the AI-powered earpiece, and your wrist remote.

Skull-face notices the realization that sets across your face, “Awh, looks like your memory is working fine after all.”

The flame inside you laps at your skin, your features flushing with anger. A lot at Skull-face, for being such a cocky prick, but mostly at yourself.

You did this yourself. You figured your day of reckoning would come eventually. That karma would bite you in the ass, and those who are affected by your designs will stand by and laugh at your demise.

You should have just stuck with redesigning kitchen appliances.

“Why don’t you show us what you’ve been cooking up, huh? We know you’ve been busy.”

The pair share another knowing glance, Mohawk snickering at your expense.

“How did you get that?” You ask through gritted teeth, knowing there’s no way they could have gotten into the highly secured base.

“What is it?” Skull-face asks.

“It’s an intercom.” You grit, the ache in your head pulsing. You miss the painkillers.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

Mohawk steps in, “It’s okay, we all get embarrassed about our porn.”

You furrow your brows at him.

What the hell was he talking about?

Skull-face elbows him in the side, but it doesn’t keep his partner from smiling, “What is it?” He asks again.

“It’s an intercom.”

He’s getting sick of this game and he goes to step to you again but Mohawk cuts him short. “Ghost!” He says firmly.

Ghost, that was Skull-faces name. Or call sign, at least. You hated him, but you’d wished the other soldier would just let him at you. You didn’t care anymore.

Mohawk looks at you, “Look, there’s only so much I can do,” gesturing to Ghost, “Can’t we all just get along for a little bit, yeah?”

“How about you get along with deez nuts.” You laugh at your dumb joke, a laugh influenced by the daze of concussion and painkillers. You’re in hysteria, the laugh spills out and doesn’t let up. A release of built-up stress and frustration and anger that seeped out uncontrollably. Cackling at yourself for ending up in this situation. Only you would be capable of such hijinks. The laugh leaves you out of breath and with eyes full of tears. You don’t even care how it exacerbates the headache, or how you’re coming off as insane. It feels too good to let out the pent-up emotions, one way or another.

Your elation is cut short with a squeak as a gloved hand cuts harshly into your trachea. Ghost squeezes, roughly lifting you by the neck before shoving you back down on the hospital bed, his grip tighter than before. His voice is low and filled with caution, “I am getting sick of you.”

If you could breathe enough to talk, you’d tell him the feeling’s mutual. Instead you gag and sputter, which he takes as a sign that you are still getting air, and forces more of his weight onto your neck.

Your hands fail to defend yourself, the restraints holding you from fighting back. You’re getting close to blacking out, your laugh having already knock most of the wind out of you, but Mohawk pulls Ghost off of you, his hands firm on Ghost’s shoulders, “Stop! Stop.”

You involuntarily gasp, desperate for air, trying not to choke on your own spit. For a moment all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, flowing desperately to replace what Ghost restricted.

“Come on, last try.” He warns, and you can tell in your voice he means it.

You eye him carefully, still heaving for air. When you collect yourself, you speak, “I’ll show you.” You say, voice weak and breathy. You try to hold out your hand, but get stopped by the restraints.

Mohawk glances at Ghost, but Ghost keeps his stern eyes trained on you. He stays still for a moment, studying you with his arms crossed.

You roll your eyes, your chest still huffing as you reclaim your air, “Don’t trust me? Fine. I’ll walk you through it. Put the fucking bracelet on.”

He stares for another moment before taking the device from Mohawk. Must of handed it off so he could strangle you better.

He puts it on his wrist.

“Now tap the top.”

He follows your instructions, the wrist remote’s projection displaying above his wrist.

“Go ahead and open your settings.” You guide him through it, activating a few select overlays. “You got it. Now put the earpiece on.”

Ghost hesitates, looking over to his companion before he slowly reaches up underneath his balaclava, attaching the earpiece.

“Yep, and while you’re in there, go ahead and hit the button on the base.”

You watch as your design activates, displaying the transparent overlay over his eyes. He’s taken aback, unnerved by the unidentified design being so close to his vulnerable eyes.

“Ta-da!” You say sarcastically, showing off the full range of the restraints as you offer weak jazz hands. “So I’ve given you some information. Maybe you can give me a little information, yeah?”

He doesn’t say anything as he removes his hand from his mask.

“Where am I?” You ask.

“You know where you are.”

“How’d you find me?”

“We tracked your cell phone.”

You squint, “Why were you tracking my phone?” It doesn’t make any sense, there’s no way they would have been able to pin your cell phone information back to base. You don’t use it for work and there’s no way you had connected to the private Wi-Fi. It’s apples and oranges, you think.

Mohawk steps in front of Ghost and holds out his phone in your direction. It takes a moment for the image to come into view, your vision still impaired. When your eyes adjust, the screen shows you something that makes your blood turn cold.

It’s the video of Konig jerking off.

“Okay! Okay.” You wave your hands, “Just put that away, I get it.”

When you connected your phone to your software to transfer the recording of Konig, it briefly connected to your laptop.

Base internet has state-of-the-art firewalls and encryptions to prevent surveillance, hack-in, key logs.

Cell phones do not.

So they’ve been tracking you all week, and who knows what kind of information they were able to pull from your software? From your laptop, containing dozens of government secrets?

No, you think, they wouldn’t be going through the trouble of keeping me alive if they had the information on my laptop.

“What’s the matter? Embarrassed that gettin’ your rocks off caused a security breach in confidential information regarding warfare development?” Mohawk mocks.

Well, yes you were, now that he mentions it. You’re actually very worried your perverted little stunt will somehow end up forever immortalized in history books.

In the moment, though, your main concern was making sure that Konig wouldn’t find out, as you had started transmitting the device’s feed to him as soon as Ghost turned the earpiece on.

Part Three

#könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x you #konig x reader #call of duty #fic #smut #konig fic #modern warefare ii #konig #konig call of duty #könig call of duty #könig #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #experimental #x reader #uhohwriting

644 notes · View notes

quitealotofsodapop · 6 months ago

Note

Hello!! I would like to do some fanart for the ship children for each of the kids of the wukongverse except I can't really find some descriptions for some of them, like keto and rahu who I think were only mentioned once(??) Do you by chance have a link for them or a tag?

Of course! I always welcome fanart of my aus or ideas! ^♡^

I'll try to do decent descriptions for all ze babies/fan children.

Lego Monkie Kid - Shadowpeach (multiple aus);

Zàoyīn & Bàoliè/"Rumble & Savage" - tiny black-furred baby monkeys with red face masks + Macaque's dark skin. Get into a lot of havoc despite being the size of marmosets. Develop little red "tiger stripes" on their limbs and tails as they get older. Rumble has natural six-ears.

Yuebei Xing - the baby girl herself and star of the SlowBoiled au. Tiniest black furball ever. Big blue eyes (often caused by eating LBD's soul). And a white skull-shaped face marking. Grows to be much taller than either parent. Here's some super cute fanart done by @teatime-at-4 + teenage Yuebei by @soniclozdplove + an older version of her done in the LMK OC Picrew.

Jidu & Luohuo - born shortly after Yuebei, and named for the lunar nodes/phenomena making them the "Nodelets". Furs are a mix of orange and black like tortoiseshell cats. Both have four purple and orange ears. Very mischievous.

Luzhen - technically Wukong's little brother, depending on the au. Looks like a little clone of him, but with deep blue eyes. Loves music.

Ziqi - newest baby idea. Named for the last Lunar phenomena (Perigee/a supposed "shadow planet") not given a character in Journey to the South. Surprise baby. Pure black (like a shadow) with hazy purple eyes, and face marking.

+some lovely human glamour designs made by @soniclozdplovesonic for the Post Jttw Stone Egged au. I praise their work openly, they are amazing.

Monkey King Hero is Back - ReboundedHeroes;

Xiaoyun/"Little Cloud" - born from a mysterious cloud-patterned Stone Egg. Egg was damaged before hatching; causing the right eye, right ear(s), and right arm not to develop correctly. Pure white fluffy fur, like a cloud. Very small and skinny due to being born premature. Very adventurous, gives his parents frequent heart attacks.

Yǔ Sōng & Xuě Bào - Twin girls born sometime into the family's Journey across the kingdoms. Look like little toasted macaroons with six ears each, and violet eyes. Develop their baba's red-auburn when they grow up.

+Shui Lian - Adopted. AU form of the White-Faced Vixen. Due to timeline changes, the "vixen" is rather only a pre-teen kit. Has albinism and is unable to hide her fox ears and tail despite mostly-human form.

Monkey King Reborn - Fruitiedads;

Xiao Qi - Fruitie/Qi Energy reborn as a Stone Monkey egg by sheer willpower. Fur so white it look transparent. Pink skin + pink heart-shaped face marking. Big smiley baby. Looks like a fairytale prince.

Xiao Lü - reincarnation of Yuandi/Primordium created when Nüwa tricked Smokey/SWK into creating a clay figure to house the primordial soul - which became a new stone egg. Pure black fur, light skin, and no noticeable face marking as if yet. Has little grey "shoes" on the fur around her feet - hence the name.

5 False Ginseng Fruit Babies - complete and utter accident on the monkeys part. Smokey tried growing the pit from the Ginseng fruit he ate in hopes that the resulting tree could help reinvigorate the damaged FFM. Liang/LEM watered/tended to the tree while he was gone. It did not in fact bare Ginseng Fruit - but five whole newborn monkey cubs - all named after stone fruits. Current draft of the au places their "fruiting" after the Journey once everyone's come home. More detailed post here.

Lìzhī & Hǎizǎo - Twins. Born at the crux of the Journey. Accidentally delivered inside the Thunderclap Monastery. Look like miniature versions of Smokey, tiny brown furred grumpy things.

+Zhu Yu & Ku Ai / Wood Wolf Siblings - Adopted. The children of Kui Mulang/Revati/Yellow Robed Demon and the Princess Baihuaxiu. After the stray star wolf entity was captured, the Princess wanted nothing to do with her half-wolf children (given that they were conceived in less than ideal circumstances) and the human king wanted them destroyed. The pilgrims take the little werewolves into their group. Older girl and younger boy, both below the age of seven. Mix of brown and grey fur/hair like regular wolf pups. Think the kids from Wolf Children Ami & Yuki.

Monkey King 2023/Netflix - CherryandOliveStones;

Xiaoshi - created when Cherry/SWK wanted to see if he could make "another him" from clay and a pebble after he had learned the story of Nüwa. Clay Egg became a real Stone Egg. Xiaoshi has bright orange fur and light briwn face markings. Rarely doesn't have paint or ink in his fur. Link to some amazing art done by @tsa-smth.

Hǔpò & Zhēnzhū aka "The Pebbles" - natural babies. Look like little clones of their LEM (black fur with white accents) with their dear baba's green eyes.

Luzhen (yes another one) - miniature version of Cherry/SWK. Possible little brother.

New Gods series - Jackpotshipping;

Xiaozhēn - dumpster baby. Possible half-monkey demon. Fluffy brown fur, built like a dad - cus he is one. Is in his 30s demon-wise. Has kids of his own.

Unnamed newborn twins nicknamed "Two Pair" (x) - dark fur and brown eyes. One baby is an attempted changeling - but they aren't sure which one.

Meihouwang 2009 - Peachbuds;

Ketu & Rahu - a pair of twins, one a loose Stone Egg that arrived in a comet, the other an egg formed naturally between the parents (they're all grown up by now ofc). Both have a mix of silver and gold fur, like their parents when they were younger. Rahu has six ears. Here's the post you mentioned!

Smash Legends - FabledConnections;

No definite kids, but I'd imagine they'd be a mix of black and white fur. Like tuxedo cats.

No kids planned for the 1999/2000 Legends cartoon pair (yet)

Thank you so much for your interest in all of this - I try to keep all these ideas under the tag #jttw inspo fan children when I can. If you decide to make fanart for any of these babies (or the parents), make sure to @ me so I can see!

86 notes · View notes

penvisions · 6 months ago

Text

one fish, two fish {chapter 2}

Pairing: Local! Frankie Morales x Transplant! Reader

Summary: Reaching out and another chance encounter undoes the wonderful night you shared with Frankie. But maybe a chance encounter with his friend from the bar can undo all that...

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical bad luck, angst, unlucky encounters, misunderstandings, reader gets ghosted, then frankie gets ghosted, feelings of inadequacy, recovery, ptsd symptoms, past drug use, na meeting setting, conversations with a sponsor, a lot of feelings, reader has imposter syndrome, rude people, entitlement, workplace politics, degrading language, reader has a callsign nickname but no assigned name, lemme know if i missed any (nicely) please!

A/N: kind of scared to post this, i know i have other fics that are 'due for' an update but inspiration is low as i prepare to start working again and recoup from a camping trip. this'll be the heaviest chapter, wanting to do more fluff for this fic and go back to funny moments and silly times with frankie! thank y'all for reading and as always, hope the days are good to you ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || frankie masterlist || ko-fi

Radio check for Fish, come in Fish.

Read out loud and clear, Angel. Go ahead for Fish.

Roger that, requesting communication.

Request granted. Glad you’re back on the airwaves. Everything okay?

Affirmative.

Copy that. Standby…

Phone poised in hand, you wait for the speech bubble to pop back up, indicating his return to the conversation. But when half an hour, an hour goes by you sigh and load the inactive thing into your bag to continue your errands. After a rather frustrating visit to the phone provider you had chosen, a weak argument of ‘but it was an accident’ when told that the damage to the phone looked purposeful and just in time for the newest phone release, you had sat down at a coffee shop to grab breakfast and set up the new device. Now though, you guessed it was time to get the rest of the day’s errands done.

The paper Frankie had handed you nearly a week ago had found itself tacked to the half corkboard, half whiteboard calendar you kept in the kitchen. Your eyes sliding to it more often than you’d like to admit as you made dashes through in the morning on the way to work or cooked in the evenings.

An entire week goes by and you try to put it out of your mind. New phone heavy in your hands when you settle with it on the edge of the couch, or check it each morning before work, at the office on your lunch break. But no new messages come in, just that once funny copy that, standby. Standby…. Standby….

You had thought things were getting better, but the girls at work were being weird and conversations hushed whenever you walked into the breakroom or entered the bathroom and more than two were together. You hadn’t even bothered to bring up the fact that they ditched you at the bar the night you officially met Frankie…because it didn’t matter.

They had done it and it was over. If it had been intentional then that was on you for not seeing through their false offers of genuine camaraderie. If it had been accidental, then that was on you for not noticing how short their attention spans were. If it had been to give you a chance to go home with the not one, but two guys that approached you the second you were alone, then it was appreciated but a bit vapid of an assumption of what type of person you were.

The atmosphere at work and the novelty of being a new person to the team had quickly vanished. You were now the one whose desk was piled high with files and sticky note reminders of tasks to complete that carried over into the next day in an endless cycle. The routine of it all was so monotonous and draining.

Wake up, breakfast, commute.

Work, lunch, return emails about work that won’t be finished.

Commute, run, prep lunch, make dinner, clean.

Shower, pace the house, sleep.

It was dizzying as much as the errant thoughts of visiting one of the dance clubs downtown and tracking down the sirens call of pills or powder, anything to help you get out of your head and the endlessly swirling thoughts of doing everything wrong.

But you couldn’t, even if relapse was a part of recovery. It was not a part you wanted to end up being complicit with, one you were trying to avoid with every fiber of your being. The feeling of drowning and sinking down to the bottom of the ocean an all too real one that consumes you from the second you wake up to the second you finally pass out at the end of the day. Waterlogged clothing and the weight of water in your lungs too real.

Memories of turbulent water and debris raining down into it all around you only adding to the chaos of your mind.

You could hear the higher pitched prattle of a little girl on the next aisle over and you find yourself smiling despite the exhaustion that makes your body heavy. The basket hanging from your arm is laden with a bunch of bananas, a few other fruits, a carton of coffee creamer, and a pack of gummy sharks. Just one more thing to gather was a box of oatmeal, on the cereal aisle that you turn on.

There’s the broad back of Frankie, standing in front of one of the larger carts the store offers for shoppers. He’s quietly speaking to someone on the other side of the cart, eclipsed by the big form of him. The cart is nearly full though, you can see the colored boxes and wrappers of various foods inside as he leans over to grab a box of plain corn flakes.

You’re about to call out to him, your cheek tingling where he had pressed his plush lips to you nearly two weeks ago now. But a shrill peel of happy laughter from a child that is revealed to be in the seat of his cart.

“Daaaaddy, that’s the wrong one, silly! We need the frosted corn flakes.” Daddy. Dad. Frankie was a father. Your entire body freezes as you’re faced with the reason for his radio silence for the past several days. He had been so…charming and down to earth once the miscommunication had been cleared up but apparently he hadn’t shared with you one of the biggest parts of himself.

“No, mija, we don’t.” His shoulders are shaking with his own laughter as he places the box into the cart and goes to pull it behind him as he nears closer to you in front of the oatmeal. The little girl in his cart turns her eyes toward you, catching sight of your surprised expression.

“Dad! That girl is really pretty, her dress is so cute!”

“Who- Oh.” He’s looking up from the suddenly too bright boxes of cereal with their mascots and large block lettering. His eyes widen and he looks like he’s been caught, something you don’t have the energy to dissect at the moment. But one thing is glaringly obvious, he’s a father and family man. You went out on what was essentially a first date with a man who had a family. The realization slams into you and you’re blindly grabbing the closest box of oatmeal, throwing it into your basket before turning on your feet and fleeing to the checkout lanes.

“A-“ But before he could even get your name out you were down the aisle and turning out of sight, heart beating far too fast and anxiety thrumming. The entire process of checking out and paying for your groceries was a blur, you weren’t even sure if you thanked the cashier or bid her a good day. The slam of your car door was loud as you quickly shut it behind you. The image of him across from you in a diner, the easy conversation and goodnight kiss now tainted with the fact that he hadn’t been responsive and was a father. He could very well have a wife or girlfriend and you hadn’t even thought to ask that of him, his behavior so willing to help clear the air and ensure you had a way home.

Had you misread the vibe?

Had you just not picked up on the signals he was giving you, reading too much into the shared meal?

Had you done wrong by not asking?

The what ifs plagued you as you made your way back home, realizing that you weren’t too far from where he lived, most likely with his family. Your stomach churns and your temples throb, your lunch not settling well in the wake of your fast exit.

A migraine, you’ve worked yourself up to the point of a migraine.

The rest of your evening is spent putting the groceries away, brewing a small pot of coffee, and taking a too hot, too long shower before laying down in total darkness. You don’t flip on a switch for lights for the entire weekend as you try to keep the curtains drawn over the windows and the sounds down to a minimum as the pounding in your head persists. You don’t hear your phone go off in your purse by the front door but even if you had, you wouldn’t have known how to respond through squinting eyes.

When you manage to drag yourself out of bed on Monday, the world is still too bright and loud, but you have to get to work. Calling out would be a bad reflection and you didn’t want to disappoint the boss, someone who knew someone in your family. A favor, that you had been considered for the job in the first place, especially in a new city where you had no experience or connections. The entirety of your screen was grouped messages from your brother, from your coworkers asking after emails you hadn’t responded to. One voicemail from a mechanic to check out the weird sound your car was making when you braked, too tired to look into it yourself. And then there was the block of notifications from Fish.

Two questioning texts in the joking manner dragged on from the previous thread he had abandoned. A single one of your actual name, asking if everything was okay and if you could just message him back to let him know. A missed call and a voicemail.

‘Hey, um, so I realize how that may have looked. At the grocery store. I just…I wanted to apologize- again, for the way our interactions seem to spiral. But I swear to you, I was going to tell you. I get it if…if you don’t want to see me again or feel like you can’t trust me even if you only did for those few hours in the diner. But…I really do like you, Angel. You’re…never mind. Just…reach out if you need anything or a nudge in the right direction for businesses and shops….Bye.”

You weren’t sure what to think, emotions warring with each other inside your chest and mind. The deep velvet of his voice soothing even if you didn’t want it to be. The words never mind repeating in your head over and over again. But the one thing you were sure of was that this job was turning out not to be the one for you. The pile of files stacked on your desk was so tall you could see it across the room, the cubicle partition doing nothing to hide them from view.

The seat is barely squeaking with your weight when your boss is approaching you with a too sweet smile and a big hand on the back of your chair. His fingers brush the hair you’ve kept down today to avoid another wave of the migraine that had kept you down all weekend. The sunglasses you had worn the entire drive downtown had been only mildly helpful. Your hopeful mood for a decent day swirls from your chest and down to the bottom of your stomach, settling heavily.

“My office. End of day.”

“Yes, sir, of course.”

The day is a blur of emails, finishing up file notes that aren’t even under your name, of a salad you forgot to add dressing to, and finally you’re sitting across from the boss with your bag settled in your lap.

“It’s been brought to my attention that you’re having trouble finishing daily tasks. Most are being started either too late in the day or the day after they were due.”

“I’ve submitted everything assigned to me on time. And while I have no problem with the additional tasks, the submissions that are late tend to be the ones dropped off on my desk after I return from lunch.”

“Then perhaps you need to skip lunch in order to ensure the get completed.” He’s not even looking up from the paperwork he’s going over, the scratch of his ballpoint pen never stopping as he makes notes on it and circles large chunks of text.

“Excuse me?”

“There have been a few complaints that you aren’t doing enough to aid your superiors, they rely on new people to help pick up the slack. The files moved under your name for completion often go undone. A few complaints have been made about the language of your email signoffs as well. The phrase ‘passive-aggressive’ has been brought up.”

“So I’m getting reprimanded for work other people aren’t completing? And then scrutinized for the more than professional communications I ensure to include when emailing finished work to the people responsible for it?”

“We all work together here, there is no ‘my work, her work, his work’. We all help each other to get stuff done in a timely manner.”

“There certainly is. I have files assigned to me, Shannon has files assigned to her. Mark has filed assigned to him. Even if their files are dropped off on my desk to be done, that doesn’t negate the fact that they aren’t assigned to me.”

“Then perhaps you need to start taking work home. But at home hours are a privilege, so there will be no compensation for-“

“I quit.”

“Excuse me?” He finally looks up from the paperwork, surprise coloring his features.

“I quit, I’m not about to play office politics with you all. If someone has a problem with my work or the way I speak, then they should confront me and not run off to HR. I haven’t done anything wrong to warrant this write up.”

“I see…” His hands are clasped over that damn document, the pen neatly lined up beside it. He’s schooled his face into one of thinly veiled politeness, but you can see the disappointment in his eyes.

“Yup, thank you for the opportunity.” You go to shoulder your bag, the strap falling from your fingers as his next words. It thuds to the floor, but you don’t reach for it.

“Not much of those for…someone like you.” He’s not even looking at you, his eyes focused on the bag partially opened on the floor. On the prescription bottle peeking out from the now busted zipper.

“A simple ‘thank you for your service’ goes a long way, you know. But it’s nice to know you don’t really give a fuck what I’ve sacrificed for you all to sit here in your offices all day and make fun of me for how I dealt with the things I’ve see and experienced.”

“Most people don’t turn to hard drugs to deal with the difficulties of life.” The words sting as they cut into your chest, the judgement and disgust aching. It’s always shocking, the ways in which people react to the way your life had played out. The way you had no choice in how it played out. The drugs hadn’t been your choice nor your preferred poison. The allure of them had been born of a too strong prescription, written for you at the same time the paperwork for your retirement had been drawn up.

“And what’s so hard about your life? The fact that you’re sleeping with your secretary and you don’t want your wife to find out? Oh, the cliché of it all. You dug that hole yourself, put yourself in that situation.”

“And you put yourself in the situation of serving during a war.” But you’re even less prepared for the words as they slice into you, digging deeper than the first. You’re sure blood is visible through the silk of your office appropriate top, the blazer over your shoulders allowing for the damage to be seen across the pristine desk.

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t put this job down on your resume, you won’t be getting any kind words from me should another employer call.” The dismissal is expected, the call he’s sure to make to inform your family friend is as well. A call to you in the evening already draining what little energy you had and it hadn’t even happened yet.

“Gotcha.” Chair clattering as you stand, you don’t even return to your desk or retrieve your Tupperware from the sink in the breakroom. You feel the eyes of too curious people follow you as you cross the open space, whispers sprouting as soon as you pass. Fuck them, fuck all of them. You need a job but not bad enough to put up with whatever fresh hell was going on there.

You’re blinded by the brightness of the outside world when you push through the front door, the lady at the front desk bidding you a good day in too chipper of a mood for you current ability to handle. Your breath is punched from you as you collide with something solid. You feel hands grip your upper arms and help prevent you from careening to the ground.

“Woah, hey. Oh! You’re the woman Fish was talking about! The one from the bar.” You glimpse that tightly curled, dark hair over a handsome face as you steady yourself and step back. Brown eyes so bright in the sunlight they remind you of Frankie’s in the fluorescents of the diner and your stomach flutters.

But it’s his friend, not him. Right outside your former place of employment, the attempt at a new life that was quickly crumbling from under your feet.

“Yeah, your buddy is a real piece of work.” Tone scathing, you can’t help the way it curls your lips as it’s given breath. Ire at yourself and shame at the way you had hoped for the smallest moment that he would turn out to be something good filling your chest uncomfortably.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He’s taken aback by the bite in your tone, his easy smile turning upside down, jaw clenching tight as he watches you with narrowed eyes. Defensive, not something you were willing to deal with as you feel your fingers twitch and your stomach drop. The flare of emotion dissipating as soon as it had flared to life.

“Just…forget it. I’m sorry, I just quit my job and I’m a little…”

“Let’s grab a coffee, I’m sure we can work out something.” He’s so earnest, his dark brown eyes catching the afternoon rays of sun. Such a small, well-meaning smile making your heart soften and your quick judgement of the man back at the bar melt away.

“I don’t know you and you don’t know me, what-“

“I work for the PD and one of the guys in our friend group, he works for the military still. Does recruitment and works in the VA. I know we need-“

“I’m not interested in another tour, I’m retired. Probably wouldn’t even qualify.” You cut him off still, unable to even begin to entertain the thought of donning a uniform again. Of the slick updo you had mastered to pull all of your hair up and out of the way. Your skin prickles as the hot feeling of shrapnel embedding itself into your side blooms, all to real as you stand in the middle of the sidewalk downtown.

“No, no, god no. I wouldn’t either to be honest. But depending on your skill set I know they need mechanics and technicians. Explosives expert, right? Means you’ve got engineering skills.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Fish was very chatty after your little diner date.”

“That was three weeks ago.” Denial is on the tip of your tongue at his description, but that’s what it had been: a date. With a man who hadn’t told you of his family.

“Yeah, and he’s been a bit of a bummer since you haven’t contacted him since.”

“Look,-“

“Santiago Garcia. Pope was my callsign. Whichever you prefer.” His large hand is warm as it reaches for the one you were trying to wave him off with. Electricity sparks and you feel it travel up your arm, momentarily shocking you before you pull your hand away. A sheepish smile and mumbled apology from him at the mishap lightens the mood a little, something about how the shirt he’s wearing has been making it a common occurrence today. The need to go shopping for more dryer sheets humanizing him further.

“Look, Santiago. I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I just really want to go home and eat my weight in Chinese takeout, okay?”

“Okay, I get that. Believe me, I more than get that, but-“ He’s pulling out his wallet, a thick card is being offered to you with his name and contact information printed on it. “Just consider it, yeah? We all gotta stick together, civilians don’t understand even if they try to. We can find you work, something that’ll keep your hands busy and your mind occupied. Office work doesn’t suit you, you shouldn’t have to subject yourself to it, okay?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me, hermosa.” And with another charming smile, he’s back on his way down the street, his destination unknown to you. Sighing, you pocket the card and make your way around the building, waving at the security guard that walked up and down the block throughout the day. Your truck is dirty, washing it pushed back further and further as a storm closes in on the coast and inevitably travels inland toward you. The thought of heavy rain and whipping winds turning you off from the waste of water, suds, and an afternoon you could spend looking at things to do around the city.

When you go to turn the key, nothing happens. No clicking, no beeping of the dash lighting up, nothing.

“Fuck.”

Shrugging out of your blazer, you fix your hair up in a messy bun to get it out of your face and pop open the hood. But it’s useless, everything looks to be in working order. Leaving only the possibility of the alternator or battery having died and left you stranded. You’re sure you have a reader for the battery…at home in the garage. The card shoved in your back pocket burns into your skin, prompting you to pull it away and dial the numbers printed in a nice font.

Two rings and it picks up.

“Santigo, it’s Angel.” He doesn’t ask what’s wrong or if you’re okay. Only your location.

“I’m just down the street, turning back around now. The parking lot just behind the building?”

“Yes, I- thank you, Santiago.”

“No problem at all, hermosa.”

“You said you need engineers? Where exactly?” He’s looked over the mechanics of the vehicle just as you did, diagnosing the problem exactly the same. Something unable to be fixed at the moment. He glances up at you under his long lashes as he types out something on his phone, an instant response buzzing.

“Someone should be here in a few, my friends are just down a few blocks. One of them owns a gym and we hit up the dive bar across from it every Monday.”

Nodding, you try to recall the buildings he’s talking about. But you haven’t explored as much as you’ve wanted too. Throwing yourself into work and trying to play catch up on building secondary savings. The help to purchase a home welcome, but the house needed work that was only discounted, not covered.

“There’s a flight school not too far outside the city, where recruits are sent. They need some help that isn’t gonna up and leave them, assignments are up and they need someone reliable.”

“I don’t know how to fly.” Fleeting hope deflates and you really wish your emotions weren’t so easily pulled from you. The weekend you spent hiding away proved to have been more draining than you anticipated. But he soothes the furrow of your brow with two fingers and a hint of his teeth as he smiles at you, so close you can feel the heat of chest.

“They’ve got a few solid instructors. Fish has been pulling doubles doing the repairs and the lessons. They need a mechanic and an engineer, something tells me you’d be the perfect fit.”

You can only see the genuine way in which he’s willing to help reflected back at you, his eyes open and his smile charming. A smile is spreading across your own lips falters as the sound of a vehicle turning into the lot catches your attention. There are two figures visible through the windshield. A blonde man is backing into the spot your truck faces, concentration steeling his features. And from underneath the bill of a worn hat and through a pair of dark aviators, Frankie Morales is staring at you.

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @76bookworm76 @christinamadsen

@readingiskeepingmegoing @brittmb115 @darkheartgatita

@sawymredfox @burntheedges @hiddenbabynyc

@southernbe @inept-the-magnificent @littlemisspascal

@jessthebaker @janaispunk

#dev writes #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #callsign nicknames #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales fic #frankie morales series #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia #frankie friday

73 notes · View notes

violet-1atte · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober Day Four: Monsterfucking - Chan/Felix

Tags: Demon!Chan, summoning, demon summoning, abnormal genitalia, no lube, mild pain kink, dom/sub undertones, bottom!Felix, top!Chan, dom!Chan, mild fear play

I forgot to post this lmao

AO3 Link

This was a bad idea. Felix knew that very well. He wasn’t the brightest but he had a pretty good head on his shoulders. He was smart and he did well enough in school. He just wasn’t always the best at thinking logically, which he was told often. In this situation, he knew that logically, he probably shouldn’t be doing this. He just went against his better thinking.

Felix set the summoning book he had bought from some shady guy on the internet on his bed, open to the page he wanted. The book listed countless summoning spells and for all kinds of different entities, but Felix had one in particular in mind. An incubus. To put it lightly, Felix was desperate. He lived in a small, rural area and went to a small university and the prospects there were little to none. No one knew how to fuck him the way he wanted to be fucked and he was so sexually frustrated he could cry. His friend Jisung had offered a helping hand, as bros of course, but Jisung was far more submissive than Felix was and the exact opposite of what he needed. Of course, Jisung probably didn’t mean for him to take it literally when he said that at this point he should summon an incubus to come help him, but Felix took it that way.

He honestly didn’t fully believe it would work. If it didn’t work then no one had to know he had such a deep lapse in judgment and he could move on with his life, forever sexually frustrated. If it did work, he could possibly end up with the best fuck of his life and never be the same again. He could also end up accidentally selling his soul to the devil, but that was something for his future soul to worry about. And because of the parts of him that did not believe in this whole thing in the first place, he wasn’t all that worried. He really should have been more worried.

He took a deep breath, double checking that everything in his summoning circle was set up correctly. His heart was racing and his palms were sweating and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, but he wasn’t backing out. He was going to do this.

Once he had everything set up, he picked up the book and began to read. The words sounded like gibberish and his voice wobbled as he spoke, sounding all too loud in the quiet room. His hands shook a little as his words echoed back to him, bouncing off the walls. The flames on the candles he had lit flickered and yet there was no wind. The closer he got to being done with the incantation, the more his heart raced and his stomach swooped with nervousness. He could feel something, something strong, like something was waiting for him behind an invisible wall that he was about to break.

As soon as he reached the end of the spell there was…nothing. His room was just as quiet as it had been before he started speaking. The candles had stopped flickering, leaving Felix to wonder if it was just his imagination.

He sighed and closed the book. “Bummer,” he muttered to himself. He knelt down to begin putting out the candles so that he could put everything away, but out of nowhere, a breeze swirled around him and blew all the candles out. He didn’t even have his window opened.

He shivered and swallowed thickly, slowly moving to stand up. Goosebumps rose all over his arms and he held his breath, waiting. Then, the floor began to shake. “Shit–” he gasped, reaching out for something to grab as he stumbled backwards. His light began to flicker and the air in the room started to heat up. He began to sweat and he couldn’t tell if it was from the fear or from the heat in the room. A disembodied laugh followed the heat and Felix’s breathing picked up. He shouldn’t have done this. He should have known it would be a bad idea, it would be dangerous. He hoped his mom and Jisung knew he loved them.

The laugh grew louder and Felix started backing up, preparing to run. Before he could move another muscle though, something invisible held him back and flames erupted from the middle of the circle he’d created. Tears sprung to his eyes as the flames grew higher, heating his skin. He was going to die.

He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, willing himself to be strong. If he didn’t think, it would all be over soon. The earth would be rid of his stupidity and he would hopefully make it to the afterlife. But then the scalding heat of the fire was gone, and the room was cool again.

But there was another presence.

Felix felt a warm hand on his cheek and what felt like claws scraping along his skin. His heart thundered loudly against his chest.

“Why do you look so scared, pretty? You did call for me, didn’t you?”

Felix exhaled shakily and slowly opened his eyes. As soon as he did, he let out a gasp. The creature was mere inches away from his face and he was all parts beautiful and terrifying. His eyes were an inky black and they bored into his soul, swallowing him up. Black curly hair fell across his forehead and two blood-red horns jutted out from the top of his head, bending and curling at the ends. They were long and sharp and could probably kill a man in an instant. Kill him.

Now that his eyes were open he could tell that what had felt like claws on his skin were claws. The skin on his hand went from a caramel tan to the same deep red that his horns were on his fingers which extended into sharp claws, like a lion’s. The creature was smiling at him too, and he had two sharp fangs that looked like they could tear into flesh like it was nothing. The mere sight sent chills of fear down Felix’s spine.

“I…uhm,” Felix attempted, gulping. “W-what–who are you?” His voice sounded oddly airy and high for how deep it normally was.

“You really summoned me without knowing that?” the creature asked, raising a condescending eyebrow at Felix. Felix’s hands clenched at his sides. “Well…I think it’s pretty obvious what I am. I’m a demon, if you haven’t guessed already,” he said, stroking Felix’s cheek with his clawed fingers. His stomach flipped, and it wasn’t from fear. “And I’ve been called many names over the centuries. But you can call me Chan.” His smile widened and Felix’s eyes were drawn to the dimples that formed on his cheeks, contrasting the rest of his terrifying appearance.

“Chan,” Felix repeated with a meek nod. “I–so–” Felix wondered if the creature–demon–knew why he had called him in the first place. Because despite the fear rattling his bones and the anxiety twisting his stomach into knots, Felix was still oddly drawn to him. He had gorgeous tan skin and a body that looked like it had been sculpted by the ancient Greeks and oh–Felix just realized he was entirely naked. “Do you–do you know why I–why I asked you here?”

Chan hummed, pulling back a bit as he thought. “No. Only you can know your intentions. So why do you want me here?” he asked, leaning in again. “Do you need revenge on someone? Protection? Was this just curiosity, maybe? Or foolishness.” He laughed and it twisted Felix’s insides deliciously. Oh he was so stupid. This was insane. He was insane.

“None of those things, actually,” he said. His voice still quivered but he felt a little more confident. “I–I was attempting to summon an–an incubus,” he said.

The demon’s eyebrows raised and his lips curved upwards into a smirk. “Oh…So that’s why.” He laughed again and shook his head. “Humans these days…so desperate we don’t even have to do any of the tempting.”

Felix bit back an embarrassing whimper at that and his cheeks heated up. A demon–a fucking demon–was calling him desperate. If a creature of sin was telling him he was desperate then it must be true. And Felix would be lying if he said that didn’t make hot waves of arousal pool in his belly.

He didn’t say anything as he watched Chan’s eyes roam over him, igniting his skin in flames hotter than the ones that had brought Chan there in the first place. “I was desperate,” he admitted, wetting his lips. “I couldn’t–I couldn’t find anyone who was good enough. I w-wasn’t satisfied,” he continued. “They were all too soft. Too gentle.”

“Hm,” Chan hummed. The hand that was on Felix’s cheek slid down to cup the side of his neck. Felix’s pulse raced against his fingers. “And that made you desperate enough to summon a demon?”

Felix swallowed and nodded quickly. Fuck it really did sound pathetic when it was said out loud.

Chan looked over again, his black eyes scanning over his figure. He looked up again to meet Felix’s eyes. “Are you scared? You were shaking when I arrived.”

He licked his lips. “Terrified,” he whispered.

The grin the demon offered in response sent blood rushing to Felix’s cock and his legs shook. “Good,” he said lowly. “I wouldn’t be doing my job right if you weren’t scared.” He caressed Felix’s pulse point with his thumb.

“And will you–” Felix took a deep breath to steady his voice. “Will you do what–what I summoned you for?”

“Well I’m not an incubus,” Chan said, pursing his lips afterwards. Felix’s heart sank and then he felt the genuine feelings of fear returning because if he wasn’t here for that then– “But I’m never against indulging. Especially with a human as pretty as you…”

Felix’s eyes widened. Chan smiled and put his other hand on Felix’s waist, digging his claws into his skin through his shirt. “You really should be one of the angels with how divine you look. Definitely not with a demon.”

“Well looks can be deceiving,” Felix said with a sweet smile. “I might look pretty and innocent, but I really just want to get fucked.” And somehow the fact that this demon looked like he could tear him to pieces and take his soul only made the desire burn hotter. “Please. I called you here. I want it.”

Chan’s eyes shifted in color slightly, a bit of a red glow burning underneath the black. It made Felix’s nerve endings tingle. “Are you sure you can handle that, pretty thing?” he asked.

Felix bit his bottom lip and smiled. “Absolutely,” he said, even though his stomach swooped like it did when he was on a fair ride. He had gotten this far, he might as well continue.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” He grinned, and before Felix could even muster a response, he was gripping his long hair and tilting his head back. Felix’s scalp stung and tears sprung to his eyes almost immediately but shit it felt good. He hadn’t even had time to process that sensation before the demon’s mouth was on his, immediately kissing him passionate and messy. Felix moaned and his lips parted, allowing Chan full access to his mouth. His tongue ran along his lips and dipped into his mouth, connecting with Felix’s tongue. His fangs scraped his bottom lip and it stung and he was pretty sure there would be blood, but that only added to the intensity of the kiss. He ravaged Felix’s mouth like no one had before, pulling low, needy moans out of him. The sounds of their lips sliding together filled the room and Felix’s own moans bounced around the walls, only muffled by the demon’s hot lips on his.

Eventually Chan did pull away and Felix gasped for air, his chest rising and falling. He wondered briefly if demons needed to breathe, but he didn’t have much time to ponder because suddenly Chan picked him up, the muscles in his arms bulging–and then he tossed him onto the bed. A gasp was punched out of Felix that turned into a moan and his cock twitched at the display of strength. If there were two things he loved they were muscles and manhandling.

The demon crawled over him on the bed, completely caging him in. He knew that he was completely at his mercy. And to anyone else, the sight of the ink-eyed, horned creature looming above them would be terrifying, but to Felix it was erotic. This creature was terrifying and he loved it.

“Humans are so fragile,” Chan said with a slight pout. “I’ll make sure not to totally break you though.” He gave Felix a cocky smirk and he wanted to cry. He wanted to beg yes, please, please break me, break me so that I can’t ever think of anything else, ruin me, but he held his tongue.

“Let’s get these off you. I want to see what you’re hiding under these silly garments.”

The demon didn’t even bother trying to pull Felix’s shirt over his head. He simply hooked his claws around the collar and tore it right off in one swift motion. Felix’s hips jerked and he outright moaned. “Fuck–I’ve always wanted someone to just tear my clothes off me,” he whimpered.

“It’s so sad that everyone else was too weak,” Chan responded. He settled for just tugging Felix’s sweatpants off, and he tossed them aside along with the remains of Felix’s shirt. Felix hadn’t been wearing any underwear, so once the pants were gone, he was completely naked. Chan licked his lips as he looked over Felix’s body and he put his hands on his chest. “Mm so pretty. Truly abnormally pretty for a human…you really could be an angel. I’m glad you’re not though.” he scraped his claws down Felix’s torso, over his nipples and down the ridges of his abdomen. “If you were an angel I couldn’t be doing this right now.”

“I’m glad I’m not then,” Felix said. “Now please fuck me, fuck me so hard it hurts.”

Chan grinned and his dimples did nothing to take away from how hungry and downright sinister his grin was. “Oh I intend to. But one thing first. Call me Master.”

Felix gulped and wet his lips. “Okay. Master.”

He chuckled softly and squeezed his side, his claws digging into his side. “Perfect.” He then moved between Felix’s knees and nudged them apart then brought two fingers to his lips. “Open.”

Felix opened his mouth dutifully and the demon slipped his two fingers inside. Felix let out a muffled moan as Chan pressed down on his tongue and slid his fingers back. He gagged when his claws touched the back of his tongue the sensation only served to make the sparks of arousal in his stomach turn into burning flames.

“Good boy,” Chan hummed, removing his fingers, a trail of spit connecting his fingertips. Felix stared ahead dazedly, his head already feeling fuzzy from the cocktail of emotions he’d felt in the last ten minutes and the feeling of his steadily hardening dick.

Chan grinned, fangs poking out over his plump bottom lip, and he slipped his fingers between Felix’s asscheeks. Felix shuddered as the tips of his fingers circled his hole and for a moment anxiety twisted in his gut because oh fuck the claws. The demon seemed to notice the change and he merely smiled, black and red eyes flickering. “Don’t worry, pretty human, it won’t hurt,” he promised. Felix watched as the claws on the demon’s fingers disappeared, retracting back as if he were a cat. It made a wave of relief wash over him and he spread his thighs.

“Please. Please open me up, master,” Felix whimpered, the pitch of his normally deep voice raising a few octaves.

“Impatient,” Chan hummed. He circled his hole for a second before pushing the first spit-slicked finger past his rim. Felix arched his back and let out a moan. Chan’s hands were hot, and with just one finger he felt like a volcano was erupting inside of him. Heat traveled up his stomach, through his chest, up his throat, and it burned deliciously.

“Ah ah–more,” Felix gasped, rolling his hips to pull Chan’s finger deeper. Despite the fact that he had only used spit for lube there was hardly any burn at all. Must be some sort of demon magic.

Chan leaned down and scraped his fangs across Felix’s thigh as he inserted a second finger and began to scissor the tight ring of muscle. Felix shuddered at the feeling, the feeling of the possible threat–the demon, so much stronger than him, sharp teeth tickling his soft, sensitive skin. He felt lightheaded from it all.

A litany of moans filled the air as Chan scissored his fingers in and out of him and when he pressed them against his prostate, he cried out. The heat of his skin made the touch so much more intense and he wanted more, more. “M-master, master, please,” Felix begged.

“Such a pathetic little thing, aren’t you?” Chan asked with a condescending coo. Felix licked his lips and looked up at the demon through hazy eyes.

“Ye-yes,” he hiccupped. “‘M just desperate. Desperate to get fucked, master, please.”

Sinful was definitely the correct way to describe this scene. Felix’s freckled skin was flushed all over and his cock was hard and leaking against his stomach. And he was begging a demon to fuck him and fill him up.

“Fuck, I want to break you,” the demon groaned. He leaned between Felix’s spread thighs and opened his mouth and for a second Felix thought he was going to take his cock in his mouth, but instead he stuck his tongue out and let a drop of saliva fall down his crack. Felix moaned low in his throat at that and clutched the sheets.

“Sh-shit,” he swore, hole clenching around Chan’s fingers.

Chan smirked as he removed his fingers, only to use them to collect the saliva and push them back in with a third added to the mix. He began to fuck them in and out of him, rubbing against his prostate in a way that had him arching off the bed and moaning obscenely. It was probably loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Fuck.

The demon’s tongue and teeth mapped out his body as he fingered him. Bite marks and dark purple bruises littered his skin like a painting. Some of them hurt, some stung, but it was so good. With every new bite Felix’s reddened cock twitched against his stomach. Chan was merciless with his touches. The sensations overwhelmed Felix’s senses, making his head spin and his limbs tingle. But he needed more. ‘S enough, can take it now, I can,” he whimpered as Chan pressed a fourth finger into his twitching hole.

“Well I am quite eager to fuck you, angel,” Chan said with a smirk. Felix laughed dazedly at the irony of the nickname. There was nothing angelic about any of this, like the demon had already said earlier.

Chan removed his fingers, leaving Felix’s hole gaping and clenching around nothing. He brought his hand to his own cock and the movement drew Felix’s eyes to it. And then he gasped.

“Oh–fuck,” he muttered. He didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed before. Not only was his cock huge, it was covered in rows of rough ridges and bumps, unlike any cock Felix had ever seen. Then again, Chan wasn’t just some man. He was a demon. A monster. Fuck. “That’s–”

“Oh?” Chan asked, tilting his head teasingly. “Does it scare you, pretty?” He gave his cock a few slow tugs and Felix gulped, shaking his head.

“N-no, master,” he breathed. If anything, it made him even more eager. Shit, those bumps would drag along his walls and rub against his prostate and it would feel so good. So good.

“Good,” the demon hummed. He jerked his cock a few more times before releasing it and suddenly he grabbed Felix by the hips and flipped him over in one motion. Felix let out a gasp followed by a whimper, unbelievably turned on by the simple action.

“Nghh–master.”

“Shush, pretty. Or I won’t fuck you at all,” Chan growled. He gripped Felix’s hips and pulled him back so that he was on his knees with his chest pressed to the mattress. His claws were back and they dug into the sensitive skin of his hips.

Felix swallowed thickly and a groan rumbled in his chest when he felt the tip of Chan’s dick press against his hole. He nearly opened his mouth to ask for more but then Chan was pushing inside him. His mouth fell open and a loud moan was punched out of him as Chan pushed himself all the way in. The ridges of his thick cock caught on his rim and pushed against his walls but it didn't hurt, it felt good.

"F-fuck, master, please move," he gasped pathetically.

Chan's grip on his hips tightened and he began moving, giving Felix no time to adjust. He fucked him animalistically, his hips smacking against Felix's ass so hard he knew it would bruise in the morning. The bumps on his cock brushed against his prostate with every thrust and Felix's eyes rolled back. Heat furled in his stomach and he could already feel himself getting close pathetically fast.

"Hnn–ah, aahhh–f-fuck m-master, m-more, hard–nghhh–harder!" he whined, arching his back more for the demon to fuck him deeper. It felt like he could feel him in his guts.

Chan picked up his thrusts, ramming into him so hard it punched the air out of him. "That good enough for ya, huh?" He gritted, digging his claws harder into Felix's hips. He didn't even sound breathless.

"Yes, yes! Aahh," Felix moaned. Drool ran down his chin as he lost all care for how he acted, so close already.

Chan continued fucking him just like that, pushing into him deep and hard, filling him up and stretching his walls better than anyone ever had before. His cock ached as it bounced against his stomach with each thrust, precum dripping down it. Each thrust had him twitching. It was too much, but exactly what he had been needing.

"I'm almost–I'm gonna–" Felix sputtered after a few minutes, barely able to form coherent sentences. Chan pounded into him at an unnatural pace, one that left him reeling. He could never be fucked by someone else again.

"Come for me then, pretty. Make a sinful little mess of yourself," Chan groaned.

And just like that, Feliz was coming with a long drawn out moan, covering his stomach in cum. Chan continued fucking him through his orgasm, the drag of his cock making Felix tingle with overstimulation. He let him continue though, and after another moment he was filling him up with his cum, letting out a low growl as he did.

Felix barely registered anything after that. One moment he was awake, being filled to the brim, the next he was out. And when he woke again, the demon was gone. The only evidence being the countless bite marks, hickeys, and scratches on his skin.

It almost seemed like a dream. And Felix wondered if that would be the end of everything. But as he was moving around and getting ready for the day, a brush of an invisible hand on his shoulder and a familiar disembodied chuckle told him that wouldn't be the last he'd see of the demon.

158 notes · View notes

velvetjune · 2 months ago

Text

Alan Wake 2 Lake House DLC spoilers/review (also spoilers for Control):

Had a lot of fun with this DLC! It’s short (unfortunately expected this), but sweet, although I wish I didn’t watch the trailer for it. It would’ve been amazing experiencing this with no knowledge. As a massive Control fan, I was practically thriving off of all the reading and FBC style. I have some sympathy for fans of Alan Wake who might hate Control, but these games are far more than a crossover by now and moving forward. I can see how this wouldn’t work for people who dislike that.

Personally, Remedy has done well at connecting their stories without it clashing! The AWE dlc for Control was a mixed bag for me, mostly because the story wasn’t really there and the darkness mechanics were bland. This could be because I’m very biased towards Control, but this was a great example of how to merge the settings and traits of both games in an interesting way.

The marital and mad scientist drama was terrible in the best way. I was dying every time one of the Marmonts was “hmmm Wake says we’re going to die horrifically and become monsters, but im personally better than that.”

DR DARLING… <3 He should’ve had more appearances </3

After all the deserved hate directed at AI and producing content rather than art, it was heartwarming to see promotion for Poe. I don’t know the details, but she’s barely been able to release music over the last 20 years (some songs here and there), so having an entire area dedicated to her with links to a (fingers crossed) site about an upcoming Poe project was lovely. Lots of love put towards artists in this.

Ed being there was and thinking he was in an immersive experience was incredibly funny. I’d have to look it up, but was the manuscript page in his room detailing when he was taken HERE and not him dying to taken? Was this DLC happening during the start of aw2 or right before?

I’m in love with Kiran Estevez. She can be judgmental and tries to maintain a level of calm over the situation, but her disgust, fear, humor all shine through in funny ways. Hope that she, along with at least Saga, get to be in Control 2.

Only found this out after checking Reddit (which imo is too harsh over both Night Springs and this DLC), but apparently the Dylan part is skippable. It was SUCH a highlight of this DLC. The shifting environments, the Not-Oldest House, Dylan in the “panopticon” post-Control, etc. was surreal and captivating. Usually with set ups teasers, I don’t particularly care (e.g. the AWE dlc ending was alright!), but man. The way to get it was perfectly strange. Poor Dylan. Just like Control’s “hidden” ending cutscene, this really seems to put Control 2 in the wider NYC.

Having a “person who’s only seen Boss Baby” moment: thought of tma (the podcast) with the tapes, archives, panopticon, all the weird shit. It didn’t influence this game, but I was getting flashbacks to when I listened to it (stopped caring for it, but the first few seasons were fun in a creepypasta way)

I liked the calendar puzzles. I’m not a huge fan of puzzles in games, but these were easy enough to follow without dragging on. however I did spend five minutes confused just because I got Friday and Saturday mixed up :(

The boss fight was easy in story mode lol

Diana brutally killing the taken Jules was one of the only “gross” moments of Remedy’s games and it was great! It’s not much gore, but I’ll take it.

I accidentally pressed the option to instantly destroy (?) the painting :( So im so sorry to Rudolph and I’ll be replaying this dlc soon to see what the other option is.

For my problems, I was sad that the paint monsters were mainly annoying to run from (also they’re cute). I don’t know if it was an issue on my end or a bug, but even once I went to story mode, I still wasn’t finding healing objects until the last fight. The reason I switched to story was only because my low-ish health kept instant killing me by the Painted 😭 Maybe it’s because I haven’t replayed Alan Wake in a while, but this DLC was wildly difficult. If Remedy didn’t add a whole list of assists, I’d be more frustrated, but thankfully it’s there. The map also would keep question marks and loot up even when I interacted.

I prefer the Night Springs DLC, but this was a great look into Estevez, Control, and what art is. Now, Alan Wake 2 is officially done!

#lake house dlc #alan wake 2 spoilers #lake house dlc spoilers #my post #this is technically a review but I just wanted to talk about this dlc lol #fun dlc :)

26 notes · View notes

azullumi · 2 years ago

Note

hi, one of my favorite posts of yours is the love language post with ayato, thoma, and tighnari! i was wondering if you would be able to write something like it with xiao, kazuha, and cyno? thank you for all your work

summary — there are many ways to say “i love you” and he has his own ways of saying it.

characters — xiao, kazuha, cyno (w/gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, different love languages; headcanons

word count — 1171

a/n — i'm glad to know that you liked that one! i honestly forgot how i wrote that so the approach for this part can be quite different from the first one, it feels like i could have done better though but anyways here is what you requested, i hope it's to your liking ^^

“Do you mind if I hold your hand?” — Xiao

There is just something in the way you feel against Xiao’s skin that has him longing and wanting for more. Not far from his thoughts, near his emotions, close to his throbbing heart, the desire lingers at the tips of his fingers, the corners of his mind, and the edges of his imperfections, he always hopes to feel you. Perhaps it was the fact that he feels at ease, relaxed and relieved from troubling thoughts, whenever there is contact between you two.

At first, when he was still new and unfamiliar to the ways of affection, there is always the want touch you, however, he is way too afraid to ask you at the same time nor he has an easy time being honest so he settles with just the small and fleeting physical contact he makes with you—the accidental brushing of one another’s knuckles and anything.

However, as time passes by and as he grew more and more comfortable, the fear, anxiety, and nervousness— he often feels when he wants to do something but doesn’t know if you also feel the same— has dissipated and he always seeks and chase after for the comfort of your touch whenever possible. Although he finds it himself often asking for permission every time he wishes to hold your hand, hug you, or just anything. Perhaps it was just an act of courtesy or a way for him to know if you’re comfortable with it, either ways you appreciate the thought even though he doesn’t have to do that.

His touch first settles with the linking of one’s pinky to another before crawling and intertwining each finger, filling in the gaps in between like small puzzle pieces meant to fit for each other. He loves holding your hand out of everything because no matter how small the gesture is, it speaks volume of his affection and he feels connected with you. He just feels so close to you and that your hand squeezing his serves as a gentle reminder that you’re by his side.

Rough and calloused hand, experienced in the ways of battle and war, against yours and your hands just know to hold on to his so tenderly and gently while simultaneously setting him free from what binds him.

“You are not a piece of work, you were never troublesome, my dear.” — Kaedehara Kazuha

Kazuha is known to have a good way with his words, he just knows how to use his gentle and soothing voice accompanied with his reassuring words in comforting you and he does surely know how to make you feel loved and appreciated with just it.

Compliments slip past his lips so smoothly, showering and overwhelming you with affection and care, as if he was only simply asking how your day was. He does admit, seeing you so flustered and shy, not knowing what to respond, whenever he praises you makes his heart do stunts because of how lovely you look with your face warm and your ears red—you don’t know it affects him as much as it affects you too. He laughs and apologizes, telling you that he can’t promise you that he will not do it again especially when you look so adorable every time— and there, he did it again.

He always asks you about your plans for the day and he also never forgets to ask about how it went when the sun has already gone down. He listens actively to each word that you say and remembers the things that you have said a long time ago, often bringing it up in some of your conversations or casually mentioning something that you like.

Words of encouragement and motivation are given whenever he notices how you feel dejected about something. He doesn’t dwell on the type of positivity that is simply toxic and so, he is careful with what he says, making sure that he shows support and that you feel validated. Feeling like giving up? It’s alright, sometimes it’s just necessary and you don’t have to be harsh to yourself just to attain what you want. Remember that he is always there for you no matter what happens.

He recognizes your efforts and acknowledges them, telling you how proud he is of you and how he appreciates everything that you have done for yourself, for him, for the both of you. He makes sure that your hard work doesn’t go unnoticed and values it because he doesn’t want you to feel insignificant nor worthless when your existence is an amazing creation itself, weaved and carefully sculpted by life and blessing the ground that you walk on.

“It doesn’t matter, I will do it for you.” — Cyno

You serve as the drive and motivation of what Cyno does. He abides by the belief that actions can speak louder than words and he goes through lengths just to show you— it is also his way of proving that he will do anything if it’s for you, from small acts to big ones.

He wants to lighten your load so he helps you whenever and would even go out of his way just to do so. He even takes on the tasks you don’t want to put up with and when you see a chore that has been put aside by you already done and finished, just expect that it’s him who did that. Well, he wishes to show you that he is someone that you can rely on and so he will always be there whenever you need assistance, whenever you need someone to lean on, whenever you just need someone to be there. This is also just perhaps his means of saying that he loves you and though how overwhelming his actions are sometimes, it’s just his manner of showing affection.

In addition to everything that he does, he also and always follows through everything he says that he is going to do—he isn’t a man of broken promises and lies after all and he doesn’t want to make you feel disappointed over something that he said and he couldn’t keep.

Maybe it’s the fact that he gets to show you that he is always present and there for you or maybe it’s just how he wants seeing you happy whether it’s for the things that he does for you or anything that tugs the corner of your lips into a smile that he adores— in many ways that you show your emotions where only a few are told by your lips, he yearns to see each and every smile of yours, the ones that appear at the lit of your tone, the ones that stains your face unknowingly, and his most loved one, the smile that graces your expression when you see him.

He eases the burden of your responsibility even if it means carrying more with him and he reassures you that it’s fine and it doesn’t matter because if it’s for you, he will do anything.

— navigation | masterlist

650 notes · View notes

phoenixcatch7 · 4 months ago

Text

Unrelated to the last post but MAN I wish I could make a list of characters view the canon fics that do it so well across fandoms but I really don't want to risk opening them up to deletion. It's only recently that these sorts of stories have been allowed to stay up, as only a few years ago they were considered 'too close to canon' and could - would - get forcibly taken down from just about every site.

I've lost too many amazing cvtc fics to staff deciding they were bending the rules too much to just post a list of links but... I wish they were more popular because there's some absolute gems.

Here, I'll talk about a few things they did:

Killed the protagonist and everyone had to rewatch his memories to bring him back. This was very controversial in universe and it made it work so well.

The protagonist was oblivious to the reading, not part of it. This meant everyone could theorise and debate between themselves and actually REALLY solved the pacing and dramatisation issues common to these fics.

The protagonist actually replaced a villain in canon; the reading was done pre canon and the villain believed he had gone insane was the one acting like that. It was mortifying but seeing his body make friends and get a happy ending when he believed he was beyond hope and vicious about it was heart wrenching.

The young protagonist accidentally wished to be understood and a villain took advantage of it. It switched between the reading and reactions and the protag desperately trying to defeat the villain and make plans to run away to prevent his revealed secret getting him killed by the government.

The very large cast was split into groups, but could contact each other via texting. This enabled each group to have wildly varying reactions and theories without having to constantly argue and fight. It made it more fast paced, and added tension as the villains plotted unsupervised.

A very small cast were on a road trip and found the protags audio diaries of his adventures in the glove compartment. This was a Percy Jackson one, and it built off the books' first person format brilliantly.

The protags purposely wrote down their adventures in books and sold them on the market to fix their reputation and earn some money doing so. It involved people frantically trying to verify the books and evolved into a pr nightmare.

The orphan protag somehow time travelled back to when his family was in hiding with his books. His parents and uncles read the books and got to know their currently infant kid in the process. (This was a Harry Potter one, and both the series and author got permanently banned from ffn years ago and it had gotten all the way to deathly hallows 😭. It had been in progress for over a decade and was immaculately written, I miss it so much. Author if you're out there ily.)

Midway through canon a group of the protags friends combined all of their memories in a crystal ball and shipped it to a conference where just about every important figure was in attendance. They did not tell each other of the memories they included. They did not tell the exiled protag what they'd done. Many unexpected revelations and betrayals happened during the viewing. It also made it so the only scenes that appeared were ones where other people were there, which was so creative and well done.

The protag was a powerful psychic brought in for questioning and made it everyone else's problem. It was hilarious.

For a video game canon a handful of trusted allies (and villains before they went insane) were secretly delivered the games by THE TIME TRAVELLING GHOST OF THE PROTAGONIST IN DISGUISE and played them. The main focus was the main villain finding out a) how to even play video games (there was an ongoing joke about ridiculous video game logic) and b) the reasons he went insane, in excruciating detail, c) his victim's perspective including his own history that future him died not knowing about. One of his friends got a spinoff video game about how all his other friends died tragically. Many people saw their own traumatic deaths on screen with about twenty pixels.

A group of next gen kids accidentally fell into their parent's memories (of a war they'd been lied to about).

The protag was the 'child' of an omnipotent being who got sick of them being a self fulfilling prophecy (which ended horribly in canon) and locked them all in a fourth dimensional cave. In the same fic, the protag was using illusions to maintain the appearance of on-screen canon while fleshing out canon scenes and implications. Really well written and the character relationships were 👌.

The characters parents got the books, and had to reverse engineer the events that led up to canon and also which character was whose unborn kid.

A villain made a wish to publicly expose the main group's 'lies', accidentally exposed them as telling the truth and themselves as the corrupt liars. Whoops!

Traumatised side character time travelled back to pre canon from an apocalypse (that wasn't in canon), demanding the canon be viewed to understand and prevent the events that led to the apocalypse.

Characters broke after the events of canon publish their stories as fantasy books to the unknowing civilian public. The fantasy people accidentally get hold of it and everything goes to pot. I swear this is a totally different fandom to the other one.

Dead villain ghost secretly witnesses a viewing, time travels back to adopt the protagonist and change history to his image.

Crossover where one character was revealed to be a character from the other fandom in hiding with a fake identity.

Protag lost his memories and everyone uses a magical device/ritual to restore it, becoming witnesses themselves in the process.

Characters were forced to watch amvs of each other and had to try and extrapolate the order of events and the symbolism of the song. No one walked away with the full picture, but they got the main problems sorted.

Someone made an uncannily accurate play and the characters had to track the creator down to sue them (and figure out how they'd done it) without revealing that the portrayal was accurate.

A travelling seer took severe umbrage to the body stealing protag and exposed him with receipts. He spent basically the entire fic curled in a ball of mortification.

The protag on trial for many crimes got the magic viewing device used on him in front of everyone in the courtroom.

One fic was pretty normal but every time someone on screen got hurt or sick, so did their 'irl' counterpart. It sped up the fic a lot as no one wanted to linger on the worst bits. Also the author used canon implications, that the protag was oblivious to, to low key scare everyone who noticed them.

Crossover where the adults of one fandom fought over adoption rights of the other fandom's teen protag.

The author only used cherry picked moments of canon to massively streamline the fic, which worked! All the high moments you want a fic to cover - epic fights, dramatic reveals, important conversations, silly moments, developing relationships. And absolutely NOTHING else, there was very little context. Made for some excellent moments of people frantically trying to explain themselves lol.

Character stared too long into the void, broke the fourth wall to watch their own media. They spent most of the fic about to cry.

Protags patron deities hosted a viewing to try and get him a gf/bf from their other avatars. He wasn't looking for romance but did eventually end up in a poly relationship.

Prophet reluctantly revealed his own version of events with the help of his sentient house. This was about a movie so it was pretty fitting thematically lmao.

There is so much potential!! There's so many ways to do it, branch out, give these sorts of fics a try! Don't get stuck in the rut of the same methods as everyone else, even in this genre there's all sorts you can do with it! Use some of these examples if you want! Get creative and don't forget you're writing a story!!

Of course, if you recognise or are reminded of these please don't link or name them*, but you're more than welcome to guess which fandom each belongs to XD!

*Except that Harry Potter one, please I need closure, it's been a decade-